Greenda stayed for tea that night. Bagsy felt embarrassed that her parents didn't bother to cook something even when she had a friend over, but wasn't surprised, either, so she'd recommended a local take-away restaurant, Dumplings and Dollops, for food. Her and her sister practically lived off their meals.
'Do your parents usually leave you to fend for yourself?' Greenda asked, looking concerned.
'No!' Bagsy lied, shame sitting heavy in her stomach. 'No, no, they love to cook for us. They cook all the time. They cook things like… vegetables and… bread…' Folding her arms, Greenda narrowed her eyes at Bagsy sceptically. 'They're just busy today, that's all,' she insisted.
Greenda fixed Bagsy with a look, standing in thought for a few moments. 'How about I cook for you?' she said at last, going to the cupboard with the ice slab and opening it. She was met with a horde of just-add-water meals floating within the ice. 'This isn't food.' Greenda crinkled her nose in distaste. 'Wait here.' She grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from a glass box above the fire place and disappeared with a flash of fire and the words "Middle Frogton." Ten minutes later she reappeared with a handful of groceries that she placed on the island. 'I'm going to teach you how to cook.' Greenda beamed. 'And you're going to love it.'
She was right on both accounts.
Greenda loved to talk and Bagsy knew and enjoyed this. Listening to all the wisdom she had on food was fascinating and Bagsy thought her brain would burst from all the new information she was receiving. Apparently, food always tasted better when it was cooked with love, so Greenda made sure to smile and sing and twirl around the kitchen as she brought together a hearty stew and some freshly made bread. Also apparently, muggles took forever to make bread. Greenda said her younger brother, who was a squib, took hours to knead and prove his bread, meanwhile she flicked her wand this way and that and the bread was ready to go in the oven instantly.
Bagsy looked glumly at the bread. If she wanted to make bread, she'd have to make it the muggle way, too.
'I'm only using a spell to speed things up because we don't have much time,' Greenda added hastily as she put the fresh dough in the oven. 'Usually I make it the muggle way, just like my brother. It's more social that way – we make the bread together, you see – and personally I think it tastes better. Sometimes, it's better when you're forced to do things without magic. It makes you more appreciative, and even gives you a better end result.'
Bagsy tried to bite back a smile, turning her face away and looking at the dough she'd made with a warm feeling in her chest.
By the time they'd finished preparing two mammoth bowls of stew and a golden loaf of bread, Bagsy's mouth was salivating and her mind was alive with new ideas for things she could cook. Greenda warned her not to cook alone but Bagsy was sure she'd be fine if she did. It wasn't like her parents would care, anyway. She could burn the house down and they'd barely notice.
After it was dark Greenda said her goodbyes, promising to visit for more cooking and quidditch lessons, and when she was gone Bagsy felt the loneliness that had been crushing her before was much lighter, and the last few weeks before the first of September, when she'd be returning to Hogwarts, felt manageable.
Greenda wasn't the only person she wanted to see, though. Mezrielda's letters had grown very short and formal, so Bagsy let her know when she'd be visiting Diagon Alley to buy her school supplies, so they could meet up and talk in person. Bagsy reckoned she just wasn't one for written conversation, but when Mezrielda wrote back, the tone and writing of her words seemed off. She said she wouldn't meet with Bagsy at Diagon Alley because she was too busy and Bagsy worried she had realised how lame Bagsy was and didn't want to be her friend anymore. As a result, when the day arrived to purchase her school supplies from Diagon Alley, she was already in a sour mood. Sitting neatly on the sofa in the living area, Bagsy looked at the Floo network fireplace.
'I took her last time,' Bagsy's dad said in a hushed voice he thought Bagsy couldn't hear.
'Yes, because I was busy and Bontie didn't want to babysit her,' Florentchia, Bagsy's mother, responded hotly.
'Well, now I'm busy, so it's your turn.'
'Bontie really can't spare one day from her work at the Ministry?' Florentchia was walking down the stairs now, her voice growing louder.
'You know how busy the Ministry's got everyone working. They still haven't found those stolen creatures, and people are starting to talk about who might have done it. Poor Bontie's doing the best she can given the circumstances.' Bagsy's dad spotted her. He hesitated awkwardly, forcing a smile. 'I've got to work, honey,' he explained apologetically, 'so mum is going to take you to Diagon Alley this year.'
Bagsy's hazel eyes fixed on Florentchia, who smiled at her warmly.
'I know we're not around much,' Florentchia apologised. 'We're very busy with our work, you see. Couldn't afford all this if we didn't keep our heads down, now, could we?' Florentchia gestured at the house around them.
Bagsy smiled stiffly and nodded. 'I know. Thank you.' She always stayed polite with her parents. She was certain they didn't mean to be so distant, even if they were, and even if it infuriated her sometimes. Besides, she was sure their work was more interesting than her – she couldn't really blame them.
'Right, get yourself ready and we'll head off,' Florentchia announced, Himble shuffling up the stairs back to his workshop with a mumbled 'have fun'.
Bagsy was ready and her mother, who was always prepared, didn't need to change out of her practical robes before they left. Unlike Bagsy, Florentchia was tall and slender, with beautiful, curvy brown locks that fell to her thighs and were charmed with many maintenance spells to uphold their luxurious appearance.
'Diagon Alley!' Florentchia pronounced clearly as they stood in the fire place. The second they materialized in Diagon Alley Florentchia seized Bagsy's hand and marched them purposefully towards Flourish and Blotts. She rather loudly, and with dramatic waves of her hand, exclaimed 'Excuse me!' and 'Coming through!' to the other patrons crowding the street, whilst Bagsy ducked her head low as they rudely shoved their way through, hoping no one would notice her. 'List.' Florentchia held her hand out expectantly to Bagsy as if she were a helper on one of her new projects. Bagsy fumbled with her robe and pulled out a crumpled list she passed to her mother. Florentchia frowned disapprovingly at the state of the paper and scanned her eyes over it. She clicked her fingers a few times expectantly as they entered the shop, the glinting bangles on her wrist clinking against each other. A store clerk hurried over, bowing deeply. He didn't look older than sixteen and Bagsy reckoned he just wanted some extra money to buy sweets or quidditch books with.
'We want these, please,' Florentchia announced importantly, presenting the list to the clerk and tapping it with a finger. The boy scanned the list and nodded, looking at Florentchia uncertainly. Bagsy looked around herself, shifting from one foot to the other, wondering if anyone she knew could see how demanding her mother was being. Bagsy enjoyed any time she got to spend with her parents, but they always seemed so sharp with the people around them.
Once they'd collected the books Bagsy needed, Florentchia insisted she get some new robes. 'You're a growing girl, Bagsyllia, don't forget it,' she chimed, leading her out of the shop and towards Madam Malkin's Robes for Every Occasion.
'But my old ones fit just fine,' Bagsy protested. 'I only got them last year.'
'One whole year! They're probably messy and tatty beyond belief.' Florentchia sounded impatient.
'I suppose… especially after what happened last year, they are a little roughed up…' Bagsy trailed off. Last year in the search for the thorned gauntlet, an item that could grant one wish, Bagsy had fallen a great height and landed in dust and rubble. She'd then been attacked by a giant beast with many arms and teeth and had finally been rescued by the wish Mezrielda had made – that Bagsy would survive. Her robes were perhaps a little worn and with a few holes here and there as a result. Bagsy had sewn them up as best she could, and they looked fine, but Florentchia wouldn't stand for even the slightest bit of untidiness. Then again, it wasn't like Florentchia ever checked that Bagsy's robes were tidy in the first place.
'What happened last year?' Florentchia asked, looking down at her for the first time, her brow knitted together.
Bagsy stopped in her tracks and blinked, before looking up at her. 'You don't know?' she asked in a small voice. Florentchia shook her head. 'Didn't you receive a letter?'
Florentchia laughed. 'Who has time to read every letter, Bagsy? Unless something is urgent, it goes in the shredder. Silly girl.' Florentchia kept walking, having seemingly forgotten her concerns over what had happened to Bagsy last year.
'I nearly died!' Bagsy blurted out angrily, coming to a stop in the middle of the street. Some of the shoppers around her startled, casting her weird looks. An old witch with a wrinkled face glowered at her, mumbling disapprovingly as she deliberately gave her a wide birth. Usually terrified of attention, Bagsy found herself not noticing. In her mind she saw rows of sharp, grinning teeth as she fell through the air to her doom. It left little room for concerns about the people around her.
After a few moments, though, Bagsy regretted her outburst, wondering where the sudden spike of emotion had risen from as Florentchia stopped in her tracks a few paces ahead, her shoulders tense. It seemed, for a second, as if Florentchia was about to reprimand her.
Instead, without even looking back, Florentchia waved her hand dismissively and set off once more. 'We don't have time for theatrics. Come along, we need to get you fitted for some new robes.'
Hanging her head, Bagsy glumly followed behind her. She glanced around but didn't recognise any of the people giving her odd looks until they were right outside Madam Malkins Robes for all Occasions. On the other side of the street from them, as Florentchia pulled Bagsy into the shop by the collar of her robe, she saw a man who looked incredibly familiar. He was short with blonde, curly locks and a small, pointed nose. Bagsy realised with a start that he was the spitting image of Emmeline, Greenda's bully, and Primrose, the Emmeline-look-a-like in Bagsy's year who'd caused her a bit of grief throughout her first year at Hogwarts.
'That must be their father,' Bagsy murmured to herself.
'Stop day dreaming,' Florentchia snapped, roughly positioning her, as if she were a doll, in front of the tailor. 'Stand still for the lady.'
Once Florentchia had finished buying everything Bagsy needed, from rat supplies, to hair care potions, 'Honestly, Bagsy, do something about this mess!', to a brand-new cauldron set, Bagsy had noticed the brooms in the front of Quality Quidditch supplies and was hungering for one. Last year she'd been refused one for being a first year. Now she was a second year she could finally get her own.
'Honestly, I can't believe Himble let you buy rats…' Florentchia was saying, rummaging past the self-growing celery and hands-free carrot patch. 'Useless, dirty, mangy things. An owl would be much more useful.'
'Bontie said the same thing last year,' Bagsy mumbled, her eyes latched onto the Dragon Wing – Obsidian Edition in the shop window. She placed her hands on the glass, leaning in close to get a better look.
'And right she is.' Florentchia straightened up. 'How about a treat, Bagsy. A gift from me to you.'
Bagsy looked back at Florentchia in surprise, before beaming widely, her head swivelling from her mother to the broom. 'Really?' she gasped out, not quite believing it. Her mother had never bought her a gift she'd actually wanted before.
Looking pleased with herself, Florentchia gave a self-important nod. 'I'll get you an owl to join your rats.'
Hopes dashed, Bagsy's smile fell, her eyes trailing slowly back to the broom in the window. 'Is that allowed?' she asked, not taking her eyes of the broom. 'Having three familiars?
Florentchia chuckled. 'It doesn't matter if it is, Bagsy, we'll send a letter to the Headmistress if need be. I can't imagine it will take a large sum of galleons to convince them.'
'Head professor,' Bagsy cut in tensely, glaring at Florentchia.
Florentchia shrugged. 'Whatever she wants to be called.'
'They,' Bagsy muttered furiously under her breath, folding her arms angrily. 'I don't want an owl, and I don't need an owl,' she added, loud enough to hear.
'Of course, you do – how else will you send letters?'
'Other owls do it for me,' Bagsy explained, but Florentchia was already walking towards Magical Menagerie, expecting her to follow. With one last look at the broom, Bagsy did so.
The clerk inside had grown tired of Florentchia's snappy demands and was not too pleased to see her again.
'We'd like an owl,' Florentchia declared. The clerk blinked tiredly and pointed to the many owls perched above their heads. Florentchia pointed at a large snowy owl. 'She's gorgeous, isn't she, Bagsy?' Florentchia cooed. 'And strong, too. I bet she'd deliver mail faster than any of the other owls at school.'
Bagsy ignored her mum's suggestion and looked at the rats instead. None of them were as cool as her rats, Bill and Jill. Bill was a rather fat rat, with creamy fur and chocolate coloured feet and ears. Jill, a lithe and lively rat, was a charming mousy brown like Bagsy's hair. Both of them were perfect.
'We'll have the snowy owl,' Florentchia told the clerk, who sighed and got out a step ladder.
'Wait!' Bagsy protested and the clerk paused. Standing next to the rats was an owl that could fit into her two cupped hands. It was brown and amber, with darker flecks, and had the most beautiful, wide eyes Bagsy had ever seen. They were entirely black and blinked peacefully at Bagsy. Its small yellow beak opened, and a tiny, shrill noise called out to her. It was a pitiful squeak, as if noise was not something the owl found easy to make, despite its best efforts. The rats seemed not to mind this owl, nor did the owl mind the rats. 'I'd like this one, please, sir, if that's okay?' Bagsy asked as politely as she could, hoping to make up for her mother's rudeness. The clerk descended the step ladder to walk over to the small owl.
'That's a tawny owl.' Florentchia turned her nose up. 'It's tiny, dear. I think the snowy owl is much better.'
'I'd like this one, please, mum. This one gets on well with rats,' Bagsy explained.
Florentchia sighed but nodded her permission with a roll of her eyes.
'This one's got a name,' the clerk said kindly to Bagsy, fetching a large owl cage and coaxing the tawny owl inside, who very delicately waddled his way into the space, settling down on the perch. He was a small bowling ball of fluffy feathers with two sleepy black eyes peering cautiously out at her. He was short and round and friendly looking, like Bagsy. 'Eldritch.'
Bagsy looked at the owl with interest. 'Hello, Eldritch,' she greeted him softly.
They were on their way to the Floo network with all they'd purchased when Bagsy noticed they were walking past Quality Quidditch Supplies once more. 'Mum, could I get a broom for this year, please?' she asked.
'What happened to the one we bought you before?'
'I gave it to Bontie.' Bagsy's stomach went cold. She expected a punishment.
'Oh, okay then, sure,' Florentchia said dismissively. Bagsy felt slightly disappointed. 'Listen, I'm very busy and I've had enough of all this. I'll take these items home and you go and get yourself a broom.' Florentchia took the things they'd bought and left Bagsy with Eldritch, sleeping in his cage, and a handful of galleons – more than the most expensive broom could possibly cost. 'You're old enough to manage the Floo network alone, aren't you? Good.'
Without so much as a 'see you later', Bagsy's mum was rushing off to the Floo station. Bagsy watched her go in silence, mouth downturned. Once her mother was out of sight, she turned to Quality Quidditch supplies and walked inside. Eldritch was quiet in his cage despite the jostling as Bagsy scrambled over to the Dragon Wing broom. She was about to grasp the broom, her hands stretching out to it greedily, when she found herself hesitating. The price tag gleamed at the end of the broom. It was expensive, far more expensive than anyone on the other Quidditch teams could afford, let alone the Hufflepuffs. It didn't feel right to get such a wonderful broom simply because she had money. Staring longingly at the broom but resisting its tantalising pull, she instead selected the cheapest broom she could find – a Fleet Footed Fox – and collected all the spare broom parts at the back of the store, intending on upgrading the broom to be as good a quality as the Dragon Wing in the window, if she could manage it.
Eldritch blinked his eyes, inspecting the broom and the broom parts quizzically.
'Don't speak much, do you?' Bagsy asked him in a soft voice as she exited the shop.
'Talk to owls now, do you?' a snide voice remarked. Bagsy froze as she came face to face with Primrose – the Emmeline-look-a-like.
'N-no, I was just-'
'Still stutter though,' Primrose scoffed. The man Bagsy's presumed was Primrose's father was a few shops down, looking in the window of an artefact shop with interest. Bagsy hoped he'd notice and come over, but the man seemed entranced by what he was looking at. Not wanting any trouble, Bagsy averted her eyes from Primrose, remaining mute. 'What a sad picture this is,' Primrose went on. 'Some small, pathetic owl, the cheapest broom and broom parts, robes barely stitched together. Are your parents unemployed? Or dead? Or maybe they hate you so much they decided to make you pay for everything yourself?'
Tears pricked Bagsy's eyes. Maybe if she tried to appease Primrose she'd leave her alone. Deciding it was worth a shot, Bagsy gathered what little courage she had to speak. 'I really like your hair,' she tried lamely.
Flinching back at the strange comment, Primrose let out a bark of laughter and frowned at her. 'What?'
'I m-mean it,' Bagsy stuttered out hopefully. 'You and your sister have really nice hair. It's curly and blonde and styled really well. It suits you both.' Bagsy was hoping to placate Primrose. She was also speaking the truth – Primrose and Emmeline did both have very nice hair.
Clearly, though, Primrose had taken offense, as a deep fire of indignation sparked in her eyes. 'What's that supposed to mean? My 'sister'?' She made quotes with her fingers.
Bagsy stalled, her grip on Eldritch's cage tightening. The owl seemed to sense something was wrong, as his feathers were fluffed up even more than usual. 'She isn't your sister?'
Primrose's face went red. Face twitching in anger, she looked up and down the street. 'Follow me, and I'll tell you a secret,' Primrose whispered, looking like she was barely containing a volcano of rage inside of her. Bagsy nodded numbly, following behind Primrose as she was led into a side alley, out of view of the main street.
Spinning around, Primrose punched her. Bagsy fell to the floor, her broom and broom parts skidding across the cobbles with a clatter, and Eldritch's cage clanging onto the stones, the cage door buckling from the impact. Primrose dived on top of her, pinning her down, and took out her wand. Bagsy's eyes widened.
'You can't use magic outside of school!' Bagsy spluttered in fear.
Primrose grimaced. 'My family can afford the exemption license, something I doubt your poor waste-of-skin has even heard of.'
'I have heard of it!' Bagsy protested. 'My family has one too! I swear!' She knew she didn't look particularly wealthy at that moment, in her worn-out robes with her low-end purchases, but it had never occurred to her that someone would use money as a means of mockery. She guessed, as someone who'd never had to deal with not having money, it was only natural she'd have no clue about this, either.
'Even if you did have one, what good would it do? Like you could cast spells anyway.' Primrose's grin became suddenly sinister. 'Flagrate!' she hissed, a mad anger in her eyes. Bagsy let out a scream as her forehead burned a hot white pain like she'd never felt before. She squirmed but Primrose, who was surprisingly strong for her stature, held her down. 'Stay – still – you're – making – it – hard – to – write!' Primrose grit out.
An amber blur shot at Primrose, batting its wings at her face and screeching loudly. Primrose let go of Bagsy with a cry and flailed at Eldritch, trying to keep his talons away from her face. In the distraction, Bagsy scrambled to her feet, feeling dizzy from the searing pain in her forehead and leaning against the side wall of the alley. Eldritch fluttered back to his cage, the door of which was hanging open, and sat as if all was right with the world.
Primrose hissed like a cornered animal, small scratches dotting her cheeks. 'My dad'll hear about this!' she threatened, stalking past Bagsy and hitting her shoulder with her own, causing her to tumble to the ground again. Bagsy landed with an thud and took a second to collect herself. When she rolled onto her side to get back up, Primrose was gone. Quickly, she collected her broom, broom parts and Eldritch, and hurried home, keeping her head low and sniffling quietly.
The second the fire from the floo station disappeared and Bagsy was standing in the living room she collapsed to the floor, bringing her knees to her chest and crying into them. That was how Bontie found her an hour later when she arrived home herself.
'Bagsy? What's wrong-' Bontie silenced as she lifted her little sister's face upwards. Her expression slacked in shock, then tightened in fury. 'Who did that to you?'
'P-Primrose…' Bagsy stammered.
Bontie knelt in front of Bagsy, placing her fingers gently on her forehead to inspect something, her lips pursed tightly. 'I'm sending a letter to Hogwarts and fetching some stitchless stitches ointment. Stay here, Bagsy, and don't look in a mirror.' Bontie stood and rushed upstairs. Bagsy, naturally, hurried to the nearest mirror – the one above the fireplace she was sitting by.
Burned onto her face like a brand were the letters S-Q-U-I. Bagsy didn't need to be smart to know what the last letter would have been if Eldritch hadn't of attacked Primrose when he had.
'Thank you, Eldritch,' Bagsy murmured miserably to him, running her fingers through his feathers. Eldritch looked at her with his wide eyes as if to say, 'no problem'.
