Bagsy rarely felt safe. She was terrified of many things; the shadows under her bed, the hooting of owls at night, or even the scent of smoke. She jumped when her sister spoke suddenly from behind her, dropped plates with a clatter when the old wooden steps creaked, and cried out at the moving shapes of swaying trees she mistook for figures. But one thing, above all else, scared Bagsy even more.

She was near positive she was a squib.

The summer sunshine flooded the Beetlehorn family's gargantuan open-plan ground floor, where Bagsy was sitting. Himble and Florentchia Beetlehorn, her parents, were wealthy and had remodelled an old, rickety house in the middle of Aesher Common into a garish modern style, expanding it into a bloated cube. Aesher Common was a vast woodland, and One Aesher Common had the luxury of a mammoth grass lawn and the finest protective charms to keep the creatures of Aesher Common out. The building had become what Bagsy considered an ugly form of minimalism, so empty of personal touch or signs of life it felt like a wax model. It did have some rustic features, like an old wooden staircase, but they were so out of place they felt as if they'd been glued onto the property to add 'character'.

The youngest Beetlehorn, Bagsy, was regarding the living room around her and twiddling her thumbs nervously as she sat; she was waiting for her acceptance letter from Hogwarts. She was a short girl with brown hair in a bob that was so tangled her elder sister, Rebontil 'Bontie' Beetlehorn, often referred to it as a bird's nest. As for Bagsy's face, Bontie said it was reminiscent of a squirrel – especially the chubby cheeks. Bontie was lucky. She'd been born tall and slender, with wavy but neat hair and gorgeous green eyes. When Bagsy retorted that she looked like a stretched-out slug it felt hollow.

Not able to take waiting anymore, Bagsy stood up and began pacing, tapping her fingers together and breathing quickly. Today was the deadline – if she didn't receive an acceptance letter from Hogwarts, she never would, and her fate as a squib would be sealed forever. Her parents would banish her, she worried, and send her to a bog to live the rest of her days as a swamp hag. Only, she'd be a swamp hag with no magic, only mud.

'Do something productive if you're this stressed,' Bontie tutted as she descended the steps to the ground floor and gracefully swept towards the kitchen. Bagsy let out a yelp of surprise – she hadn't heard her sister approach. 'I can hear your fretting from upstairs – it's distracting. Some of us have to work, you know.'

'I do know, Rebontil, you never shut up about your ministry work,' Bagsy shot back in a small voice that failed to convey the snark she'd been hoping for.

Bontie puffed out in indignation regardless. Bagsy knew she hated her full name. 'The work I do is more important than you could ever understand, Bagsyllia. It's only natural I inform others of it.' Turning away from Bagsy, Bontie reached her hand into a slab of magical ice that stood at the corner of the kitchen. An assortment of different meals hovered frozen within, ready to be eaten the second they were pulled free. The ice allowed Bontie's hand to freely travel within it as she selected her favourite food, some cacti spine noodles. 'Now, if you'll excuse me,' she said haughtily, walking up the winding, narrow stairs, 'the ministry needs me to write a report on our rehabilitation of pugwugs in the Midlands.'

Bagsy waited until her sister was out of sight, then started to pace again.

'Try building one of your annoying inventions, if you must,' her sister called in annoyance from above. 'Do as I say, and do something besides worry, and you'll feel better.'

With a sigh of defeat, Bagsy cast a woeful glance out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that revealed no sign of an owl, and trudged up to her room, mumbling in self-pity as she went.

Bontie was gifted. She'd told Bagsy that, as a child, she could double the size of the cake slices Himble and Florentchia gave her or make the clock hands move to sneak an extra hour of play before bed. Taking inspiration, Bagsy had done the same in her childhood, only she'd had to cut herself an extra-large slice when her parents weren't looking, or construct an extendable wooden stick to push the clock hands around. It hadn't been hard – Mr and Mrs Beetlehorn never paid her much attention. They'd never noticed all the little tricks Bagsy had played using her inventions. They had also failed to notice that Bagsy had yet to produce any kind of magic.

Bagsy, on the other hand, had been growing more aware of her own inability as the years ticked by. Now she was eleven years old, and of the age to start her magical education at the prestigious Hogwarts school of Magic. Term started on the first of September, and the latest a witch, wizard or spellcaster could accept enrolment was by the 31st of July. Today was the 30th of July - the last possible day a Hogwarts letter could arrive.

Bagsy's mum and dad were, as usual, holed up in their studies on the higher floors of the house, working on their creations. She wasn't too sure what her mum and dad's professions were, but she did know they had work based in both the UK and America that was focussed on potion manufacturing and were constantly trying to find new ways to streamline production. Busy as they were they hadn't noticed a lack of a Hogwarts letter or been able to help distract Bagsy from the gruelling summer she'd been having waiting for one she knew, deep down, wouldn't arrive.

She pushed open the door to her room slowly, peeping inside with wide eyes. Her stress only made her more suspicious, she wouldn't step foot in the room until she was sure no boggarts or ghouls were present.

Room clear, Bagsy walked in and fetched her bottomless tool kit from below her bed, and the potions kit Bontie had handed down to her from her time at Hogwarts. Bontie had a newer, better set, to allow for her love of potion making and Bagsy was more than happy to take her leftover kit.

Bagsy's room was filled with all sorts of odd things. There were toys she'd taken apart and recombined, drawings pinned up on every available surface that depicted flying trees, portal-grappling hooks, houses with legs and mirrors that could duplicate what was presented to them. None of the sketches were very good, Bagsy was still young, after all, but she liked to think she'd improve with practise.

She fiddled with a basic grappling hook she'd cobbled together from some wood, twine and glue, testing out the strength of her triple-threaded twine to see if it could hold her weight by attaching it to her bed's frame and pulling as hard as her little arms could manage. It wasn't breaking, but Bagsy wanted to be on the safe side, so rummaged through her drawers for some kind of hardening gel she could coat the twine with. The real difficulty was turning an ordinary grappling hook into a portal grappling hook. The idea was that whatever you aimed the grappling hook at, a portal would open in front of the twine, and another at the location you wanted to end up at. The twine would shoot through the portal, attach to the target destination and, with vigour, pull the user through the portal as well. With no magic to speak of, Bagsy could only dream of such an invention.

As Bagsy aimed the grappling hook out of her window, only for the twine to uselessly fall down towards the floor, and she let out a defeated sigh before reeling it back in. Like with her drawings, Bagsy also hoped her inventions would improve with practise.

That had been her hope for magic, too, but it was starting to get dark now, and her acceptance letter still hadn't arrived.

She'd paused her thoughts on the grappling hook and was half-way through designing bubble-gum parachutes when Mistius, Bontie's owl who looked perpetually shocked with its dinner-plate eyes, fluttered into the room.

Bagsy shot to her feet instantly, her eyes growing as wide as Mistius'. 'It can't be…' she breathed. She stood in silence for so long that eventually Mistius chucked the letter at her with a talon and flapped off, giving an impatient hoot. Bagsy scrambled to the floor where the latter had fallen, tearing it open with shaking hands.

Hogwarts School of Magic

Deputy Head Professor: Emese Starrett

Dear Ms Beetlehorn,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted-

With a cry of joy, Bagsy stopped reading, throwing the letter triumphantly into the air.

She was going to Hogwarts!

Bagsy dedicated the rest of her evening to getting her parents' attention. The anti-disturbance charms on their studios were difficult to bypass, and in the end it was only because her father grew hungry and left his room to grab a snack that she managed to intercept his path and tell him the good news.

He blinked down at Bagsy blankly. 'You hadn't already received it?' he asked in confusion.

'No! It only just arrived, look!' Bagsy said, shoving the letter in his face. Himble lent back and squinted at the words through his spectacles. Bagsy's dad was always scruffy from his work, and it was rare to see him braving the cold light of the world outside his study. Like Bagsy, he was short, with what he would describe as a friendly face, but Bontie had on many occasions labelled chubby.

'I suppose I'll need to write a response, won't I?' he sighed. 'Bother. Best get a quill, then. I just had one, now where did I put it?'

Bagsy pointed at Himble's ear, where the quill was tucked away, as it always was.

Wiping his greasy hands on his overalls, Himble took the quill from his ear, produced some paper from a pocket, and quickly scrawled out a response. 'That should do it,' he breathed, whistling for Mistius to come and collect the letter. 'If that's all,' he said to Bagsy, going to move past her and fetch his much-needed snack from the kitchen.

'Um, actually,' Bagsy forced herself to say in a small voice. She knew her parents hated to be pestered, but she didn't have much of a choice. 'It's only, I need to collect some school items from Diagon Alley and I can't go alone…'

Himble stared down at her, scrunching his nose up as his shoulders sagged. 'I suppose I'll have to take you, then. Tomorrow morning it is. A quick trip – no need to be outside longer than absolutely necessary.'

Bagsy nodded eagerly. She hated the idea of going to Diagon Alley, there would be lots of people and noises to be frightened of, but there would also be something waiting for her that she'd longed for; her very own wand.

Before Bagsy could start a proper conversation, Himble dashed off towards the kitchen, disappearing from sight.

Bagsy returned to her own room and sat down on the carpeted floor, staring at her letter. She sat like that for a while, just smiling, allowing herself to appreciate the truth of the situation, and periodically pinching herself to make sure it was the truth. When she grew bored of that, she decided to read a book on famous alchemists, shuddering at the tale of one who narrowly escaped the clutches of a hidden coven of doppelgangers aiming to steal his identity, and marvelling at the bravery of another who used her cunning to avoid being eaten alive by vampires, tricking them into misremembering the time of day so they'd burn alive in the sunlight.

When the next morning arrived, Bagsy was so excited and yet so terrified of what was to come that she struggled to breathe. For the first time ever, she would be visiting Diagon Alley. The Beetlehorn family preferred to stay inside and away from prying eyes, but when a child is to attend Hogwarts school for Magic, visiting the local shops is unavoidable.

To minimise the time they'd spend away from home Himble Beetlehorn had decided they should divide and conquer. Bagsy was to go alone to Exception Alley, a side street off Diagon Alley, to purchase a wand from one of the high-end stores her parents preferred, while Himble collected her books, cauldrons and robes. Bagsy felt unsure shopping alone, but if it shortened the trip she was all for it.

At first, the strange people milling the street had been nearly overwhelming. Tall pointed hats, multi-coloured robes, cages with strange noises growling from inside and flashes of magical sparks crammed around her. When Himble left her on her own outside of the wand shop, she tipped over to being outright petrified. Everyone towered over her and, in their rush to reach their destinations, didn't notice the small girl they shoved by.

Wand of a Kind was a renowned wand store and very wide with black floors, walls and ceilings. Standing at its entrance Bagsy felt as if she was falling into the blackness of space and decided it was a welcome refuge from the clamour of the outside world, rushing inside to escape the bustling noise. Silver crates and trunks were stacked, or floated, around the room like over-sized stars and Bagsy couldn't explain why but they made her feel uneasy, and she struggled to find her way through the dark labyrinth to the till where a spiritless old lady sat. Left with 28 Galleons to splurge on the best wand money could buy, and all the time in the world, Bagsy and the old woman worked through wand after wand to find the right fit.

When nearly an hour passed, and no wand took a liking to her, Bagsy was almost in tears and the shop owner was huffing and puffing in frustration, berating Bagsy under her breath. 'Useless', 'picky', and 'spoilt' were just a few of the words she heard the woman hiss. She didn't understand what Bagsy was going through. She had received her acceptance letter from Hogwarts, but what if it had been a mistake? If no wand could work with her perhaps she was a squib and would have to live as a bog hag for the rest of her life after all.

Bagsy's dramatic thoughts cut off when at last the woman thrust a wand in to her hand that let out a pathetic spark at the end. Dumbfounded, Bagsy stared at the glossy wand, thinking she might collapse in relief. That had to mean something, surely? That had to mean she had magic. It might have taken an hour to find it, and the entirety of the shop worker's patience, but it had been worth it.

She was so relieved that, as she paid, Bagsy forgot to ask what the wand was made off. Once the transaction was complete, the elderly woman tapped her foot expectantly on the ground, clearly eager for Bagsy to leave now that she'd wasted an hour of her time.

'Um, miss…' Bagsy said timidly. The woman glared at her. 'Only… I was meant to get two wands… so I could have a spare.' When Bontie had been at Hogwarts she'd demanded owning two wands after her first had broken. Himble wanted to avoid a second trip to Diagon Alley at all costs so, in case Bagsy's first wand broke, she was to have a spare, just as Bontie'd had.

Bagsy was practically thrown from the shop. She thought ruefully on what her father had told her. He knew Bagsy was clumsy and expected her to break one of her wands within her first few years at Hogwarts. The Beetlehorns were certainly not short on money and by splurging on a spare wand as well as a main one, her father had found a clever way to avoid having to visit Hogsmeade with her sooner than absolutely necessary. Of course, that wouldn't matter if Bagsy couldn't find and buy a second wand.

Shrinking in on herself and trying her best to avoid contact with any witch, wizard or spellcaster that came near her, Bagsy tried to look for another shop that could give her a back-up wand. Her dad wouldn't be pleased if they had to be here longer than necessary.

Amidst the chaos of the crowd, where sellers called out their low prices for wart-sweets, pumpkin lanterns or self-write spell books, Bagsy felt a strange tugging at the back of her neck. It was as though there were a piece of string attached to her, revealing a clear path she must follow through the clamour. Her feet led her away from Exception Alley and to a store on the main street called Ollivander's.

She was familiar with it, who wasn't? But her parents had said the higher-end stores were better. Once, Ollivander's had been the best wand shop around, but after many generations and a few ruffian owners, it had lost the respect it had once held. At least, that's what her father had claimed.

Bagsy, desperate for a second wand, followed the tugging sensation and entered the shop regardless. If Himble didn't ask where the wand came from, which Bagsy knew he wouldn't, he'd never have to know.

Ollivander's was narrow and dark, with stacks of drawers filled with wand boxes. An old man with long, dark hair and watery eyes standing at the till looked at Bagsy with curiosity. Almost as soon as she had stepped into the place, a rattling noise sounded above their heads. The old man frowned and waved his wand, opening a wooden hatch in the ceiling. Bagsy would have pouted enviously at how easy the magic came to him, but was distracted by a small, thin box flying through the opening in the ceiling. It landed on the till in front of Bagsy, jittering around, and it took all her effort not to cry out in fear.

'Few of my wands wanted to choose your parents,' the man murmured conspiratorially. Bagsy looked at him with wide, mistrusting eyes at his comment, her heart pounding in her ears. How did he know who her parents were? She didn't look thatsimilar to them. 'Strange that this one leaps at your mere passing.'

Bagsy looked up at the man, then the box, then took a fearful step back. Perhaps this had been a bad idea, after all.

The man gripped her shoulder and pulled her forward again. 'No, child, don't be scared. I think you've found your wand.' He gestured at the box, letting go of her shoulder.

Pushing aside her misgivings, Bagsy reached forward and took it. The box began to shake insistently and with a deep breath and timid hands, Bagsy opened it. It instantly stilled and Bagsy was looking down at the plainest wand she'd ever seen. It was brown, and long, and thin, and had no extra marks or decorations. Even the box it was in was plain. Bagsy furrowed her brow.

The old man nodded at the box, 'Nine inches, walnut, very flexible…' He trailed off, a deep frown of recognition unfurling on his face.

'What's the core?' Bagsy asked. She'd read about wand craft. Every wand had something magical at its core.

The old man, whom she presumed was Ollivander, hesitated. He snapped the box shut, startling Bagsy. 'I'm sorry, child, but I did not realise what this was until now. I cannot sell you this wand,' he said, putting a ladder in place to reach the hatch, and climbing up it.

'But you just said I'd found my wand! Please sir!' Bagsy begged. 'I need a back-up wand!'

Ollivander huffed unhappily at that. 'No Ollivander wand is a back-up wand, young lady,' he said disapprovingly.

Bagsy looked down sadly at the box containing the wand from Wand of a Kind. 'Well, if you don't mind me asking, what do you think of this wand?' she asked, holding out the one she'd purchased earlier.

Ollivander paused in his ascent, intrigued. His mind made up, he climbed back down, put the plain box with the plain wand on the till, and took the wand Bagsy had already bought. Side by side, he compared the two. Bagsy was struggling to keep her eyes off of the box with the other wand. It felt… right.

'Hmmm…' Ollivander peered through his spectacles at the Wand of a Kind wand. It was a deep bronze colour with a shiny finish. 'Hornbeam and… unicorn hair… 10 inches…' He tapped the wand next to his ear and listening closely before handing it back. 'It's a good wand. It's no Ollivander wand, of course, but it's good all the same.'

Bagsy was still eyeing the other wand lying in its box tantalizingly. On second viewing, she saw it wasn't entirely plain – rather than being smooth and round, it was the thinnest, longest pyramid she'd ever seen with a small square base and a sharp pointed tip. It was so long and thin she'd missed the four edges that ran along its length the first time.

Ollivander regarded her as she gazed longingly at the wand. He sighed to himself, 'What's the harm… Pick it up, child, see how it feels.'

Bagsy's hand surged forward and grabbed the wand. It felt light in her hand, and the wood, walnut as the man had said, was smooth and soft. She gave it a flick. Nothing happened as far as Bagsy could tell but Ollivander was suddenly excited.

'How odd,' he muttered, gathering a bag and wrappings. 'How odd indeed.' He looked at Bagsy thoughtfully. 'You can have that for free.'

'Really?' Bagsy asked, amazed. 'For free?'

Ollivander nodded, putting the wand back in its plain box, then wrapping it and tying it closed with string.

'But… You said it wasn't for sale?'

'It wasn't, I thought it was a broken wand,' Ollivander admitted. 'I made it a long, long time ago as an experiment at the suggestion of a batty old witch. It never managed to bring forth any magic – I assumed it was a failed project – but I can tell that wand is meant to be yours.' He leant uncomfortably close as he put the box in her hands. 'I'm excited to see what you do with it.'

'Thanks,' Bagsy gulped.

As she was leaving, Ollivander called after her. 'Pewter!' he said.

Bagsy looked over her shoulder in confusion. Cauldrons were often made from Pewter. What did Ollivander want with that sort of metal? 'What?'

'That's the wand's core,' Ollivander smiled. 'Pewter. The oddest experiment I've ever done with wand craft and here I am, meeting its match.' His smile seemed to change. 'Indeed, there is a witch for every wand,' his voice fell to a whisper, 'even this one.'

Bagsy didn't remark on the strange twist of the proverb as she left. She hurried straight to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, the task her father had set her completed.

There wasn't a straight line, or space to breathe, in Diagon Alley; it was far slimmer than Exception Alley and Bagsy felt dizzy by the time she re-joined her father at their rendezvous, where she was swiftly measured for the latest and finest witches' robes.

'Got everything you need?' Himble asked as materials were swept on and off her shoulders with the soft clipping noises of scissors working away. Bagsy didn't get a chance to respond before the shop assistant cut in.

'That'll be-'

Bagsy's dad cut the clerk off. 'Keep the change,' he said, proudly tossing 5 Galleons onto the till, the coins slightly smudged from the grease his hands had rubbed onto them. Bagsy had to admit it was odd seeing her father in a shop, instead of slouching over his work bench in his study, shooing her away with a dismissive hand as he tried to return to his project. 'Come on, Bagsyllia,' he ushered her out of the shop, waiving the last pieces of fluttering fabrics away from her arms and missing how Bagsy cringed at the use of her full name. She followed obediently, clasping the box with the walnut wand tightly as they went.

Her dad pulled out a list and squinted his eyes at it, seeing what was left. 'An owl, a cat or a toad…' he mumbled, sounding like someone who very much wanted all this hassle to be over and done with. He looked back at Bagsy. 'Well? Be quick about it.'

'Rat,' Bagsy said.

Himble narrowed his eyes, read over the list again, and gave her a sideways look. 'That wasn't one of the options, Bagsyllia.'

'Plenty of students have non-standard pets – you've said so yourself,' Bagsy argued defensively, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. The few times he had spoken with Bagsy, Himble had often complained about his time at Hogwarts.

'It was a nightmare,' he admitted gruffly. 'Rufus didn't know how to keep his loud hound under control, and Gerard's tarantula was gross. I suppose if the school allows those it can't complain about rats.' He shrugged. 'At the end of the day it doesn't really matter to me.'

Her father convinced, they entered the pet store. Magical Menagerie felt more like a fortress of cages than a shop, you could hardly see the walls for thin, metal bars crossing over each other like cobwebs and the animals filling the cages were just as numerous. Colourful birds, fanged toads, six legged rabbits and fire spouting salamanders scuttled about the confines of their small homes. Bagsy shuddered at the idea of being them, stuck in such small spaces all day with barely room to turn.

After a quick chat with the clerk, a dour young woman, Bagsy had two rats happily chirping up at her. She named them Jill and Bill, insisting to her father that 'Bill can be a girl's name, I swear!' and that 'You can't buy just one rat, it'll be lonely!' Which was true - Bagsy had read so. When asked, the shop assistant nodded irritably in agreement. Bill was rather fat and Siamese, whilst Jill we a lively brown rat, and Bagsy was already enamoured with the both of them.

'That's everything. We can finally leave,' her dad concluded after they'd made sure they had what they needed.

'Thank Merlin. This place is too crowded. I can't stand people,' Bagsy muttered. She had what she needed for Hogwarts, so all the upsides of Diagon Alley were gone, but the noise and rushing crowd remained. Bagsy's dad hummed in agreement.

With a fiery flash, the Floo network carried Bagsy and Himble home. Bagsy found herself stood in the large, open plan living area. Her father had arrived in the Floo station in his study, so Bagsy walked up the creaky wooden stairs to her bedroom alone. Her bedroom was spacious and easily accommodated all her new possessions as she tossed them onto her floor, checking again that she had the equipment needed for her first year.

Himble would pop in and collect her when it was time to catch the Hogwarts Express. Her mother and father were simply too busy with their work to focus too much time on Bagsy who, of course, didn't mind in the slightest. Like her parents, she had work to attend to, work that would keep her distracted until it was time to leave.

Wooden pieces floated in the air around Bagsy; her bottomless toolkit telekinetically held items in place while she pieced her ideas together. She was trying to visualise how she could build a circular ladder that could stick to surfaces and ride up walls when she felt that familiar tugging on the back of her neck. Swivelling around, her eyes narrowed in on the plain, wooden box.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to use the walnut wand. It seemed dangerous, somehow, even if it did feel right. Something within her kept pulling her towards it, as if it were an old friend, but Bagsy didn't have any friends, so the sensation that had briefly excited her now only made her suspicious.

Bagsy decided she'd use the hornbeam wand for the time being – it had made a spark when she'd held it, after all, while the walnut wand hadn't.

With that sorted, she began reading through her books, practicing spells (her parents easily afforded the trace exemption permit), and organising what she'd take with her. Unfortunately, she failed to produce any more magic from her wand, the spark in the shop seeming to have been a fluke. She did briefly give the walnut wand a wave, but it didn't make any magic either, and the feeling of the pulling at the back of her neck gave her goose bumps, so she put it away.

Her sister, Bontie, popped her head in the next day to tell Bagsy there was food in the ice slab when she wanted it.

On her way out Bontie paused, seeing Bagsy practicing and packing for Hogwarts, and let out a sigh. 'I don't envy you,' Bontie said. 'Hogwarts is a horrible place. It's filled with idiots.'

Bagsy looked silently at her sister. They'd had this talk already – Bagsy didn't entirely disagree. Part of her wanted to stay in her room and never set foot on the Hogwarts Express, but another part of her knew she'd never be able to cast spells if she didn't go, and if there was one thing she feared more than people, it was being magic-less.

Bontie walked into the room properly, glancing derisively at Bagsy's book of the most famous Artificers of the century, and then noticing the two rats sleeping on her pillow. 'I always knew you were odd, Bagsy, but rats? They can't deliver letters. They're almost as useless as you are.'

Bagsy smirked. 'Duh, that's why I wanted them.' As much as Bontie insulted her, Bagsy felt it was all in good fun. It was familiar for jibes and taunts to shoot back and forth between them. It was perhaps the one time Bagsy felt confident when talking to another human being.

Bontie laughed. 'Fair enough, oddball.' Then, a scheming look crossed Bontie's features. 'I may not want to return to Hogwarts; but I do wish I could retake that first DADA lesson though.'

'DADA?'

'Defence Against the Dark Arts.' Bontie waved her hand as if to usher away her sister's annoying question.

'Why do you want to retake it?'

'So I could know what was coming.' Bontie smiled wickedly. 'It's pretty horrific. If I had another chance, I'd make sure I was more prepared.'

'You're just making this up to scare me,' Bagsy protested, but something stiffened in her chest. A thrill of fright ran through her as she worried the hem of her robes, looking down at the floor to avoid Bontie's gaze.

There was an expression of fond warmness on Bontie's face for a second, and then it was gone, replaced with a forcibly empty stare. 'I'm not,' Bontie said stiffly, before giving her a wave an abruptly leaving the room. Bagsy didn't see her sister again before going to Hogwarts, and wondered if she was avoiding her, which only helped build the knot of anxiety in her stomach.

Bagsy felt very nervous about going to Hogwarts.