By the end of the week Mezrielda and Bagsy found that sneaking off to the Eagle Club during personal study was impossible. Mistress Foncée seemed to have eyes on the back of her head. Foncée spent her time sat demurely on one of the library stools, back stiff-straight, reading a delicate book with spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She never seemed to look up from her book, except for when Bagsy and Mezrielda were creeping towards the exit, when she'd glance up and ask, curiously, where they were going and they'd mumble something non-committal and sit back down. Mezrielda would hit Bagsy with her best this is your fault scowl every time. Bagsy would feel guilty until she was walking down a corridor and would jump at a shadow or a distant noise of a painting saying 'hello there,' and had Mistress Foncée walking calmly at her side, assuring her she was safe. She also found the doors of the school didn't dare spit her back out or deny her entry with a staff member at her side, and even the rugs tripped her less than usual. But, then again, maybe Bagsy was just a clumsy person and it wasn't the rugs at all.

The best thing that happened at the end of the week was that the new Hufflepuff Quidditch team was posted on the notice board in the common room. Bagsy had finally admitted to herself she wasn't returning to her private room any time soon, the thought of sleeping alone was dreadful with Bagsy's new-found fear of the dark. She yawned and stretched her arms whilst walking out of the girl's dormitory and into the common room on Saturday morning. She was still in her pyjamas and slippers and had planned to sit down at one of the desks in the communal area and write her sister a letter. Instead, seeing the small flock of students around the notice board, Bagsy shuffled over to take a look.

New Quidditch Team:

Chasers: Katherine Hawkins, Ford Krinkle, Johnathan Krinkle

Beaters: Teresa Aviry, Bagsy Beetlehorn

Keeper: Emmeline Wirth

Seeker: Gren ('Greenda') Particularis

PS. Practise tonight at the pitch – optional

Blinking to make sure her eyes weren't mistaken, Bagsy re-read who were to be the beaters for the team. Her mouth fell open – she couldn't believe she'd made it.

Teresa, with Neve at her side, was already standing next to the board, beaming. 'I told you I'd get on the team!' she gloated to Neve, who rolled her eyes when Teresa wasn't looking.

'Of course, you did,' Neve murmured quietly. 'You definitely weren't in a state about it last night…'

Bagsy held back a giggle. Teresa had been a bit upset the night before, her fiery hair a mangled mess, her eyes a blotchy red, as she lamented her failures as a flyer.

'About time!' Jon cried, poking his finger pointedly at his name. 'Should've made it last year, but hey, at least they're rectifying the mistake.'

'Well done, Jon.' Bagsy smiled at him.

Jon smiled back. 'You too, Bagsy. I would say I'm surprised, but after you saved Emmeline's life how could you not get on the team?' With that, Jon turned and left for breakfast. Bagsy watched him leave, a horrid feeling shivering up her spine. Did she only make the team because of the incident with Emmeline's broom, and not because of her flying ability? She hated the thought.

The last line of the notice concerned Bagsy the most, though. How could practise be optional? Surely if you were on the Quidditch team you had to practise?

At breakfast Bagsy told Mezrielda the good news and Mezrielda, who had still been sulking about Mistress Foncée and her eagle eyes, brightened up a bit.

'That means I can watch you play,' she said.

'Duh,' Bagsy responded, deciding to have fruit salad and pumpkin juice for breakfast. One of Bagsy's favourite things about Hogwarts was its food. Unlike at home, where she lived off ready-made meals and take-away, Hogwarts had homecooked foods of all varieties at every meal.

'I think Quidditch will be a bit more interesting if someone I know is playing,' Mezrielda elaborated. That made more sense to Bagsy. 'Of course, I'll have to be careful not to be accused of sabotage again.'

That evening, Mistress Foncée said she needed to clean the stands around the quidditch pitch and walked with Bagsy down to practise. Bagsy had written to her sister that morning about the good news of her making the team. She had also decided, despite her better judgement, to tell Bontie about the incidents with Mezrielda's parents, though leaving out the use of Tod's power. She'd also told Bontie of Primrose's bullying and Bagsy's reporting her, even if it was for something she hadn't done. She left out the suits of armour debacle out, though.

The surprise on Ford Krinkle's face at the sight of the Hufflepuff team gathered on the Quidditch pitch confused Bagsy. 'I… I don't know what to say…' Ford rubbed the back of his head in puzzlement.

'What is it?' Teresa asked. She had one of the brooms Bagsy had modified last year – handed down to her from the previous beater who'd left the team.

'It's just, we've never had a full team training session before,' Ford admitted.

Greenda, who was standing to Ford's left leaning on her own broom, nodded. 'Every year until now we've had maybe four, five tops, at a time.' Teresa and Bagsy shared a scandalised look.

'It's true what they say,' Kat added. She was crouched on the ground tying up her flying shoes. 'Hufflepuffs take Quidditch less seriously.'

'It's not that we take it less seriously,' Emmeline cut in, pulling on a head protection device – something only keepers tended to wear. 'It's just that Jones, Pierre and Vara were lazy gits.'

'Emmeline! Language,' Ford snapped awkwardly, nodding in the direction of the three second years. Emmeline didn't seem to care.

Bagsy was trying to catch Greenda's eye. She'd had been avoiding her all week and, with her averted gaze, looked set on continuing the trend into training. It made her feel as if she were a bug that had been crushed beneath a very large boot. She was reminded distinctly of how her parent's doors back home told her not to disturb them when she knocked. Greenda had told her it was nothing personal, that it was best Bagsy made friends with kids her own age anyway, and maybe she was right, but it still hurt.

Practise mainly involved Ford yelling instructions at them whilst he whistled ahead on his broom, doing tricks and loop-de-loops as if he'd never had a better crowd than three second years, one of whom was his brother. One trick Bagsy had to admit was pretty cool was when Ford shot towards one of the goal hoops, jumped off his broom and dived through the hoop, before landing on his broom on the other side.

Bagsy and Teresa were focusing on getting used to the weight of their bats and how it affected their balance to swing them. Bagsy fell off a couple times so Ford insisted she stay low to the ground. Bagsy, swinging for a bludger and hitting it, often found she'd forgotten to balance, and would tumble onto the grass with an oof.

Teresa shouted, 'Walk it off, you'll be fine,' as she zoomed past, easily whacking the bludgers this way and that. Bagsy held back an eye roll and pushed herself onto her elbows. Her issue wasn't hitting the bludgers – it was staying on her broom despite the imbalance the action caused. As she pushed herself back to her feet, she furrowed her brow, noticing a squirming in the grass. Worms were wriggling between the green blades, spelling something out. Heart racing, she peered closer.

'The corv-' Bagsy began to read aloud, only for a crow to swoop speedily down and collect half the worms in its beak before disappearing off again. The next second another crow dived down to take the remaining worms. Bagsy watched the crows fly off in confusion, wondering what the worms had been trying to tell her.

'You'll live, Bagsy, now get back on your broom!' Teresa yelled, thwacking a bludger to hit the ground where she was. With a yelp and a panicked scramble Bagsy was back on her broom and in the air.

After practise Bagsy hurried over to Greenda. 'Greenda!' she called, but Greenda was already walking back to the castle, paying her no attention and talking to Ford, instead. Bagsy deflated.

'Come, I expect you want to return to your dorm,' Mistress Foncée told Bagsy gently. She nodded quietly and followed Foncée back to the castle, her feet dragging.

Bagsy told Mezrielda about the worms she'd seen during Quidditch practise and they spent one rainy afternoon looking for more, hoping to read the rest of the message, but the crows were deathly efficient and persistent, and any worm they found was quickly snapped up. In the end, they were both wet, miserable and information-less.

Mistress Foncée, who'd been standing in the Hogwarts entrance way, watching them, shook her bewildered head as they went back inside, teeth chattering. 'You two are quite odd.'

'Thank you. We hadn't noticed,' Mezrielda deadpanned.

Mezrielda's mood didn't improve much over the following weeks. She'd received detention for the whole term and had to work in the kitchens most nights, organising the cutlery and helping the elves with cleaning, and smelt of dish soap in the mornings. Once Bagsy told Mezrielda so, and quickly learnt it had been a bad idea.

'I wouldn't smell of dish soap if someone hadn't insisted I come support them for quidditch try-outs!' Mezrielda hissed.

Bagsy held up her hands. 'I didn't insist, I asked.'

Luckily for Bagsy, they had been quickly distracted by Teresa, Neve and Paloma's conversation.

'It's so unfair,' Paloma whined. 'Of course, we're the last year who has to go through it.'

'What's this?' Bagsy asked, leaning towards the group.

Teresa looked ready to pull someone's head off. 'The first years this year didn't have to take Fitzsimmons' dumb test,' she growled. 'You know, the test where you fall onto a bunch of spikey rocks and die?' Neve shuddered, putting the paper she'd been folding down on the table and wrapping her arms fearfully around herself, and Paloma put an arm around Neve comfortingly.

Bagsy and Mezrielda shared a look.

'Why do you think they stopped it?' Bagsy whispered to Mezrielda when she thought no one was listening.

'It's obvious, isn't it?' Mezrielda asked. Bagsy shook her head. 'Clearly, the test aimed to find something, and succeeded. It's the only reason I can think of that Fitzsimmons would stop conducting it.'

'What do you think they found?' Bagsy asked.

Mezrielda looked at her with dull, bored eyes. 'Do I need to spell it out for you?'

'Please.'

Mezrielda sighed. 'Fitzsimmons found you. Or, I mean, us. You lasted their survival test longer than I, but I still did very well, of course.'

'Oh, of course.' Bagsy nodded seriously, not wanting to think about the implications of Fitzsimmons searching for something using their test, and that something being Bagsy herself.

This revelation and Mezrielda's healthy suspicious of Fitzsimmons made Bagsy hesitate when, having been held back at the end of one of the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, Fitzsimmons asked her if they could continue their private lessons from last year.

'With further study of that book I gifted you, Unseen Connections, and instruction from me, I can see progress as the inevitable outcome,' Fitzsimmons revealed. Bagsy shifted from one foot to the other. 'You don't seem keen.'

'I'd like to focus on my studies,' Bagsy lied. Too many strange things seemed to occur around Fitzsimmons, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little scared.

Fitzsimmons frowned momentarily, then nodded their head. 'Of course. Just ensure you're reading and trying to understand that book in your own time, then. Perhaps your best path to improvement lays outside of lessons.'

To console her guilty conscience, Bagsy told herself she'd only been half-lying. As per usual, she was doing awfully in any subject that required spell casting. Even Professor Hilkins, the soft-spoken, ancient Transfiguration teacher, had made a habit of snapping at Bagsy when she failed to even partially transfigure anything.

'Try harder, Beetlehorn,' Hilkins rasped voice hissed harshly in Bagsy's ear when she couldn't transform a beetle into a doorknob. It had reached the point where, just to avoid remedial transfiguration, Mezrielda had to tap her wand to Bagsy's items when Hilkins wasn't looking to make them sprout the odd bit of metal or string.

'Why can't you transfigure my stuff completely?' Bagsy asked Mezrielda in a hushed tone one lesson as they packed up their things. Mezrielda, about to repeat what Bagsy had said in a teasing voice, received a light elbow to the ribs. 'Don't mock me just answer,' Bagsy reprimanded her.

'It would be obvious I'd done the work for you if I transfigured it completely,' Mezrielda explained, which Bagsy accepted with a sigh.

If Transfiguration was a pain, then Charms was torture. Professor Starrett was as cruel as ever. One lesson, as they practised the slowing charm, Starrett paired Bagsy with Mezrielda for practise, much to their surprise. When Starrett announced that one person was to fall while the other was to slow their descent before hitting the stone floor, followed by the reveal that she just so happened to only have enough cushions for every pair but Bagsy and Mezrielda, it became clear to the two why Starrett had paired them.

They'd started with Bagsy falling, and every 'arresto momentum' Mezrielda had incanted had been perfect. Bagsy barely felt her falls – especially with her mane of thick brown hair that absorbed most of the force, anyway. After a while, though, there was little point to the exercise besides making Bagsy dizzy and Mezrielda bored. Instead, they'd taken the precious time they had free from Mistress Foncée's presence to discuss their plans, speaking in hushed whispers about the blood eyed beast.

'There's nothing in the library on the beast?' Bagsy checked.

'Indeed.'

'What do we do then?' Bagsy was keen to learn as much about the thing that had nearly killed her last year as she could, but if the library had nothing then she had no clue what to do next.

'We did get some leads from my book of beasts,' Mezrielda pointed out. 'I suggest we pursue the great decline of wizard kind in 1804. The book said the beast caused it, so descriptions of the great decline could include hints about the beast.'

Bagsy nodded her agreement. 'I could ask Professor Binns about it,' she suggested. Professor Binns was the History of Magic teacher. 'If anyone will know about it it's him.'

'Good idea,' Mezrielda hummed approvingly. 'Additionally,' she flipped her hair over her shoulder and folded her arms knowingly, 'the book of beasts mentioned the beast had four apostles. We could look for instances of four apostles and see if that brings any new information to light.'

'Why aren't you falling, Mezrielda? Too good for my lessons, are we?' Starrett asked as she click-clacked over to them.

Mezrielda, who already had detention for the whole term, looked like someone with nothing to lose. 'Because Bagsy can't cast the charm and you've failed to provide us with the appropriate safety cushions,' she snapped, gesturing at the hard floor behind her. Her disrespect had the rest of the class shushing each other and casting not-so-subtle glances in their direction.

Starrett held her wand in both hands, looking seconds away from snapping it in anger. 'So kind of you to volunteer for a demonstration.' Starrett spun to face the rest of the class. 'Watch on, students, for the most perfect slowing charm you will ever witness.' She turned back to them. Mezrielda smirked and confidently pulled her wand out of her robe. 'Oh, no,' Starrett tutted, snatching Mezrielda's wand from her grip, who frowned indignantly. 'No, Miss Beetlehorn will be casting the charm,' Starrett sneered nastily, taking a few paces back. 'I hope this will serve as sufficient motivation for her to finally cast a spell and end her charade as magical ineptitude.' She fixed blazing eyes on Bagsy, who shrunk down, trying to hide behind the collar of her shirt. 'You might be willing to play the hapless spellcaster when there's nothing on the line, Miss Beetlehorn, but I am your teacher and it is my job to help you progress. I implore you, stop this façade, prevent your friend from experiencing a painful tumble, and use the magic I know you have within you.'

Bagsy remained silent.

'Can we have a cushion?' Mezrielda requested.

Starrett pursed her lips. 'Don't keep the class waiting. Chop chop.'

Mezrielda shot Bagsy a concerned glance, who looked at her friend with wide eyes and shook her head. Getting it over with, Mezrielda held her arms out either side of herself and let herself fall.

'A-arresto momentum!' Bagsy fumbled. She'd never practised the spell before, and there was little hope it would work. When Bagsy heard a soft thud of Mezrielda impacting with the floor she startled and covered her face with her hands as giggles rose in the watching students

'Well, well,' Starrett muttered, harshly grasping Mezrielda's robe and hauling her to her feet. 'I prefer not having to intervene, but Miss Beetlehorn here is so insistent of continuing to refuse to partake in magic, that I had to soften the ground for her. What a shame.' Mezrielda tore herself out of Professor Starrett's grip angrily. 'Ten points from Hufflepuff ought to do the trick,' Starrett announced, shoving Mezrielda's wand at her chest for her to take back, before walking down to the other end of the classroom.

Mezrielda was sizzling with rage, snatching her wand back before storming out of the classroom. 'I don't know why she loathes you so,' Mezrielda ranted as they left, each word like the crack of a whip. 'I know I've spoken back to her plenty in lessons, but you've been nothing short of cowering to her. It's ridiculous! That woman is an evil hag, an evil hag I tell you!'

'Who's an evil hag?' Mistress Foncée asked, a hint of amusement flavouring her voice, as she joined the pair on their way to the great hall for lunch. Mezrielda's mouth hung open in silent surprise. Clearly, her fury had made her forget their chaperone. Foncée smiled a smile that plainly said she wanted to laugh. 'Forgive my unprofessionalism, but I find myself agreeing with you, Mezrielda, and I've actually met evil hags.'

Bagsy gaped at Foncée, impressed and not quite able to believe what she had said. Mezrielda folded her arms and ignored the cleaner as if she'd annoyed her by agreeing.

At the end of the next History of Magic lesson the Hufflepuffs trudged out, having been thoroughly bored by the wild-hibiscus coup of 1452, without realising that one of their number, Bagsy, was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as she waited to ask Professor Binns a question.

'Professor?' Bagsy began politely, the other students having already left.

Professor Binns looks at her in surprise, as if no student had ever voluntarily spoken to him outside of class. 'Yes?'

'Do you know what the great decline of wizard kind of 1804 was caused by?' Bagsy asked. Binns frowned his ghostly face. Bagsy still found being taught by a ghost frightful. If Professor Binns were any less boring, History of Magic would be a terrifying class.

'There is no such thing,' Binns dismissed Bagsy, looking down at some paper work on his desk.

Bagsy felt like a cold wave swept over her she was so shocked. 'It doesn't exist?'

'No. There was no great decline of wizard kind and if there were, I'd know about it. I doubt I'd forget something like that. Now, leave me be.'

'But…' Bagsy trailed off, she didn't know what to say. 'Have you heard about the beast's apostles, then?'

Binns sighed and looked tiredly at Bagsy. 'No. I haven't. Can you leave me in peace, now?'

Bagsy left feeling more confused than she had before she'd asked him any questions. How had Professor Binns, who could drone for hours at a time about any and all wizarding history, not have heard about the great decline of wizard kind or the beast's apostles? The only conclusion Bagsy could think of was that the book of beasts had been wrong – and there had been no great decline, or any apostles, at all. Feeling foolish, she briefly wished that she hadn't asked Professor Binns at all.

With a start, Bagsy realised she could achieve such an effect easily, and quickly walked to the lunch hall. Spotting Tod Alden, she rushed over to him and explained her request.

'You want me to make Professor Binns forget you asked him some questions?' Tod checked. Bagsy nodded. 'You do realise what a waste of my time that would be?'

That gave Bagsy pause, who cringed as she realised the ridiculousness of her own request. 'I guess it would be.'

Tod looked around to see if anyone was listening to them. 'Look, Bagsy, the truth is… I can't use my ability right now, even if I want to.' Bagsy's eyes widened. 'Ever since… ever since Vespite Cliff it hasn't been working. I lost it for months after the run-in with that creature-'

'-the blood eyed beast,' Bagsy corrected him.

'It only returned at the start of this term and after using it to get Mezrielda back it went away again.' Tod looked crushed as he explained this and Bagsy felt as if she'd kicked a puppy.

'I'm really sorry, Tod,' Bagsy murmured.

'My point is,' Tod breezed on as if everything was fine, 'don't ask me to use my powers again.' He turned away from Bagsy and went back to his lunch. Clearly, the conversation was over.

It seemed to Bagsy as if lots of things were going wrong. Any lesson that had Bagsy casting spells, her friendship with Greenda, the research on the blood eyed beast and now Tod's seeming anger with her all dragged at Bagsy's feet as she walked around the castle, shadowed by Mistress Foncée. But a few things were, as usual, breathing light into Bagsy's life.

Potions was a delight. Blythurst let the class loose with only minimal instructions and assistance, and whilst the other students hated this, Bagsy was a blur of happy action in every lesson. Her potions almost always came out perfect and Bagsy, remembering what she'd read last year, dreamily speculated what ingredients of a potion were its foundation, additives and bindings. She felt she was getting better at understanding the components of potions – foundations were typically the largest ingredient added and the core factor deciding what the potion did. The bindings were becoming increasingly easy to understand with each potion she brewed. She could see certain ingredients, like standard ingredient, which was simply a mixture of dried herbs, always made other ingredients merge together when added, whilst others needed further stirring or ingredients to truly mix with everything else.

Those who positioned themselves around Bagsy either asked for advice or copied her every move. She soon found there was a wave effect where, when she grabbed certain ingredients or stirred a potion, those immediately around her would do the same, and then those immediately around them would copy, as well. When she added yew bark and her potion let out the expected puff of jade fire, there was a wave of other mini explosions as the other students did the same. Bagsy couldn't help feeling a little flattered, even if she hated the idea that the whole class was relying on her to take the right steps.

Astronomy was decent, as it always had been, and Professor Jones had, once again, let Bagsy off Astronomy homework so long as her grades remained steady. Herbology, in second year, split into two kinds of lessons. They had theoretical Herbology on a Tuesdays, and double practical Herbology after lunch on Fridays. The project for the second years was the care of a field's worth of trees, as opposed to last year that had them caring for one living stampelia.

Professor Wattlseed, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, handed out overalls for the students as they walked to the grove one morning. Each pair had been given a plot of five or six trees to care for. The trees they were caring for were called popples, and were twice Bagsy's height at their shortest, and twice Teresa's at their highest. Their smooth pale bark, with black scars, grew large, red bubbles that needed to be regularly popped.

'The popple bat used to eat the bubbles along the side, see?' Wattleseed explained, puncturing one of the bubbles and letting red and orange gloopy liquid ooze out into a bucket. 'But after the accidental introduction of the blood-red squirrel the popple bats were hunted to extinction. So sad.' Wattleseed shook his head in disappointment. 'Oh well. That's nature sometimes, eh? Anyway, as I was saying, because there are no more popple bats the popple trees have no one to pop their bubbles and spread their goop. In other words, they'd die without our help.'

Bagsy had found Teresa to be a far better partner than Winifred had been the year before. Teresa, like Bagsy, was a hard worker and together they blazed through the red bubbles sprouting on their plot of trees, smearing the goop with the correct mixture of faux bat fur and fertilizer on the surrounding soil to encourage new growth. According to Wattleseed, the roots of the popple trees were all connected, so the entire grove was really just one, big, sprawling tree. As such, new trees had to be encouraged to grow close to the already existing ones.

'We've been growing this set of popples for nearly half a decade, now,' Wattleseed explained. 'This, and the ancient whomping willow we have, make Hogwarts a haven for rare trees, if you ask me.'

It was Bagsy and Teresa's patch that had new, baby popples growing first, of course. With an exuberant high five Teresa and Bagsy beamed down at the new shoots. Teresa had already come up with names for them all.

'Ten points each,' Wattleseed awarded them.

'Yes!' Teresa fist pumped the air. Bagsy smiled happily but her smile faltered when she saw Neve and Winifred struggling one patch over. The popple trees in their patch looked ready to die, and no new ones had sprouted. Bagsy glanced at Teresa guiltily, feeling as though she'd stolen Neve's partner from her, and adding that worry to her growing list of troubles.

There really seemed to be no end to troubling situations when it came to Bagsy's life.