Beneath the blackened shell of a tree trunk, in the dust of the late Dry Season, upon the high hills overlooking the castle of many towers, sat a young witch named Sparrow Jones.

She had never actually seen a sparrow, nor indeed had she seen many birds, outside of old muggle books. Perhaps her mother had simply been trying to evoke something she had remembered from way back when. As it was, Sparrow sometimes wondered if "Starling" wouldn't fit better. That was a bird closer to her skin color anyway, and Mother always said she could see the stars reflected in Sparrow's eyes, no matter where or when. But, Sparrow she was and would be. And she tried to sing so prettily of what could be.

Some of the students called her the African Swallow, which always confused her. Something to do with always bringing her gifts to her fellow students. But what she brought them she called a necessity, considering their behavior. Not a gift.

And in an era of sunlight and windblown dust, when the Hogwarts Lake shrank to the Hogwarts Pond every April, she could hardly ignore anyone's safety. She had ignored the safety of her people once; she would never do so again.

Fortunately or unfortunately, one of them was not ignoring her. From this vantage point Sparrow could observe the walkway between the Astronomy Tower and the Dragon Tower. Someone was there, climbing onto a broom and kicking off.

Most people would have been nearly invisible at this distance, hidden as they were by the haze of dust and the height of the battlements – but there was something about Jillian Patil that was always visible at a far greater distance than most, and it was not merely her height.

Which was, to be fair, considerable. Despite the fact that Sparrow and Jill were both fourth-years, Jill had already grown taller than Sparrow, and taller than some of the teachers, at that. As for her physical presence, well, that was also visible from a great distance. In her second year she had been able to hang on to a bludger without letting it go; last year she had been able to hold one in each arm; last week she had gotten the number up to three. Sometimes the Hufflepuff quidditch captain called her Jill Of the Mighty Shoulders.

But there was something about her that was clear and present even if she had been as short and slight as Sparrow. A certain clarity, where everyone else was hazy. A certain brightness, where everyone else was dim.

Well. Not everyone. Cormac McKinnon was easy to spot at a distance, but that was because he had the reddest hair and the palest skin in the school. Then again…he was visible from a ways off too. Not as far as Jill, of course, he wasn't much taller than Sparrow, and Sparrow was the sort of person who needed a broomstick to be able to see above a crowd. And he didn't have Jill's eyes. Jill's eyes always looked like she was holding back three bludgers and was ready to let them go if you said one more word. The episode last year where everyone had called her "Himalaya" for being an Indian mountain had lasted about one week before everyone who said it to her face had withered under her furious glare.

But she never directed that gaze at Sparrow. Not even now.

Jill's feet kicked up dust as she skidded to a halt a little ways down the slope.

"Sparrow," said Jill, "what in Potter's name are you doing out here? How did you even get here without a broom?"

"Go away," said Sparrow. "I am dumb and I'm bad at transfiguration and that was probably the worst bit of transfiguration anyone has ever seen."

"And that was hours ago," said Jill. "Did you just…fly here and sit for hours?"

Sparrow shook her head.

"You clambered up all these rocks just to sit here and brood under a bunch of dead trees?"

"It's not just a bunch of dead trees," said Sparrow. "It's a graveyard. A graveyard for something besides people."

Jill rolled her eyes. "Not that subject again. I keep telling you to drop it or it's going to burn your hands."

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to come out here and hear me talk about it."

"Yes I did." Jill stepped up the slope and sat down next to Sparrow. "I had to come out here and fetch you, at any rate. Before you missed too many more classes."

"What," said Sparrow, "am I on thin ice?"

"Thin what now?"

"Come on, Jill. You've seen ice cubes."

"Yeah but…those are cubes. How can ice be thin? How would you be on it?"

"It's an old muggle expression," said Sparrow. "December used to mean winter, and winter meant lakes freezing over, and…people could walk on it. Somehow. I don't know exactly. But sometimes the ice was too thin and they would fall through."

"Fine. You're on thin ice and I came out to get you before you fell through."

"Oh, you're always taking care of me."

"Gladly! And you're always taking care of me. Sometimes more than I deserve. Although I would not say that I or anyone deserved a blast-ended skrewt. How on earth did you know what those look like?"

"I didn't."

"Professor Budge would say that's some highly skilled transfiguration, then. To transfigure something you've never seen before."

"Are you trying to spin-doctor my fiasco?"

"If it gets you back to the castle faster? Yes. Come on, Sparrow. You're farther out than you've ever been here. I think we might even be off the grounds."

"What, are you my prison warden or something?"

"Jail for Sparrow," said Jill, as she put an arm over Sparrow's shoulders.

"Oh no!" Sparrow squealed. "I have been captured! By a strong and handsome witch!"

"Ho ho ho," said Jill, as she dragged Sparrow into her lap and wrapped her arms around her. "Jail for Sparrow for a thousand years. Mwa ha ha ha."

"I don't mind being stuck in your lap that long," said Sparrow. "Although you might get bored."

"Maybe."

"But I might have been out here for a few more hours if you hadn't come to fetch me."

"Oh?"

"It took me a few hours to get up these rocks, the sun is high and bright…I forgot to bring a sun shade and I can't exactly transfigure anything into a parasol, so I'm risking sunburn on the way back."

"Seriously? Sparrow, the sun could never burn you."

"Yeah, I bet that's what people say about you. But you get burned when you're out on the quidditch pitch for more than a few hours, and I do if I'm wandering under the sun too long. So."

"Is that the real reason?" said Jill.

"No."

"You're scared of climbing back down the rocks."

"Yep."

"Waiting for me you carry you back on the broom?"

"Maybe."

"Despite the fact that you couldn't get a broom to bring you out here?"

"Well maybe I can hang on to your ankles."

"You with your wimpy little noodle arms? Maybe, maybe not. We'll have to figure something out here."

Sparrow glanced at the slope. "Actually…I have an idea." She leapt up from Jill's lap, pointed her wand at her feet and said, "Protego!"

"What are you – Sparrow, wait – "

But it was too late. Sparrow was already lit up with a yellow glow from below. She had created a translucent saucer-shaped shield beneath her feet, and now she had pushed off from the tree.

She only realized too late that she did not entirely know what she was doing. She had seen plumes of dirt running down the hills as she passed by them on the Hogwarts Express, and had heard from the other muggleborn children that those were muggles going Dirt Surfing; she had listened to the basic description and wondered if she might have an opportunity. But here, today, was the first opportunity she had, which meant that she had no idea what to expect.

What she got was a much rougher ride than she expected, because, as it turned out, her shield was not a very good shock absorber when she was standing directly on it. It was very good for skimming over the dust and the pebbles and the rocks but that was mostly because it was distributing the impact across its entire face, which was very good because the pebbles were occasionally boulders. Still, by the time she got about a quarter of the way down her legs were already shaking. She had not thought to fix her feet to the shield.

"God Dammit Sparrow," shouted Jill behind her. Jill was on the broom and trying to catch up. "There are times when you make it even more difficult to keep you safe!"

"Pick me up any time you want!" shouted Sparrow.

Which was hopefully soon because there was a rather large boulder lying ahead. Sparrow desperately tried to alter her course, and discovered that, as her shield was perfectly circular, there was very little she could do to influence its direction. She could either fall off the shield and scrape herself very badly, or run smack into something that would not get out of her way.

The boulder drew closer. Jill had not yet caught up to Sparrow yet. Sparrow was close to slamming into solid rock when she heard Jill's roar, and then there was the impact – not from the front but from behind, as she felt herself swept up by a beefy arm. Her legs missed the boulder by a few centimeters as she was borne into the sky, dangling from a grip that held her tight.

Unfortunately this lasted about as long as it took to clear the boulder, for the broom suddenly pitched downwards. Sparrow cast her shield once more, and suddenly there were two witches skidding down the rocky slope, juddering and shuddering all the way to the bottom.

The shield vanished, dumping Sparrow and Jill into the dirt.

Sparrow looked up the slope. There was a cloud of dust in a line from the dead trees to where they lay.

"What the heck happened to your broomstick skills?" said Sparrow.

"They work better when I'm on a broomstick that actually works," said Jill. She picked herself up out of the dirt and dusted herself off. Then she picked Sparrow up out of the dirt and dusted her off. "This thing, what is this, a Cleansweep Seven? Barely keeps me in the air. The Nimbus Plus Ultra is fit to carry my weight. But it is currently being repaired because someone put a Wobbling Jinx on it."

"Bet I know who."

"Oh, don't even go there. She wouldn't dare."

"Yes she would! She jinxed my school robes last week to smell like a fresh fart!"

"She wouldn't dare do something like that to me. To undermine her primary dueling partner, in an underhanded manner – "

"You keep saying she's a fiendish opponent."

"On the field of battle. I do not like to think she would turn our rivalry there into enmity beyond it. I like to think she has her honor as I have mine."

"A Slytherin with honor," said Sparrow. "Sure. Right. The prankster queen of the school has honor. Pull the other one, why don't you?"

"Never mind," said Jill. "We have to get back to the castle on the double before we get caught."

And so Sparrow found herself sitting in front of Jill on the ancient Cleansweep Seven, holding onto the broom handle for dear life in case the thing tried to buck her off, which was less likely with Jill's arms pinning her in place. The broom could not lift the two much more than a centimeter above the dirt, nor could it go fast, but at least it could go. And it only wobbled now and then.

"You know," said Sparrow as they flew beside the lakebed, "I feel like this broom is just being disobedient."

"How do you figure?"

"It brought you to me without a hitch, and now that I'm sitting on the broom it's acting like it's under a crushing load? I probably weigh a twentieth of what you do."

"Maybe you're the straw that broke the camel's back," said Jill. "Maybe it's an elderly broom and we've made it do too much work. Be gentle with the broom, dear Sparrow. It has lived for so long."

"Right," said Sparrow. "Wonder why the school never replaced them?"

"Same reason we have a scholarship fund for students who can't afford wands," said a stern voice in front of them. "Wood can be conjured as easily as food, but magical wood cannot, and it is far more difficult to come by these days."

There before them stood Minverva McGonagall.

An old woman she was, wrinkled of face and white of hair. But there are other markers of age, and the Headmistress wore, as she always wore, the kind of expression that made one wonder if she had ever been young. Some old people that Sparrow had met acted like they had been young, but the Headmistress never did.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Might I ask you what exactly you were doing to raise a plume of dust high enough for muggles to see it from afar, and how you got up there?"

"It's my fault," said Jill, "I thought we might go out and have some fun."

"Miss Patil, I do not need to have any talent with legilimency to know when a student is lying to me. If you wish to lie to me I recommend that you be significantly more clever about it. Sparrow, what exactly were you doing up there?"

"I was…can we talk about it in your office?"

"I was just about to suggest such a thing."

…

The office of the headmistress occupied the entire floor space of the upper part of a tower. Which tower, Sparrow never knew. They tended to shuffle around. Today the view out the tall window was of the mountains.

The office consisted of many, many bookcases, and not for browsing, it seemed, for they were all behind glass. And there were portraits, many portraits. Pictures of the headmasters of the school. Sparrow wondered if they went all the way back to the beginning.

It also had a low table in front of a fireplace, with chairs and settees sitting around it.

"So that's it then," said the Headmistress, as she set her tea down. "Despite your low level of skill with Transfiguration, you would remake the world in your own image."

Sparrow shook her head. "That would be rude. I just…want to bring the trees back, that's all. Or at least let the grounds here look a little nicer! That would be the smallest thing but – "

"But it would also tip off muggles to the fact that something odd was going on around here," said Jill, "and they would investigate."

Sparrow's observations from the window of the Hogwarts Express never showed a human habitation within forty miles of this place. But then, she had seen an aeroplane in the sky yesterday. She sipped her tea and said nothing.

"I understand your desire to heal all the wounds of the world," said McGonagall. "You are how old, fifteen?"

"Fourteen," said Sparrow.

"Ah. Well. Still at that age when you are full of fire. And with a wand in your hand, why you could do as you please and never mind the consequences! You could make all the world bow before you, in the name of justice!"

"You are alluding to Gellert Grindelwald?"

"No," said McGonagall. "I had forgotten that fellow."

"Tempting," said Jill. "To bestride the world and dispense justice with a wave of one's hand. I have to hold myself back from doing such things here."

"As I recall," said McGonagall, "you spent half of your first year getting into trouble for that business."

"Just as I said. Hard to help people who do not want help."

"Precisely," said McGonagall. She sipped her tea.

"But, Headmistress, if we don't at least try to help then – what happens to muggles?"

"They struggle," said McGonagall, "and they survive. Hopefully until the world heals itself."

"And…does that include my family?"

McGonagall looked taken aback by this question.

She set her tea down. "My apologies, Sparrow. I…had forgotten that you are a muggleborn. Your shield displays enough magical power that – "

"What exactly does that have to do with it?" said Jill.

McGonagall shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing at all, really. Just old habits of thought. As to answer your question…I can hardly expect you to avoid saving your own family."

"Not just my family," said Sparrow. "My street. My neighborhood. My city. My island. My planet. I'm not interested in drawing limits around who I help, Headmistress. I have…shall we say, very personal motivations here, I will admit that. But they lead me towards refusing to be picky about who I defend. Even if that be muggles."

"And in so doing, you would wreck the Statute of Secrecy."

"Fuck the Statute of Secrecy."

For a moment, the room was filled with a chilly silence, despite the heat of the day.

Sparrow was frozen in place, having realized what she had said, and where she had said it, as soon as the words had left her lips.

Jill was the first to break the ice. "Yes," she said, "I have been getting the sense that you had that opinion, over the past four years."

"As have I," said McGonagall. She fixed Sparrow with a steely glare. "And I should remind you, Miss Jones, that you are already on thin ice. Do not stamp your feet when you are standing in such a place."

Sparrow's posture deflated slightly. "Sorry, Headmistress. And, um. I'm sorry for skipping classes and stepping off the school grounds and nearly getting myself injured."

"Very good," said McGonagall. "I will accept your apology. For that, I will only dock you two hundred points from Hufflepuff – "

Jill winced.

" – and assign you detention with Professor Budge for a week instead of a month."

"Thank you," said Sparrow.

"Though I will recommend that you –"

"I will apologize to every professor whose class I skipped."

"I was going to say, apologize to Professor Wimble for upending his Transfiguration class."

"She said sorry as she was running out of the room," said Jill.

"A full apology," said McGonagall.

Sparrow snorted. "Professor Wimble is – "

"Someone I hired. If you wish to cast aspersions on him, you cast aspersions on me."

Sparrow winced.

"And do not be so ashamed of your skill level," said McGonagall. "This is a school, and you are here to learn. You are young enough that you have plenty of time. Do not worry about being behind everyone else as long as you are doing the work to learn. Do you understand?"

"I think so. It's just…hard to believe sometimes. Sometimes I think I'll never get anything at all. And then I can't help anyone. That's why I went up the hill. I wanted to apologize to the dead trees for failing them."

"Ah well," said McGonagall. "When we apologize to the dead, we are mostly apologizing to ourselves. As for your ambitions, I understand your motivations, and I agree with them, to a certain degree. But your proposed methods are…not even half-baked yet. You have not even put your ingredients together. You are of an age when you have mighty desires and few solid ideas of how to achieve them."

"Are you telling me to grow up?"

"No. I am saying that, if you would achieve this towering ambition of yours, you must begin by heeding this warning: you cannot change anyone's life for them. If you remake the world without so much as a by-your-leave, you will cause immeasurable suffering, regardless of your intentions. There have been many, Wizards and muggles alike, who took the road you would take, and only taught the world that they should have left well enough alone. Do you understand?"

Sparrow nodded.

"Then, our business is finished. Run along to your next class."

Sparrow left the office with her head held a little higher than when she entered.

…

"Two hundred house points lost in the first two weeks of term," said Jill. "I think you're going to catch a lot of heat for that one."

"Well don't go shouting that it was my fault," said Sparrow. She spotted a gaggle of first-years looking decidedly confused. And she had an idea as to why. "What ho?" she said, as she approached them. "A company of young squires, lost in the labyrinth, without any Castle Maps? Perhaps I can assist you."

The first-years looked slightly wary of Sparrow, and terrified of something behind Sparrow. Ah, well. Jill had that effect on the wee little ones. "If I might be able to assist you – "

"Are you going to cast a shield at us?" said one of the first-years.

"No?" Sparrow frowned. "Why would I?"

"Someone was saying you cast a shield at a lot of people for no reason."

"Oh!" Sparrow laughed. "They fail to understand. I am simply trying to make sure nobody injures anyone else. Now, how did you all manage to lose your Castle Maps?"

"We didn't," said one of the first-years. "But we were told that the layout only changes at midnight, so we thought the Big Map on the ground floor would be enough to get us to the Transfiguration classroom, but it sent us in the wrong direction and – "

"Have you checked your personal Castle Maps yet?"

All of the first-years shook their heads.

Sparrow raised her eyebrows as if in invitation.

One of the first-years took their map out of their pocket, unfolded it, and scanned it for a moment. Then they said, "That's it. The Big Map has this corridor running northwest instead of northeast."

"Someone tampered with the Big Map," said Jill. "Just to misdirect the first-years."

"I bet I know who," said Sparrow.

"Yes," said Jill, "this time I do believe it is her." She turned to the first-years. "Well, my fine feathered friends, I believe you must trust the map that has been on you this whole time…what, do I really look that scary right now?"

The first-years were not-so-subtly backing away. "Yyyyyyyno?" said one of them. "Fine. You look fine. Very pretty. Excuse us." They all hurried down the corridor.

Jill could not make herself as short as Sparrow without the aid of some clever magic, but she could shrink a bit as her posture deflated.

Sparrow put a hand on her arm. "Want a word of comfort?"

"Sure."

"There's only so much you can do to avoid that situation."

"Forgive me if I am not reassured by that idea."

"I mean, you do what you can, and don't try to squash yourself into a space made for someone else. Alright? You take up space. That's how it is."

"What if I use a shrinking charm?"

"I think you would be tempted to shrink yourself so much that you vanish," said Sparrow. "I'd rather you be big strong Jill than a meek little thing. Being little is my job. And I like the size of your arms anyway. They are good for hugs."

"My arms and the rest of me," said Jill. "Are you asking for a Jill Hug?"

Sparrow nodded.

Jill picked up Sparrow and wrapped her in her arms. It was always a surprise to Sparrow that Jill managed to avoid squeezing all the air out of her lungs, but maybe Jill really did have a level of self-control that Sparrow could not match.

They set off down the stairs for the charms lesson, arm in arm.

…

That evening, Sparrow had her first round of detention with Professor Budge.

It was a short one, as detentions go, especially since the first thing she did upon entering the room was apologize profusely for missing the day's lesson. Budge had said he was surprised to receive an apology instead of surly grumbling, but Sparrow knew this was a polite lie; she had been a favorite student of his for years enough that he knew how she operated. Perhaps this was why her detention that evening was merely to scourgify some of the more sticky messes that the day's classes had left, which, while it was a bit of an effort, was hardly drudgery.

"I do have one more question for you," said the Professor, as Sparrow was about to leave the classroom.

She turned. "Yes?"

"You have, as I recall from your marks, managed to master nearly every defensive spell I have taught you thus far, in far less time than I would expect."

"Yes? I want to protect whoever I can."

"And you never actually cast an offensive spell."

"Yes? I refuse to harm anyone at this school. Or anywhere."

"What if you have to?"

"I am afraid that is non-negotiable," said Sparrow. She turned to leave the classroom.

"Wait just a moment, Sparrow!"

She turned again. "What?"

"You would hold so fast to your principles that you demand even reality bend to them. That is…perfectly characteristic, I suppose. And well in keeping with anyone your age. But not exactly realistic."

"We are Wizards," said Sparrow. "We are in the business of making reality step out of our way."

"Physical reality," said Professor Budge, "but not social reality, or…political reality. If you are in a position where you need to save someone – "

"Then I do what I can without hurting anyone."

"That is just what I was trying to ask you about," said Budge. "Why is it that in the in-class sparring sessions, you favor the shield to the exclusion of all other defensive spells?"

"Personal," said Sparrow. "Long story, never mind."

"Can you work on the other defensive spells?" said Budge. "Just to make sure that you're not rusty. Ah ha, there's an idea. Let's have your detention be basic remedial work with the defensive spells I have taught you."

"That's, um…less tedious than what I expected."

"Well what else could I have you do that I couldn't do? Polish the school trophies? Write lines? I keep telling McGonagall that the whole business of detention is archaic, but she doesn't listen. Anyway, meet me here tomorrow evening at the same time and we will get started."

Sparrow saluted, and left.

…

The next morning was the class that Sparrow had been dreading. Transfiguration. This would have to be a bigger apology than last evening's.

But as she and Jill made their way along the fifth-floor corridor, she was distracted by a bag of flour that emptied above her head.

Not that it actually reached anyone's head, of course. The shield that had caused Sparrow so much trouble yesterday had saved her today.

"I bet I know who did that one," said Jill.

"Do you really," said a familiar voice. And from behind a pillar stepped Jocasta Carrow.

Sparrow always wondered how the girl managed to sneak up on her like that. She was Visible in the same way Jill was. Clear from a great distance, not giving off light yet oddly illuminated. Not nearly as tall as Jill, but taller than Sparrow, enough that she could be seen over the crowd, just slightly – and her raven hair framing a pale face, falling in wavy ringlets down to the small of her back, certainly aided that visibility. There were many times when Sparrow could look through a crowd of students, see a face with deep dark eyes searching hers, and know precisely who those eyes belonged to.

So how on earth was it that this girl was able to sneak up on her? Perhaps she was not very good at paying attention.

"You," said Sparrow.

"Me," said Jocasta.

"Where did you get a bag of flour anyway?"

"I didn't," said Jocasta. "Nice shield charm, though. You're always quick on the draw. I've had to get more creative because of you. It's no fun tossing stuff at people anymore."

"I might say you've forced me to become quicker on the draw over the years," said Sparrow. "But the truth is, everyone has. I have to break up childish quarrels all the time around here." She glanced right and saw a couple of students nearby, engaged in a battle of poking each other. She flicked her wand to gently deposit the bowl on the ground, then flicked her wand at the students to raise a translucent glowing disk between them. They looked around, spotted Sparrow, and glowered at her.

"Ah yes," said Jocasta. "Always foiling me and everyone. Well. If I'm not the only one who causes you trouble then how do you know this one was my doing?"

Jill shifted a bit closer to Sparrow. "It's always you," she said. "Nobody comes up with pranks quite the way you do."

"Oh, is that a compliment?" said Jocasta. "That's odd. You have never complimented me once over the past three years. What's got into you now?"

Sparrow glanced at Jill, whose face looked a bit flushed.

Jill shook her head. "I don't know what you're – "

"Are you trying to flirt with me?"

Jill crossed her arms and stood a bit more straight. "Fie upon thee, my archrival! I shall vanquish thee in the dueling club tonight!"

"Archrival? Now that is definitely a compliment."

"Never mind!" Jill departed through the classroom door.

Sparrow and Jocasta watched her go. "What a pity," said Jocasta. "I enjoyed the flattery. Alas, this was not my idea. I think this one was a bit…pedestrian."

"My fault," said another familiar voice. And Cormac McKinnon appeared out of thin air.

"Nice chameleon charm Kinney," said Jocasta.

"I do not take compliments from you," said Cormac. "You...dark prankster Wizard, you."

Cormac McKinnon was Visible from a long ways off. Pale, with bright hair, a stout lad neither handsome like Jill nor pretty like Jocasta, and yet – something about him made him stand out in Sparrow's eyes. That he was a friend, well, that certainly helped, one always noticed friends amidst the throng of strangers – but Jocasta was not a friend. So what exactly was going on?

And then there was his accent, which Sparrow could not place, try as she might. That was not a matter of visibility, but it was a sign that he was coming around the corner. And there was his smile, which could light up a room. That might have done it. But Jill did not have that kind of smile. So whatever Jill and Cormac and Jocasta shared, it was not something outward.

"My apologies," said Cormac. "I was waiting here hoping to get Jocasta, and…you tripped the trigger instead. I guess I should have thought of a different method."

"Is that so?" said a voice from the classroom door. The door had been transfigured to look like a human face, and it spoke. "Mister McKinnon, pranking people. Ten points from Hufflepuff."

"Tsk tsk," said Jocasta. "Never admit fault when you prank someone, Kinney old bean. You've much to learn. I could teach you."

"I am done with pranks," said Cormac.

Jocasta pouted. "Already?"

"I have no wish to go any further down a dark road."

"Oh, very well. I shall reign without challenge then. On a different note, tell me – why exactly do you call yourself McKinnon? I thought they were all killed in the Voldemort War?"

"I do not like what you are implying," said Cormac, "and I will only say that the matter is personal." He dashed into the classroom before Jocasta could utter another word.

…

Sparrow's entrance into the Transfiguration classroom was met with some cold stares and quiet giggles from the students. Her apology to Professor Wimble was met with an equally cold reply that he had seen worse, though not very often.

So Sparrow had sat herself down between the room's only two sources of warmth, which were Cormac and Jill.

"Why don't you explain yourself," she muttered.

"What's to explain?" said Cormac. "Carrow never apologizes for her stunts, so I figured I'd get back at her. That's all."

"I think Sparrow is just worried," said Jill. "Revenge is definitely not something I'd expect from you."

"No no," said Sparrow, "I mean the bag of flour. Why pick something a muggle would do?"

"Because I like muggle stuff?" said Cormac.

"Oh right," said Jill. "You and your ukulele."

"Not what I mean," said Cormac. "I like the idea of doing things without magic. You ever thought about that? Doing stuff without waving a wand?"

"I write homework with my own hands," said Sparrow. "Does that count? I walk up stairs instead of flying."

"No," said Cormac, "I mean like, washing dishes, digging holes, tying shoelaces. That sort of thing."

"Oh," said Sparrow. "Well. Speaking as a muggleborn, you can imagine that I would want to take full advantage of my wand during the school year."

"Fair point," said Cormac. "As for me, well…I'd call it a matter of hometown pride."

"Where are you from?" said Jill.

"Well if you really want to know, I'm – "

"Attention!" said Professor Wimble. "Today we will be learning about Animagi."

Oh, wonderful. An all-lecture lesson again. This was an opportunity for Sparrow's mind to wander. It wandered to McGonagall's office, and to McGonagall herself. Apparently she had been the transfiguration teacher, back before the Second Wizarding War, back when Dimbledore ran the school. Perhaps if she had still been, Sparrow would have learned how to transfigure something, under the stern but patient gaze of a legendary professor. But Professor Wimble had the students listen far more often than he had them practice.

As the professor droned on and on about the legal details of animagi and the registration process, Sparrow thought about what the Headmistress had said. She had said that you couldn't change someone's life for them. But that wasn't literally true, was it? Especially with magic involved. Why, there was a muggle story about a fairy clad in blue who changed a poor washer-girl's outfit into a beautiful gown, and let her go to the Ball, and she lived happily ever after! Muggles always used the term "fairy godmother" when they were talking about someone being granted magic wishes out of the blue. Why couldn't Wizards be fairy godmothers? Maybe, once upon a time, they had been.

Something the professor was saying finally caught her attention.

"The legal penalties for failing to register as an animagi are severe," said Wimble. "The Ministry of Magic will levy a fine of not less than twenty thousand galleons, or impose a year in Azkaban, depending on the financial status of the perpetrator."

"The legal penalties for failing to register as an animagi are severe," said Wimble. "The Ministry of Magic will levy a fine of not less than twenty thousand galleons, or impose a year in Azkaban, depending on the financial status of the perpetrator."

The entire class shivered.

Sparrow raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Jones?"

"I still don't understand. Why is it necessary to register?"

Professor Wimble raised an eyebrow. "I just told you."

"But – "

"Miss Jones, after your incident yesterday, I should think you would want to avoid overstepping any boundaries when it comes to this subject. But you persist! You are a bold one. Perhaps you should have been in Gryffindor."

"She's proposing to break the law," said Cormac. "That sounds more like Slytherin."

"But she wants to know why something is the way it is," said Jill. "That sounds like Ravenclaw."

Sparrow felt her face grow hot.

"Be that as it may," said Professor Wimble, "we must return to the lesson." And he droned on and on, leaving Sparrow wondering, now, about the Ministry of Magic itself, and how harsh it could be. She'd done magic over the summer and almost had her wand taken from her. The folks who had appeared at her door had not been very nice at all. They had used a memory charm on her entire neighborhood and then magically bound her arms to a chair and yelled at her for an hour.

Just for using a charm to make a tree grow. They'd cut the tree down too.

Sparrow couldn't understand why anyone would want to work for such people. But, maybe they liked the taste of power.

Just like she did.

That was something to think about.

…

The Hufflepuff table did not have any cupcakes that night.

"So why ARE you in Hufflepuff?" said Cormac, through a mouthful of shepherd's pie. "The way you talk about big things and intervene in things, I'd say you're as bold as a Gryffindor is supposed to be."

"We're both fourth years," said Sparrow. "There's still a few years for you to find someone bolder than me."

"I don't think there is," said Cormac. "I think if anyone was more daring they would have run afoul of the Ministry already. You're right on the edge, you know. People talk about you. They wonder why you haven't done anything stupid enough to get expelled yet."

"Because I wish to learn," said Sparrow. "I want to learn everything."

"Sounds more like a Ravenclaw to me," said Jill beside her. Jill had cleared her plate but had not left the table.

"Perhaps we all need a little Ravenclaw in us," said Sparrow, "if we want to pass our exams."

"You didn't answer my question," said Cormac. He banged his fork on the table. "Hufflepuff. Why did the hat pick you for Hufflepuff?"

"It didn't," said Sparrow. "I did."

"Just like Harry Potter," said Cormac. "So why didn't you pick Gryffindor? That's the grand old house of brave people. Right?"

"Are you saying Hufflepuff doesn't have brave people?"

"Well I'm not saying that, but – "

"Do you think Hufflepuff was a bad choice?"

"I just think it's the least fitting of all your possibilities. So why bother?"

"Long story," said Sparrow. "Maybe I'll explain later." She leaned upon Jill. "What about you, my dear? You're a Patil. Most of them go into Gryffindor. Why'd you pick Hufflepuff?"

"Think of it this way," said Jill. "Everyone knows what to expect of a Gryffindor. Everyone knows what to expect of a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin. But Hufflepuffs can do what they like, because everyone underestimates them."

"Ooh," said Cormac. "Sounds Slytheriny to me."

"No doubt," said Jocasta, appearing beside Cormac.

He jumped, scattering bits of potato. At the same time Sparrow was jostled as Jill stiffened and sat up straighter.

"Oh hello," growled Sparrow. "Where did you come from?"

"Perhaps from nowhere," said Jocasta, giving Sparrow an innocent smile. "Perhaps from the very air itself. Anyway, Jill. I bet I know why you went into Hufflepuff."

"Oh?"

"You were trying to follow Sparrow."

Cormac made that "OOO" sound with the rising tone, the sound that children make when they collectively stumble upon a guilty secret.

"I don't see how that's supposed to be embarrassing," said Sparrow.

Jill glanced at Sparrow, and said, "Of course you don't."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Excuse me, I need to clear my head for a little while."

Sparrow was left to lean on nothing as Jill departed the table and the hall in haste.