Hours after Remus had departed from Bellinghall Station, Lily and I sat in my bedroom, hair braided, cups of half-full butterbeer beside us. It was nearing midnight, and we had spent the past few hours talking, laughing, and doing our best not to violate the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic. To be safe, we placed our wands on my bedtable to try and deter the temptation. This wasn't Hogwarts, after all.

"What happened between you and Remus today?" Lily asked for the tenth time that night. "Come on, Amber, you can tell me."

I rolled my eyes. "And like I've been telling you: it's not something I want to talk about right now."
But Lily gave me her famous are-you-serious look and put her hands on her hips. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Sighing, I covered my face with my hands, embarrassed. "It's really bad."

"Well, it's not like you kissed him or anything." Lily joked. When I didn't answer her, she gasped. "Merlin's beard, did you?"

Mortified, I gave a tiny nod. Lily screamed.

I waved my hands frantically, silencing her. "Shhhh! My mother will freak out!"

Lily clamped her hands over her mouth, bright green eyes wide. Sure enough, Mum knocked on the door a moment later. "Hey! Quiet in there or I'll make you sleep outside!"

Lily and I giggled. "Okay, Mum. Sorry!"

She shuffled away. Lily stifled her giggles, cheeks flushed.

"She's as bad as Filch!" Lily whispered.

"Worse." I corrected grimly. "Filch only knows our names. Mum's got a sixth-sense like a Seer. She knows everything. Come on, turn off the lights so she thinks we're asleep."

Lily extinguished the lights and conjured up glass Mason jars. I dropped little blue flames into them that I created with my wand. Remus had taught me the spell last year, which he could do easily but had taken me over a month to master.

"You two actually kissed." Lily repeated, sounding amazed.

I rolled my eyes, heat rising to my cheeks. "It was a mistake. It wasn't romantic or anything, so don't give me that look. We're going to pretend that it never happened, alright?"

But I could tell by the twinkle in Lily's eyes that that was the last thing she was going to do. "Who made the first move?"

"Lily." I said sternly. "It never happened."

Lily made a face. "Oh, come on. I can tell you two have been dying to kiss each other for at least a year. Spill!"

But I was adamant. The hurt from Remus's firm stance on friendship without moving beyond the platonic boundaries still stung. "No, Lily. I'm sorry, but it's just something I'd rather not talk about right now. We're still friends, and it was just a mistake. Moving on. Okay? Promise me."

Lily made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat. "Fine, have it your way, I promise. But he wasn't your first kiss, was he?"

"No, that honor belongs to Nicholas Charme, when we were six and his friend Alex Perkins dared him to kiss me on the playground. And that's all I'm going to say. Okay?"

"Fine." Lily sighed, but I knew she wasn't going to let it go completely. Eventually, she would gnaw at that bone again.

"So what do you and those Gryffindor blokes get into at school?" Lily asked casually as she painted bright pink on her toenails by the dim light of the blue flames. "You've never really told me."

I peered closely into her passive face. "Why the sudden interest in what I get up to with them?"

"No reason." Lily said lightly.

"It doesn't have anything to do with James Potter, does it?" I asked bluntly.

Lily missed her big toe nail completely and smeared pink polish against her second toe. "No."

I smirked. She replied a little too quickly and forcefully for me to believe her. "Alright."

She trained her irritated gaze on me again. "I'm serious! I just wonder what the five of you get up to, that's all. Maybe it's the same kind of stuff Sev gets into."

Fat chance. I wanted to say, but instead I spared her feelings and shrugged. "Maybe."

Lily cleaned up her toes and finished applying the second coat of polish. "You won't tell me, will you?"

I rubbed my right wrist absently, remembering the flame-like burn of the Unbreakable Vow sealing itself into my flesh. Do you promise to keep our secrets and remain loyal, even unto the threat of death? James had asked. I do. I had said.

"Sorry, Lily," I said grimly, "there's somethings that I just can't share. It's nothing bad. Nothing you need to worry about, at least. We aren't running off to Folsom to get Dark Marks or anything."

"I get it." Lily said, but she sounded slightly affronted. I wanted to confide in her, but I knew that if I did, the Unbreakable Vow would charge a high price: my life.

Disturbed by the flow of my thoughts, I steered them in a more positive direction. "I think I know what I want to become when I finish Hogwarts."

Lily's face lit up. "Really? Wait, let me guess: an Auror? No, a professor at Hogwarts. Professor Harkstone? It has a nice ring to it."

I laughed. "Actually… I was thinking about becoming a professional Quidditch player. I could play for England."

Lily's mouth opened in a small 'o'. "Oh, Amber, that's perfect! I can't believe I didn't think of that. You play so well, even better than Potter. I think it's brilliant!"

I grinned at her. "Well, I'm glad you like it. I think I could make it, if I keep practicing and stay persistent. I wouldn't be surprised if Sean was offered a spot on some team. He said he'd really like to play for the Falmouth Falcons. He's the one who taught me how to play, after all."

"Well, he may have trained you, but I think at some point, training ends and natural talent takes over." Lily said thoughtfully. "I think I'd like to be a professor, personally. Like Professor Smith. I want to teach."

"That's great, Lily!" I said, meaning it. "I didn't know you liked to teach. You'd be excellent. What subject would you want?"

Lily grinned sheepishly. "Potions, actually. I'm really good! It's my best subject. Only Sev is better, but I think he's losing his touch, personally."

"Brilliant! So I'll be a player for the English National team and you'll be a Potions professor at Hogwarts. I'll win England the Quidditch World Cup and you'll find a cure for werewolves. Between the two of us, I think we'll have it made."

"Without boys!" Lily crowed. "They're so overrated. I'm going to help you get over Remus."

I pushed against her playfully. "And I'm going to help you get away from James."

Lily laughed again. "Sisters before misters."

We clanged together the last of our butterbeer and drained them. I was careful not to swallow the Mandrake leaf that had been in my mouth for three weeks now - in another week, I could finally remove it. It was part of the long process that would eventually allow me to become an Animagi. It had been nearly two years since James had first conceived the idea; Sirius had already achieved it. James predicted that he would need at least another year before he could master it. Peter looked even bleaker, with another two years or so to go if he really tried.

I intended to beat both of them to the punch.

"But, really," Lily said, seriously, "are you alright? You and Remus?"

I gave her a half-hearted smile. "We will be."

She nodded encouragingly. "And now, you're free to date Mr. McDreamy. You know, Sean Locke."

Laughing, I climbed into my bed and tossed an extra pillow at her. "Good night, Lily."

"Good night, Amber."

The summer wore on. June melted into July and August, which warmed up to a blistering heat that forced me to abandon any hope of wearing jeans and reduced Naomi and I to wearing flowy sundresses that let our hot skin breathe. It wasn't as sultry as London, since we were much higher above sea level, but the sun beat down in typical summer-fashion until we retreated to the nearby river and ponds to seek refuge. I took my first paid job as a lifeguard and spent almost every afternoon overseeing the village's pond. Day after I day, I sat perched in the high white chair, applying and reapplying sunscreen while the locals and their guests swam in the green-blue depths of the small loch. I took advantage of the long hours of watchfulness and concentrated on the complicated spell that involved becoming an Animagus, my wand clutched in my hand almost at all times.

I could feel changes in myself as I worked to complete the process. Sometimes I felt like my skin was being touched by many invisible fingers. Other times, I would black out for minutes at a time, coming back to reality and wondering at the blanks in my memory. The book Sirius had loaned me, The Beasts Within Us, assured me they were normal side-effects of the transition and proof that the process was working. However, one morning when I looked into the mirror, I let out such a loud scream of terror that Dad came running in, white-faced with his wand drawn, ready to tackle a Death Eater or Lord Voldemort himself. But it wasn't Dark wizards that had me so worried: my bright brown eyes had turned completely yellow. My black pupil was still where it should have been, but the white was gone. Instead it had turned yellow. The rich tawny color was eagle-like and both abnormal and beautiful.

"We're going to St. Mungo's." Dad had said at once as he stared at my reflection, horror-struck.

I whirled around, immediately defensive. "No!" I said too quickly. If I was examined by professional medical wizards, they would know for certain what I was up to and what had caused my eyes to change. And the last thing I wanted was to be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic for trying to become an underage, unregistered Animagi. I forced myself to calm down. "I mean, no. It's fine, Dad. I'm sure it'll go away on its own. It's probably just a Vitamin C deficiency. I'll eat more fruit."

Dad looked at me suspiciously. "This isn't some kind of spell gone wrong, is it?"

I shook my head vigorously. "No, of course not. What spell would change my eyes like this, Dad?"

He didn't answer right away, but pursed his lips. "If your eyes aren't back to normal by tomorrow morning, we're going. Whether you want to or not."

"Alright." I conceded, waiting until he shut the door behind him. Then I immediately summoned Sirius's book with Accio and hastily skimmed through the chapter on physical side-effects.

It turned out that a simple draught of suppressives consisting of toadspawn and ginger would solve the eye-problem. I hastily put together the potion with ingredients left over from Potions class and forced the nasty concoction down, restraining myself from vomiting with great exertion. As disgusting as the solution was, it worked. My eyes returned to normal, no longer eagle-like. But it didn't stop me from checking my reflection much more often, terrified it would happen again.

It made me wonder what I would become, once the process was complete. Some kind of bird of prey? A wolf? Or would the transfiguration reflect my Patronus and enable me to become a griffin?

Excitement replaced the fear and revulsion. As the days and weeks slipped by, I anticipated the final product of my hard work. Beating James to the punch would only sweeten the victory.

Remus and I continued to converse by owl, but less frequently, and I noticed that both of us were painfully polite and formal in our exchanges. One particular letter, written two weeks after 'The Incident', went like this:

Dear Amber,

I am pleased to hear that your continued efforts in becoming a fully-fledged Animagi are flourishing. I am curious as to discover what your alternate form will be. Personally, I favor the idea that you will become either a lion or an eagle.

I have completed my summer homework and would like to give you fair warning that Professor McGonagall's required reading of Chapters One through Nine are particularly grueling. I would advise you not to operate heavy machinery whilst doing so.

I had had to snort at that line. That had been the end of his brief but cordial correspondence. He had signed it as he usually did: Yours Truly, Remus J. Lupin. I privately wished he meant it, that he was truly mine, but I had to move past the persisting denial and get on with my life. We were just friends, and that's what we were going to remain. No matter how much my heart rebelled against my mind's resolve.

As the summer wore on, more stories popped up in the Daily Prophet. Most of them were about lootings and disturbances caused by a group called the Death Eaters, who were also accused of a handful of more violent crimes that involved kidnapping and deliberate torture. Miraculously, no one else was killed thus far, save for Angelina Azadian, whose cause of death was never released to the public.

People were disappearing, however. And not just wizards. A few Muggles were vanishing without a trace from their homes, and the Daily Prophet was citing Lord Voldemort's hatred for non-magical people for the cause. Every day that passed by, he evaded capture by officials and remained elusive as ever. And every day, it seemed that more stories about Muggle/Wizard interactions were happening all across Great Britain, and there seemed to be no stopping it.

Because of this, Dad worked constantly. I didn't know exactly what was going on, but I knew he was worried. His thick golden hair was thinning and he was losing weight. Clearly, whatever efforts the Ministry were utilizing was failing. Lord Voldemort and his followers were not stopping. In fact, from what I could tell, they were getting stronger.

The summer was blazing by. Before long, my fourteenth birthday was fast approaching. During my last day as a thirteen-year-old, it was business as usual. I was lifeguarding, bored, and ready to go home and freshen up. After finishing a four-hour shift lifeguarding at the pond, I was relieved by Silva Higgs, the pretty seventeen-year-old Hufflepuff who also lived in Bellinghall. I noticed, with bitter envy, that she always seemed to have to rescue male victims every day, particularly those in our own age group, whenever she had duty. I had yet to save anyone. People seemed much more prone to leg cramps or drowning when Silva took her seat in the white chair.

I scowled as a cute teenage American wizard called for help in deep water near his able-bodied friends, and Silva obligingly charged effortlessly into the water. Turning my back to the scene unfolding behind me, I padded into town and headed for Mum's latest project, which was slowly but assuredly transforming from a pumpkin into a carriage. The derelict building had been sagging, as if a giant had once tried to use it as a couch. It had also been distinctively dirty and in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. Now, the wood had completely been replaced, the interior gutted, the windows repaired and the yard cleaned and pruned. Currently, Naomi was busily applying a new coat of sky-blue paint to the exterior of the recently-redone cedar siding. She was still a few years away from obtaining her first wand at Ollivander's in Diagon Alley, and even if she had one, she would still be too young to use magic outside of Hogwarts. It was a rule that I, too frequently, broke.

"You missed a spot." I said as I dipped my finger in the can of blue paint and dabbed it on the tip of her nose. Naomi squealed and went cross-eyed trying to spot it.

"Hey!" She cried. "No fair! Hey, you got sunburned again."

I sighed. It was an unfortunate side-effect of being descended from strong Scottish breeding stock. "Yes, but look. I'm tanning too. See?"

Naomi looked dubious. "Yeah, you're definitely browner than you used to be. But you're red, too." She giggled. "Did anyone drown today?"

"Not for me." I sighed, thinking of Silva's record number of saves. "Is Mum inside?"

Naomi nodded and continued to paint. At her age, she was an exceptional artist, and her work rivaled that of what I'd seen from the upperclassmen at Hogwarts in the art studios. "It looks good, Ny. Not a single splash or miss."

Naomi grinned. "I'm going to be an artist."

I ruffled her brown hair, slightly mussing up her double braids. "That's my girl. Hey, hand me that twig over there. I have something to give you."

Frowning, Naomi obeyed. I took the twig in one hand and pointed my wand at it. Then she gasped as the twig slowly transformed into a pale pink rose.

"That's so beautiful, Amber! I wish I could do magic!" Naomi bubbled as she took the flower reverently from my hand. "I'm going to plant this and it'll grow right outside Mum's new bakery!"

Laughing and loving how easy it was to please my youngest sister, I caressed her dark brown hair once more and said, "I'll see you in a moment, alright?"

"Okay!" She squeaked, and went back to her dutiful painting. "Happy early birthday, Amber!"

My smile faded as I faced the small building. Filled with slight trepidation, I entered the small building. It was no longer filled with dust, but now bright sunlight streaming in from the clean windows. The shiplap walls were scoured and ready to be decorated with pictures or vines. I spied Mum in the back, prying off sections of wall with a crowbar.

Frowning, I approached her. "Hi, Mum."

Mum ceased working, straightening up and turning. She had flecks of sawdust in her hair, and there was a clear line of smudge across one cheek. She smiled when she saw me. "Oh, there you are, dear. You've burned again."

Rolling my eyes, I sighed heavily. "Yes, I know. I'm trying to tan, I really am. Isn't your mum supposed to be French or something?"

"Aye, but you're only a quarter French. Most of your blood is Scottish, lass."

"Remind me to thank Dad for that." I said dryly as I watched Mum set down her crowbar. In spite of my original doubts, Mum had done a fantastic job in restoring the long-vacant building. Her wand was lying on the now-clean counter inches away from me. My own wand was with me at all times, for safety and for the continuous spell that would enable me to become an Animagi. "You know you can use your wand to do the work, right? I mean, you're allowed."

"I know." Mum replied, wiping her sweaty brow with the back of her gloved hand. "But there's much more satisfaction in good manual labor. It's a labor of love."

"Right." I said skeptically. I favored the wonder of magic, especially the usefulness of Charms. I tapped my wand against my thigh, causing me to wince. Mum and Naomi were right: I had crisped again.

"Come here with that." Mum fussed. She picked up her wand and lightly touched my burning skin. "Innovia."

At once, the irritation faded. I sighed in relief as Mum replaced her wand on the counter and leaned against the doorway. I surveyed the damage. "So, what are you doing, anyway? Trying to make a window?"

"Breaking down the wall, actually." Mum said. She spread her hand to indicate to the back room, half-exposed by the broken wall. "I'm going to expose the kitchen completely and have a partition divide it from the dining room. It'll be a simple bakery with a few tables for people, if they want to have coffee and pastries here instead of taking it to go. It's all coming together quite nicely, really."

I smiled. "It looks great, Mum. Naomi loves it too."

Mum laughed. "Yes, well, she's always been eager to make a creative mess. We should open by the end of August in a week or so, just in time for you to return to Hogwarts."

"Hard to believe I'll be a fourth year." I said, trying to sound casual, but I felt a stirring of alarm. Already, my education at Hogwarts was halfway through.

"Aye, and you've done well." Mum said. "I know I have high expectations, but that's only because I know what you're capable of. I know you must think I can be an overbearing prat, but it's for your own good."

I folded my arms across my chest. "Remind me to thank you after I leave the nest."

Mum laughed once, but I felt a slight drop in the temperature, as if a cool wind had blown through. Neither of us had forgotten any of our clashes over the years. Mum removed her gloves and looked away into the kitchen. "Your grandparents are coming to visit tomorrow for a week. They want to be here for your birthday."

I lifted my brows in pleasant surprise. "Which ones?"

"My parents. Granny and Dey. They'll be here around noon. They're taking the train into town. I'll be picking them up with Naomi, if you wouldn't mind tidying up the house."

"Of course." I said lightly. I surveyed the small building, in the throes of restoration, and wondered what Virginia would have been like today. She would have been thirteen this coming October, on the 5th. She would have been a Hufflepuff, if she had been well enough to attend Hogwarts. "Remus and Lily are arriving by the noon train tomorrow too. Remember?"

"Right, that's good and well. I'll cook up some kale and haggis." Mum went on as she put her gloves back on.

"I'll make spinach quiche." I offered. "I don't eat meat, Mum."

Mum blinked. "You don't? Since when?"

I stared at her. "Since I was seven." Surely she must be joking.

But Mum shook her head vigorously. "Are you sure, dear?"

I studied Mum closely. "Are you feeling alright?"

Mum sighed. "I've got a headache. Probably too much work." She sighed and took a long drink from her water flask. "Why don't you run along home and start on your chores before the guests arrive?"

Uneasy, I nodded once. "Alright, Mum. I'll see you later."

Humming, she went back to tearing wooden planks off the wall. Still filled with uncertainty, I left her to her work and passed by Naomi, who waved enthusiastically at me.

I paused beside her, frowning. "Hey, Ny… did you notice anything strange about Mum?"
"Huh?" Naomi asked, fixing her green eyes on me.

I folded my arms across my chest. "Does she seem a bit... forgetful to you?"

Naomi shrugged. "I thought she was always that way."

I glanced back at the small building. "Not always," I muttered, before heading back to the house to prepare for the arrival of the birthday guests.

The house was vacant and mercifully quiet when I arrived home. Romulus barked at me joyfully from his usual post near the horses, startling several chickens into half-hearted flight. I smiled as I entered the yellow bungalow, my mind already focused on the thought of becoming a new, separate entity. Even though I didn't need to have it at the forefront of my mind in order for the transformation to work, it did help speed up the process. All that was required was the constant focus in the back of the mind.

But the desire to outpace James and Peter made me diligent, and I set about to making minor adjustments to the house as I contemplated. I straightened up the afghan in the basket near the sofa and fluffed up throw pillows. I frowned again at the absence of Virginia's face among the family photographs and traipsed into the small kitchen. I sang softly with the radio as I rolled out and flattened a ball of flaxen dough, dusting my fingers with snowy flour. As I preheated the oven, my thoughts drifted back to the warm summer day when Lily and Remus had come to visit. They hadn't been here together since. Tomorrow would be the first time.

I beat the eggs a little too forcefully in a tin bowl when I remembered the waitress who had deliberately flirted with Remus. As I added feta cheese, tomatoes, and spinach to the egg mixture, Gylfie - Lily's barred owl - swooped inside of the kitchen through the open window and stared at me expectantly from the kitchen table. I abandoned cooking for a moment only to take the letter, but didn't bother penning a response immediately.

"Another time, Gylfie," I told the owl, "I don't have any post for you."

Gylfie gave me an offended look and took off out through the window. I always wrote back to Lily promptly. This was the first time I hadn't done so. I left the letter on the table as I poured the mixture inside of the two pastry shells and pushed them into the oven, setting the timer for an hour and a half. Now, Mum wouldn't have to worry about the cooking. Lunch would be ready-made for tomorrow.

Humming, I opened the small refrigerator (most of our electrical appliances were from Dad, due to him being Muggle-born) and withdrew a chilled gilly water and sat down at the table, ready to open the letter, when a second owl flew in. But it wasn't Percival, Gylfie, or Soren. I had never seen this particular owl before, a bark-colored screech owl, which deposited its letter from its beak and left before I could even rise from my chair.

Frowning, I picked up the second letter. The return address was a simple but elegant gold 'M'. I tore open the envelope and pulled out the slightly stiff parchment tucked inside.

Dear Miss Harkstone,

This letter is to inform you that we have received intelligence that you have been performing magic outside of school on various occasions in your home. The latest instance was recorded to be the usage of the Regeneration Charm at approximately four-fifteen this afternoon.

As you know, underage witches and wizards are not permitted to use magic outside of school. Though the Ministry has expressed leniency in the past, we have exhausted our inventory of chances on your behalf. Continued spellwork on your part may lead to suspension or expulsion from your school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C) and other disciplinary actions. Consider this your final warning.

Enjoy your summer holiday!

Sincerely,

Mirabella Porter

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

I looked up from the letter, at a loss.

What had just happened?

I reread the letter, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I chewed on the edge of my thumbnail, the sinking feeling growing with every sentence.

So, the Ministry really had known of all of those times that I had been performing magic outside of school. Even in Muggle-free Bellinghall, the Decree still presided.

But why hadn't they acted before? Was it because of my age? Was this one of the consequences of becoming older? And if they could detect underage magic, such as the Regeneration Charm I'd used on the broken twig, did that mean that they could also uncover the fact that I was currently attempting to become an unregistered, underage Animagus?

Swallowing hard, I hurried up to my bedroom with the two letters and quickly shut the door behind me. I turned the lock and drew the curtains to make sure that I wasn't going to be watched. Then I opened Lily's letter and read her quick correspondence.

Dear Amber,

We are taking Tuney to Bridges University in London next Saturday. She says she can't wait to leave. I'm going to miss her so much, but she won't let me get close to her. I wish I knew how to get through to her. Tell me how your mum's new bakery is coming along! You told me that she was planning to open soon - am I allowed to have free food?

Cheers to new chapters in life.

Sincerely,

Lily

I snatched up a quill and hurriedly scrawled out a response, wishing I hadn't sent away Gylfie so quickly.

Dear Lily,

I've just received an official warning from the Ministry of Magic's office of Improper Use of Magic. Have you ever received one of these? I'm afraid to tell my parents. I wonder if Dad already knows because he works at the Ministry himself. They said I could be suspended from Hogwarts or worse. Do you know why they are cracking down on underage magic all of a sudden?

It's my birthday tomorrow. At least that's a good thing. We can talk more then.

Love,

Amber

There was nothing I could do but wait until my own owl returned from wherever he was right now. Swearing, I sealed the letter and threw myself moodily onto my bed, the springs squeaking loudly under my weight. I stared at the Ministry's letter lying on my desk, filled with misgivings.

Why had they never sent a letter before? Maybe they had, but it had gone straight to Mum or Dad. But then, why hadn't they said something? They knew it wasn't legal for me to use magic outside of school. Yet they hadn't admonished it as of late.

I flipped on my side and parted the curtains slightly, scanning the sky for any sign of Soren. Nothing. Groaning, I let the lace curtain swish back into place and grabbed for one of the several books on my bedstand. The Song of the Phoenix by Natalie Chaddesley was a fiction novel concerning a young witch who found herself raising a phoenix after running away from her home to Hungary. I tried to lose myself in the plot but it was impossible to shake the feeling of ill-boding that the letter had brought.

At last, Soren returned. He had a dead vole in his beak, his pitch-black eyes glittering like the night sky.

"About time." I said waspishly as I hauled myself off my bed, squeaking the mattress again. I tied the letter to his leg, which he extended so hastily that he had to flare his beautiful wings to regain his composure. It wasn't fair of me to snap at him. After all, he was my only link to Hogwarts during the holidays and my sole form of communication between my friends. But I was tired and feeling defensive and scowled at the limp brown vole in his beak.

"Don't eat that in here." I told him in a disgusted tone as he shifted his dinner in his beak, as if he had been about to try to. "Deliver that to Lily and make sure she writes back. Thanks," I added gruffly.

Soren gave a muffled hoot and glided back out of the window. The sun had set nearly an hour ago, but the faint indigo of dusk persisted against the black outline of jagged mountains. I watched him retreat against the pale skyline until I couldn't make out his outline anymore and returned to bed.

Later when I had finally fallen asleep, I dreamt that I was flying. Unaided by broomstick, I soared between the high ridges of the mountains of Hogwarts, beating strong wings to keep me aloft. The rush of cool wind over my face made me climb higher in the skies, until a huge bronze dragon dropped in front of me, blasting me with blue-red fire.

I woke up, sweating again. It was late morning, the clear blue sky rich as a robin's egg. I hoisted myself out of bed and promptly collapsed on shaky legs, knees hitting the cold hardwood floor of my bedroom. Gasping for breath, I shut my eyes and breathed in heavily, trying to calm my racing heartbeat.

There was sharp rapping at my door. "Amber?" Mum said, her voice muffled. "Are you alright? I heard a crash."

"I'm fine, Mum." I managed, trying to make my voice sound as normal as possible. Mum must have believed me, because she didn't ask again.

Shaking, I located the book The Beasts Within Us and quickly found what I was looking for: symptoms of becoming an Animagus. It was in the middle of the book, closer to the end, and read: Side-Effects of the Transformation.

In all cases of becoming an Animagi, the witch or wizard will undoubtedly experience several of the following markers of irrefutable changes occurring within themselves: vivid nightmares or dreams of nature (including underwater or aerial), temporary physical changes (such as hair or feather growth), feelings of weakness or dizziness (especially after awakening), loss of speech, sudden fluency of animal-tongue, and periods of memory loss. All of these will cease upon the witch or wizard completing the transformation into a fully-fledged Animagi. The symptoms are merely growing pains that are only temporary.

Sighing in resignation, I closed Sirius's book and rested it back upon my shelf full of other books, including my textbooks for the upcoming fourth year of my Hogwarts education.

How did Sirius do it so quickly? I wondered glumly, rising to my trembling legs a moment later. I navigated my way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, feeling better after I freshened up. I dressed in a white-and-blue striped sundress and fastened a white belt around the waist to cinch it together. I plodded down the narrow stairs, surprised to see Mum bustling busily about, looking expectant but hassled.

"Oh, good, you're up." Mum said briskly as she flitted in and out of the living room and kitchen. "I let you sleep in since it's a special day. Happy birthday, dear." She pecked me quickly on the cheek and ducked back into the kitchen.

Bemused, I watched as a feather duster cleaned up the shelves and picture frames by itself in the sitting room. A rag and a bottle of bright blue liquid were also washing windows without any human assistance. I blinked in astonishment as furniture scooted out of the way as a vacuum cleaner sucked its way across the floor, also unaided.

"Mum," I said as I followed her into the small kitchen, "I thought you wanted me to do the cleaning so you could go shopping with Naomi at the market and pick up Granny and Dey."

"Oh, did I?" Mum asked distractedly. "Well, no matter, anyway. I have too much to do. Besides, it's your birthday. My first babe is fourteen years old!"

I watched her stuff an empty sheep's stomach with pluck with a nauseated expression. "Mum, I already made quiche for the family. Besides, Granny and Dey will be here in an hour. So will Remus and Lily. Why are you making more food?"

"We need more." Mum replied briskly as she pulled out a fresh tray of biscuits from the oven. There were over two dozen and she was feeding more into the oven.

I stared at her, feeling the first hints that I wasn't fully aware of what was going on. "How much are you cooking for us? There's only a few of us."

"That's a lot of people!" Mum said as she danced through the kitchen, stuffing the stomach until it swelled like a balloon about to burst.

"There's eight of us." I reminded her. "Plus Remus and Lily. So that makes eight."

"And the family." Mum added as she finished stuffing the gigantic lump of meat and started twisting the ends shut.

I stared at her, sure I'd misheard. "Mum, you said Granny and Dey were coming. Not the whole family."

"Well, it's a special day! It's your birthday. We need to celebrate. Excuse me, dear, I need to stuff another sheep stomach. We're going need at least three haggis to feed everyone. Would you mind passing me that bowl of sheep's pluck?"

Wordlessly, I handed Mum the contents of the bowl - minced and spiced sheep organs - and hurried from the room.

The whole family. At least twenty hungry, loud Harkstones here, plus my two best friends, who had no idea what doom was about to befall them.

The doorbell rang. "Darling, would you answer that?" Mum yelled from the kitchen. "That'll be Charlie, Ryan, and Connor with the marquee."

Shutting my eyes, I opened the door, resigning myself to my fate.