Rose was accustomed to owls coming in and out of her house at all hours, though she did find herself missing the routine flutter of wings every morning over breakfast at the Gryffindor table. It seemed like whenever they had just sat down for dinner, there would be a beating of wings at the window, calling one of her parents away. On Boxing Day, Rose had finally readied herself for more food after the sumptuous dinner from the evening prior when there was an unfamiliar bird swooping through after her father.

"Charlie's in— Norway?" said Ron, unfurling the letter. "Happy Christmas to everyone, yada yada, he hopes we are well…. They've settled for a month, then on to the next…. Rose, he says that Marco had something for you from Durmstrang—"

"What?" cried Rose, half rising from her seat.

"—but they weren't allowed to take anything off the grounds with them," he continued with a frown. "Some sort of security thing— go figure, eh?"

Unexpected tears filled Rose's eyes before she had the chance to fight them back. The Riders had been at Durmstrang, and Marco had kept his word and found Dmitri. Dmitri was there, then— she hadn't realized how worried she had been about his safety. But the letter, the bloody letter she had waited so long for had been taken!

She was glad that Hugo was at the Potters' for dinner. Her father was still reading pieces from Charlie's letter, but she was letting the words wash over her.

"Ron," her mother interjected, "could you run upstairs and get my slippers from the closet? These socks are so thin."

Ron looked up from the letter, frowning. "Slippers?"

"Yes, please," said Hermione sweetly.

Shrugging, Ron left the kitchen and disappeared towards the stairs. Hermione pulled her chair closer to Rose, who was bowing her head so her hair would mask her face.

"Oh, love," sighed Hermione, wrapping an arm around Rose's shoulders. "Was that about your friend? The one from the Tournament?"

"I've been waiting for him to write back," said Rose, sniffling, "and he's been trying! This means he's still trying."

"Durmstrang can be rather strict about security," said Hermione. "It doesn't surprise me that they're going through the mail. Maybe they don't want their students in contact with anyone from Hogwarts."

Rose fought to regain control of her emotions. She had known it was possible that Durmstrang had been intercepting her letters, but knowing that Dmitri had received them and was trying to respond somehow made the lack of communication more painful.

"I'll just have to keep trying," said Rose, steadying her breathing.

She had herself back under control but the time her father came thunking down the stairs and back into the kitchen.

"They're not in the closet," he said, "so I brought you mine."

"Thank you," said Hermione with a soft smile. "I must have left them at your sister's a few nights ago."

Rose appreciated her mother giving her a moment to calm herself. She was able to put Dmitri out of her mind as her father continued reading Uncle Charlie's letter.

"It sounds like he's going to be staying with the Riders a while longer," continued Ron. "Mentions that woman Maria a few times. They have this Norwegian witch staying for the month making food, so he's happy. Said he got word from Teddy— how did Teddy track him down? Anyway, Charlie will be back for the wedding this summer."

"I still don't know what to get them," mused Hermione. "I need to talk to Fleur about what she's planning."

"We could do that picnic basket thing again," said Ron hopefully.

"That was Neville's idea! We can't steal it."

"It was his gram's idea," Ron corrected her, "and unless she's somehow coming to the wedding, we should be fine."

Rose remained quiet through most of the meal. She enjoyed listening to her parents discuss something besides their jobs with the Ministry. It made for a nice change.

She told Albus about Charlie's letter the next day. He hadn't considered the possibility that Durmstrang would be monitoring the mail.

"Do they do that at Hogwarts?" he asked, eyes wide. "Read our letters and stuff?"

"No," said Rose, but as soon as the word left her mouth, she realized that it was only a guess. She didn't think that anyone was monitoring their mail, but she wouldn't have any way of knowing unless they were told, would she?

She spent most of that evening in the Scamander library with Lysander. As excited as she was to have so many new books to read, she wanted to be able to leave some of them behind when returning to school. There was only so much space in her trunk!

Lysander seemed preoccupied and left Rose to her own thoughts. He and Rose sat in a comfortable silence as they read their separate books. Rose's newest series was about the king of some far off land and the custody battle over his wife's pet demiguise. Ludicrous, certainly, but Rose again found herself easily drawn into this new world.

"Tea?" Lysander asked some time after chapter eight. Rose grunted her affirmation. A mug floated down and settled on the table beside her couch.

"Thanks," she murmured, marking her place and setting her book down.

Lysander was still reading, not looking away from his book as he fumbled his wand back into his pocket.

"Lysander. Lysander!"

"What?" he said, startled. He hadn't seemed to hear her first iteration of his name. "What is it?"

"No magic outside school!" she cried, pointing to his wand. "Lysander!"

It took him a moment to realize what had just happened.

"I— oh," he said, face still distorted in confusion. I wasn't really thinking,"

"You dolt," said Rose with a groan.

Lysander grinned, seeming far less worried than Rose deemed appropriate, and began to stir his tea.

Rose kept glancing at the door, expecting a Ministry wizard to sweep in with some kind of citation, some angry decree of Lysander's wrongdoing. As the minutes ticked on, however, the door remained closed.

"Apparently the Ministry has more important things to do than scold me for making tea," said Lysander after a few more moments of tense silence. "Drink up before it's cold."

Rose (she was embarrassed to realize) was slightly disappointed. Throughout her childhood, her parents had impressed on her the importance of not using a wand while not in school. There had been late night stories where her father had let slip that Uncle Harry had once had a full Ministry trial for underage magic.

"Ronald!" her mother had cried, dropping her journal onto her lap with a huff. "You're going to scare them."

"It turned out alright," her father had added quickly. "Bit of a long story, really. Lots of other stuff going on at the time."

"A story for another night,"Hermione had said firmly. "Bed, both of you."

Perhaps her father had just been exaggerating about what happened to Uncle Harry. No one seemed to care that Lysander had Summoned tea for the them.

"We probably shouldn't tell James about this," said Rose, finally picking up her mug. "He'll be off trying to duel Louis before we know it."

"Agreed," said Lysander.

Rose settled back into her novel, sipping her tea as she considered the plight of these new characters. As she had predicted, the king was beginning to have second thoughts about his wife, and not just because of her demiguise (which seemed like more of a burden than a boon, but Rose had never had a strong care for magical creatures.)

Luna came in an hour later to urge them both to get some rest.

"Your books will still be there in the morning," she said firmly. "And Lysander, were you doing magic in here?"

"A bit," he said, wincing. "I wasn't thinking."

"Well, I got an owl from the Ministry," said Aunt Luna, "and they'd like to remind you not to use your wand outside of Hogwarts."

"Is he in a lot of trouble?" asked Rose. "Is he going to go to court like Uncle Harry did?"

A startled laugh escaped from Aunt Luna. "Oh no," she said, "of course not! That was all because of the dementors that had been sent to kill him anyway."

Rose and Lysander exchanged a curious look. They would certainly have to get the full story another time.

The next say saw no snow, so Albus and James insisted on flying, eager to take advantage of the clear skies. Albus seemed genuinely concerned about not being prepared to return to Quidditch practice after returning to school. Rose agreed to referee for a bit, but ducked out after lunch. It was just too frosty to be outdoors for so long, and her mum's heating charms only held up for so long.

She told her mum that she was going to do some schoolwork, though secretly she intended to return to her novel. When she entered her room, however, she was met with a gust of frigid air. The window had apparently blown open — but Rose's eyes remained stuck on the large black bird on her bed. It had a hooked grey beak, pointed talons which dug into her bed sheets — and a large roll of parchment tethered to one of its legs.

Rose hurriedly closed her window, then rushed to sit on her bed. The gloomy bird held out its leg without prompting, allowing Rose to remove its load. She nearly ripped the parchment in her rush to unfurl it. Her heart caught in her throat as she read:

Rose,

I don't know where to begin. It has been so long but I have written so much already! Marco told me you never got to any of my letters. I have started to think you no longer wanted to write, but he said I am wrong.

Where must I begin? It has been a year! I have the owl you sent here. She was sick but I sent her back after she got better. I gave her a letter — but she came back a week later and had the letter still. I tried again and she flew back to me. I used different owl, and it did not bring back the letter, but you never responded. I tried again.

Marco told me that you do not have any of my letters. I gave him a letter for you, but he wrote to me to say it has been taken. Now I have this letter for you. I am giving it to a friend who is going away into the city for a meeting. He said he will get it with a bird for you. I trust him to do it. I keep having hope.

I am catching up well with my classes. It was hard first, but now it is not. The other students helped me. We have a language tutor here who helps me with my English. She wants me to learn Mandarin but another new set of letters is difficult. I want to speak in French next, the letters are almost all the same.

I have one letter from an old friend of ours. He sent a gift last year on my birthday. I do not know how he knew. I have it in my box of precious things.

I was with Marco as much as possible when he was here. He told me a lot about you. I think you are a crazy girl for going near the dragons, but you already know that. He says you are all well. He did not know the small witch twins when I asked.

I am here at school all year. It is now my fourth year and I am current with my work. I am hoping that I can be an apprentice with a wand crafter but it is hard and others wanted to. Doing it I could travel and maybe see you again.

I can only travel into the city for a meeting or with my teacher. I will try and have a reason in a few months so I can mail you again. The bird with this letter can be sent back here. We do not use owls much like you, so this should not make notice. Do not say things too private, I do not trust how I can get letters.

I miss you all a lot. Next year will be a new tournament, but I will not go. I have no interest in that thing. Please do not go, do not to let the others go.

I will make a list, what I will tell you for our next letter. I do not want to forget anything!

Vrana

Rose touched the parchment lightly, as if worried it would disintegrate. Her eyes stung, but she did not let herself cry. Instead, she rolled the letter back up and set it on her desk.

"Wait here," she said, eyeing the dark bird warily. "I need to send you back with my response."

The bird stared at her, or perhaps not - it was hard to track the position of its dark eyes.

Rose ran downstairs, flying past her perplexed mother and out to the back door. She kept running until she had reach the center of the Grange where the others were flying overhead. When did, she panted as she tried to wave Albus down. It took him a minute to notice, and a minute longer to catch James and signal for a timeout.

"Hey," he said, hovering so his feet barely brushed the frost-bitten grass. "Food again already?"

Rose gave him a quick summary of Dmitri's letter. He plopped down on the ground, not seeming to be aware that his feet were back on the ground.

"What're you going to say?" he finally asked, then hurriedly added, "Can I help? I want to tell him things too."

"We'll have to use some kind of code," said Rose. "I'll figure out some wording. After dinner we can sit and write it out."

"See if we can use the twins' library," suggested Albus. "Lily has been fighting with Mum and Dad for the past few days and she's back to blowing things up when she gets in a temper."

"She's running out of time where she can still say it's accidental magic," said Rose, shaking her head. "I'll go ask. They're probably going to want to add things too."

She was shivering by the time she reached the Scamander house. Rose had not stopped to throw on a jacket or cloak before leaving the house, which she now regretted.

Aunt Luna was sitting in the living room with Lorcan, peering over an open book and spread of papers. Both looked up when Rose closed the door.

"Sorry," said Rose automatically, clutching her arms against her chest.

"Oh Rose," said Aunt Luna, pulling out her wand. "May I?"

Rose nodded eagerly. With a flick of Aunt Luna's wand, Rose was engulfed in a comfortable blanket of heat.

"Thank you," said Rose, wiping her boots on the mat. "I forgot my jacket."

"Tell me it's good news," groaned Lorcan. It took Rose a moment to place his expression, which looked entirely out of place on his face. Lorcan was wearing an irritated sort of snarl.

"I got a letter from Dmitri," said Rose. "Can we meet here after dinner to write back? I wanted to include you and Lysander."

"He'll be thrilled," muttered Lorcan.

"Of course you can," said Aunt Luna, smiling tightly. "Lorcan, don't be rude."

Lorcan made a sour face but said nothing.

"Lysander is in the library," continued Aunt Luna. "He'll be happy to hear about your friend."

Rose knew it was her aunt's polite way of getting back to her conversation with her son. She ducked out of the room, the magical warmth still encompassing her as she walked down the hall.

Lysander was in his usual chair, an empty mug beside him as he read. Rose hoped that this time, he had remembered not to use his magic.

"I saw Lorcan on my way in," said Rose when Lysander looked up. "What's going on?"

"Mum told him he can't take lessons with Trelawney anymore," said Lysander. "He still thinks he can get her to change her mind, but I told her how sick he's been getting and how it's been affecting me."

Rose raised her brows. "Emotional manipulation?" she said mildly. "How very Slytherin of you."

"Well it's the truth," said Lysander defensively. "He can't keep going on this way."

"I'm not here to argue," said Rose. She quickly explained what she had learned from Uncle Charlie's letter and what Dmitri had sent her. Lysander agreed that they should all sit and contribute to the response. Rose was itching to begin their letter immediately, but knew that the others wouldn't be happy if they weren't included.

Instead, she distracted herself with more reading. Aunt Luna had pulled some interesting books about Ancient Runes, and Rose forced herself to spend some time with them. She hadn't told her parents about struggling at school, and she had no plans to do so. She could catch up. She would.

She found herself thinking about Dmitri instead of the runes she was trying to study. In all fairness, she had first been thinking about the runes down on the third floor near the generation room — and then the last time she had visited the room with Dmitri. Biting her lip, she stared down at the markings on the page, determined to absorb them. Memorization should be easy.

Lysander came to peer over her shoulder, which caused the hairs on the back of Rose's neck stand up. She hated people watching her study.

"I can do this," said Rose irritably, flipping to the next page. "I just need to focus."

"I didn't say anything," said Lysander. "I'll go grab some food."

Rose found it easier to concentrate when she had something to eat. She used one hand to pick at potato crisps while the other traced the runes in the book. These were from the 1300's when they still used runes for special communications. They were simpler than previous years, and Rose began to make the connection between the shapes and their meanings.

Albus and Lorcan came in together carrying more food. Lorcan looked less upset than earlier, and Albus' cheeks were tinged with pink and a thin layer of frost.

"Mum said to be careful with the food," said Lorcan, setting down the large dish of pasta on one of the tables. "Doesn't want bugs getting in here."

"She had plenty of pest charms," said Lysander, "it'll be fine."

Albus filled a bowl with pasta while Rose set out parchment alongside her inkwell and quill. The three boys sat and Albus passed Rose her food.

"So," said Albus," how are we doing this?"

"We need to use some kind of code," said Rose, "so it won't get taken if someone stops that— whatever that bird was. I'm sticking with Miriam."

"Well we don't have middle names," said Lysander, looking to his twin.

"I could use Sev," said Albus with a shrug.

"We don't really need names," said Lorcan. "Just call me his favorite Seer."

"Favorite artist," said Lysander firmly. "Do you think they'll take kindly to a letter mentioning he knows a Seer?"

"So you'll be the artist," said Albus before Lorcan could respond, "and Lysander, you can be the bookworm."

After they had agreed on new names, it should have been easy to write the actual letter. However, they kept running into issues with other phrasing.

"We can just say school," said Albus.

"But what if they're looking for things from Hogwarts?" countered Rose.

"Then call it something else," said Lorcan. "Call it Barnaby's or something."

Rose shot him a quizzical look but wrote down the name of their new fictitious school.

They all took turns listing things they wanted Dmitri to know, and Rose jotted each line down. They ended up with quite a long list when they had exhausted themselves of ideas.

"Well," said Rose, looking the list over, "I'll have to get these in some sort of order and write it all out."

"I feel bad that Scorpius isn't here to say anything," said Albus.

"I don't think I'd be able to send him an owl and hear back in time," said Rose, "and who knows if the letter would get through anyway. His dad's probably as paranoid as Durmstrang right now."

"You should eat and then write it out," said Lysander.

Rose had been too busy writing to eat her pasta. She was certain it was cold by now, but she had always liked leftover pasta. She quickly ate as the boys discussed that afternoon's Quidditch scrimmage.

"I feel better now," said Abus, "I was just worried about being out of practice for so long. You know how Cameron's been this year."

"You all keep talking about how Hufflepuff is going to win," said Lorcan casually, "but Ravenclaw did beat them."

"That was luck," laughed Albus, "nothing but luck. You were dying out there until your Seeker caught the snitch."

"A win's a win," shrugged Lorcan.

Rose began her proper letter on a new sheet of parchment. She tried to put everything in a logical order while maintaining enough of a code to not raise suspicion. Or so she hoped.

"Sev has joined his brother in the league," Albus read over Rose's shoulder. She fought the urge to scold him. "They are both full members and have done well so far this year."

"Your favorite artist continues to improve," Lorcan read from another place on the page, "though he hasn't drawn you in a long time. He continues to study, even— even though it's been making him ill? Rose!"

"Well he should know!" said Rose defensively. "See, I even mentioned that your brother has been nattering you about it."

"It looks good," said Albus, scanning the letter. "We've been having quite the time at good old Barnaby."

"He better have sent a big bird," said Lysander with a grin.

"Oh, it's not that long," scolded Rose. "I want to get this sent tonight, though. I don't want that thing sleeping in my room."

When Rose returned to her room, the creature had relocated to her large dresser, where it appeared to be sleeping. She approached it cautiously, not wanting to startle it out of its slumber. Right as she reached out to touch its wing, the bird's eyes slipped open.

"I need you to take this to Durmstrang Academy," she said to the bird, attaching the letter to the leather thong around its leg. "Durmstrang Academy. Dmitri Romolov. No one else, only Dmitri, please. Please."

The bird stared at Rose— at first she thought its eyes were blank, but then she saw a spark of intelligence somewhere within.

"Dmitri Romolov," she repeated one last time before opening her window. The bird hopped onto the windowsill, then dove outside, opening its wings to catch the night breeze.

Rose went downstairs to find her mother. Instead, it was her father who was reading the Evening Prophet by the fire.

"Rosie," he said, setting down the paper, "you're back at last."

"I finally heard from Dmitri," she said, sitting beside him on the couch. "We were figuring out what to write back to him."

Ron sighed heavily. "Another wager lost to your mother," he said mournfully. "She knew that's what the dreadful bird was here for. She brought it food earlier. Not sure where she found the rats."

Rose shuddered.

"Dead, of course," her father amended. "She had an old friend from Durmstrang, see, so we would get letters like that from time to time. Dunno why they can't stick to owls like normal wizards."

"Where is Mum?" asked Rose.

"Oh, some emergency at work," said Rose, flipping through the newspaper without glancing down. "Nothing to worry about."

"Alright," said Rose, trying not to let her suspicion be evident in her voice. "I'm going to get ready for bed. It's been a long day."

She kissed her father's head as she passed, her mind already working. Her mother had only been called to work overnight a handful of times throughout her childhood, and made a point of using her vacation time during the winter holidays so that she wouldn't miss out on time with her children. Her father might claim that there was nothing to worry about, but for Hermione to leave at this hour, it had to be a legitimate emergency.

But when her mother returned the following morning, she insisted that there was nothing for Rose to be concerned about. Rose tried to squeeze more information out of her, but Hermione simply shrugged and said that it was all resolved.

"I have to go back and fill out a few reports," sighed Hermione, rubbing her temples with her knuckles. "Just wanted to stop back for some food. And of course, to see my favorite girl in the world."

She planted a kiss on Rose's forehead before returning to the fireplace. With a long sigh, she tossed in a handful of Floo powder and was gone.

As Rose cleared away breakfast, there was a tentative knock on the back door.

"Come in!" she said.

Roxie stuck her head inside, looking around nervously. "Hey Rose," she said, "you busy?"

"No," said Rose, "come on in! What's up?"

"Where is everyone?" asked Roxie as she closed the door and brushed snow flurries off her hair.

"Mum and Dad are both working," said Rose. "Hugo is trying to spend time with Lily."

"Trying?"

Rose shrugged. "She's different now," she said. "She and Hugo used to do everything together, and now they've got their own lives and all new friends."

Roxie nodded. "I get it," she said. "Lucy and I were pretty much the same when we were their age. Then we went to Hogwarts."

"Lucy was always going to end up just like Molly," said Rose with a laugh. "So, what're you up to today?"

Roxie sighed and collapsed into an arm chair. "Mum and Dad are trying to get me to help out more at the shop," she said. "Over the summer I said I would, just so they'd stop asking, but I can't stand all of the noise all the time."

"Feel free to hide out here," offered Rose with a grin. "I was going to stay inside today anyway. I could use the company."

Roxie opened her satchel and drew out one of her sketch pads. There were pieces of colorful fabric sticking out of the sides, making the cover budge unevenly.

"I'm finally getting somewhere with all of this," said Roxie. "I have this collection I've been working on, and I may get to do a fashion show soon."

"Oh!" exclaimed Rose.

"Nothing too big," said Roxie quickly, "there's just this charity event I've been looking at, and if I do it, maybe the right people will see the pieces. It's a start, at the very least."

"It sounds like a great opportunity," said Rose.

"Yeah, but Mum has to sign off on the entry form," explained Roxie. "I'd have to leave school for a day. I've talked to Randor and he's fine approving it, but I don't know if Mum will go for it."

"Well, I think you should do it," said Rose. "It's not like you're doing anything wrong."

"She thinks it's silly," huffed Roxie, "but I— I feel like I could really do something here, you know? I'll try talking to her before we go back to school."

Rose didn't see Roxie after that afternoon. She thought about taking a trip to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to see how the conversation had gone, but Hugo ended up with a nasty cold and begged her to stay home with him. She sat at the foot of his bed and played games with him for four days, patiently listening as he recounted the Hufflepuff team's most recent victory.

"I'm gonna try out next year," he said firmly, seemingly unaware that his nose was dripping again. "Even if they make me a Reserve, like Al was, that's something! And then I can keep practicing with them and make the team, just like he did."

"You've got it all planned out," said Rose, squinting at the cards in her hand. "Then again, we could still come back and win the Cup this year."

Hugo gave her a dubious look that made her laugh— he could tell that her heart wasn't in the comment, but she tried for his sake.

The night before the children were set to return to school, James found out about Lysander's accidental use of magic. Rose and Hugo retreated to their home for a quiet family dinner while the Potters attempted to keep their eldest son under control, arguing against what he insisted was his newfound freedom.

Hermione had put together a wonderful meal with which to send her children off. She and Ron had come up with more questions for Hugo about his time at school. Ron still seemed intrigued by Hugo's stories about the Hufflepuff common room.

"I was there once," said Ron, "but it was one of those formals sorts of tours after they finished rebuilding the castle. I don't remember most of it. Terribly early morning, and they were nattering all of us about being on the board of governors."

Rose gaped at her father. "The board of governors for Hogwarts?" she asked. "And you said no?"

"We were still so young," said Hermione quickly as Ron opened his mouth to respond. "At that point, people were offering us all kinds of ridiculous positions we simply were not qualified for."

"A sultan tried to buy your mother from the Ministry," said Ron with a devilish grin. "Heard that she was the brightest witch from Hogwarts and excellent with battle magic."

"Which I'm not," clarified Hermione sternly. "Just a ridiculous rumor. Kingsley reminded the poor fellow—"

"The rich poor fellow," Ron interjected.

"—that we do not sell people in the Ministry's jurisdiction. He was quite put out by the rejection."

"So you could've been a queen?" asked Hugo. He then looked skeptically at his father, as if trying to figure out why Hermione had chosen him over the sultan.

"Not exactly," laughed Hermione, "but we're getting away from our main topic again. Tell us more about school. Are the older students helpful?"

"Most of them," said Hugo. "I don't really like our prefects, though, they're really bossy."

Hermione and Ron exchanged an amused look.

"Prefects are the worst," said Hermione with a huge grin.

"Total power trip," agreed Ron.

Hugo and Rose went upstairs after the meal was finished, under strict orders to get their belongings in order. Hugo followed Rose into her room and perched on the edge of her bed, his eyes following his sister as she flitted around the room.

"One of the older students was talking about last year," he said at last, "and she mentioned you."

"The dragons," said Rose, gathering her writing supplies. "I can't believe that was only last year."

"Sort of," said Hugo tentatively. "She— she told me about what happened with Herbert Chornell."

Rose paused, turning to the bed. Her brother gazed back at her, frowning but not looking away.

"Oh," she finally said.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice small.

"It was complicated," said Rose, leaning back against her desk. "He— it was scary, and I didn't want to tell mum and dad about everything— you know how they can overreact, and—"

"She said he attacked you in the woods," said Hugo, "and that he made the dragons behave all wrong and you almost got hurt. She said he— he broke your wand."

"Almost got hurt," said Rose firmly. "I was fine. It wasn't a big deal."

She knew as the words came out of her mouth that it was a lie. What had happened with Herbert was a big deal, but she hadn't wanted her parents knowing the details. She had been worried that Professor Evariste was going to tell them, but after the first week of summer holiday, she had realized that he seemed to be keeping her secret.

"You should have told me," said Hugo, still looking distressed. "I'm old enough to handle it."

"I'll tell you everything that happens from now on," she said softly, "I promise."

When she was Hugo's age, Rose thought as she went back to gathering her things, she had been dealing with Rafael's death. Perhaps Hugo was right. He could handle some of her less pleasant stories from the castle. It was mildly overwhelming, seeing her brother maturing into this new person before her eyes. She could feel how much had changed for him after only half a year at the castle.

"Mum took me to get a new wand before we shopped for your school supplies," admitted Rose, drawing it out of her drawer to show him. She always kept it in her bedside table while she was sleeping at home, and had taken particular care not to let Hugo catch sight of it over the summer, lest he notice the change. "She had written to the shop in advance so they knew I was coming in for a replacement."

"Was it like the first time? Did you get all measured and everything again?"

"I hadn't grown that much," said Rose, "but yes, we went through the entire process again."

She showed him her new wand, which was half an inch longer than her first. She had learned throughout the first half of the school year that it had a surprising amount of give to the wood when she cast with it. It was one thing to hear Mr. Ollivander say that it was slightly springy, and therefore would handle differently than its more rigid predecessor, but it was another thing entirely to feel the difference in her hand.

"Ash wood," she told Hugo. "Dad says that he used to have one just like it, but it used to be Uncle Charlie's, so it never quite worked right for him."

Hugo looked over the pale wood thoughtfully before wrinkling his nose.

"I don't think I'd want a different wand," he said.

"It took a bit of time to adjust," admitted Rose, "but it wasn't that bad. It helped knowing that Dad went through something similar and knowing that his new wand was a better fit for him than his first."

Hugo stayed with her until she was finished packing, and then she followed him to his room. He was more eager to discuss his new friends with her than he had been with their parents and went on at great length about his classes.

"Norman and I work together in Potions," he said, folding his shirts and then tossing them messily into his trunk. "He's really good at all of them. I think he's better at it than I am, but Slughorn hasn't seemed to notice. We get really good marks!"

"That's the good part about having a partner."

"Taylor keeps pairing with Marianna, but Mari seems pretty terrible at it. I think Taylor likes that, though, because Mari always knew she was a witch, see? And Taylor just found out this summer. So it's nice for her to be really good at things."

"She seems to have adjusted well," noted Rose.

Hugo nodded, then launched into the story of when Taylor found out she was a witch. She had been living in what she called a group home, which Rose thought sounded terrible. The woman who ran the home had to be stunned by Professor Evariste after apparently trying to get him to take some of the other girls as well.

"She wanted her best friend to come with her," explained Hugo. "She says she tried everything to get her to come to Hogwarts, but she couldn't make her a witch." After a momentary pause, he added, "I don't think I was supposed to mention Professor Evariste stunning the muggle lady. Don't tell anyone that part."

Rose couldn't imagine having to leave Hugo behind permanently. It was hard enough starting school two years before he could. Thankfully there was never a doubt that he had inherited their parents' magical gift; he used to make his eyebrows vanish, even as a baby, just to make Rose laugh.

"But now she has all of us," continued Hugo, "even Mari, who melted a hole through the side of their cauldron."