Ignatius and Audrey sent a letter back to Hogwarts explaining that Lucy would not be enrolling at Hogwarts in fall. After that they unenrolled Lucy from her muggle school and continued planning how they would homeschool her. Ignatius applied for a homeschooling permit from the ministry of magic, which would allow Lucy to practice underage magic at home without being penalized, and ordered all of her books. Audrey set up a new schedule for the family, in which Ignatius would stay home and practice spells with Lucy in the morning, then leave for work. Lucy would study her books on her own until the afternoon, when Audrey returned from work and would review with Lucy what she'd learned.

The only wrinkle in the plan was Hannah. Lucy's best friend Hannah Brown had turned out to be a muggleborn witch and had gotten a letter of her own. The news of this, combined with the fact that Hannah's parents intended to send her away, cued much tears and screaming from Lucy. Ignatius gritted his teeth and tried to ignore her wailing, then talked to the Browns and offered to homeschool Hannah alongside Lucy. The Browns politely declined, saying they wished to ensure that Hannah got the full wizarding educational experience. Ignatius, his pride wounded, slunk home and informed Lucy that the Prewett family was on their own. Later that night he found a note on his desk in pink marker that proclaimed, "My parents hate me."

Once Hannah was away at school and Lucy had calmed down, he set about beginning homeschool. He'd practice with her in the mornings, helping her make potions and cast spells, then leave her to do book work and write essays. He himself still needed to put in a full eight hours of work and often got home quite late. It was a sacrifice, having to stay so late and continually miss out on family dinners, but Ignatius figured it was worth it. When he looked at his little girl successfully transfiguring buttons, pride swelled inside him. She would forge her own path, as would her sister, and neither would ever know the darkness and pain in their lineage.

Having to homeschool his own child gave Ignatius a new appreciation for teachers and what they did on the job. Planning lessons and teaching one student felt daunting, and he couldn't imagine having to teach a whole group of students with different personalities and skills levels. Imagine if he'd had students like Fred and George thrown into the mix! Thankfully Lucy was, for the most part, an easy student. She was intelligent and had always excelled academically. If she'd been at Hogwarts she likely would have been in the top of her class. There were complaints and rolled eyes and muttered curses, but Ignatius ignored these.

Still, the only wrinkle in the plan was Hannah. Every time Lucy got a letter from Hannah, she would become quiet and distant. After taking a few days to cool off, she would once again ask why she wasn't allowed to go to school. Every time Ignatius had to give her the same excuse: Hogwarts isn't safe. Then the arguments: Hannah's having fun, Hannah's in the choir and gets to sing with a toad, Hannah gets to study astronomy at midnight, why can't I do that too? And so Ignatius had to think of more excuses: people get bullied at boarding schools, toads are poisonous, astronomy will mess up your circadian rhythm, we love you too much to put you through all of that. Then came the arguments: Hannah's parents love her because they don't want her to be stuck at home practicing spells at the kitchen table. Hannah's parents want her to be a normal person who has friends. Then more rebuttals: Hannah's parents don't understand how dangerous wizard school is. Lucy got angrier every time they had one of these arguments. Ignatius knew that Lucy was smart enough to read between the lines and that she probably thought he had a low opinion of Hannah's parents. In reality, he couldn't blame the Browns. He had a perfectly good reason to not send her to school and they had a perfectly good reason to send Hannah away. He couldn't tell her that reason, though, the one about her grandfather being a dangerous individual. She was under the impression that the man was dead.

. . . . . . . . . . .

At Christmas Audrey's father, widowed for several years now, came for dinner. Ignatius pulled Lucy aside and asked if she would demonstrate a few spells for him. "This is a rare opportunity." he reminded her. "Most young wizards have the trace on them, and can't show off their magic at home like this." Lucy rolled her eyes, but went to get her wand. "Excuse me, young lady? Would you like to try that again but more politely this time?"

"I'll go get my wand." Lucy said through gritted teeth.

"Thank you. You are lucky, you know."

"Oh yes. Home alone all day. Don't see my friends anymore, don't get to go to Hogwarts. Absolute lottery win my life is."

"I can't believe this." Ignatius muttered. "The absolute rudeness, the absolute pushing boundaries."

Audrey appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing an apron. "She's not happy with this arrangement, 'Natius. I think we need to revisit the idea of sending her away."

"No. It's an adjustment period, that's all."

"The adjustment period has been going on for several months now. I don't think it's a phase." Audrey sighed and wiped crumbs off her apron. "Now isn't the time to talk about it, but I really think we should consider letting her go next year."

"Nonsense." Ignatius said. "I had this nightmare a few months ago, where Lucy went to Hogwarts. She was running away from something chasing her, and then she bumped into this boy who looked just like my brother George. He pushes her away and says, 'Go away. We didn't want your dad, and we certainly don't want you.' Audrey, we can't expose her to that."

"She doesn't complain to you—"

"Good. I taught both the girls not to complain. Complaining won't get you anywhere in life."

"Let me finish." Audrey said tiredly. "She doesn't complain to you, but she complains to me. This arrangement is hard on her. She misses Hannah, and she feels like she can't talk to her non-magic friends anymore because they wouldn't understand. She's isolated. The only person she has is Molly."

"When will you understand, we are doing this for her safety!" Ignatius hissed. "Her grandfather is a maniac who wishes I was dead! I cannot allow her to be in contact with anyone connected to him!" He was about to say more when his father-in-law's voice boomed from the living room: "Where's our Lucy at? Let's see some magic."

"Coming, Grandpa." Lucy came downstairs and pushed past her parents, her face a mask of calm and her wand held in one hand.

Ignatius and Audrey went into the living room. Grandpa Chris was there already, as was Molly, who was perched in an armchair looking bored. "Just like we've practiced, Lucy." Ignatius held out a matchstick. She grudgingly flicked her wand and turned it into a needle. "Wonderful, wonderful." Ignatius passed the needle to Grandpa Chris, who exclaimed over it, but Ignatius had already moved on to the next spell. He presented Lucy with a small locked box. "This box is locked. Take a look, Grandpa Chris. Locked."

He passed the box to Lucy, who mouthed something that looked suspiciously like, "This is stupid." But she took the box and cast the alohamora spell, causing the lock to spring open.

"And the grand finale!" Ignatius continued. "Grandpa Chris, Lucy is going to make your cup of tea fly around the room!"

Lucy lifted her wand and cast the Wingardium Leviosa charm. The teacup floated in the air and bobbed around the room in a circle. At the last second, though, she lowered her wand and the teacup fell into Ignatius's lap. He gasped as the lukewarm tea splashed over him. "Lucy!"

Grandpa Chris was already on his feet, comforting Lucy. "There there, Lu. You're still learning. I imagine not every wizard gets it right away, huh? Keep practicing and I'm sure you'll get it."

"Yes, we'll keep practicing." Ignatius said tartly. He shot Lucy The Look as he reached for a towel.

"I lost it at the last second." Lucy said to her grandpa. "My wand slipped, and then the teacup went tumbling."

Ignatius waited until his father-in-law left before talking to Lucy. That task was easier said than done, for Grandpa Chris spent another hour or two drinking tea and listening to the radio and talking to Audrey about her nieces and nephews, Jane's and Martin's children. Finally, though, he decided he had better get home before it got too late. Ignatius showed him out, for once only too happy to be rid of his father-in-law.

Audrey told the girls to go to bed as their grandpa left, but Ignatius pulled Lucy aside before she could slip up the stairs. "Lucy. What the ruddy hell was that little display in the living room?"

Lucy looked scared and her cheeks were flaming red, but she managed to say in an offhanded tone, "My wand slipped."

"Your wand did not slip!" he hissed. "You know perfectly well how to perform that spell! I've watched you do it over and over again, no mistakes! We will be practicing that spell over and over come January, until I'm convinced that you can do it right every time!"

"This whole thing is so stupid!" Lucy burst out.

"What, showing magic to your grandpa? Because I think he was very appreciative—"

"No!" Lucy wailed. "All of this! Me sitting at home practicing spells on my own, you being my teacher instead of being my dad, Hannah being away at school while I'm stuck here—all of it! I hate it!"

"Lucy, we've done this for your safety. I've made sacrifices to protect you—"

"I don't care!" She howled. "I don't care what you did, I don't care about my safety! I don't want to be alone all the time anymore!" She was crying too hard now to make any sort of sense, but she stomped her foot for emphasis and stormed up the stairs. A moment later he heard her bedroom door slam.

Ignatius sighed and went back into the kitchen, looking for the brandy. He barely knew what had come over Lucy. He'd always understood her. She was just like him, level-headed and logical and academically inclined. As soon as the school year had started, though, she'd become a completely different kid—distant, moody, prone to loud outbursts, always rolling her eyes and muttering snarky comments under her breath. Was it puberty? Yes, that had to be it. But what did one do with a moody teenage girl? Ignatius sighed again and sipped his brandy. He supposed the only thing he could do with her was become stricter, once the holidays were over.