The New Amsterdam Wizardrail Station was immense. The Goblin Market in Chicago was the largest wizarding community Alexandra had ever seen, and she thought New Roanoke was a pretty sizable town, as wizarding towns went, but when she got off the train in New Amsterdam, there were more witches and wizards than she had ever seen in one place.
This was, she quickly realized, an illusion in more ways than one. The throng was not made up exclusively of magical folk.
There were scores of witches and wizards from all over the Confederation. Old Colonials, wearing more ruffles and lace than Alexandra had seen in either Chicago or New Roanoke, and New Colonials with robes in colors that ranged from traditional staid solids to neon hues. And there were other bizarre fashions she had come to associate with the wizarding world. There was a wizard swaddled in thick furs, complete with the snarling, taxidermified faces of the animals that had previously worn them hanging off his shoulders and waist like tiny bestial spirits. A witch lounged against a wall, cleaning her fingernails with a dagger, wearing a low-cut chainmail bodice that looked neither comfortable nor warm. A column of black-robed children with solemn faces and tall, black hats filed past. None of them looked at her. Alexandra found the unaccompanied youngsters, who appeared too young to even have wands, disturbing.
But what was really remarkable about the scene, besides the fashions that were strange and attention-grabbing even to her, was the fact that Muggles were mingling with wizards immediately outside the Wizardrail station, and none of them gave the astrological robes and conical hats, medieval armor, Eastern cassocks, leather jerkins, or Colonial garb a second glance.
Alexandra had heard that New Yorkers were jaded, but she didn't think they would fail to notice witches and wizards walking in their midst. Yet the men and women in business suits or sporty spring outfits suitable for the breezy riverside hurried along as if people in robes and furs and stovepipe hats were commonplace.
She had a map of New Amsterdam, but she already knew from memorizing it that the Colonial Bank of the New World was down the street, between two Muggle skyscrapers. As she walked further from the Wizardrail station, the witches and wizards became scarcer, and an old bearded warlock in purple robes and emerald green spectacles did attract attention from the Muggles around him. No one said anything to him, but they obviously noticed that he didn't fit in, until he walked into a small alcove next to a market, opened an unmarked wooden door, and disappeared.
Alexandra tried to look like she fit in. She wasn't exactly dressed like a witch, but she was carrying a raven in a cage, and Charlie was complaining loudly. People stared at her, and someone took a picture of her. She turned her face away.
The Colonial Bank of the New World was a large marble structure similar to the one in Chicago. It was less impressive when dwarfed by glass and steel skyscrapers that seemed to have grown around it like trees towering over a mushroom. People streamed in and out of the buildings on either side of the wizarding bank, but no Muggles walked up the steps to the CBNW, or even sat on them. The Muggle-Repelling Charms must be extremely potent, Alexandra thought.
She ascended the marble steps and walked through the entrance. There were two trolls standing in the lobby, wearing blue uniforms that barely stretched over their immense shoulders and completely failed to cover their huge bellies. The tiny blue caps on their heads only made them look more childlike, but there was nothing childish in the scowls they gave her and Charlie. Alexandra had never seen guards of any kind at a CBNW before. She wondered if there were wizard heists here in New Amsterdam.
Walking past the scowling trolls, she approached a witch behind a teller's window, and took out her leather booklet with the bank's seal embossed on it.
"I'd like to withdraw a hundred Lions," she said.
The witch took her bank book, and went into a back room. After a few minutes, she returned, accompanied by a stern-looking wizard in a pinstriped suit and bowler hat. The green cape draped around his shoulders did not match the gold and black outfit. Nor did the long pipe clenched between his teeth.
"This is my manager, Mr. Ponzelskinn," said the teller.
"You want a hundred Lions?" Mr. Ponzelskinn asked.
"Yes," Alexandra said. "Is that a problem?" She wondered if the Wizard Justice Department could keep her from withdrawing money from her account.
"Not at all. I was just wondering if you might like to talk to one of our investment advisors. You have a substantial amount of coinage in your account, and it's not working as hard as it could be, sitting in a vault."
"Oh," Alexandra said. "Um, not right now, thanks." She wondered how many coins she did have in her account. The teller was stacking golden Lions up on the counter, and it was more money than Alexandra had ever held in her hands at once. It was actually more money than she'd be able to physically hold in her hands. She heaved her backpack up on the counter, set Charlie's cage next to it, and opened her pack, preparing to shovel the coins into it.
"How about a WizardExpress card?" the wizard in the pinstripe suit asked. "It's not too early for a young witch to start building her credit." He grinned at her in what seemed meant to be an avuncular manner.
"Sure," Alexandra said, although his smile reminded her of the hags in the Goblin Market. Claudia and Archie had never let her have a credit card.
The stack of forms they brought her was much thicker than she expected. The banker assured her that her account balance was a sufficient guarantee, and that she didn't need a parent's signature. But she paused when she got to the Blood Signature. She actually started reading the Terms & Conditions.
"Wait," she said. "This interest rate depends on securing my 'line of credit' with… my firstborn child?" She looked up at Mr. Ponzelskinn with an expression of disbelief.
He spread his hands, with an ingratiating smile. "The best interest rates in the wizarding world! But of course, you can accept the standard interest rate without that security —"
"Seriously, what would you do with my firstborn child?" she asked.
He cleared his throat. "It really doesn't come to that very often."
She left the bank with a backpack full of Lions, but no credit card. The bank manager watched her leave, biting down hard on his pipe with an unpleasant grimace. Then he yelled for an owl as he began writing on a piece of vellum.
On Alexandra's parchment, New Amsterdam was a small purple blob surrounded by what the map labeled "Greater Muggle New Amsterdam (also known by Muggles alternatively as The City of New York, Five Boroughs, and The Big Apple)."
There were cautionary glyphs and red rings around every exit from the wizarding world. Crude pictures and flashing text warned against speaking to Muggles, giving money to Muggles, or casting spells outside the purple blob. There were also illustrations on the back of the map indicating "Common Muggle Hazards," which included buses, cars, trains, potholes, pigeons, lights, lines and cables, tall buildings, falling airplanes, policemen, and sharks.
The New Amsterdam Academy for Witches and Wizards had once been a single building, marked on the very edge of wizarding New Amsterdam. Now, students lived in a dorm near the original location of the school, while the buildings used to conduct classes were scattered around New Amsterdam.
The instructions sent to Decathlon champions led Alexandra through a quieter part of Manhattan full of big expensive vehicles and buildings she guessed were apartments where rich people lived. As she walked down a tree-lined street, she saw something beneath her feet, with her Witch's Sight: an immense, rippling crack in the world. When she focused on it, she felt it stretching off into the distance ahead of her and behind her. It might run the entire length of New Amsterdam.
There had been a lot of these cracks in Chicago; she bet there were more of them in New York as well.
At the intersection where the school's administrative offices were supposed to be located, she found a small fenced garden surrounded by more apartments. It was a "private park," according to the plaque on the locked gate.
She looked around, then slid her wand out. The lock opened easily, and when she stepped through the gate, she found that the park was much bigger than it appeared. She walked along a gravel path between tall elms until she reached a granite pedestal with a black marble plaque embedded in it.
The words inscribed on the plaque were:
New Amsterdam Academy for Witches and Wizards
Est. 1731
Solum Bonum Draco Mortus Est
Here was established the new grounds for the New Amsterdam Academy for Witches and Wizards in 2011, after the historical building was destroyed by the Enemy of the Confederation in 2010. Let students past and present never forget this despicable attack upon our beloved school and the very foundations of Wizarding society, and seek ever to uphold the honored traditions of New Amsterdam Academy and the Confederation.
May justice be done!
"Huh," Alexandra said.
A single three-story building sat in the far corner of the park. It looked like a smaller replica of the big apartment buildings surrounding it. She walked up the steps into the foyer.
Beyond the entrance was a newly tiled floor, but the walls were paneled with old wood and covered with tapestries. Suits of armor stood next to the two doors opposite the entrance, reminding her of Doomguards. She took one step into the foyer, and was immediately frozen in place. She couldn't move a muscle, or cry out, and for a panicked moment, thought she couldn't breathe. Charlie didn't make a sound either, so she assumed the spell must be affecting the raven as well.
The two suits of armor moved in unison. The swords they held vertically in front of them flipped in their hands and descended to a downward-pointing angle as they stepped off their platforms.
Alexandra tried to break the spell, but she was helpless as the suits of armor advanced on her. Then they stopped, and the door on the right opened. A slim young man in a white suit and tie stepped out, adjusted a pair of glasses with bright blue lenses, and snapped his fingers. Suddenly Alexandra could move again.
She looked at the armored suits now standing motionless on either side of her, then back at the young man.
"I'm registered for the Junior Wizarding Decathlon," she said, before he could put some other spell on her, or reactivate the suits of armor. "I'm here to get a room. I sent in a form requesting accommodations."
The young man adjusted his eyeglasses again with a precise gesture. "Most students don't arrive unaccompanied."
Alexandra shrugged. "I'm on my own."
"Which Territory or, er, Culture are you representing?" he asked. His supercilious tone and condescending attitude made Alexandra feel like she'd accidentally wandered into a formal ball wearing her jeans and boots and road-worn backpack.
"I'm the Ozarker champion," she said.
The young man's neatly trimmed eyebrows rose behind his glasses. "Really?"
He held out his hand, as if waiting for an invisible waiter to place something in it, and suddenly there was a notebook lying flat in his palm. He lowered his hand, flipped open the notebook, licked his thumb, and quickly paged through the book. He stopped and studied the page he'd thumbed to.
"Alexandra Octavia… Thorn?" he said, hesitating on the last name.
Alexandra clenched her jaw. That was not the name she'd filled out on her registration form. She had forged Claudia's signature on the parental permission form. She was beginning to think she might as well have forged her father's.
"Quick," she said. "It's Alexandra Octavia Quick."
"It says here —"
"Some people apparently like reminding me and everyone else who my father is," she said. She kept speaking, over the young man's sudden intake of breath. "But my name is Alexandra Quick. That's the name I sent in on my registration form. I know on the Confederation Census it's Alexandra Thorn, but I've never used my father's name."
Charlie chose that moment to cry out, "Alexandra!"
The young man stared at her, not moving.
Alexandra said, "Change it, please."
Slowly, he held up his other hand. A pencil appeared in it. He applied the eraser to the page, with tiny, precise motions, and then wrote something.
"Thank you," she said.
"The Ozarkers have never sent a champion before," he said. "Ever. Either to the Junior Wizarding Decathlon or the Confederation Decathlon."
"I'm the first, I guess."
"You don't sound like an Ozarker."
"It's a long story. But I have a notarized, duly authorized, and certified letter right here." She held out the parchment that the heads of the Five Families had sent her.
He peered at it, then her, then Charlie, as if trying to see through them. "If you require lodging, we will require cash. In Confederation coinage. As the registration form you sent in will have informed you, the Academy has a limited number of guest accommodations available…"
Alexandra reached into her pack and pulled out the bag full of Lions she'd withdrawn at the CBNW. She jingled it.
"I see," he said.
He made her sign some more forms. Alexandra was intrigued by the fact that he used a pencil. When she asked if everyone at New Amsterdam used pencils, he scoffed. "Certainly not. Far too avant garde for most wizardfolk in this town."
His name, she learned, was Proctor Matthews. Or perhaps it was his title. She wasn't sure.
"This way, please," Proctor Matthews said. "And do keep your voice down, there are some classes in session in this building."
Alexandra had many questions. She asked them in a hushed voice, which didn't seem to annoy him any less as they walked down carpeted, wood-paneled hallways lined with immense portraits that stretched from floor to ceiling. Everything looked out of place; the carpets and wood panels had obviously been conjured by magic, and the portraits did not seem well-grouped, as evidenced by the fact that Proctor Matthews frequently had to shush them as they argued with their neighbors.
"Why the Doomguards?" Alexandra asked.
"The what?" whispered Proctor Matthews.
"The suits of armor."
"Doomguards? Is that some quaint Ozarker appellation?" He sniffed. "Occasionally, we have unauthorized visitors."
"Muggles?"
"Merlin, no. They'd never get past our Muggle-Repelling Charms." He sniffed again. "But New Amsterdam is crawling with warlocks, renegade goblins, masterless elves, gnolls, trolls, hags, and other riff-raff. Thanks to your father."
At that, all the portraits in the hallway glowered down at her. Alexandra said nothing, but doubted that New Amsterdam had only become a haven for such creatures as a result of the Dark Convention.
The portraits were painted against backgrounds of vast libraries, green-hilled countrysides, or marble atriums. One painted wizard with a face like a shrunken apple stood on a dock, stooped forward, hands clasped over a dolphin-headed cane, with a large sailing ship sitting in the harbor behind him.
"Is it true?" he demanded. "Is her father the one who destroyed our home?"
"Cast her out!" cried a row of tightly-corseted and bonneted witches from their canvases.
"Shh!" said Proctor Matthews. "You must remember, good witches, classes are in session!"
"We never used to hang near student classrooms," sniffed one of the witches.
Proctor Matthews gave Alexandra a condescending glare, as if to say, See what you've done? Alexandra just glared back at him.
She heard voices behind a few doors, but they encountered no one else in the hallway. They finally reached a tiny office. Proctor Matthews led Alexandra into it, sat behind a desk, and pulled a card and a key out of a filing cabinet.
"The only remaining guest quarters for visiting witches are located in Walloon Tower," he said. "You'll have privacy, at least." He smirked.
Alexandra looked on her map of New Amsterdam. "That's out in the river!"
"Yes. But conveniently located near Crown Hall, the witches' dorm for our regular students. Walloon Tower has no, ah, facilities, so you'll have to Apparate to Crown Hall and use the communal bathroom there."
Alexandra glared at him. "I'm paying a lot of money for guest quarters that don't even have a bathroom in the same building?"
"You could always handle things the old-fashioned way, with a Vanishing Spell."
"Gross." Alexandra had once heard someone say wizards used to do that, before indoor plumbing, but she didn't actually believe it.
"You're also free to find lodgings amongst the Muggles, being careful to observe the International Statue of Secrecy, of course. Some of our students and visitors from less… traditional families do that. Everyone in New Amsterdam is suffering considerable inconvenience, with improvised facilities and heightened security, thanks to —"
"My father, yeah, I get it." Alexandra slapped down a pile of Lions and took the key and card from him.
"You do have an Apparition license?" Proctor Matthews asked.
"Um, no."
"Oh, dear. Well, you'll have to walk back and forth, then."
"You're kidding." She looked at the map again — Walloon Tower was a dot in the river.
"Apparition without a license is strictly prohibited in New Amsterdam." Proctor Matthews wore a smug expression. "The fines can be quite steep. And needless to say, flying across the river by broom is also strictly prohibited. For our regular students, flying is grounds for suspension on the first offense, and expulsion on the second. For Decathlon champions, you'd probably be disqualified."
He handed her a bell. "This will part the water between the tower and shore. You must exercise discretion — Muggles won't notice you if they aren't already paying attention to you, but if you ring it right in front of them, they'll see it. I believe you're the only witch without an Apparition license in Walloon Tower. From Crown Hall, you can follow the other witches to the cafeteria which currently serves as our dining commons."
"I assume there's an exception to that Apparition rule for the Decathlon?" Alexandra asked.
"I assume so," Proctor Matthews said lightly. "Good luck."
Alexandra walked out of the building, crossed the gated park, and walked three long blocks and through an underpass beneath a highway to the river. On her map, Proctor Matthews had shown her where she could take an old path down to the riverfront along a concrete embankment, hidden from Muggle sight and warded against their notice. The stone steps that led down to the water's edge were ancient and worn smooth.
About twenty yards offshore, a stone tower cast a shadow all the way to where she stood.
Walloon Tower looked like the sort of place one might find a kidnapped princess imprisoned on the top floor. It thrust out of the river in plain sight of the riverfront, the bridge that stretched across the sky behind her, and the boats and ships that churned through the water. Yet like so much of the wizarding world that was hidden in plain sight, it apparently attracted no more notice than one of the navigation buoys. Alexandra couldn't tell when or how the tower had originally been built, but it appeared that it might have at one time been anchored on dry land. Perhaps the river had shifted, or it had been reshaped by construction and landfills.
She looked around to make sure no Muggles happened to be at the water's edge, then rang the bell.
Water surged and parted, making a loud sucking sound. The riverbed lay exposed, brown and slimy, in a narrow path leading to the tower. Alexandra stepped off the last concrete step, and her boots sank into the mud.
"Gross!" said Charlie.
With slow, squishing steps, Alexandra walked between rising walls of water on either side of her until she reached steps cut into the stone base of the tower. Below the waterline, they were slippery with algae. Once Alexandra reached a small stone ledge above the level of the river, the tunnel through the water collapsed behind her with a splash. Some water landed on her and Charlie. The raven protested loudly.
"They make everything so much harder than it has to be," Alexandra muttered.
Walloon Tower was four stories tall. Stairs ran up the center of the tower, with two doors at each level, all of them closed. If everyone else just Apparated back and forth, Alexandra figured she'd probably never see any of her fellow guests.
She paused when she encountered a Clockwork golem on the first level, standing between the two doors.
Charmbridge's Clockworks were left shiny and featureless, but this one had a face painted onto it. Porcelain white, with enormous eyes, exaggerated lashes, and a creepy bow-lipped smile.
Alexandra found it disturbing, and she was not fond of Clockworks to begin with.
"What are you, room service?" she asked.
The Clockwork didn't answer, of course.
There was another one on each level. She edged past the Clockwork on the fourth floor, and opened her room with a sense of dread, expecting it to look like her cell on Eerie Island.
Instead, she found a bedroom that was more luxurious than her room at Charmbridge. It held only a single bed, and a complete set of antique woodwork furniture. The bed was large enough to require her to climb into it. It was covered with a thin blanket and pillows. There was an ornate writing desk, with fountain pens rather than quills. A large iron-banded wooden chest at the foot of the bed turned out to be more than spacious enough for all her belongings, but there was also a closet to hang her robes in, with a full-length mirror that she checked for charms or other ensorcellment. It appeared to be quite ordinary.
"Well," she said, "this isn't so bad."
"Charlie," said Charlie.
She set down Charlie's cage and let the raven out. Charlie hopped to the windowsill, which overlooked the river, and one of the other Boroughs of New York City on the opposite side. She unpacked some of her things, but kept her backpack with her as she walked back downstairs.
After another hike through the river mud, Alexandra climbed back up the embankment, and followed her map to a high-rise that was also outside of New Amsterdam's official boundaries. There was no doorman and the lobby desk was unattended, but it appeared to be an upscale building. Muggles came and went freely, none of them giving Alexandra more than a cursory glance.
She walked to the elevators, as she'd been instructed, and looked for the button for the 7 1/2th floor. There wasn't one until she cast a Revealing Charm.
When she exited the elevator, she found herself in a carpeted hallway lined with perfectly ordinary numbered doors, with peepholes and minimal furnishings on the walls. But as she watched, two girls exited one of the rooms, wearing robes and witches' hats.
She followed them to the bathroom at the end of the hall. The two witches were about her age. When she emerged from the stall and went to the sinks, the witches were still there.
"You aren't a New Amsterdam student," one girl said.
Her tone was challenging, but neither of them had drawn their wands, so Alexandra responded in a pleasant voice, "I'm one of the Decathlon champions. Can you show me where the cafeteria is?"
They looked at each other. "Must be from one of the frontier Territories," one said.
"Which school are you from?" the other one asked.
"The Pruett School," Alexandra said.
"Pruett School? Never heard of it. Well, come on, then." They beckoned her to come with them, as they walked back down the hallway to the elevator. Alexandra followed wordlessly as they chattered about their Arithmancy final and how expensive brooms were becoming.
In the elevator, one of the girls waved her wand and pressed a button that appeared above all the other floors, marked with a large green "D."
The elevator rose at a startling speed, until it must have shot up through and past the top floor. Alexandra barely had time to grab one of the safety bars lining its interior, and then they went tumbling and rolling through space like a ping pong ball sucked through a vacuum hose.
Alexandra was sprawled on the floor of the elevator when it came to a halt. The two girls laughed at her, but one offered her a hand up as the doors opened. "You don't have pneumatic Floos back at the Pruett School, do you?"
"No," Alexandra said, waiting for her stomach to drop out of her throat.
The New Amsterdam witches laughed again, and then left her, walking into the large room the "Floo" had brought them to.
They appeared to be in another building entirely — Alexandra had no idea where it was in relation to Crown Hall. Past a carpeted lobby was an eating area, which resembled a restaurant more than a cafeteria. Alexandra tried to blend in with the other students filing in, but quickly realized that she was the only one not wearing robes. Students younger and older than her stared as she tried to get in line with them, only to be blocked by a Clockwork much larger than the ones in Walloon Tower. This one was painted with a black tuxedo and smiling masculine face with a small twirly mustache.
A girl who must have been a senior approached Alexandra, wearing the orange and white New Amsterdam school robes that the vast majority of kids wore, and said, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Trying to get dinner," Alexandra replied.
The girl pointed at the sign near the entrance: No one will be served without proper wizarding attire. No brooms, backpacks, bags, or familiars.
"That applies even to guests," the girl said. She had a badge on her chest similar to the one that had been pinned to Proctor Matthews's breast pocket. And as the older girl dressed her down, Alexandra glanced across the room and saw Proctor Matthews — now wearing orange and white wizard robes like all the others in the dining area. He caught her eye, smiled, and shrugged.
"No one told me," Alexandra said.
"Now you've been told," the girl said. "Go back to your room and change."
"Yeah, Quick. Don't track mud in here."
Alexandra clenched her fists, turned slowly, and found herself face to face with Larry Albo. He was flanked by his friends, Wade White and Ethan Robinson, all of them wearing Charmbridge robes.
Larry gestured at her feet. "Nice boots. What did you do, walk all the way to New Amsterdam?"
Alexandra glanced down. Her boots were indeed caked with mud from her travels.
"What in Merlin's name is she doing here?" asked Wade.
"Good question." Larry shook his head. "I heard a rumor you were coming, but I also heard you'd been sent to Eerie Island. I'd believe anything I hear about you, Quick."
"Believe this — I'm going to kick your ass in the Decathlon starting tomorrow," Alexandra said.
Larry squinted at her. "You're competing? But how? I'm the Central Territory champion."
"I'm the Ozarker champion," Alexandra said.
Larry and the other two boys stared at her in disbelief.
"The Ozarkers have never sent a champion," said Larry.
"They have now."
"You're not an Ozarker!" he protested.
"I am now." She gave him a smug smile.
"I told you you need to change into robes," said the girl who'd intercepted Alexandra. "You can talk to your friends once you're properly attired. We wear robes and shoes here, Ozarker Annie, so leave your boots and bonnets in your room. Ask another Proctor if you need help learning to use silverware."
Larry, Wade, and Ethan burst into laughter at that. Alexandra's cheeks burned and she stomped out of the dining commons, feeling everyone's eyes on her back.
"Seriously, that's what they think of Ozarkers?" she said, walking back to the elevator. She wondered about all the times the Pritchards had mentioned being made fun of. It hadn't happened much around her — how much had she not seen?
At the elevator, she paused. All the way back to Crown Hall, then across the river to Walloon Tower, and back again, just to change her clothes?
"Screw that," she said.
She closed her eyes and concentrated. Destination, Determination, Deliberation.
She arrived back in her room with a crack.
Charlie, not startled at all by her appearance, said, "Stupid!"
"So I Apparated without a license," she said. "They have to catch me first."
"Troublesome," said the raven.
She changed into robes, looked across the river, pictured the dining commons she'd just left, and realized she didn't know its actual location, and thus could not Apparate there.
"The heck with it," she said. She'd take a shower before everyone else returned from the dining commons, then get something to eat in one of the many Muggle establishments near Crown Hall. She picked up a towel, toiletries, and change of clothes, and Apparated to Crown Hall instead, appearing directly in front of the bathroom. She startled a pair of younger girls wearing New Amsterdam orange and white, who jumped as she appeared in front of them.
"You're not supposed to Apparate here," one of them said. They both wore very serious expressions, and seemed to be studying her, as if memorizing her face to report her.
"They're going to put up Anti-Apparition Wards soon," said the other one.
"Ah din't know," Alexandra said. "Please don't tell on me, okay? Ah'm a visitor. Ah'm the Ozarker Junior Wizarding Decathlon champion. You know us Ozarkers, we'uns just doesn't know any better." She put a twang in her voice which could not have sounded less authentic, but the two girls just nodded.
They said nothing as Alexandra entered the bathroom.
It was empty. Alexandra chose one of the many shower stalls and took a hot shower, ignoring the rumbling in her stomach.
She could hear footsteps and voices in the hallway, but surprisingly little noise in the bathroom as she finished her shower. She cast a Drying Charm and put on a clean set of clothes suitable for walking around in Muggle neighborhoods, then stepped out of the shower stall.
Three girls stood between her and the exit. All wore orange and white New Amsterdam robes, and their wands were in their hands. The bathroom was otherwise empty.
Alexandra was holding her hickory wand in one hand, and her bag of laundry in the other, where her other two wands were wrapped in a towel. She stared down the three girls.
"What, did I violate some rule by taking a shower?" she asked.
"Stupefy!" yelled the tallest girl, flinging a Stunning Charm at her. Alexandra had already dropped everything but her wand.
She deflected the Stunner, but the other two girls pelted her simultaneously. The three of them were very good and had obviously practiced coordinating their spells by the way they hexed her high, low, and at angles difficult to block.
Great, bullies who use teamwork, Alexandra thought, countering the jinx one of them tried to bounce around her Shield Charm.
Her wizard-dueling practice with Maximilian and his friends had taught her how to defend herself against multiple attackers, but the ambush had caught her off-guard. At least her opponents didn't seem to be expecting her to put up so much of a fight. She knocked one girl down and cursed one of the others, making her long flame-colored hair writhe and wrap around her neck. While the red-headed girl frantically tried to counter the curse, the girl on the floor iced the tiles beneath Alexandra with a freezing jinx. Alexandra stepped away, wobbly and off-balance, and deflected a hex, but failed to stop another Stunning Charm. The red burst of light caught her squarely in the chest and knocked her against the tiled wall behind her. She hit her head, dazing her further as she slid to the floor.
"Accio wand!" said the red-head, and Alexandra's hickory wand flew into her hand.
The three witches advanced on her. Alexandra's chest hurt and she could barely move. The girl who'd struck her with the Stunner was tall and stout of frame, with blonde hair and hazel eyes that looked like cold marbles. The other two girls were about the same age as her, probably a year or two older than Alexandra. The red-head had a pale, freckled complexion; the one Alexandra had knocked to the floor was a curly brunette with light olive skin and a large nose. Neither of them had the intense expression of hatred that the first girl did.
"How dare you come to my school?" snarled the blonde girl. "How dare you walk in here like you belong here, like you're entitled to eat our food, sleep in our beds, walk our halls? How dare you be here?"
"I… don't… know you," Alexandra said. That Stunning Charm had hurt — a lot.
The girl cast another hex that caused wrenching agony in both of Alexandra's knees, as if they were being twisted out of their sockets. She loomed over her.
"My name," the girl said, "is Harriet Isingrim. Does that mean anything to you, sorceress?"
"No," Alexandra croaked.
Harriet Isingrim flicked her wand at Alexandra's face. Sparks flew and singed her lips and eyebrows.
"My father's name was Fredrick Isingrim." Harriet's voice rose. "He was a passenger on the Roanoke Underhill!"
"Oh," was all Alexandra could say.
"Your father killed my father and my uncle, and a hundred other people!" Harriet shouted. "And nothing happened to him! Or you!"
Alexandra wanted to say that a lot had happened to her, but she could barely move. Harriet stepped back and unleashed another Stunning Charm. Alexandra blacked out this time.
She came to with a jolt of pain, and realized one of them had cast a Rejuvenation Charm. She gasped, and then another hex hit her in the stomach. Though she was already doubled up in pain, she curled even tighter. Yet another hex struck her, then another.
"C…Cr… Crucio… would work better," she managed to say, between painful breaths. "Doesn't even… leave a mark."
One of the girls gasped. Harriet stood with her mouth open for a moment.
"You vile little sorceress," she said. "I'll bet you do know how to cast an Unforgivable. You think this is funny? Stupefy!"
Stars blurred Alexandra's vision and pain made even breathing difficult. When she opened her eyes again, Harriet was holding a small blade.
Then another girl's voice said, "What are you doing?"
Harriet and her friends all whirled around. Alexandra thought the voice sounded familiar.
Harriet said, "Get out."
"This is none of your business," said one of Harriet's friends. "Just leave."
"Stars Above!" exclaimed the new girl. There was that familiar drawl again. "What are you planning to do, kill her?"
"No. We're just teaching her a lesson."
"We'll teach you one, too, if you don't get out of here!"
"Expelliarmus!"
It was the new voice who shouted that last incantation. Alexandra sucked in a deep breath and forced her eyes all the way open.
A dark-skinned girl wearing green and silver robes stood facing the other three. Her wand was pointed at them, but her expression was wide-eyed and a little panicked. Harriet stared at her in astonishment. Her knife had gone flying over her shoulder and now lay under a sink. The other two girls were pointing their wands at the newcomer.
"Angelique," Alexandra said.
"Hello, Alexandra," Angelique Devereaux said.
Harriet Isingrim looked slowly back and forth between them.
"You two are friends," she said, through gritted teeth.
"We know each other," Angelique said. Then she swallowed. "Yes, we're friends. And… and you should stop this. You're not allowed to duel in the bathrooms."
Alexandra couldn't clear the stars from her vision, and when she tried to lift herself to her elbows, her arms trembled and didn't want to obey.
"Walk out of here now or you'll get what she's getting," the red-headed girl told Angelique. She wiggled her wand, and sparks ran along its length. "Do you think you can take all three of us?"
"I'll report you," Angelique said, pointing a trembling wand at Harriet.
Harriet held up her hands. "Fine." She walked carefully around Angelique, just within arm's length. She glanced back at Alexandra. "We'll settle this soon enough."
"But —" said one of Harriet's friends.
Alexandra opened her mouth to warn Angelique, but Harriet's lunge was too sudden. She grabbed Angelique by the throat with one hand, seized her wrist with the other, and shoved her against the wall. She was taller and clearly stronger. Angelique cried out as she slammed into the tiles.
Harriet leaned forward, with her lips curling back almost as if she meant to sink her teeth into the other girl's throat.
"You're from Baleswood, aren't you? Are you a Dark sorceress too? You know what we do to Dark sorceresses in New Amsterdam? We burn them!"
"I'm not… I…" Angelique whimpered.
Alexandra could still barely move. Her laundry bag and towels were just out of reach.
Angelique held up her other hand, palm out, in a pleading gesture. Her sleeve slid back, and Alexandra caught a glimpse of a tattoo inked into her skin when Angelique said, "Honey!"
The tattoo writhed and swelled, and emerged as a living thing from Angelique's forearm.
"Leggo, masher!" snarled the weasel-like creature, and then it leaped onto Harriet's face and sank its teeth into her nose.
Harriet shrieked and fell backward, covering her face with her hands and trying to pull Angelique's jarvey loose. The jarvey gabbled out several foul words even while clamped onto Harriet's nose.
The girl with the red-orange hair yelled and cast a charm at Angelique, who screamed and ducked. The spell cracked the mirror behind her. Angelique said "Victoro!" and her wand made a popping sound as a blinding flash of light lit up the room, reflecting off all the mirrors. While Harriet's friends were momentarily distracted, Angelique said, "Rennervate!"
Alexandra felt a surge of energy. She could move again. She lunged for her laundry bag and thrust her hand into it, even as the other two girls renewed their assault. She whipped out the yew wand.
Obey me! she thought, and said, "Levicorpus!" She flipped the red-headed girl upside down and dropped her on her head.
The olive-skinned girl cast a spell at Alexandra and another at Angelique. She was fast. Alexandra deflected the spell directed at her, and Angelique did the same, barely. Then Alexandra knocked the other girl off her feet with a Stunning Charm of her own and pushed herself to her feet.
"Accio wand!" she said, and her hickory wand came flying out from beneath the red-haired girl and into her hand. She hastily switched wands, thrusting her yew wand out of sight.
Angelique cried, "Honey!"
"Stinking porker!" Honey exclaimed. The jarvey leaped off of Harriet and ran to Angelique, climbing up her leg inside her robes. While Angelique shrieked again, this time at her familiar, Harriet rolled to her feet, wiping blood off her face and glaring death at Alexandra and Angelique.
Alexandra, shaking and still seeing stars, pointed her wand at the defenseless girl. "My turn," she said.
Harriet's friends groaned. One reached for her wand, and with a flick, Alexandra sent it flying under one of the toilet stalls.
Angelique, struggling with Honey, who'd made it to her neckline and was now wriggling out from under her robes, said, "Y'all need to stop this now! Girls are waiting to use the bathroom, they aren't going to stay in the hallway all night!"
"Piss in a bucket, filthbag!" said Honey.
Harriet, still clutching a hand over her bleeding nose, made a defiant beckoning gesture.
"Do it, then," she said, addressing Alexandra. "Do your worst, Mudblood. Know that I will return it seven-fold."
"Filthy Mudblood!" screamed Honey.
Battered and sore, Alexandra struggled with her fury. She really wanted to return seven-fold what Harriet had already done to her. She glanced at Angelique, and saw fear in the other girl's eyes.
She turned her wrathful gaze back on Harriet.
"Get out," she said. "I'm better than you."
Harriet sneered.
The girl with the red-orange hair limped over to her wand and picked it up, slowly, keeping it pointed away from Alexandra and Angelique, who both held their wands poised to unleash more hexes.
"Just remember you had to gang up on me and ambush me," Alexandra said. "I'm a Decathlon champion — you'd never be a match for me in a fair fight."
"Cheating whore!" Honey said.
"I'm the New Amsterdam champion," Harriet said. "We'll see about that." She glared at Honey. "Someone should poison that thing."
Honey's response was a particularly profane and anatomically explicit outburst. Harriet turned purple. Even Angelique looked shocked.
The three defeated witches all limped out of the bathroom. When the door opened, Alexandra saw a crowd waiting outside. As Harriet and her companions exited, girls streamed in from the hall. Most went directly to the stalls, though a few stared at Alexandra and Angelique curiously.
"They were waiting," Alexandra said. "They knew."
Angelique giggled, a little hysterically. "I knew there would be trouble as soon as I heard Alexandra Quick was here."
"Troublesome Mudblood!" said Honey.
"Nice to see you too, you dirty talking sock," Alexandra said. "How did Harriet not wring your neck?"
"I feed her vitality potions," Angelique said. "She's tougher than she looks."
"Pansy little piggy!" said Honey, preening.
Angelique put a hand around the jarvey's muzzle. She stroked the jarvey, then let go, held out her arm, and pulled her sleeve back. "Honey."
"Kiss my ass!" Honey said.
"Treats later," Angelique said. Her voice became wheedling. "I have candied crickets."
"Eat worms," Honey said, and crawled onto Angelique's arm.
Alexandra watched in fascination as Honey sank back into Angelique's skin, becoming an inked tattoo, paws held high.
"How did you do that?" Alexandra asked.
"I researched the enchantment myself," Angelique said with pride. "But it took a while to find a wizard tattoo artist good enough to ink it."
"Vitality potions and a magic tattoo," Alexandra said. "Huh."
Angelique straightened her robes, then turned to the mirror and began grooming herself. "Oh my stars, my hair is a fright now."
Alexandra's blood was still pounding in her ears. She was torn between hunger, fatigue, and a desire to chase down Harriet Isingrim for a rematch. But as she regarded Angelique, who had once been Darla Dearborn's best friend, she made herself calm down.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" she asked. "You're not Baleswood's Champion, are you?"
Angelique stopped her primping, and gave Alexandra a flat stare. "Baleswood is gone," she said. "Swallowed by the bayou."
Alexandra closed her eyes. Her father had done that. Baleswood was the first school he and the Dark Convention had destroyed, as they escalated their war against the Confederation.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't —"
"I know, Alexandra. I know you're not responsible for what your father does." Angelique sighed. "After your… after Baleswood was destroyed, we all had to go somewhere. A lot of new day schools have opened in Louisiana, but some of us came here." She shrugged. "It's not so bad. New Amsterdam is interesting. But I miss Charmbridge." She bit her lip.
Girls of all ages were in the bathroom now. Some had gone into the showers. Most were giving Alexandra and Angelique a wide berth. Angelique stepped away from the sink and mirror so another girl could use it.
Alexandra lowered her voice and said, "So, Harriet Isingrim is the New Amsterdam champion. And she let everyone know that they were going to jump me in the bathroom?"
Angelique nodded. "I suppose so."
"And you helped me."
Angelique smiled. "We Charmbridge girls have to stick together, right?" Her voice cracked a little, and for a moment, her smile faltered and her eyes misted over.
Alexandra had always thought of Angelique as a friendly but silly girl. But Angelique had lost her best friend, then been brought home to go to a different school than the one she'd called home for years, only to have that one destroyed. And now she'd come to the aid of the girl who many would say was responsible for much of that.
"Thank you, Angelique," Alexandra said.
Angelique looked down, then raised her head again, and wiped at the corner of an eye with the back of her hand. She smiled.
"So," she said. "How's David?"