The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter grey swirled overhead as Harry, Ron, Skylar, and Hermione examined their new course schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, Nick, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of ageing themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament.
"Today's not bad… outside all morning," said Ron, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures… damn it, we're still with the Slytherins…"
"Of course." Skylar sighed.
"Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, looking down. Divination was his least favourite subject, apart from Potions. Professor Trelawney kept predicting Harry's death, which he found extremely annoying.
"You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" said Hermione briskly, buttering herself some toast.
"Or just not done it in the first place like me." Skylar had a free period in the afternoon.
"Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy."
"Arithmancy doesn't seem all that sensible. Reading another language is better." Skylar smiled.
"You already know French, what more do you need?" Harry asked
"I had eleven years to entertain myself with, remember, I read a lot of books and that included learning a few languages. Sue me." Skylar shrugged.
"You're eating again, I notice," said Ron, who was ignoring Harry and Skylar's conversation and was watching Hermione add liberal amounts of jam to her toast too.
"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," said Hermione haughtily.
"Yeah… and you were hungry," said Ron, grinning.
There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. Instinctively, Harry looked up, but there was no sign of white among the mass of brown and grey. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville Longbottom and deposited a parcel into his lap — Neville almost always forgot to pack something. On the other side of the Hall Draco Malfoy's eagle owl had landed on his shoulder, carrying what looked like his usual supply of sweets and cakes from home.
Harry simply returned to his porridge with disappointment.
"Hey Sky." They all looked up to find Stephen Cornfoot had approached the table and was smiling at the girl.
"Hey Stephen."
"I didn't get to see you at the Cup." He said. "Sorry about that."
"That's alright, there was a lot going on, were you alright?" She asked, frowning.
"Mum and I managed, we stayed in the forest while the Ministry dealt with it all. What about you guys?"
"We came out uninjured. How was the rest of your holidays?"
"Pretty normal, went to Dragon Alley for my things and all, did you notice the list had dress robes on it?"
"Yeah, it's part of the Tournament, there's a ball around Christmas we get to attend." Skylar smiled.
"A ball!?" Ron demanded, choking on his breakfast as he gasped.
"Don't worry I'm going to send mum a letter about your dress robes." Skylar assured him.
"But a ball as in where people partner up and dance?" Ron asked, looking a bit green.
"Yeah." Skylar smiled. "I can't wait!"
"How do you know about that?"
"My dad's in the Ministry and you can't keep anything from a Legilmens so."
"Does that mean you know all the tasks?"
"No, no I don't know that much, Dad was very careful with that information, apparently it's all supposed to be very secretive as to test the champions." She said,
"You were saying something about dragons?" Harry said.
"And Charlie said he'd see us soon and he works with dragons so…"
"You think there'll be dragons in one of the tasks?" Hermione asked, surprised.
"Who knows, but it'll be very exhilarating to watch, don't you think?" Skylar grinned.
"And I thought you'd be disappointed about no Quidditch." Stephen chuckled.
"Well, a small sacrifice I suppose." She shrugged.
"We'd better get going if we want to reach the Greenhouses before class starts." Hermione said, checking her watch.
"I'll catch you a bit later then." Stephen waved.
"See you in Ancient Runes." Skylar nodded as they all got up.
"I'm surprised he's still bothering you." Ron said as they walked out of the Great Hall.
"He's not bothering me." Skylar rolled her eyes.
"He's bothering me."
"How?"
"Always popping up, it's weird."
"It's called having friends," Skylar corrected. "Maybe you should get some." She grinned. Ron sent her a scowl as they headed for Greenhouse three, past the sodden vegetable patch. They arrived to find Professor Sprout showing the class the ugliest plants ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.
"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout told them briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus —"
"The what?" said Seamus Finnigan, sounding revolted.
"Pus, Finnigan, pus," said Professor Sprout, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus."
Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints.
"This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."
"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."
"Silly girl," said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."
A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signalling the end of the lesson, and the class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound, Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely. As they drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.
"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning at Harry, Skylar, Ron, and Hermione. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this — Blast-Ended Skrewts!"
"Come again?" said Ron.
Hagrid pointed down into the crates.
"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward.
"Eurgh" just about summed up the Blast-Ended Skrewts. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish. Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches.
"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"
"And why would we want to raise them?" said a cold voice.
The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling appreciatively at his words.
Hagrid looked stumped at the question, but Skylar couldn't help but agree. Knowing Hagrid, these creatures wouldn't grow up to be harmless, especially if one of their ends blasted fire.
"I mean, what do they do?" asked Draco. "What is the point of them?"
Hagrid opened his mouth, apparently thinking hard; there was a few seconds' pause, then he said roughly, "Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things — I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer — I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake — just try 'em out with a bit of each."
"First pus and now this," muttered Seamus.
Nothing but deep affection for Hagrid could have made Harry, Ron, Skylar, and Hermione pick up squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower them into the crates to tempt the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Harry couldn't suppress the suspicion that the whole thing was entirely pointless, because the skrewts didn't seem to have mouths.
"Ouch!" yelled Dean Thomas after about ten minutes. "It got me!"
Hagrid hurried over to him, looking anxious.
"Its end exploded!" said Dean angrily, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.
"Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off," said Hagrid, nodding.
"Eurgh!" said Lavender Brown again. "Eurgh, Hagrid, what's that pointy thing on it?"
"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," said Hagrid enthusiastically (Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box). "I reckon they're the males… The females've got sorta sucker things on their bellies… I think they might be ter suck blood."
"Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," said Draco sarcastically. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"
"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"
Harry and Ron grinned at Hagrid, who gave them a furtive smile from behind his bushy beard. Hagrid would have liked nothing better than a pet dragon, as Harry, Ron, Skylar, and Hermione knew only too well — he had owned one for a brief period during their first year, a vicious Norwegian Ridgeback by the name of Norbert. Hagrid simply loved monstrous creatures, the more lethal, the better.
"I hate to agree with him, but I do have to say Draco's got a point this time…" Skylar mumbled as they made their way back up to the castle for lunch an hour later.
"Well, at least the skrewts are small," said Ron.
"They are now," said Hermione in an exasperated voice, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."
"Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?" said Ron, grinning slyly at her.
"You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up," said Hermione. "As a matter of fact I think he's right. The best thing to do would be to stamp on the lot of them before they start attacking us all."
They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Hermione began to eat so fast that Skylar, Harry and Ron stared at her.
"You're going to give yourself a stomach ache, Hermione." Skylar warned.
"Er — is this the new stand on elf rights?" said Ron. "You're going to make yourself puke instead?"
"No," said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. "I just want to get to the library."
"What?" said Ron in disbelief. "Hermione — it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!"
Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food as though she had not eaten for days. Then she leapt to her feet, said, "See you at dinner!" and departed at high speed.
"What?!" Ron demanded.
"She's going to go and research house-elves." Skylar sighed. "I think this is going to get very out of hand."
When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Harry and Ron set off for North Tower where, at the top of a tightly spiralling staircase, a silver stepladder led to a circular trap-door in the ceiling, and the room where Professor Trelawney lived. Hermione and Skylar had Ancient Runes where they studied ancient symbols and scripts and deciphered their meaning. Stephen Cornfoot came and joined the two girls at their table but little conversation ensured. It was not a subject where one could miss the instructions and still scrape past.
While the boys had Double Divination, Hermione had Arithmancy afterwards, Skylar however went up to the common room, as she had no classes. She paused halfway down the hallway however and glanced out the window to where she could see the Whomping Willow. There was something Skylar had been pondering on for a while, she just wasn't sure whether she should go ahead with it or not…
Deciding to be a bit bold, Skylar turned away from the Gryffindor Common room and back down the hallways. She continued until she was standing outside Professor McGonagall's office. Whether she was inside would determine Skylar's course of action.
The girl knocked.
There was a moment and then the door opened, revealing the professor.
Skylar didn't know how she felt, was this a good thing?
"Miss Rosenwald, why are you not in class?"
"Free period Professor." Skylar admitted.
"Very well, what can I do for you?"
"Well…" she said awkwardly. "I was wondering if maybe I could talk to you about the possibility of whether or not I could learn a bit more about the likelihood of me becoming an animagus…?"
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow and was looking at her seriously. Skylar looked at her before frowning, but as she looked the teacher in the eye, she then looked surprised.
"Supposed it was only a matter of time before one of you considered it." Skylar knew she was talking about her and her brothers.
"Come in, Miss Rosenwald, we'll have a talk." And she stood aside to let Skylar in.
The previous year, when Sirius had been skulking around the School grounds as a large black dog, Skylar had immersed herself in the idea of animagi, having been one of five people alive to know of his ability to do this. Her father had become one when he was fifteen, along with three of his friends, she had even received a book from her younger brother Leon on the subject, and every new information brought her more fascination about the idea.
After discovering all her father and friends did to accomplish the ability, and why, she had been pondering on whether or not it was something she wanted. What a better place to find out than from someone who'd done it, and not done it illegally like her father.
"Now then." McGonagall began as she sat down and indicated for Skylar to do the same. "Why do you want to become an animagus?"
Skylar paused for a moment, thinking.
"Well, with my dad being one it's always interested me, for a while, and although I'm not set on what my future after school holds, because of my parents being Aurors, that path has appealed to me, and if that is the path I go, I feel like this might be helpful. Plus I've always had a knack for Transfiguration and would like to challenge myself." She said.
Maybe she'd put more thought into this than she'd originally thought.
"You realise it's not an easy task to undergo?" McGonagall warned.
"I'd be surprised if it was, Professor."
"Are you sure this is the right year for you to undergo such a task?"
"Well, with next year being O.W.L year and N.E.W.T year following that, I doubt it's best left till later. But I know the Triwizard Tournament takes a lot of time." She figured the witch may be too busy to help.
"Well, the process is extremely difficult and can result in disaster if done incorrectly. You must keep a single mandrake leaf in your mouth for an entire month, from full moon to full moon. If the leaf is removed or swallowed, you will have to start over again."
"Any tips for how to eat and not swallow the leaf?" Skylar wondered.
"I found putting it under your tongue is helpful." Professor McGonagall said and Skylar nodded.
"After that, at the next visible full moon you must spit the leaf in a phial within range of the moon's pure rays. If it's a cloudy night, you'll have to start over." Skylar nodded. "To the moon-struck phial, you must add one of your own hairs, a silver teaspoon of dew that has not seen sunlight or been touched by human feet for seven days, and the chrysalis of a Death's-head Hawk Moth. The mixture must be put in a quiet, dark place and cannot be in any way disturbed.
"Next, you have to wait for an electrical storm, whenever that might be. During this waiting period you must, at sunrise and sundown without fail, chant the incantation Amato Animo Animato Animagus with the tip of your wand placed over the heart. When, at last, there is a lightning storm, you ought to move immediately to a large and secure place, recite the incantation one final time, and then drink the potion. This completes the process. It can be lengthy and unpredictable. Now, are you sure you wish to continue?"
"The hardest part seems to be the mandrake leaf?" Skylar thought, frowning slightly. "Unless we don't have the ingredients."
"Professor Snape has plenty of the necessary requirements." Professor McGonagall assured her.
"Is it wise that I do this?" Skylar asked.
Professor McGonagall smiled at her. "I have faith in your capabilities Miss Rosenwald, or I would not be telling you the process. However, I will notify the Headmaster first."
"Well, if professor Dumbledore says otherwise, then I don't think I know enough to argue." Skylar confessed.
"Have you informed your friends about this decision?"
"Not yet." Skylar confessed.
"Alright. I will inform you of his thoughts on the idea, and until then I suggest you go about your days. We'll discuss it further afterwards."
"Thank you Professor." Skylar smiled.
At the end of the period, Skylar made her way down to the Great Hall ahead of many others, Hermione, Harry and Ron were yet to arrive. There was a large cue in the entrance hall to stream into the Great Hall and Skylar joined it with many others.
"Hey Skylar!" She turned to see Draco waving the Daily Prophet to get her attention.
She debated for a minute before she sighed and went over.
"Yes Draco?" She asked.
"Your friend Weasley's dad's in the paper!" He grinned.
"And you're going to make a mockery of it, what a shock." She sighed. "Don't you ever get tired of bullying people?" She asked.
Draco wasn't listening, he'd just spotted Harry, Hermione and Ron coming down the Marble Staircase.
"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to find Skylar with Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.
"What?" said Ron shortly.
"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!
FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.
Malfoy looked up.
"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed.
"Wow Draco, you actually paid enough attention to know Ron's dad's name, properly?" Skylar asked. "What a lovely thing for you to do." She mocked, giving him a glare to stop reading. Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Draco ignored Skylar, straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:
Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.
"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house — if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"
Skylar was gapping at Draco while Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.
"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry. "C'mon, Ron…"
"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"
"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry — both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Draco — "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"
Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.
"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."
"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry, turning away.
BANG!
Draco had pulled his wand out and shot a spell at Harry. Skylar had ducked slightly while several people screamed — Harry felt something white-hot graze the side of his face — he plunged his hand into his robes for his wand, but before he'd even touched it, there was a second loud BANG, and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.
"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"
Skylar's mouth was dropped open as Draco had vanished and now in his place was a pure white ferret which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor.
Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at the Draco-ferret.
There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry — at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.
Skylar had crouched down beside the white ferret and was still gapping at it in amazement.
"Did he get you?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.
"No," said Harry, "missed."
Crabbe leaned down beside Skylar to pick up the Draco-Ferret when Moody suddenly shouted.
"LEAVE IT!"
"Leave — what?" Harry said, bewildered.
"Not you — him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who froze in his actions. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.
Moody started to limp toward Skylar, Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, jumping right at Skylar. She ducked as he landed on her head and looked completely stunned and frozen with no idea what to do.
"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again — it flew ten feet into the air off of Skylar who stood up and stepped back instantly, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.
"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"
The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.
"Never — do — that — again —" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.
"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.
Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.
"What — what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.
"Teaching," said Moody.
"Teach — Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.
"Yep," said Moody.
"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.
"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall weakly. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"
"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock —"
"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"
"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Draco with great dislike.
Draco, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.
"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy… You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him that from me… Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"
"Yes," said Draco resentfully.
"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape… Come on, you…"
And he seized Draco's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons.
Skylar was still standing there gapping, she was sitting halfway between utter amusement and complete shock, she even felt a bit bad for Draco, being smashed against the floor like that.
Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.
"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly as Skylar hurried after them, moving into the Great Hall to sit down at the Gryffindor table with Hermione and Harry.
"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.
"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret…"
Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates.
"He could have really hurt Malfoy, though," she said. "It was good, really, that Professor McGonagall stopped it —"
"Hermione!" said Ron furiously, his eyes snapping open again, "you're ruining the best moment of my life!"
"Imagine being smacked against the floor like that though… think it'll teach a better lesson than detention?" Skylar wondered.
Hermione made an impatient noise and began to eat at top speed again.
"Don't tell me you're going back to the library this evening?" said Harry, watching her.
"Got to," said Hermione thickly. "Loads to do."
"But you told us Professor Vector —"
"It's not schoolwork," she said. Within five minutes, she had cleared her plate and departed. No sooner had she gone than her seat was taken by Fred Weasley.
"Moody!" he said. "How cool is he?"
"Beyond cool," said George, sitting down opposite Fred.
"Supercool," said the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George.
"Great to get an idea of field work with." Nick agreed as he joined them.
"We had him this afternoon," George told Harry and Ron.
"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly.
Fred, George, Nick, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.
"Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.
"He knows, man," said Lee.
"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward.
"Knows what it's like to be out there doing it," said George impressively.
"Doing what?" said Harry.
"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Fred.
"He's seen it all," said George.
" 'Mazing," said Lee.
Ron dived into his bag for his schedule. "We haven't got him till Thursday!" he said in a disappointed voice.
"Well, that's at least a good way to end the week." Skylar said thinking.