'Oh!' Angela clapped in delight as Jane emerged stiffly from the bathroom the next afternoon. 'Janie, you look stunning! Go and stand with your brothers; I want a photo!'

Jane remembered Maura's whispered comments in her ear the previous day about not feeling self-conscious, and resisted the urge to cross her arms over her torso as she went to join her siblings. Frankie was looking very polished in a waistcoat and a silver paisley bowtie. He was wearing a faded pair of his father's old dress robes, which Angela had skilfully shrunk to fit. Jane was jealous of how relaxed he looked in his outfit. She was going to be spending the day trying to remember to cross her legs and eat with her mouth closed.

'Come in closer,' Angela motioned with her hand, her face hidden behind the camera. 'That's it! Nice and cosy! You three are growing up so fast!'

A puff of red smoke escaped as the picture was taken, and Jane already knew that their photo-selves would not be looking thrilled once the film was developed. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if she and Tommy tried to hide in the sides of the picture, while Frankie was left in the middle, comically attempting a look of sophistication.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in tumult, or so it seemed to Jane. Angela had four siblings, and poor Kara had been under pressure to invite the entire family: aunts, uncles, their spouses, every single one of her cousins, and grandparents, before she was permitted to even think about the friends she wanted present at the ceremony. Most of the wedding guests, being family, had decided that the suggested arrival time on the invitations didn't apply to them, and had come hours and hours before they had been asked to. Jane had tried her best to avoid the throng of relatives, but at every turn, there was an overbearing aunt or uncle that she hadn't seen in months or years.

'Is that my little Jane? Mamma mia, you've grown!' or: 'I would recognise that mane of hair anywhere! Give me a hug, my darling!' or her personal least favourite: 'Look at you, you gorgeous thing! I bet you're driving the boys mad at that school of yours!'

She finally managed to make it to the far end of the house where there were fewer people, and slunk into what she thought would be an empty bedroom.

'Jane, hi!' came a slightly frazzled voice from the en suite.

'Oh, sorry Kara,' Jane made to leave. 'Thought I'd found the last empty room in this place.'

'You don't have to go!' Kara protested quickly. 'Stay and chat. How bad is it out there? Ma said everybody's here already. I was hoping she was exaggerating.'

'Nope,' Jane shook her head, flopping back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling. 'She meant everybody. I've already run into grandma and grandpa, Uncle Bas, Uncle Ermann, Aunty Barbara, and I'm pretty sure I've seen every cousin we have except for Ludo.'

Kara only groaned in response, emerging from the en suite to sit cross legged next to Jane's head. Her hair and makeup had been done several hours earlier, but she wore an old pair of grey track pants and a red cardigan.

'Where's your dress?' Jane asked, smoothing out her own.

'Hanging up in there,' Kara nodded her head back towards a cupboard. 'It cost almost every galleon I had in my savings, and I'm afraid that if I put it on before I need to, I'll trip over and rip a hole in it or something.'

'Fair call,' Jane shrugged. This was not a fear she could relate to on any level.

'Hey, did Uncle Basilio bring his new girlfriend?' Kara asked suddenly, hungry for gossip.

'Constantina?' Jane cringed and covered her eyes. 'Yes. She looks like she's about twenty. And ditsy as all hell. Couldn't quite get her head around Pop and Frankie having the same name. Poor Ludo - maybe it's a good thing she's not here.'

Kara laughed and continued eagerly. 'What does she look like? She's Italian, right?'

'Yeah, I think he met her in Rome. Um, dark hair, blue eyes, huge tits, fake tan…'

'Hooker heels?'

'Bordering on,' Jane confirmed. 'And I'm pretty sure the shirt I sleep in is bigger than her dress.'

Kara clapped in delight. 'Never a dull moment in the Montanari clan. Merlin, I'm not going to be Kara Montanari this time tomorrow.'

'Look on the bright side,' Jane shrugged. 'It'll be harder for people to link you to Uncle Bas after tonight.'

'An excellent point,' Kara acknowledged, dipping her head. 'So, young Jane Rizzoli, tell me: how's Hogwarts treating you?'

'It's actually… pretty great,' Jane glanced at Kara and then smiled at the ceiling. 'I've made a new friend who's crazy smart, and she's been helping me push my grades up. I made the Quidditch team, I've only had one detention so far… It's… yeah, it's good.'

'I'm pleased,' her cousin smiled. 'You know, Aunty Angela wrote to me and asked if you could have a plus-one for the wedding. I was surprised when you guys turned up last night and there was nobody new for me to meet.'

'That would be Ma projecting her most desperate desires out into the universe before actually consulting me,' Jane huffed. 'The woman is insane.'

'Ah. So no boyfriend, I take it?'

'Nope,' Jane shook her head emphatically. 'My days are spent playing Quidditch and chilling with Maura, and as far as I'm concerned, those days are pretty damn good.'

'What are you doing?' Frankie asked on board the train the following afternoon, as he and Jane chugged steadily through green pasture en route to Hogwarts.

'Muggle Studies stuff. It's due on Wednesday.'

'So this is last-minute homework?'

Jane scoffed. 'Hardly. Last minute would be Tuesday night, or Wednesday morning. I'm way ahead of the game.'

Frankie surveyed the scattered parchment spread over the table that was separating them. There was only one piece that wasn't covered in Jane's scrawl, and he snatched it up to examine it.

'Hey!' Jane cried, reaching to snatch it back. 'I was reading that!'

'Maura wrote you a cheat sheet!' Frankie accused.

'It's not a cheat sheet!' Jane protested. 'It's a… suggested essay template. Is it my fault that Maura's academic suggestions are giving me kick ass grades? Anyway, what do you care? She helped you out with your Astronomy.'

'I got no beef,' Frankie held both his hands up in surrender and returned the parchment. 'What's she getting out of it?'

'My wit and charm increase tenfold when I get Es and Os,' Jane deadpanned. 'I don't know, she's just a nice person. I wanted to get her strawberries, but I didn't see a single one in London.'

'I didn't want to say it in front of Ma earlier,' Frankie said. 'But have you tried the Hogwarts kitchens? The Hufflepuff seniors go there for snacks all the time.'

'What?' Jane gave her brother her full attention. 'Seriously? I don't even know where the kitchens are. How do you get in?'

'It's on the way to the Hufflepuff common room,' Frankie gave a conspiratorial grin. 'I'll take you when we get back.'

'Where the hell's Hagrid?' Jane looked up and down the deserted Hogsmeade platform.

She and Frankie were quite alone, and it was getting dusky. Frankie continued to look fretfully around the station, while Jane plopped down dejectedly to sit on her duffel. She was cold and wanted dinner.

'Do you think he's forgotten?' Frankie asked anxiously. 'I don't want to walk back through the forest in the dark.'

'It's not on my favourites list either,' Jane muttered. 'The Hogwarts gates'll be shut now anyway. Our train's pretty late. Maybe he buggered off for a beer or something.'

A man in a black uniform with gold buttons and a royal blue robe approached them on the platform. He had a big bushy beard and a silver whistle around his neck, and Frankie made a subtle shift closer to his sister.

'It's just the stationmaster, Frankie, don't worry,' she whispered to him.

'Are you the Rizzoli kids?' the man called out as he neared them.

'Yeah, we're waiting for Hagrid. Have you seen him?'

'Aye,' the man nodded. 'He's at Rosmerta's, on account of your train being late; asked me to pass on the message. I dare say there'll be a hot meal waiting for you there, if you're hungry.'

'There's an understatement,' Jane jumped up with new energy. 'Thanks!'

The pair walked briskly down High Street, eager to escape the damp coldness that was settling in over the village. Jane led Frankie through the arched entrance to The Three Broomsticks, where lanterns were lit, and a delicious glow beckoned from the windows. As they were about to pull open the doors, Jane noticed a little chalkboard hung from the stonework, next to where the menu was displayed. "LEMON BRIEFCASE IS ON!" it read. "ALL WELCOME."

'What's Lemon Briefcase?' Frankie asked, following his sister's gaze, rubbing his hands together against the cold.

'Haven't got a clue,' Jane shrugged, hooking a few fingers through the wrought iron ring in the door, and giving a tug.

'Wasn't that ceremony just beautiful, Frank?' Angela sat dreamily in her favourite armchair with her wand dancing through the air, directing three pairs of knitting needles to manipulate yarn into sweaters.

'Yeah,' Frank shrugged from the kitchen table, where he was preparing segments of pipe for soldering. 'Sure. I liked the dessert.'

'Kara's dress,' Angela sighed. 'Oh, sweet Merlin, it was gorgeous. Did you see the detailing on it? Frank?'

'What?'

'Did you see the detailing on Kara's wedding dress?'

Frank scoffed. 'I'm a guy, Ange. We never pay attention to that crap.'

'Yet you managed to pay attention to every dessert on offer,' Angela pursed her lips.

'Yeah, well, food's a whole other broom game. Good thing, too. I ran into Atwood Stowe when I was getting seconds of cannoli, and-'

'Who's Mr Stowe?' Angela cut in. 'I don't think I know of any Stowe.'

'Sure you do, uh, Stowe and Packers, up in London. They own the bug shop.'

'The place in the Market? Above the junk shop that always smells like fungus?'

'Yeah,' Frank scowled. 'That one.'

'What was a man who sells bugs doing at Kara's wedding?'

'How the fuck should I know? I wasn't about to interrogate the poor bastard.'

'Language, Frank, Tommy might still be awake.'

'He'd better bloody not be,' Frank glared up at the ceiling, as though he could see his son's state of wakefulness through the floorboards. 'I've told him he has to degnome the garden tomorrow, for the little stunt he pulled in Diagon Alley.'

'The whole garden? Frank, that'll take all day!'

'Good,' Frank nodded stiffly. 'You're too soft on him. A day's labour won't do him any harm.'

'He's my baby,' Angela answered crossly. 'And he'll be gone off to school in just a few years. Then what'll I do?'

'Let's think,' Frank pretended to ponder for a moment, getting up to find a beer. 'You could get a job! Plumbing business is right down the damn toilet. Pun intended.'

Angela huffed, but knew better than to react. Frank had been on edge recently, and had been drinking more than usual. She knew it had to do with the lack of job opportunity. In between meagre plumbing jobs, he was pounding the pavement and combing the newspapers for work. So far, though, there had been no luck.

'So what about Mr Stowe, honey?' she plucked her knitting projects out of the air and tucked them into her sewing bag before going to offer her husband a shoulder massage.

Frank took a long drink of beer before resuming his seat at the table and going back to work on his pipes. 'Mr Stowe's got a rat problem; reckons they're coming upstairs from that clusterfuck of a junk shop. So he put out rat poison last week, but his dung beetles also got out of their glass case, or whatever the hell he keeps them in, and they got to the poison before the rats did.'

'So he's got a big pile of dead dung beetles,' Angela dug her thumbs into the knots in Frank's shoulders. 'What's that got to do with you?'

'Well the rat poison doesn't kill you instantly,' Frank explained. 'It makes you thirsty, so the rats go outside looking for water, and then die out there instead of in your house. But, the dung beetles went looking for water down the sink, and then died in the pipes. So the plumbing's all clogged up with dead bugs.'

'So you've got some work. That's wonderful news!'

'Well, maybe. From the sounds of things, I'm going to have to take the whole pipe system apart, clear out the dead shit, make sure there's been no corrosion from whatever was in the poison, and then put it all back together again. But the bug shop shares its pipes with the junk shop, and Stowe's a tight bastard and only wants to pay for his half of the plumbing fix.'

'But you can't just fix half of it, can you? The beetles downstairs will still be clogging everything up.'

'Well that's what I told him! I said, "Stowe, this ain't a problem you can half-fix. It's all or nothing. And you don't want to be fucking around with your plumbing."'

'And what did he say?'

'He said he'd get back to me once he's convinced this junk shop guy to cough up. Which he won't, because his business is already running at a loss, and they're not his bloody beetles clogging up the plumbing.' Frank slammed the section of pipe he was examining down with excessive force. 'This is dragonshit.'

'Don't you wake Tommy,' Angela warned. 'It'll all be okay, Frank. You seemed more relaxed at the wedding than I've seen you in weeks.'

'It was an open bar, Ange,' Frank reached for his beer again.

'I know, but don't weddings just make you happy?'

Frank only grunted and gave a non-committal shrug.

'I wonder what Janie wants to do for her wedding,' Angela ceased her massage, and went to brew some coffee.

'She told me when she was six, she wants to get married at Queerditch Marsh.'

'What on earth is Queerditch Marsh?'

'It's where Quidditch evolved, a thousand years ago. It's a sacred place for true fans.'

'What man is going to agree to get married in a marsh?'

'Beats me,' Frank shrugged, draining his beer and summoning another. 'But what Janie wants, Janie usually gets.'

'She's got a crush on a boy in her Quidditch team,' Angela smirked, but the expression quickly fell away. 'She won't tell me anything about it though. And she doesn't seem to be interested in dating.'

'Good.'

'She's a beautiful girl, Frank. She could have any boy she wanted. I think she's just shy.'

'Our daughter is many things, Ange. Shy is not one of them.'

'Well, maybe she just doesn't know how to initiate dating,' Angela looked thoughtful. 'I could help with that!'

'Ange, for the love of Merlin, leave the girl alone. If she's more interested in hitting balls than cupping them right now, then I'm not complaining.'

'Don't be crass, Frank,' Angela chastised with a look of distaste. 'It's a mother's duty to help her child when she can. And I intend on doing my duty to the best of my ability.'

Frank said nothing, but raised the new beer to his lips and prayed that his daughter survived her teenage years with Angela hovering over her.

Jane and Frankie slipped into the noisy Inn, relishing the warmth, but also suddenly feeling incredibly young amongst the adult clientele. During all of Jane's weekend visits here, the place had been dominated by students ordering butterbeer and nachos, dressed in jeans and jerseys. Now though, the room was full of professional-looking witches and wizards wearing pant suits and skirt suits, business ties and tailored robes. Travelling cloaks were hung over the backs of chairs, and there were woollen hats and mittens littering the table tops. Top shelf liquors were being passed across the bar in exchange for gold galleons at a steady pace, and meals were flying out of the kitchen just as often. The chatter was constant, and had a cheerful vibe to it. Frankie stuck close to Jane as they wove a path to Hagrid, whose huge form they located easily, sitting at the bar.

'Hey, Hagrid,' Jane feigned confidence, dumping her duffel and taking an empty stool next to the half-giant.

'Yer made it!' he exclaimed happily. 'Sorry I wasn't there ter meet yer. Yer train was late, and the mulled mead was calling me,' he indicated his tall glass on the counter, almost empty. 'Yer get my message alright?'

Jane nodded. 'The stationmaster pointed us in the right direction.'

'He's a good man, Tom is,' Hagrid said approvingly. 'I reckon I owe him a drink or two.'

'Well well, Jane Rizzoli!' Rosmerta approached them on the other side of the bar with a grin. 'Hagrid told me I could expect you here tonight! How was the wedding, darlin'?'

'Full of family members,' Jane shuddered. 'Good dessert, though.'

'And this can only be your brother,' Rosmerta turned to Frankie. 'Honey, you are the spittin' image of your sister. What can I call you?'

'I'm Frankie,' he shook her proffered hand, a broad smile on his face. Like thousands before him, he was already under her spell, and liked her immediately.

'Jane and Frankie,' Rosmerta repeated, straightening up and throwing a hand towel over her shoulder. 'How warm would I be if I guessed you were hungry after that train ride from London?'

'You'd be on fire,' Jane informed her.

'So there'd be no complaints if I had the kitchen bring out a couple of bowls of cheese and bacon wedges?'

'With sour cream?' Frankie looked up eagerly. 'And sweet chilli?'

'Honey, I wouldn't dream of serving wedges without sour cream and sweet chilli,' Rosmerta winked, scribbling the order down on her broomstick pad, and launching it towards the kitchen. 'Hagrid, I assume you'll be in need of a fresh mead before too long?'

'Ta,' Hagrid nodded. 'Any chance you've got hippogriff jerky out the back?'

''Fraid not,' she shook her head. 'But if you're willing to settle for dragon biltong, you might be in luck.'

'Go on, then,' Hagrid gave a booming laugh. 'Give us a dollop of barbecue sauce with it, won't you?'

'Of course,' Rosmerta found her broomstick order pad once again. 'Really had to twist your arm with that one!'

'Hey, Ros!' a man in a dark blue shirt with a loosened tie called from the other end of the bar. 'Can I get another round of Peachtree Fizz, and a couple of bowls of fries?'

'Conrad!' Rosmerta excused herself and went to greet the customer. 'Do you know I have to order two extra gallons of Peachtree every week, just in case you four show up?'

'Was yer journey alright?' Hagrid glanced over at the Rizzoli siblings. 'Good ter see yer folks again?'

'Uneventful,' Jane shrugged. 'I think I might prefer not seeing them, actually. Got me out of Divination today, though.'

'I missed History of Magic!' Frankie said gleefully.

Hagrid gave a snort. 'I can see why that would be appealing to yer.'

'Hey, Hagrid?' Jane asked curiously. 'What's Lemon Briefcase?'

'I thought yer would've guessed,' Hagrid answered. 'Take a look around.'

Jane and Frankie both looked over their shoulders to survey the room with more scrutiny. At a table close to the fire, Jane saw a wizard laugh as he fed skewered olives from his empty martini glass to the wizard sitting next to him. Another pair of wizards at the same table applauded the action and gave a small cheer. Across the room in the booths, Frankie saw a witch returning from the bar with two glasses of a rich, purple liquid. She passed one of the glasses to another witch, who accepted the beverage and briefly kissed her lips in thanks.

'They're all couples!' he exclaimed excitedly, as though he'd solved a mystery. His eyebrows quickly knitted together. 'Wait, are we in a gay bar?'

Hagrid gave a long chuckle, before downing the rest of his mead. 'No, it's jest Monday night. And if yer here on Monday night and yer straight, yer a minority.'

'I don't get it,' Jane frowned. 'Why is it only a gay bar on Monday nights?'

'Monday nights is Lemon Briefcase,' Hagrid shrugged. 'Has been fer years. It's jest a place fer the queer professionals to have a drink together after work. All folks welcome, o' course. I used to come along sometimes with Professor Dumbledore, and Madam Hooch. Mulled mead's jest as good whoever the company.'

'Who's Madam Hooch?' Jane asked.

'She's Rosmerta's wife. Used to teach flying at Hogwarts. I reckon you two'd get along like a house on fire.'

'Madam Rosmerta's married?' Frankie asked, almost sounding disappointed.

'Yes sir, and as happy as a hippogriff.'

'How happy is that?' Jane asked, shaking herself out of mild stupefaction.

'Pretty damn happy,' Hagrid gave a nod. 'Look, here comes yer dinner.'

'How far down are we going?' Jane asked, following Frankie through a door to the left of the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall. 'I don't think I've actually ever been down here before.'

'Just to the basement,' he answered. 'It's not far.'

They descended several flights of steps that kept changing direction, hewn immaculately into the stone. Jane noticed the stairwell they were navigating was quite wide, but realised that if the Hufflepuff common room was down this way, this passage would be receiving a decent volume of foot traffic. And if the kitchens were close by, that meant there was a decent chance of fire.

Frankie exited the stairs then, and turned right into a corridor. It was broad, and made of stone, but unlike the dark and gloomy subterranean corridors that provided access to the dungeons, this corridor was brightly lit, with torches burning at regular intervals just below the ceiling. Frankie slowed his pace slightly, to give Jane some time to look. Along both walls, there were countless colourful paintings of food. Although they were mostly still life, and although she had eaten less than an hour ago, Jane looked at a painting of an enormous plum pie with a single slice removed from it, and found her mouth beginning to water.

'How is it that the entire Hufflepuff population isn't obese?' Jane tore her eyes away from the walls.

Frankie just laughed. 'Why d'you think our ghost is the Fat Friar?'

Further down the corridor, there was a pile of haphazardly stacked barrels sitting in a nook, and Jane thought that might have something to do with gaining entry to the kitchen. Frankie stopped abruptly at a painting though: a still life of a gigantic silver fruit bowl.

'I haven't been in before,' he admitted. 'But I heard something about tickling.'

He and Jane stood before the painting, and each began running their fingertips over various pieces of fruit.

'It's not the orange,' Jane declared.

'Not the grapes,' Frankie added. 'I'll try this banana.'

'Oh!' Jane jumped in surprise as the pear began to squirm beneath her fingers. 'Frankie, look! It's the pear!'

She reached up to tickle it more thoroughly, and both siblings couldn't help but grin as the pear began to giggle and tried to roll away from Jane's touch. Jane persisted though, and before their eyes, the pear transformed into a door handle.

'Brilliant, Frankie!' Jane gave her brother the most approving smile she'd doled out all year. 'Of all the secret places in the castle, this is top three, easily. Didn't even take you two months to crack it!'

She stepped back to let Frankie do the honours, and when the painting swung inward, he took the first step over the threshold. Jane, second through, turned around to put the painting back into place, and afterwards promptly bumped into Frankie, who had seemingly frozen on the spot.

About to chastise him with some choice expletives, she suddenly saw what he was staring at, and her own eyes grew wide as well. All she managed to say was, 'woah', echoing her brother's sentiments exactly.

'When's Jane due back?' Runa asked with mild interest, examining the chess board between her and Maura. 'Pawn to E4.'

'Are you letting me win on purpose?' Maura accused. 'Knight to E4.' She gave a small grin of satisfaction as Runa's piece was annihilated. 'She's coming back tonight. I'd expect her to be in the castle already, in fact.'

Runa grimaced, allowing herself a decent mourning period for her fallen pawn. 'Good,' she nodded. 'I missed hearing Jane muttering about how bullshit Divination is this afternoon.'

Maura gave a surprised laugh. 'You take Divination?'

'Absolutely! It's easier than Muggle Studies, if you're learned in the art of telling tall tales. Which I am! Jane's not bad, either. We've compared notes a few times.'

'Jane hardly ever mentions Divination,' Maura said thoughtfully. 'I suppose it's because she never has a problem with the work. What do you actually do in class? I recall Jane plotting the movements of stars and planets in the Study Hall several weeks ago.'

'That was our Astrology unit,' Runa recalled. 'We mapped the movements of celestial bodies and then used their relative positions to predict the future.'

'Has this been made subject to any kind of scientific rigour?' Maura asked sceptically. 'My parents have very little regard for Divination. I don't think we have a single book on the subject in our library.'

'Of course not! It's all utter crap. I mean, maybe you get your true Seers every once in a while, like Cassandra Trelawney. Maybe. But I think it's a joke to try and teach it. So everybody just makes stuff up, and usually, the more certain you sound about your bullshit, the better your grades.'

'But that's completely idiotic!'

'Preaching to the choir,' Runa held up her hand and laughed. 'But it's actually kind of hilarious. Professor Trelawney said that if Saturn is in a prominent position during a person's birth, then they're going to have a "baleful influence, dark hair, short height, and tragic losses early in life". So I looked up the planetary movements around my birthday in the Divination archives, and Saturn could not be any more prominent.'

'You do have dark hair,' Maura admitted. 'And perhaps you're a little below average in height, but I wouldn't say you were short. Besides, the first female adolescent growth spurts don't tend to end until age fourteen, so age thirteen is hardly an accurate measure. Surely you can't believe-'

'Of course not!' Runa cut her off. 'But it was useful for my Astrology project. I called it "Proving Predictions", and I wrote about how I can partially blame Saturn for my parents' early divorce, and my dog getting run over on my fourth birthday, and how, because Saturn made me shorter, I was at a greater risk of having objects fall on my head, since I have to reach for things so often.'

'Oh my Goodness,' Maura put a hand to her mouth, hiding a small smile. 'Divination sounds like an exercise in imaginative thought. What did the Professor think?'

'Loved it!' Runa almost gloated. 'Gave me an Outstanding. I think she took pity on me, and is a little scared of my "baleful influence". I was almost sad when we moved on to new methods of Divination. Though today was alright. We just got to set things on fire, and look at the pattern of the flames for fire omens…'

'How can we helps you, Sir and Miss?'

Frankie remained speechless and frozen, and Jane had to side step around him, and find her own voice. Before them stood what must have been sixty house elves, all helping to clean the dinner dishes, wipe down tables, dust and polish, and prepare food in advance for the day ahead. Neither of them had ever seen more than one house elf at a time before in all their lives! Their parents couldn't afford one, and so their only elf experiences were at the homes of family friends, and that had always been fleeting.

'Um, hi,' Jane finally spoke. 'I'm Jane. I was hoping I could get some strawberries from down here?'

'Miss Jane, but of course,' the house elf bowed deeply. 'Would you likes to follow me, or remain here?'

'I'll come,' Jane took a step forward. 'How many of you are there in here?'

'In the kitchens right now there is sixty five,' the elf replied. 'But there is ninety nine of us in the employ of Hogwarts. The remaining thirty four is lighting fires and cleaning classrooms, Miss. None of us is slacking.'

'What's your name?' Frankie asked the elf, who was wearing an old flour sack.

'I is called Blinky, Sir. What may I calls you?'

'My name's Frankie.'

'Mister Frankie, is you hungry, too? What can we cooks for you?'

'Plum pie,' Jane muttered to him under her breath.

'I don't suppose you've got any plum pie, have you?'

'We has a whole plum pie, baked fresh this afternoon!'

'With whipped cream?' Jane asked excitedly.

'Yes Miss, we always keeps whipped cream ready in case Mister Korsak comes to visit.'

Jane was almost bouncing on the step. 'This is so brilliant!'

'Posey!' Blinky called, and a smaller house elf wearing a sack that had ONIONS stamped upside down across the front, came over. 'Posey, will you fetch please two slices of plum pie with whipped cream for Miss Jane and Mister Frankie?'

The young elf sprang into action, and went to collect two dessert bowls from an enormous wall of crockery. Frankie took a look around the place, and saw that the kitchen opened onto an enormous room that had an identical layout to the Great Hall. There were elves running back and forth between the crockery shelves and the five empty tables in the enormous room, setting places for breakfast the next morning. Other elves went among the tables with baskets of cutlery and napkins, diligently ensuring each place was set perfectly.

The kitchen was a marvel within itself. There was a big brick fireplace at one end, with an industrial sized cauldron hung in the cavity. One wall was lined with stoves, and on every spare inch of wall in the room, there were pots and pans and wooden stirring spoons hung from the stonework. In the middle of the room was a long wooden bench, and Frankie could imagine twenty house elves sitting at the table preparing vegetables in the morning and afternoon.

A house elf with an armful of clean goblets suddenly ran into Frankie on his way to the replica Great Hall, and a loud clanging echoed throughout the high ceilinged room as the vessels went helter-skelter across the stone floor.

'Sir, I is so sorry!' the elf hurriedly collected up the goblets, and ran back to the sink with them. 'I is so sorry, Sir! How do you wishes to punish me?'

'What?' Frankie was taken aback. 'I don't want to punish you! It was an honest mistake!'

'No, Sir! I runs into you just now. I has probably given you a bruise!'

'It doesn't hurt at all, I promise,' Frankie tried to assure the earnest creature. 'No hard feelings.'

'Jolly must have his punishment!' the elf cried, running to retrieve a cast iron frying pan from the wall.

Before Frankie realised what his intentions were, the elf had brought the pan down on his head, and knocked himself unconscious. Frankie made to go and pick the elf up, wondering if Madam Martin had any training in Healing nonhuman creatures, but before he got to Jolly, three other elves had come to attend to the situation.

'We is sorry you had to see that, Sir,' one apologised, picking up the frying pan, and going to wash it in the sink while the two other elves carried Jolly away. 'We has told Jolly to be more careful with his goblets.'

'Here you is, Mister Frankie,' Posey returned from a small cavity in the corner that Frankie hadn't noticed before. 'Plum pie with whipped cream. Will you take some butterbeer?'

'No, no, that's fine,' Frankie said quickly, afraid of the severity of the punishments the elves gave themselves for simple mistakes. What if Posey tripped carrying back a couple of bottles? 'Thanks very much!'

'You is welcome, Sir,' Posey curtseyed, placing the bowls down on the preparation table. 'Where is Miss Jane?'

'I'm here!' Jane had to duck and do a bit of a shuffle to get through the space Posey had just come through. 'The storeroom is amazing, Frankie! I almost wish I was a Hufflepuff, just so I could be closer to the kitchens!' She carried with her a small bowl of strawberries, and an enormous smile on her face. 'I can't wait to give these to Maura!'

Jane ran straight up to Ravenclaw Tower, strawberry bowl in hand, and duffel bag over her shoulder. She was panting heavily by the time she reached the bronze knocker that guarded Maura's common room. She had just eaten the biggest bowl of wedges she had ever seen, and what she thought must have been at least a quarter of a pie, and run from the basement to one of the tallest towers on the opposite side of the castle, with a reasonably heavy bag. She hated feeling unfit!

'Whatcha got for me?' she challenged the knocker, wondering if she smelled sweaty from her burst of exercise.

'Is the quill mightier than the sword?'

'Psh, no!' Jane scoffed, answering immediately. 'Is this a trick question? Who's ever managed to chop somebody's head off with a quill?'

The door remained tightly shut. Jane frowned.

'Is the quill mightier than the sword?' the eagle knocker repeated.

'Fine, yes,' Jane tried. 'Yes, the quill is mightier than the sword.'

There was still no movement. She tried pushing on the door in case it had opened and she hadn't heard it, but it stayed fast.

'Seriously?' Jane scowled. 'What do you want me to say? This is crap!'

With a huff, she walked back to the Ravenclaw Tower landing, and looked down over the bannister. There was nobody in sight; no Ravenclaws climbing the stairs who could open the door for her. She was liable to be waiting out here for hours.

Feeling considerably deflated, and uncomfortably full, she trudged back down the staircase, and back to the Fat Lady. She would see Maura tomorrow. Until then though, she was going to be the weird girl with a bowl of fruit. It could have been worse though, she supposed, as she gave the password and climbed into the cavity. At least Bass's favourite food wasn't melons.