"The Hobgoblins have been practicing in the Gryffindor common room," said Venice, holding her gold-varnished nails up to the light, and inspecting the effect.

Maddy dragged her attention away from her own discomfort. "Who?"

"Stubby Boardman's band," said Karima. "They're actually getting quite good. Tristram Scabior says they're going to play at the Hog's Head next Hogsmeade weekend."

It was Wednesday after lunch, and they were gathered in Myrtle's toilets during the break before afternoon lessons. Maddy had spent the last four days reading through the book Indira Patil had given her, and thinking over the new ideas it and Indira had presented to her, but she was still no closer to finding a solution to her problem.

"Is Scabior the one who wears sparkly eye makeup sometimes?" Ravenna asked.

"A boy who wears makeup?" squealed Myrtle, delighted. "Is that allowed?"

"It's a muggle fashion," said Venice. "He calls it 'glam'."

Maddy frowned. "Isn't Scabior a pure-blood?"

Karima shrugged. "Does it matter? Lots of wizards adopt mugglish styles. Especially if they're into music. There just isn't that much popular wizarding music to choose from."

"I suppose," said Maddy. "It seems dodgy, though."

"Scabior's a dodgy bloke," said Venice. "I heard he's into ... you know, 'recreational' potions."

"There used to be a girl who came in here to do secret potions," said Myrtle. "She died, but she never came back here to haunt. I suppose she thought she was too good for my toilets."

"Speaking of potions," said Maddy, attempting a casual tone, "I heard Madam Pomfrey brews a potion to keep girls from having babies."

"I've heard that rumour, too," said Ravenna. "Dunno if it's true."

Venice wrinkled her nose. "If it were, people would probably be doing it all the time."

"Would you?" asked Maddy.

"No," said Venice. "I'm not a slut."

"I don't use that word anymore," Maddy sniffed. "It's a tool of the Patriarchy, to keep women in their place."

The other girls stared at her.

"You're a feminist now?" asked Karima, eyebrows almost disappearing under her headscarf.

"What if I am?" said Maddy defiantly. "Women should have solidarity with each other, or men will keep oppressing us."

"You sound like Lily Evans," said Venice. "Where is this coming from?"

"You believe in solidarity?" Karima said sceptically. "Even with muggleborn witches? Even with muggle women?"

"Even with ghosts?" added Myrtle.

"You don't even like your roommates, Maddy," Ravenna pointed out. "And most of them are pure-bloods."

Maddy hunched her shoulders. "You don't need to like someone to have solidarity with them," she grumbled. "At least, I don't think so."

"So, if one of your roommates was in trouble, you'd stand up for her?" asked Karima. "You wouldn't tell her it was her problem, and then come here and gossip with us about it?"

"Maybe," said Maddy defensively. "Maybe gossip is a tool of the Patriarchy, too. Maybe other people's lives are their own business."

"So, what, then?" frowned Venice. "We'd become a study group?"

"Or a book club?" suggested Ravenna. "We could read Freya Lovelace's books, and write stories about them, like Maddy did that one time."

"I don't have any school work, and I can't read books!" Myrtle whined. "I like gossip!"

"You wouldn't like it much if we gossiped about you," Maddy snapped. "Who are you, Myrtle? Are you a pure-blood or a mudblood? What've you ever done, apart from spying on people in the bath?"

"Maddy!" cried Karima, shocked. "What's got into you?"

Venice winced. "Oh, here we go ..."

"HOW DARE YOU?!" shrieked Myrtle, eyes and mouth stretching wide with spectral fury. "YOU THINK BLOOD STATUS MEANS ANYTHING TO A GHOST?! I DON'T HAVE BLOOD ANYMORE, BECAUSE I'M DEAD!"

The other girls ducked and cowered as Myrtle swooped about the room, her outraged wail reverberating off the tiled walls, but Maddy stood up, wand in her fist.

"THAT'S RIGHT!" she bellowed over Myrtle's cries. "NO ONE COULD EVER GOSSIP ABOUT YOU, BECAUSE DYING IS THE MOST INTERESTING THING YOU EVER DID! YOU'RE JUST LUCKY WE WERE WILLING TO PUT UP WITH YOUR ENDLESS WHINGING! SILENCIO!"

Myrtle's howls of rage ceased. The ghost girl performed one more soaring loop of the room, gave Maddy a murderous look, and dove head-first into the toilet bowl of the first stall. A wave of dingy water exploded behind her, rushing over the tiled floor. With squeaks of alarm, Maddy and the others grabbed their book bags and fled, leaving a pile of soaked cushions behind them.

"Well, I hope you're satisfied," said Ravenna testily, brushing off her robes. "We may never be able to go back in there. What is up with you lately, Maddy?"

"Maybe I don't want to hang around in a toilet with a whiny ghost anymore," grumbled Maddy.

"That was our place," said Venice. "I can't believe you did that, Maddy. Where are we supposed to go now?"

Ravenna looked at her watch. "It's almost time for afternoon lessons. We'll discuss this later."

"Maybe if Maddy apologises to Myrtle -" Karima began.

"You apologise to her, if it means so much to you," Maddy snapped. "I never want to see her nasty, spotty face again!"

She turned and stormed away.

By the time she reached the Potions classroom, Maddy was out of breath. The room was empty. She had been in such a hurry to get away from the others that she was early for her lesson. That was for the best; she needed a moment to cool down.

Maddy chose a desk at the back of the classroom, and took out her Potions textbook, trying to look as if she were reviewing the material.

But as her anger faded, anxiety took its place. What had possessed her to blow up at Myrtle like that? Myrtle, who loved to gossip, who knew so many of Maddy's darkest secrets, and now might tell any or all of them to Maddy's friends. Assuming Myrtle was still willing to speak to them after what had happened. All things considered, it was in Maddy's best interests to ensure that Myrtle never spoke to any of her friends again.

Maddy shifted in her seat, her mind returning to her main problem. No good could come of her having anymore outbursts in front of her friends. She could not put off resolving the hex much longer. As her classmates drifted into the room, Maddy took out a sheet of parchment, quill, and ink, and began doing sums.

There were fewer than four hundred students at Hogwarts, half of them boys. Although she thought it possible that she could intimidate a younger boy into doing her bidding and keeping his mouth shut, Maddy ruled out anyone below their fourth year as being too young to serve her purpose. She could also not quite bring herself to consider anyone whose blood purity was in doubt.

Maddy frowned at her scribbles. If her sums were correct, that left only about two dozen options - thirty at most - in the entire school, who might be suitable candidates to help her break the hex.

At the front of the classroom, Professor Slughorn was saying something about the potion they were reviewing that day, and that it might well be the one selected for their Potions OWL. Maddy looked up, feigning attentiveness, but covertly considering her classmates.

When she glanced at the desk beside her own, here eyes lit on Rabastan Lestrange, grinning at her. The tip of his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips.

Maddy jerked her gaze away, grinding her teeth. That was one option she would never consider.

There were two other Slytherin boys in their year whom Maddy knew to be pure-bloods - Noel Avery and Evan Rosier - but both were Rabastan's close friends. She could not choose either of them; Rabastan would know before the day was out. Of the other two, Severus Snape was a half-blood, and although Gilderoy Lockhart claimed to be a pure-blood, he was well-known for exaggeration and embellishment, so Maddy could not be certain.

Would a Slytherin from another year be any safer than one of Rabastan's roommates? Some of them were his friends, too. What if she chose someone, only to later find out he was a cousin of the Lestranges or the Blacks? But discounting Slytherins altogether meant eliminating a substantial number of known pure-bloods.

A different House might be better, and a different year. Maddy did not want to have to face whoever she chose every week in her lessons until they left Hogwarts. Perhaps if she chose a seventh year ... That might be ideal, since he would be gone from the school in five months, and she need never see him again. But how many pure-blood seventh years from other Houses did Maddy even know of?

There was Alaric Shacklebolt, from the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was tall and good-looking, but he was seeing Florence O'Mannan, the Gryffindor captain, and she would probably seal Maddy in a cupboard with a bludger if she found out.

There was Xenophilius Lovegood, the odd Ravenclaw boy Ravenna had been so keen on. Her cousin said they had split up, and that they only ever kissed, but what if she somehow learned that Maddy had done it with him? The ex-boyfriends of friends and family were supposed to be out-of-bounds.

The only other seventh-year Maddy could think of was the Head Boy, Frank Longbottom, but she suspected trying to seduce him would be a bad idea. He, too, had a girlfriend: Alice Finch. Maddy's eyes darted unwillingly back toward Rabastan, recalling that she was not the first pure-blood girl he had made his plaything.

What Maddy wanted more than anything was to find someone who did not know her, and whom she would never have to see again, after. If she could only get to Hogsmeade, perhaps there would be some chance of that. Men looked at her in the village from time to time. If she were to offer a smile in return for such attention, who knew what might happen? But the next Hogsmeade weekend was nearly a month away. Maddy could not wait that long.

Commotion jolted Maddy from her thoughts. Her classmates were standing up, taking out their cauldrons, queuing up at the storage cupboard for potion ingredients. Maddy realised she did not even know which potion they were meant to be brewing.

"Hey, Yaxley," said Rabastan, under the noise.

Maddy ignored him, hurrying away to join the ingredients queue. But he was right behind her.

"The deal's still on the table," he murmured, close enough that she felt his breath on her ear. "Stop playing games, and let's finish this. It will only take a minute."

Something brushed her backside. Maddy tried to disregard that, too, but her senses would not cooperate. She could smell him. The odor sent her reeling back through a hundred lurid memories. She could picture his body. His parts. His erect penis nudging at her. Her cunt twitched hungrily, and Maddy's stomach turned. She took a half step forward, swallowing heavily.

Trying to focus on anything other than how close he was to her, she stood on her toes, trying to see what ingredients the students ahead of her in the queue were taking. Fortunately, only a few jars stood open on the narrow counter inside the cupboard. When Maddy's turn came, she quickly scooped a little of each into her cauldron, ignoring the hand on her bottom as Rabastan crowded into the cupboard behind her.

She elbowed rudely past him on her way back to her desk. Dumping the ingredients onto the scarred wooden surface, Maddy scrutinised them, thumbing through the index of her Potions text in search of a familiar draught or elixir which included lovage, scurvy-grass, and what looked like sneezewort.

Rabastan's cauldron clattered onto his desk. Maddy's jaw clenched. She concentrated furiously on flipping to the Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts section of her textbook.

"You've got the wrong end of the wand, Yaxley;" he muttered, "I'm impressed that you've held out for this long. I thought you would've caved the first week back. I dunno why you're making such a big deal over this."

"Oh, don't you?" Maddy hissed, not looking at him, as she began meticulously chopping lovage leaves. "You're trying to force me to do it with you against my will, and you don't see why it's such a big deal?"

"C'mon, Yaxley," he said. "We used to have fun. You liked all those things we did. Don't act like you didn't. And now, what? You change your mind over some stupid hex? I know women are supposed to be fickle, but you're acting mental."

"If I were you, I wouldn't call someone 'mental' when they're holding a knife, Lestrange," spat Maddy.

Rabastan chuckled. "Oh, so now you're going to stab me? That doesn't sound like nearly as much fun for either of us as my idea."

Maddy's teeth ground together. The worst of it was that a small part of her wanted to just give in to his urgings. To find somewhere private after the lesson, and get it over with. All she had to do was say 'yes', and her torment would be a fading memory by suppertime. But then Rabastan would own her. The thought of belonging to him and his odious family was even more unbearable than being trapped for weeks at the edge of release.

"I will never do it with you, Lestrange," Maddy hissed. "Not you, and not anyone who's related to you either."

Rabastan looked amused. "Then you're going to have to fuck a mudblood, aren't you? All pure-blood families are related."

Maddy eyed him defiantly. "I'd rather do it with a troll than you."

"I didn't know you liked them so big, Yaxley. Maybe you could try it with the gamekeeper. I think he's part troll. But wouldn't you rather have a good pure-blood man?"

"A 'good' pure-blood man who sucks off his own brother?" asked Maddy.

All trace of amusement left Rabastan's face. "Keep your voice down. You don't want to cause a scene."

Maddy glanced around the Potions classroom at her mumbling, chopping, page-turning classmates. No one appeared to be paying them any mind.

"Afraid I'll spill your dirty little secret?" she whispered. "People already know you're a creeper, Lestrange. What will they think when I tell them I've seen you on your knees in front of your brother? Or that you stick it in your house-elf?"

Rabastan's expression was all the proof Maddy needed.

"What makes you think - you wouldn't dare -" he sputtered.

"Why?" said Maddy, feeling reckless. "Because you'll tell everyone I'm a slut? People already think that, too. The only reason you haven't shot off your gob yet is because you need me. Because no pure-blood family of good repute would let someone like you anywhere near their daughters."

"You think I couldn't get another girl if I wanted to?" sneered Rabastan. "I picked you because I liked you. But if you're going to act like a cunt, maybe I'm not interested anymore."

"Oh, no," gasped Maddy, feigning distress. "What will I do if you and your hypocrite family don't want me anymore? You talk so much about purity and honour and reputation, but you're all having sex with each other, and pretending it doesn't count unless a penis goes into a vagina. So don't act like you're better than me, because you're not."

Rabastan's face darkened with rage. "Now, you listen to me, slut -"

"Mr Lestrange, Miss Yaxley," Professor Slughorn swept up the aisle toward them, grim-faced. "I hear a great deal of whispering, but I don't see much potion preparation happening."

Maddy ducked her head, cheeks flushed. "Sorry, Professor." Had Slughorn heard anything of their conversation? Had anyone?

Rabastan composed himself with visible effort. "My apologies, Sir," he said with forced blandness. "Yaxley's prattling distracted me from my work."

The Potions master looked back and forth between them, mouth tight. "If you have personal matters to discuss, I would appreciate it if you did so on your own time. Mr Lestrange, please take one of the unoccupied desks at the front of the classroom."

Without another word, Rabastan gathered up his cauldron, ingredients, and textbook. He shot Maddy a dirty look behind Slughorn's back as he departed, mouthing, Maybe he'll fuck you.

Maddy did her best to control her expression, though her face was hot with rage and humiliation. She blinked at the Potions master as winsomely as she knew how.

Slughorn gave her a kindly frown. "Miss Yaxley, I would appreciate it if you would come to my office after your final lesson today."

Maddy's eyes widened. "Sir?" Had he overheard her conversation with Rabastan after all?

"You're not in trouble, Miss Yaxley." Slughorn attempted a reassuring smile. "Consider it a routine check-in with your Head of House. Now, you should have just enough time to complete your potion, if you get to work on it straight away."

Bobbing her head agreeably, Maddy bent to her work. Her mind was only half on the greenery under her fingers. The rest of it was turning over the beginnings of a new idea.

Perhaps Rabastan had only meant it as a joke, but a member of the Hogwarts staff might be the perfect solution to Maddy's problems. A professor might well be susceptible to the charms of a pretty young girl, and would never be able to speak of it after, for fear of losing his position. The idea was much more appealing than giving one of her peers power over her. Carelessly lighting a fire under her cauldron, and tossing in handfuls of herbs, Maddy considered her options.

Professor Slughorn was old, and so was Professor Holmes. Professor Midgen, the head of Hufflepuff House, was even older, and Professor Binns was dead. Professor Flitwick was so tiny that Maddy worried his prick might not be big enough to break the hex. Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures master, was missing a leg and half an arm, and if the stories could be believed, his cock as well. Maddy did not have the nerve to even consider Headmaster Dumbledore, who was at least as old as Slughorn. Professor Tingrie, who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, was an appealing possibility, since the position was rumoured to be cursed, and no teacher lasted more than a year in it, but it was one of Maddy's worst subjects, and she did not think the Defence master liked her much. That left only the caretaker, Filch, who was a squib and hated students, and the gamekeeper, Hagrid.

Maddy's eyes lost focus and her mouth went dry at the thought of Hagrid. He was huge. Perhaps ten feet tall. How big must his cock be? How long and how thick? She glanced down at her forearm, her sleeves pushed back out of the way of her work, and flexed her fingers into a fist. She had a sudden vision of herself, lying on her back, legs open wide, something blunt and massive pushing its way slowly into her, stretching her, filling her ...

She shook herself, snapping her mouth shut to hide the shallow, shaky gasps of her breath. It was too absurd to think about. Rabastan was not the only one who had heard it rumoured that Hagrid was part troll. Even if Maddy dared to approach him, the simpleton would never be able to keep it to himself, and then she would be a laughingstock - ruined, perhaps in more ways than one.

Her eyes drifted to the front of the classroom, where the Potions master sat behind his desk, reading through a pile of scrolls. Slughorn might be old, but he might still be the best option Maddy had. And in just a few hours, she would be alone with him.


In the draughty corridor, Maddy peered into the mirror of her powder compact, checking her appearance one last time. Her long, dark hair was woven into a loose plait, fastened with the clip Karima had made. A lipstick she had stolen from her mother's collection darkened her lips. She frowned critically at herself, dabbing a little powder onto the tip of her nose. She wanted to look appealing, not terrified.

At last, she straightened her robes, steeled herself, and knocked at the door.

"Come in," called the Potions master.

"Good evening, Professor," Maddy said demurely, lowering her eyelashes.

"Ah, Miss Yaxley. Please, have a seat."

Maddy took the chair across from him, as Professor Slughorn shuffled through a few sheets of parchment on his desk and cleared his throat.

"I've had reports lately that you've seemed distracted in lessons, and that your marks are slipping," he began gravely. "I must admit, I have noticed a decline in the quality of your work since last term."

"I'm sorry, Professor." Maddy blinked at him prettily. "I'll try to do better."

Slughorn frowned. "I don't tend to concern myself much with the personal lives of my students, but as your Head of House, your wellbeing is my responsibility. I am aware that you had an ... involvement with Mr Lestrange, which has recently come to an end. I know such events can be upsetting, and that you might not feel comfortable discussing it with a stuffy old man, but perhaps you would like to talk to another woman. Madam Pomfrey, for example, has a great deal of experience counseling young women. Or I could arrange for you to chat with Professor McGonagall."

"It's very kind of you to offer, Sir," said Maddy, "but I don't feel like talking to anyone about that."

The Potions master favoured her with an encouraging smile. "Very well. I am here to offer you whatever support you need, to get you back on track for your OWLs. And I must also remind you that careers advice is coming up in just a couple of months. You should be thinking about your plans for the future."

That startled Maddy. "Girls have to do that, too?"

Slughorn nodded. "Headmaster Dumbledore has instituted a new rule that everyone must undergo careers counseling. The world is changing, and we want you to be as ready for it as possible. Of course I understand that, for many pure-blood girls, their primary goals revolve around marriage and children, but it never hurts to have a backup plan."

"You want us to be empowered," said Maddy, thinking of Indira.

"Yes, precisely," Slughorn beamed. "I'm pleased that you understand. We want to empower you to have the best chance of success after you leave Hogwarts."

Maddy bit her lip. "I do want to get married," she admitted quietly. "And I want to have children."

She gently laid a hand on her belly, and looked up at Slughorn with wide eyes.

"My mother doesn't want me seeing boys my own age. She says I should wait, and marry an older man, who can look after me, and teach me the ways of the world."

Slughorn cleared his throat again, looking mildly discomfited. "Yes, well. That is indeed something that many young women do."

Casting her fate to the wind, Maddy leaned forward, emphasising her bosom, and favoured him with her most inviting smile. "I've always thought you were so clever and kind, Sir. Have you ever been married?"

"It is not appropriate for students to ask their Heads of House personal questions," blustered Slughorn, turning red.

Maddy's hand rose to cup her breast. "We don't have to be 'appropriate' if you don't want to, Sir. I wouldn't tell anyone. You must get lonely, spending all your time with other professors. When you called me here today, I thought -"

The Potions master stood up, seeming to swell to twice his normal size. "Miss Yaxley!" he thundered. "You will cease this absurd behaviour at once. I am your schoolmaster, and your Head of House. You will maintain decorum in my presence, or I shall be forced to call a meeting with the Headmaster and your mother, to determine an appropriate course of action."

Maddy stared at him, feeling as if she had been punched in the gut. Then she burst into tears

"I - no. Please, Sir," she sobbed. "I didn't mean it! I don't know why I said those things. Please don't tell my mother!"

Slowly, Professor Slughorn sank back into his chair. He passed a large handkerchief across the desk to Maddy, eyeing her warily.

"Please, compose yourself, Miss Yaxley."

Maddy took the handkerchief with gratitude, and buried her face in the lavender-scented cloth to hide her mortification.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she said meekly. "I don't know what came over me."

"Many students find OWLs year to be a stressful time," said Slughorn, struggling to regain his own composure. "And you would not be the first student to feel an ... attachment to a schoolmaster. Such things are not uncommon. But, flattering though it may be, I would ask you to keep any such feelings to yourself."

"Yes, of course," sniffed Maddy. "It must be the stress. OWLs. I-I haven't been sleeping properly."

"Rest is every bit as important as revision," said Slughorn sagely. "I advise you to see Madam Pomfrey for a sleeping draught, if nothing else."

Maddy peeked at him over the folds of the handkerchief. "Are you going to tell my mother?"

Slughorn shook his head. "If your schoolwork improves, we'll say no more about it. I see no reason to trouble her. For now."


She could not wait any longer. Maddy knew that now. Her mother, her friends, Slughorn - it was obvious to everyone who knew Maddy that all was not right with her. Frayed nerves were making her reckless. How many more ill-considered moves could she afford to make, before blowing up her whole life?

Rabastan's family had stolen her ability to choose whether or not to have sex, but Maddy knew now that she was not powerless. The choice of whom to break the hex with was still hers. She wished she could choose someone who would shock her tormenters, and make them regret what they had done to her. But that was fantasy. Once the hex was broken, the Lestranges would guess that Maddy was no longer a virgin, but if they did not know the identity of her accomplice, perhaps Maddy could pretend that she had found another solution.

The best she could hope for was to find someone whom she could intimidate into keeping his silence. Maddy might not have arrived at this juncture by choice, but she refused to be a passive party to her own ravishment. She would find someone, and demand what she needed of him, and he would comply, and then they would never speak of it again. Her options might be limited, but she only needed to find one.

Maddy frowned in concentration as she poured from the large teapot into two delicate cups, watching the tea leaves swirl and dance. Did they hold any answers for her? Maddy doubted it.

Carrying the steaming cups carefully back to her seat, Maddy found the Divination master waiting for her.

"I didn't see your essay on comparative symbolism in dreams and omens on my desk, Miss Yaxley."

Maddy ducked her head. "I forgot to bring it, Sir."

Professor Holmes frowned. "See that you submit it by the end of the day. If it's any later, you will only receive partial credit."

"Yes, Sir."

Maddy watched Holmes walk away, idly wondering whether she should consider him an option, or if that would only go as poorly as it had with Slughorn. If she were going to approach him, surely, as Divination master, he already knew. Since he gave no sign of anything amiss, Maddy had to assume she was not about to proposition him. That was probably for the best. Holmes might report her to Slughorn, and then Slughorn would definitely tell her mother.

"Is everything all right?" asked Peter Pettigrew.

Maddy shook herself, turning back to her Divination partner.

"I was just thinking they should give us biscuits, since we're having tea."

"Crumbs affect the reading," said Pettigrew. "I learned that the hard way. Thought I was going to be devoured by a dragon, but it was just the soggy end of a biscuit."

"Oh."

"Did you actually forget the essay, or haven't you finished it yet?"

Maddy scowled at him. "That's none of your business, Pettigrew."

Pettigrew cowered. "Sorry. Sometimes I turn things in late, and tell the professors I just forgot. Divination's one of my best subjects, though, if you ever want someone to revise with ...?" he trailed off hopefully.

"If you're trying to get into my knickers -" Maddy warned.

His pale blue eyes went wide. "I didn't mean it like that! I just thought you might like someone to revise with. I know you've had a falling-out with your friends."

Maddy glanced across the classroom, to where Venice and Karima sat, their heads bent together over their teacups.

"That's none of your business either," she grumbled.

"I know," said Pettigrew sheepishly, "but I couldn't help noticing it's been weeks since you partnered with either of them. Or maybe you just like my company?" he added, attempting a weak joke.

Maddy narrowed her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I know what it means when a bloke asks a girl if she wants to 'revise' with him."

Pettigrew held up a hand, as if taking an oath. "I swear on my father's grave, I only meant 'revise'."

She sipped her tea, and gave him a considering look. "All right. Let's say I do want someone to revise with."

Beaming, Pettigrew took a swallow of his own tea, accidentally slopping some of it down the front of his robes. He brushed at them ineffectually, looking embarrassed.

"Um, what about Sunday?" he said. "I have a - a thing tomorrow night, and there's Quidditch on Saturday. I'll probably need a nap after that. But I'm free all day on Sunday."

"I don't really follow Quidditch," said Maddy. "It's too cold to be outside at this time of year, if you don't have to."

"I know it," said Pettigrew, "but James has to be there, so we're turning out to support him. Anyway, it's nice to have something to do on a Saturday now and then, and it's boring hanging about the castle when everyone else is out."

Maddy stared at him. "Who are Gryffindor playing?"

"Ravenclaw. It should be a good match, if the weather isn't awful."

Ravenclaw. Slytherin would have been better, but still, it was something. A mostly-empty castle. The school's population distracted. It was the best opportunity Maddy could hope for.

"I'll probably be revising on Saturday," she said. "I have some work I need to catch up on."

Swallowing the last of her tea, Maddy turned the little cup upside down on its saucer, letting the last few drops drain away. Pettigrew hurried to copy her, passing his cup and saucer across the desk.

Turning over her cup, he peered at its contents, frowning. "Um, there's a sort of blobby shape, with a bit coming off the bottom of it that looks like a root," said Pettigrew. "Maybe a bush? Something to do with Herbology? No, it's never that literal."

Maddy watched him covertly as he consulted his textbook. Pettigrew was too short for her tastes, and not very good-looking, but apart from that, he was almost ideal for Maddy's purposes. From what she could recall, he was a pure-blood, but not closely related to the Lestranges or the Blacks. While it was true that one of his close friends was a member of the Black family, it was said that Sirius Black was not on good terms with his relatives. Perhaps best of all, Pettigrew was timid. A well-placed threat might be enough to assure his silence. And if it was not, would his friends even believe him?

The wheels of Maddy's mind turned over. Pettigrew's friends would all be at the Quidditch match on Saturday. Was there some way Maddy could contrive to separate him from them? Could she find some excuse that would lead them both to a nearly-empty Gryffindor Tower? All she needed was to get him alone for a few minutes. She doubted he would require much convincing, once she made her intentions plain.

Maddy stared into the depths of the little china cup, eyes unfocused, all her attention fixed on piecing together her plan. It was a moment before she realised Pettigrew had asked her a question.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking of something else."

"I said, 'do you see anything in mine?'" he repeated.

She glanced carelessly into the cup once more. "That looks like a bird. Those are meant to be good luck, aren't they?"

"Unless it's an owl," said Pettigrew.

"Well, I don't think it is," Maddy informed him. "And this - this looks like a key."

Pettigrew frowned, tilting his head. "Does it? Looks more like a stick to me."

"I'm sure it's a key," said Maddy confidently. "That means an opportunity coming your way. So, you should probably watch out for that. Seize the day, and all."

"Yeah, OK," said Pettigrew, giving her a puzzled look.

At the end of the lesson, Maddy pushed the cup and saucer toward him.

"I got the tea things out, so you have to put them away. It's only fair."

Pettigrew did not argue.

As soon as his back was turned, Maddy quickly swapped their Divination textbooks. She shoved Pettigrew's copy into her book bag. It was not much of a plan, but it was all she had.