Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three

Iolanthe

Chapter Fifty

The Samhain Ball

James Potter climbed the final step and walked across the dusty wooden decking of the astronomy tower to the west-facing wall and peered out at the tomato-red sun. The orb was dim enough, and low enough, that he could look at it directly as he appreciated the western sky and the bands of violet, indigo and rose rising above the horizon. There weren't any stars visible in the west, but they would be coming out soon.

James had diverted from the Great Hall for a quick, unauthorized trip to the tower specifically to watch the sun set. He was acutely aware the Potters were all at the manor getting ready to throw a dandy party for Samhain, and he wasn't going to be part of it. James spent a lot of time in his greenhouse, or at Teddy Lupin's greenhouse, or in the Greengrass Manor gardens, but if he ranged widely on his own he was still strongly attached to his immediate family and was accustomed to participating in family events. If nothing else, he needed to stay current with the evolution of insider references so as not to miss any nuance in future conversations.

He could have conscripted Scorpius and Rose to come to his sunset-viewing but decided not to. They'd be having their own thoughts about Samhain at Potter Manor. When Iolanthe finagled her way to assisting with the ball in order to get around the fact that she wouldn't be fifteen for another month, it had been made clear to James, Scorpius and Rose that Iolanthe was a special case and they shouldn't get ideas about adopting her method. Scorpius would be feeling bad, as a historian, thought James. He was missing out on witnessing a unique event. There might be more balls for the old holidays in the future, but this was the first Potter ball of the new era, and next year would not be a Potter first.

Rose, of course, had regrets about not being present for Iolanthe's irregular and triumphant introduction to society. Not to worry though, because Rose had the discipline and intellectual capacity to keep those things in perspective. She wouldn't compartmentalize regrets or resentment in the interest of preserving her relationship with Iolanthe and the Potters, because those have a way of emerging without warning, at the worst possible moment, spoiling parties not yet planned. Rose would be delighted that Iolanthe was having a new adventure. Coming up to commiserate with James wouldn't do anyone any good.

The result was James stood alone at the west-facing opening in the astronomy tower wall, knowing a thirteen-year-old wouldn't be at the ball, even if he were at the manor, but knowing he wanted to be there anyway. Maybe he could have gone for a walk and happened across Plum, and the woodlanders, who would certainly be holding their own Samhain around the bonfire back in the woods.

James left the western opening and crossed the platform to the east. The moon was about half-risen, a great, blood-orange disc that soon would hang in the cloudless sky and light up the countryside from Hogsmeade to Land's End and everything in between. Then one would be able to climb the highest hill around and spot the bonfires, because the old ways had a habit of seeping into the culture, even among the muggles, and preserving themselves through hard times.

James stood there, trying to decide whether to skip dinner and go for a short surreptitious flight around the neighborhood and see how many bonfires he could find. There would be one in the middle of the main intersection in Hogsmeade, of course, as there was every year. There were bound to be more. Alternatively, James thought it might be wiser to go down and be seen at dinner, then slip back up for a little practical astronomy.

The creaking of the stair gave Moira away. She was walking slowly and quietly toward the west-facing opening when James cleared his throat.

"Hmm-HMM?"

Moira spun around.

"James!" she said, "You frightened me!"

"Not on purpose," James said. "I tried to be unthreatening. Couldn't let you get any closer to that opening. What are you doing up here?"

"Everyone was getting to their seats for dinner and I couldn't find you. Someone said they'd seen you heading this direction," Moira said. "There's not very much around here that would attract you besides this view."

"Too right," James said, betraying a little enthusiasm for Moira's excellent deduction. "Come on over and look then maybe we should get something to eat. It's a long time before breakfast."

By the time they got back to the Great Hall their usual choice of seats was gone, so they settled at the furthest end of the populated Hufflepuff seating. They didn't have any herbology papers on which to focus, a circumstance that forced them to have the first unprompted conversation in the six weeks of their acquaintance.

"Anything special?" Moira asked as she passed the mashed potatoes across the table. "Like, reasons?"

"Samhain," said James as he put a heap of potatoes on his plate. "Looking for bonfires. Kind of silly of me, isn't it?"

"Not really," Moira said. "Bonfires are fine with me. We can't do very big ones on the island. We don't have very many trees. Driftwood tends to get used for something, unless it comes just before Samhain."

"That's something I never thought of," James said. "We've got woods. There is a community of woodlanders and Dad has a deal with them. You observe Samhain on the island?"

"We're islanders, James, not ignorant," Moira advised him. "If we don't keep the traditions how will the next generation know them? What will they do if the catch drops? Suppose the seed drowned from too much rain. We can't be reduced to sitting on the bench like muggles saying we wish it would stop raining. We need to find out what's wrong. What do you do when you've had too much rain and the seed drowns?"

"Ah," James tried. He knew life was a lot different in the isles. A lot. A few weeks of conversations with Moira had shown him how large the gap was between Moira's family's material condition and his own. He tried to think of a way to let the existence of his greenhouse emerge without sounding like a rich braggart from Devon.

Harry hadn't preached modesty to James and Iolanthe. He'd let them watch and observe while he'd chosen appropriate moments for a thousand little chats about gratitude and modesty and sensitivity to others' feelings. James knew most people didn't have multiple houses and well-known parents who were pillars of society and grandparents who had a lake they could take out and put away as needed. James had seen more than enough of London to understand discrepancies in wealth, in both the muggle and magical worlds.

What's more, he never forgot Harry's advice to refrain from discussing money, or lands, or things, if he didn't know the other person's perspective. Moira had revealed enough of herself for him to feel her pride in being from the isles, for being one of the sea people. He also knew he had not known Moira nearly long enough to be tired of her. Moira had no artifice about her. She could be terse, or blunt, and do things like give him a simple yes or no proposition. If he didn't believe her, to take one example, she would go find another place to sit. A young man knew where he stood with Moira, and James liked that.

He wouldn't have phrased it just so, he possessed neither the concepts nor the understanding, but James' estimation of Moira was growing a little with each encounter. He liked the way their interactions felt, and he wanted them to go on mapping the dimensions of their mutual interest. He thought Moira wanted that, too, although James' experience with girls was so scant he could not have provided facts to justify his assumption.

"The thing is," James continued, choosing his words with great care, "Excessive rain hasn't been a problem. I haven't had to deal with it. If it did become, I suppose I'd ask my grandfather. He's a landscaper."

James was looking down at his plate, mashed potatoes and a piece of battered deep-fried cod. His face felt hot. Daphne had always counseled Iolanthe and James that half the truth is a whole lie, but James thought he was justified in keeping his greenhouse to himself for a little while longer until he was sure he wouldn't drive Moira away by revealing it.

Moira sat on her side, staring at James with her green eyes, chewing a piece of poached salmon. She swallowed and speared a section of steamed carrot with her fork, pausing with it on its way to her mouth.

"Do you like mashed potatoes with fried cod?" she asked.

"Not really," James said. "I wasn't thinking 'cod' when the bowl of potatoes came around."

"Did you have mashed potatoes on your plate, and then chose cod so I'd see you eating fish?" Moira asked. "Because you know I really like fish? Were you not going to add fries when you already had potatoes?"

"Something like that, apparently," James said. "You know, it's actually kind of hard to understand."

"James Greengrass Potter," Moira said as she put down her fork. "I know your greenhouse keeps the rain off your plants. I know who Fabio Greengrass is, and Harry Potter, and Daphne Potter. Can you not be a phony, at least with me? I've done man's work on fishing boats, James, and I learned friendship follows establishing we can count on our crewmates. NOT the other way 'round."

"Of course," James said, sounding well-chastened. "It won't happen again."

"What do you do when there's too much rain and the seeds drown, or the young plants suffer?" Moira asked.

"Our beds and fields are laid out to let gravity manage the drainage so we don't have to scramble. We keep the ditches clear and make sure the water can get to the little seeps and the streams and get on down to the Dart. Most years that's enough."

"Brilliant," Moira said. "Very crafty. Was that hard? Being honest is the first step in trust. I don't care if your parents are successful. There's no need to edit to spare my feelings. It will hurt worse if you do, because that tells me you think I'm weak, too weak for the truth. Then we definitely won't be friends."

Moira went back to spearing sections of steamed carrots, popping them in her mouth and chewing. James heard something in her words he had been dying to hear.

"Are we?" James asked. "Friends?"

Moira took the time to swallow what she had in her mouth before speaking.

"No," she said. "Not yet, but we might be, soon, if neither one of us screws it up."

James nodded.

"Logical enough," he said. "Are we close enough to go back to the astronomy tower after dinner?"

Moira looked across the table one more time.

"You aren't going to try to kiss me, or put your hands all over me, or push me up against the wall and hold me there, are you?" she asked. "Because I'm not going if that's what you want."

"NO!" James said. It was a whisper, technically, but quite a few Hufflepuffs had to stop talking and eating to look down the table at them. Moira and James concentrated on their food. When the Hufflepuffs returned their attention to their meals they could talk some more.

"No, that's not it," muttered James. "To look for bonfires."

"Mmm-hm," said Moira. "All right. Do you have astronomy homework?"

"No," James said. "No astronomy this term."

"Me neither," said Moira. "Neither of us has a justification for being in the astronomy tower after dark. Ooh, it's so dangerous, high up and dark. A careless student could fall. Ten points from Hufflepuff."

Something disparaging lurked inside that statement. James sensed it, was sure of it but didn't know what it was.

"How about this?" James tried once more. "We each write a note to someone at home, then we go up to the owlery to mail it. We just take as long as we like sending the mail. No broken rules there that I can see."

Moira thought it over.

"Fifteen minutes after we leave here, then fifteen minutes in the owlery," she proposed. "That ought to be more than enough time to spot the bonfires."

That was the plan, although to execute they needed to be patient until enough Hufflepuffs were headed out of the great hall for them to blend.

James wrote his note and took some owl treats to the owlery and occupied himself chatting up the owls while waiting for Moira.

"Hey, were you expecting Iolanthe?" James asked as he chatted up the owls.

"Iolanthe is at the house in Devon," James said, "So, she won't be coming tonight, and you will have to make do with me. Here, have a piece of sausage…"

Moira walked in slowly and quietly so as not to break up the party. She stood just beyond the doorway and let James discover her.

"Hullo!" James called. "You've come to mail a note."

"Any bonfires?" Moira asked.

"Just two, both over that way," James answered, handing out his last few treats. He walked to the east side window opening and hopped up.

"James, be careful!" Moira ordered.

"Don't worry," James said. Moira jumped up beside him.

James spoke slowly and calmly.

"Moira, I think you should step down."

"Do you?" asked Moira.

"Yes," James tried. "Please."

"Gosh, the big guns," Moira said. "James Potter asked me to do something, complete with a 'Please.'"

"Moira, I must be honest," James began.

"I know," said Moira.

"I won't get hurt if I fall because…" James said, then faltered. "Because…you're going to think I'm a freak. I don't need a broom."

"Lovely, James," said Moira. "And I don't think you're a freak. Thank you for your honesty."

"You should be put off," James said. "We don't talk about it outside the family these days because of the negative reactions. Voldemort, of course. He figured it out and taught some of his close followers. That is not considered a good portent for the son of Harry Potter."

"Fine," Moira said, "The rumors are true. I'm a banshee. I don't need a broom either. If you want to stop seeing me that's okay. People have cut me off before because of it. There, we've both been honest inside of one minute."

"Oh," James said. Moira waited.

"Oh," he said again. "Banshee. Hmm…"

"How do you become a banshee at twelve?" He made it sound like he wanted to get started on his application.

"No one knows," Moira said, sounding put out. "I didn't ask for it. I just got up one morning feeling different, started developing little traits."

"Do you howl, like at the moon?" James asked.

"No," Moira answered. "We wail. We don't howl."

"Wow, that is impressive," James said. "Long flowing gowns? Like a dementor?"

"I understand if you don't want to be friends," Moira said. "I can't say I'm used to it. When people learn about it and back away it's not pleasant. Banshees need social contact like everyone else. Are you going or staying?"

"Staying," James said without any hesitation. "Except I'm going to do a little flying, just to clear out the congestion."

James stepped off the parapet and dropped like a sack of cement, stabilized, flew back up to Moira's level and started flying circles around the tower. After a few laps he stabilized in a cross-legged sitting position about ten yards out.

"Not too weird for you?" James asked.

"No," answered Moira, kind of snippy and disgusted. She stepped off the owlery tower and plunged into deep darkness between two gables that protruded from the side of the castle. James started to become worried when she didn't return. He needn't have, though, because she did come back and assumed the same position six feet in front of James.

The brilliant moonlight cast everything in black, white and shades of gray, so it looked to James like Moira's Hogwarts robe was a long black gown hanging down from her crossed legs.

"Who taught you to fly?" Moira asked.

"I've always flown," James said. "The children always had the little restricted brooms to play with so my earliest memories concern flying. Dad let us fly around inside. When we got a little older there were some old brooms around that he didn't think would hurt us so Zelda started flying those when we were six or seven. Hugo and I had to keep up, of course. Then one day I just got off and hung there in the air. Pretty simple."

"That doesn't sound simple," Moira said. She stopped talking and sat there appraising James. When she spoke it sounded to James like a pronouncement.

"You've been given a gift. You're obligated."

"Tell me about banshees," James said. "That sounds like a gift. Tonight's Samhain. Will you be going out to wail?"

"No, and don't joke around," Moira cautioned. "Have you ever mourned for someone? Do you know that feeling?"

James was brought up short by Moira's question, because of course he had mourned for his beloved aunt. He'd built her pyre, along with his father and the outdoor elves, a great pile of seasoned hardwood he'd laid and pulled apart and relaid to make it the best, most stable pyre possible to give Astoria the perfect exit from this world. He'd thought that was how he had worked out his mourning, but Moira's question brought all the sadness and loss back, stronger than ever. James realized he hadn't worked anything out, nothing at all.

"Oh, Auntie, Auntie, Auntie," he sighed as the tears began. Moira watched James carefully for signs he was losing his flying abilities but all he did was wobble a little bit. Moira kept the volume very low and began to wail. She stopped now and then, to check on James.

The moans were like nothing James had ever heard. He wasn't even sure he was hearing moans. His grief came out from very deep inside him and the moan seemed to be part of it, like an emotion one could hear. James thought of all the good times he'd had with Iolanthe and the Malfoys, sitting on Auntie's lap while young Iolanthe tried to read aloud from the Odyssey, which should have been excruciating for an active six year old but was as close to Heaven as James had ever experienced.

"James?"

"Uh-huh," he answered.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I do, how did you know?" James asked.

Moira maneuvered her hand inside the bell sleeve of her robe and pulled the cloth snug over her hand, using it to dab at the last tears running down James' cheeks.

"I'm a banshee," she reminded him. "Do you see what banshees can do for people in pain? Mourning?"

"I do," James said. "I feel so much better now. We really miss our aunt."

"I know," Moira said.

"It just wouldn't go away, all last year," James continued.

"It will do that," said Moira. "Do you think banshees should be burned at the stake or banished from the community and forced to live alone in the fens or out on the moor without even a hut of their own?"

"NO!" James shouted. "You helped me a lot. I really appreciate it."

"So you'll just keep this to yourself? I don't expect you to lie, it's just less complicated."

James looked at Moira.

"And you don't think I'm some kind of freak?"

"No," said Moira. "You've got a gift. I can see your heart, just a little. When the time comes, you'll use it well."

Something about their confessions opened up the gates and let them talk. No one suggested they fly off, it just started, like two people chatting on a park bench might stand up and ramble without a break in the conversation. There were a surprising number of Samhain bonfires, many more than could have been attributed to wizards alone.

Humans are terrestrials and their senses and instincts are not oriented toward the speeds and distances of flyers. Thus it is not surprising that a twelve- and thirteen-year-old were quickly well beyond any reasonable boundary for a little extracurricular flying. James looked down and thought he could pick out some familiar features.

"Have you ever been to Liverpool?" he asked.

"I've seen it from a boat. That's a completely different perspective," Moira said.

"That's the stadium," James said, pointing. "There's a match."

"Are you taking me to Devon?" Moira asked.

"I wasn't," James said, telling the truth, "But we're close, you know, if you're flying. We could check in with the woodlanders. I could introduce you to Plum."

At Potter Manor the Potters had been working down Tracey's checklists since around noon. The reception line would be convened a few minutes before seven, the time given on the invitations for the start of the Samhain festivities. Kingsley and Caroline had arrived together a little after six. Tracey and the elves had provided drinks in the gallery/library. Fabio and Kendra joined in, along with Bill and Fleur Weasley, Teddy and Victoire. All of them had supporting roles and were awarded a little treat of some personal time with the Serene in recognition.

A series of pops sounded outside the front of the house, Tracey called game time and the party took their places. Iolanthe was assigned a post just ahead of the receiving line, staffing a table full of little bouquets of marigolds bound in a fancy rosette of black ribbon, the traditional colors of Samhain. Ladies were given a bouquet, and could carry it or Iolanthe would tap it with her wand and add a simple attachment charm the bouquet became a corsage, as the lady chose.

After the ladies got their bouquets, the guests proceeded down the hall to the receiving line. They were greeted by Daphne, Harry, Kingsley, Caroline, and Lissette, in that order. The senior herald from the Department of Protocol, who knew everyone, and something about everyone, stood behind Kingsley and Caroline, ready to supply a name or anything else the minister or guest of honor might require.

Caroline had told Tracey during planning to hold Lissette in reserve. Caroline had pulled Lissette aside during social time and asked her to be her partner in the line. As the ranking person in the line, Caroline knew from experience that she would be a choke point for gabby greeters without a person next to her. She sat down in a quiet corner with Lissette and described the drill.

"People will clump in front of Kingsley, and me, if we don't keep them moving. The way it works is the guests will get to Kingsley, and if they get stuck, he will hand them to me. Then they say so honored, drop names, want to talk about their last trip to l'Anse, so you will let me say, "Do you know my cousin Lissette?"

"Then I grasp their hand with both of mine, remove my right hand, pass them to you with my left and break eye contact. Now they're yours. You say, 'So very pleased you could come.' Alright so far?"

"Yes, your…" Lissette got no further.

"Ma'am will do, between us," said Caroline. "Then one of the Delacours ought to be there and their job is to take delivery and escort the guest inside the tent, get them someone to talk to, make them happy, come back and do it again."

"I guess, yes Ma'am," said Lissette. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Always a first time," Caroline said. "You'll do just fine. You're looking very beautiful tonight, by the way. I meant to mention it first thing."

"I'll do a good job for you," Lissette said.

"Of course you will, and after tonight, you'll be able to do it for the next hundred years, if you stay interested," Caroline assured her. "Oh, one more thing, you're sure to get a curtsy or two from witches who don't know the fine points. Just be gracious and accept it. 'So very pleased you could come.' Got it?"

"So very pleased you could come," Lissette repeated.

Caroline and Lissette traded 'So very pleased you could come,' a few times before Caroline nodded. Caroline passed on one additional bit of official wisdom from her lifetime of experience.

"Ten minutes before you're needed on the line you should be standing up from the toilet. Make sure you have one in mind that you can count on. We don't need competition between the ladies at that point in the evening."

Fabio and Kendra were pre-staged in the tent so the first few guests would have a conversation waiting for them, thus getting rid of that awkward standing around stage. Tracey had gently drilled the families, even speaking French with Fleur and Victoire, the better to work her charms. The result was a fast, efficient receiving line, from Iolanthe's bouquets to Lissette, the pullers and the stroll to the tent.

Daphne decided early on that her evening dress would not include gloves. She was the hostess and claimed it was her prerogative. She was cagey about her decision with everyone except Tracey, to whom she admitted she was seizing the occasion of Samhain to let witchery see her as Lady Black. There would be old witches present who would recognize Lady Black's signet. Challenges lay ahead. She'd be sending a subtle message, but one sure to be received by anyone with discernment, that Harry Potter had claimed his consort and wouldn't be fighting alone.

"It's odd," Tracey said when Daphne gave her reasons. "It's odd that I can love someone so much and yet find them so scary."

"You're talking about me?" Daphne asked.

"Of course," Tracey said. "Who else would I be talking about?"

"There's Harry," said Daphne.

"Harry I can keep a safe distance from," Tracey answered.

James was looking for Dartmouth, and beyond that the great black expanse of the Channel, as they flew south. It was surprisingly easy to spot Potter Manor in the dark, from above, due to the great tent that began at the patio and stretched across the back lawn toward the woods. From above it looked like a great, butter-yellow lozenge due to the interior lights.

"Over here," said James, indicating the side toward the woods, away from the house.

James led the way to where the main path entered the woods. He stopped and looked back at the tent, taking note of the Jack O'Lanterns that outlined a walking path from the tent's opening.

"I didn't know they were doing this," he said, pointing at a huge pumpkin sitting on the ground. "I wonder if I grew these? Plum ought to be this way."

James led the way into the woods.

"We'll see if we can find Plum, then chat him up, then get right back to Hogwarts."

"Do you know the way?" Moira asked.

"North?" teased James.

Plum, along with a significant number of woodland cronies was hanging around the bonfire. Plum greeted James effusively. James introduced Moira to the woodlanders, who crowded around to greet the exotic visiting witch from the isles.

"Will you stay for the bonfire? It won't be long," Plum assured the humans.

"We've got a few more minutes," James said as he looked at his watch, confident he and Moira could easily get back by lights out.

Inside, Iolanthe stood at her station, a shy smile on her face. Iolanthe didn't know if it was true or not, but she really did feel like she was glowing. Kendra hadn't said anything in the library, but the light in the hallway must have been just right, because when Iolanthe picked up the first marigold corsage and looked at Kendra, her grandmother had reached down and grabbed Fabio's hand, hard.

"Fabio," she began, but didn't finish.

Fabio knew exactly what Kendra meant. A little downward look and the half-smile was all Lily Evans, eerily, nearly forty years after her death. When she looked up, perhaps with a little toss of her head, chin lifted, Astoria appeared.

"There's some magic," Fabio assured Kendra, "Just for you."

Kendra accepted her bouquet.

"Watch your makeup," she said and leaned toward Iolanthe for a no-contact kiss. "We love you, dear. What a fine young witch. Fabio?"

"Oh, I concur, of course," Fabio said. "Now, we're going to work, Iolanthe, so we'll see you later."

Kendra and Fabio were the first couple to go through the line, a warmup, of sorts. Then the line went to work. Daphne hadn't expected the number of older witches who dropped into curtsies, nor the old wizards who reverted to some ancient tradition she'd missed growing up, took her hand and kissed it, lowering themselves all the way down until they had one knee on the floor. She used both of her hands to bring them back to full height.

"How nice to see you, have a wonderful Samhain," she'd say as she handed them on to Harry.

"Thank-you, Mother, thank-you," said the old wizards.

Lissette picked up her cues just as Caroline predicted. She listened carefully for the herald's mutterings to Kingsley and Caroline, so they got all the honorifics right—Lord, Lady, Ambassador, Chairman, Healer—and Lissette marveled at the herald's layered knowledge. Once in awhile he stepped around behind Caroline and gave Lissette something, like, "The parents of your housemate Claudia," and Lissette was bold enough to ask, "You're Claudia's parents? Delighted, so glad you could make it."

Caroline's century of service and experience showed up as she sensed a dropping-off of intensity in the receiving line. She took advantage of a little gap to lean over to Lissette.

"Almost done, if my count is anywhere close to accurate. Are you holding up?"

"I can make it," Lissette assured her. "You do this all the time? I don't know how."

"Well, dear, it's work," Caroline said. "The tools of statecraft, even if one is the head of a small place that isn't even on the map, are all based on contact. Hospitality, protocol, visits back and forth, it's all done to facilitate the business we have to do with each other. Once we approach it that way, everything else falls into place. Just another day at the office. You're doing it right now, and you're just a beginner."

Caroline handed another guest off to Lissette.

"So pleased you could come," she said as Fleur took the couple in hand.

The last guests passed through and the Potters led the VIPs into the tent. Everyone stood and listened to a little welcome from Daphne, after which Harry took the floor and seconded Daphne's greeting before he introduced Kingsley. The Minister went on for a bit longer mentioning two or three notable events in the history of relations between the magical administrations of Britain and l'Anse des Sorciers, before concluding with a personal welcome to Caroline.

Caroline kept her remarks short, primarily thanking Daphne and Tracey for the fete and recognizing her cousin, Lissette Lestrange, for her valued help and assistance.

Dinner was appropriate for the time of year, with lots of squash and pumpkin dishes and the use of black and orange in every way imaginable. James and Moira, meanwhile, were enjoying the woodlanders' Samhain around the bonfire.

"We're going to have to go," James said, reluctant to spoil the fun but calculating they'd have to fly fast to get back to Hogwarts in time to avoid heavy penalties for being out of bounds.

Moira knew he was right but hated to leave. She found the woodlanders delightful. They didn't have fauns or bowtruckles either one on her island. Every time one of them did anything she learned something new. She'd even gotten a nice braid with accents of twig and moss, compliments of three friendly bowtruckles.

James ran into Iolanthe as he emerged from the woods, Moira just behind.

"James Greengrass, I'm going to put you to work lighting Jack O'Lanterns," declared Iolanthe. "Got your wand?"

"Oh, we have to get back," James said.

"A little late for that, my Hufflepuffs," said Iolanthe, flicking her wand and lighting up a few more Jack O'Lanterns.

"James Greengrass, and…friend," said Daphne as she walked up behind Iolanthe. "So pleased you could make it tonight. Have you eaten?"