Chapter 5

Muggle Life

The view was breathe taking from the top of the Eiffel Tower and the city of Paris twinkled in all its' magical glory. Timothee leaned against the railing, staring out into the vast city lights that seemed to go to the ends of the earth, while the occasional camera flash dotted the green sprawling lawns below. He had snuck up to the top of the Eiffel Tower like he had done so many times before, always when there was no one else to see him practice his magic. Timothee knew that it was illegal to practice underage wizardry outside of school, especially in the presence of muggles, but his professors reassured him that the ministry wouldn't send young witches and wizards to Azkaban for practicing minor spells.

A warm summer breeze rolled in and blew Timothee's black hair back as he whispered, "Lumos." The point of his eleven inch ebony wand illuminated a small ball of white light and then with another call of "Nox" the light was gone.

Timothee raised his wand a second time to cast a charm when he heard the sound of a door close.

"Is someone else here?" he wondered. But he knew that the security guards never came up at night. Raising his wand to call for his broom, he stopped when a woman emerged from around the corner. She had shoulder length obsidian black hair, a slender face and a black dress that danced around her lean body in the summer wind. Her eyes were a deep glacial blue that seemed to glow in the full moon that was rising in the eastern skies. She looked to be older than him, probably in her late teens early twenties.

"Oh," She said nervously, noticing that she was not alone, "I didn't realize anyone else would be up here."

Captivated by her deep blue eyes, Timothee let out a nervous laugh, "I, uh, didn't realize anyone would be up here either."

"You know this area is closed?" She said.

"I know," Timothee answered, "It's kind of why I am up here. I enjoy the silence."

"So you like to be alone too?" She said with a half cocked grin.

The way the wind blew her jet black hair across her face in the summer breeze was hypnotizing. She tucked the locks back behind one ear, and let out a small giggle. Timothee noticed smoky wisps on her rosy cheeks as she tucked a lock of hair back.

"Timothee," he said nervously as he introduced himself.

"Elawin," The woman said, taking a step forward and extending a hand.

He grabbed her slender hand and gave it a gentle shake. It was colder than his and gave him a slight chill.

"Poor circulation," Elawin said, taking her hand back and rubbing them together, "It doesn't matter how warm it is, my hands are always cold."

"It's okay. My grandmother's hands are always cold as well."

Elawin's curious expression let slip an inquisitive glare.

Timothee let out another nervous laugh, "I mean, you are old, I mean Cold! You aren't old or anything. You know, it's just that you said you have cold hands and so I figured I would… just keep quiet."

Elawin smiled at Timothee's rambling, "You're sweet."

Something about that smile filled Timothee with butterflies in his stomach. He was nervous but couldn't explain why. He'd been around girls at school, girls he liked but none of them made him feel this way.

"Could this be love?" he wondered.

Leaning against the rail and staring out into the city, Elawin let out a small sorrowful sigh.

Now, standing next to her, Timothee realized that the dark wisps on her cheeks were the running lines of black mascara.

"She had been crying," Timothee thought.

Clearing his throat, Timothee asked, "Are you okay?"

Elawin pursed her lips into a forced smile but it was fleeting as the corners of her mouth fell under the weight of whatever burdened her, "I…" she paused, "The city is so peaceful up here at night. Up here I feel like I'm in a different world. One so far away from all our day to day problems."

"It's why I come up here. I feel like it is the only place I can think."

"Can I ask you a question," Elawin queried, she looked down at her hands as they fumbled nervously on the rail.

"Sure," Timothee said.

"You ever… you ever do something unforgivable?" Elawin said just barely above a whisper.

"Unforgivable?" Timothee asked.

"Just forget it," Elawin replied shaking her head. She turned away from the teen who was taller than her by nearly half a foot. A trait he was told that he had inherited from his grandfather.

"Unforgivable," Timothee thought to himself. The only unforgivable things he knew of were curses. Curses he had learned in his third year at Pursang. But Elawin was a muggle, what could she be talking about?

"Are you in trouble?" Timothee probed.

Turning towards him and taking a step closer, Elawin laid a hand on his chest. He could feel the cool delicate hand against his beating heart as he looked her in the eyes. Those calm sapphire eyes which were so mesmerizing.

"Breakfast," Elawin said.

"Excuse?" Timothee replied, unsure of what he had heard.

"BREAKFAST!" Elawin shouted at him.

Timothee took a step back, shocked and confused by her sudden change.

"TIME FOR BREAKFAST!" Elawin shouted, her voice now in the registry of a man.

Timothee's eyes opened to a white ceiling above him. A white fan slowly spun overhead swaying ever so slightly, creating a cycling rhythmic hum in his room. Lifting his head from his pillow he looked around and remembered that he was not in France. Placing a hand over his eyes, he let out a frustrated sigh before his head fall back onto his pillow.

"Come on Bud! You don't want to be late!" Samuel called from downstairs.

Ursa stood up from the side of the bed and walked over to tap Timothee on the shoulder.

"I know!" Timothee hissed, "I'm up."

Getting out of bed he walked down a small creaky wooden hallway towards a bathroom where he checked himself out in the mirror. He was breaking out with a red spot on his chin and knew it could be one of many if he wasn't careful. His hair was blonde again, as the spell he had used to change it black had worn off. Although he had gotten it cut before he left for America, there was still a shagginess to the style that remained.

Running some warm water, he splashed it on his face as his brown green eyes gazed into the mirror for a second time, "First day of muggle school," he said to himself. He ran his finger over the rings on his silver necklace as he felt a nervousness creep up in the pit of his stomach.

After washing up, Timothee put on a pair of jeans that tapered out at the lower leg and a honeysuckle short sleeve shirt before heading downstairs where the smells of fresh cooked bacon and eggs beckoned.

The kitchen was quaint with brown wooden cabinets, avocado green appliances and hunter green floral printed wall paper. An oval table was off to one side of the kitchen whose metal legs rested on a checkered linoleum floor. On one of the chairs at the table was a grey cloth backpack with coffee leather straps and a red bow on it.

Samuel was dressed in his black professor's robes while he slid an over easy egg next to two pieces of bacon and a buttered slice of toast. Looking up from plating, he smiled at Tmothee, "You look ready. Are you nervous?"

Looking down at his clothes and running his hands over them, he nodded his head and answered in English, "A little."

"You sound great," Samuel grinned, "Practicing this summer has really paid off. Now come eat and I'll take you to school before I head over to Salem."

They sat at the table and began to eat. Timothee eyed the bag in the empty seat.

"It's nice isn't it?" Samuel noted.

"Wi," Timothee said before shaking his head, "I mean, yes."

"Mara got it for you. It's to hold your books. She wanted to be here for your first day but she had to open the bakery. She suggested we go out for dinner to celebrate your first day. What do you think?"

"That would be nice."

"It's like Mara said, muggle high school won't be that much of a change. It's all kids around your age. Sure it might be a little difficult at first but over time you will adjust and find friends."

Timothee nodded, "I know."

Timothee was calm on the outside but internally he was a mess. Change sounded easy but the summer had been one big lifestyle transformation. He missed his old friends, he missed how easy magic had made life but most of all he missed quidditch. Instead he had spent the summer watching baseball which was so slow. There was no excitement in muggle sports, no danger, no thrill!

They finished their meal and with a flick of his hawthorn wand, Samuel had sent all the dishes into the sink as a brush floated over and began to scrub them clean.

"Don't tell Mara," Samuel said as he tucked his wand back into his robes, "I would do them myself but I don't want us to be late."

Mara had given Samuel a hard time whenever he had performed magic over the summer. She said, "It wasn't setting the right example for Timothee and that if Timothee had to live as a muggle, they would too."

Mara herself was a muggle which made it easy but Samuel would occasionally slip usually when it involved some chore or house work. The sound "Ah ah!" would always call just as he would pull out his wand. It was as if she had developed a sixth sense of when Samuel was going to use his wand.

They climbed into a teal 1965 mercury comet and slowly rolled out of the garage. Pulling onto a paved road, they drove towards the town of Witchaven, New York.

"You know this road was gravel no less than a year ago?" Samuel said.

Timothee had mouthed the question in unison with Samuel as he looked out of the window. It was the same question Samuel always asked when they drove into town and somehow it seemed that he was always amazed by the muggle ingenuity.

"Yeah, it's something," Timothee said as he feigned interest.

He watched the endless forest of white birch trees that seemed to go off into eternity.

"You know they call it the Witch's Forest. White birch trees for miles and miles in every direction of Witchaven," Samuel said while Timothee mouthed it word for word.

Samuel and Mara lived in a rather isolated area just outside of the small quaint town on a road where their closest neighbor wasn't visible from the house and the town itself was a mile away. It wasn't long before the teal Mercury pulled onto the main street of Witchaven.

They passed small shops and restaurants as they drove towards town hall. Danny's Diner and M's Bakery were just a few to note. The town hall itself was an old 17th century building that stood three stories tall with white wooden siding, black shutters and a tall black bell tower on the roof. In front of town hall was a large roundabout, similar to the ones Timothee remembered in Paris. A floral garden of purple tulips surrounded a copper statue of three trumpeting angels with long flowing dresses. Their golden metallic bodies seemed to almost glow in the morning sun.

Samuel let out a long yawn as the car circled passed the 17th century building. Shaking his head, he declared, "I need a muggle coffee."

Once on the other side of the roundabout which was considered the halfway point in town, they drove through two residential blocks where children of all ages seemed to make their way in the same direction. Young kids no older than five or six held the hands of their parents or struggled to keep up with their older siblings who looked annoyed by the little person that waddled behind them.

Four large yellow buses towered above all the other cars parked in front of a large tan brick two story building with a plush shamrock green lawn. A large flag pole was planted in front with the American flag dancing in a modest breeze.

"We're here!" Samuel said as he grinned and looked over at Timothee, "Remember it is just like wizarding school."

"I will," Timothee said, a queasy feeling growing in his stomach.

"Do you want me to park and walk you in?" Samuel asked.

"No thank you," Timothee said quickly. If muggle school was anything like wizarding school, having your parents walk in with you when you were a third year would be a social catastrophe.

"Okay," Samuel said as he pulled the mercury over and put the gear in park, "Have fun!"

"Thanks again," Timothee said as he grabbed his grey cloth back pack and exited the car.

"Oh wait, take this!" Samuel said as he reached his hand out and dropped four green pieces of paper and six various coins into Timothee's hand.

"Muggle money for lunch!" Samuel shouted.

Timothee nodded with appreciation before putting the money in his jean pocket. He watched as Samuel's teal car pulled away before crossing the street and making his way towards the large tan building.

Witchaven High School was a large two story tan brick building with Greco style stone work in the front. There were four large smooth stone columns that supported a large triangular tympanum. Inside the tympanum were the carved words "Witchaven High School" with two griffins on either side. Older kids streamed into the building while the younger kids parted ways into the building across the street, "Witchaven Elementary."

Timothee felt so alone in the crowd as he approached the school. He watched as old friends reunited with high fives and large embraces. A small circular group of teenage girls crowded around one another as one girl showed off an orange and red flowered book bag.

Towards the entrance a group of older boys sat around a flag pole all wearing white jerseys with rather large blue numbers in the front. One pair of teens passed a brown ball back and forward.

Timothee's heart skipped a beat, "Was that a quaffle?" He thought for a brief second but his moment of hope was sequestered when he saw the shape. The ball was long and oval instead of round and dimpled like a quaffle.

"I wonder what game they are playing?" Timothee contemplated as he walked up the steps and into the main foyer of Witchaven High. Large blue banners dangled from the ceiling with gold dates stitched into them with the words "State Champions" at the top of each banner.

A white bearded man wearing a white button down shirt, a colorful tie and thick glasses stood near a series of double doors, and called out, "Welcome Freshman and New Students! Please report to the auditorium. Right this way."

Timothee followed the flow of students as they filed their way into the auditorium where dozens of rows of olive green folding theatre chairs descended on a sloping plane. Just beyond the chairs was an eight foot wooden stage that was hugged on either side by red curtains. The walls were also draped with long hanging scarlet curtains and a large mural was painted on the ceiling of a blue sky with a faced orange sun.

Seeing the mural made Timothee miss the enchanted ceilings of Pursang which would have had a real yellow sun burning high above.

"Please fill the front rows all the way down," Ordered a lean brown skinned man in a grey suit at a microphone on the stage. A small cluster of teachers stood to one side of the stage, each holding a sheet of paper.

Timothee found a seat five rows away from the stage and a quarter of the way towards the middle. Looking around, he noticed groups of friends sitting together sharing laughs and stories of their summer excursions.

"I wonder what Pierre, Marie and Camille were up to?" Timothee thought to himself quietly, "Did they know I wouldn't be returning to Pursang this year? Did they know I was barred from magic?" He sighed, "I miss them."

A sudden wave of sadness washed over Timothee as he realized, "I might never see them again."

"Welcome Class of 1980," the brown boxed speakers that lined the walls of the auditorium crackled, "Welcome to Witchaven High School, where the foundations for your life will be forged. I am your principal Mr. Vandigraff and in a short moment the teachers will be calling your names to report to your home rooms. Every morning before class starts, you are to report to this class room for roll call. But before we begin, I would like to say a few words."

"I heard Rocket came back this year," A boy whispered in the row behind Timothee.

"No way," Another boy said, "I was sure he was going to transfer."

"Nope," The first boy said confidently, "My older brother is on the team and he says he is actually kind of glad he didn't. They might have a chance at the title again this year."

Timothee tilted his head to listen in without trying to show his intentions.

"Who is Rocket?" A third boy asked.

"Don't ya know?" The second boy said in shock.

"Easy on him Jake," the first boy quelled, "He doesn't have a big brother or sister like you or me. Rocket is the starting quarter back on the Gryphs. Biggest kid you've ever seen."

"I'll say," The second boy added.

"So why would he transfer?" The third boy asked.

"Well, last year the Griffins made it all the way to the championship and on the night of the big game, he was a no show!"

"What!" The third boy said.

"Exactly! The backup quarterback had to play and blew it big time," Boy one explained.

Timothee turned forward while wondering, "Who is rocket?"

Mr. Vandigraff continued with a stern expression as his chestnut eyes scanned the crowd, "Students will no longer be permitted to use the tunnel from the west wing to the cafeteria. I know it is a faster way of cutting across our campus but given the senior prank last year, that privilege has been revoked. Students who choose to use the tunnel will receive an instant detention. With that being said, good luck and hopefully I don't see too many of you in my office this year."

Chapter 6

A New Record

It was eleven in the morning when Timothee found himself sitting in the small first floor office with a window that over looked the athletic grounds. The rectangular wooden desk was kept quite neat and a finely kept brass nameplate with the words "Principal Joseph Alonso Vandigraff" was placed at its' center.

A large white face clock with black numbers was mounted on the wall to Timothee's right and ticked loudly as its' red second hand snapped around in an endless loop.

"Headmaster's office on the first day…" Timothee sighed, shaking his head. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the two gold rings on his chain. His fingers caressed the encrusted gem stones before he tucked them away. Letting out a long yawn, he shook his head and hissed, "That's what got you here in the first place!"

Timothee heard Mr. Vandigraff's voice on the other side of the door as he asked his secretary, "A student already?"

"Yes," He heard the woman sigh, "So much for the perfect first day."

"It takes more than that to ruin a good day," Mr. Vandigraff replied.

The door knob turned and the door opened as Mr. Vandigraff entered from behind Timothee. He unbuttoned his grey suit coat before taking a seat at his desk. Holding a piece of pink paper, he squinted as he read slowly, "Timothee Partée?"

Timothee shook his head nervously, "Wi Monsieur."

"You're the new student from France?" Mr. Vandigraff said.

"Wi."

"Do you speak English?" Mr. Vandigraff asked as he placed the pink sheet on his desk.

"Yes."

Grabbing a pen and signing the pink sheet of paper, Mr. Vandigraff let out a long yawn as he reclined in his brown leather chair, "So why don't you tell me what landed you hear in the principal's office on the first day of school?"

Timothee reached for the rings under his shirt and rubbed them between his pointer finger and thumb, "Well you see…"

20 Minutes Earlier

"History is written by the victors, a popular quote that we see played out time and time again throughout history. From the policies of Julius Caesar to the reconstruction of Germany and Japan after World War II, it is the victor who determines the fate of the vanquished," A short balding man with a long southern drawl explained as he picked up a piece of chalk from a tray and began to scribble on the green chalkboard. His handwriting was sloppy with lots of swirls and loops.

"I am Mr. Ap-ple-ga-te," he annunciated with the chalk squeaking irritatingly, "and I will be your history instructor this year."

It was Timothee's third class of the day and he had already learned a valuable lesson, "To avoid being called on, you don't sit in the front row of the class." He felt relatively safe sitting three rows back and watched as the professor in tan khakis and a white button down shirt strolled across the front of his class.

"Professors don't wear dress robes," Timothee realized. In fact no one wore robes at all in muggle school, it was all very informal. They didn't call the professors, professors, they called them teachers. It was all lots of little changes that made this new world so different like using lockers instead of having living quarters and trunks. Another change was the use of a combination lock to his locker which almost made him late to his second class. He was so frustrated that he had whispered "Alohomora" in hopes of opening his locker but the spell failed.

History class was on the second floor and faced the eastern skies where sunlight poured into the room. The blue skies looked inviting as the calls of chirping birds slipped through the cracked windows. It was a perfect day to play quidditch.

"I wonder how the quidditch team at Pursang will do this year? Who will they find to replace me at beater?" Timothee thought as a heavy sensation started in the back of Timothee's throat, a heaviness that forced him to open his mouth. His eyes closed and all at once a rush of air rolled out from deep within. His hands balled up and his legs stretched forward as the muscles along his back tightened. It was a great big yawn.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Applegate's voice boomed from the front of the class.

Timothee snapped his mouth shut and sat up in his chair at instant attention. Opening his eyes, they met the stern brown eyes of Mr. Applegate.

"Am I boring you son?" Mr. Applegate interrogated.

Timothee looked around the room and realized that all the students were now looking at him as well. Slowly pointing a finger at himself, he asked, "Me?"

"Yes, you!" Mr. Applegate answered, "You must already know the curriculum if you can fall asleep in my class on the first day."

"I… I…" Timothee stammered, "I didn't mean to…"

"Show such disrespect?" Mr. Applegate interjected. He rested his hands on his hips and shook his head, "Everyone pull out a piece of paper and a writing utensil."

There was a collective groan as all the students plunged into their backpacks to acquiesce to the professor's request.

"It seems that I am boring you all with information you already know, Mr?" Mr. Applegate said pointing towards Timothee.

Timothee pointed to himself for a second time, "Partée?"

"Mr. Partée," Mr. Applegate repeated slowly, "Yes, and since you all seem so knowledgeable. I will give you a quiz that I expect you all to ace given your extensive experience on the subject."

Timothee felt his face turn red as a few of the students gave him dirty looks upon being instructed to take the pop quiz. He wanted to be invisible. He didn't mean to yawn, he just felt tired. It sort of slipped before he realized what he was doing.

"Three questions ought to suffice," Mr. Applegate said, "And I expect you Mr. Partée to get a hundred percent considering the fact that I was putting you to sleep. Question one, this European war took place in the 17th century and was considered one of the major conflicts that shaped our world today? It just so happens to be where this class will start."

"hmmm" Timothee thought to himself until it came to him, "I know this one!"

"Question two, in the 18th century the 13 colonies signed the Declaration of Independence which proclaimed secession from what ruling body in Britain?"

"I know this one too!" Timothee thought excitedly, he scribbled down the answer and looked up as some of his classmates seemed to be struggling. A dark haired boy sitting two rows over licked the tip of his pen before looking around the room, suddenly his face lit up as he scribbled down an answer.

"Question three, Orville and Wilbur Wright were the first to fly in what at Kitty Hawk?"

Timothee thought for a second but there was only one answer that made sense. He paused a moment before writing it down.

"Alright, pens down, pass your papers to the front." Mr. Applegate ordered.

Some students turned around to collect quizzes from those behind them while others scribbled out their answers and replaced them at the last minute.

"Pens down, papers up! If I see anyone writing now, I assume you are cheating and you will receive a zero."

Mr. Applegate collected the small stacks of quizzes from each row. He was quiet at first while he flipped through the quizzes. He shook his head as his brown eyes scanned each one. After reading the answers to a quiz, he placed it on his desk as he went to the next one mumbling the words "wrong," just audible enough for the class to hear.

"Wrong! Most of ya'll missed the first question." he said, now three quarters of the way through the stack and placed another paper on his desk. Scanning the next page his face lit up, "My, my. Our first hundred."

The students looked around the room, trying to guess who was the student that aced the exam. For a brief second, Timothee's heart jumped in his chest as he felt a bit of excitement, "I knew it!"

Holding up the paper for the class to see, Mr. Applegate called out, "Theodore Bruder!"

It was the same boy that Timothee had observed earlier. He was about the same size as Timothee with black combed back hair, blue eyes and cream colored skin. He had a few red splotches on his chin but all and all looked like a normal student.

A boy in glasses turned towards Theodore and stuck out his tongue to which Theodore responded with a sly grin.

"Let's see if there are others," Mr. Applegate said as he flipped through more exams, "You know I thought there would be more."

Flipping through another exam and placing it on his desk he stopped a second time. It was obvious that he had to reread the answers on this particular exam as he grimaced, "Mr. Partée…"

"Wi?" Timothee answered.

"Are you funning me Son?"

"I'm Sorry?"

"Do you think this exam was a joke?" Mr. Applegate said as his face turned red.

"No monsieur," Timothee replied nervously.

"Obviously we have a comedian in our midst," Mr. Applegate announced as he held up Timothee's exam, "Question one asked for the major European conflict of the 17th century. The answer was, The Thirty Years War. Mr. Partée felt the answer was, The First Goblin Rebellion."

There were a few sniggers and chortles in the class as students exchanged looks of amusement.

"Goblins?" Mr. Applegate said almost in bemused shock, "Question two asked for the ruling body that the Thirteen Colonies declared independence from. I would have accepted the British Monarchy or more specifically King George. On the other hand, I will not accept 'The Ministry of Magic' as a correct answer."

The laughter which had been restrained seemed to grow as students laughed openly. All except for the boy in the glasses who had stuck his tongue out at the boy who had received the class' high mark. Those two boys looked at Timothee with a peculiar interest. Like a person they recognized but did not know from where.

"Quiet down now," Mr. Applegate ordered, "I thought question three was a gimme but obviously I must have been mistaken. Class, what did Orville and Wilbur Wright fly in at Kitty Hawk?"

In unison, the class answered, "An Airplane!"

"Well there's hope for some of you yet," Mr. Applegate said, "Now I don't know what they teach over there in France Mr. Partée, but Orville and Wilbur did not fly on a 'Broom' of all things!"

Now it could not be contained as the class erupted into uncontrollable laughter. Pulling out a red pen, Mr. Applegate drew a large round zero on Timothee's paper before reaching into his desk and pulling out a small pink sheet. Filling it out, he brought the pink sheet and the failed quiz over to Timothee's desk.

"Now I want this quiz signed by your parents and brought back to me tomorrow Mr. Partée. And you can take this little pink slip and get your butt on down to the principal's office."

Timothee was embarrassed, more than embarrassed. He was mortified by what had happened. How could things have turned for the worst so quickly? On the first day of school of all days! What would Samuel and Mara think when they saw his quiz?

"Oh this is just terrible," he thought as he fumbled with his things and headed out of the laughing classroom, "I just want to be back at Pursang around my friends and around normal Professors!" He thought as he pursed his lips and flushed face.

The Present

"And that's how you ended up in my office?" Mr. Vandigraff said, almost in slight disbelief.

"Wi… I mean yes." Timothee answered.

"Look, it's your first day. Maybe you were trying to be funny to make some friends or you were the class clown back in your old school. I'm going to give you the same advice I give to all those who come to my office for the first time. Think."

"Think?"

"Exactly. If you are going to say something or do something, always take a moment and think how others will perceive your actions. Ask yourself, 'Will I get into trouble for what I am going to do? How will this affect my fellow students and teachers?' If you do that, I promise you that you won't have any more trips to my office. Deal?"

"Deal," Timothee said with a renewed optimism, "So no detention?"

"No detention," Mr. Vandigraff answered as he got up from his seat and opened the door to his office.

"Thank you Monsieur!"

"Hey, but you still need to get that quiz signed!"

"I promise," Timothee said as he gathered his things and headed out the door.

"Oh and Timothee?"

"Yes?"

"Mr. Applegate tends to be one of the stricter teachers in my school so I would try not to pull anymore stunts like the one you pulled today."

"I promise! Quiet from here on out."

"Good. I believe it will be your lunch in five minutes if you want to head down to the cafeteria. Give Applegate some time to cool off."

"Merci Monsieur!" Timothee said and he was gone.

Mr. Vandigraff, closed the door to his office and made an impressed expression as he repeated, "Monsieur," before shrugging his shoulders and saying, "Has a nice ring to it."

Timothee walked down the yellow hall that was lined on either side with blue lockers. The hallway was empty except for the occasional student walking to and fro from the lavatory. They carried strange objects with them as they went. One girl carried a large wooden paddle while an older boy carried a toilet seat. Each object was labeled in some form or another with bright colorful words that read "Bathroom Pass" and a room number.

"Bathroom pass?" Timothee wondered, "Why would anyone need a pass for that?" But the thought was fleeting as he made his way into the dining hall.

10 minutes later…

Five minutes had passed since the bell had rung throughout the school, signaling the end of another period. The cafeteria which had once been empty when Timothee first arrived was now full with students. Timothee sat by himself at a table as he watched students walk around with trays of lunch or small bags of food.

"Where is it?" He thought as he stared at the empty round table before him. He could smell the food ever since he walked in but it hadn't appeared yet. Looking around, he didn't see any elves delivering the food, "How did muggles get their lunches?"

A loud gurgling sound rumbled from deep within his belly, causing Timothee to place a hand on his stomach.

"The food is not just going to magically appear," A girl with brown hair, brown eyes and a short orange flower dress said cheerily.

Timothee looked up from his stomach, surprised that another student was talking to him, "It doesn't? How exactly does one get food then?"

She laughed, "You're funny. The line starts over here. Come with me, I'll show you."

Timothee took note of the way her button nose scrunched when she laughed. It was cute, and so he stood from the table and followed the girl to the other side of the dining hall.

"Jena Barnwell," she said, looking back over her shoulder. Her long brown hair fell down to the middle of her back and slowly swayed from side to side as she walked.

"Timothee Partée," he replied.

"You're accent, is it French?"She noted.

"Wi."

"I've gone to school with most of the kids here since kindergarten. Witchaven isn't that big ya know? So you recognize a new face fairly quickly. Did you come from a big school?"

"It was pretty big. We actually lived at school."

"Oh, so you went to boarding school."

"Something like that."

"I've always heard about boarding school. Was that here in the states or overseas?"

"It was back in the South of France."

Jena's eyes lit up, "South of France! I heard it is beautiful there. I always wanted to go."

They found the end of the line and waited as it slowly snaked through a corridor and towards the clattering sounds of an active kitchen.

It was the first time Timothee had talked to someone who wasn't a teacher or the headmaster. In fact it was the first time in months he had talked to someone who was actually around his age.

"So where do you live?" Jena asked.

"I live with Samuel and Mara Redd," He answered.

"Oh, They are relatively new here as well. They moved to Witchaven a few years back. I love M's Bakery. Every Wednesday my mom picks us up a few of her cupcakes. I didn't know they had a son."

"Well, I'm not actually their son."

"Studying abroad?"

"No… I… well it is complicated."

"Divorce?" Jena asked, her inquisitive expression disappearing as fast as the words came out, "Sorry. You don't have to answer that. Sometimes I talk too much. So how do you like America?"

"It is different."

"Different, as in good or different as in bad?"

"It's…" He hesitated. What he really wanted to tell her was that he missed his friends, he missed his school, his broom, his owl Minuit and most of all he missed magic. There was no way he could tell her that without looking out of his mind and so he kept it in and just nodded, "It's different."

Jena entered the lunch line and turned towards Timothee, she looked as if she was going to say something and paused.

"Wi?" Timothee said.

"Um," Jena replied.

It was a brief pause but long enough for Timothee to feel a sudden rush of anxiety of not knowing what to do next. Rubbing the back of his neck he looked down the lunch line, where he noticed the same two boys from his history class. The boy with the black combed back hair and the boy with the glasses and reddish brown hair. They were both standing next to each other in line and if Timothee would have known any better, he could have sworn they were both staring right at him until he took notice.

"So…" Jena said, "Oh, look at this." She pointed towards a white piece of paper posted to the wall, "Every morning they will announce what they are serving for lunch but just in case you forget or come in late they always post up what they are serving right here on the wall. Today they are serving pizza! Usually they only serve that on Fridays but it's the first day of school so they must be making an exception."

"Délicieux," Timothee said.

"How were meals served in boarding school?"

"Believe it or not we had helpers bring out the food to us and sometimes it would just sort of appear."

"So you guys had servants?"

"Elves," Timothee said.

"Elves?" Jena chuckled in disbelief, "Is that French for helpers? I think elves means something different here in America."

"You know, the small little, how do you say… helpers?"

Jena laughed, "It must have been a pretty fancy place."

"I miss it."

"I bet you miss your friends too."

"I do."

"Well it's okay, Witchaven for the most part is pretty friendly. You will make friends in no time."

They went through the line, with Timothee following Jena's lead. He ordered a square piece of pizza like she did with one large pepperoni in the center.

"If you're lucky sometimes you get two pepperonis!" she explained as she slid her tray over to the drink station that was located next to the cash register. Pulling out a dollar from her pocket, she paid for her lunch.

"That's a dollar even honey!" The lunch lady behind the cash register said. She was an older woman in her fifties wearing a blue apron and bright lime eye shadow.

"I…" He panicked realizing, "I need money for this!" He remembered that Samuel had provided him with money for lunch. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a few bills and coins and held them forward.

The lunch lady eyed him as he held out the money not knowing what to do with it. Reaching forward, she pulled out a single green dollar and placed it into the register before hitting a key which made a loud "Ka-Ching!"

"Well, I hope you like the pizza," Jena said as they walked in tandem back towards the cafeteria tables, "I sit with my friends over there," She explained, pointing to a table where a bunch of girls sat talking excitedly, "I would invite you to come sit with us but it's kind of a girls only table."

"Oh," Timothee replied.

"I mean you can sit with us if you have no one else but I just don't want you to be the only guy there."

"No it's okay, I have to go to my things anyways."

"Okay," Jena replied, "Well it was really nice meeting you Timothee. I'm sure we will have a class together or something. We have history together at least."

"You were there for that?"

"That's kind of how I recognized you down here."

"That was rough."

"Don't take it personal. Mr. Applegate is like that with everyone."

"Jena!" One of the girls called from the table.

"I have to go!" She said apologetically before walking towards the table.

Timothee watched as she walked to her lunch table and removed a bag from a seat. The two girls that sat on either side made room for Jena to sit down. Leaning over they whispered excitedly into Jena's ear and then to the other girls at the table. One of them looked back at Timothee and giggled before looking back at the others.

"In a lot of ways muggle life is different," Timothee thought, "and in a lot of ways it is the same."

He would have two more classes with Jena, French and Earth Science, where he made it a point to sit next to her in hopes that he would make a new friend.

Later That Evening

The murmur of low conversation and the clinking of silverware reverberated throughout the quaint Italian restaurant. The aromas of Italian cuisine saturated the air, making the stomachs of new patrons grumble as they waited for food.

The restaurant was located along the main street of Witchaven and had a large red sign with the words "Casa Della Nonna" painted in white cursive with a clove of garlic, tomatoes and bred on one side and a bottle of wine on the other.

Inside were seven small tables draped with red and white checkered table cloths. Only four of the seven tables were occupied but for a weekday, it was typical business for the small town. Patrons would trickle in and out throughout the night until close at 10pm. On the walls were various paintings and black and white pictures of Italy and the northern Italian town that the Rossi family had immigrated from one generation ago.

Samuel looked at the piece of lined paper that had a large red zero written on it, "Did you not understand the questions?"

"I thought I knew the answers," Timothee said as he twirled the last strand of spaghetti with his metal fork. He watched the pattern the noodle made on the plate in the few remnants of marinara sauce.

"What were the questions?" Mara asked.

"Number one was about a war in the 17th century, two asked about the ruling body of England in the 1700s and… The third was about two muggles who learned how to fly." Timothee rattled off.

Samuel looked at the paper and shrugged his shoulders before handing the paper to Mara, "Well he isn't necessarily wrong. In fact if I were to ask my class those same questions, I'm almost positive that they would probably give me the same answer."

"Yes but he isn't in wizarding school anymore Sam. He is in muggle school," She sighed and turned to Timothee and squeezed his hand, "I know this transition is going to be tough at first. You've lived in a completely different world and you have been taught to think a curtain way your entire life. It will take time to adjust, don't let a simple quiz discourage you."

"Thanks," Timothee said.

"Quiz on the first day," Samuel noted, "Better watch yourself Tim, sounds like that teacher doesn't mess around."

"I will," Timothee replied, although Timothee was keen on not mentioning why there was a quiz on the first day.

Mara took a sip of her water and tucked a brown curl behind her ear before asking, "So did you meet anyone new? Any potential friends?"

"Um…" Timothee paused, "Well I met a girl."

"Ooh. A girl," Samuel smirked as he gave Timothee a playful nudge with his elbow.

Timothee's face turned red.

"Oh stop it Sam," Mara scolded, "Does this girl have a name?"

"Jena?"

"Jena Barnwell?" Mara probed, her big almond eyes lighting up.

"I think so," Timothee nodded.

"She's a lovely girl, I know her mother Cindy. They are regulars at the bakery."

"She showed me how lunch works," Timothee said.

An old heavy set woman wiping her hands on her black apron, with short brown hair and energetic brown eyes strolled over to the table with a large smile on her face.

"Ciao Mara! The cannolis you made for us this week would have even put a smile on mama's face. God rest her soul." she greeted happily with her Italian accent dripping over every word. She leaned down and planted two large kisses on each of Mara's caramel cheeks.

"Thank you Mrs. Rossi," Mara replied, "The food was excellent tonight!"

Mrs. Rossi waved a hand in the air, "Grazie. Can I offer you some cannoli for desert?"

Mara looked over at Samuel who had a large grin on his face, "I think we will take three!"

"It's on the house!" Mrs. Rossi said as she turned to the kitchen and held up three fingers, "And who is a this strong young man?"

Samuel placed a hand on Timothee's back, "This is Timothee. He is living with us. He came from France."

"Francia! It's a very beautiful country." She said excitedly and walked over and placed a kiss on the cheeks of Timothee before pressing them together, "Any family to Mara is a family to Rossi. You come in any time if you are hungry."

Letting go of Timothee's face, Mrs. Rossi let out a long deep yawn, "Scusami, Mama Rossi has been working all day. I have to go back to the kitchen but you enjoy your dessert. Can I expect another order on Monday Mara?"

"Absolutely," Mara replied.

"Bene," Mrs. Rossi said before turning and greeting another table.

"She's so lovely," Mara said as a young waiter placed three cannolis on their table. The delicate pastry had a hard outer shell filled with cream and a light chocolate drizzled over the top.

"So, Jena," Mara said as she cracked into the shell with her fork.

"She was nice enough to show me where the lunch was, nothing more," Timothee said.

"Well, that was nice of her," Mara replied, "Did you get a chance to meet anyone else?"

"No."

"How do you like your classes?" Samuel asked.

"It will take some getting used to. There's no," Timothee said as he searched to clarify his thoughts.

"Magic?" Samuel guessed.

"Yes," Timothee realized, "I miss spells and potions and mystical creatures. I miss my friends and I miss quidditch."

"Well there are plenty of muggle sports you could try out for," Mara suggested.

"I don't have any idea how to play muggle sports. I wouldn't know where to start."

"It's okay. You will have a class called physical education which will teach you muggle sports."

Timothee nodded his head but inside he didn't want to have to change. He didn't want to make new friends or start a new school. He wanted his old life back with his old friends, his old school and his old classes. And sure there were difficult professors at Pursang like Professor Moreau and Professor Lillyhammer but at the end of the day they were a part of his world. For that simple fact, he could connect with them better than any "teacher" he would have at Witchaven high.

"How could one night ruin my entire life?" Timothee lamented silently.

Chapter 7

The Only One

The cool Parisian summer wind made the moist spot on Timothee's cheek feel cold as the wind swept over his face and ran through his hair. The golden glow of lights dotted the landscape below.

"Save her," the wind whispered in his ear as he watched the mysterious girl in the black dress turn and walk away.

"Elawin!" He shouted but it seemed as if she couldn't hear him. Everything seemed so foggy, so unclear. He watched her black dress flutter in the wind as her raven hair whipped along her back.

"Save her!" the wind beckoned a second time.

"Elawin!" Timothee pleaded. He wanted to walk to her, run to her, stop her from what she was going to do but his legs, his legs wouldn't budge. He fought to free them as he looked down, it felt as if they were bound in a leg locker curse, "Elawin please!"

Turning her head around, a single glacial blue eye met his as a tear rolled down her cheek. Her fearful gaze pleaded for him to stop her and yet she still turned towards the railing, "I'm sorry…" she muttered.

"Save her!" The wind hushed.

"I can't," Timothee cried as he watched her grip the railing on the Eiffel Tower.

A long slender porcelain leg slipped out from under the dress and onto the twisted black metal guard railing. She swayed to gain her balance as she climbed.

"Elawin!" Timothee called, "Don't!"

"Save her!" The wind seemed to howl, "Save her! Save her! SAVE HER!"

"I can't!" Timothee shouted.

"Make her stop!" the wind hushed.

"How?" Timothee shouted but just then Elawin's words seemed to echo in his head, "Have you ever done something unforgivable?"

Reaching into his robes he pulled out an eleven inch ebony wand, oh how good it felt to have his wand back in his hands. He remembered every groove, every worn spot in the handle as he gazed at it longingly. How smooth the ebony wood on the handle had become from years of use.

Elawin let out a delicate gasp as she extended her hands out and swayed back and forth over the ledge. The sprawling city was breathtaking over nine hundred feet below. At this height the people looked like small black ants as they moved about. All it would take was one gust of wind and she would be sent tumbling into the night.

"You know what to do!" A hushed voice instructed, "It's the only way!"

Timothee looked down at his wand before looking back at Elawin who struggled to stay balanced. Without warning a strong gust hit them causing her to tip forward.

"NO!" Timothee yelled.

There was a loud crack, a defining boom and a blinding flash as all the windows in the class room flew open. Timothee felt himself launch backwards in his chair and hit his head against the back wall of the classroom. His desk, along with the desks in his row, book bags, papers and pencils went flying towards the front of the class room.

"What in the world?" Mr. Applegate said, spinning away from the hunter green chalkboard. The class exploded in hushed whispers as one boy shouted, "What was that?"

Some of the kids ahead of Timothee turned around and looked at him accusingly. Just then a second flash of light filled the room, followed by the low droning booms of thunder as a late summer storm began to roll in.

Timothee rubbed the back of his head which pounded from where he had hit it, "Did I do that?" He whispered quietly. Looking down at his open palms and examining them.

"Calm down now class, it's just a summer storm," Mr. Applegate ordered as he placed a small white piece of chalk on its' tray and began to close the windows one by one, "Jonathan, Timothee, can you get those windows at the end."

Timothee nodded and stood from his disheveled desk. He swayed heavily to one side as dizziness threw him off center. Grabbing the black framed window, he pulled it down before he returned to his desk where he and the other students gathered their things that had been scattered about.

"Did I perform magic?" He thought as his eyes locked with Jena's who mouthed the words, "Are you okay?"

Just behind Jena were two other students sitting on the other side of the classroom. It was the same two boys who had been ogling him the day before. Their look wasn't one of worry but more of inquisition. It was just at the moment the bell rang over the loud speaker.

Placing his notebook in his bag, Timothee slung it over his shoulder and scuttled out of the class with the other students.

He rubbed the dull thudding spot on the back of his head as he weaved about through the slow dredging herd of students, "What did I do?" he wondered, "It couldn't have been magic, I don't even have a wand."

A strange sensation of being watched tugged at him to turn around where his inclination proved true. It was the same two boys from his class.

"What do they want?" he thought as he quickened his pace through the mass of students in the hallway. He dodged left as a girl went towards her blue locker and weaved right as a taller student, a senior in a letterman jacket, tossed a football in the air and caught it.

"Pardon," Timothee said as his French accent weighed heavily on his pronunciation. Peering over his shoulder, he was definitely being followed as the other boys kept pace.

"Oh no," He panicked, "What if they are with the ministry and sent to spy on me? What if they saw me do… well… whatever I did in the classroom and they are here to haul me off to Azkaban?"

Banking hard to the left, he leaped down the stairwell two at a time, nearly running into a teacher.

"Hey, Partée! No running in the hall!" Mr. Vandigraff shouted.

Timothee froze and gave an apologetic nod towards the principle before he realized, "Ha, I don't know what they want but they won't do anything in front of Mr. Vandigraff!"

The two pursuing boys were breathing hard as they too almost ran into the same teacher in the stairwell and received the same reprimanding shout from Mr. Vandigraff who was monitoring the entrance to the cafeteria.

They looked at Timothee from the top of the step and he looked right back at them. The taller boy with the slick black hair exchanged a glance with the shorter boy with auburn hair and glasses.

"Do we have a problem boys?" Mr. Vandigraff asked as he eyed the faceoff at the bottom of the stairwell.

All three boys shook their heads' no.

"Good. No horse play in the halls. You nearly knocked poor Mrs. Needery down the steps. Be careful."

"Sorry monsieur," Timothee said.

Mr. Vandigraff cracked a half smile before something caught his attention in the cafeteria. He disappeared through the kitchen yelling, "Hey, I thought I made it clear! Students are not permitted to use the tunnel Mr. Smith!"

The two boys at the top of the staircase walked down the steps side by side, as they approached Timothee.

"What?" Timothee asked, balling his fists in preparation for a fight, "What do you want?"

They stopped and examined him closely as if they were waiting for something to happen. And that is when Timothee realized, "They are weary of me. They don't want to fight me, they are scared of me."

Timothee relaxed his fists and let out a soft sigh of relief, "Who are they?" he thought.

The boy with black hair, blue eyes and a worn red t-shirt with yellow sleeves and faded jeans asked, "Timothee right?"

"Yes," Timothee answered.

The smaller boy with glasses wore a blue long sleeve shirt with bronze corduroys. He narrowed the distance between himself and Timothee until they were only inches away. He looked around to see if anyone was watching before whispering, "You know magic."

Timothee's jaw dropped, "How did these muggles know of magic?"

"You thought you were the only one, huh?" The taller boy in red smirked.

Timothee stammered.

"Well you're not," The smaller boy in blue said, "Maybe you should sit with us today."