Deeper Magic

If Imogen received all the initial credit for Gabe's survival at the lake, Hal was an equal part in it by the feast they held that night. Gabe's mother especially kept coming up to him, patting his cheek and kissing his forehead. Others brought him drinks and wanted him to recount what happened down below. In some ways he finally seemed free of the moodiness that had ruled him earlier, but Imogen could see that in between praise and celebration, he would lose the bravado. Hal's shoulders would slump and he'd take on a look of consternation.

Mostly, though, Imogen enjoyed the party. At least this time her role as a central figure had something to do with what she actually did, rather than just showing up. The only person who didn't seem pleased with Imogen after the afternoon's events was Sabina. When Imogen went to work with her again, Sabina had a shorter temper than normal.

"Use ze magic like you did vith zat girl!" she demanded.

Imogen tried. The lake had given her that feeling of something inside her, as Sabina described over and over. The feeling was akin to whatever she had done when Fritz died and she wondered if it was only accessible to her in times of fear or distress. It was different than when she was doing a spell at Hogwarts. Those didn't seem to require anything from that reserve deep inside of her.

Sabina seemed certain she should be able to control it, though.

The fiddling stopped and people murmured. Harper and Imogen talked and laughed when Gabe's father came up to Imogen. "You must sing for us," he said.

There was an enthusiastic cheer in unison and Imogen blushed. She would hum almost anytime she worked, and occasionally songs would come out, but she didn't sing like Harper. Not in front of others and especially not in front of large crowds of people. Harper shoved Imogen up, joining the cheering as she did.

Imogen looked around thinking. There were songs from the wireless she sort of knew, but it seemed odd to start singing that sort of music here. Then there were little bits of some of the songs Harper would sing, but she was certain to forget them halfway through. She took a breath and started to sing the only song she could think of so quickly.

In the meadow,
In the meadow,
Just before the sun will rise

The clapping stopped and the crowd turned silent. This was worse. Imogen felt hot with embarrassment, continuing in a shaky voice.

Meet me there and find a rainbow
Then you always will be mine

She paused, clearing her throat before starting the next verse. As she did, Harper's voice sang with her, harmonizing as she continued.

Down the stream
And through the hollow
There you'll find my favorite lad
Rest inside from all your sorrows
Seek the one to make you glad

They sang the last verse together and scattered voices from the clan joined them soft and low. Imogen looked over to Hal, expecting him to have started as well. Instead he was tense, his eyes looking off into some unknown distance. They finished and as everyone cheered, he ducked through the crowd, leaving.

Someone else was being called to sing next and Harper let out a breath. "He doesn't like that song."

"Why not?"

"I'll tell you later," Harper looked around at the crowds uncertainly.

The songs and dancing continued. As the crowd settled and people headed back to their wagons, Harper grabbed Imogen, dragging her away. They went into the field, the bike laying abandoned in the grass. Harper fell into the grass as well, looking up at the stars.

Imogen followed her lead. It had been a long day, and tomorrow would start with another lesson from Sabina. She looked at the stars, brighter than she had ever seen them before. Lorcan knew the constellations much better than her, but she looked around, naming them in her mind like he did whenever they were out at night.

"The meadow is a real place," Harper said into the silent night.

Imogen kept looking at the sky. "A place for Gypsies?"

"Yes," Harper said. "That song is all about it. Our mum sang it to us every night."

"What's it for? I mean… what kind of place? Like a clan?"

"No. It's a sacred place. It's a place to converse with the dead. Or to join them."

When Imogen thought of the meadow from the song, she'd always imagined flowers and trees and rays of warm sunlight. Death never featured in her visions. "What kills those who go?"

"Nothing kills them. It's not really dying," Harper said. "They say it was created to rejoin lovers, when death had intervened too soon. But the living can choose to stay or go. For a while at least. They exist outside of death. But they exist outside of life, too."

"Why does it upset Hal?"

"Because he's been there. I think he sometimes wishes he hadn't come back."

"Why did he then?" Imogen turned her head to look at Harper.

"For me."

"I remembered," Imogen said when she arrived at lessons with Sabina the next morning.

Sabina looked at her, one eyebrow raised. Imogen knew she could see it for herself, but she still waited for Imogen's explanation.

"I had a dream last night, but it was a dream that was a memory," Imogen said. "I mean, I remember something. I remembered my papa singing the meadow song to me."

It was a simple memory, unimportant even. She must have been six or seven and was laying in her bed at the compound. Her papa sat beside her, singing the song and patting her hand with his, their palms running one against the other and golden sparks in between them. Her mother walked in and stood in the doorway watching, smiling at the two of them.

"Very good," Sabina said, a glint in her eye. "Zat is because you used your magic. You vill remember more as you practice."

Imogen nodded, anxious to start. If she expected sudden improvement, both her and Sabina were disappointed. In the next four days, her only success was to attach two of the chair pieces. The rest laid untouched in the pile.

She had never been so exhausted as she tried to find the magic Sabina spoke of. Imogen spent the evening with Harper and Hal. Gabe would often come by as well. One evening after supper, Gabe reached over to grab Imogen's hand. Little, but distinct, silver sparks came from her palm, tickling Imogen's skin. Imogen waited until she was gone, then looked over to Hal.

"Is Gabe's mum or dad a caster?"

Hal shot her his look that told Imogen he thought she was daft. "Sabina wouldn't have gone looking for you if there were already a caster here," he said.

"Oh, right," Imogen said.

In between lessons over the next couple days, Imogen watched Gabe.

No more memories surfaced and no matter how hard Imogen tried, she still seemed unable to do what Sabina wanted. They had moved to the gardens and her new task was to encourage the growth of the fall harvest. Imogen had made some already grown tomatoes ripen and enlarge, but to make new growth was nearly impossible.

Harper was still always there, though Hal seemed to be bored with the lessons and rarely came anymore. She sat against a nearby tree, weaving long blades of grass into a wreath. Sabina stood beside Imogen, grasping her arm as she failed, once again, to do what she had been out here to do.

"You are sinking of zhem again," she snapped.

As usual, Sabina was right. Imogen was thinking of Lily and Ginny and the others more and more, missing them and trying to think of a way to bring up going back. The Gypsies didn't keep track of time the same way, but when Imogen tried to figure out the date, she realized it must be the end of July or beginning of August. If she was going to make amends before school, she would need to get going back sometime soon. Still, she was torn. She would like to learn what Sabina was trying to teach her. Somehow Imogen imagined if she could do that, she could at least have something to show for her escapades. Maybe the Potters would understand.

"Zey do not vant you, Imogen," Sabina said. "Vizards are selfish and do not care for anything but zemselves!"

It had been a while since Sabina had spoken so harshly about wizards or the Potters specifically. Imogen swallowed and tried to stand tall. "Not them," Imogen said."They took care of me. They love me."

"Perhaps," Sabina said, narrowing her eyes. There was a shift in her demeanor. She kept one hand on Imogen's shoulder, circling behind her. "But zey limit you. If zey are going to come to mind, you must use zem to create. Now zey only block. You must feel your gift." She crossed an arm around Imogen, placing her hand on Imogen's chest, over her heart. Sabina's lips were next to Imogen's ear. "Close your eyes."

Imogen did. She took steadying breaths, stretching her fingers and trying to feel. "Deep inside you, zair is a power. Look for ze power."

Imogen tried to find that place she'd only known a couple times. She followed the feeling in her palms that let her sense the world around her. She felt tendrils—light and soft. She imagined them flowing through her, to a place that was only hers. It sat in the pit of her stomach.

"Now, raise your hands," Sabina whispered. She was tapping a rhythm on Imogen's chest with a single finger. The feeling in the pit of her stomach became more and more defined. "Sink of him."

Imogen almost opened her eyes, but instead she swallowed. She thought of James. She thought of when they first knew each other. They were the youngest in the group in Australia. Imogen liked him immediately. She remembered sitting next to him, hoping he would reach around her to help stir the potions he taught her some evenings. Imogen waited ages before he kissed her for the first time. James later told her that he'd been lectured by his uncle to take things slow. Still, their first kiss (which was also Imogen's first kiss with anyone) was perfect. James had been perfect. He used to magic beautiful white flowers to stick in her hair. Imogen smiled at the memory.

Power surged through her. Imogen felt the roots and stems, small and feeble, in the garden in front of her. She thought of the flower growing in James's palm and felt the stems grow as well. The plants grew upward and vegetables and fruits sprung from them. But it continued. Whatever it was, this feeling that pulsed to the rhythm Sabina tapped above her heart, moved through as she pictured James, looking at her after placing the flower in her hair.

"Oh my god!" Harper gasped.

Imogen opened her eyes. The garden was full of ripe, beautiful plants, but surrounding the plot of groomed soil, flowers sprang up through the grass. Imogen had only ever made grow what was already there. That was a limitation of wizarding magic. She could feel the difference. She had made these herself. White flowers, like the one James often made for her. Only this wasn't just a bloom in her palm. They sprung from the earth in a pattern starting next to the garden and spreading outward. Harper reached over and plucked one that grew up next to her. Imogen closed her hands and pulled them back. She expected the flowers to disappear. Instead, the ones that had started continued until they were large, open blooms.

Sabina let go of her, walking out and looking at the flowers. She had gone to the middle of the growth and turned around. "Zis is the power you have," she said. "Valda vill have food ready. Ve vill do more after."

Sabina turned again, walking through the flowers. Harper hopped up, running over to where Imogen stood. "That was amazing," she said, awestruck.

Imogen nodded, reaching up to play with the locket around her neck. In the moment it gave her a warm feeling to think of James and what had been good. Now she just remembered that it was over. She'd have to think of other memories later. Ones of the other Potters, Dakota, Lorcan, or others she knew cared about her. Anyone but James.

All of the books Lorcan collected on Gypsies and Gypsy magic were scattered around him and Lily in the loft of the barn. His dad had opened the roof for them, with a warning to Lorcan that he would be checked on if it was getting too late. With a blush he nodded and waited for his dad to leave before bringing the books in.

Lily sat across from him, cross legged and in shorts and a simple tank top. Her hair was down, but she kept messing with it, pushing strands behind her ears as they got in the way of her reading. "You know, it's kind of obnoxious how each of these say the same thing. Which is nothing," she said, closing another book and sighing.

"I'm getting the impression they're a very secretive community," Lorcan agreed. He flipped through his own book. What had been exciting new information a week ago turned out to be the only information that seemed to exist.

"Well, fine, except how do we find out where Imogen is?" Lily said. This had become the renewed focus for Lily. She was still worried that Imogen had changed her mind, which created more urgency to figure out Imogen's location. With the arrival of Hogwarts letters and O.W.L. results that morning, Lorcan couldn't help but wonder if Imogen had decided not to return. Lorcan was trying to prepare himself for what it might mean if Imogen didn't come back, but Lily threw herself into the research, determined to find Imogen and convince her. "You know how much trouble I'm in if my family finds out about the mirror and I don't know how to track Imogen down, right?"

Lorcan looked at her. Lily was normally carefree and enthusiastic, but here, her wide brown eyes were filled with worry. "We'll find her," Lorcan said. "Didn't you say your dad's workers had figured out about… what was his name?"

"Hal, yeah," Lily said. "And Dad let James go with Broker on some kind of discovery mission tonight, but they haven't figured out anything else about him and they have no clue about the Gypsies."

"Then… next week," Lorcan suggested. "Next week, if they still aren't on the right track, we tell them everything."

"I'm so dead," Lily groaned.

"I'll … I'll be with you when you tell them," Lorcan promised. He didn't really feel like facing James under the circumstances, but for Imogen and Lily he would do it. "We'll tell them together."

Lily sighed and picked up another book.

Lorcan looked up at the night sky every now and again, keeping track of the time. When they'd been through everything there, Lily was more relaxed. They figured out a couple more facts, like if the graveyard of a Gypsy clan could be found, their location wasn't far off either. Also, their protection spells would allow non-Gypsies to come in, but they wouldn't be able to leave except by permission of the leaders of a clan.

"I guess you should be getting back to your grandparents'?" Lorcan asked.

"Yes, but I did have one more question." Lorcan raised his eyebrows as he looked at Lily. "Why haven't you kissed me yet?"

Lorcan swallowed and froze. His heart beat faster and his palms suddenly felt sweaty. If he thought he was over being nervous around Lily, the words she just spoke proved him terribly wrong. She watched him, waiting for an answer, but he couldn't find any words to string together.

"I mean, you do like me, right?"

His whole face was on fire. "I-i-imogen t-told you?"

Lily gave a small smile. She had a glint in her eye. "No," she said. "She didn't have to. I suspected you might at the start of last year. But you never actually asked me out. And I didn't know if we really had anything in common, but this summer has proved me wrong about that."

She stopped talking again, but Lorcan could barely breathe. Words, you idiot, use words!

"Anyway," Lily said, looking down at her hands folded in front of her. She bit her bottom lip. "I just thought it would be a shame for you to have brought two different girls up to the loft of the barn and not gotten anything for your trouble either time."

Lily's eyes met his and he still couldn't will himself to speak. He couldn't move as she pushed herself forward. Lorcan was sure his heart would burst of out his chest at any moment. Her lips met his, slow and gentle. He had just closed his eyes and started to move his own lips when Lily pulled back. His eyes shot open and he watched with his mouth agape as Lily stood and skipped down the loft steps and out of sight.

Lorcan swallowed. She'd kissed him. She'd kissed him. And he had been a complete prat. Lorcan scrambled to his feet, slipping on the loose straw of the loft floor. She was well ahead of him, a good portion of the yard had been covered by the time he got to the barn door. "Lily!" he shouted. She stopped and turned around.

Before he could think of what to do or what to say he walked right up to her. His hands were hanging down by his sides. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, eyes shut tight. He didn't move, but stood there, his lips touching Lily's. It was wrong, all wrong. He was doing terribly and he knew it. He'd gotten all nine O.W.L.s, but confronted with the one thing he had daydreamed about as long as he could remember, and he was clueless.

Lorcan pulled back and opened his eyes. Lily was looking up at him, smiling beautifully. Fireflies were coming out and he could swear a dozen or so were circling her head to form a halo.

Lorcan ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head. "I-I-I don't know w-what I'm doing."

Lily's smile widened. "That's okay," she whispered, reaching out and grabbing his hands. She guided them, wrapping them around her waist. She stretched her arms around his neck. "I'll show you."

This time he followed her lead, closing his eyes and feeling how her lips moved.

Imogen Dahl

The script on the envelope seemed to stare up at Ginny. When three owls arrived that morning, Lily grabbed hers, Albus his, and then everyone stopped what they were doing, looking down at the third, unclaimed envelope against the wooden grain of the table. It was a full minute before James leaned in to grab it. Ginny pulled it his from his hand.

"Imogen should see her scores first," Ginny said. She walked over to the china cabinet and placed the envelope on the top shelf. "I'll just put this up here for when she gets back."

Everyone else exchanged glances. Eventually, Lily and Albus opened their own. Ginny couldn't get the owl off her mind, though, carrying it around all day. In the afternoon, she had walked into Imogen's room, placing it on her pillow, only to go get it half an hour later. Even now she flipped it back and forth as Harry brushed his teeth.

Ginny heard the water shut off and Harry came into the room, sitting beside her on the bed. "Why don't you open it?"

"It's addressed to Imogen," Ginny said. "We always let them open their school letters."

Harry reached over, pulling it from her fingers. "Then you need to get your mind off of it." He dropped the envelope onto his night stand, leaning over and kissing her jawline. Ginny put a hand on his neck and he was wrapping her up in his arms as she looked over to the table, staring at the envelope. He pulled away, sighing. "Ginny, just open it."

She sat up straighter as Harry grabbed the letter, handing it back over to her. Ginny opened the seal, pulling out the papers and reading. "She got all her O.W.L.s," she said. Tears developed in her eyes as she put a hand to her mouth. "E in Arithmancy. The rest are O's."

"You know, when I made the ten galleons per O.W.L. deal with James, I didn't realize the others would bankrupt me," Harry said with a smile.

Ginny let out something between a sob and a laugh. "We didn't have Imogen with us when you made that promise, though I warned you we'd be paying out with Al."

Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I'm just glad there was no such agreement for N.E.W.T.s. So, something for Albus for making Headboy, ninety galleons to Imogen for O.W.L.s—"

"And Lily's Captain for Gryffindor this year," Ginny added.

"Think we should get her some new equipment?"

"I'll see if there's something she wants. Gloves or… maybe some shoes. Nimbus has been wanting me to review their latest, so I could probably get it for less if Lily wants a new broom."

"Big year for all of them," Harry said.

Ginny began to cry, leaning forward and clutching the letter to her chest. Harry leaned in, an arm around her and waited for her to get through the worst of it. When she was through, Ginny gingerly folded the letter and grades back to how they were, placing them into the envelope.

Harry turned Ginny towards him, kissing her and holding her face. "We are going to find Imogen," he promised. "Carver and I are going to Belarus tomorrow. Hopefully this time it's a good lead."

Ginny nodded. "I know. I'm just sorry you have to spend your birthday there."

"I'm not," Harry said. "Especially if I can bring her back."

Ginny turned, opening the drawer to her own nightstand and placing Imogen's letter in there to keep safe. "We'll celebrate properly when everyone's home."

"Yes, well, I don't know if it makes me callous to point out that Lily is at your parents, Albus is with Bill's family at the Quidditch match, and James is with Broker in Scotland... I was kind of hoping we could celebrate a bit before I leave in the morning."

"Always with the subtle propositions, Harry," she teased. They didn't often have alone time in the summers. Ginny smiled at Harry and nodded, trying to forget the one he didn't mention and why she wasn't home tonight either.

Broker finished another story about the drills, activities, and his other experiences at the academy and ordered a second round of drinks. James was smiling—something he hadn't done much since the first week of summer. "No way!" he shouted over the din of the pub. "You seriously animated all the gargoyles in the academy?"

Broker laughed. "Yeah," he said. "I don't recommend doing anything like that. Me and Jenkins nearly got booted."

They were still in Scotland grabbing a late dinner and drinks. The guy named Hal that Imogen had disappeared with was nearly impossible to find information on. They had found only one small lead that placed a Scot named Hal Gramae in a small wizarding village on an island. Coming here, they'd figured out very little. Hal had left at the age of twelve with his sister after his mother died. An elderly neighbor to the family told them the story, though mostly she just paused every minute or so to say, "Those poor, poor dears. Have you found them?"

Broker kept telling her no. James was starting to realize how much patience it took to be an auror. Between interviews and following this sort of information that seemed to lead nowhere, there was a lot of waiting and hoping, and far less immediate action than James used to think was included in the work. The only solid information was they were able to find a picture the woman had that they could compare to the older, memory version of Hal. Even without that James was certain the two were one in the same.

"I'll keep that advice in mind, if I ever get in," James responded, reaching for the chips in front of him.

"'Course you'll get in," Broker said.

"I still have to retake the Herbology test."

"Half the aurors in the department had to retake something, James," Broker said. "I had to retake my Defense exams."

"No way! Really?"

"Yup," Broker said, taking a deep drink. "I had a professor tell me not to bother and go into something else. Maybe general security detail for other departments. But I knew what I wanted, so I went for it."

James nodded. As much as he still wanted to be an auror, he couldn't stop thinking of something he wanted more. Imogen. He'd thought a lot about what his mother said to him. Things would be different. He realized she was right, but he could manage different if he could be with Imogen again. What worried him was if she came back and he had to let it be different in a way that meant watching her move onto others. James wasn't sure he could handle it. He couldn't imagine shifting into a brotherly role. Worse than that was if it were different in the sense that she didn't come back at all.

James wiped at the condensation on his mug. "What if you can't go for what you want? What if it's not up to you?"

"Thinking of your girl, huh?" Broker said. He set down his own glass and leaned forward. "Women are a tricky area, James. But generally you just have to wait and see where things are at."

"My parents don't get it," James told him. "I mean, how could they? My mum was in love with Dad since she was ten, and they've been together since Hogwarts. Even when they did break it off it wasn't because of something either of them did."

"You know, I always thought my parents had this perfect relationship. They always did everything together. Then a couple years ago my mum told me about a time when I was young that she left my dad for a few months because he'd been a heavy drinker and she wasn't having any of it. She took me and my brother to her parents. I vaguely remember it. We spent the summer with them, I think. Point is, we rarely know all the fights our parents went through to get to where they are. I think your parents understand more than you think."

"That still doesn't help me with Imogen," James said.

"Sorry, mate," Broker said. "It's something you and Imogen have to figure out together. For now all we can do is find her. The rest will come after that."

James nodded. He'd hoped for a more satisfying answer, but James supposed he knew there wasn't one. Broker suggested they get rooms at the inn for the night. Once alone, James sat on his bed for a while, thinking. His mind sifted through various memories of Imogen and their time together. He remembered one particular day early in his sixth year when Imogen came out to watch him run Quidditch trials. The whole thing had been more difficult and exhausting than he had thought it would be. Imogen just waited in the stands, studying and occasionally watching. When he'd dismissed everyone, he flew over, landing on the bench, then hopped down to sit beside her.

"You're a really good leader," Imogen said to him.

He didn't feel like one. He leaned his elbows on his knees. "I swear, I'd much rather organize a party than a team."

"You'll be organizing tons of those when your team wins all the games this year," Imogen replied with a smile. "But I'd appreciate if you didn't tell anyone in Ravenclaw I said so."

James smiled, leaned over, and kissed her quickly. "Catching up on classwork?"

"Uh, no," Imogen said. She closed the book and James saw that it was a Quidditch strategy book. "I thought I could help you come up with a couple plays to start. I was watching the players that seemed to have promise. The book has suggestions based on the team strengths and everything. Not that I get all of it, but I think I have a better idea now."

James's heart felt light as Imogen went on to describe everything she was thinking. He'd never quite thought through the benefits of having a brainy girlfriend, but was starting to appreciate it now more than ever. "You're amazing," he told her when she finished. He pulled her into him and kissed her deeply. "I love you so much."

It was ironic, James thought, that if it were someone else missing, Imogen would be much better at finding them than he was. He wished he could tell her. He wished he could talk about the memory with Imogen and let her know how much it still meant to him that she had put aside her own work to help him.

Unable to sleep, James searched the drawers at the inn for parchment, a quill, and some ink. Sitting at the rickety desk, he thought through everything again in his mind.

Dear Imogen,

He looked at the words, trying to figure out where to go from here. He couldn't actually send the letter. His mum had tried to send Peregrine with a note a little over a week before, though they all knew it wouldn't work if Imogen didn't want to be found. The owl had come back two days later with the envelope still attached.

Still, he needed to put these thoughts somewhere. And if she did come back, maybe this was a better way to articulate how he felt than anything else.

I think there came a point I forgot just how wonderful you are. Remember how nervous I was to be captain? But I knew I could do it because you had faith in me.

James wrote until he ran out of thoughts. He'd filled three pages.

Another four days and Imogen was using magic in a way she never thought possible. Sabina put her through one task after another. Outside of these, Imogen would sometimes use spells as she'd learned them, but she didn't need them anymore. Memories, too, were finding their way back. She remembered a game her papa played with her when he was tired. He'd lay in the center of the living room as she ran around and around his form. "Can't catch me!" she would say. "Can't catch me, Papa!"

He'd just smile, reach out his hand and pull her to him using his casting. She would squeal and he'd catch her in his arms, tickling her until she couldn't breathe.

She remembered her mother spending an hour each night telling her stories and brushing Imogen's hair. Imogen remembered baking cookies with her mum as well.

There were also harder memories that came to her. Imogen didn't know how, but she always knew she was the first of the three of them to realize what the compound was. The second night after seeing what she could do, Imogen remembered the evening she pulled her parents from the Imperius Curse. They were worried, panicked even. Her father kept kneeling in front of her, asking if she was alright. He was never satisfied by her answer. Imogen suddenly remembered being eleven and frightened of how he reacted. Her papa, who never seemed afraid of anything, was worried. She knew that whatever the compound was, it was bad.

The one type of memory that hadn't come back was any time her father may have told her they were Gypsies. Imogen wasn't sure of what to make of that, except to think that at some point it would to come to her.

Even through the progress that was being made, Imogen was worried about how little time there was left in the summer.

It had to be the third or fourth of August by now, though it could be later. She had probably missed Harry's birthday, but if she got going now, she could do something for Ginny's birthday. Her own was at the end of the month, but she didn't expect that to be celebrated after the trouble she had been for them this summer.

Working herself up all day, Imogen went to see Sabina well after dark. Dinner had happened hours before and almost everyone else had gone into their wagons. Imogen knocked on the main wagon, Valda opening the door for her.

"Vat is it?" Sabina asked from behind Valda.

"I'm sorry it's so late," Imogen said. Nerves bubbled in her stomach.

"Come, sit," Sabina said.

Valda moved aside and Imogen took a chair across from Sabina. Valda went over to the nook, grabbing a glass. "Ze special vine, Valda," Sabina instructed, then looked to Imogen as Valda shuffled around, filling the glasses. Imogen swallowed as she thought of how to begin.

"I have loved being here," Imogen said. "And I want to come back. But I have things to finish back in England."

Sabina's lips thinned. "You still vish to attend a school for vizards vhen you are so much more zhan zem?"

"Yes," Imogen said. "I… I think I still have a lot I can learn there."

"And you vish to give your friends Gypsy secrets?" Sabina said. Her voice was becoming low and dangerous.

"No, of course not," Imogen said. "The family I live with there… I h-have to tell them something. But I know they will understand that I can't tell them everything. I won't tell them where the clan is. Just that I found where my papa was from." She had thought through all this before coming to Sabina. What to tell the Potters, what they would accept. "Besides, I'm of age in the wizarding world at the end of the month. I can come back for part of next summer. I want to come back. But I also told them I would be back there, too."

Sabina watched her, her expression severe. Valda looked between the two two of them, a concerned glance, Imogen's cup still in her hand as she stood by Sabina. The old woman's dark expression broke into a warmer smile. "Of course," she said. "You must keep your promises. As long as you promise not to share vat you learned here—"

"No, I won't," Imogen said.

Sabina nodded. "Zen tomorrow perhaps Hal can make you a call. Send you back zair."

Imogen relaxed and took a deep breath. "Thank you for understanding."

"Yes, yes," Sabina said. "Let us drink to ze time you could spend vith us, child."

Valda hesitated, stepping over and handing Imogen the glass. Imogen smiled at Sabina. "Thank you for everything," she said.

"Of course, child," Sabina said. She raised her glass and Imogen followed the gesture.

Imogen sipped at the almost familiar taste of the drink that was so often served at the bonfires and evening celebrations of the clan. There was something behind this, though. It was an aftertaste Imogen didn't recognize. The back of her throat started to tingle and her head felt light. Imogen looked up at Valda, who looked back, horrified. Then the world went black.