On the first day of Hogwarts’ term, Platform 9 3/4 is teeming with black-robed students and their fussing parents. Here a pair of wizard parents bends dotingly over their tiny first-year son, anxiously straightening his robes and checking to make sure his owl is fed. There, a confused-looking Muggle family stands slightly apart from the rest, watching the spectacle with bewildered eyes while their daughter rushes around in excitement to meet her new classmates. Beyond that, a group of older students, tall and assured after years of school, chat eagerly as they catch up on their summer holidays.

Among the odd groupings of adults and children, one is a trio: an old wizard departing from a pair of young girls, both wearing the shiny badges of new Hogwarts Prefects. The taller of the two girls bears a striking resemblance to him; the other, Dara Quincy, looks nothing like either of the others, but seems remarkably at home with both. Dara‘s expression is serious and intent, her vague, shadowed eyes narrowed in resolute focus as she glances around the platform, surveying the younger students with the determined authority of her new position.

Mariska Moore steps onto the platform and promptly dusts herself off, not yet wearing her Hogwarts robes, having deemed that it would look quite hilarious to be doing so when in the midst of the muggles. Following her onto the platform is an annoyingly perfect little blond haired girl, who quickly states how she absoloutly can not wait until she gets to go to Hogwarts. Finally, entering the platform behind the younger girl enter, presumably, the parents, who promptly start to fuss over the second year girl. “Mum, Da’, I’ll be fine, I promise, nothing happened to me last year, after all,” she states with a roll of her eyes before she quickly makes to depart from the precense of her somewhat overbearing parents.

Seraphina Pryor is a year older now, but she doesn’t look much more sure as she steps onto the platform with her obviously-doting father and younger sister, just a year too young to go to Hogwarts as yet. “Dad, why couldn’t you have waited out on the muggle platform?” she asks her father in a slightly testy fashion. “There are too many parents here already.” Despite her protests, Sera allows her father to press a bag of money into her palm and kiss her on the cheek. “I’m going to go get on the train now,” she announces to him with an unexpressive face. “Bye, Ona,” she tells her sister quickly before stepping closer to the train, glancing around only momentarily before she ducks onto the train with a very unsure face.

Chester Blake strolls onto the platform, studiously ignoring his brother – not his twin, if you please – as well as his younger sister, who is peppering the two of them with rapid fire questions about the sorting that she is still too young to attend. “Oh, shut up, Siscily,” he replies testily and turns to his parents. “No, mum, I’m fine… please don’t, oh – ugh, mum!” Chester seems appalled by the primping that his mother has just done to his disheveled hair as well as the wet kiss planted on his cheek. Such displays are unusual for Chester to experience, and he doesn’t seem to appreciate them when they do happen. “Rowan, you sit in a different car. Find your friends or something.” Whatever’s gotten into usually docile Chester this year? “I’m getting onto the train.” He drags his trunk behind him and stalks down the platform toward the door into one of the cars, ignoring his family as much as he did when they all came on to the platform.

Looking a bit flustered but no worse for the wear, Tobias Garner stumbles through the barrier, his owl, luggage, and (predictably) family in tow. Despite having gone through this painful farewell process seven times prior to today – though in those years his brother stood in his place — Tobias‘s mother and father are as tearful as ever. Jerry, on the other hand, seems unaffected by the flood of emotion, and simply tousles his brother’s hair and wishes him good luck. Promising that he will return for Christmas, Tobias edges closer to a group of older students, hoping to be noticed but at the same time remain inconspicuous. Heather hoots her displeasure and shifts uneasily in her cage at all the noise, but her protests are drowned out by the numerous conversations around her.

Even for a Prefect who seems to have to work as hard as Dara does to stay focused on her job, there is plenty to do. “Over here! This way! No, it’s all right, you can let your luggage go – it will arrive at school the same time that you do. Goodness, is that your owl flying off there? Yes, the train will wait until you’ve caught it…” Dara sorts through the disorderly crowd of first-years, directing them towards the various train compartments and giving what reassurance she can, all with the same air of steady resolve. “I’ll see you on the train, Evey!” she calls, smile brightening through her serious determination for a moment as she waves to a girl her own age across the crowd. And then she is back to work, ushering the other students onto the train. “Oh, hullo, Tobias,” Dara says, offering a smile to one of the few new students familiar to her. “Good to see you again.”

Walking up closer to the train and just narrowly avoiding a girl who is strangely walking backwards down the platform, Chester inclines his head briefly toward Dara. He doesn’t know her well, but he’s smart enough to see that the girl is wearing a Prefect badge and to act accordingly. “Congratulations,” he basically mutters before slipping through the door to the train, trunk hauled behind him. Chester spends little time glancing at those around him and manages to duck into the first empty compartment that he spots, quickly settling in next to the window – his favorite spot.

Mariska Moore takes her barn owls cage from atop her luggage, leaving the rest so that it can be loaded onto the train. “G’bye Mum, Da, I’ll see for break and of course I’ll be on my best behavior,” the girl notes, before her parents tell her to make sure she studies and to keep practicing the dance lessons she learned. “Of course, now will you let me go? I don’t want to miss the train,” she notes before kneeling down to give her younger sister a hug. That done she rights herself, dusts her clothes off and heads away from the familial unit and towards the train, though she moves at no sort of a rush.

“Thanks,” Dara replies, offering Chester a friendly, if slightly vague smile – she hasn’t had much of a chance to interact with the younger Hufflepuff boy, but from the quick brightening of her expression on his compliment, any friendly interaction is very welcome.

Following the barrage of students onto the train, Seraphina barely has enough room to move about, let alone choose her compartment for herself. She essentially ends up getting shoved into compartment One, in which there are already people. Seeing that there is room for her, though, she decides to stay rather than fight the crowd in the corridor. “Hi.” she greets those in the compartment before stowing her trunk and sitting in the opposite corner from Chester, sitting as close to the wall as possible.

Partly carried along by the momentum of the waves of students, partly concentrating on her duties, Dara bypasses the prefects’ compartment entirely. She only seems to realize that she has come to rest in another train car a few moments after she arrives, wide gray eyes blinking in brief confusion as she refocuses. Dara glances behind her – no, the tall Hufflepuff prefect with whom she had arrived seems to be gone, to her further confusion. Dara turns back to the compartment, offering another vague, friendly smile to the others as she moves to take a seat. She casts a slightly wistful glance towards the window, but there are too many people between her and it, and Dara settles for a seat near the middle of the car.

Chester Blake glances up as people begin to – seemingly haphazardly – enter the compartment. “Oh, hi, um…” He waves his hand absently in Seraphina’s direction. “Is the Prefects’ compartment full, Dara?” he asks the older girl curiously. “I thought that was where all of the Prefects sat.” Chester seems to have relaxed now that he is out of eye and earshot of his family, particularly his older brother.

Mariska Moore enters the train and squeaks, slightly, as the crowds gets the better of her slight form. In an attempt to get away from the onslaught of students she enters the first doorway she can, which leads to compartment one. “Oh… Hi,” the second year states, glancing quickly about. “Mind if I join?” she enquires in all politeness to the gathered crowd.

Relieved to see a familiar face, Tobias‘s fear dissipates temporarily as he scurries along behind his future classmates. Unsure at first of which compartment to enter, he decides it would be best to follow the older students – they, he assumes, unlike the first years, seem to know what they are doing. At the very least, he had an acquaintance among them. He meekly enters Compartment One and chooses a seat close to the door, so as to have an easy escape route (if necessary) and a clearer view of the corridor. Shooting a wary glance around the cabin, Tobias mutters a quiet and cautious “Hello.”

“Sera,” Seraphina answers without much inflection in her voice. Clutching a squirmy kitten to her chest, she glances around the quickly filling compartment without expression on her face. “Who are you?” she asks to nobody in particular, though she happens to be looking at Tobias as she says this. “Hello, Mariska,” she greets her housemate. At least she knows the girl’s name.

“Oh!” Dara‘s eyes flutter, shifting their vague gaze towards Chester in faint surprise as he calls attention to her mistake. “Er. Yes, usually they do,” she stammers, glancing backwards towards the door. “I – I just thought it would be better to keep an eye on things from here.” Dara offers another smile, slightly weaker this time, but it strengthens as she turns to greet the younger students, back on more secure ground now. “Hello. Yes, do have a seat. There’s…actually still a bit of room.”

“Oh, okay,” is all that Chester says in response to Dara’s reasoning. He seems nonplussed by the addition of a prefect to the compartment. “Hello then, Sera.” He leans back comfortably and glances at the other newcomers. “Hi,” he directs to Tobias – the first boy to actually enter the compartment so far aside from himself. “You look kinda young. Are you a firstie?”

Mariska Moore looks up from wherein she’s found herself a seat as she hears her name. “Oh, hello Seraphina,” the girl gives with a bit of a smile. “I didn’t see you through the crowd,” she notes before turning that same smile to the rest of the Compartment One Crowd.

Tobias opens his mouth to speak, but his words seem to be glued to his tongue for a moment before he blurts out, “I’m Tobias Garner. And yes, I am a-a firstie,” he finishes, wincing a bit at the title for his class. Firstie? How adorable — and slightly humiliating. Under the impression that Chester’s tone did not imply that he was teasing, however, Tobias manages to smile. “What about you all? What years are you in?”

“I am a second year,” Seraphina answers as if this is highly respectable and something to be envied. After all, it was preferable to being a firstie, wasn’t it? “It is a bit of a crowd, but of course, I was here before most of the people ducked in.” She pauses. “Though I would have preferred to secure a compartment farther back on the train, but I was obliged by some of the older students to come into this one.” Well, she was pushed in, but who was she to split hairs?

“Fifth, now,” Dara replies, offering another encouraging smile to nervous little Tobias. Seraphina’s superior tone draws a quick, sidelong glance from Dara, and she clears her throat faintly, but doesn’t otherwise interject. “It’s all right – things can be rather confusing at first,” she continues to Tobias, “but it all gets straightened out soon enough. You’ll see.”

Chester says, “Hi, Tobias, then,” Chester tells him with the first congenial smile of the day. He, too, is a bit taken aback by Seraphina’s tone, but doesn’t even spare her a glance. “I’m a fourth year,” he responds casually. “It gets better after the first year. Don’t worry about that.” A pause. “Just make sure you look out for the squid when you’re crossing the lake.” He manages to say this with a deadly serious face, much in the way it was told to him on his first trip to Hogwarts. It’s fair, right?”

Mariska Moore offers a smile towards Tobias. “Mariska Moore, second year,” she offers to the cute ickle firstie. Her statement is offered with a certain sense of pride offered, as she just barely passed all her first year classes. “I’m sure that you’ll figure everything out in no time,” Mariska gives, with a gap-toothed grin and a firm nod of her head. As for Seraphina’s tone, Mariska makes no big deal out of it, at all. “Oh, yes, the Giant Squid… it’ll eat you if yer not careful…”

It certainly is, Tobias agrees, absent-mindedly wondering why his brother was not kind enough to explain the outline of his first journey to Hogwarts. At the mentioning of the squid, he gives an expected shudder, recalling an incident where Jerry “accidentally” shoved him into a pond several summers ago and he was “attacked” by tangled weeds and irritable ducks. “Are there any accounts of firsties say, drowning, in the er-lake? Or being – well, eaten?” He straightens up and tries to appear unafraid as he says this, but terror is obviously present in his wide hazel eyes.

Sliding the door of the compartment open, the newcomer doesn’t step all the way inside. Seeing the number of students Ali blinks widely and then smiles nervously. “Sorry about that just looking for,” the dusky voice trails off as the fifth year grins in Dara’s direction. “Dara! There you are! Just the person I was looking for.” “You won’t believe what happened! I wanted to tell you but there just wasn’t time and besides, I wanted it to be a surprise.” Apparently for this youth gossip comes before introductions.

Not speaking at the mention of the squid, Seraphina merely looks on at the first year’s reaction. Of course she had not been afraid. “So, Mariska, are you planning to go out for Quidditch this year?” she asks her comrade calmly, only glancing up briefly as a very tall boy – wait, was that actually a girl? – entered the compartment.

“No, nothing like that,” Dara begins, aiming another reassuring smile towards Tobias, and a slightly reproachful look towards the others. But then Ali bursts in, and Dara‘s eyes flutter as her attention, so carefully fixed on the younger students, is disrupted once more. “What?” She turns swiftly towards the door, her gaze wide and vague for a moment, and then slipping back into focus as a brighter smile comes to her face. “Ali! Yes – what is it? Is everything all right? Er – you’re welcome to find a seat if you can, but it’s gotten a bit crowded…”

Ignoring Dara’s disclaiming about the squid, Chester leans forward, grinning a little bit. “Oh, loads of people have… it’s all in the books at Hogwarts. Of course, I shouldn’t tell you this, but just last year, a firstie got careless and the squid ate her. It was a terrible tragedy – the whole school was shocked that she could have been so dumb.” It seems as if he has to stifle a snicker as he tells Tobias the tale. “Of course, if you keep yourself inside the boat and stay away from sitting next to people who don’t like you, you should be alright. The squid doesn’t usually grab people out of the boats. It waits for them to fall in.” Chester leans back, glancing around the now quite crowded compartment. “Oh, hi, Ali,” he greets the girl.

Mariska Moore snickers slightly. “Well, I heard of one when my parents where here. A first year lost his footing, fell into the lake… nobody’s seen him since, my parents say the squid got ‘im,” she notes with a completly serious look on her face before turning her attention to Seraphina. “We were in the same flying class, right?” she questions with a quirked brow. “If so, you’ve seen me try to fly, and fail miserably, I only barely passed that class…” Upon hearing Chester’s comment Mariska blinks. “Right, I remember that, it was terrible, she was on the boat behind me,” the second year shrugs at this.

Watching as students step off the train Phoebe Helit stands ready out on the platform dressed in a warm black fur coat over a navy blue formal dress. Beside her at her feet staring with great yellow eyes is her ever faithful cat with fur matching it’s human’s dress. After all the students are off the train Phoebe takes another quick check over the crowd and places her hands together in front of her, she calls out to address the students. “Hello everyone! Welcome to Hogwarts! First years please stay together and come with me, returning students are to board the carriages,” “Your luggage and pets will be taken to your dormitorys to wait for you.” With that Phoebe takes another quick look over the students as the crowd begins separating. She gives a glance to the blue cat beside her who mews once as if understanding and immediatly sets off into one of the carriages with a couple of seventh years. A smile stretches over her face and she calls again “Right this way first years!” With that the Professor begins leading the way.

Heading off of the train quickly, Seraphina glances around the crowd, trying to latch onto someone familiar with whom to ride in the carriages. Finding nobody close enough to go with her, she instead steps into the closest one that she can find, ending up with three seventh years, all of whom seem quite familiar and friendly with one another.

(Slytherin) Seraphina Pryor walks quickly into the Great Hall with a clump of other students. She spots Mariska, with whom she had shared a compartment on the trip to Hogsmeade, and rather than securing an ideal spot, she instead secures a spot next to somebody she knows. Perhaps this feast will be more than just eating. The girl can hope, after all. She plops down at the table quickly.

(Slytherin) Mariska Moore enters the great hall from the opposite point of view as the last sorting, and promptly settles herself at the Slytherin table. Once Seraphina’s seated herself Mariska turns to her fellow second year and offers a smile. “I wonder who we’ll be Sorted into Slytherin this year,” is noted quietly, though not so quiet as to not be heard.

(Slytherin) “I don’t know,” Seraphina admits readily. “Hopefully some good people. The not as good people can be sorted into Gryffindor or something. We don’t need them here.” A flip of her light auburn hair punctuates this as she shrugs lightly. “Maybe we’ll take the house cup this year. Stupid Ravenclaw got it last time.” She seems oblivious to the irony of her statement.

(Slytherin) Mariska Moore nods. “I sure hope that we get some of the good students this year, though, obviously, we got some of the good ones last year, too,” is noted with a bit of a chuckle. “And hopefully some who can get us some points and play quidditch, because I know I can’t play.”

(Slytherin) “Slytherin only ever gets the best, of course,” Satinka replies to the two younger girls, butting quite suddenly into their conversation. “We would win the cups every year, only want the other houses to think that they have a chance now and then. Otherwise, where would the fun be in winning?” Satinka pushes her blonde curls over her shoulder and sits up neatly, grinning down at the young girls. “They only win because we let them.”

(Slytherin) “They do?” Seraphina replies with shock. “But I thought we did try last year…” Sera looks quite perplexed for a moment as she considers this. Her face then goes blank – after all, she mustn’t show any weaknesses like that to her peers. “I’m not going to play Quidditch. It simply doesn’t interest me,” the girl states plainly. She neglects to remember, apparently, her dismal showing during the flying classes in the previous year. “I plan to be a famous stage actress, after all, and sports would not help me with that.”

(Slytherin) Mariska Moore chuckles slightly. “Well, we have to make it at least look like we’re trying to win, even if we are letting the other houses win, don’t we?” she questions, grinning a little. “So how was everyone’s summer? Good, I hope.”

(Slytherin) “Mine was fine,” Seraphina answers mildly, without much conviction. “We went to the shore for a week. Did you do anything interesting like that, Mariska?” Sera does not address the older girl, though, as she is unsure of how to approach the daughter of the house head. “Daddy promised we’d go again at Easter holiday, too.”

(Slytherin) Mariska Moore shakes her head slightly in response to Seraphina. “My parents got me a tutor, they weren’t pleased with my marks through the year,” she notes, frowning. “And enrolled me in a dance class, apparently they also weren’t happy that I wouldn’t be trying out for the quidditch team this year.”

(Slytherin) “Oh, you had to study all summer? How rotten of them! Dancing is interesting, though. I’ve been asking my daddy to enroll me in some of the dance classes so that I could make a bigger splash onstage. I’m going to take Wizo-Music, too. Professor Dwight has to teach me to sing if that’s what I want, right?” She pauses and yawns a bit. “I’m hungry. When is this supposed to start? Did they lose the firsties for real or something?” Seraphina looks a bit annoyed at the long wait and she leans her elbows on the table, cradling her cheeks in her hands.

(Slytherin) Mariska Moore nods in a slightly sullen fashion. “Mmhmm, all summer, the only break I got was for dance class, but I like my dance classes, they enrolled me in Irish step dance it’s very interesting, I’m supposed to work on that when I get free time, cause I’ll be back in class next summer,” she notes, grinning with this. At Seraphina’s comment about the firsties, Mariska snickers. “I wonder if the squid got them this year… got tired of us goin’ around in it’s lake so much…”

(Slytherin) “Irish step?” Satinka butts in with a sneer on her pretty face. “They might have enrolled you in a more beautiful dance course. Ballet, now, that’s a worthwhile course. I’ve had my own private teacher since I was five years old and living in France. Thankfully, my mother understands the importance of grace and polish, and understood my arguments for having her here. It’s a real shame that your parents haven’t the same considerations for you.

(Slytherin) Mariska Moore shrugs slightly at Satinka slightly. “I like Irish step, it’s beautiful and has some similarities to ballet, and it’s incredibly graceful, especially the soft shoe dances, though I love the hard shoe dances. I’m not very good right now, but I’ve gotten to watch some of the better students, and it’s all in the footwork and the combination of the hard shoe with the music,” she shrugs and stops going on about how much she loves this particular art. “I suppose if my parents really get irritated with me they’ll put me into ballet, or another form of dance.”

(Slytherin) “Well, I’d much rather take tap and ballet – it is so much more useful for the stage, after all. Tap is in such high demand now, after all. Irish step could be very appropriate in certain venues, I’m sure,” Seraphina replies, unsure of what to make of Satinka’s interference in the converstaion. “Maybe the squid just got hungry. After all, it didn’t get anyone last year…” Sera says this perhaps a bit less sarcastically than she ought – she sounds dead serious at the suggestion, in fact.

(Slytherin) Satinka gives a rather haughty shrug. “Suit yourself, of course, but it will never breed in you the grace and poise that a well-to-do representative of Slytherin house is expected to have upon graduation.” Satinka sits up just a bit straighter and slowly crosses her legs under the table in an effort to look glamorous. “I’ve been brought up for it since birth. After all, my family is famous for being respected and showered with accolades.” Perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but Satinka is figuring on the two girls not knowing any better.

(Slytherin) Mariska Moore shrugs slightly. “Well, it’s something I enjoy,” she offers with a smile before tilting her head slightly in the direction from which the firsties ought be coming. “Perhaps. I mean, I don’t recall it taking anyone last year, though it may only take students every few years,” Mariska gives, sound completley serious as she speaks, as though she actually believes the squid will eat the students. “Yes, Satinka, I’ve heard of your family, specifically the Professor, of course… and I’m sure you’ll do Slytherin proud when you graduate from Hogwarts.”

(Slytherin) “That’s what matters, right? That you enjoy it?” Seraphina is starting, for the first time since she came to Hogwarts, to let down her guard a little. After all, she said so very little to the others in her house over the course of her first year, it’s amazing that any of them even know her name. She leans forward close to Mariska, looking carefully out of the corner of her eye to see that Satinka is distracted. “Are they really so prestigious as all that? My daddy’s never spoken of them to me… indeed, I didn’t hear of them until I came to the school.” She pauses. “She isn’t very nice anyhow. So superior…”

Gerald Rathe stalks into the room, his great fae-silk cloak billowing behind him and almost into the faces of the nearest students. He does not shorten his pace for the shorter-legged children, but keeps his eyes focused on the faculty table ahead, until he reaches it, only then spinning about and clasping his hands behind his back to wait for the students to catch up, watching carefully to prod them into order in front of the Hall.

(Slytherin) Mariska Moore nods. “Oh yes, I think it’s entirely a case of enjoying something, and, as I spent the rest of the summer studying, it was a nice reprieve from the books,” she notes before offering a shrug in Seraphina’s direction before lowering her voice to speak to her fellow second year. “I only know the professor, my parents haven’t told me much of anything about them… but that’s not saying much,” she offers with her gap-toothed grin. “Oh! Look, there’s one of the Professor Rathe’s. Good, I’ve been getting quite anxious to get on with the Sorting.”

Once the students are lined up in front of the Hall in some semblance of order, Professor Gerald Rathe ducks out the back door by the faculty table, returning moments later with a stool in one hand, and an old tattered, wide-brimmed hat in the other. The stool he places in front of the gathered students, and the hat is set deftly on top of the stool. Turning to face the first years, he pulls a scroll from his cloak, and addresses them: “First year students, when I call your name, you will step up to the stool, take the Hat, sit on the stool and place the Hat on your head to be sorted.”

At the Professor’s voice, the Hat shivers, splits at the seam, and a mouth forms and begins to sing!

Unfurling his scroll, Gerald reveals that his right hand is swathed in a thick bandage. He glances at the students, and then to scroll, calling out the first name, “Adenlthwaite, Cloisonne!” The girl mentioned moves carefully up to the stool, taking the hat as told and sitting. There is a moment’s silence, and then the Hat calls out, “Gryffindor!” The girl jumps up from the stool, moving quickly to the mentioned table.

Several more names are called in turn, and soon Gerald calls one out, “Garner, Tobias!”

moves on through the list, calling out names in turn, as the students are sorted into their various Houses. Among them, Luella Grey is sorted into Ravenclaw, and Rory Tam is sorted into Gryffindor. When the last student has been sorted, Gerald quickly and neatly packs up the Hat and stool, carring them out from the room without a backward glance. A moment later, he has returned to the Great Hall, and without fanfare takes his place at the faculty table.

Melvina Prichard rises from the faculty table purposefully, lifting her nimble, long-fingered hands in a suggestive way as she beckons the student audience for silence. “Thank you, Gerald. Excuse me, quiet please — yes, that includes you, Miss Smythe.” Her voice is thick and strong but laced with a hint of amusement. A half-grin touches her lips as Melvina looks over her school.

“Greetings, everyone,” Melvina calls, her voice effortlessly stretching across the Great Hall at a comfortable volume. “Welcome to your term nineteen hundred and thirty two! As I’m sure most you of you are now aware, my name is Melvina Prichard and I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though I hope each of you had a wonderful summer, I equally hope you’re prepared to clear away whatever fluff might have grown between your ears and properly further your magical education. That in mind, I’ll press on so we may all fill our bellies and get to a good nights rest. I’ve some beginning of term announcements to make.” Clearing her throat, the Headmistress pulls a pair of spectacles from the breast pocket of her emerald robe and places them neatly on the brige of her nose. With a cassual motion, the Headmistress draws a long, thin wand from her sleeve and gives it a vague flick, conjuring a tightly-bound scroll in to the air in front of her with a small violet flash.

“All the usual suspects, of course. Our caretaker has asked me to remind you check the updated list of prohibited items and punishable offenses that have been thoughtfully posted in each of your common rooms–” Drawing in a deep breath, the Headmistress takes the floating parchment from the air and begins to unroll it. “Spellwork outside of the classroom, rough play, pranks, hijinxs, dungbombs, Whipple’s Pimple Powder..” Demonstratively, she allows one end of the scroll to slip from her fingers; it clatters to the table, spills over the edge, and rolls across the floor Great Hall between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables until it exhausts itself somewhere near the door of the waiting room across the entrance foyer. Wearing an expression of mock seriousness, Melvina sets her end of the very long list down and vanishes it with a flick of her wand. “As you can see, the list goes on. Be sure to check it.”

After a moment Melvina conjures a smaller sheet of parchment. “Hogwarts tradition demands that I remind each that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds for all students. As seems to happen every year since antiquity, some of you will most certainly forget that pesky little rule. It just slips out, squeezed away most certainly by the building pressure of knowledge our fine professors work so hard to fill your heads with over the term.” The elderly woman chuckles as she shares a knowing look with a few select members of the student body. “Know then that detention is the minimum punishment for entering the Forbidden Forest without a member of staff or faculty to escort you, and that such acts will usually will result in a substantial loss of house points as well.”

With a small, meaningful glance around and a pause to clear her throat and savor a sip of pumpkin juice, Melvina continues. “Naturally, we ask that you respect and defer to your Prefects. At this time, I’d like to congratulate our new prefects; for Ravenclaw house, Miss Dara Quincy and Mister Edward Innarsal, for Slytherin house, Miss Odaira Wallace and Mister Augustine Malloy, for Gryffindor house Miss Allison Ardua and Mister Luke Marcus, and for Hufflepuff house, Miss Constance Geroff and Mist… Miss Ali Chamberlain. Remember, prefects are selected by their respective Heads of House,” Melvina places a curiously strong emphisis on those last three words. “For exceptional dedication, scholastic merit, and integrity, as well as exemplifying the values their respective houses treasure. Respect and defer to them, as they chose not to bear the weight of responsibility handed to them, but will most assuredly carry out their new-found duties with aplomb.” The Headmistress pauses, looking over the hall for a moment as if to convey a silent message to the crowd before continuing on. “Leading our prefects will be our new Head Boy and Head Girl, Marten Augustine and Helen McPhereson. Mister Augustine and Miss McPhereson, please stand.” She applauds once the two have risen, leading those who care to join her in a round of congratulations.

“Well done, Head Boy, Head Girl,” the Headmistress says, sincerly. “On to faculty. Sadly, I must inform you that Professor Hathaway of our Transfiguration department has choosen to resign, and will be replaced this term by Professor Edward Marconia. I hope you will all join me in welcoming Professor Marconia in to the Hogwarts family.” Again, Melvina applauds, turning toward the new instructor and inclining her head toward him in a respectful manner.

Following a relieved sigh and Melvina finally sets down the parchment and removes her glasses, tucking them back in to her breast pocket. “That said, I have only one more announcement to mention before we start in on the delicious feast I know you’re all patiently waiting to savor. To those of you returning, my love of tradition should be no surprise; thus, I announce once again to you my personal favorite of our many Hogwarts traditions, the annual Barefoot Social. A celebration of the new term, greeting those whom are just joining us, and welcoming home the rest. This dance will semi-formal, open to all years, and include an… outdoor feast.” The too-clever look on her face almost seems to gloat, briefly, as she looks out at her young crowd. Following the precident set by events of year’s past — the ladies will need ask the gentlemen for the honor of an afternoon’s courtship. Naturally, I will be resuming the Student Events Committee, made up of students from all years to help me prepare for the Barefoot Social, Governor’s Ball, and a handful of other special events the faculty has planned for the school year; if you’d like to be on said committee, you may contact me through any of the usual means. Exact details regarding date and time of the Barefoot Social shall follow shortly. Tuck in.” And with small nod and a sly, lingering grin, she slips casually back in to her seat.

A small, well-mannered knock sounds on the door of the Divination office – even though Dara Quincy has an appointment, all proprieties must be observed. Her posture is carefully straight, her hair – often flying off in disorder these days – is neatly tied back, and a tiny frown of anxious effort pulls her mouth into a line. “Professor?” Dara‘s voice is as carefully modulated as her manner, lifting at the end with only the faintest bit of hope amid its apprehension. “You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

Though she has been expecting this visit and the girl is precisely on time, Bonnie Kensington seems almost unprepared for this. Her feet are propped up on the desk in front of her as she holds a muggle adventure novel a bit closer than she possibly should have to hold it. The knock startles her and she sits up sharply, her feet coming to a loud THUNK on the floor as she slaps her book closed. “Come in, Dara,” Bonnie calls, coming to her senses quite suddenly as she clears off her desk, trying to find a place to stash the mostly empty plate of sweets from which she has been nibbling all afternoon and the completely empty mug which once contained tea. “Have a seat,” she states calmly as she finishes setting her desk to rights.

The heavy thump of feet and book sends Dara jumping back, eyes flying wide and startled. “Er. Thank you, Professor,” she replies, a bit unsteadily, but still as polite as ever. Bonnie’s choice of book draws a faint flicker of curiosity from Dara, but it only lasts a moment before it disappears into her nervously tight control. Dara slips into the offered chair, hands fluttering anxiously about to straighten her robes as she settles in. Her eyes don’t quite meet the professor’s, and her hands, when they come to rest at last, fold into a tight little knot.

“So, Dara,” Bonnie starts, glancing only momentarily at the student while she rummages through her drawer for a shiny tin. Finally managing to locate it, she opens it and sets it before Dara. “You started out with so much promise, especially as you do quite legitimately seem to have true sight. Your marks, however, have been disappointing at best. I’ve heard some stories, and I must say, I’m rather worried about you. Would you care to tell me exactly what is going on? I hate to see someone with sight do so poorly in my class, and since you’ll be taking your OWL exams next year, I’m concerned for your progess.” Bonnie looks unwaveringly at Dara, never taking her eyes off of the girl once the tin is placed on the table.

Dara lets out a slow, unhappy sigh that droops her shoulders and lets the frown settle more fully onto her face – her fears have been confirmed. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Dara says in a small voice, her fingers twining through each other in her lap. “I – I’ve been trying. Truly, I have!” A bit of earnest force lifts Dara‘s voice then, and she looks up to meet Bonnie’s eyes for the first time. But the fire departs as swiftly as it arose, leaving only uncomfortable anxiety behind as she struggles to explain. “It’s only that…I mean, that is…I do see things, Professor, just not…with tea leaves and that sort of thing.” The presence of the tin, Dara entirely overlooks for the moment, so intent is she on making her unhappy explanation.

“I understand that you do see things, but I’m concerned about the frequency with which I have heard they occur. Have you learned nothing about control?” Bonnie asks gently. “It is truly a gift to be able to see things so vividly, especially so young, but it can’t take over your life.” She pauses. “Knowing too much about what is to be can be dangerous regardless of who knows it, but at your age, I think you should focus more on the present, namely your studies.” Bonnie laces her fingers together in front of her as she leans forward. “I desperately want to see you do well in this class in particular, but I’m afraid that your homework is unimaginitive at best, and often appears to have been copied from the book, that which doesn’t appear to be complete fabrication. It worries me. I know you can do better than that – you have in the past.”

As she listens to the professor’s speech. Dara slowly droops further down, her head bowing as her cheeks begin to pinken with an embarrassed flush. “I’ve tried,” she says again, more quietly than before. “I – I just can’t see things that way. I’ve tried looking at the tea leaves and cards, and – and I was all right with the star charts when we did those last year, because sometimes I would actually see something, but…” Once again, a bit of hope lifts Dara‘s voice, and an oddly happy light comes into her eyes when she mentions ‘actually seeing something.’ “And my control is getting better!” she adds, following her optimism into another topic. “I don’t lose visions anymore when I’m having them, and I can see much more detail than before!”

Bonnie sighs and shakes her head. “It helps to practice these things, though, because it is hard to say how these visions will present themselves. Whether you like it, a proficiency in these methods is essential to passing your OWL exams, which allows you to go on to the NEWT level classes. Without good OWL and NEWT scores, you’ll never be able to make a career of this, which I would hope you’ll want to do.” Pausing, Bonnie looks at her carefully for a moment. “How often are you having visions, Dara, voluntary or otherwise?”

Dara swallows hard, nodding quickly at the mention of careers. “Yes!” she cries, apprehension rising again, but with a hint of determination in her voice as well. But then she sits back, letting out another soft sigh at Bonnie’s next question. “Well…er…once a week, at least? I – I can’t always tell until it’s over,” Dara admits, her mouth twisting in an almost embarrassed grimace. “When I see that I’ve written down something odd, or something of that sort. But I’m getting much better at remembering things afterwards!” she adds, with a hopeful little smile.

“Well, hmm.” Bonnie starts, then merely looks at Dara for several long minutes, deep in thought. “We’re going to have to do something to ensure that your marks are satisfactory. I don’t feel that you are putting enough effort into your work, and that concerns me. You have a talent, but you also have an obligation to pass this class, and while we can meet and have a discussion should you get anything lower than an O on your Divination OWL, I am thinking forward to your career. Higher marks will recommend you more highly.” A pause. “I hate to say it, Dara, but I do expect more from you because you have the reputation and history of Rowena Ravenclaw behind you. You must work to prove that you have what it takes so future employers will see that.”

Throughout the long moments of scrutiny, Dara waits, her small hopeful smile gradually fading away as the professor’s silence stretches on, and settling into unhappy resignation at the end. The mention of her House and its founder don’t seem to take Dara by surprise – she gives a small nod, accepting the statement as if she had heard it many times before. “I want to get better marks,” she says finally, quietly. “And I am trying. I – I know there are places at the Ministry for people who work with prophecies,” Dara confesses, hope lifting her expression once more. “And I know you need good marks to work for the Ministry. I’ll try harder?” she ventures, pushing her smile up a little higher.

“I could assign a tutor from one of the older years. Would that help, Dara?” Bonnie suggests quietly. “I want to give you every opportunity for success but know that I cannot give you any unfair advantages from the other students. Indeed, your house means that many will look with even higher scrutiny at your marks and schooling history.” Pausing briefly this time, Bonnie allows a small smile. “Promise me this one thing, Dara: Try to limit the frequency of your visions, if you can. It is not healthy to fall into them so often, and is very possibly what makes your Divination essays seem so distracted. I worry for you sometimes, Dara.”

“Yes, please?” Dara‘s voice is as quiet as the professor’s, and the request comes reluctantly, but she follows it by admitting, “I’ve had tutors in other classes, and it’s helped.” Dara listens attentively to the next piece of advice too, her mouth puckering in unhappy worry, but still she says, “I’ll try? I know I need to focus more, but…I don’t want to risk missing seeing something important. But I’ll try not to see things so often,” she finishes resignedly.

“I’ll arrange for someone to meet you this afternoon, then,” Bonnie states plainly and sits forward again. “Now, if you’ve no questions, I think that’s all for today. I just wanted to make sure that everything was alright. You have had me worried.” She smiles pleasantly at Dara. “I’ll make sure your tutor is in Ravenclaw to make meeting easier. I really hope you can manage to improve your scores before the end of term. Don’t forget what I said about those visions, alright?”

“Thank you,” Dara replies. The smile she offers in response is a little weak, but present all the same. “Just – er – I know that my sister is in Divination as well, and in Ravenclaw, but…it might be better to have someone else as a tutor?” Her expression wavers, and the smile disappears entirely. ” And…I do have a question, if that’s all right?” she ventures, glancing down at the little tin that has been resting on the desk in front of her. “What’s in there, please?”

“I’ll make sure Genevieve isn’t your tutor,” Bonnie agrees with a conspiratory grin. “Oh, it’s cookies!” she answers the question enthusiastically. “You’re quite welcome to as many as you like. That’s what they’re for, of course.” The woman smiles kindly to the student. “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine with a bit of help, Dara. I’ll see you tomorrow in class, hmm?”

“Oh!” Surprise and relief burst out of Dara in a sudden laugh, and she reaches out to open the tin with quick, eager fingers. “Thank you, Professor,” Dara continues, the laughter lingering to ease the tension in her voice. “I’ll try harder, I promise. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Cookie in hand, she slips down off of the chair and heads off into the castle.

Chilly wind rushes in through the door of Cordial Confections as it opens, setting the bell jingling and rustling the wrappers of a few sweets close to the door. The stiff breeze also ruffles the well-groomed curls of Dara Quincy, nearly blown into the shop by the strong gusts. As soon as the door closes behind her, the little girl pauses, giving her fur-edged coat a dainty tug to straighten it, and pats her hair back into place with a small gloved hand. No adult follows her into the shop – as far as can be seen, Dara is alone, and the little girl draws herself up a little straighter as she arranges herself, her expression serious with the consciousness of the great responsibility of her position. But Dara‘s small nose flickers a little wider for a moment, drawing in the enticing scent of sugar and chocolate, and an extremely un-serious light of excitement comes into her eyes as she looks eagerly around. She is, after all, still a child, on her own in a candy shop.

Looking almost harried, Eva makes her way out of the back as the door jingles the arrival of a patron. “Hello, honey, welcome to Cordial Confections!” she spouts cheerfully, though she is sprinkled with flour, and looking a bit unkempt. Her hair, however, is out of her face for once, secured neatly back, in contrast to the rest of her. She puts a tray of cookies into her display case and closes it gingerly before attempting to dust herself off and coming out from behind the counter. It is a quiet afternoon so far, so it seems that Dara will get some personal service. “Is there anything you’re looking for in particular?” Eva grins as she says this, still attempting to dust the flour off of her skirt.

“Oh, good day!” Dara gives Eva a nod, carefully polite and oddly formal, a gesture probably copied from some adult or other. The eager light is still in her eyes, though, and her small shoes click quickly against the floor as she hurries towards the shopkeeper, almost – but not quite – skipping. “I was just looking around, but – oh, do you have any more of the sugar-flowers that you had last week? The pink and yellow ones?” Dara lifts a hand to point, but hastily pulls back from the impolite gesture, tucking her gloved hand into her pocket instead to restrain it. “They were in the front case, over there,” she continues, looking over towards a display case that is preparing for spring: a garden, with mint bluebirds fluttering over spun-sugar grass and chocolate earth – but no flowers. “And they were so lovely! Do you have any more of them?”

“No, unfortunately we haven’t got any of the sugar flowers, though we do have an array of minicakes that have some chocolate flowers on the top. I think Maura is also working on some new sweets for spring, but they won’t be ready today, I’m afraid. Would you like to try a bit of one of the minicakes? I promise they’re excellent.” Eva winks as she says this and crosses her arms for a moment, then uncrossing them, as if she has decided all in this instant not to wait for an answer. She makes her way behind the counter again and extracts the tray that she had previously placed in, putting it down on the counter in front of her. She does not, however, begin to cut one up into small bits yet. “What flavor do you fancy?”

Disappointment crumples Dara‘s face for a moment at the news that the sugar flowers are all gone, but it cannot remain for long – not when the tray of cakes is so close, and Eva’s invitation is so welcoming. “Oh, may I?” Dara cries. The little girl is already pulling off her neat white gloves as she scampers closer, peering with an eager, open-mouthed smile at the huge tray. “Mmmm. . .” she sighs, breathing in the fragrance of the freshly-baked cakes. Dara rises up on tiptoes, balancing with her hands on the edge of the counter – placed very carefully away from the edge of the tray so that she is in no danger of tipping the cakes over. “Is there strawberry? Or peach?”

“I can do one better. How about strawberry peach,” the woman suggests with a grin. She plucks one of the cakes off the tray carefully and cuts a tiny wedge out of it. Reaching down to retrieve a small bit of paper, Eva picks up the bit of cake and hands it to Dara. “It seems to me that you must have been meant to come in here today for this.” Eva winks again and looks around the shop. One adult has come in and is quietly perusing the bins of sweets, so Eva does not leave her smaller patron and instead waits for a moment. “Were the sugar flowers all you came in for?”

“Both?” Dara‘s eyes and smile both widen as she looks down at the cake, and reaches out to take it daintily between two fingers. “Oh, thank you, it’s lovely!” the little girl exclaims. Dara gives the cake one more eager look, but holds politely back, answering Eva’s question instead. “No, ma’am,” Dara replies, giving her head a small shake. “I was just looking, really. Mummy said that I might get some of the sugar flowers because I liked them, but – well – ” She hesitates, then, and leans in, eyes round and serious as she looks up at Eva. “Mummy’s at the jewelry shop, and I think she’s getting me a present,” Dara confides, lowering her voice. “I don’t think she would have asked me to leave while she was shopping, otherwise.”

Apparating right outside of the sweet shop door, the crack and sudden appearance causes a bit of dismay from one of the pedestrians. A muttered curse greets the woman and in turn smiles widely, not at all dismayed. Not returning the gesture with one of her own, she opts instead for stepping into the shop. Astra tugs open the door easily and the sound of chimes reveals her presence. Looking around, she pushes back her hood and begins to remove her gloves as she casually inspects the shop.

“I’m sure your mum will get you something lovely at the shop,” Eva tells the girl with a grin. “I’m glad you like the cake. Will you have one then?” The woman looks up as the door jingles again. “Hullo,” Eva greets the woman. Her face is familiar, though Eva could not place a name to it at this time.

“I hope so,” Dara agrees, with an eager nod that sets her curls bouncing again. Her smile widens even more at Eva’s offer, and she replies, “Oh, yes, thank you!” Holding the cake delicately in her fingers, Dara starts to reach towards the fur-edged pocket of her coat with her other hand, asking politely, “How much, please?” But just then, a loud crash echoes out from the back room of the shop, causing Dara to jump and Eva to say a hasty, “Oh, no, excuse me!” And then the shopkeeper is off, and Dara is left alone at the counter, with a delicate pink cake held in one hand, and her lips pursed quizzically at the place where the shopkeeper used to be.

There is a considered pause and just as she is about to return the greeting, the crash interrupts her thought. Left alone with the child, Astra arches her eyebrows in a concerned sort of fashion and idly begins to walk toward the counter in order to see if she can get any closer to ‘behind the scenes’. Even so, she doesn’t infringe on the owner’s privacy, but instead settles for a small little sigh. “The one day I think I can actually pull myself away for a little while,” muttering to herself, she casts a quirky grin at the girl. “Well it looks like it’s your lucky day at any rate.”

“Pardon?” Dara blinks up at the newcomer, the look of confusion only deepening on her small features as she puzzles out the cryptic comment. And then comprehension dawns for Dara, with a widening of gray eyes and a startled little cry of “Oh! Pardon, ma’am,” she says again. “You meant being left alone with…everything?” A tiny grin comes over Dara‘s face, eager, and with a bit of surreptitious mischief in it, as she looks down at the cake in her hand, and the neat rows of others like it spread out on the tray in front of her. “But – oh, but I should pay for this one before I take any of the others,” she says conscientiously, and more to herself than to the unfamiliar woman. There is no reticence in Dara‘s manner, though – she seems as much at ease speaking to Astra as she did to Eva, without a hint of awkwardness at dealing with an adult.

Tilting her head as she contemplates the child’s words and actions, there again is that silent nature reasserting itself. Finally, she nods and speaks, breaking any awkward tension that might be forming. “You’re quite right of course, you ought to. Not many children would have that kind of willpower. Not many adults for that matter could exhibit the same.” No smile traces her lips and while she speaks firmly there is a note of gentleness to them. “I’m not sure how much they cost, otherwise I’d tell you just to leave a note with some money and throw it behind the counter.” “So,” making idle conversation as she waits for the shopkeep to return, Astra isn’t entirely sure what to say but she doesn’t speak down to the child, “what happens to be your favorite?”

“I don’t know either,” Dara replies, with a serious, regretful sigh at the tantalizing spread of cakes. “She never got the chance to say.” Dara‘s mouth puckers again, frowning worriedly down at the cake that she still holds in her hand – not daring to put it down, but not daring to eat it either, she hovers uncertainly for a moment before turning back up to Astra. “Oh – thank you, ma’am,” Dara says, then, offering Astra a bright, sweet smile as she realizes the compliment a moment too late. “I liked the sugar-flowers – they were in the front case there, with the garden things.” Dara nods towards the front of the store, where there is a display in anticipation of spring – fluttering mint bluebirds, spun-sugar grass, and other spring-themed sweets. “But that’s something new, and they’re all out, anyway. My favorite regular sweet is the Fizzing Whizbee. I like the strawberry ones.” Dara speaks with the earnest intensity of someone discussing a very important topic – but there is still an eager little smile on her face, lit by her enjoyment of the discussion.

“Sugar flowers? They sound like just the thing my daughter might like, or might have liked not so very long ago.” “I imagine they are very good.” Treating the subject with the same sense of intensity even if her own gestures do not follow, Astra trails her fingers just above one of the glass cases. “I was coming by to pick up some things for my own children.” “Tell you what, go ahead and eat that. I’m sure she won’t mind. If you have to leave before she gets back, I’ll gladly pay whatever the cost is. We can’t have you worrying over something so minor as a cake.”

“Thank you very much,” Dara replies, bobbing her head in a polite nod. “But Mummy’s given me plenty of money.” The topic of money causes Dara no more or less worry than does the topic of candy – her tone is perfectly casual and comfortable. “And I think I’ll be here for quite a while. Until Mummy comes to get me, at least.” Despite her self-composure, though, Dara looks down at the cake in her hand with eagerly tempted eyes, and adds, “But if you’re sure that the shopkeeper won’t mind…” A little sparkle rises into her eyes and she takes a bite, her smile curving around the mouthful as she chews it daintily. Carefully swallowing before she speaks again, Dara offers, “The sugar flowers are lovely, and the shopkeeper said that they should have some more next week, if you’d like some for your daughter.”

“Thank you, I will have to put in an order when she returns.” Craning her neck to try to look around behind the scenes, Astra sighs, “If she returns before I have to run off again.” A smile actually tugs on her lips at the child’s first bite at the cake. “What kind is it?” Glancing around to watch the store, but more to keep an eye on the door it is an old habit that hasn’t yet died. “One moment,” Looking down at the child and blinking several times, there is a light frown. “Let me get this right, your mother left you in a store by yourself while she went about her own business?” “I hope she doesn’t do that often. Storekeepers are not here to tend to other’s children and if something should happen,” “Well, you just be careful. There’s a lot of people in the world who aren’t very nice.”

“Strawberry and peach!” Dara declares happily, and lifts the cake to take another bite – but freezes halfway, as Astra’s disapproval begins to make itself known. She listens throughout the grown-up’s speech, eyes widening into a confused blink. “I – I’m sorry,” Dara says, finally – still without much comprehension, but clearly understanding that something is wrong. “Mummy told me to come here while she was in the jewelry shop,” she continues slowly, struggling to explain what clearly seems to make sense to her. “I think she’s getting me a present. I can’t think of why else she wouldn’t want me there.” For the briefest moment, a shadow passes over Dara‘s clear, open expression – but then it is gone, and she continues, “And I will be careful, ma’am,” with an earnest nod. “I wasn’t going to go anywhere except here.”

Chuckling to herself, Astra smiles sharply again and the gesture dies almost as suddenly, not someone who is given to such niceties very often. “Don’t be sorry, you were doing as you were told and of course coming here isn’t such a bad place. Sometimes there are people who worry far too much.” Adding conspiratorially with a thin grin, “Like me.” Getting back onto the main conversation, she tries to steer it back on track, “Strawberry and peach? That sounds mouth-watering.” “Maybe I should pick some of those up as well for an extra surprise.”

“They’re very nice,” Dara replies. The words still come slowly, hindered by the little girl’s lingering confusion and newfound uncertainty, but she can’t be entirely unhappy when there is a cake in her hand and a tray of them in front of her. “If your daughter would like the sugar-flowers,” Dara offers, her smile edging back as she turns the conversation hopefully back towards a happier topic, “then maybe she’d like these, too?”

“Yes, she probably would. Both my children are terribly fond of sweets and their father does send them on occasion, but I tend to ignore such things. However, I’ve been told rather *pointedly* that *other* children get sweets sent to them, sometimes as often as *every day*.” Chuckling again, Astra looks over to case and sighs, “I had a few minutes, so I thought I could come by and pick a few things up to surprise them. Surprises are fun now and again.”

Coming out of the back room again, Eva seems to be covered in a reddish sticky substance. Pulling a bit out of her hair, she seems to be rather displeased. “Sorry about that, ladies,” she tells those in her shop, and shakes her head. “Now, is there anything I can get either of you since you’ve been waiting so long?” she asks them, stepping out from behind the counter and attempting, however fruitlessly, to undo the mess that has become of her apron.

With an “Oh!” that only grows more startled as she sees the shopkeeper’s disheveled, sticky appearance, Dara turns towards Eva again. “I’m sorry – er – how much is this, ma’am?” Dara holds up the cake, now with several bites taken out of it. Her cheeks pinken a little, but the smile that she gives Eva is more apologetic than embarrassed. “And I’d like a few more, if I might?”

Grimacing at the mess, Astra‘s brows furrow upwards. “I hope no one got hurt?” As the child speaks up, she falls silent and waits her own turn. Looking at the display cases, she takes her own time now to decide upon what she wants to order.

Eva quotes the price to Dara quickly, with a bit of a grin and wipes her hands on her now not-so-white apron. “I’ll get those together for you if you’ll place the payment there on the counter,” the woman tells the girl and makes her way behind, pulling out a small box to put the little cakes in. “There were no casualties this time, thankfully. Apparently our licorice root spoiled, though. That’s what caused the explosion.” She chuckles and puts the box out on the counter, awaiting payment.

Too late, Dara realizes the question she should have asked – now, she does look embarrassed, and adds a murmured, “That’s good,” to Eva’s expression of relief at the lack of injuries. The quoted price produces no such uneasiness, though, and Dara reaches into her pocket with the hand that is not holding the cake to pull out several shiny Sickles and Knuts. “Thank you very much, ma’am.”

“I’m glad to hear it was only a mess.” Wandering over to another section of the shop, Astra eyes the displays with longing eyes and then turns back. As the transaction finishes, she steps up but to the side of the girl, not wanting to get in anyone’s way. “I’m really here to pick up a few things for my children, but I’ve been looking at your wares.” “I’m terribly fond of sweets but I’m afraid sugar makes me rather,” pausing to find just the right word, “unmanageable.” “I don’t suppose you make anything sweet that doesn’t use sugars?” “Not that I think such a thing really exists.”

“Not a problem,” Eva tells Dara and puts the amount given into the register. “Is there anything specific that they enjoy?” Eva directs to Astra before the woman’s last question is directed to her. Pausing a moment, the woman seems stumped. “No, in fact, we don’t have any non-sugar sweets.” This fact has Eva‘s brain ticking, though her face appears completely blank for several moments. “What a wonderful idea. For those avoiding sugars… to have…” Her voice trails off and she is silent again for another moment. “I will have to bring that up to Maura!” The woman grins brightly at her patrons and then directs her face to Dara. “Oh, do come again soon. I’m sure we’ll have more sugar flowers shortly.”

“Thank you,” Dara replies, her own smile brightening at the mention of the sugar flowers. The door jingles open again with a rush of wind, and a tall, auburn-haired woman sweeps through. “Dara!” the woman declares in a voice that is not unkind, but definitely used to being obeyed. “Come along, dear.” And Dara follows, giving Eva one last smile, and one last, “Thank you, ma’am!” as she picks up her little box of cakes and heads back outside.

As the child departs, Astra smiles just a little and then returns to the discussion. “I’m glad you think so. It’d be so good to be able to enjoy a real sweet now and again without fear of becoming horribly exuberant.” Grinning to herself, she shrugs. “Ah, as for my children I heard about the sugar flower cookies and would like to order four in advance. If you could send them to me by owl, I’d appreciate that. As for the rest, I’m not sure what they’d enjoy. I suppose a mix of whatever is most popular, I didn’t eat much of it growing up.”

“I’m sure there are more people who have the same situation with sweets as well,” Eva tells Astra, her excitement rising as she speaks. While she is chattering, she walks about the shop, collecting various types of sweets. “How many children is it? Just two, or more than that?” The woman seems to be thinking aloud as she continues without waiting for an answer. “We could have a whole line of sweets, and I’m sure I could do some of the cakes and cookies as well.” The woman stops, her arms full of various types of sweets. “This probably ought to do it.” Eva doesn’t even know how many children she is collecting sweets for, but that doesn’t seem to matter to her as she heads behind the counter again and deposits it all onto said surface.

Laughing openly at the amount of sweets on the counter, Astra isn’t at all put off by the gathering. “Only two, but I’m sure this will make them thrilled. I’ll just dole it out over time so I can remain in their good graces longer.” Grinning, she dips a hand into her coat and retrieves a purse of coins. “I’m very glad that you think it’s a good idea. Honestly, I hadn’t thought of it before coming here again and watching the little girl eat the cake.” “When you manage to come out with the line, you’ll have to send a letter to Hogwarts and let me know. I’ll be one of your first customers.”

“I will be sure to do so. Also, four sugar flower cookies, correct?” Of course that’s correct, Eva, she only just told you. “I’ll box them up and owl them as soon as they’re made, which should be in the next day or two.” Eva grins widely, and despite being covered in sugar residue. “Might I have your name, just so that I don’t send them to the wrong person?” For shame, Eva, not already knowing! She begins to quickly tuck all the sweets evenly into two separate bags — must be fair, after all — and then begins to tally it up onto her register. She soon is quoting the cost to Astra, feeling rather pleasant. After all, she is getting paid.

“Astra Rathe at Hogwarts School,” chattering pleasantly she digs out the needed sum and hands it over to Eva. “I’ll look forward to the news, it’s always a risk eating sweets and it will be absolutely wonderful having something I can eat without fear.” “And yes, four sugar flower cookies. I’ll have to sneak those to my daughter on the side, but I figure the boy wouldn’t want to have anything to do with something like that.”

Depositing the oddly-shaped coins into her register, Eva beams. “I’m sure she’ll love them. Hopefully more for taste than appearance, of course.” Eva winks as she says this and takes out a small box, depositing the two ornate baggies into it. “Here you are, Ms Rathe. I’ll get those two you soon, and I assure you that you will be the first to know as soon as we have created a non-sugar variety of sweets. Perhaps you would even be able to help us test for taste!”

“Thank you so much. The children are going to love these.” Taking the baggies and depositing them into the over-sized pockets of her coat, Astra grins. “Oh! Taste test? That’d be marvelous really,” and as she’s about to continue with some idle chatter something inside one of her pockets begins to chirp incessantly. “I need to run, classes to teach, but do drop me an owl if you’re interested in having me help. I’d be very happy to lend my assistance.” Ushering herself outside quickly, she departs the way she came.