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Chapter Text

It was uncommonly cool weather for a Scottish August the night Headmaster Twycross upturned the Cuthberts’ quiet lives forever. Marilla Cuthbert, a tall, stern looking woman who looked the sort to not tolerate nonsense was waving her wand over a small fire as a tea kettle whistled on the stove. She was still in her day robes, plain black and not at all decorative, and her greying hair was in its usual severe bun. It had been quite an average day for Marilla, and she was completely unsuspecting of the ruckus her world was about to experience as a sound knock came from the door, and Headmaster Twycross waited patiently on her stoop. 

“Oh goodness me, come in, Headmaster, please,” Marilla ushered in the older man, her hands already reaching for a third teacup before his feet had even finished crossing the threshold. “Whatever brings you here to our little corner of the woods at this time of night? Not an emergency I hope.” Emergencies were quite common place during the school year, but with yet two weeks left in the summer holidays, there was none of the usual magical maladies or teenage spells gone wrong that would call upon Marilla’s presence. 

“I am very sorry to intrude, dear Marilla, and at such a late hour,” Twycross spoke slowly, his words quiet but heavy with his lingering childhood welsh accent. “Though I really must insist you call me Wilford, Marilla, as I have for these many years," he teased the younger woman gently. 

“You may insist all you want over a cup of tea,” Marilla said briskly. “You take yours with two sugars?” 

“Yes, yes, thank you,” Twycross settled comfortably in one of the parlor chairs. “Then, if you please, Marilla, could you call Matthew in from wherever he is hiding? There is a rather, well, delicate situation I must inform you both about.” 

Marilla looked up sharply at his words. The Headmaster looked up at her, his face lined with a grave expression, and Marilla felt an odd sense of dread hang over her, as if she was on the precipice of something that there was no turning back for. 

Had Marilla been more in tune with her emotional or fanciful side, perhaps she would have recognized this building anticipation, the sounds of fate creeping up behind her. But Marilla prided herself on being a practical woman, and so these signs of destinial foreshadowing were dismissed without a second thought. 

“Right away, Headmaster,” Marilla said, and hurried out of the backdoor and toward the barn where her brother, Matthew, had been feeding the animals. 

“Matthew? Matthew!” Marilla called. “Matthew come in at once, the headmaster is here to see us!” 

There was a sound of sudden exclamation, and something falling before being hurriedly fixed from the barn. A man stumbled out, the very look of confusion with his hair sticking half up and decorated with hay, his greyish-brown clothes smudged with dirt and covered with patches. 

“Oh well don’t you look a sight for company,” Marilla sighed. “Well, nothing that can be done about that, as he’s here already, and with not a warning at all.” 

“I, I’ll jus’, maybe,” Matthew gestured half-heartedly at his clothes and then looked back at the safe haven of the barn. 

“You will not step foot back in the barn Matthew Cuthbert,” Marilla said sternly. “How would that look, hiding from our company? And besides, he asked for the both of us, on some urgent matter.” Marilla ignored the confusion dawning on her brother’s face. The matter would be made clear to the both of them as soon as they asked the headmaster, and there was no use in wondering about it until then. “Now come in, I left the tea on the stove and that kettle gets all sorts of contrary if I don’t take it off in time, spluttering obscenities that the headmaster does not need to overhear.” And with that, Marilla took off briskly back toward the house, Matthew following reluctantly behind her. 

A half hour later  they were all three seated back in the parlor, cups of hot tea placed on the Cuthbert’s best saucer cups, and a ringing silence filling the room. Headmaster Twycross let out a deep sigh, wishing he could prolong the moment by asking for a biscuit or some more sugar. But all the proper greetings between him and Matthew had taken place, in their own awkward way, and all of his best attempts at the necessarily small talk had been met with quick, timid answers. No, it was best get on it with, and stop imposing on the Cuthbert’s any more than he already had. 

“I’ve come to discuss a problem that myself and the Deputy Headmaster Allen have run into regarding one of the new first years, a rather, well, delicate as I put it earlier, situation that I was hoping the two of you could help us solve.” 

“Matthew and I?” Marilla said with a small bit of shock. “Why, it isn’t about the Hufflepuff students, is it?” 

“No, no, nothing of the sort.” Twycross assured her, warmed at how seriously she took her duties. Stern Marilla Cuthbert may be, but she would do Helga Hufflepuff herself proud with how she looked after the young witches and wizards of her house. 

It would be best, Twycross decided, to stop dithering about for the best words and just get out with it. The chips would fall where they would. 

“One of the new students for the term was listed at living in a muggle household. Somewhere down in the south, some small village. When Professor Allen went to go and do the usual chat with her and her parents in June, we found the situation...unusual. Not at all what we expected.” 

Wilford paused to take a fortifying sip of his tea. Marilla and Matthew shared a quick, perplexed glance, still unsure at where their help would be needed. 

“Allen was forbidden by the man and woman of the household to speak with the child, and confessed that he was unable to even catch a glimpse of her as he was practically pushed  out the door. Dreadful place, apparently, he said that he saw at least two children wandering around barefoot, in rags practically, and heard such crying and screaming inside that he figured there to be at least two more young children in the residence. Smelled something awful too.” 

“Her parents wouldn’t even let him speak?” Marilla asked, aghast. She couldn’t even imagine being so rude to a gentleman such as Professor Allen. 

“Well that is where the situation gets a little tricky,” Twycross admitted. “The man and woman were very adamant that they were not the young girl’s parents. She was sent out to them from an orphanage, apparently, by a neighboring town. I myself went to the orphanage after hearing Allen’s report, hoping to clear the whole matter up.” 

“The matron was less than enthused about my whole offer, I regret to say,” Twycross sighed. The whole memory of the place, and the people working there, still made his heartstrings sting. The idea of a child, a magical child, growing up in such a place of despair...

“She knew the child I spoke of, a girl named Anne Shirley, said she had been there since she was just a babe. When I told her that there was a place for Anne at a boarding school in Scotland, requested by her parents, she was very against the idea. Said that she had never heard of such a thing, that the orphanage wasn’t handing over fistfulls of money they didn’t have so that a, I quote, “young foolish girl could go running about in the highlands learning useless things, or, likely, you all to scamper off with it and never return!”

“My goodness,” Marilla muttered. “She seems like a well tempered woman!” 

“Not one best suited to watch over children,” Twycross agreed. “I did my absolute best to persuade the matron, told her no money would be required, that the school would take care of it, all we would need is for them to house young Anne for the holidays.” The matron had seemed even more cross by that idea, Tywcross recalled. “But the woman wouldn’t budge. She said that Anne wasn’t even under the Asylum’s patronage then, as she had been taken in by a family, and when she should return, as the matron had no doubt she would be, she would only be leaving to be adopted or placed out again, not to attend some school run by foolhardy time-wasters.” 

“Well I never,” Marilla said, aghast. “What an awful woman.” Matthew hummed in agreement. 

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Wilford said, taking another drink of his tea. “I went back again in July, and again last week, to try and persuade her to change her mind,but to no avail.” 

“How wretched,” Marilla sighed. It did sound unfortunate, a young witch in such circumstances, never to learn her magical gifts or attend Hogwarts. She had heard about such things before, muggle families who refused to send their children.

“But I don’t understand how Matthew and I are to be involved,” Marilla asked when it was clear Twycross wasn’t going to say anything more. 

“Well,” Twycross cleared his throat awkwardly, playing with the teacup and saucer before finally meeting Marilla’s gaze. “As I said, the matron said Anne would only leave the orphanage if she were adopted by a family. And it dawned on me earlier this week that perhaps there was a way young Ms Shirley could attend Hogwarts - if she were adopted by a wizarding family.” 

“Well, is she muggleborn?” Marilla asked, trying to remember if she knew any Shirley’s in the wizarding community. “She must be, to wind up in a muggle orphanage, but perhaps she does have some wizarding relatives to take her in and send her to Hogwarts.” Was that what the Headmaster wanted her and Matthew to do, to try and find the girl’s family? Marilla could do it, she supposed, but there were others far better suited to such as task. Rachel Lynde came to mind right away.

“We can’t quite figure that part out,” Twycross admitted. “As far as our records show, there have been no Shirley’s at Hogwarts before. But the girl was on our attendance list as soon as she was born - something that usually only happens to children with magical parents.” 

“Halfblood, maybe?” Matthew murmured. It was the first time he had spoken in over thirty minutes. 

“That is my belief as well, though we will probably never know for sure,” Wilford said. “But that isn’t why I’m here - we have had no hope in trying to track down relatives, and so it must be someone else to adopt that child. I would myself, except that as her future headmaster doing so would cross several lines, I’m afraid. Not to mention that as an elderly bachelor, I am not a good candidate for my adopting to be accepted. No, it would need to be two people, with their own place so that Anne had somewhere to go during the holidays, preferably who had a connection to Hogwarts and could give the young girl the support she has clearly been without her whole life.”

It was beginning to dawn on Marilla just why the headmaster had asked to speak with her and Matthew. 

“You can’t mean-" she gasped. “Matthew and I?” Beside her Matthew started. 

“I’m afraid that is just what I mean, Marilla,” Twycross said gently. “I know this is a large favor to ask the both of you, to take in a child on top of all of your other duties. But I see no better option for the child to be able to attend Hogwarts. At least think about it.” 

“I, well, I mean,” Marilla stuttered. Her thoughts were running around too fast for her to make sense of them. She looked at her brother, trying to gage what he was thinking. Surely Matthew, sweet, shy Matthew, would absolutely dread having a child running around, even if it were only for the holiday months? 

Matthew’s eyes flickered to her and away again, too quick to make contact. His gaze came to rest on the mantelpiece in the corner, carefully dusted by Marilla only that morning. Photos and memorabilia were placed artfully on there. Matthew’s eyes roved over them as the headmaster’s words echoed over and over in his mind. They came to rest on the last photo - the only family photo the Cuthbert’s had, taken after Matthew’s first year. Matthew in the photo was still in his Hogwarts robes, smiling shyly at the camera and ducking behind his older siblings. A teenaged Marilla was shaking her head, leaning into her older brother’s side as she cajoled little Matthew to come out. And the last sibling...Michael was laughing, ruffling Matthew’s head and kissing Marilla’s cheek before waving exaggeratedly at the camera, encouraging Matthew to do the same. He was smiling broadly, more lively in a decades old photo than Matthew ever had been. 

He looked back at Marilla, his mind made up, and his sister could see his decision in a way that only a sibling could. He shrugged, looking back at the mantelpiece, and Marilla followed his gaze. 

Her eyes didn’t fall on the old family photo but on the cross stitch piece at the end of the mantle. A decorative pillow, starch white except for the yellow and black badger in the center, the Hufflepuff motto etched underneath. 

Heaven help us Marilla sighed. This will lead to no shortage of troubles and trials, no doubt about it. Which of us knows the first thing about raising a child? 

“No need to think about it, Headmaster,” Marilla said matter of factly. Twycross’ expression fell for a moment, though he hastily tried to swallow any disappointment. He had known this would be a large favor to ask. He simply would have to let the child go. 

His melancholy was short lived, as Marilla continued. 

 “We’ll do it, Headmaster. Matthew and I will adopt Anne.”  

*** Four Months Later: December *** 

It had been a long process, adopting Anne. Marilla, Matthew, and Headmaster Twycross had to go through the wizarding and muggle governments in order for the Cuthberts to appear legitimate, and then dealing with the orphanage itself. Adoption wasn’t even possible until nearly November, when Anne was suddenly returned to the orphanage by the family she had been placed with. With all of this, not to mention the usual hustle and bustle of the start of term for Wilford and Marilla, the whole thing was not settled until early December, when the holiday season was nearly upon them. 

Marilla and Wilford decided it would be best, then, for Anne to start in the new term, to give her some time to get settled and used to the idea of magic, before having to start catching up to her peers. Matthew was sent to fetch her on the last day of term, and they would be taking the Hogwarts Express from London once all the students going home had disembarked. Marilla had meant to go with him, to help explain to Anne about magic and Hogwarts, but two third year Hufflepuffs had been caught out of bounds the night before Matthew left, and Marilla was up until the wee hours of the morning dealing with that. 

Matthew, Marilla declared, would just have to tell Anne himself, and she took no notice at his feeble protests as she marched to her room to lie down. 

Now, on the day of Anne’s arrival, Marilla found herself a bundle of nerves and anticipation as she awaited them. She had never been in such a restless state before - she cleaned the whole house twice, baked thrice the amount of biscuits than needed that she then distributed to several perplexed neighbors, and went through several cups of tea. Rachel Lynde stopped by, but after having to repeat herself to a distracted Marilla for a fourth time left in a humph. In vain, Marilla tried to distract herself with knitting, fixing up an old dress while Matthew’s overcoat was being mended besides her. 

Finally, finally, Marilla heard the front gate swing open. She dropped the knitting as she stood and started toward the door. Before she could even open the door, she heard a young high voice chattering. 

“-charming! Does it have a name? I just adore places that have names, it gives them such an air of distinction, like a fortress or little fairy cottage from a story! Oh, the garden is just lovely, Matthew, all the snow blanketing the evergreens and-oh!” 

Marilla had opened the door, and found herself face to face with a small, freckle faced girl with a shock of red hair organized neatly into braids. Marilla found herself approving of the hair style - nice and neat, no vain frills or fuss like some of the children she saw at the castle, Marilla was glad to note. She was glad the child was practical about her appearance. That approval was marred by the amount of snow that adorned the top of her head - had Matthew not had the sense to put a hat on her? 

“And you must be Marilla!” The girl - Anne - exclaimed in wild delight, and before Marilla could respond she was nearly knocked over in a fierce hug. “Oh, Marilla, I  can’t even begin to explain to you the depths of my gratitude to you and Mr Cuthbert, to adopt me, plain old orphan Anne, and bring me to such a lovely home, nestled in such a place of such awe-inspiring beauty! Oh, I promise you will not regret it, not in the least, I-” 

“Merlin above, child, calm down before you make yourself sick with hysteria,” Marilla snapped. “Well, you can talk, that’s for certain. Now come in, the both of you, before you catch your death of cold.” 

She ushered Anne in, as Matthew began to stomp the snow off of his boots behind her. 

“Oh I do apologize Marilla, I’ve been told that I talk too much and I endeavor not to be a bother, but in times of  utter euphoria such as this I find that I absolutely must-” Anne stopped suddenly, and Marilla closed her eyes in relief at the quiet. 

“Well, now, that’s a bit better," she turned around to look at this new charge of hers, and found Anne staring at the corner, eyes wide and fingers shaking. Her cheeks, previously red with cold, had gone utterly white. 

“The needles....they’re...they’re...” Anne stuttered, pointing a finger at where Marilla had been sitting not a moment before. There, still hanging in midair, was the set of needles, still mending Matthew’s overcoat. 

Anne turned slowly, looking up at Marilla with ill-concealed wonder and fear. 

“Are you...are you a witch? ” Anne whispered, looking as if she would faint from the word itself. “Is that magic? ”

“Am I...” Marilla repeated, before whirling on Matthew. Her brother shrugged sheepishly. 

“ Matthew Cuthbert!” 

***   

“Anne, hurry up!” Marilla’s voice called from the parlor. “Headmaster Twycross is expecting us within the hour at his office. 

“Coming Marilla!” Anne called, fiddling with her new robes for a final time before rushing down the stairs. 

The last few days had been the happiest Anne had ever been - happier than she could have ever imagined, even with her broad imagination. She had been thrilled just to finally be adopted, and by such kindred spirits as she already knew Matthew (and maybe Marilla) to be. Then, on top of that, to discover that magic was real, and that she, Anne, plain old Anne, was a witch! Why, Anne had nearly passed out on the spot for sheer delight. 

It all came out on the second day, after Anne had time to recover from her discovery that magic was real; how the Cuthberts had been asked to adopt her so she could attend Hogwarts, how she was to get a wand and a cauldron and start school in January with other witches and wizards. Marilla warned her she would be a bit behind, as the other students had begun in September, but after this meeting with the headmaster, Marilla would start helping her catch up.  All of this had momentarily sent Anne into the depths of despair - to learn they hadn’t adopted her because they wanted her, but because they had to, had been a hard blow. 

But Anne rallied herself quickly. It didn’t matter that they wouldn’t be a family - the Cuthberts were still kinder to Anne than anyone else had been, giving her a place to stay and adopting her so she could go to school. Anne would still be able to learn magic, to attend a school full of witches and wizards in a grand, mysterious old castle- why, that was more than enough for Anne! She couldn’t expect all that and a family. 

Matthew didn’t join them on their way to the castle - his duties as Hogwarts groundskeeper kept him busy most days, and he was behind, having gone with them the day before to get Anne her school supplies. 

Anne  sighed dreamily as she thought about her wand- Marilla had put it away as soon as they returned, to give to Anne when she went off, but Anne remembered perfectly the feel of the smooth wood in her hand, the warmth that flooded through her when it was first placed in her hand. 

This is right. Her brain had said. This is what we’ve been missing all these years, this part of us. 

Anne, for all her fancies, had never thought before that objects could be kindred spirits, but she believed wholeheartedly that a witch’s wand must be. 

She had committed to memory everything the wandmaker had told her - 13 inches, supple, Redwood and phoenix feather. 

“I think, Ms Shirley,” The wandmaker had said as she left, winking “that we can expect great and surprising things from you.” 

She peppered Marilla with questions all the way to the castle - was Marilla a professor at the school? What exactly did Matthew do? What different types of magic were there?Were her parents magic too? Did she think Cordelia was a much better name for a which than plain old Anne? 

Marilla bore the questions with her usual amount of patience and practicality, explaining in quick words that she was not a professor at the school - she assisted Matthew with the Hogwarts groundskeeping and keeping up Green Gables in Hogsmeade, and she was made head of Hufflepuff house three years ago, as none of the professors remaining at Hogwarts had been in Hufflepuff house. Matthew took care of the grounds, animals and forest surrounding Hogwarts, a job that let them both keep on living at Green Gables. She couldn’t possibly know about Anne’s parents, and lectured Anne yet again on trying to change her name. 

Anne had been relentless, asking more questions until they rounded the bend and Hogwarts Castle came into view. At the sight of the majestic grey castle towering over the snowy white fields, owls swooping around the tall parapets, Anne had been stunned into silence, taking it all in. 

She remained quiet all the way up to the Headmaster’s office. It was a cozy little place, decorated in tones of purple and cream with books and plants scattered around shelves. A brown tabby was curled up in an armchair, golden eyes watching Anne. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a place as splendid as this,” Anne whispered, and Marilla smiled fondly as Anne looked around.  “Oh Marilla, are you absolutely sure I’m not dreaming?” 

Headmaster Twycross strode through the side door before Marilla could respond. 

“You must be Anne Shirley," he said kindly, shaking Anne’s hand with quiet enthusiasm that the girl matched tenfold. “I must say, we are very happy to finally have you at Hogwarts, after all the trouble we took to get you here! Have you been settling in alright?” 

“Oh yes, Matthew and Marilla have been most kind,” Anne said sincerely. “It’s all been such a wonder, learning about magic and spells, and I am so very grateful for everything you and the Cuthberts did to get me here, I promise I won’t be any trouble at all, really.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Marilla said dryly as Twycross let out a soft chuckle. Anne couldn’t help but feel at ease around the elderly headmaster, and the nerves that had been building since she and Marilla left Green Gables settled somewhat. 

“Well, I am sure you have some exciting weeks ahead of you, and I’ll leave you and the Cuthberts to it,” Twycross said. “We’ll see enough of each other once the term begins, I’m sure. But there is one thing that needs to be taken care of, my dear, and that," he winked, tapping Anne’s nose. She startled, grinning in delight. “Is your sorting! Now come along, come along." He ushered Anne into the armchair, shooing away the cat. 

“Just sit here a moment," he waved his wand and from the top shelf an old hat floated down lazily. Anne watched, transfixed. She was never tired of seeing people perform magic. To think that in a few weeks, that would be her! 

“Now, don’t you worry about a thing,” Twycross said as he plucked the hat out of air and walked towards her. “The sorting hat is never wrong.” 

Anne glanced at Marilla, all of her nerves flooding back, but the older woman just smiled encouragingly at her. She squirmed on the seat of the armchair as the Headmaster dropped the hat on her head. 

What is a sorting hat supposed to do anyways? How does it know what house I belong in? What if nothing happens? Will it just send me home? Has this all just been some sort of horrible mistake and they were wrong, they were all wrong and I’m not actually a witch, and I’ll have to leave the Cuthberts and Green Gables and go back to the orphanage while knowing that this amazing, wondrous, magical world is all still here, out of my reach for all of eternity-

Well, you’re certainly a witch. There isn’t any doubt about that. 

Anne gasped as a wry, raspy voice suddenly sounded in her head. Was this a magic thing? Had she gone mad? Was it Katie? 

Who are you? 

I’m the sorting hat, The voice said - did it sound amused, or did Anne just imagine that? But if this was all her imagination, then she must of imagined it amused, and

You’re going to think yourself into a tangle if you keep doing that, the voice scolded. This isn’t your imagination, though I can see you certainly would be capable of thinking such a thing up. I don’t think you would make me an old hat though. 

Anne had to admit that was true. If she were making up a magical hat that was sorting her, she would make it far prettier, and grander - maybe a crown, or a hat decorated with gold and silver starlight. 

Well, I may not be pretty, but I’m more useful than some old crown, The hat said. There isn’t any other hat in the world that can do this, I tell you that. 

And what is this, exactly? Anne asked in her mind. 

It’s just as the Headmaster said. I’m sorting you. Now, let’s see....you’re certainly brave, no question. I can see a great deal of nerve and daring deeds in your future. Gryffindor wouldn’t be a bad fit. 

Anne tried to recall everything Marilla had told her on the way over about the houses. She knew the most about Hufflepuff house, the house that all the Cuthberts had been in, going back three generations. Marilla had said Hufflepuff house was for those who were hardworking and trustworthy. Anne thought that maybe she could be both of those things - she certainly had been hardworking at the Hammonds, hadn’t she? And it would be nice to be in the same house that Matthew had been in, a kindred spirit. All Marilla had said about Gryffindor was that it was the house of people who were brave - and reckless, Marilla had stressed. Brave didn’t sound bad to Anne. It was like one of the romantic heroes in her stories. 

Hmmm, you would do well in Hufflepuff, but is it where you truly belong? It certainly isn’t Slytherin, resourceful as you are...but what is this? A quick and ready mind, an enthusiasm for learning all you can about anything...ah yes, Ravenclaw would suit you as well, Ms Shirley. 

Ravenclaw. Marilla had said that was the house of the learned and wise. Anne didn’t really think of herself as wise, and Marilla would probably be the first to agree. 

But maybe, that was the point? To be in a house where she could learn to be wise? Anne would really benefit from that. More so than learning to work hard or be brave. She already knew those things. 

Ravenclaw. Anne screwed up her head and thought the word as hard she could. I want to be in Ravenclaw. 

Ah yes, I think that is where you belong indeed, the hat sounded amused again. 

The next time the hat spoke, it was for everyone in the room to here. 

“RAVENCLAW!” 

Anne’s smile had never been brighter. 

  * * *

“Now, remember to thank Ms Lynde for having us over for tea, and mind your manners when you sit at the table. Rachel can be a very proper sort, so you may want to think about holding your tongue for once as well- Anne are you listening?” Marilla watched with exasperation as the red headed girl skipped around the forest, giggling and waving at the trees. 

“Anne!" She snapped when the redhead didn’t respond. 

“Sorry Marilla!” Anne called. “I’m just saying hello to the dryad - none of them have come to say hello to me yet, but I’m of the firm conviction it’s because they’re waiting to see just what sort of person I am. I’m sure once we’re acquainted we’ll be of the very best friends, I couldn’t imagine a better kindred spirit than a dyrad-”

“What are you babbling about child?” Marilla shook her head. “Such nonsense, there isn’t such thing as dryads. These are just regular old trees.” 

Anne stopped mid skip, looking up at Marilla aghast. “Oh Marilla surely you must be joking!”

“I never joke,” Marilla said primly. 

“But in a magnificent and magical world like this, surely there must be dryads! Why, they are the very essence of magic and enchantment Marilla, and this forest would be absolutely perfect for them to reside!”

“Well, be that as it is, they still don’t exist outside muggle fairy tales,” Marilla said with finality. “Now hurry up before we get buried by this snow.” 

“What an utter disappointment that is to learn,” Anne sighed heavily. Marilla fought the urge to roll her eyes. Merlin save her from the dramatics of an over-active imagination! 

Anne stopped her leaping about and instead trudged besides Marilla, her hands stuffed in her pockets. 

Well, really. One would think Marilla had just told her she had kicked a kneazle. 

“Perhaps, if you behave well at Rachel’s, Matthew can show you the fairies tonight,” Marilla found herself saying. 

The turn around was immediate. Anne gasped, her entire face lighting up as if Christmas had come around again. 

“Oh Marilla! You mean fairies do exist! Oh how wonderfully splendid! And you really mean it, I can go with Matthew to see them after tea, today? Oh that is so exciting, I can’t believe I’m going to see a real live fairy today!” Anne squealed, resuming her skipping with renewed energy. 

“ If you behave! Anne!” Marilla called. 

“I’ll behave! I promise!” Anne yelled, spinning dizzily in the snow. “Oh this is the height of euphoria!” 

Marilla just shook her head. The child would need some proper companionship, and soon, before she really did just run off to galavant with the fairies and trees. 

* * * 

“Hello Anne, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Diana said, the image of propriety as her mother looked on approvingly from behind her. Diana hadn’t really known what to expect when her mother had said that Madam Cuthbert was coming by with her new adopted daughter, but this was beyond anything she could have thought of. 

“Oh the pleasure is all mine, Diana, really!” The redheaded girl shook Diana’s hand enthusiastically. Her broad grin made Diana like her almost immediately, despite Anne’s complete lack of etiquette so far. Diana had never seen anyone with so much energy. She wondered, for the first time, if she was boring in comparison. 

And yet...Anne was looking at Diana as if she were the most wonderful person in the universe. And all they had done was say hello! She was really a peculiar person, Diana decided. 

She also decided she wanted to be Anne’s friend very, very much. 

“Diana, why don’t you take Anne up to your room and show her your schoolbooks?” Diana’s mother said, offering Marilla a seat in the parlor. 

“Yes, mother,” Diana responded. “Come along Anne, you can meet Alethia.”

“Is that your sister?” 

“No, my sister’s name is Minnie May, but we won’t have to see her,” Diana assured Anne. She wanted Anne to like her, and Minnie May always spoiled everything. “Alethia is my owl.”

“What a beautiful name,” Anne sighed admiringly. “Much better than plain old Anne - at least I have an e on the end, to make it slightly more tolerable.”

“I like Anne,” Diana said thoughtfully. “It sounds regal. There have been a lot of Queen Anne’s, haven’t there.” 

“Yes, but they were queens.” Anne mused. “I suspect it’s a lot easier for your name to sound beautiful if the title queen is in front of it. But thank you for your kindness Diana, though trying to improve my name is a hopeless case, I’ll assure you.” 

Diana giggled. “You’re very funny, Anne.” 

“I wasn’t trying to be!” Anne exclaimed, and Diana laughed again. 

“Here’s my room. My schoolbooks are on the table.” Diana pointed. “I’m afraid the transfiguration one is very boring - they all are, a bit, except the astronomy one.”

“Oh, never!” Anne said, holding the book out as if it were a treasured heirloom. “Oh, Diana, just imagine all the amazing knowledge these books hold between them! I hold in my hand answers to truths I never even dared to dream of! It’s like a pirate’s treasure and Aladdin’s cave and the Queen’s jewels all rolled into one!” 

“It’s just a year one potions book,” Diana responded, but she gave her books a second glance. All the truths in the world? Maybe she should start reading ahead, just to see what Anne meant. Maybe she could learn who this Aladdin person was - Diana had never heard of this wizard. Was he a cursebreaker? 

“So, why weren’t you at Hogwarts in the first term?” Diana asked. Her mother would be horrified to hear Diana ask such a personal question, but Diana wanted so desperately to know. Hogwarts would have been much more fun that first term if Anne had been there. 

“Oh, the Cuthbert’s hadn’t adopted me yet,” Anne said matter of factly. “I grew up in an orphanage - a, a muggle one, I guess you would call it - and I was placed out with a family from last May until October. They wouldn’t let me come to Hogwarts, and then when I got sent back to the orphanage, the Headmaster had to arrange to have the Cuthberts adopt me so that I could leave and come to Hogwarts. By that time it was already the holidays. I am ever so excited to start, though I expect I have a lot to catch up on.”

“I can help you catch up,” Diana promised immediately. Although her own spell work wasn’t always the best, and the potions master was always complaining about her lackluster potions. But Ruby and Josie were good at potions, maybe they would help. Diana could teach Anne to fly though - that was the best part of Hogwarts, in Diana’s most private thoughts, learning to fly. She hadn’t been allowed before going to Hogwarts, but the feeling of being in the air was the most incredible thing in the world. Diana had nearly fallen off her broom in delight the first time she pulled off a dive. It was better than any magic spell she had learned so far. 

Poor Anne, stranded far away, unknowing of everything she was missing while Diana and the others were learning to fly!

“How perfectly dreadful it must have been, in the muggle orphanage,” Diana shuddered. 

Anne went still, her smile fading away for a moment. She stared out the window as if looking at something far away. 

“Anne?” 

Anne shook herself, and the moment passed, her smile back as if it had never gone away. “There are certainly better places, but that’s all behind me now.”

“And you’re with the Cuthberts!” Diana said happily, wanting to cheer Anne up. “Mother says they’re a good, old magical family, and Madam Cuthbert is a good head of house, I hear.”

“Oh, I’m not really a Cuthbert,” Anne said ariely. “They just adopted me after Headmaster Twycroft asked so that I could attend Hogwarts. But I really couldn’t ask to be taken in by any nicer people, even if it’s just as a student.” 

“Oh,” Diana wrung her hands awkwardly at Anne’s words. Surely she would want a family, didn’t she? Diana couldn’t imagine not having her family, as annoying as Minnie May could be. But Anne seemed alright with it all, so Diana cast her mind around to change the subject to something less uncomfortable. 

“Do you know what house you’ll be in?” Diana asked. “I’m in Ravenclaw, but its dreadfully small, there’s only four of us in the whole house-”

“Oh Diana, you’re a Ravenclaw!?” Anne had flown to her side, exclaiming in delight. “Why, that’s where the sorting hat put me!” 

“That’s wonderful Anne, we’ll be housemates!” Diana smiled widely. 

“Just- just housemates?” Anne said, suddenly quiet. “Or -well, Diana do you suppose we could be friends? The most dearest, closest of kindred spirits and friends?”

Diana didn’t follow half of what Anne had just said, but she took one look at this smaller girl, red hair mussed from her hat, her blue eyes wide and solemn. She was without a doubt the strangest girl Diana had ever met, full of ideas and words that seemed bigger than both of them, and yet asking with trepidation if Diana would be her friend, her closest friend despite having met her fifteen minutes before. 

Diana made up her mind right then and there that she would follow and defend this strange girl with her every breath. 

“Oh Anne, I think we already are,” Diana clasped Anne’s hands, and Anne beamed at her. 

“Oh we must mark this with a most solemn oath, to swear to be beside each other from this moment until forever!” Anne decided. 

“A swear?” Diana echoed, clutching at Anne’s hand to stop her from bounding out the door. “You- you don’t mean an unbreakable vow do you? My mother says those are most dreadfully wicked.” Maybe her decision had been a bit hasty...

Anne looked back at her, head tilted to the side. “An unbreakable vow? What’s that?” 

“Mother told me it’s a forbidden and awful thing, something only Dark Wizards do,” Diana informed her. “They cast a spell and swear to both do something - something wicked usually, and if one of them doesn’t do it-" she paused, afraid to continue, but Anne was enraptured, hanging on to every word. “Something terrible happens to them,” Diana finished. “Mother wouldn’t say exactly what but- it must be horrid." She shivered. 

“How delectably awful. ” Anne breathed. “But of course, dearest Diana, we wouldn’t be doing anything of that sort. An oath of kindred spirits is nothing like what you just described, really. It’s just a promise between two friends, that they will never been torn asunder or put doubt in one another, but stick together and be with each other always in spirit.” 

Diana mulled over the words. They certainly didn’t sound like something wicked, and she quite liked the idea of having someone who would always be beside her. 

“And of course there isn’t any spells involved - we can’t even use magic yet,” Anne said practically. “No, the only thing there is are friendship and words, which is its very own type of magic, I think.” 

Diana nodded. “Ok," she agreed. “Let’s swear then." She held out her finger for Anne to intwine.

“Not here!” Anne shook her head. “It must be somewhere surrounded by nature. We need to go out in the garden!”

“But it’s covered in snow,” Diana pointed out. Her mother would never approve of them running around in the garden in this weather. 

“Blanketed in white and everything sparkling a new - it’s the perfect setting for the blessing of a brand new friendship!” Anne said. “Oh Diana, it would only be for a moment, then right back inside.”

Anne’s excitement was invigorating. “Alright, but we’ll need to sneak out the back door,” Diana felt a swoop of pleasure at the words. Was this what being naughty felt like? “Hurry, before they come to check on us.

The girls tiptoed back down the stairs, smothering their giggles and cheeks flush with excitement. They used old boots of Mr Barry’s they found by the back door, nearly tripping through the snow in the too-large shoes. 

“Now, repeat after me.” Anne instructed, grasping Diana’s hand. “I solemnly swear...”

“I solemnly swear...” Diana whispered, warm despite the freezing Scottish cold. She thinks this might be even better than flying. 

***

Magic, Anne was starting to learn, was not as simple as waving a wand. In fact, there was quite a lot of work involved, and Anne was starting to despair of ever catching up. 

It had been two weeks since the new term has started, and Anne’s introduction to Hogwarts had gone less than smooth. Diana had been a perfect gem, of course, and the other Ravenclaw girl, Jane Andrews, was nice enough, but the other children had been cautious to approach the redheaded girl ever since her first transfiguration lesson, where the match she was trying to spell into a needle started flying around the room, smoking and whistling.  

All the teachers had been briefed on Anne’s unusual circumstances, and some of them were doing all they could to catch her up - the charms and herbology professors were especially helpful. But they were all busy with their other classes, and even with their help, there was still the undeniable fact: Anne was four months behind her other classmates. Trying to catch up while also learning everything they still were was a daunting task. 

A task that Anne was determined to surmount. Since the third day of term, she had buried herself in the Hogwarts Library, her new favorite place, and spent hours there, practicing spells over and over and memorizing potions and plants. She had taken to arriving early and staying after each of her classes to get answers to the dozens of her questions she had. The astronomy professor had taken to turning and walking the other way whenever he saw in the corridors, after she had kept him up until 3 in the morning one night after class. 

Diana kept Anne company as much as she could, but there was only so much of the library one could take at eleven years old. 

“Diana, you’ve sighed three times in as many minutes,” Anne said to her dear companion one January afternoon. “I really insist you go and do something fun, on both our accounts. There’s no need for you to be holed up in here with me when there’s such a wonderful world out there to explore.” 

“I couldn’t just leave you here alone,” Diana argued. “Besides, I promised I would help you catch up Anne, and I won’t go back on my word.”

“I’m hardly alone Diana, not when I’m surrounded by so many wonderful books!” Anne laughed. “And you have been such a help, really. I would still be using the wrong hand movement for my transfiguration spells if it hadn’t been for your assistance. But I release you from your promise, go and have fun. For me, Diana, I beg you.”

“Well - ok.” Diana said with some reluctance. “But don’t stay here too long Anne, you’ve been here since dinner.”

“I’ll be done soon,” Anne promised. “I’ll find you at supper, alright?”

“I’ll save you a seat!” Diana said, blowing Anne a kiss before nearly flying from the library. 

Anne caught the kiss and held it near her heart. 

“Now then, puffapods," she said resolutely, pulling the herbology book closer. “Let’s find out what makes you tick then.” 

It was hours later, long after the sun had set and the candles magically lit themselves, that Marilla strode into the library. The whole room was empty except for one table, packed full of books and one student hunched over it, her two distinct braids giving away her identity right away.

“Anne!” Marilla whispered fiercely. There was no one else there, of course, but the taboo of shouting in the library still lingered. 

Anne  didn’t move, still standing completely still over the table, wand clutched in her hand. 

“Anne?” Marilla repeated, softer. She hadn’t missed the way Anne would go still sometimes, her eyes far away and full of terrible things. She reached out and gently placed a hand on Anne’s shoulder. 

Anne turned to look up at her, and Marilla was horrified to see tears running down the girl’s cheeks. 

“Why Anne, whatever is the matter?” Marilla asked. Was she sick? Injured? 

“I did it, Marilla,” Anne let out a odd little laugh, grinning under her tears. “I really did it!” And completely spent emotionally, she collapsed into a hug around Marilla. 

“I-” Marilla blinked, confused. Her gaze fell onto the table. There, lined up in a row, were dozens and dozens of perfectly done needles. 

“Oh Anne,” Marilla sighed, feeling an odd mixture of pride and empathy. This girl really was something else. She let her arms settle around Anne for just a moment, before the awkwardness of it all caught up to her. 

“Now come alone, Anne. You’ve been so lost in your world up here you’ve missed supper. Poor Diana Barry was nearly frantic when she came to find me, I do believe your overactive imagination has begun to spread to her...” 

***

“Anne, over here!” Diana waved at her from across the courtyard, where a group of girls stood clustered around her. 

“Diana!” Anne greeted. She had woken up early and used the time to slip into the greenhouse to study the dried nettle plant, since it was so frequently an ingredient in their potions class. (She had hoped looking at the whole plant would help her understand how it worked in potions better. She didn’t think it worked.) By the time she had finished, Diana had already eaten breakfast and gone out into the courtyard. 

“Come on, you really ought to meet the other girls,” Diana said cheerfully, gesturing to the group she had been with. “It’s been over three weeks since term started, you can’t spend all of your time with books!" She dragged Anne over, both of them laughing a little.

“Girls, this is Anne,” Diana introduced her, smiling fondly. “Anne, you already know Jane, of course,” Jane waved at Anne. The two girls had spoken a few times at night or mealtimes, but their paths hadn’t crossed much. Still, Anne thought Jane to be a perfectly good housemate so far. Jane’s cat, Nimue, had already captured all three girls’ hearts, and they often bonded over giving the needy cat belly rubs. 

“And this is Ruby, and Tilly - they’re both in our year, but they’re in Gryffindor,” Diana nodded to a petite girl with strawberry blonde curls and a merry looking brunette with the rosiest cheeks Anne had ever seen. Anne was fairly certain they were in her DADA and astronomy classes, but they had never spoken. 

“Nice to meet you!” Ruby said politely, and Tilly nodded her head, giggling. 

“And this is Josie- she’s in Gryffindor like Ruby and Tilly but she’s a second year,” Diana reached the last girl. Josie was taller than the other girls, with beautiful blonde curls artfully arranged despite the wind. Anne smiled but Josie just tossed her curls, sniffing.  

“She’s the only Gryffindor girl in her year,” Tilly said, and Anne wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a good or bad thing. 

“Well, I’m simply delighted to make your acquaintance, I’m sure we’ll be the very best of friends-” Anne started but she was interrupted by Josie’s loud scoff. 

“A likely situation,” Josie sneered, and Anne blinked at the open disgust in Josie’s tone. She glanced at Diana, who looked right back, both of them lost for words. Ruby, Tilly and Jane all stared at them. 

“I heard about you- your the one that everyone is talking about,” Josie continued. “A dirty little orphan girl who grew up in a muggle orphanage, " she said muggle as if it were a curse word, and Anne felt something inside her break. 

“I-I" she stuttered. 

“Anne’s a witch,” Diana said firmly, trying to keep the peace. “The Cuthberts adopted her.”

“And just what were they thinking doing that?” Josie shook her head. “They were always strange but this is unacceptable. Adopting muggleborn orphan trash. You know that they are saying, right?" She looked imperiously at Ruby, Tilly, and Jane, who were all watching the situation unfold. Ruby and Tilly’s friendly smiles had been replaced by fearful suspicion. 

“What?” Tilly asked, her voice small. 

“That she’s so low even the muggles didn’t want her,” Josie said. Anne felt rooted to the spot. She couldn’t breath. Others were turning and listening in now. It wouldn’t be long until the whole courtyard would be watching this humiliation.

“Every single muggle sent her back to that dirty asylum, and that’s where she should have stayed,” Josie declared. “I don’t know what the headmaster was thinking, letting her in. Its obvious she doesn’t belong here.”

“I do belong here,” Anne whispered. “I’m a witch, just like you-”

“Please!” Josie snickered. “I heard you can’t even do basic spells! You’re holding your classes back- Merlin, she’s no better than a muggle. She’s worse than a squib!” 

Anne didn’t know what a squib was, but from the way that the other girls all gasped and stepped back, it wasn’t a good thing. Only Diana stayed by her side- sweet, loyal Diana. 

“You take that back Josie Pye!” Diana raged. “Anne’s just as much a witch as any of us!”

“Watch yourself Diana,” Josie warned. “I can’t believe your mother is letting you run around with someone of such terrible stock and breeding. Just watch, she’ll show her true colors soon enough. Trash always does." She crossed her arms. 

To Anne’s horror, Ruby, Tilly and even Jane all wouldn’t meet her eye, stepping closer to Josie. It was too much to bear. Anne ran from the courtyard, Diana crying out behind her. 

“Anne, Anne!” Diana finally caught up to her on the second floor, where Anne flung herself down between a suit of armor. 

“Oh Anne,” Diana murmured, reaching her arms around her friend. “Don’t listen to her, Anne. Josie Pye is a mean, hateful girl, and nothing she just said is true. You do belong here, Anne, you’re going to be an amazing witch. And soon the other girls will see it to. Just wait, I’ll smooth it all over.” 

“Oh Diana,” Anne gave her a watery smile. “What would I ever do without you?”

Diana grabbed her hand and squeezed. “You’ll never have to find out.” 

***

February brought with it more snow and rain, along with an enormous source of relief for Anne as she finally succeeded in catching up in all of her classes. Potions continued to vex her, as did the transfiguration teacher, Professor Phillips, but Anne was overjoyed to no longer have to spend all her time in the library in order to understand what was going on. Magic became once again a source of wonder and awe as she reached her peers level, and classes became fun instead of stressful. 

One benefit of having more time meant that Anne was able to attend her first Quidditch match, which she immediately proclaimed to be the most exciting event she had ever witnessed. Diana had promised to teach Anne how to fly as soon as the weather grew warm again, and both girls awaited the day with fervent anticipation. 

Hogwarts was marred for Anne only by one thing, and that was the behavior of Diana’s other circle of friends. Ruby and Tilly seemed to be following Josie’s lead completely when it came to ignoring Anne, and while Jane had to interact with Anne in class and the dorm, their conversations were short and stilted. The rest of their year seemed in no hurry to befriend Anne either, and Anne had noticed the first year Slytherins openly sneering at her in potions. 

But Anne refused to be upset by this. She had Diana, who was all she could need in the world, and she often visited Matthew in the grounds. With two such kindred spirits, what need did she have of any other friends? Especially ones as narrow minded as Josie Pye. The lack of social acceptance also gave her plenty of time to focus on her studies as well. With each class, Anne found casting spells easier and easier, and it wasn’t long before she was in the top of each of her classes, potions excepting. 

It was a Thursday afternoon when Anne learned that there were students at Hogwarts far worse than Josie Pye. 

She had been exiting Charms class with Diana, both of them clutching their graded essays. Anne had received top marks on hers, and the charms professor had even complimented her when she was the first to master their new spell. Anne felt on the top of the world. 

In her giddiness, she forgot to look where she was going and she collided with another student, both of them falling to the ground. 

“Oh, sorry-” Anne started to say, scrambling to grab her fallen charms book but a boot came out of the air and kicked the book across the corridor. Anne froze, hand outstreched still.

“You really should watch where you’re going,” Someone above her sneered. Anne scrambled upwards. A Slytherin boy that looked vaguely familiar was scowling at her. 

“I’m sorry-” Anne tried to apologize again. The Slytherin rolled his eyes and took a step forward. Anne noticed a few other boys behind him, all far bigger than she, smirking. She realized with a sickening sensation that Diana was no longer next to her- she had rushed across the corridor after Anne’s book. 

“Well? Aren’t you going to finish your apology?” The boy demanded. “You really have some nerve, you orphan freak, running into me, ”

“Please I just want to get to class-” Anne whispered. Her heart was racing. The boy was too close, everyone was too close, closing in on her-

Hold her down! 

Quick before she makes a sound! 

Don’t struggle Anne, we brought a friend for you! 

High pitched giggling and something brushed her face, something with wet fur and long whiskers...

“Well, freak? Are you dumb and stupid as well as being a muggle orphan?”

Too close, everyone was too close, she needed to get away. 

It happened, just like it had in the orphanage and the Hammonds - Anne was frozen, unable to move, while something inside of Anne began to build, quick and hot. 

It rushed up like a wave, pushing, pushing, until she couldn’t hold onto it anymore...

The boy had been stepping closer when suddenly he was pushed violently back, stumbling and losing his footing. He fell onto the corridor floor as everyone started whispering and pointing. 

“Did you see?”

“Billy fell...”

“It must have been her, but she doesn’t have her wand...”

“She doesn’t even have control -”

“Billy deserved it!”

The whispers turned into giggles as Billy scrambled to his feet, face red. 

“Billy what are you doing?” Anne recognized Prissy Andrews, Jane’s older sister and a 4th year Ravenclaw push through the crowd, Jane hovering behind her . 

Anne felt Diana back at her side, tugging at her hand. “Anne, come on,” Diana hissed. Anne let herself be pulled away from the scene. 

“Are you okay?” Diana whispered. Anne could only nod in response.

“That was Billy Andrews- he’s a second year, and Jane’s brother,” Diana explained. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him - he’s always been rude, but never like that.”

It wasn’t until much later, when they all retired to their dorms after supper, that Anne realized Jane would have been there in the Charms corridor after class. 

She must have run to fetch Prissy right away, Anne realized, and she looked across at her third dormmate with new eyes. 

Jane looked up as she felt Anne’s eyes on her. Anne smiled at her, unsure, and Jane gave the tiniest smile in return. 

“Do you think you could help me with the charms homework?” Jane asked quietly. “I didn’t understand what the professor was saying at all. ”

“Of course!” Anne rushed over. “Here, we’ll try it together...”

Diana watched from her bed, smiling. It was a start. 

* * *

First years had Friday afternoons off, and Anne liked to spend them helping Matthew with whatever task he had that day. It was a highlight of her week, hours of time where it was just she and Matthew out in the great outdoors, Matthew listening attentively as Anne rambled on about all the amazing magical things she had learned that week. Matthew was the perfect listener as well as a kindred spirit, and Anne found herself immensely fond of the man. She suspected he was fond of her too, from the way he would occasionally tweak her nose or tug her braids whenever she said something especially smart or funny. 

Anne found herself in dire need of such warm and friendly company today. Only a few days had passed since her incident in the corridor, and while Jane and Prissy Andrews were nicer to her than ever before, all the other students had taken to avoiding her after seeing her magic explode out. Diana, Jane, and the first year Ravenclaw boys Cetus and Musa were the only ones Anne had spoken to since Tuesday. The Slytherin’s in her classes had become downright impossible. 

Anne knew that it was her own fault - she had let her magic go wild, something that no other magical child had an issue with after going to Hogwarts. She had thought she was doing so well, having caught up in all her classes, but it was clearer than ever that she was nowhere near her classmates level. That realization had brought her into a melancholic spirit that only an afternoon with Matthew could dispel. 

“Oh Matthew I’ve had the most dreadful week-” Anne began as she wandered into the greenhouse where they always met. 

Except Matthew wasn’t there. 

Instead, a boy was sitting in Anne’s usual spot, holding a watering can and staring at her. 

“Mr Cuthbert went to find the pruning shears,” The boy offered. “He said he’d be right back. It’s Anne, right?” 

“Who are you?” Anne demanded rudely. 

“My name is Jerry. I’m- I’m in Hufflepuff.” The boy said, sounding unsure about that last bit. “We have Herbology together-”

“Oh. Right.” Anne said, not in the mood to be laughed at by anyone else about her heritage or lack of magical talent. “What are you doing here?” 

“Madam Cuthbert said I could help Mr Cuthbert out today, with his chores,” Jerry said happily. “She’s been really nice, and Mr Cuthbert needs help-”

“Matthew doesn’t need anyone’s help,” Anne snapped. The nerve of this boy. The idea that Marilla had sent him down to help Matthew, when Anne hadn’t spoken to her in nearly two weeks, made Anne’s insides twist painfully. 

“I’m- sorry?” Jerry said. “I, I don’t think I understand-”

“What you don’t understand is that no one wants you here,” Anne rolled her eyes. “You can go. If Matthew needed help he’d ask me. I know what I’m doing. Do you even know how to shear those puffapods?”

“Yes,” Jerry glared, folding his arms. “And I’m not leaving. Madam Cuthbert told me-” 

“Ugh!” Anne let out an enraged scream and stormed from the greenhouse. Matthew, coming up the path with three shears, started. 

“Anne?”

“Have fun with Jerry, ” Anne muttered. “I need to study." She stalked back to the castle. 

Matthew poked his head into the greenhouse, where Jerry just shrugged at him, both males very confused. 

On Monday, Anne recognized Jerry in her history of magic class. He gave her a little wave. 

Anne groaned. 

* * *

Anne wasn’t sure why Hogwarts persisted in calling it the Forbidden Forest when there were so many better names to chose from. Why, Anne would call it the Enchanted Woods, or Forest of the Fae or a dozen different things that were far more romantical! Anne couldn’t fathom why all these witches and wizards were able to perform actual magic with just a wave of their wand, but gave such magical places dull, dreary names. Why, it was like they didn’t possess a single ounce of imagination! 

That was the only explanation for calling places of magnificent wonder plain, boring names like “The Forbidden Forest,” or “The Black Lake.” Anne didn’t understand the justice of that last one at all - the lake wasn’t even black! 

“The Lake of Shining Waters suits it much better,” Anne whispered to herself as she meandered along the forest edge. It was early in the day, but Anne had been so eager to see the forest after last night’s snowfall that she had skipped breakfast to marvel at the newly frosted branches and sparkling icicles. Diana would probably save her a roll to smuggle her in class - this was not the first time this had happened. 

“Though I suppose forbidden isn’t a terrible name,” Anne mused. She lightly trailed a hand along a frosted tree trunk, imagining a beautiful fairy snow queen dancing along the branches. “It gets the point across, and in the right light forbidden can have such a thrilling context. Forbidden romances are always the best kind, with such heartache and longing for what you can never have. There’s a certain sense of daring always involved.” 

She sighed contentedly, gazing up at the grey sky, streaked with light pinks and oranges through the mist. 

“I suppose I must be going back soon," she told the trees. “Marilla will be very cross if she learned I missed classes, even if it is potions first. Thank you for letting me share in your magnificent beauty this morning." She blew a kiss at the trees. 

She hadn’t wandered too far along the forest line - the walk back to the castle would only take her about ten minutes. Anne took her time, letting her thoughts roam free as she walked towards the meeting point of the forest line and the Lake of Shining Waters. 

It was the sound of heavy snow crunching that disrupted the peace and quiet of Anne’s haven. Anne started, looking around. It was quiet again, but the forest felt more eerie now, as if the trees had all seen something dreadful coming. 

“Hello?” Anne called out. “Is someone there?” 

Silence. 

Anne took a step forward. Goosebumps were running up and down her skin, and suddenly she wanted to be in the castle more than anything else. 

She hadn’t taken more than three steps when she heard another noise - almost like barking, but the pitch was all wrong. It didn’t sound like a dog. 

“Come out and show yourself!” Anne demanded, sounding braver than she felt. 

A tree ahead of her moved - no, not the tree, Anne realized. Someone had been hiding behind the tree, and now they were moving towards her. 

She recognized who it was almost immediately. Anne felt herself tense. 

“Billy?” Why was he out here, instead of breakfast? 

“Anne the Muggle,” Billy mocked. “You and me, we’re going to talk.”

“I, I really need to get to class-” Anne said. Billy took another step toward her and Anne reflexively stepped backwards. 

“I’ve heard all about your little act,” Billy said. “Showing off in class, answering all the questions, cheating and pretending that you are actually any good at magic.”

“I, I didn’t cheat off anyone,” Anne whispered. This wasn’t like the corridor incident, Anne realized. Billy’s anger was so much colder as he took another menacing step toward her, and there was no one around, no Diana or Prissy or Jane. The castle was so far away, and they were all alone out here. 

Anne nearly tripped as she took another step backwards. Her bag feel and Billy chuckled. The sound made her want to tremble. 

“When are you going to drop your little act of pretending like you actually belong here?” Billy demanded. “We all know the truth - you’re no witch. You’re dirty little muggle trash, no better than a dog.” 

“I-I” Anne couldn’t speak. She stepped back again and hit a tree. There was nowhere to go, and Billy kept advancing towards her. 

“Shut up, Fido,” Billy snapped. “That name suits you better, actually. After all, you’re nothing more than a dog- you should be called like one.” 

He was only inches away from Anne now. His hand came up, and for the first time Anne saw that he was holding his wand. 

She should scream, she should take out her own wand, she should do anything. But Anne was frozen. It was like Mr Hammond all over again, when he had taken off his belt, and then a moment later was lying on the ground, clutching his chest. 

Anne could hear the screams echoing in her mind. 

“I’m going to teach you a lesson, Fido,” Billy promised, his wand moving in the air. Anne’s brain screamed at her to move-

“Billy? Hey, Billy,” A third voice called out, shattering the nightmare Anne was locked in. 

Billy rounded away from Anne, his wand arm lowering automatically. 

A boy stood in the snowy grounds, staring at them. A tawny owl fluttered above him, hooting softly before taking off for the dormitory. 

“How’s it going?” The boy asked. As he walked closer, Anne could make out the crest and color lining on his robes. Green and silver. A Slytherin. 

He’s Billy’s housemate. For one, awful moment, Anne thought her nightmare had just doubled. 

“Hey Gilbert,” Billy said stiffly. “”You’re up early.”

“Had to send a letter,” The other boy replied. His voice was neutral, and he glanced between Billy and where Anne still stood rooted to the tree. Anne looked away. “Are you guys playing a game or something?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Billy muttered. “We were playing a game.” 

The newcomer looked pointedly at where Billy’s wand was, eyebrow raised. Billy flushed, hastily stowing the wand in his pocket. 

“Sounds fun,” The other slytherin said. “But we should probably get going, classes start soon. Wouldn’t want to be late. You know how strict Professor Allen gets.”

“Yeah - I was just about to get going,” Billy gestured toward the castle. The other boy nodded slowly. 

“See you in class,” Billy muttered. He hefted his bag, giving Anne one last hateful look before stalking off. 

Anne watched him go, holding her breath until Billy was long gone, rounding the bend of the greenhouses and out of sight. 

It seemed to hit her all at once, what just happened, and Anne desperately, desperately wanted Marilla or Diana. 

“Miss? Miss are you alright?” The other Slytherin boy, Gilbert, was still there. He was watching Anne. 

“Class,” Anne said, hastily grabbing her bag. How much time had passed since Billy had cornered her? Potions was the furthest classroom; Anne couldn’t be late. She took off, walking as quickly as she could through the thick snow. 

“You’re welcome!” The Slytherin boy said as she passed him. 

Anne didn’t reply - what could she even say? Her mind was still reeling from Billy’s words, and beneath it all was the dark memory of Mr Hammond, twitching on the ground, Ms Hammond screaming- Anne cut that train of thought off. This was all too much. She just wanted Diana and the comforting distraction of class. 

“Is there anything else? Any dragons that need slaying?” The boy called.

“No! Thank you!” Anne shouted over her shoulder, still struggling to get through the snow. 

“Who are you? Hey, who are you?" She could hear him following her to the castle now, the snow crunching beneath him. Anne ignored him - it was a lot of work trying to get through the snow and she was trying to move as quick as she could. Besides, every other Slytherin so far had been cruel and mean to her- why was this one trying to start a conversation? 

“Uh, Miss? What’s your name? Hello?” 

The snow in front of Anne suddenly cleared away, piling neatly to the side. Anne sped up, half running toward the giant doors of the Entrance Hall. 

“What you can’t tell me your name?” The boy joked, catching up to her easily now that there wasn’t any snow in the way. Anne didn’t say anything, pausing in her rush to look up at the towering entrance doors. 

When are you going to stop pretending you belong here?

Anne was a witch. She would prove that to them all. 

“Here, allow me,” The boy circled her easily, pushing open the Entrance Hall doors enough to let them both slip inside. The warmth of the Castle flooded over Anne immediately, putting her mind at ease. 

“Thank you," she turned to the other boy- Gilbert, Billy had said. It occurred to her then that he must have been the one to charm the snow out of the way. Anne should learn that spell - it would be so useful in the future! “And, sorry," she added, flushing as she recalled how rude her actions had been. “I’m-”

“Anne!” Diana came rushing toward them, her eyes wide as she took in Anne’s snow covered hat, her stockings and shoes drenched from melted snow. “You missed breakfast, I was just about to go looking for you,” Diana gave Gilbert a quizzical look, before tugging Anne away. “Come on, we’re going to be late to potions if we don’t hurry.” 

“Nice meeting you!” Gilbert called after them as Anne and Diana hurried away to the staircases. Anne could only wave distractedly in return. 

“ What, ” Diana whispered as they waited for the staircases to reach the next floor, “was that all about?” 

* * *

“You can’t talk to Gilbert Blythe, you can’t even look at him!” Josie glared down at Anne, as Jane wrapped an arm around a sobbing Ruby. Jane gave Anne a disappointed frown. 

“Ruby’s liked him since September ,” Tillie said, as Ruby let out a wet sniff. “She has dibs!” 

Diana hovered between the group and Anne, looking at her friend anxiously. She had no idea how to smooth this problem over. 

* * *

Gilbert Blythe had been a hatstall - the only one of his year. John Blythe had been a Gryffindor, and the sorting hat had also dwelled on Ravenclaw before Gilbert politely requested to be in Slytherin. Gilbert’s mother had been in Slytherin - it was one of the only things Gilbert knew about her. At eleven years old, Gilbert wanted nothing more than to have a connection to his mother. And if that meant being resourceful, ambitious, and cunning, then so be it. 

The sorting hat had balked, but Gilbert remained firm. Finally, the sorting hat had relented. If Gilbert was stubborn enough to argue with an all knowing hat, it had said with some resentment, than he was stubborn enough to go about doing whatever he needed to achieve his ends. 

A year and a half later, Gilbert thought he made a very good Slytherin. He was charismatic enough to make friends across all the houses, and get along with his housemates (even Billy Andrews), he was the top student in their year, and there was nothing Gilbert had set his mind to that he hadn’t readily achieved. 

Until, it seemed, he met Anne Shirley. 

Gilbert had noticed Anne around the first few weeks of the new term, though he hadn’t known her name. Even without her distinctive red hair, it was impossible to notice a new student among the first through third years. The Wizarding plague that had ravaged Magical Britain for nearly a decade had decimated the population, along with claiming all three of Gilbert’s older siblings. The result was Hogwarts classes that were scarcely half of previous years. In total, the first and second years at Hogwarts currently numbered less than forty. 

Gilbert hadn’t paid too much attention to the new student at first. He was vaguely aware of the whispers everyone was repeating, and something that involved his housemate, Billy, but Gilbert had been preoccupied with trying to decide what extra classes he should take the next year. These classes could easily determine what career options he would have, and Gilbert didn’t take such a thing lightly. The rest of his time was spent trying to persuade his friend Charlie into actually doing his work instead of playing quidditch all the time. How Charlie had ended up in Ravenclaw, Gilbert would never know. 

Things might have continued this way, until the morning Gilbert had left the dorm early to check on his owl, Greyfeather. (Greyfeather had actually previously belonged to one of Gilbert’s siblings, whose sweet and cheerful nature hadn’t lent itself much in the naming department. Still, Gilbert refused to change the name now.) They had been outside, letting Greyfeather spread his wings, when Gilbert caught sight of the unmistakable form of Billy Andrews cornering the redheaded new student at the edge of the forbidden forest. Even from afar, the fear on her face was clear. 

Gilbert had intervened, had found himself chasing this girl halfway back to the castle after all his usual charms failed, desperate suddenly to know her name, and was finally rewarded with it only for her to be torn away by Diana Barry. 

That had been a week ago. Try as he might, Gilbert had been unable to speak to Anne since. 

It was if he had imagined the smile she had given him after he opened the door for her, or the wave goodbye as she dashed off to potions. Any attempt to talk to her was met with open rejection. He would wave at her across the dining tables, and Anne would turn in her seat so as not to see him. He caught up with her once in the corridors and Anne pretended he wasn’t there at all, speaking loudly to Diana. Diana wasn’t any help at all, giving Gilbert a sympathetic shrug before also ignoring him. 

Once, they had run into each other on the stairs, and they both had froze, staring at each other. Gilbert had given her his most winsome smile - and he knew it was his most winsome, Charlie had told him so- and Anne had the nerve to roll her eyes and walk away. 

Gilbert had tried to chase after her, only to find that he had stepped into the infamous trick step. He was forced to wait until a few older Hufflepuffs freed him fifteen minutes later, snickering all the while. 

Gilbert may have dropped the whole thing days ago, but for the fact that everything he learned about Anne made him want to be her friend. And information about Anne, non-existent to him just a week ago, was suddenly everywhere. 

He saw her everywhere, in the hallway, at mealtimes, her face graced with a brilliant smile and her twin red braids swinging as she spoke animatedly to Diana. He overheard the Slytherin first years grumble about the redheaded Ravenclaw being the first to master the spells in class, and Charlie idly commented once about how she stood outside the Ravenclaw common room for nearly an hour, arguing with the eagle door-knocker about the answer to a riddle. 

One night, Headmaster Twycross had put on a show for the students as they ate dinner, casting brilliant lights of every color imaginable into the sky. The lights had flown around the room, dancing between the students and folding into animals. Gilbert had been chuckling at one that had taken the form of a woodpecker and was buzzing around Billy’s face and out of habit glanced at the Ravenclaw table to see Charlie’s reaction. 

Instead, he saw Anne, her eyes sparkling in delight as she watched all the lights dance and spin. She was utterly enraptured by the magic around her. A golden light flew around her head, and Anne giggled. She set out her hand, ignoring Diana’s cautions and the light settled on Anne’s palm. Gilbert watched as it changed into the shape of a fairy, tugging lightly on Anne’s braid. The fairy kissed Anne’s nose and flew upwards, exploding into a shower of sparks. Anne reached out to catch one of the sparks in her hand, eyes shining. 

Gilbert swore that night that he would get her to talk to him again. 

His next chance came when he was in the library, three days later. A quarter of the school was in there- the rain outside made it too miserable, and the professors were assigning were by the load to combat any signs of winter fever. 

Anne was there, at a table with Diana, both of them writing furiously on their scrolls. Most of the other tables were half filled - Gilbert saw some Gryffindor first years with Josie Pye and Jane Andrews at a table near Diana and Anne. He wondered why they weren’t all sitting together - maybe they were working on different homework? 

Gilbert swung his arms back and forth, gathering his nerve. This was his best chance. They were all here, on a day with no classes to interrupt him, and maybe Gilbert could offer to help her and Diana with their homework. That would give an excuse for them to talk. 

Ignoring Charlie and the other second year boys who were trying to wave his attention to their table in the far back corner, Gilbert approached the table. Diana glanced up first and gasped, whispering something to Anne. Gilbert saw her stiffen, but she didn’t look up from her paper. 

Why was she so determined not to talk to him? 

“Excuse me,” Gilbert cleared his throat. “May I sit here?” 

Diana was the only one to look at him. She glanced, wide eyed, between him and Anne, than oddly enough back at the other table of girls huddled together. When it was clear Anne wasn’t going to give Diana any indication, the brunette sighed, nodding. 

“Of course, Gilbert,” Diana gave him a strained smile, her tone making it very obvious it was not alright. 

Gilbert didn’t really care. He was getting Anne to talk to him, and this was the first step. 

“Thank you," he murmured, setting his books down right next to Anne. She jumped slightly, but still didn’t look up. Not wanting to push his luck, he took the seat two away from her. 

He decided to take it slow at first, and pulled out his own homework. Thirty minutes passed in tense silence, broken only occasionally by Diana’s pointed coughing. Still, Anne didn’t even glance in his direction, moving only when she put her essay aside to dry and opened up her textbooks. 

Gilbert had to get her to at least look at him - a friendly smile could maybe get her to see he was just trying to be friendly, and then maybe they could start up an actual conversation. But how to get her to look at him?

Gilbert glanced into his bag for inspiration and his eyes fell on the cauldron cake that was tucked away in the side pocket. It was the last one from the package that his father had sent two weeks ago. 

Well, desperate times, desperate measures, Gilbert decided. Everyone liked sweets, right? 

He picked up a spare bit of parchment and rolled it into a ball. Watching Anne carefully, he flicked it towards her. It landed right in front of her. Across from them, Diana’s eyes snapped up. 

Anne didn’t move. 

Gilbert frowned. Had she missed it somehow? He repeated the action, this time landing the ball of parchment right onto her book. 

Anne’s grip on the book tightened, her knuckles turning white. But still she didn’t turn to see Gilbert. 

Gilbert could feel his frustration mounting. Why couldn’t she just look at him? Maybe she still thought he was teasing. Throwing parchment was something he would do with Charlie, but maybe girl friendships were different. 

Or maybe she was just being stubborn. Fine. Gilbert was a Slytherin that the sorting hat tried to put in Gryffindor - there wasn’t anyone more stubborn than him. He would just keep trying. 

Pulling the cauldron cake out of his bag, Gilbert pushed his books out of the way and slowly slid into the empty seat next to Anne. He could feel Diana watching him but his eyes didn’t leave Anne, who was gripping her textbook as if her life depended on it. 

He reached out cautiously and put the cauldron cake on the table, directly in front of her books. There. She would have to say something now. 

Anne’s eyes darted to the cake, and something in her face tightened. She stared at her book but her eyes weren’t moving, Gilbert noticed. 

She wasn’t even reading, he realized. She was just still ignoring him.

Gilbert felt his frustration begin to boil over. He had done nothing but be friendly to Anne, and her sudden hatred of him made no sense! Was this all because he was in Slytherin with Billy? Had he angered her somehow? Gilbert wanted nothing more in the world to know and he couldn’t until Anne told him. But that wouldn’t happen unless Anne actually bothered to stop ignoring him. 

What right did she even have to be angry at him? Gilbert should be the one who was angry. Anne had rebuffed him for no reason, had avoided him and pretended like he didn’t exist and didn’t have the common decency to say why, and yet she acted as if Gilbert was the problem? When she wouldn’t even look in his direction-

Barely even aware of it, Gilbert reached out and tugged on one of the braids. 

“Hey, Carrots," he whispered, because that would get her attention if nothing else-

“I’m not TALKING TO YOU!”

CRACK. Suddenly they were both standing, Gilbert’s head stinging from Anne’s textbook and her words echoing in the library. Gasps were heard from around the library but Gilbert didn’t bother to look at their audience. Instead he watched Anne, who’s anger turned swiftly to horror as she looked at the book in her hand, then at Gilbert clutching his face. 

She was looking at him. Gilbert felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. 

“You just did," he said, smiling smugly. 

There wasn’t time for anything else before the librarian was upon them both, shouting about improper behavior and threatening to ban them both from the library. Anne was pulled away to go talk to the head of Ravenclaw. Gilbert watched her go with a feeling of triumph and a bit of guilt at goading her into trouble. 

He would have to speak to her again, he supposed, if only to apologize. 

With that in mind, it was difficult to feel bad when his own head of house lectured him later. 

* *  * 

March had never been a particularly glamorous month for Anne. The weather turned a  bitter type of cold, with less snow and more harsh winds, which even the biggest scope of imagination would have difficulty turning romantical. In addition, every March at the asylum had brought with it the stinging reminder that Anne was another year older and still stuck there. 

Anne had thought that this year would be different. Matthew had told her that in March she could help him repot the Mandrakes, and he would take her to see the baby hippogriffs when they were  born. Anne had been dreaming about it for months, trying to picture what a baby eagle-horse hybrid would look like, all downy fluff and coltish legs. 

When the day came, a particularly cold Friday, Anne had rushed down to meet Matthew by the greenhouses as soon as the dinner hour was over. First years had Friday afternoons free, and Matthew had sent her a letter that morning inviting her along. Anne had been so excited by the prospect of getting an actual letter at breakfast (Anne had never received mail before, and it was so delightful to see her name printed on an envelope!) that she had almost ruined the note by upsetting her juice. 

Anne’s spirits were doured slightly when she saw another first year waiting at the appointed spot. 

“Oh. It’s you again,” Anne said shortly. 

“Hello Anne,” Jerry greeted. The short little Hufflepuff had made a point of saying hello to Anne whenever he saw her, despite Anne’s very clear irritation. 

“What are you doing here?” Anne sniffed. 

“Mr Cuthbert sent me a letter this morning,” Jerry said cheerfully, playing with his yellow and black scarf. “He thought I would want to see the baby Hippogriffs.” 

Anne let out a heavy sigh. Why Matthew insisted on involving Jerry in all of their time together lately, Anne couldn’t figure out. It seemed like every time she saw Matthew or Marilla at Hogwarts recently, Jerry was also around. 

Anne knew that Matthew and Marilla were her guardians in name only, and Marilla as head of Hufflepuff house had to interact with the other students. But it was still vexing to see them both dote on this random boy so much. Anne had classes with Jerry - he wasn’t even that interesting! 

“Are you going to hit me?” Jerry asked suddenly. 

“I- what?!” Anne was shocked. “Why would I hit you? Just because you’re annoying-”

Jerry shrugged. “The other Hufflepuffs were saying you hit that other boy when he annoyed you.” 

Anne very nearly screamed from frustration. Why were all boys so annoying? 

“That was different,” Anne said through gritted teeth. “The reason I hit Gil- hit that boy was because he was being impossibly rude and said something unforgivable.”

“What did he say?” 

“None of your business!” Anne huffed. “Don’t you have anyone else to bother? Why can’t you go play gobstones with the other Hufflepuff boys?” 

“They don’t talk to me much,” Jerry said simply. He didn’t sound bothered by it, but Anne saw the way his hands twisted his scarf harder. “I think I make them uncomfortable.” 

“Why would you make them uncomfortable?” Anne asked. Her previous annoyance vanished as she took another look at Jerry. Now that she thought about it, had she ever seen him talk to any of the other Hufflepuffs in class? 

“I- I think it’s because I’m different, ” Jerry shrugged. “They’re all from wizarding families, I guess, so we don’t have much in common.”

“Your parents aren’t wizards?” Anne didn’t know why that was so surprising to her - Marilla had talked about muggleborns. Anne herself was a muggleborn, as far as they could tell. But Anne had assumed without really thinking about it that she was the only one - everyone else she spoke too had wizarding families. 

“No,” Jerry said, his voice sharp. He was looking at her angrily now, as if daring her to keep talking. Anne didn’t think angry suited Jerry very well, she was used to him teasing instead. 

“Mine either,” Anne blurted out. “At least, I don’t think so. No one knows for sure, I grew up in a muggle orphanage, see, so I never knew any of this existed or who my parents were or that I had magic until December," she was rambling, which always made Marilla and her professors sigh with exasperation, but Jerry was just listening wide-eyed. 

“You are from the muggle world too?" He asked. “But that is so great! No one else I speak to knows anything about the muggle world. Some of the older Hufflepuffs are muggleborns but they don’t want to talk to first years. I had to keep asking Madam Cuthbert to explain everything. I think she got tired of it -that’s when she told me to help out Mr Cuthbert.”

Something in Anne’s brain clicked then. She couldn’t quite put words to just what she now understood at an instinctive level, but Jerry no longer seemed like an intruder to her time with Matthew. 

“I doubt Marilla, I mean, Madam Cuthbert was tired of it,” Anne said. “She always knows what she’s doing.” 

“Do you really live with them?” Jerry questioned. 

“Sort of - I stayed with them over Christmas before I started at Hogwarts,” Anne explained. “So I expect I’ll stay with them over the summer too. But I only live with them when Hogwarts is closed. That’s why they adopted me, to attend Hogwarts. It’s not like I’m related to them or anything. Matthew!” Anne saw the older man only when he was right next to the two. She and Jerry had been so engrossed in conversation, they hadn’t seen him coming. He was giving them both an odd look, brow furrowed. 

“Hello Mr Cuthbert,” Jerry said politely, as Anne gave her usual enthusiastic hug. 

“Oh just, just Matthew’s fine,” Matthew said. “Sorry to keep you both waiting, but you’re in for a good treat I expect.” 

“We really get to see them?” Anne and Jerry shared a delighted grin when Matthew nodded. Matthew chuckled at their excitement, tugging lightly on Anne’s braid. “Now come on, quick before anyone else sees and wants to come too." He whispered conspiratorially, and the two children nodded solemnly. They followed Matthew back toward the Hippogriff pasture, whispering excitedly. 

“I bet none of the other students have seen this, even if they are from wizarding families,” Anne told Jerry. 

“Are you going to tell any of them about it?”

Anne considered the question. It wasn’t like many of them spoke to her- after the library incident, Jane had kept to Ruby and Tilly’s company. 

“Maybe Diana," she said thoughtfully. “She likes hippogriffs. I think one of her cousins’ breeds them.”

“Like, a job?” Jerry scrunched his nose. “What even are wizard jobs? All the ones my housemates described sound so weird. Muggle jobs make sense, like farming or police. Moody just says his dad’s an obliviator. What does that even mean?”  

Anne had never heard of that either. “Obliviate means to destroy, to make into nothing," she whispered. Jerry’s eyes grew wide. 

“ What does he make into nothing?” Anne just shrugged. 

“That’s spooky,” Jerry muttered. “I wouldn’t want to be called something like that. I always thought I’d be a butcher like my dad.”

“Butcher isn’t a much better word than obliviate,” Anne pointed out. “Do wizards even have butchers?”

“We have meat,” Jerry frowned. “We had it at dinner.” 

“I guess you could be a wizard butcher,” Anne suggested. 

“What would the difference even be? I could be a muggle butcher without even having to go to Hogwarts,” Jerry complained. 

“But isn’t that the beauty of it?” Anne said, warming up to the subject. “Just think of it Jerry - we can do whatever we want, be whatever we want! You can be a muggle butcher, or a magical butcher, or something else entirely! We get to be in both worlds. We have twice the possibilities!”

Jerry wasn’t as enamoured by this idea as Anne was; the notion that he now had twice as many choices to make felt overwhelming. Still, no one else had ever talked about being muggleborn or the muggle world as if it was a good thing before. Jerry liked the way Anne viewed things - they weren’t behind in the magical world, they were just part of two whole worlds instead. 

“I could be a herbologist,” Jerry said. “Or a farmer.” 

“Exactly!” Anne exclaimed. “Oh, I wonder what I could be...maybe a nurse! Or an explorer!” 

“I could train the delivery owls,” Jerry was warming to the game.

“A sailor - no, a pirate!” 

“Or a wandmaker, like Ollivander.”

“Maybe we could work here, like Marilla or Matthew.” 

“Or in Diagon Alley, as a shopkeeper,” Jerry thought it would be fun to work there, everything looked so spectacular, a new wonder behind each door. 

“Maybe I’ll be Minister of Magic,” Anne’s eyes brightened. “I’d pass a law that no one would have to take potions ever again.”

“I don’t think that would be a popular law,” Jerry said. “The nurse at Hogwarts uses a lot of Hogwarts.”

“Fine.” Anne sighed. “But I’d make it optional.” 

She looked so angered by the idea of potions that Jerry couldn’t help but laugh. Anne joined in, giggling. Soon, the air was filled with the sound of them laughing gaily. Matthew looked back at them, startled. His look of confusion melted into a fond smile at the two of them getting along. 

Anne and Jerry quieted their laughter as they approached the hippogriff pasture. Slowly, Matthew led them to the gate, motioning for them to stay there. They watched as he bowed to a hippogriff mother, stroking her beak. Anne could see his mouth moving, but he was speaking too quietly to hear. 

“Thanks, by the way,” Anne whispered to Jerry as they hung onto the fence. “For not saying I can’t do any of those jobs because I’m a girl.”

Jerry shrugged. “You could do them. My da says that’s all that matters - that you get the job done.” Anne smiled a little at that. 

“Thanks for saying I could do any of those jobs because I’m muggleborn,” Jerry added, a little shy. 

“We’re both muggleborns,” Anne said with determination, leaning into Jerry. “In all the ways that it counts, at least. Why shouldn’t we do anything we put our minds to?” 

Jerry grinned at her, nudging her to look back at Matthew when he saw the older man wave at them. 

As they watched, the hippogriff mother raised her left wing a little, and two little hippogriffs stumbled out from beneath. They were wobbly but one managed to take a few steps forward, sniffing at the treat Matthew held out.

“Oh,” Anne gasped. “Jerry look. They’re utterly adorable. Have you ever seen a creature more precious?” 

Jerry didn’t think he had. Their heads and wings were covered in fuzz, and their coats were a light roan color. The smaller one turned its head, and stared at them with wide brown eyes. 

“Maybe you could raise hippogriffs,” Anne suggested as they watched the colts begin to prance a bit, growing more bold. “You’d be good at it.”

“So would you,” Jerry replied, and was rewarded with a smile. 

***

“Uh, Marilla?” Matthew asked that night over supper. “Anne’s - Anne’s coming here over the Easter holidays isn’t she?”

“Oh- well,” Marilla blinked. Truthfully she hadn’t really thought about the Easter holidays at all, but it was coming up soon. “I expect so, of course. It wouldn’t make much sense for her to stay in the castle, and the poor girl would probably like a break. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t think she knows. That’s she’s welcome here, is all,” Matthew picked at his bread. “Something she was saying earlier.”

“Oh,” Marilla hadn’t thought she would need to make it clear to Anne that she could come back for the holidays. Anne spent so much time with Matthew, surely it was obvious? 

“Well, I suppose I’ll just have to tell her myself,” Marilla decided, spooning more potatoes onto her plate. “I have to go up to the castle tomorrow anyway for career advisement, and clear the whole matter up.”

When she looked over, Matthew was smiling more widely then she had seen in years. 

***

On Tuesday, for the first time, when Jerry waved at Anne in History of Magic, she waved back. 

“Come sit with us," she mouthed exaggeratedly, pointing to the empty seat next to her and Diana.

Jerry nodded eagerly, nearly spilling his things across the table when he sat down. 

“Jerry, this is my dearest friend Diana,” Anne said happily, as Diana nodded politely. “Diana, this is my friend Jerry. He’s a little annoying but he’s really good with hippogriffs.” 

“Anne!” Diana’s eyes widened at her insult but Jerry just shook his head, smirking. 

“It’s ok, she’s annoying too,” Jerry said cheerfully. 

***

Late one night, Anne was jolted out of sleep by a shrill alarm. 

“What’s going on?" She heard Jane Andrews ask sleepily, but Anne was already running out the door. Other Ravenclaws were spilling into the common room, everyone shouting over each other with questions. The other first years caught up to Anne, Musa and Cetus still half asleep as Jane and Diana clutched their dressing gowns closed. Diana handed Anne hers. 

Finally, the seventh year prefect stood, shouting over all of them. 

“Gryffindor Tower has caught fire," she announced, and a new flurry of gasps and whispers broke out. “We’re to evacuate this tower immediately, in case it spreads- find your dormmates and stay together," she instructed. “Do not wander off! Follow me!” 

Whispers ran rampant as the Ravenclaws clustered behind her, filing quickly down the tower stairs. 

The fire was in full blaze by the time they reached the landing outside Gryffindor tower, orange flames lighting up the night sky in the windows outside. Most of the school was gathered there, watching the fire fighting efforts through the hallway windows and over half of the upper level boys were pulled from the crowd to help fight the fire. 

“Can’t the professors just put the fire out?” Cetus asked one of the second years, Charlie Sloane. 

“One of the fifth years said it was fiendfyre,” Charlie said. “One of the seventh years must have been messing around. A simple augementi won’t do. Half the teachers are up there now, trying to control it”

“What’s fiendfyre?” Anne asked, straining her eyes to see the common room better. She couldn’t see anything but the flames and smoke. 

“It’s a magical fire,” Charlie explained, giving her a strange look. “It grows fast, and almost impossible to put out when it’s this strong, even with the strongest extinguishing spell. It just keeps burning until it dies out on its own.” 

“Anne!” Marilla appeared from the crowd. Jerry was trailing behind her. 

“Marilla,” Anne said, hugging her. 

“Matthew’s helping with the fire,” Jerry told her, looking up at the common room nervously. Anne followed his gaze, worry gripping her heart.

Outside, Headmaster Twycroft cast his wand, a powerful jet of water breaking into the fire. For a moment, the flames quieted, giving Anne a better view inside the emblazed tower. But just as quickly the fire flared back up.

“More water!” A professor yelled, and more male students were called to join the rescue crowd, as the female prefects checked over the evacuated Gryffindors.

“Why are all the windows open?”  Anne whispered. She watched, waiting for someone else to point this out. But nothing was happening.

Charlie had said the fire needed to burn itself out.

“Anne? Anne!" She heard Diana cry out as Anne surged forward, pushing through the crowd. Everyone else was distracted watching the rescue efforts outside as Anne ran up the stairs toward the entrance to Gryffindor tower.

Anne tore at her dressing gown sleeve as she ran, holding the ripped piece of cloth over her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she slipped behind the portrait of the pink woman, ignoring her shouts.

The Gryffindor Common room was completely ablaze. Through the smoke, Anne could make out red and gold décor. The orange flames almost matched.

Anne thanked all the stars in the universe that the layout to the Gryffindor tower was almost identical to Ravenclaw. She was able to find the windows easily, pulling them shut. Outside, she could see the students and professors flying around, balanced precariously on brooms as they cast water out of their wands at the burning roof.

Anne hunched over as she found the girls’ staircase. Almost all of the dorm doors had been left open as the students had rushed to flee the tower.Anne rushed as much as she could, methodically starting closing each door and open window as she worked her way up.

A professor caught sight of her through one window, mouth hanging open in surprise.

“Close the windows!” Anne tried to yell, coughing from the smoke. But the professor didn’t appear to hear her, and she had to keep going.

She was lagging a little as she made her way up the boy’s staircase. The smoke was getting to her, she knew. Anne held the rag tighter to her mouth.

She was on the sixth floor when she was spotted again. Anne could barely see through the flames in that room, but she heard someone shout her name as she slammed the door shut.

One more floor to go.

Anne could already see the results of her work as she picked her way back through the common room. The flames weren’t as high, and the smoke was less thick.

She could hear the shouts outside, the professors and students rallying as they saw the fire dying down.

Coughing, Anne hit the portrait door faintly. It swung open, the woman still scolding Anne as she stumbled out, clutching at the stair railing.

“Anne!” Jerry and Diana grabbed her, holding her up.

“Anne what were you thinking ?” Marilla cried, hovering over her.

“It worked,” Anne gasped in explanation. “Right? The fire is going out?”

The shouting of the men outside answered her question.

“Anne what in heavens possessed you to run into a blazing fire?” Marilla demanded.

“Fire needs – air- to breath,” Anne heaved. “Oxygen. Even magical fire. You close all the windows and door, you cut off its air.”

“Well Merlin above,” Marilla exclaimed, as Diana hugged Anne fiercely and Jerry turned to the crowd of students and teachers below, bellowing that it was Anne who stopped the fire. “How on earth did you know that?” Marilla asked her.

“It’s how Muggles put out fires,” Anne explained. “It was in the fire safety manual at the orphanage.”

Marilla blinked in surprise, processing this information, as the nurse, Madam Edgecomb pulled Anne away from Diana, inspecting her for any damage.

It took another hour the fire to be put out, and dawn was breaking over the Forbidden forest as everyone gathered out on the lawn, waiting for the students and professors to come down.

Marilla had finally released her iron grip on Anne, who had had a warming charm cast on her, and left to help the other heads of houses sort everything out. Jerry and Diana stayed flanked her sides, buffering her from the rest of the students.

“Maybe you can be a firefighter,” Jerry whispered to Anne, and they both grinned at the inside joke.

“The Gryffindors will have to be farmed out to the other dorms until we can get the tower fixed on Friday,” Professor Allen announced. “Let’s see…the first year girls can go to Ravenclaw, they have a small number-“

“What?” Ruby squeaked from nearby, and she and Tilly both cast pale faces at where Diana and Anne were standing. The warm, triumphant feeling Anne had been feeling dimmed a little.

Jerry rolled his eyes, but it was Diana who stepped forward and stared both girls down.

“Anne was the one who stopped the fire from destroying the tower completely,” Diana reminded them. “You could have lost everything if she hadn’t acted – or the fire may have spread to the whole castle. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks. We all should think for ourselves. And I think Anne is the most magnificent friend anyone could have.” Diana grabbed at Anne’s hand, and Anne flushed red at her praise.

Jane joined the little group, pointedly standing next to Anne. Anne saw two more students step up behind her from the corner of her eyes. Twisting her head back, she saw Musa and Cetus, armed folded as they both stared at Ruby and Tilly.

Ruby and Tilly looked a little ashamed. Tilly wrung her hands, glancing back at where Josie was standing, but Ruby started sniffling, tears falling from her face.

“Thank you Anne!” Ruby shouted suddenly, tackling the redhead into a hug. Anne was nearly knocked over in surprise. “I’m so so sorry,”

“We both are-“ Tilly nodded eagerly. “Oh Ruby, stop crying, you’re going to get Anne’s clothes all wet.” At this, Ruby just started crying harder.

“I think we all need to get some rest,” Diana said sensibly. “They’re cancelling classes for the day, let’s head back to the tower and sleep.”

That was the best idea Anne had ever heard.

“What your password?” Tilly asked as they headed up the lawn, Ruby’s sniffling subsiding.

“Oh, we don’t have a password,” Musa said. “You answer a riddle to get into the castle.”

“We have to what ?” 

***

“Anne no! ” Ruby stopped her friend just in time, reaching out to pull back on her arm. “You’re about to walk into the trick step!”

“Oh I am sorry Ruby!” Anne looked at her sheepishly. “It’s just I am so caught up in this book, it’s the most delectable tale, all about a truly wicked miscreant of a wizard, who the one of the mastermind behind the fourth goblin rebellion. His prejudice led to an era of terror that resulted in years of animosity! But a heroic group figured him out, and worked to negotiate with both sides. It’s like an actual adventure tale, but even better because every single bit of it is true!”

“Oh Anne,” Ruby laughed a little, guiding her away from the trick step. “I swear, I never know half of what you’re saying-“

  *** 

The Easter holidays were a welcome break for everyone when they arrived. Only a few weeks had passed since the fire, and everyone was eager to return home and blow off steam before exam season settled in on them.

The professors seemed to share this desire, as the first years had hardly any workload to do over the break. Anne walked down to Hogsmeade alongside Diana, her heart lighter than air as the two girls daydreamed about their upcoming days of freedom.

“Oh Matthew,” Anne gushed as she helped him in the barn later that night. “It’s so wonderfully strange to be back at Green Gables. So much has happened since I was last here. Starting school, learning magic, making so many wonderful friends,” Anne sighed. “I really do think an angel must have smiled on me Matthew, for my life to have become so full of blessings. And all because you and Marilla agreed to take me in – I couldn’t repay you if I had all the galleons in the world.”

“No need for payment,” Matthew said. “We’re happy to have you about the place, I reckon. Makes it feel warmer.”

Anne’s face had glowed, eyes shining at him, and without another word she wrapped him tightly in a hug.

They stayed like that for a moment, before Anne broke the silence.

“Do you think Marilla will help me make my robes puffier at the sleeves? All the other girls have them-“

Matthew chuckled. “I suppose it can’t hurt to ask.”

Marilla, it turned out, did not approve, and she scolded Matthew when he laughed at her.

By the third day, Anne’s desire for puffed robes was eclipsed by events so sorrowful Anne didn’t think she could ever recover.

Marilla, kind, gracious Marilla, in an effort to get Anne’s mind off of silly fashion trends had suggested Anne invite Diana for tea that afternoon while Marilla visited with Rachel Lynde.

Anne had been exuberant at the idea, laying out a masterful table and using their best china to serve tea, biscuits. The highlight had been when Marilla told Anne that she may use some of the cordial to pair with the treats.

The girls had whiled the afternoon away, pretending to be high born ladies as they sipped at their tea and giggled over all the silly things they had heard Ruby gush about. So caught up in their own world, Anne didn’t realize how much of the cordial was disappearing.

It all fell to ruin when Ms. Barry came to check on Diana, and found the girls lying on the floor in fits of laughter, unable to stand. She had flooed Marilla instantly, enraged.

Marilla pieced together what happened quickly, but Ms. Barry was not to be placated by the fact that it was a simple mistake.

“She got my daughter drunk !” Ms Barry had snapped. “I will not allow my Diana to be friends with her any longer! They are forbidden from speaking!" She dragged Diana from the house, as Anne ran to her room, sobbing.

The rest of the holidays passed dully. Anne kept to her room, trying to stay out of the way and away from trouble as much as possible, worried another mistake would result in the Cuthbert’s deciding she couldn’t stay with them after all, and sending her back to the asylum after the year finished.

She missed Diana terribly, and even the idea of Hogwarts couldn’t cheer her up as the return date loomed closer. She couldn’t bear the idea of returning to school and not being allowed to talk to Diana. They shared a room! How was Anne to bear it?

Marilla and Matthew dithered, unsure what to do about their young charge. Marilla’s efforts at practical comfort were just met with more tears, and Matthew had no idea how to make it better. Nothing could coax the girl out of her room except meals and chores.

It was with much trepidation that they left the house two nights before the holidays ended. The minister of magic was giving a speech at a town only a few hours ahead, and most of the adults in Hogsmeade were taking a portkey to go see him.

“Are you sure you’ll be ok here by yourself?” Marilla asked for a third time. “Oh, maybe we shouldn’t go Matthew-“

“Marilla, I’ll be fine,” Anne assured her. “The Lyndes’ are waiting for you.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Marilla sighed. “We’ll be back quite late, but your dinner is ready. It just needs to be warmed up. But don’t use your wand, and be careful with the fire.“

“I won’t use any magic, and I won’t burn the house down,” Anne promised. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning," she waved them off, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Anne spent the afternoon reading some old textbooks Matthew had given her. They were for second years, but Anne had already finished all of her homework, and the charms at the second year were so fascinating. Anne couldn’t wait till she was back at Hogwarts and could use magic again so she could try them.

A sudden pounding on the door caused Anne to drop her book.

“Hello? Anne? Madam Cuthbert? Anyone!” Someone was frantically yelling and Anne rushed to open the door.

Diana stood there in her dressing gown, her hair a mess and tears staining her cheeks.

“Diana, what’s wrong?” Anne gaped at her friend.

“Are the Cuthberts here?” Diana pleaded.

“No they went with everyone to the minister’s speech,” Anne started, and Diana wailed.

“Oh no no no...everyone went to that stupid speech!” Diana sobbed, and Anne grabbed her arms, desperate to help.

“Diana, what is wrong?” Anne said slowly.

“Minnie May is sick!” Diana cried. “She won’t stop coughing, and she can’t breathe, and I don’t know what to do! Mother doesn’t keep any healing potions and they took the whole floo system off-line because of the speech!”

“She’s having trouble breathing?” Anne asked, thoughts racing. “Diana how long as it been?”

“I don’t know- an hour maybe?” Diana said.

“It’s croup,’ Anne said. “Oh, Diana, I know what to do but we need to hurry!”

Diana snatched Anne’s hand and they flew through the woods towards the Barry house.

They arrived in time. Anne took one look at Minnie May and ordered Diana to heat up water over the fire.

“We need steam, to help her throat," she explained, throwing open the window. “It will lessen the phlegm and stop the coughing.”

“What in Merlin’s name  is going on here?” An older woman strode into the kitchen, watching aghast as Anne felt Minnie May’s forehead and lifted her to the open window. “Young lady put my niece down this minute, before you kill her!”

“Aunt Jo stop!” Diana cried. “Anne’s helping!”

“Helping? It’s freezing out!” The old woman sniffed.

“Exactly. Cold air is a doctor’s best friend when it comes to coup,” Anne declared. “Are you a witch?”

“Excuse me?” Aunt Jo spluttered.

“Are you a witch?” Anne repeated. “Sorry, don’t mean to be rude, but we need this water to heat up, enough for steam, and if you can do it with magic it will be faster.”

 “You are not a doctor, and even if you were we are not muggles-“ Aunt Jo was building into a tirade but Anne cut her off.

“I know what I am doing,” Anne said, with a twinge of annoyance. Honestly, muggles dealt with the coup all the time! “Now please, heat up the water! Minnie May needs it!”

Aunt Jo frowned in disapproval but she waved her wand over the bucket. Instantly, steam began to rise. Anne let out a heavy breath.

“Perfect," she grabbed the bucket and began to lug it over to where Diana was holding Minnie May out the window. The steam wafted over Minnie May as Anne dabbed at her forehead with a cloth.

“It will be okay Minnie May,” Anne whispered tenderly. “Can you see the moon? Isn’t it beautiful?”

Minnie May squirmed to look up, her body still racking with coughs.

“Your potions cupboard didn’t have any peppermint or eucalyptus,” Anne told Diana. “Else I could make a plaster- do you have onions?”

At Diana’s nod Anne sprang up again, dashing past Aunt Jo and into the kitchen. She returned seconds later, onions in hand.

“I suppose I’ll just keep working on this blasted floo network,” Aunt Jo sniffed, standing by the fireplace with her wand out. “Better get an actual healer here. Shutting the whole floo system down, who ever heard of such a thing? I do hate small town officials-“

“That would actually be helpful, please do that,” Anne told her. “These will help keep the coughing at bay but she’ll need a doctor eventually.”

“A healer, child,” Aunt Jo corrected, but Anne wasn’t listening.

“Can’t you apparate for one?” Anne asked, suddenly remembering how Marilla was able to do that sometimes, close her eyes and vanish with a crack.

“I am afraid I am too old to be apparating,” Aunt Jo sniffed haughtily. “I’m more likely to splinch myself then actually get where I am going.”

“Floo network it is,” Anne muttered, cutting the onion in half and ripping Minnie May’s socks off.

“What’s the onion for?” Diana asked, smoothing Minnie May’s hair down. “Onions don’t have any magical properties in potions class.”

“Rubbing raw onions on the soles of feet helps with fevers,” Anne explained. “One of the Hammond’s nurse friends taught it to me when the whole family got set with coup. Not pretty when its three sets of twins.”

“You were in service to muggles?” Aunt Jo asked as she cast a spell at the fireplace.

“I was brought up in a muggle orphanage. I was in service until I came to Hogwarts,” Anne felt at Minnie May’s forehead. “We need more wood on the fire.”

Anne jumped up to grab kindling.

 “And the Cuthberts adopted you?” Aunt Jo looked perplexed.

“Only so I could go to Hogwarts,” Anne said. “It was the Headmaster’s idea.”

“How extraordinary, “ Aunt Jo muttered.

 “Anne!” Diana cried out, panicked as Minnie May began to choke.

“Get her to the table, hurry!” Anne ordered, clearing a spot. She bent Minnie May over the edge and began to drum on her back.

 “Cough Minnie May, cough!” Anne yelled. Aunt Jo stopped working on bypassing the network, fear seizing her as Minnie May struggled to breath. Diana held fast to her sister’s ankles, fighting back tears.

 “Cough!”

“She’s slipping!” Diana yelled, and Aunt Jo hurried forward to help her as Anne ducked under the table. She held a cloth to Minnie May and hoped with all her might.

 Finally, Minnie May coughed. All three witches sighed with relief as she began to breathe more easily.

“That should be the worst of it,” Anne said, glancing at Aunt Jo. “But she’ll still need a healer.”

“Well then,” Aunt Jo straightened, eyeing the fireplace with a determined gleam. “I best get to work on dismantling that floo network.”

 It took the better part of an hour before Aunt Jo succeeded, her wand sparking as she cast spell after spell as Anne and Diana tended to Minnie May. Finally, finally, Aunt Jo was able to call St Mungos, and a healer flooed to the house, armed with potions.

Once the worst of the danger had passed, and Minnie May was sleeping peacefully the healer had begun to question Anne extensively.

 “And you learned all of this from muggle doctors?” The healer kept asking, amazed.

“Yes,” Anne stifled a yawn.

 “That’s quite enough,” Aunt Jo interrupted. “I believe all three of these girls need rest, sir. You can talk to Anne in the morning. Up to be, all of you.”

Anne protested, saying Matthew and Marilla would be worried, but Aunt Jo hushed her. “I’ll send a note to them. Now, to bed with you!”

When Anne awoke, hours later, Mrs. Barry was at the bedside, tears in her eyes.

“Oh Anne,” Mrs. Barry whispered, wrapping her into a fierce hug. “Dear, sweet, wonderful Anne. Thank you so much, for saving my little girl. I owe you such an apology- there is no one better for my Diana to be friends with, I am so sorry,”

Next to her, Diana squeezed her hand tightly, and Anne let herself melt into the hug, too delighted for words.

She wondered, in that moment, if this is how a mother’s hug always felt, so full of love.

But when she returned to Green Gable’s later that afternoon, Marilla’s hug, while quick was even warmer, and Anne felt more safe then she had in years.

*** 

“Very good Anne,” Professor Luewllyn praised her after defense against the dark arts class one day. “This was one of the best essays I have ever seen by a first year – and you picked up today’s spell so quickly too! Probably the second fastest I’ve ever seen a student learn this spell,” the professor mused.

Anne felt like she may float away in happiness at her professor’s words.

“Who was the other student?” Perhaps this could be another kindred spirit?

“He’s in the second year now, a Slytherin,” Professor Luewllyn said. “Gilbert Blythe.”

 All Anne’s happiness vanished.

“Oh," she said flatly.

***

 At her charm’s professor encouragement, Anne joined the charms club at one of their meetings, Diana in tow. Ruby and Jerry had both claimed to be busy with homework.

 The club was mostly Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, with  some upperclass Hufflepuffs and a few Slytherin’s in the mix. Charlie Sloan was there, as was, to Anne’s immense displeasure, Gilbert Blythe. He waved when he saw her, but Anne just glared and turned away. She would not be convinced to warm up to him, not after he called her carrots, and especially not now that Ruby was finally her friend.

“Now, the spell we’re learning today is a bit difficult,” Prissy Andrews was telling them. “You move your wand like so-" she showed them, walking them through the spell.

 Anne copied her movement perfectly, feeling the familiar warm whoosh of magic rising and the cushion came flying into her hand.

“Oh splendid!” Prissy gasped. “You both got it on your first try!" She smiled proudly at Anne.

Anne turned to see who else had mastered the spell. Gilbert Blythe was beaming at her, a matching cushion in his hand.

Ugh.

***

“Hello, Anne, Diana” Gilbert greeted hopefully in the library one afternoon.

“Hello Gilbert,” Diana responded politely, shooting Anne a look when she didn’t respond. Anne just ignored the look.

 Gilbert glanced down at Anne’s potions essay.

“Uh, you forgot nettles,” Gilbert said. “That potion won’t work without them.”

Anne froze, rereading her essay.

 “That’s a tricky potion though,” Gilbert added quickly. “I had trouble with it too. I used a mnemonic device to help me remember the order of the ingredients-“

“Diana will you please tell Gilbert I don’t need his help,” Anne ground out. Diana let out a heavy sigh.

“Why not just tell me yourself?” Gilbert asked affably. “I’m right here.”

Anne huffed in exasperation, and shoved her books into her bag. “I’m studying in the common room," she told Diana, storming off.

 Gilbert sighed.

*** 

“Matthew?” Marilla peered at her brother one evening, noticing how pale he was. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine," he waved her off. “Just hot out.”

Marilla wasn’t so easily reassured. Matthew had been moving more slowly lately and she had heard him coughing late at night.

"Perhaps you ought to take tomorrow off," she fretted, but Matthew wouldn’t hear of it.

“Too much to do," he said, “I’ll be fine after a good night’s rest.”

Marilla let the matter drop, but resolved to badger him to go see Madame Edgecomb the next afternoon.

But then she was called up to the castle in the morning to see about two Hufflepuffs that had gotten caught skipping class, and by the time she returned in the afternoon, irritated and fed up with teenagers, she had quite forgotten.

  ***

Jerry winced as he got his more recent essay back from Professor Binns. He had thought this essay was better than his previous ones, but the grade in the corner proved him wrong.

“Jerry?” Anne was watching him, concerned. “Everyone else has left. Are you ok?”

 “I’m going to fail,” Jerry muttered. “Why do we even need History of Magic anyway?”

 “Those who don’t study history are doomed to repeat it,” Anne recited solemnly, and Jerry couldn’t help but feel annoyed. Did Anne always have to be so smart all the time?

  “And you’re not going to fail,” Anne said.

“Oh really?” Jerry demanded, flipping his paper over in a pique of anger. He regretted it immediately – Anne was one of the smartest people he knew. The smartest in their grade. He didn’t want her to see how stupid he was. He watched Anne’s mouth drop open at his paper, and shame rose up.

“But – Jerry, I don’t understand,” Anne said, and the confusion in her voice stung. “We talked about this before doing the essay – you knew it all! What happened?”

“What always happens!” Jerry cried. “I’m fine talking about it, or when the professor is talking about it. But when we have to read or write about it I can’t do anything!”

“What do you mean?” Anne asked.

Jerry flushed. He didn’t want to explain it to her- Anne wouldn’t understand. Anne learned so quickly, and she read and wrote like the rest of them breathed. She’d never look at him the same way.

“I don’t want to talk about it," he said shortly.

“Oh Jerry,” Anne said in exasperation. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong!” “I don’t need your help!" He snapped, and Anne’s eyes widened in shock.

Great.

Now he had made one of his only friends sad. Jerry groaned.

“Jerry-“ Anne said softly. “If you won’t talk to me, talk to Marilla. She can help-“

“No!” Jerry cut her off. “No, no, Anne, Marilla can’t know about this! None of the teachers can know, or they won’t let me stay-“

“Jerry what are you talking about ?” Anne demanded. “Someone needs to help, or you’ll fail the year anyway!”

“Anne please!” Jerry begged, feeling his eyes start to sting. “They never knew about it, I’ve gotten away all year with it. They won’t let me stay if they found out, they always assumed-" he cut himself off.

“Assumed…what?” Anne’s voice was very soft.

“That I could read,” Jerry said softly. There they were, the damning words.

Silence. Jerry waited for Anne to leave, or to scoff and tell him he was wasting time in a school if he couldn’t read.

"What are you talking about?” Anne said instead. “I’ve seen you read!”

“I can read a little,” Jerry explained. “My mom taught us all as much as she knew – the alphabet and basic words and our names. But I never went to school before Hogwarts. And then I came here and there were all these books and essays to write, and I have to sound everything out just to figure out what it’s saying, and it takes so long- “

“Oh Jerry," he heard Anne sigh and then her arms were around him.

“What – what are you doing?” Jerry asked, confused.

“I’m hugging you,” Anne told him. “Oh Jerry, I am so sorry, I wish I had known before.”

“I can help you,” Anne said, still hugging him. “I remember everything they taught us at the asylum, and we can do a little bit each day before we work on our homework together. You’ll be ready by exams. Until then, when you do your essays you  can dictate and I’ll write-“

“Wait, wait,” Jerry interrupted, stepping back to stare at her. “You’ll – you’ll really do that? It would take up so much of your time.”

 “Of course I will,” Anne said, as if the idea of not helping him was ludicrous. “You belong here, Jerry, and just because you didn’t have the same opportunities as the rest of us before doesn’t mean you should have to suffer for it.”

Jerry felt the weight he had been carrying since September lighten a little.

  ***

Marilla was in the kitchen preparing dinner when she heard the crash. The bowl dropped from her hands as she rushed out the patio door. All the reminders came flooding back into her head, how she forgot to make Matthew go to the hospital wing, how she had heard him coughing this morning at breakfast-

Matthew was slumped against the barn door, the box of padlocks dropped to the ground.

“Matthew!” Marilla felt her heart stop for a moment. No, not her little brother, not him too…

She rushed inside, nearly spilling the floo powder jar as she grabbed some and yelled into the fire.

“Hogwarts Hospital wing!”

  ***

“Then the go-goblin – army fled, leaving no su-sur-vivors,” Jerry finished, beaming in pride. He had gotten through half the chapter, in only about twenty minutes, far faster than he had before.

“That was great!” Anne praised. “Now, let’s work on writing about it.”  Jerry groaned theatrically, but Anne ignored him with practiced ease. Jerry much preferred reading to writing. The latter was much harder, and he grew frustrated with the lack of progress easily.

"Anne! Jerry!” They were interrupted by Diana’s arrival, her hair flying about her and her cheeks red from running. Jerry hastily covered his work – he hadn’t told Diana about his private reading lessons from Anne, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Diana? What’s the matter?” Anne half rose out of the chair.

“I just saw Marilla in the hospital wing,” Diana panted. “She told me to come find you- it’s Matthew, he collapsed or something-“

Anne went white as she exchanged a fearful look with Jerry.

“Go, go, I’ll get your stuff,” Diana said, but Anne was already gone, running through the castle with Jerry right behind her.

Marilla was pacing by the side of a hospital bed when Anne and Jerry arrived, out of breath and robes is disarray.

“Is he-“ Anne started fearfully, and Marilla shook her head. Anne let out a sigh of relief and Marilla stepped aside to let both children see the bed. Matthew lay there, fast asleep. He looked peaceful even with the dark circles under his eyes.

“You again? ” Madam Edgecomb groaned when she saw Anne there. “How did you get hurt this time?”

“It’s not me,” Anne said quickly. Marilla smiled despite herself – Anne did tend to end up in the hospital wing often.

 "Then why – oh,” Madam Edgecomb put the pieces together as she saw which bed Anne was hovering by.

“It will be quite alright, he was just pushing himself too hard,” Madam Edgecomb spoke gently. “I already told Ms Cuthbert, a few potions and some rest and he’ll be good as new.”

“Really?” Anne questioned. “He collapsed, doesn’t that mean something is wrong with him? Mr. Hammond collapsed and he-”she broke off, shuddering. She still had nightmares of Mr. Hammond dying right in front of her.

“This Mr Hammond was a muggle,” Madam Edgecomb said dismissively. “Wizards and witches can solve a lot more health issues than muggles can.”

 “Not croup,” Anne muttered under her breath. Jerry privately agreed.

“Don’t you worry about a thing dear,” Madam Edgecomb continued. “But you can wait with your family as long as you want.”

“Guardians,” Anne corrected automatically, and across from her Marilla frowned slightly. She gave Anne a pensive stare, before squeezing Matthew’s hand tightly.

Jerry wondered what that was all about. Anne always corrected people when they mistook the Cuthberts as her family members. Jerry wasn’t really sure what the difference was, but Anne was insistent on it.

“He’ll have to take it easy this summer,” Marilla tutted. “We’re really very lucky you’re here Anne, to help me ease his load.”

 “Of course,” Anne agreed immediately. “Anything you need Marilla, I can help with. It’s the least I can do, to help Matthew. Especially after everything you have done for me, it’s only right I earn my way.” Marilla frowned deeper at that. She opened her mouth, but closed it before she said anything.

Jerry looked at Anne to see if she understood that, but she only had eyes for Matthew.

“End of July and August will be the hardest,” Marilla sighed. “With the annual bowtruckle infestation and the likelihood of a draught. We may have to enlist some help, but that would mean hiring someone.”

 “What about Jerry?” Anne suggested quickly, spinning to face him. “He comes along with Matthew and I all the time, Marilla, and he knows how to take care of all the plants-“

“Calm down Anne, before your excitement lands you in a hospital bed too,” Marilla chided. “Now, I’m sure Mr. Bayard is needed at his own home-“

“I can help,” Jerry said quickly. “I’d be happy to, Madam Cuthbert really.”

“That’s very kind Mr. Bayard, but I’m afraid I don’t know how much we could pay you,” Marilla said awkwardly.

“You don’t need to pay me,” Jerry said. “But, well,” the practicalities of the situation caught up with him and he flushed. “I don’t have a way to get here, my house doesn’t have a floo or anything.”

“We could arrange to have one set up, Rachel’s husband works in that department. If that’s alright with your parents,” Marilla said. “And of course we would provide you with the floo powder. But I can’t in good conscience allow you to do this without some form of repayment, Mr. Bayard, are you sure there isn’t anything we can offer you?”

"Well-“ In truth, he felt he owed this to Anne after all the free lessons, but he couldn’t very well tell Madam Cuthbert that little secret. But the reminder of reading lessons put an idea in his head.

“If you have any second hand textbooks for next year, that would help,” Jerry offered. “My family – well, they can’t get to London easily anyway, and the textbooks are very expensive-“ Jerry shuffled, wondering if this was asking too much.

“I think that would doable,” Marilla said kindly, “I’ll see about the floo network right away. And you’re welcome to join us when we take Anne to Diagon Alley for her school supplies as well.”

“Thank you,” Jerry couldn’t wait to tell his parents. The textbooks had set them back, he knew, and he had felt guilty about it.

“Thank you, Jerry,” Marilla said. “Now, Matthew needs to rest – you can come back and see him tomorrow.”

“But-“ Anne began, but Marilla shook her head.

“No arguments. Your exams are coming up soon, you need the time to study. Now go along.”

 “We can work on writing when you come visit,” Anne whispered as they left the hospital wing.

 Jerry groaned.

“It’s supposed to be a holiday Anne!”

  ***

Before they knew it, the end of the year arrived and exams were upon them. Anne studied furiously, still feeling like she had to make up for missing half the year. She dragged Diana, Jerry and even Ruby outside almost every day to study under her favorite oak tree, and Diana had to hide her potions book the night before the exam to get Anne to go to sleep.

But, at long last, they put their quills down after the last exam, and the whole year breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“What now?” Ruby asked them as she, Diana and Anne relaxed on the front lawn. Everyone was outside, soaking up the sunshine without a care in the world. “We don’t need to worry about packing until tomorrow night.”

Diana and Anne shared a mischievous grin.

“Let’s go flying!” They said together, dragging Ruby towards the broom shed.

“Oh no, no, no, I hate flying, Anne! ”

  *** 

They got their exam results back one by one, but the class rankings were posted on each of their walls the next day. Diana had dragged Anne over at once to check the scores.

“You passed everything with top scores, Anne, I bet you came in first!”

“Diana, don’t you dare get my hopes up! You know perfectly well that my potions score was horrible, and I struggled so with transfiguration, I swear Professor Phillips hates me-“

Diana squealed and pointed at the notice board.

Anne Shirley  was written there, right at the top of the first year class.

“Anne! You came in first!” Diana shrieked, earning some glares from the older Ravenclaws who were standing a little too close for comfort.

“I – I did it,” Anne said in disbelief. “Diana! I did it!”

Without permission, her eyes flickered to the next list over, for the second years.

Gilbert Blythe it said at the top of the list.

  ***

"I’ll see you soon, I guess,” Anne said as Jerry waited to board a carriage.

“End of July,” Jerry agreed. “My ma wants me to spend the first few weeks at home – but maybe I could write to you? If you send me an owl first.”

"You actually want to write?” Anne teased him, and Jerry nudged her playfully.

“You most be so excited to see your family,” Anne sighed wistfully. “Not seeing them since Easter and all.”

“Since September,” Jerry corrected. “I had to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays – my family lives too far away from London to take the train.”

“Oh,” Anne was surprised at that. She had just assumed Jerry had gone home.

“Next year you can some to Green Gables with me,” Anne offered. “If you want to, that is. It isn’t as good as being with an actual family, probably but Matthew and Marilla are a close second.”

“Really?” Jerry said hopefully. “That would be great. It’s lonely here during the holidays.”

“Is it very exciting, to be going home?” Anne asked.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Jerry asked. “You’re going home too.” Anne gaped at him and he reached out and tweaked her braid shyly, just like Matthew always did.

“See you soon," he said before Anne could form a response, waving goodbye to Diana and climbing in the carriage.

“He’s so annoying,” Anne grumbled to Diana, but she was smiling.

“Whatever you say, Anne,” Diana indulged her friend. “Come on, we have a long walk ahead of us.

  * * *

“Dad?” Gilbert called as he rolled his trunk into the hallway. “Is everything ok? Ms Sloane wouldn’t say why you couldn’t pick me up-”

“Gilbert?” A faint call came from the front bedroom. “Son, is that you?” 

Gilbert’s heart thudded. 

“Dad?" He dropped his jacket, rushing to his father’s room. 

John Blythe lay on his bed, propped up against his pillows and a series of empty potion vials on the bedside table. 

“Dad?” Gilbert’s voice shook. 

“Welcome home, son,” John said kindly, reaching out to clutch Gilbert’s hand. 

“Dad, what happened? What’s wrong?” His father had been fine when Gilbert had seen him over the Easter holidays. Now, looking at him, all Gilbert could think of was his siblings, wasting away in their beds. 

“Sit down son,” John said heavily. “I’m afraid we have to talk about something...” 

***

“Matthew? Marilla? I’m home,” Anne called as she set her school bag down on the floor. Her trunk had been gone that morning after breakfast, so Anne assumed it had been sent here already.

 “Anne?” Marilla’s voice sounded. “Is that you? Come into the parlor, we have something to show you.”

Curiosity piqued, Anne walked through the kitchen and through the parlor door.

Matthew and Marilla were both standing there, smiling at her. They were dressed in the same robes they had worn to see the Minister’s speech in.

“What’s going on?” Anne said. “Is everything ok?”

“Anne, come here,” Marilla beckoned her over. “There’s something Matthew and I wanted to ask you.”

She led Anne over to the bookstand, where a heavy leather tome sat open. Anne noticed that only half the page was filled with writing.

“This is our family book, going back generations,” Marilla explained. “Most wizarding families have one. Whenever a Cuthbert is born, their name is added to the book. Later, we add their Hogwarts house and the year they started. Here, look." She pointed at the book and Anne read obediently.

Marilla Cuthbert…..Hufflepuff.

And right below her was Matthew’s name, written in the same slanted handwriting, dated a few years later. There was another name written above Marilla’s, the Hogwarts year dated a few years before Marilla’s.

Michael Cuthbert….Hufflepuff .

Their father’s name was above that, the same house written for him, and their grandfather.

“So many of your family was in Hufflepuff, it’s extraordinary-“ Anne started to say, looking up.

“Here,” Matthew said gently, holding out a quill to her.

Anne’s breath hitched. “I-“

“We wanted to ask you to add your name to the book,” Marilla had never sounded so gentle. “After all, you’re a Cuthbert now. If you’d like.”

“Oh Marilla,” Anne said, her voice shaking with emotion. She felt like she needed to sit down. “I’ve never wanted anything more in the world.”

“There, there,” Marilla fussed, embarrassed by the honest emotion in Anne’s face. “Go ahead, before the ink dries.”

Anne took the quill solemnly from Matthew, who winked at her. Very carefully, she pressed it onto the page.

Anne Shirley Cuthbert       Ravenclaw, January 1893

“A toast!” Matthew crowed, pulling out some butterbeer. “To the best in her class – Anne Shirley Cuthbert!”

Anne laughed, basking in the warm love that filled the parlor.

 Jerry had been right after all.

She was home.

Chapter Text

Year Two:  Anything’s Possible If You’ve Got Enough Nerve 

“Oh Diana!” Anne clutched her friends’ hand in excitement. “Can you believe that in scarcely five minutes a whole new school year will begin? A brand new slate of spells and friends and adventures await us!”

“And homework, and exams,” Diana reminded her. 

“Oh don’t be so unromantical Diana!” Anne scolded her. “You sound like Marilla. We’re second years now, we should be excited about it!” 

“It is nice not to be the youngest students,” Diana admitted. 

“Exactly!” Anne said. “And anyways, I wasn’t here last fall, so I didn’t get to witness all the beauty and wonder of the start of term! This is my first Welcome Feast, and there’s the first quidditch game, and Halloween!” 

“I am very glad you’re here now,” Diana smiled at Anne, squeezing her hand back. “I can’t imagine Hogwarts without you.” 

“Oh Diana!” Anne gazed at her bosom friend, pure love in her eyes. “I am the luckiest girl in the world to have found a kindred spirit such as you.” 

The girls leaned their heads against each other, enjoying the moment. 

“Oh! I think I hear them!” Diana said, and they sprang up from the step as the heavy entrance hall doors opened. Hundreds of students poured through, creating a sea of black robes and teenage chatter. 

“Do you see them?” Anne asked Diana anxiously as they both craned their necks, looking over the crowd. 

“Diana! Anne!” Ruby broke through the crowd. Her face was lit up in a wide smile as she threw her arms around the other two girls. “I missed you so much! Anne your letters were positively thrilling, and Diana your trip to London sounded so divine!” 

“We missed you too!” Anne said. “The summer felt so long - thank heavens September is finally here.” 

“Only you would be excited about school Anne,” Ruby giggled, shaking her head. 

“Well why wouldn’t I be?” Anne said, wondering how anyone could not be excited to learn more magic. “The more you learn, the more of the world is open to you! Just think of all the amazing things we are about to discover, the mysteries inside each textbook!”

“Oh Anne,” Ruby could only laugh. 

“Well, come on!” Anne said excitedly, pulling them along. “We need to get inside before all the good seats are taken! I can’t be late to my first welcome feast!” 

The three joined the crowd, pushing forward to the large Grand Hall, though Anne made them stop right outside the entrance, linking their arms together. 

“Second year,” Anne said, emphasizing the importance of the words. “Are you ready?” Ruby and Diana nodded, sharing in Anne’s infectious enthusiasm. 

“Let’s go!” Anne cried in delight, surging across the cobblestones. They all nearly fell onto a Hufflepuff bench, laughing as they struggled to walk in step together. 

Second year was going to be amazing, Anne decided. 

* * *

The house felt quieter with Anne gone, and it’s effect was clear on Matthew and Marilla both. Marilla accidentally set out three plates for dinner one night, and Matthew caught himself  frequently looking for Anne to show her something in the forest. 

Quiet had always been a part of the Cuthbert household. Matthew wasn’t one to start conversations, and Marilla was a master at summing anything that needed to be said in a succinct manner, and adding nothing more. For nearly thirty years, it had been a comfortable silence that reigned in Green Gables. Now, after having Anne for a mere summer, the silence felt suffocating. 

“Oh stop moping Matthew!” Marilla chided one evening when Matthew’s gaze rested too long on Anne’s usual spot in the parlor. “It’s not as if we won’t see her again, for Merlin’s sake. Soon as she can, she'll be tagging along on your weekend chores instead of doing her schoolwork, or I’ll be called up to the school for whatever mischief she gets into on those adventures of hers.” Marilla let out a loud tutting noise to show just what she thought of Anne’s penchant to wander. 

Matthew hid a smile. He more than anyone understood the desire to seek out all the unknown areas in Hogwarts, though his motive had been to find a place where no one could find him. Matthew had probably discovered more of Hogwarts than even the professors knew of while at Hogwarts, and he had guarded those secrets carefully. Only Michael had even been entrusted with each new place. 

Matthew hadn’t told Anne of these places, respecting her right to discover them herself. He wouldn’t want to rob her of the joy it brought her to find them on her own. Still, he hadn’t been above giving her a nudge or two in the right direction. 

“Here, Anne. For you,” Matthew lay a bundle of brand new quills on Anne’s lap, tied with brightly colored twine. 

“Brand new quills?” Anne’s hand hovered over them, as if afraid they would disappear if she touched them. “Oh Matthew, thank you!” And she did touch the quills then, only to move them aside in order to hug Matthew tightly. 

“Second year,” Matthew said, quirking an eyebrow. “and your first full one at Hogwarts. Should be exciting.” 

“Exciting and nerve-wracking,” Anne admitted. “Matthew - what if I don’t do as well as last year? It was hard enough catching up and that was all the basic spells. This year is sure to be harder, and I would never want to let you or Marilla down, but what if I do?” 

“Now you listen here, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert,” Matthew said firmly, bending over so that he and Anne were eye to eye. “You’re as smart as they make ‘em, you are, and I don’t reckon there isn’t anything those professors could throw at you that you can’t handle.” He tapped her nose gently, eliciting a slight giggle. “And as for letting us down, well that just isn’t possible.” 

“Matthew,” Anne’s voice was fond as she threw her arms around him again. “Thank you,” she added, muffled against his coat. Matthew patted her back a little awkwardly, clearing his own throat against a sudden lump. 

“One last thing,” Matthew said when Anne had stepped back. He looked around covertly, making sure Marilla was nowhere in sight. She would undoubtedly not approve of what she was about to tell her. He raised a finger to his lips, nodding at Anne until she copied the gesture, eyes alight with mischief. He leaned in close to whisper. 

“Tickle the pear.” 

Anne pulled a confused face. That had not been what she was expecting. “Tickle the pear?” 

Matthew just winked at her, tweaking her braids gently. 

Matthew smiled fondly at the memory. He was eager to see how long it would be for Anne to unravel that particular riddle. He would deal with Marilla’s lectures when the time came. 

“Oh, Anne left her first year herbology book,” Marilla said, pulling it out from the stack of   books on the coffee table. Marilla frowned as she turned the book over in her hand, “She may need this, for reference or something. They use these plants in potions, don’t they? She might need it for an essay.” Marilla tutted. “Well I suppose I’ll just nip up to the castle tomorrow morning at breakfast and give it to her then. Better she have it as soon as possible.” 

“They have copies at the library, don’t they?” Matthew asked, unable to keep from teasing his sister a little. As if Herbology wasn’t one of Anne’s best subjects anyways, or she could borrow Diana or another friend’s text. 

“That’s hardly reliable,” Marilla sniffed. “I won’t have Anne unable to do her homework because all of the first year herbology texts are checked out. No, its better I just drop it off with her tomorrow, and remind Anne to kindly remember all of her texts next time.” Marilla very pointedly ignored Matthew’s knowing look. 

Matthew smiled into the fireplace as he sipped his tea. Seems it wasn’t just him the silence was bothering. 

***

The Ravenclaws still had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and Anne and Jerry used the walk to the greenhouse and back to catch up. Jerry had seen Anne the most that summer, except for Diana of course. He had spent almost three weeks flooing to the Cuthberts to help Matthew out, and at the end of summer that had taken him along when they went to Diagon Alley for school supplies. 

Jerry felt warm as he recalled the brand new textbooks he now carried in his bag. He had been prepared for second hand texts, but Madam Cuthbert had insisted. He and Anne had spent almost an hour pouring over them when they returned; Anne bookmarking every new spell she wanted to learn until there were more bookmarks than pages stuffed into the bindings, and Jerry admiring the crisp new pages and fresh book smell with reverence. They had been so eager to write their names in the texts- Jerry for the sheer delight of how nice his letters now looked, and the joy he got whenever he remembered that these books, the brand new beautiful books, belonged to him, and Anne because it gave her a chance to write her brand new name, something that always brought a smile to her face. 

“Don’t forget the E,” Jerry had teased her, and she retaliated by flicking ink at him, giggling when he hastily protected his new books from the onslaught. 

“What did you think of the lesson?” Anne asked now as they walked back to the castle, a little ahead of the rest of their classmates. “Mandrakes are certainly more exciting than anything we handled last year.” 

“I suppose, but it was a bit boring,” Jerry complained. “Matthew already told us all about how to repot Mandrakes.”

“Yes, but Professor MacMillian can teach us more about their magical properties,” Anne said optimistically. “And it’s not her fault that Matthew already taught us all this.”

“Do I even need to go to the next class? She’s going to be walking us through repotting again, and I can do that by myself. What’s the point?”

“You could always participate by answering the questions and helping the others,” Anne raised an eyebrow pointedly. “You always know the answers to her questions, but you never raise your hand.”

“And take a question away from you?” Jerry grinned at Anne’s embarrassed flush. She could always be relied on to know the answer for any professor, as well as having ten of her own to ask in return. 

Still, maybe she had a point. Professor MacMillian always handed out points for students who could answer questions, and it would be nice to earn Hufflepuff house some. Madam Cuthbert had mentioned over the summer that Hufflepuff hadn’t won the house cup in all the year she had been their head of house. Maybe this year could be different. 

“I wish Ravenclaws didn’t have double potions on Friday’s,” Anne sighed as they entered the castle. “It absolutely ruins a perfectly good day, forcing us to endure such purgatory before we can be released for the weekend.”

“Better than at the start of the week, isn’t it?” Jerry pointed out. 

“Better not at all.” Anne muttered. “Hey, did you start on the transfiguration essay-”

“Hey! Fido!” A third year Slytherin stepped out in front of them, sneering down at Anne. 

Anne took a sharp breath, her shoulders tensing. Jerry glanced between the two, not understanding what was happening. 

“I see they made the mistake of letting you back in, Fido,” The Slytherin taunted, and the two cronies with him laughed. “What, did you tell the Headmaster you would make a good charity case? Or are you Ravenclaw’s house new pet.”

“Go away Billy,” Anne said loudly, but Jerry could hear how shaky her voice was. “We didn’t do anything to bother you, just leave us alone.” 

Billy. Jerry remembered Diana and Anne mentioning him a few times last year - he was their roommate’s brother, but he didn’t like Anne for some reason. Diana kept telling Anne to tell a teacher about it, but Anne had waved it off. Jerry had thought it was just the normal kind of avoidance or haughty looks he himself had put up with. But Billy’s words just now had a cruelty to them that spoke of something much more like hatred. 

“On the contrary, Fido, your being here is bothering me, is bothering all of us,” Billy retaliated, gesturing to his cronies. “And I don’t appreciate you hanging around my sisters - might get your dirty orphan germs all over them.” Anne flushed at those words, and Jerry narrowed his eyes. He didn’t have a high opinion of Slytherin’s already, but Billy was easily the worst of the lot.

“Hey,” he said sharply, before Billy could continue. “We’re just trying to get to class. There’s no need to be nasty.” 

Billy glanced at him, giving him a dismissive once over. “I don’t believe I asked for your opinion, mudblood.” 

Jerry felt as if he had been slapped. He knew that word, he had heard it whispered but no one had ever dared say it to his face -

“How dare you!” Anne was yelling, and faster than any of the boys could react she had drawn her wand. 

“ FURNUCLUS!” Anne roared, and Billy howled in pain, clutching at his face as painful boils began to erupt. 

“How dare you say that word to Jerry, Billy Andrews-” Anne railed, towering in righteous anger. “Of all the lowly, despicable things-” 

“Anne Shirley!” Someone voice bellowed, and the whole group turned to see Professor Philips striding towards them. “Anne Shirley if you cannot control your nasty temper than you are not fit to be around civilized company!” Philips lectured. “You, and you, get Mr Andrews to the hospital wing,” he snapped at Billy’s cronies, and the two boys hurried Billy off. Jerry watched them rush across the corridor, Billy grinning as smugly as he could amid grotesque boils. Jerry found himself hoping that Madame Edgecomb wouldn’t be able to fix the boils quickly. 

“Detention Ms Shirley!” Professor Phillips snapped.

“But sir, it was Billy, he called Jerry-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Professor Phillips glared and Anne fell silent, nodding stiffly. 

“But sir, she was just defending me-” Jerry tried, unwilling to let Anne take the fall for this. 

“Silence!” Professor Phillips whirled on him, and Anne pinched Jerry’s arm slightly, shaking her head. 

“I will be speaking to your head of house about this,” Professor Phillips sniffed. “Now get to class, the both of you,” he stormed off. 

“Marilla is not going to be happy,” Anne sighed. “And knowing my luck the detention will be right after double potions. I just can’t catch a break.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” Jerry said. “But - thanks.” 

“He shouldn’t be allowed to say that word,” Anne said fiercely. “No one should, and especially not to you.”  She started to walk toward the staircase, and Jerry followed, half jogging in order to keep up with her pace. Anne walked faster when she was angry. 

“I don’t think he will, not any time soon,” Jerry offered. “Those boils looked painful,” he grinned. 

“Good,” Anne said savagely. 

“I’m sorry you got detention,” Jerry apologized when they reached the second floor. Anne had defense on this floor, while he had charms on the fourth. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Anne said, smiling at him. “It was worth it.” 

“Aw, you do like me,” Jerry teased. “I’m honored, Anne.” 

“You’re so annoying, ” Anne groaned.

***

Anne indeed was to serve her detention that night. Luckily for her, it seemed someone had informed Professor Luewellyn, the Ravenclaw head of house, exactly what lead to Anne jinxing Billy, because Professor Luewellyn assigned her to help the librarian sort through the new books for the library. It was hardly much of a chore, to Anne’s relief. And given Jane’s slightly frosty behavior to her earlier, it was almost preferable to being in the dorm. 

(Diana thought Jane was being silly, but Anne couldn’t really blame her - Billy was Jane’s brother, horrid as he was. She couldn’t expect Jane to forgive her right away for jinxing him.)

Master Vance, the librarian, seemed wary at allowing Anne to handle his precious books, though she promised she would be careful. He made her keep to the textbooks and reference books, sorting them in their proper sections. For the first half hour he hovered over her, watching her with a sharp eye, before deciding that her work was adequate and moving on to his own stack of books. He kept popping up unannounced at first, certain he would catch her in the act of slacking or defacing the books, but after some time whatever he was shelving in the restricted section distracted him, and Anne was let to work in peace. 

Anne made a type of game of it, coming up with fantastic backstories for each author as she shelved them, giving them lives full of adventure and excitement and romances most tragical. She committed each bookshelf to memory- it could come in handy for future research. 

She was just debating between giving her current author a thrilling battle with a dragon or a brave sea voyage when she heard someone coming around the corner. She knew right away it wasn’t Master Vance - his footsteps were heavier, and he breathed loudly whenever he walked. 

Another professor, then, or a student, though the latter was unlikely. It was after dinner on a Friday evening, what student would be sacrificing that time to be in the library? 

Anne’s question was answered when the person rounded the corner. She glanced up, mildly curious, and found herself looking at none other than Gilbert Blythe himself. Her good mood evaporated swifty, replaced by sharp irritation. 

“Anne?” Gilbert questioned. Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to be in the library at this late hour. Anne found herself offended by that - had she not proven she was just as smart and studious as bloody Gilbert Blythe? How dare he assume that he was the only one to use the library? Anne sniffed and returned to the stacks of books, concentrating on her task as loud as she could. She was not speaking to Gilbert Blythe. 

“Still ignoring me then,” Gilbert said, having the gall to sound amused by her (entirely justified) anger. He let out a melodramatic sigh, that Anne had to roll her eyes at. 

“It’s good to see you,” Gilbert continued, not taking the hint to go away. “Was your summer enjoyable?” 

Anne slammed the book into its proper place harder than necessary. She grabbed the stack of books and moved to the next shelf over. She didn’t glance back, instead holding her head aloof. 

Magical Maladies, C Splintburn.... Her eyes flitted over the titles, looking for the other copies of the book. 

“I heard I have you to thank for sparing me Billy’s company in classes this afternoon.” 

“Are you following me?!” Anne demanded, whirling on Gilbert. 

He blinked at her. “No,” he said, gripping his school bag. “I came here to look for a book on healing and illnesses. Madam Edgecomb recommended it. It’s called A Thousand And One Remedies ?” 

“Oh,” Anne’s anger abated slightly. “It’s on that shelf,” she added, pointing. 

She wasn’t being helpful, she told herself. The faster he got his book, the faster he would leave. 

“Thanks,” Gilbert gave her that weird smile he always had, the one that always annoyed Anne because she couldn’t make sense of it. 

“So,” Gilbert said, apparently intent on continuing the conversation now that it had begun. “This is your detention? Doesn’t seem like much a punishment for you.” 

“Time in the library is never a punishment,” Anne responded, just to remind him that she was as serious about school as he was. “Haven’t you found your book yet?” She asked pointedly. 

Gilbert waved the book at her. “Easily, thanks to you,” he said cheekily. “But I wanted to look at what else was over here - in case this book doesn’t have the answer.” 

“The answer to what?” Anne asked, unable to help herself. 

Gilbert didn’t answer right away. For the first time since Anne had met him, his face was devoid of any smirks or irritating smiles. In fact, Anne almost thought he looked sad. He didn’t look at her, gazing at the book instead. 

“My dad - isn’t feeling well,” Gilbert said hesitantly. “He says he’s fine, and all, but I thought there might be something in here to help him get back on his feet quicker.”

“Oh,” Anne didn’t know what to say to that. “I- I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Gilbert Blythe was annoying, but Anne imagined that it couldn’t be fair to anyone to deal with their parent being ill. She remembered how worried she had been when Matthew fell sick last spring. 

“It’s alright,” Gilbert shrugged. “He keeps telling me not to worry anyways, to focus on school and friends and stuff.” 

Anne nodded and they lapsed into an awkward silence. 

“So, why boils?” Gilbert asked, and Anne felt a mixture of shame and vindication at the reminder of her quick temper’s actions. 

“It was the first thing that came to mind that felt equal to the insult,” Anne said shortly. 

“What?” Gilbert’s attention zeroed in on her, uncomfortably intense. “What did he say to you?”

“Not to me ,” Anne explained. “To my friend. He called him...something awful,” she finished, unwilling to use the actual word.” 

“So you covered him with boils,” Gilbert seemed delighted by that. 

“And got caught by Mr. Phillips.” Anne said. She hefted the book still in her arms. She looked over the shelves more carefully - she knew the other copies of the book had to be in this stack, Master Vance kept his library in meticulate order, always. 

She craned her neck back a little, in order to see better above. 

There! An entire row of Magical Maladies by C Splintburn. Anne stretched her arm up, but the shelf was too high, even on her tiptoes. She would have to find some other means of getting it up there. 

Tucking the book securely under her arm, Anne pulled herself up on the bottom shelf and began to carefully scale the shelf. It took her less than a minute to reach the right section, and with ease she slid the new copy of Magical Maladies right in-between it’s brothers and sisters.  

“You’re home,” she whispered to the book gently. She nimbly climbed down two shelves, before turning and jumping the rest of the distance to the floor. She rubbed her hands in self-satisfaction. “All done,” she announced, more to herself than her audience. 

Her audience in question was rather bemused. 

“Why didn’t you just use the levitation charm?” Gilbert asked. 

“I’m not allowed to use my wand in detention,” Anne shrugged. “Master Vance took it when I arrived.”

“You could have asked me,” Gilbert said. “I would have been happy to help. Better than climbing the shelf.” 

Anne’s earlier irritation returned full blast. “I didn’t need your help, my way worked just fine.” 

“Looked cumbersome,” Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “Especially when you can just wave a wand and-”

“What, because the magic way is always better?” Anne seethed. “Muggles can shelve books just fine without it, dare I say even better because they aren’t always relying on a wand to solve all their problems.” 

“Wait, n-” Gilbert started but Anne wasn’t listening. She couldn’t believe she had let herself be tricked into having a conversation with Gilbert Blythe, sick father or not. He had the same fool minded idea about magic superiority that almost everyone did, and this was proof. 

Ignoring Gilbert’s protests, Anne stalked from the stacks. She found Master Vance right away, informing him that she had finished and retrieving a gruff response and her wand in return. 

Anne sped away from the library. She could hear Gilbert calling her name as he tried to catch up, but she ducked into the hidden passageway that led right outside Ravenclaw tower and lost him. 

“How was detention?” Diana asked when Anne returned. 

“Terrible,” Anne grumbled. 

***

“Yes, Ms Shirley,” Professor Allen nodded at her, inwardly sighing. It seemed that it would be another year where Anne Shirley seemed to be the only one able to answer questions about the reading. 

“Shirley-Cuthbert, actually,” the redheaded Ravenclaw correctly sprightly. 

Professor Allen blinked. “Oh.” He had been unaware that the Cuthbert siblings had taken that step with the orphan child. He was a tad surprised - it was Marilla and Matthew, after all. 

“Well, Ms Shirley-Cuthbert,” Professor Allen recovered. “Do you actually know the answer?” 

“We use the nettles, sir,” she answered cheerfully. 

“That is correct,” Again “5 points to Ravenclaw.” 

***

“Anne, Anne,” Jerry nearly runs trips over himself as he ran up to where Ruby, Diana and Anne were all seated under Anne’s favourite tree, crafting flower crowns under Anne’s tutorage. 

“I made the quidditch team!” Jerry said excitedly, and Anne gasped in delight. 

“Oh Jerry, that’s wonderful , I told you you could do it-”

“What position?” Diana asked, always ready to talk about anything quidditch or flying related. In her estimate, Jerry was too small to be a beater, but his steady hand while on a broom would lend him well to seeker or keeper-”

“The new Hufflepuff chaser,” Jerry said proudly. “They just posted the news, we start practice this week!” 

“Congratulations,” Ruby said politely. She and Jerry were well acquainted with each other through Anne, but the two had never quite clicked as friends. Ruby wasn’t entirely sure how one even went about being friends with boys, though Anne and Diana managed it well enough. 

 “You’ll have to tell Matthew and Marilla,” Anne grinned. “Marilla will be thrilled, apparently they used to be a big quidditch family. She’ll be over the moon about this, it’s just absolutely perfect-” 

“We can tell them this weekend,” Jerry agreed right away. “I have to go, I want to write my family, and the school owls always run out quickly.” 

“You can borrow Alethia,” Diana offered graciously, and Jerry beamed at her. 

“Merci, Diana, merci!” Jerry said, rushing off again. 

“Don’t  forget we’re working on the History of Magic essay tonight!” Anne yelled after him, and Jerry waved his hand in acknowledgement. That was their established code for Anne helping Jerry improve his reading and writing. Anne wondered how if they would have to change up their meeting days now that Jerry would have quidditch practice. 

“I wish you would help me with the history of magic essay,” Ruby muttered, and Anne shook her head. 

“Ruby, I’ve told you, you don’t need the extra help. You already know the basics of wizarding history, Jerry and I don’t.”

“I do if Binn’s is going to keep teaching it,” Ruby said in exasperation, falling back dramatically on the ground. “I can never focus on what he is saying!” 

Anne and Diana shared a knowing look, well used to Ruby’s dramatics. 

“Was Jerry speaking French?” Diana asked suddenly. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah, his parents immigrated here from France or something right before he was born,” Anne said. “He kept singing french songs all summer, it was so annoying.” 

“Huh,” Diana said thoughtfully. She had never met anyone outside of her family who could speak french, at least not as well as her mother had taught her too. 

“Please, Anne,” Ruby was still pleading, her flower crown of pink posies half falling off of her face. “It’s the writing part that’s hard anyway, your essays are always so good and mine are just terrible, I never know what to say.” 

Anne looked at them speculatively. She couldn’t invite Ruby to their private lessons of course, Jerry would be horrified, but perhaps there was something else they could do. Anne had missed coming up with stories. 

“I do believe,” Anne announced grandly, drawing it out for suspense. Diana and Ruby didn’t disappoint, leaning forward eagerly. “that we are in dire and desperate need for a story club.” 

***

“Aunt Jo says hello and that you absolutely must write to her soon,” Diana read from her letter at the breakfast table. “She’s coming to visit at Christmas again, and I’m sure she’ll insist on you visiting.”

“I would be delighted to,” Anne said, reaching for the breakfast rolls and grabbing an extra for Diana. She put it on Diana’s plate while Diana poured them both porridge. “That gives me something extra special to look forward to in the holidays, though I do wonder if this Christmas can be as perfectly wonderful as last years, when I was adopted and learned I was a witch, and of course met you Diana.” 

“Well, you still have all those things, so anything you gain this year must be better,” Diana pointed out logically. 

Anne laughed. “You’re right, of course, Diana, my life really is just a treasure of wonders.” 

“That’s because you find the magic in everything, Anne,” Diana smiled. “Come on, we have to return Aethia to the owlery before class.” 

The morning air was crisp as they walked up the owlery tower staircases, and Anne breathed it in deeply. As soon as they reached the owlery Anne rushed over to the window, looking down at the grounds below in utter rapture. 

The forest was a sea of reds, oranges and yellows, swirling together under a clear blue sky. The sky stretched for as far as the eye could see, the blue-grey mountains rising in the distance. 

“Oh Diana, isn’t it beautiful,” Anne sighed. “How lucky we are, to live in a world with Octobers.” 

“There you go again,” Diana said softly, smoothing Alethia’s feathers one last time. “Finding the magic in everything around you.”

“In a world as wonderful as this, how can we not?” Anne spread her arms wide. “It makes me want to wake up each morning and shout “Good Morning!” to the world!”

“Please don’t,” Diana laughed. “Jane and I prefer to sleep.” 

“I’ll try to resist,” Anne promised solemnly. This invoked another round of giggling as they descended from the tower, arm in arm. 

They ran into Ruby at the bottom of the staircase, trapped in a conversation with the Gryffindor ghost. Their friend sent them a rather desperate look, but Anne was already bounding forward, joining the conversation. 

“Good morning Ruby, good morning Sir Nicholas,” Anne greeted brightly. Ruby let out an audible sigh of relief as the ghost smiled kindly at Anne. He was rather fond of Anne, who was the only one to actually address him by his preferred title, and was enthralled by his stories of King Henry’s court. 

“Why good morning Anne, Diana,” Sir Nicholas tipped his head, and Ruby and Diana quickly looked away so as not to see his neck bob open unfortunately. “You have the most fortunate timing, I was just telling Ms Ruby here all about my upcoming deathday party.” 

Ruby shook her head vividly behind him but it was too late. Anne’s eyes lit up. 

“What’s a deathday party?” Sir Nicholas looked all too delighted to be asked. 

“It’s the anniversary of the day I died,” the ghost announced grandly. Diana wrinkled her nose- wasn’t that the sort of thing one wouldn’t want to celebrate? 

“Oh how tragically beautiful,” Anne breathed. “A celebration of such an important moment, in defiance of the awful circumstances.” 

“Precisely!” Sir Nicholas nodded at her. “You understand it perfectly Anne, of just how special this day is to a ghost. It’s not as big as last year, of course, which was the 400th anniversary, but I am having a small gathering all the same, the ghosts of the castle - not Peeves, naturally, he made a mess of the whole thing last year - and a few of the professors have promised to stop by after the All Hallows Eve feast.” 

 “You died on Halloween?” Diana asked. Anne had to agree that was morbidly ironic if it were true. 

“I did indeed,” Sir Nicholas said proudly. “Executed by the King’s most favored axman.” 

“How...lovely?” Diana wasn’t sure how she was supposed to respond, but Sir Nicholas nodded emphatically. 

“It wasn’t everyone who got to be executed by him.” He said, puffing his chest out. 

“Well, it sounds like it will be a perfectly wonderful celebration,” Anne said, and Ruby and Diana hastened to agree. 

“It shall be- say,” Sir Nicholas paused, scrutinizing them. “I don’t suppose you three would like to come? It would be such a pleasure to have your company on such an occasion.”

“Do you really mean it?” Anne pressed him, excited by the prospect. “Oh Sir Nicholas I would be honored to attend.” 

“Splendid!” Sir Nicholas cried. “Diana, Ruby?” He looked at the others.  

“I - well,” Diana stuttered, as she shot Anne a look. Anne shrugged. How could they say no, with Sir Nicholas looking at them so hopefully? Besides, a deathday party sounded intriguing. 

“Of  course we’ll be there,” Diana said finally, her good manners overriding her lack of desire. “Thank you for the invitation, Nearly, I mean, Sir Nicholas.” 

“Diana,” Anne heard Ruby hiss. 

“He’s your house ghost Ruby,” Diana hissed back. Sir Nicholas didn’t appear to have heard. 

“Wonderful! Then I shall see all three of you there - in the dungeons, right after the Halloween Feast! Don’t forget!” 

“How do you even celebrate your death?” Ruby groaned. Anne just shook her head, to excited to speak. 

*

“Oh. This is how you celebrate your death,” Ruby said flatly a few nights later, as the three of them stared around the dungeon. It was done up like a medieval tea time, but all the decor was in a gloomy black and grey, mist clinging to everything. 

“I think it looks wonderful. Very topic appropriate,” Anne approved. “Have you ever seen so many ghosts? Think of all the stories they could share!” Linking their arms, Anne pulled them into the room. 

“Good thing we ate before we came,” Diana said as they passed one of the tea tables. The biscuits set out were covered in mold and the smell from the teapot was nauseating. The three of them gagged as a particularly strong whiff came their way.

“I suppose it’s only to be expected,” Anne gasped out as they hurried away. “For a ghost party, for the food to be rotten.” 

“It’s freezing in here,” Ruby whispered, shuffling closer to Anne. “And I don’t see any other humans! Didn’t he say professors were coming?”

“Maybe they haven’t arrived yet,” Diana offered. They all flinched as Peeves swooped down at them, cackling. 

“Oh Anne, please don’t make us stay long,” Ruby begged. Anne had to admit this wasn’t quite the adventure she had imagined. 

“We at least have to wish Sir Nicholas a many happy - deathday,” Anne finished lamely. She scolded herself at using such a poor phrase. She would need to be more poetic when she actually saw him. “And let me at least try to talk to some of the ghosts, there are some we’ve never seen before. They may have lead the most fascinating lives!” 

Ruby and Diana looked at each other in resignation. It would be at least an hour before they could drag Anne away. 

One hour turned out to be over two before Diana put her foot down and pointed out that curfew would be soon. As Ruby had guessed, no professors had ever shown up at the party, which meant no escort if they were caught by prefects after hours. 

“Wasn’t that just thrilling!” Anne asked happily as they hurried through the halls. “Can you believe one of the ladies there actually knew Joan of Arc? And the Fat Friar remembers every one of his students, and was telling me oh so many stories. He knew who I was too, he kept calling me ‘Matthew and Marilla’s girl.’” 

It was true that all the ghosts had been rather enamoured with Anne, which Ruby and Diana were perfectly ok with. They were happy to let Anne be the center of attention as they huddled behind her in a miserable attempt to keep warm, and let Anne carry the conversation. Ruby was clearly uncomfortable with talking to dead people, and Diana shared in her awkwardness, particularly at such an event. Diana had only ever tried speaking to the Ravenclaw ghost once, and the look she had received was so haughty she didn’t dare try again. 

“They seemed to like you a lot,” Diana smiled at Anne, and really how could they not? Anne was so lively that of course ghosts would be drawn to her. 

“I think this was the most splendid Halloween one could have,” Anne declared right before they had to split from Ruby. “I can’t imagine ever attending an event of the likes as we did tonight again, it was truly an once in a lifetime offer.”

“Does that mean next year we can just go to the feast?” Ruby asked hopefully. 

“Oh Ruby how can you even say that? Didn’t it send a thrill through you to hear all those stories?” 

“All the ghosts live in the castle, Anne,” Diana pointed out. “I’m sure they’d could talk to you at any time.” 

Anne brightened at the idea. “That’s a magnificent idea Diana! We can interview them for story club, to help our own ideas be more true to the tale, instead of the imagined ideal!” 

“Oh, well-” That hadn’t been quite what Diana meant, but Anne was already caught up in the idea. Diana could practically hear her thoughts whirring. 

Well, Ruby had to get over her fear of ghosts eventually, Diana decided. At least this gave Anne something to focus on besides getting into more trouble. 

*** 

The snow started to fall early that year, a few days into November, and the whole castle succumbed quickly to the urge of relaxing by the fire and daydreaming about the holidays that were still weeks away, instead of their usual studies. The enchanted knights were caught humming Christmas songs as early as November 16th, and even the first quidditch match offered little distraction from fantasies about hung garland and shiny baubles. 

Even Headmaster Twycross seemed impatient for the holiday season to arrive, and as such asked Matthew to fetch evergreens for the Great Hall three weeks early. 

“We won’t decorate them until December, but they might, ah, spruce up the place nicely,” he had said slyly to Marilla. Marilla had politely looked away to hide her grimace. 

Naturally, Matthew sent word through Marilla to Anne and Jerry, inviting them to help him pick out the trees. They practically raced each other to the forest, throwing snowballs back and forth at each other, Marilla’s warnings to stay warm left behind. 

The task was a lengthy one. They had a dozen trees to pick out, and even those that fit Matthew’s well developed standards were met with high critique from Anne and Jerry, who took their tasks very seriously. 

“We need one as lovely as to house a dryad,” Anne kept insisting, to Jerry and Matthew’s shared bewilderment. 

“I love the forest in the snow,” Anne said dreamily as they took a short break. Matthew had brought along hot cocoa in a magically heated thermos that they were sipping slowly. Eight trees were floating eerily behind them, making Anne think about dancing dryads and enchanted trees. 

“It’s too quiet,” Jerry disagreed, looking around at the trees uneasily. “No animals, no leaves blowing. Its strange, like nothing is alive. ” 

“The forest is full of life,” Anne frowned. “Look at how the branches dance, or the snow is sparkling.

“None of that makes any sense,” Jerry shook his head. “Or makes any noise.”

“I - I suppose you could, could always sing something,” Matthew suggested. “Fill up the silence.”

“Oh Matthew no, ” Anne moaned as Jerry grinned. 

“Il etait une bergere, et ron ron ron petit patapon!”

***

Gilbert Blythe’s third year at Hogwarts was like a wizard’s first broom ride, full of ups and downs. 

Yes, it was fun to start the new classes, like Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies, and being able to explore Hogsmeade was a fun bonus. But the reminder that his Dad was ill was like a constant itch in the back of his mind, popping up at any moment. 

Gilbert felt like he was living from letter to letter sometimes, unable to breathe properly until he saw that constant post script in each letter. There, written in his father’s heavy, dependable strokes were the words assuring him that John Blythe was doing ok, that the illness wasn’t getting any worse and he suspected that he would be on the mend by springtime. They were like a balm to Gilbert’s ever worried mind. 

He did his best to distract himself in the meantime, busying himself with classes, hanging out and playing quidditch with Charlie, games of exploding snap and potions club. Charms classes was his favorite distraction by far though. There, he threw himself into the apparent competition that had sprung up between him and Anne, enjoying each victory and loss alike. 

One Tuesday, Gilbert felt more inclined to show off than usual. He had caught sight of Anne in the Great Hall earlier, charming singing snowflakes for her and her group of friends to giggle at, and had felt such a sudden rush of admiration that he had to prove he could keep up. 

So, during Charms club, when they had a competition to see who could name the most spells, Gilbert gave it his all, beating out even the fourth and fifth years. 

Yet Anne kept up with him, spurred on by the cheers of Diana, Ruby and the rest of the girls in the club. Prissy Andrews was smiling radiantly. The boys all rooted for Gilbert, with the Ravenclaws looking torn between encouraging their housemate or siding with the rest of the boys. 

Finally, nearly ten minutes after everyone else had dropped out, Gilbert managed to eke out a victory. The boys rioted in jubilation, as the girls consoled Anne. As Prissy Andrews tried to quiet them all, reminding them they only had one more meeting before they would take a break for exams, Gilbert noticed Anne slipping out of the classroom. Without thinking twice, Gilbert followed her. 

Knowing from experience that calling her name would do nothing but make Anne speed up, especially given he just beat her, Gilbert decided to get creative. With a wave and a whisper, Anne’s schoolbag, already mostly patches and sewed up tears, split. The contents spilled across the floor, and the redheaded girl let out a loud frustrated noise. 

Gilbert hurried over, bending down to grab the quills that were rolling down the corridor. 

“Here, let me help,” he said, mustering as much charm as he could, handing her the quills. Anne glanced up at him. He saw her eyes land on his wand and narrow in suspicion. Too late, he stowed it away, bending down to pick up some of her things. 

“Congratulations, by the way,” Gilbert offered. “You really gave me a run for my galleons back there. Most purebloods couldn’t even do as well as you did.” He hoped that would win Anne over, given how passionate she had been about that in September. Anne didn’t say anything though, and Gilbert merely redoubled his efforts to help her pick everything up. 

Anne tried to snatch everything up first, but there was simply too much. Gilbert was carefully stacking her textbooks, smiling at the number of bookmarks sticking out of each one, when he saw her latest transfiguration essay sticking out of one. The mark was surprisingly low - not awful, not even bad, but certainly lower than what Anne usually received.  

“Shrinking charms,” he read out neutrally. Anne looked up and tensed when she saw what he was holding. “I remember trying to learn those, they’re difficult.” Anne made a move to grab the book but Gilbert straightened up before she could. Anne followed suit and he made a show of holding the books out politely. But when she reached out to take them, he didn’t let go. 

“I did pretty well with the shrinking spells,” Gilbert said, earnesty bleeding through every word. “I would be happy to help you, if you’re having trouble with them.” 

“ Help me?” Anne repeated quietly. 

“Well, I am the best in the year at Transfiguration.” 

Anne stared at him in disbelief. Gilbert tried what was his most harmless looking smile. 

Slowly, deliberately, Anne looked down at where Gilbert’s wand was stowed, to her ripped bag and her belongings still scattered around the floor, then finally to the books and essay still held hostage in Gilbert’s grip. Her face looked strangely flushed, and her eyes looked colder in this light. 

“I can fix your bag, too,” Gilbert offered, which was only fair as he had been the one to rip it. “The spell is a bit tricky-” 

Anne exploded. “ The audacity!” she yelled, throwing her books to the floor and glaring up at Gilbert. “ I AM AT A LOSS FOR WORDS!” 

Despite being at a loss for words, Anne proceeded to yell at Gilbert for the next ten minutes. 

***

“Jerry,” Diana caught up to her Hufflepuff friend after history of magic one day. 

“Hey Diana,” Jerry said, adjusting his robe clasp quickly. 

“ Anne dit que tu pouve parler francais?” Diana asked, carefully enunciate each word. Her mother had told her several times that summer that her pronunciation had dropped in quality after being at Hogwarts for a year. 

Jerry gaped at her. 

“ Tu parle francias?!” Jerry demanded. 

“ Oui, ma mere m’a appris,” Diana answered smoothly. “ Mais je n’ai personne avec qui practiquer ici a Hogwarts.” 

“ Toute ma famille parle francais,” Jerry said, his voice wistful. “ Ca ma manque.” 

“Va-tu les voir a Noel?” Diana asked. She saw a few students looking at them quizzically as they passed together in the hall, but Diana ignored them. It wasn’t like any of them could understand what they were saying, and it was entirely innocent, besides. 

“ Non, je reste avec les Cuthberts,” Jerry muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ils ne peuvent pas aller a London.” He suddenly looked embarrassed, and Diana realized with new appreciation how different their upbringings were. Jerry’s family was far from the type of people Diana’s family were friends with.  But Diana didn’t really care about any of that.  Not when she finally had someone to speak french with. 

“ Pratique avec moi?” She requested. “ Ton accent est tellement meilleur que le mein.” 

“Oui,” Jerry beamed at her. 

“Jerry, stop annoying Diana,” Anne fell into step with them. 

“He’s not annoying me,” Diana assured her. 

“ Si quelque chose que tu nous ennuye,” Jerry stuck his tongue out at Anne, flicking her braid. 

“ Hush,” Diana said even as she giggled. Anne swatted Jerry’s hand away. 

“What did you just say, Jerry Baynard? Diana, what did he say? Diana!” 

***

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert had spent the majority of her life in a drafty asylum, and the rest of it in and out of small, over-crowded houses that hardly felt like homes. It had taken all of her imagination just to make those places bearable, with little left over to try and add a spin of adventure to her life.

So, now that she was living in a magical castle full of ghosts, hidden passage ways, and thousands of secrets, Anne was making up for those years of lost adventures. She had made it a goal to explore every inch of Hogwarts, knocking along walls for false passages and peering into every nook and cranny, from the dungeons to the Astronomy tower. These explorations happened sporadically, sometimes when the whim of adventure pulled at her soul and sang to her blood. They were successful from time to time – she and Jerry had found a hidden passage behind a statue of Gregory the Smarmy. They had walked the passage for a while, but gave up after twenty minutes, deciding to come back during a holiday break.

Other times, Anne preferred to wander the castle alone, lost inside her own head.   Anne had a lot of thoughts and dreams that felt too big sometimes for her own body, and she found walking the labyrinth corridors helped sort through them.

It was the latter type of wandering that lead Anne to finding the Hogwarts kitchens in December. Matthew’s little riddle, so confusing at the time, fell into place almost instantly once she saw the picture. 

Anne hadn’t actually met any house elves before- she knew the Barry’s had one, and Diana had explained what they were, but Nubbins, the Barry’s house elf, never seemed to be around when Anne was. Diana said he was shy, and usually kept out of sight. 

Meeting the Hogwarts house elves had been nothing like Anne had expected. From Diana’s description, Anne had thought their lives sounded too much like her own time in service and couldn’t imagine that they were truly happy. But the joy and warmth that flooded through the kitchens every time she entered (which was frequent in the weeks following her discovery) proved her wrong. 

“We house-elves are happy to be here at Hogwarts,” Anne had heard them say, over and over again. “We likes taking care of all the young masters and mistressess learning magic.” 

Anne had been taken in with the house-elves’ cheerful and hardworking nature right away, and it wasn’t long before the house-elves were equally fond of her. She had offended a few her second time visiting, when she asked if she could help with the baking, and it took her her most poetic apologies until she felt they had forgiven her. That didn’t stop her from asking again, this time picking her words more carefully and stressing that she wanted them to teach her to bake, not help. Even so, it took several tries and wasn’t until she mentioned it was a surprise for Matthew and Marilla that they agreed. 

“It’s for the Master and Mistress Cuthbert?” A house-elf named Pippet had asked, eyes wide. “Of course we will help you! The Cuthberts are always so wonderful and kind to us house-elves.” 

Anne’s popularity among the elves, already high, only grew once they learned she was the Cuthbert’s adopted daughter. Anne was welcomed with shouts of joy anytime she visited the kitchens after that. She became particular friends with Pippet and Liddy, who was the one teaching Anne how to bake. Pippet said he was helping as well, though he was more often trying to sneak a taste from Liddy’s bowl or distract Anne with conversation. Liddy had a habit of whacking him with a spoon whenever he got too close to her bowl, to Anne’s amusement. 

“Go do your work and stop slacking off, Pippet!” Liddy scolded one day after his fifth attempt to steal the berries they were using to make scones. “

“Pippet would never!” Pippet squeaked, his eyes going impossibly wide. “Pippet is helping Miss Anne, like he was asked to do!” 

“You is distracting Miss Anne!” 

“Oh no, he isn’t,” Anne said hurriedly as Pippet’s whole body deflated. “He can stay Liddy, really, I like to hear his stories.” 

Pippet puffed his chest out proudly as Liddy shook her head in exasperation. Anne hadn’t been lying, Pippet knew lots of stories about Hogwarts and her students, which he was more than happy to share with Anne. Besides, she had a fond spot for him. Once he learned she had been adopted by the Cuthberts, he had taken her to meet Old Yin by the grand fireplace. Old Yin was retired now (or as retired as a house-elf could be, Anne supposed) but he had worked at Hogwarts since Marilla and Matthew themselves had been students. He was mostly blind, but his voice was strong, and he had sat with Anne for nearly an hour, sharing tales of Matthew’s own time hiding in the kitchens, and the scrapes Michael was always getting into. Anne had never dared ask Marilla or Matthew about their older brother, and so she held those stories close to her heart, in honor of one who might have been like an uncle in another life. 

“Pippet be careful you don’t get the flour in Miss Anne’s hair!” Liddy was saying a few minutes later, when Pippet became a little too enthusiastic in wanting to help. 

“Oh it doesn’t matter Liddy,” Anne wrinkled her nose in distaste as she looked down at her braids. “My hair is already a bane on my existence, a little white might actually make it bearable instead of just this awful red.”

“Miss Anne’s hair isn’t awful!” Liddy cried, then looked stricken that she had contradicted Anne. “I mean, I am so sorry, Miss Anne-” 

“Liddy, please don’t apologize!” Anne clasped Liddy’s small hand in her own. “We agreed, remember, you can call me “Miss” but no more apologies, okay?” 

“That isn’t right,” Liddy grumbled, but she nodded. Anne smiled. That had been a hard won battle of its own right. 

“Anne?” A very human voice rang through the kitchens and Anne spun around, nearly dropping the dough. 

Marilla had just entered the kitchens. The house-elves all greeted her cheerfully, a few swarming around her but Marilla was staring at Anne in shock.

“Marilla!” Anne said, flustered. She was very conscientious of the flour streaked across her arms and face, her sleeves rolled up and the few strands of hair falling into her face. There was no question as to what she had been doing, but Anne could only hope Marilla wouldn’t look too closely. She did so want to surprise her and Matthew with her baking skills over the Christmas holidays. “What are you doing here?” 

“ I am consulting with the house-elves on Saturday’s dinner, which I am supposed to be doing.” Marilla said dryly, handing off her basket and shawl to an awaiting house-elf. “I think you’ll find the real question here, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, is what you are doing in the kitchens!”

“I - uh-” Anne stuttered to find an answer that didn’t give away her surprise. Unfortunately for Anne, Pippet was all too eager to answer. 

“We has been helping Miss Anne with baking, Mistress Cuthbert!” Pippet said proudly. 

“Pippet!” Liddy whacked him with the spoon. “It’s a surprise remember?” 

“Helping with baking?” Marilla repeated, taken aback. “Anne, you shouldn’t be bothering the house-elves.” She admonished sternly. “I’m sure they have lots of work they need to be doing, not being distracted with your whims-.”

“I’m not bothering them, truly Marilla I’m not!” Anne said, stricken that Marilla would think she was capable of such a thing. 

“Miss Anne is never a bother!” Liddy and Pippet rushed to her defense, and several of the other elves hurried to voice their agreement. “She is always speaking most kindly to us, and insisting that she clean up her messes and never ordering us about.”

“And asking about us and our stories!” Pippet added. 

“And Miss Anne’s dorm is always neat, never a problem!” A house-elf named Ottar piped up. “We is always happy to see her!” 

Marilla blinked in surprise at their fervent manner. Anne flushed under her small friends’ praise. 

She always was so surprised whenever someone complimented or defended her, Marilla’s heart gave a small pang. She looked down at the table where Liddy and Anne had been working, Liddy’s perfectly shaped scones next to Anne’s own attempts. Marilla hadn’t known Anne was interested in baking. Marilla would have been happy to teach her. 

Anne was graciously thanking Liddy and Pippet for their words, sounding close to tears. Marilla was tempted to roll her eyes at the dramatics. The deep appreciation by the house-elves at Anne’s thanks hadn’t gone unnoticed by her though. 

Marilla wasn’t truly surprised by that. Anne was just the sort of person the house-elves would take to, and her own upbringing made her deeply respectful of them. Of course they would happily take her under their wing whenever Anne wandered into the kitchen. 

Still, Marilla couldn’t just let this go without some sort of admonishment. She was a member of staff, after all, and Anne’s guardian. 

“Anne, you do realize students are not allowed in the kitchens, right?” Marilla raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” The shock on Anne’s face told Marilla that Anne had indeed not been aware of that little fact. “But than why did Matthew-” Anne cut herself off, but Marilla had already caught the slip. 

Really, she was going to have words with that brother of hers! 

“Miss Anne can’t visit us anymore?” Pippet asked, his voice small. Liddy and Ottar gasped. A few of the other house-elves looked equally distressed. Marilla realized that the kitchen was completely devoid of the usual hustle and bustle. Each house elf had stopped at the revelation that Anne wasn’t allowed to be in the kitchens, turning distressed faces toward Marilla. Anne herself was giving Marilla her most pleading look. 

Really, now, Marilla sighed. How did Anne manage these types of things? 

“I suppose she can join me whenever I need to come to the kitchens, as long as it doesn’t interfere with her schoolwork,” Marilla relented. 

Her words were met with resounding delight. 

“Thank you very much, Mistress Cuthbert!” Pippet grinned, his mouth stained with berries. 

Liddy whacked him with a spoon.

***

Christmas that year was a quieter affair than the year before, since there wasn’t as much to do to settle Anne into the world of magic. Green Gables was more full than ever though, with both Anne and Jerry staying there, and the holiday was full of good cheer. Anne’s baking managed to be a surprise after all, and was enthusiastically approved by Matthew and Jerry. Anne received a new scarf from Marilla, and even a handwritten Christmas card from Jerry, who received a sisterly kiss on the cheek and a plate full of cookies and fudge just for him in response. He also got a scarf from Marilla, yellow and black to Anne’s blue and bronze. As a joke they switched scarves whenever they went out, and Marilla borrowed the Lynde’s camera to take a photo of them unexpectedly one day, covered in snow from playing and in the wrong scarves, faces flushed with joy. The photo was placed next to the one of the Cuthbert siblings on the mantle. 

It was Matthew who took the cake with presents that year though. For Jerry, he had given a set of chaser gloves. Jerry had hardly been able to stammer out his thanks, trying them on immediately. Matthew had just chuckled and tousled his hair cautiously. As for Anne, well, her wildest dreams came true when she opened a large package to find a set of sky blue dress robes with wonderfully puffed sleeves. Anne couldn’t stop thanking Matthew for the rest of the  day. 

“Foolishness,” Marilla had said at the time, though she had readily helped Anne try it on, fussing with her hair. 

“You’ll spoil them,” Marilla told Matthew later, after they had sent the children to bed. Her heart didn’t really seem in it though. 

“Well, it is Christmas,” was all Matthew said in response. 

The rest of the break passed happily, with Anne indeed visiting the Barry’s to call on Diana and Aunt Josephine quite a few times at the older woman’s insistence. The time off school was so pleasurable that Anne almost felt disappointed when the time came for Jerry and Anne to repack their trunks and make the walk back to the castle. 

The knowledge that their first day back began with double transfiguration in the morning did nothing to improve Anne’s mood. Professor Phillips was far from Anne’s favorite teacher at Hogwarts, as he was always short with any students’ who struggled and clearly favored the boys, those of his own house (Slytherin) in particular. He held a particular grudge against Anne, frequently deliberately referring to her as “Ms Shirley” despite her repeated corrections that it was “Shirley-Cuthbert.”

“I don’t understand why he’s a professor here if he hates children,” Anne complained one day. She, Diana and Jane were in the Great Hall with Ruby, Tilly and Josie. Josie wasn’t outwardly complaining about Anne’s presence at the Gryffindor table, but she also took great care not to speak to Anne directly. It was the closest the two managed to come to civil over the last few months, as Jane, Ruby and Tillie were insistent on being friends with both. 

“I heard he made Philippa, the second year hufflepuff, cry the other day because she couldn’t get a spell on the first try,” Tillie whispered. Josie snorted. 

“Of course she cried, she’s in Hufflepuff,” Josie sniffed. Anne gritted her teeth, but didn’t rise to the bait. 

“He is always telling Musa and I that our essays “lack depth,” Diana said. “Even when I know for a fact that Cephus in Slytherin only wrote half as much because he was too busy with quidditch practice to finish.” 

“He never has a problem with you Jane,” Ruby pointed out, and they all looked over at the brunette. “Never once has he yelled at you in class.” 

“That’s just because of Prissy and Billy,” Jane said, rolling her eyes. “They’re two of his favourite students, heaven knows why.” 

“Probably because Billy’s a beater on the Slytherin team,” Josie said. 

“That’s hardly a good reason to favor someone like Billy,” Anne muttered, cutting into her potato savagely. Josie just rolled her eyes, though Jane looked like she was in agreement. Billy’s treatment of Anne had only increased since she had covered him in boils, and it was an awkward subject among the girls. Jane seemed inclined to side with Anne, occasionally even tattling to Prissy, up until Anne would do anything in retaliation. Family was family, after all. 

“But Prissy isn’t in Slytherin,” Tilly frowned. “So why favor her?”

“Prissy’s smart,” Anne said - she had a deep admiration of the older girl, a prefect and top of charms in the fifth year class. “She must be as good at transfiguration as she is at charms, especially if Professor Phillips is tutoring her for her OWLs.” Anne took a hearty bite of her eggs and potatoes, oblivious to the confusion her words were met with. 

“Professor Phillips is tutoring Prissy?” Diana repeated, looking at both Jane and Anne as if unsure who to direct the question to. Jane looked as lost as the others did. 

“Prissy didn’t say anything, but she has been gone from the common room a lot lately,” Jane said thoughtfully. “I just thought it was for prefect duties.” 

“He must be,” Anne said, certain she was right. “I saw them in the transfiguration classroom the other day, just the two of them, right before dinner. He was right next to her; he must have been correcting her wand movement or something.” 

A nearby Gryffindor sixth year suddenly started choking on his juice, drawing all of their attention as his friends loudly pounded his back. 

“You need to lie him down, then press on his back,” Anne instructed them. “It clears the airways faster.” 

This was met with doubting looks, but Anne’s blue and bronze robes preceded her, and they obeyed readily enough. The choking abated immediately. 

“Really, it’s amazing the things muggles know that wizards’ don’t,” Anne muttered so that only Diana could hear. 

“So I guess that’s where Prissy has been spending all of her time,” Jane said, continuing their earlier subject. “Shame, I was hoping she had picked up a secret beau.” Jane’s eyes sparked with mischief as the group was overcome with giggles. 

The conversation soon turned to other matters, and the subject of Professor Phillips tutoring Prissy was forgotten. 

None of the girls noticed the outbreak whispers that made its way up and down the Gryffindor table, nor when several Gryffindors leaned over to the Hufflepuff table to whisper conspiratorially. 

***

“Why are you three supporting Hufflepuff?” Musa raised a brow at Diana and Anne’s yellow and black banner as he and Cetus squeezed into the stands next to them and Jane. 

“I am not with them,” Jane said firmly. She had been very adamant about that ever since she saw the banner that morning. 

“Why shouldn’t we be?” Anne asked, lifting her chin. 

“Because they’re playing Ravenclaw?” Cetus frowned. “You know, our house?” 

“Wait, we’re in Ravenclaw? ” Anne gasped in mock shock. “Diana did you know this? And all this time I thought this was Gryffindor. How silly.” 

“Anne,” Diana said, amused, as Cetus and Musa rolled their eyes good naturedly. “We’re also supporting Ravenclaw,” she assured them. “Watch,” Diana nudged Anne, who tapped the banner obligingly. It changed to the appropriate Ravenclaw blue and bronze. 

“How did you do that?” Cetus gaped. “We haven’t learned colour changing charms yet.” 

“Anne figured it out!” Diana beamed. “Isn’t it brilliant?” 

“Show me later?” Cetus pleaded, and Anne agreed readily. 

“You still haven’t explained why you’re supporting Hufflepuff in the first place,” Musa was not as readily placated with new spells. 

“It’s more of we’re supporting Jerry,” Diana explained. “It’s his first quidditch game, and as his friends we should support him.” 

“He’s going to be totally annoying about it,” Anne shook her head. “I bet he won’t shut up about it for weeks.”

“It was your idea, Anne!” Diana reminded her. Anne just stuck out her tongue. 

“They’re coming out!” Someone in the stands yelled, and Anne tapped the banner again, returning it to the bright yellow and black, Go Jerry Go! flashing brightly. 

“He doesn’t look nervous,” Diana whispered to Anne as they watched Jerry walk down with the rest of the team. One of the other chaser’s had thrown an arm around him, and it looked like they were all laughing at a joke. Indeed, no one on the Hufflepuff team looked nervous at all. 

“It was a different story last night,” Anne whispered back. “I almost sent him to Madam Edgecomb for a calming draft.” Truthfully, Anne had felt slightly gratified that Jerry had sought her out for reassurance last night. They hadn’t been able to spend as much time together recently- Jerry’s quidditch schedule kept him busy, and with his addition to the Hufflepuff quidditch team, he had finally started to connect more with his housemates. He hit off well with one of the other chasers, a fourth year, and the third year beater. Anne had spotted him hanging out more with Moody and Antares from their year as well. 

It seemed she was no longer Jerry’s only friend, and she was a bit surprised that thought was both comforting and a little sad. 

Far below, Jerry spotted them in the stands and beamed up, waving enthusiastically before the Hufflepuff keeper knocked him the shoulder to get him to stop waving at the competition’s house. 

The game began with gusto, and Anne did her best to remember it all so as to relay it to Matthew and Marilla at the first opportunity. 

It was nearly 30 minutes before anyone was able to score, and Diana and Anne both screamed with delight when Jerry successfully feinted Ravenclaw’s keeper and hit the quaffle through the middle hoop. 

“TEN POINTS TO HUFFLEPUFF” the announcer yelled as the whole of Ravenclaw house groaned. 

“Wooo! Go Jerry!!” Anne whooped, holding her banner higher. 

“ Anne.” 

***

Anne wasn’t sure what triggered it, but Billy seemed even angrier with her as January turned into February. She was hit by a tripping jinx no less than three times on her way to class, and one morning found a Howler awaiting her that did nothing but bark loudly at her, for all the hall to hear. Professor Twycroft set it on fire before it was finished, but not before the whole of the school heard it. 

Not even the library was safe, as Anne returned to her table after putting a book back to find all of her things missing. They didn’t turn up until three hours later, outside, drenched from rain and half of them broken. 

Billy was being unusually sneaky about it, being careful to never be in sight when these incidents occurred, so Anne and Diana had no proof it was him. After the incident with her schoolbag and the howler, not even Jane could deny that something had to be done. She had approached Prissy, but the older girl was unusually cold about the matter. 

“If Anne doesn’t have proof, than we don’t know it’s Billy,” Prissy had told Jane, not even looking at Anne. “You can’t just go around accusing people of things and ruining their reputations, Jane, and especially not our brother .” 

“I don’t know what’s going on with her,” Jane whispered to Anne later. “She’s never that snappy with me. She got a letter from Mum and Dad last week, and she’s been acting strange ever since. I think she’s been skipping meals too. Must be OWL stress.” 

Anne could attest to that; Prissy hadn’t gone to charms club since January. Still, her sudden cold behavior toward Anne made the whole common room feel uncomfortable. She and Diana started doing their homework in Gryffindor tower instead, to avoid any possible run ins with the older Andrew siblings. As Valentine’s day approached though, Ruby became less of a study partner and more of a distraction as she dithered on whether or not to send Gilbert Blythe a Valentine’s day card. 

After a week of this, desperate to get some work done without the distraction of Ruby’s love life or the threat of Billy Andrews stealing her things, Anne begged Marilla and Matthew to let her visit on Saturday in order to finish her transfiguration essay. Marilla agreed under the condition that Anne help Matthew with the chores before going back. 

“It’s been the most exhausting week,” Anne told Marilla as she sat at the kitchen table, glaring at her essay. “Why everyone is all in a tither about this silly Valentines’ Day I will never know.” 

“I would have thought you’d be excited about it, given your usual attitude toward anything even slightly “romantical,” Marilla said. “It seems the sort of thing I would usually have to tell you to calm down about.” 

“Well not this year,” Anne said crossly. “I am absolutely not in the mood, especially if Ruby is going to keep up her obsessions about Gil- about her crush for the next ten days.” 

“I’m sure she’ll calm down,” Marilla assured her. “I’m glad to see you being practical about such things for once.” 

“It’s a muggle holiday anyway,” Anne continued her rant. “Why do wizards celebrate it? They usually avoid all things muggle related.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working on your essay?” Marilla asked, raising an eyebrow. “You best be done by the time Matthew returns so you can help him with his chores.” 

“Where is Matthew anyway?” Anne asked, dipping her quill back into the inkwell. 

“He went into Dufftown to pick up more owl feed for the school owls,” Marilla said. “He was going to stop by the Gringots branch there as well. ” 

“Why’s that?” Anne asked, looking up. 

“Essay!” Marilla snapped her finger at the parchment and Anne sighed heavily. 

“How can you expect me to concentrate on my essay when I’m wondering now about Matthew’s adventures ? ” Anne pleaded. “ Please Marilla?” 

“He’s running some errands, hardly some grand quest,” Marilla shook her head, exasperated. “Green Gables is partially owned by investors because of the magical wildlife in the forest; Matthew has to stop by every so often and fill out paperwork.”

“I thought Green Gables belonged to the Cuthberts?” Anne frowned, trying to remember what Matthew had told her over a year ago when she first arrived. 

“Anne, why all the questions?” Marilla sighed. “I thought you came here to be away from distractions, not distract yourself.” 

“I’m sorry Marilla,” Anne said, the picture of contriteness. “I just don’t know how banks and land and such works, and I am ever so curious.” 

“Oh I am well aware of your curiosity,” Marilla remarked. “I confess I don’t know much of it myself Anne, Matthew has always handled that part. You’ll have to ask him.” 

“I’ll do that,” Anne resolved. “As soon as he gets home.” 

“ Essay, Anne.” Anne buckled down at Marilla’s tone. 

It was nearly twilight when Matthew finally returned, far too late for Anne to stay and help with chores. Anne had finished her essay hours earlier and helped Marilla make scones and biscuits. As it got later, both were starting to grow uneasy, although neither said anything. Anne kept finding excuses to help so she could stay longer, and Marilla accepted them without argument. When the door swung open and Matthew entered, there was a palpable sigh of relief from both. 

“For Merlin’s sake Matthew, we were starting to worry,” Marilla scolded as Matthew walked heavily into the room. “What took you so long?” 

Matthew didn’t say anything. His hands gripped the back of his chair, as if to keep him upright. 

“Matthew?” Marilla sounded worried again. Matthew’s expression was blank, as if he didn’t really see them there. 

“What’s happened?” Anne said, frightened. She remembered how sick Matthew had been last year. What if was happening again? 

“The - the investors,” Matthew stammered out, struggling to speak. “They fell to some scam. All the money, is, is gone.” 

Marilla let out a horrified gasp, hands flying to her mouth in shock. Anne felt something cold gather in her stomach. 

“What does that mean?” She whispered, looking between the two siblings. Neither of them answered, deaf to the question. 

“Marilla!” Anne’s voice broke on the name, fear rising in her as she watched the siblings. “What does this mean?”

“They can’t pay the bank statements on Green Gables,” Marilla said softly, clutching at her handkerchief. “The bank will collect on the collateral.” 

“What’s the collateral?” Anne asked, her mind imagining all sorts of horrors. 

“Green Gables,” Matthew said heavily. Anne’s head spun. 

“You mean- they can take away our home?! ” Anne’s voice rose sharply, but she had no control over it. She felt like the room was too heavy to breathe. This was her home, her first real home, it was supposed to be safe. ” Anne looked at Marilla, waiting for her to tell her she had misunderstood, but Marilla just pulled her close, folding her into an embrace. 

“It-it won’t come to that,” Matthew said suddenly. He nodded to himself, as if such an action would bring truth to his words. “I’ll figure something out with the bank, I will.” 

 “We have enough saved to last us until through the Spring, anyways,” Marilla said, smoothing down Anne’s hair. “It’s a bump in the road Anne, but we’ll deal with it, don’t you worry. Now, let’s you and I give Matthew some time to rest. Best you be getting back up to the castle.” Anne let Marilla shoo her into her wraps. 

“Will it really be okay?” Anne asked Marilla as they trudged through the slush on the ground. 

“Have some faith Anne,” Marilla said comforting. “It will all work out in the end.” 

And because it was Marilla, Anne couldn’t help but believe her. 

***

Gilbert winced as the latest parchment ball hit the side of his eye. 

“Gillll-bert,” Charlie whined. “We’ve been in here for hours bud, put the homework down for a little while.” 

“Maybe you should pick yours up,” Gilbert said pointedly, glancing at where Charlie’s textbooks say, unopened for the last hour. 

“My mind can’t take any more work,” Charlie shook his head. “Between the teachers and our quidditch captain I’ve been run ragged.” 

“Such a hard life,” Gilbert commented dryly. Charlie threw another pen at him. 

“It is, when even one’s best friend ignores him for something written over a hundred years ago.” 

“Fine,” Gilbert sighed in defeat. He knew when he was beaten. “A twenty minute break, Charlie, no longer.” 

“Forty.”

“Thirty and no more.” 

  “Deal,” Charlie grinned. “That’s what I wanted anyway.” 

“Which one of us is in Slytherin again?” Gilbert shook his head, amused at his friend’s antics.  “Honestly, Charlie, sometimes it feels like I’m more suited to Ravenclaw than you.”

“Hey! Don’t be switching houses just because we have more points than you,” Charlie grinned. 

“And just how is Ravenclaw ahead by so much?” Gilbert teased. “I know it’s not because of you slackers in third year.” 

“We don’t need to,” Charlie smirked. “Anne, that red-headed second year, brings in like twenty-five points a day all by herself. She more than makes up for the rest of us.” 

Gilbert shook his head. Personally, he wondered what Anne’s reaction would be if she heard any Ravenclaws trying to coast on her success. Probably something suitably dramatic, he decided, smiling to himself. 

“You have a date for Hogsmeade this weekend?” Charlie asked, settling back into his chair. 

“Why would I have a date for Hogsmeade?” Gilbert looked at his friend, genuinely puzzled. 

“Uh, because it’s Valentine’s day?” Charlie said, as if it were obvious. “Everyone has a date.”

“You don’t,” Gilbert pointed out. 

“Actually, I do,” Charlie said proudly. Gilbert stared at him. Since when did Charlie have a date? Nothing against his friend, of course, but he was so - Charlie. Also, Gilbert had assumed he was hanging out with Charlie at Hogsmeade. What would he do now? 

“Hester, Geraint and I are all meeting the three third year Ravenclaw girls at Madam Puddifoot’s in the afternoon,” Charlie’s cheeks turned a little red. “We made the plans two nights ago.” 

Gilbert couldn’t help a small snort escaping him. Charlie’s explanation shed a lot of light on the situation. “That’s not a date, that’s a group hangout between both genders,” Gilbert said dismissively. 

“It is so a date!” Charlie argued, sitting up in his chair. “We have a plan. After tea we’re going to walk with the girls back to the castle, and space it out to give us a little privacy. I’m taking Mary Jo. Then, when we’re alone,” Charlie paused, looking a little embarrassed. He leaned closer so that he could whisper. “I’m going to ask to kiss her.” 

Gilbert gave him a dry look. “Romantic,” he commented. 

“Gil-bert,” Charlie sighed, as if Gilbert’s lack of excitement about all of this was a heavy burden on him. “This is important. We’re 14! First kisses are expected.” 

“Isn’t it a bit forward?” Gilbert asked. “I mean, are you going to start courting Mary Jo?” 

Charlie coughed, eyes bugging out at that. “Merlin’s pants, no!” He yelped. “Courting is for the older kids, Gilbert, we’re not old enough for that.” 

“So you’re going on a date, and possibly kissing, but you’re not courting,” Gilbert said, wondering what crucial point he seemed to be missing. 

“Exactly!” Charlie looked relieved that he finally got it. 

“Alright,” Gilbert shook his head. “Well, good luck mate.” 

“So, how are you going to get your first kiss?” Charlie asked a beat later. 

“Haven’t really thought about it,” Gilbert said idly, playing with his quill. 

Apparently, this was the wrong answer. Charlie shook his head in exasperation. “Gilbert, you can’t just let this sort of thing wait around. Everyone in our grade is having their first kiss, you need to catch up!” Charlie’s eyes lit up. “I’ll help you!”

“Please don’t,” Gilbert begged. 

“Gilbert!” 

“Charlie!” Gilbert mocked. “I’m not really concerned with getting my first kiss right now, ok? It will happen when it happens.” 

“I dare you to kiss the next person who walks into the library,” Charlie said, leaning in and waggling his eyebrows. 

“Charlie, I’m not kissing anyone,” Gilbert rolled his eyes. 

“Wait, wait, the door is opening,” Charlie hissed, waving at him to be quiet. Gilbert rolled his eyes yet again, as they both watched the door open. 

Gilbert took in a sharp breath when none other than Anne Shirley-Cuthbert walked in. 

“Well, rules are rules,” Gilbert said, jumping out of his seat. 

“Wait, wha-” Charlie started behind him, but Gilbert was already striding over to where Anne was standing in the astronomy section. Two other girls had followed her in, Diana and a Gryffindor Gilbert was fairly certain was called Ruby. 

“Hello Anne,” Gilbert said, smiling charmingly. Anne gave him a flat look, while the Gryffindor, Ruby, let out a small squeak. 

Gilbert coughed, suddenly realizing he was way out of his depth. Was he really just going to try and kiss her? That would not help persuade her that they should be friends. He couldn’t explain that it was a dare either, that would hardly impress her. 

“I, uh, wanted to ask about charms club,” Gilbert improvised wildly. “It’s on Tuesday, right?” 

“It’s always on Tuesday,” Anne looked unimpressed. Gilbert winced. Merlin, this had gone so much smoother in his head. 

“Right! Yeah, I, uh-” He was floundering again. He could feel Charlie’s eyes watching him. “Are you three going to Hogsmeade?” 

“We’re second years,” Anne raised an eyebrow. 

Well, the ground could just swallow him whole now. 

“Oh, right,” Gilbert nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Do you have any other pointless questions?” Anne asked archly. Diana and Ruby looked scandalized. 

“Uh, no,” Gilbert said sheepishly. “I’ll see you in charms club?” 

“I suppose that can’t be avoided,” Anne sounded completely uninterested. 

“Right. Well. Bye,” Gilbert said lamely. 

“Bye!” Ruby piped up, smiling very widely. Well at least one of them didn’t hate him. Or was laughing at him. 

Gilbert slumped back to his seat, trying very hard not to think about what just happened. 

“Bud,” Charlie started, snickering. “You chicken out?” Gilbert just shook his head. 

“Let’s just get back to work,” he muttered. Suddenly the last thing he wanted to do was talk anymore about kissing. 

***

Whenever Diana got stressed, or restless, or needed to blow off steam, she flew. Her parents’ had never gotten her a broom of her own, as it wasn’t ladylike to fly everywhere, but Hogwarts had extra brooms in the broomshed for student use. 

As soon as the weather started turning warmer, and the gusty March winds died down slightly, Diana took any excuse to escape to the pitch and fly a few laps. Anne had become very adept at noticing the signs and was happy to sit and read in the stands as Diana flew. 

She had been flying more than probably necessary, Diana could admit that to herself. Lately, it was just the thought of a clear sky that brought to mind the feeling of zipping through the air, totally free. Truthfully, she shouldn’t be flying today - she wasn’t stressed, or angry about anything, and there was a transfiguration test the next day she should be studying for with Anne. But Diana hadn’t flown in nearly three days, and it was almost turning into a type of itch, waiting this long. 

It wasn’t good. She used to go weeks or even months without flying; now it was merely days. 

But Diana couldn’t bring herself to deny this feeling for the sake of propriety. The wind blowing past her ear, the thrill of a sharp dive, how the broom responded to her. It was if the broom were guided by her thoughts, instead of her hands. 

Diana bent low, speeding from one side of the pitch to the other. She could hear Anne shout something, a cheer most likely, but the wind was whistling too loudly for her to understand. Diana felt emboldened by it anyway. She dove into a loop, bringing herself up sharply in a spiral, laughing wildly. 

She flew for nearly thirty minutes before the wind chill began to make her hands shake.

Two more laps, she bargained, unwilling to head in just yet. She slowed down, wanting the moment to last. 

Someone flew up alongside her, matching her pace. Diana slowed, turning the broom to see what had joined her. 

It was another Ravenclaw, a fifth year named Henry. He was a beater on the Ravenclaw quidditch team. He motioned for her to stop, pulling up next to her. 

“How long have you been flying?” Henry demanded. 

“Since first year,” Diana shrugged. “I only started doing it more recently.” 

“You didn’t fly as a kid?” Henry said in disbelief. 

“My family aren’t big flyers,” Diana said in way of explanation. “I hardly ever was on a broom until I started Hogwarts.” 

“Incredible,” Henry muttered to himself, eyeing her speculatively. “Diana, right? Third year?”

“Second,” Diana corrected primly. 

Henry whistled, a thoughtful look crossing his face. 

“We’ll talk again,” Henry informed her, before zipping away. Diana watched him go, taken aback by the abrupt ending. 

“What do you think that was about?” She asked Anne after she had landed. 

“What what was about?” Anne gave her a blank look. 

“Henry,” Diana gestured to where he was still flying above them. 

“Oh - well,” Anne had the grace to look embarrassed. “Not that watching you isn’t thrilling Diana, really, it is, but I did reach the most exciting part in this book, and I just couldn’t help myself from falling full-heartedly into the tale, and well, suffice to say that it was just so fill to the brim with unexpected twists that I really couldn’t pay attention to anything around me at all-” 

“Yeah,” Diana said, glancing back at where Henry was soaring, free as a bird. She was only half listening to Anne’s rambles. “I don’t know either.” 

***

“What do you mean, only the boys can help build the boathouse?” Anne quirked an eyebrow at Professor Allen, crossing her arms tightly. 

“Oh boy,” Anne heard Jerry mutter from where he was already helping a group of Hufflepuffs structure the beams. Diana and Ruby both shuffled awkwardly beside her, as Jane gave an audible groan. 

“Building is hard work my dear, even with magic,” Professor Allen explained, with a sort of bemused smile. “And summoning charms are dangerous with some many around. We need the younger boys here to fetch things and hold things steady while the older ones use the sticking charm to bind it all together.” 

“And girls are incapable of carrying wood or holding things still?” Anne’s voice was rising alongside her temper. “We’re trusted to wave our wands around but somehow the concept of standing still and holding a pole in place is beyond us?” 

“She has a point, Professor Allen,” Diana chimed in, mimicking Anne’s pose. “It isn’t a very logical method. And the more help you have, the faster the work can be over.” 

Professor Allen sighed, as if Anne and Diana were a pair of exasperating toddlers that he had to explain why two and two were four to, and they were arguing that it was really five. 

Which, really, was a very unwarranted reaction. 

“While I’m sure your ability to hold poles in place is up to par, this is not a place for young ladies,” Professor Allen said in a tired voice. “There are all sorts of heavy objects and sharp tools lying around; it is much too dangerous to have young ladies underfoot.” 

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” Anne demanded, her voice cracking. 

“It means, Fido, that girls are weaker, stupid,” Billy Andrews scoffed, sneering down at them from the unfinished boathouse roof. 

“Oh shut up Billy,” Jane snapped, but Anne had already worked herself up into a state. 

“A girl is just as capable as a boy at doing any type of task!” She yelled at Billy, enraged.  “Probably even better than you, seeing as we actually have brains between our ears, unlike you!” Several of the older boys around Billy snickered at that, and the charms professor, Irving supervising them was clearly fighting back a smile. 

“She’s a feisty one, that’s for sure,” Jerry would later swear to Anne was what he overheard Irving say. 

Billy’s face was as red as Anne’s hair as everyone laughed at him. “Why don’t you just go braid daisy chains or whatever it is you girls do? Let us males do the actual work?” 

“Why don’t I come up there and show you how it’s actually done?” Anne retorted, earning several more laughs. 

“Miss Shirley-Cuthbert!” Professor Allen scolded. “That really is quite enough! Leave before I am forced to give all four of you detention for inappropriate conduct.”

Anne glowered but let herself be dragged away by Ruby and Diana. Neither of them wanted to risk a letter home about detention. Jane followed after a sullen glance to her brother. 

Anne’s rant lasted all the way back up to the castle, and well into the lunch hour. 

“The boathouse won’t even last a year,” Jerry confided to her in the greenhouse the next day. “Some of those boy’s sticking charms were truly horrendous. They should have just used daub, daub lasts for years.” 

“Not as easy as a sticking charm though,” Anne shook her head in commiseration. “At least they had the sense to use regular tools for the windows. Shattered glass is not fun.” 

“Don’t even remind me,” Jerry said in disgust. “Only about four of them knew what to do with those tools. Billy Andrews couldn’t even use a hammer. Wizards, I swear.”

“Wizards,” Anne sighed. 

***

Jerry and Anne both stayed at Green Gables over the Easter holidays, but the warm cheer that had been overflowing at Christmas was noticeably lacking now. Marilla and Matthew tried valiantly not to act any differently, going about their chores as usual, listening intently to Anne’s ramblings and Jerry’s tales of quidditch practice and tactics that went over everyone else’s head, but to the trained eye, the signs were there. Their smiles were a little tighter, Marilla sometimes was caught looking around her as if not quite sure where she was, and Matthew had a stack of papers in his room threatening to overflow onto his bed. 

Finally, on their fourth night, when dinner had yet again fallen into an unsettling silence following Anne’s update on her writing club, Marilla decided it was time to bite the bullet. 

“Anne, Jerry,” Marilla had said, with such a distanced, brisk tone that the two children stilled automatically. Jerry looked at Matthew, confused. Anne gripped her fork tight and refused to look away from Marilla. They both knew whatever was coming was not good. 

They were right. Marilla had done her best to deliver the news in her patented matter of fact tone, but nothing could soften the blow. 

No new investors had stepped forward for Green Gables, and the goblins refused them an extension on the debt. Unless a small miracle occured, they would have to leave the farm as early as July. 

“ Leave Green Gables?” Anne was close to sobbing, and Jerry felt much like it did when he was first told he was a wizard - like everything he understood was being flipped upside down. 

“But your work is here!” Anne said, trying to wrap her head around it, and imagine what all this would entail. “How can we all just leave?”

What if they couldn’t afford to keep her? Would she be sent back to the asylum after all, or could she try and find a way to stay at Hogwarts over the summer too? She could work for her keep, of course. 

“Matthew and I will keep working at Hogwarts, and we’ll figure out everything else by then,” Marilla assured her. “Nothing will change for you or Jerry, Anne, don’t you worry. It’s just a change of address. Matthew and I will handle this ourselves. You needn't do anything but focus on school. I won’t have the two of you distracted by this during your exams.” 

“I don’t understand,” Jerry said, glancing between the siblings. How were they so calm about this?  “I thought Green Gables was your home?” 

Marilla winced, just so slightly, and Matthew gazed around him, as if remembering years spent running around Green Gables with people who were now nothing more than ghosts in their memory. 

“It’s just a house,” Marilla started to clear the table, all practicality. But the sound of the dishes being washed a few minutes later were louder, sharper than they usually were. 

Anne sent Jerry a look. Her eyes were full of steely determination, and Jerry felt something almost like hope was burning in them. 

He didn’t know where Anne drew her endless optimism from, but there was something reassuring in it. 

Anne and Jerry spent the rest of their break holed up for hours in the barn, away from Marilla and Matthew’s eyes and ears. There, they attacked and re-attacked the problem in every way they could think of, trying to find a solution. 

“The main issue,” Anne declared, throwing herself down in the hay dramatically, “is that we are assuming wizarding land and bank laws work the same as muggle ones.”

“You think they don’t?” Jerry sat next to her, contemplating that new idea. 

“Goblins run the bank, Jerry,” Anne reminded him. “And based on Professor Binn’s lectures, they don’t like us.” Jerry took Anne’s word for it. He always had trouble not falling asleep to Professor Binn’s lectures. 

“We’re going to have to research this,” Anne decided. “The library must have some books on wizarding law.” 

“That could take ages.” Jerry pictured all the books in the Hogwarts library, with their dusty pages and complicated words. Jerry wanted to do this, wanted to help the Cuthberts and Anne save the home they had opened to him, but it was nearly exam season, and with the Quidditch cup coming ever closer his captain had them practicing more than ever. 

“I can do it,” Anne said it with such reckoning that Jerry pitied anything that dared get in her way. “I’m ahead on schoolwork anyway, and you have enough on your plate with quidditch.” 

That was a bit of relief, but - “I want to help,” Jerry said stubbornly. 

“You’re too busy,” Anne scowled at him for arguing. “Besides, law books are complicated Jerry.” 

“So?” Jerry glared right back. He knew he would struggle with law books, Anne was right, but she didn’t need to say it. “Are you saying I’m too stupid?”

“I’m saying that books are more my forte than yours, and you know it!” 

“So you’re calling me stupid!” 

“You have your precious quidditch, and I’m not going to pawn this off as-” Anne cut herself off, her eyes growing wide as she processed what she just said. She and Jerry stared at each other, the same idea occurring to the both of them. 

“A pawn shop,” Jerry said reverently. 

“They can get money from there,” Anne whispered. “Not enough for the whole farm but-”

“Maybe enough for an extension,” Jerry finished. 

“Come on!” Anne sprang up, rushing out of the barn. “We have to tell Marilla!” 

Marilla had, predictably, scolded them both for worrying about this when she had told them not to, but Jerry had not missed the slight ease of her shoulders. He knew that pose, his mother often had it. It was the relief of a burden lessening just so slightly. 

Jerry studied Marilla’s still strained smile, and strengthened his resolve to win the Quidditch Cup, if only to see Marilla smile fully for once. 

(Three weeks later, when they win, Marilla is actually spotted clapping in delight, and Matthew ruffles his hair awkwardly before his teammates sweep him away to the victory party. It feels better than any goal Jerry scored.) 

***

Gilbert very nearly didn’t come back after the Easter holidays. The pretense that his father had been able to keep up under the guise of cheery jokes and strong pen strokes fell away once Gilbert could actually see him. His father was frail, coughing and hardly had the strength to get out of bed. The healer came by three days before Gilbert had to return to school, and confirmed what Gilbert and his father already knew, in their heart of hearts: there was nothing they could do. The dragon pox, the plague of wizarding britain for the last decade, had laid a stake on it’s latest victim. 

Gilbert had stormed out of the room, and found himself running through the orchard out back without any recollection of leaving the house. An hour passed in a haze of angry words shouted into the sky and furious fists beating everything around him, because something inside of him hurt and he wanted it out. 

It’s not enough for you?! He had screamed into the empty sky. “ My mother, my brothers, my sister, none of it was enough? You need to take him too? 

His father put his foot down and made him return to school. Claimed that they would spend time together when Gilbert finished the school year, but he would not stand in the way of Gilbert’s education. 

So Gilbert did. It was almost pointless - he couldn’t pay attention in class, he couldn’t even keep track of what day it was. Professor Luewellyn had been concerned when Gilbert showed up to transfiguration class at the wrong time for the second day in a row, convinced it was the charms classroom. 

April bled into May, and the rest of the school spoke in equally eager and despairing tones about the improving weather, the approach of summer vacation as well as the dreaded exams. But every day felt like the noose was growing tighter around Gilbert’s neck. Every day that passed brought his father one less with him. 

It had been an ordinary Tuesday morning when Professor Twycross had pulled him out of potions class. Madam Edgecomb was with him in his office, hands fluttering nervously. 

“Gilbert,” Madam Edgecomb had said gently, and Gilbert had to look away from the obvious heartbreak on her face. “We just received a letter - you need to floo home, I’m afraid, right away. We’ll send some of your belongings after-” 

“That won’t be necessary,” Gilbert said. He held out his hand for floo powder. 

“Madam Edgecomb can go with you,” Professor Twycross offered quietly. “If you would like.”

“No, thank you,” Gilbert refused, struggling to stay polite. He just wanted to be off. “I think we would prefer if it were just us, professor. For - for this part.” 

“Of course,” Professor Twycross inclined his head. He held out the powder, shaking some into Gilbert’s palm. 

“If there is anything you need, Gilbert, please, do not hesitate to ask,” Professor Twycross said, still in the gentle tone. 

Gilbert nodded, too sharply, and the world erupted into green flames. 

Mrs. Kincannon was there when he arrived, waiting with a ready pot of tea, a towel for the ash and far too much pity in her eyes. 

“He’s in his room,” was all she said. 

Once he arrived to his father’s room, Gilbert was sure he would never forgive himself for returning to school after Easter break. 

Every night, Gilbert had read to his father from his favourite book of poetry, a collection of works by the wizard Lewis Carroll. John Blythe was particularly fond of his poem “A Boat Beneath A Sunny Sky,” and Gilbert recited it with care each night. 

“Your mother loved this one,” his father would always sigh when it was over, and Gilbert had to swallow back a sob. 

One night, both of them fell asleep in the same room after Gilbert was done reading. In the morning, only Gilbert woke up. Despite his pleas, the cries that were so loud that they drew Ms Kincannon to the house two hours early, nothing changed.

They had had four days together. Gilbert had arrived home just in time. 

It would never be enough. 

***

Too many people showed up to the funeral. Gilbert couldn’t breathe with them all crowded into the house. All of them wanted to speak to him, to talk about the amazing wizard John had been, a Gryffindor through and through, how proud he had been of Gilbert. Gilbert wanted to scream at them all. 

Charlie and few of his other school friends came, allowed to leave Hogwarts for the weekend, and other pureblooded families Gilbert had known growing up came as well - the Barry’s, for example, and the Lyndes’ and the Gillis’ and even the Spurdgeons. The Andrews, thankfully, stayed away. 

Gilbert had been more confused when Madam Cuthbert and her brother slipped inside the house. Gilbert had never known that Marilla knew his father, though when he considered it they must have attended Hogwarts together. The sorrow and respect that filled Madam Cuthbert’s voice when she paid her sympathies spoke of a close friendship, and Gilbert couldn’t puzzle that out. How could his father never have mentioned such an important relationship? Gilbert thought his father had told him everything, the two Blythes against the world. What other mysteries were out there about his father? 

Now it was too late to ever find out. 

Gilbert had slipped out when it all became too much, heading to the orchard where no one could find him. 

And yet, she did. For the first time, she initiated conversation. Like every time before, it ended in one of them yelling. But for the first time, it wasn’t her. 

( “I didn’t know he knew Madam Cuthbert,” Gilbert had crossed his arms, suddenly angry and not caring why. 

“I - I didn’t know either. I just learned last week, when we heard the - the news,” Anne stuttered through, giving him a look of pity that he detested so much. 

“I thought I knew everything about my dad. He always told me everything, ” Gilbert said. 

“That’s nice, though,” Anne had smiled, sounding wistful. “That he could tell you all he did. I wish-” 

“And why,” Gilbert snapped, the anger in him boiling over, “is this about you?” 

Anne had actually flinched back. “I- it’s not! I just-”

“Just leave me alone!” 

And he had stalked away.) 

***

“Isn’t he even more handsome when he’s sad?” Ruby sighed at the next story club meeting. 

“How can one be handsome when they’re sad?” Diana said, exasperated. 

“All the best romance has tragedy in it for a reason, Diana!” Ruby flung back. “That’s what Anne is always saying, right Anne?” She folded her arms, glancing at her redheaded friend for affirmation. 

Anne hadn’t been listening. 

***

Gilbert didn’t return to school for exams. He told the headmaster that there was too much going on with the funeral and loose ends to tie up. He couldn’t admit to the actual truth - that going back would feel like a betrayal to his father, as if he were saying that the whole world hadn’t changed too much overnight. How could he be expected to just come back, to wake up and go to breakfast and class and study like he hadn’t just had the universe ripped out from underneath him? 

Twycross was all too understanding. Gilbert had to hand in written essays for each of his subjects but was exempt from the exams themselves. Twycross assured him it’s all a formality anyway. Gilbert’s grades spoke for themselves; he would easily be passed on to fourth year. 

He returned once, mid-June, to gather the rest of his belongings and turn in his assignments. Professor Phillips checked in on his progress, as head of Slytherin house, but he mostly left Gilbert to pack up in peace. 

He ran into Charlie on his way to the greenhouses, to turn in his herbology essay, and suffered through a conversation with him. It was awkward in a way that he and Charlie have never been awkward, something off-balance between the two. 

Gilbert caught sight of red braids out of the corner of his eye and the guilt feels like a punch to his already beaten soul. He mumbled an excuse to Charlie and left without waiting for an answer, Charlie’s crestfallen expression added to the growing list of people he’d hurt recently. 

He took his time walking back to the castle after turning in his herbology essay. If he timed it right, supper would have started and he wouldn’t risk running into anyone else. 

Too bad the universe had different plans. 

“Hey Gilbert!” 

There was no mistaking the ever-callous tones of Billy Andrews. Gilbert kept walking. He had hoped that Billy being out of the dorms earlier meant that he wouldn’t run into this particular roommate, but he should have known better. Fate was never on his side, these days. 

Their two other housemates were with Billy, but neither made a move to greet Gilbert. Neither had tried to come to the funeral either. 

“How’s it going Blythe?” Billy’s voice was all cheer, as if he and Gilbert were the best of mates. As if the last month of Gilbert’s life hadn’t happened. 

“Fine,” Gilbert said shortly. He wasn’t about to confide in the likes of Billy Andrews. 

“Glad to see you’re coming back to school, bud,” Billy grinned at him. Gilbert was reminded of the sharp, predatory grins mermaids were always drawn with. “That ugly muggle orphan is out of control - people keep saying she’s going to earn the best marks in charms and transfiguration this year, out of the whole school.” 

“So?” Gilbert asked, ignoring the guilt that rose at the mention of Anne. “Why do you care? It’s not like you were going to get best marks in those subjects.” Or any, ever. 

“So, we need someone to show her she’s not that smart,” Billy rolled his eyes, as if Gilbert was being impossible. 

“She’s smart,” Gilbert snapped, clenching his jaw. “Deal with it.” 

“Why you gotta be like that, bud?” Billy chuckled. 

“Why don’t you bust out a book and take care of it yourself?” Gilbert just wanted to go home . Far away from everyone else and their petty issues that were so insignificant, far away from Billy and his sadistic hatred of an innocent girl. 

“Yeah right,” Billy snorted, and his cronies copied him. Merlin, had Gilbert really shared a room with them for three years? “Good one bud.” 

Gilbert stopped walking. He turned and looked Billy directly in the face, speaking slowly so that there was no chance that Billy would misunderstand him. 

“Let me give you a tip,” Gilbert said, his voice as cold as ice in the warm June weather. “I’m not your bud. ” 

“Yeah, right,” Billy scoffed. 

“Yeah,” Gilbert said angrily, rage building up as he looked at the bully in front of him. “I’m serious. And another thing. If you ever hassle Anne again,” Gilbert promised, “you’ll regret it.” 

“Yeah, right.” Like a broken record. 

“Yeah. Right.” Gilbert repeated firmly. He glared at the three of them soundly, before walking away. 

“What’s your problem? ” Billy asked, and Gilbert snapped. 

“Ask me that again,” He turned around. Billy’s cronies stepped back, recognising danger when they saw it. 

“What?”

“Come on. ASK!” Gilbert shouted. Billy said nothing. Gilbert started to walk away. 

“I don’t get you Blythe. Seriously, what’s your problem?” Billy called angrily. 

It was like a cauldron that had been left on the fire too long, the rage that swept up inside him. He couldn’t think; there was nothing but a dull roar in his ears. 

He threw his school bag at his former roommate, and Billy caught it by instinct. 

He didn’t see the punch coming. 

It felt good, hitting Billy over and over. Even the pain from Billy’s own punches felt satisfying in a horrible way. Gilbert’s inhibitions were loose, he was freerer then he had been in weeks right there on the grounds, struggling for an upper hand. 

It ends with Billy’s face in the dirt, the other two Slytherin’s looking at Gilbert like he had lost his mind. 

Gilbert ran. 

***

“Jerry! Jerry!” Anne burst through the Hufflepuff common room, ignoring the squawks of protest at her blue and bronze robes. 

“Anne?” Jerry looked at her askance, ignoring the glares sent their ways. “This is the Hufflepuff house, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Oh forget that right now,” Anne said impatiently. “Jerry, I found it! In one of the old education amendments! There’s a way to save Green Gables!” 

Jerry’s eyes lit up. “Show me,” he said eagerly, and they raced to the library. 

“It’s nearly curfew!” A hufflepuff prefect yelled after them. 

In accordance with the Wizengamot’s budget bill of 1612, and the 11th statue of education in reference to the keeping and caretaking of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and it’s grounds, (an independently and privately run institution that falls under Ministry law and standards) shall be financially handled by a private organisation (Society for British Wizarding Education) for the next five years, to be renewed by contract at the end of that time. 

This supersedes the previously established statue of education that determined the financial handling of the Hogwarts caretaking and amenities, which were split equally between the Ministry and the school.

Jerry read the words aloud to himself, struggling to find the hope in them that was glowing in Anne’s eyes. 

“What does it mean?” He asked Anne. 

“That contract stopped being renewed over fifty years ago,” Anne said triumphantly. “I checked in the records. Legally, Green Gables and it’s financial accounts should have been the responsibility of the Ministry then, for them to put up half the money. But the organisation - or, well, the family that ended up taking it over - just kept pouring money into the account.”

“Until now,” Jerry said, gazing down at the heavy book. This felt too good to be true. “Do you think that the Ministry will just agree to start paying for the house again?” No one ever wanted to pay money, Jerry knew that all too well. Just because the ministry was supposed to doesn’t mean they would. A law written over 200 years ago might not matter to them. 

“It isn’t up to them,” Anne grinned, her eyes sparkling with glee. “Green Gables is owned by the bank. We don’t need to prove anything to the ministry - we need to prove it to the bank .” 

Jerry waited for the punchline to drop. Anne didn’t disappoint. 

“Gringotts is run by goblins, Jerry,” Anne reminded him. “And there is nothing they take more seriously than contract law. ”

Jerry’s eyes grew wide. 

“ Merde, ” Jerry whispered, and Anne grinned so widely she felt like she would burst.

“Anne you did it.” 

“I did it,” Anne giggled in disbelief, clutching the book tighter. 

“We have to tell Marilla,” Anne added. They got no further than the library door when Professor MacMillan swooped down on them. 

“This is unacceptable, curfew was thirty minutes ago - I will be calling your heads of houses, immediately,” MacMillian tutted. 

“Oh, good,” Anne said casually, still giddy. “We needed to speak to Marilla anyway. Could you please tell her to hurry? It’s rather urgent.” 

When they explained to her what Anne had found, Professors Luewelln and MacMillian blinking confusedly in the corner, Marilla went very pale, calling for a house-elf to bring Headmaster Twycross right away. Twycross combed through the passage, listening intently to Anne rambling on as he muttered under his breath. When he looked up, he was beaming.

Marilla cried, then lectured them on being out after curfew, then pulled them both into such a strong hug Anne heard her spine crack.

Twycross assigned their detention to Matthew, and they spent the whole hour playing with the baby hippogriffs.

***

June came faster than any of the Cuthberts were ready for. While the immediate threat of losing Green Gables was gone, they weren’t out of the woods yet. The Ministry, when presented with the old law by several pedantic and unimpressed goblins, caved only as far as to strike a new deal: the ministry would take on the whole of the Forbidden Forest, so long as Hogwarts provided a caretaker to manage it, and put up half the expenses for the house and land of Green Gables. The rest would be paid by Matthew and Marilla, or any future caretakers.

“We didn’t tend to the crops during the spring enough, and a lot of the fields went fallow,” Marilla told Jerry and Anne briskly. “We’ll have to recuperate next year to try and make up for the loss, and money will be tight for a little while till then. But we will make do.”

Marilla’s idea of “make do” still involved the pawn shop. She and Anne spent a whole day going through the house and selecting items and heirlooms to trade in. Matthew’s cufflinks, Marilla’s mother’s brooch, and several old magical instruments were the most precious things added to the pile. Anne gave up the new dress robes she had been so fond of, and even tried to add her school books to the pile. Marilla put her foot down at that – she was quite adamant that Anne not sacrifice her education in any way, even if “they’re just old textbooks Marilla!”

Marilla refused to sell only one other item – Matthew’s gold pocket watch, given to all wizards when they came of age.

“That was Michael’s,” Marilla had snapped at Matthew, something Anne rarely saw her do. “Michael gave it to you and so help me only Michael can take it away.”

Matthew had withdrawn the watch and shuffled awkwardly away, and Marilla returned to the washing with a vengeance.

When the night before day they were going to Dufftown arrived, everything fell apart. Rachel and Thomas Lynde both came down with high fevers that spooked Marilla into thinking they had the dragon pox, and both she and Matthew were needed to tend to them and the crops the next day.

Jerry was called upon to accompany Anne instead, and Marilla fussed over the pair of nearly an hour before she agreed they were ready.

“Don’t let the pawn broker bully you,” Marilla told Anne. “And don’t leave Jerry’s side!”

“No one is going to bully Anne,” Jerry muttered, and Anne shot him a look.

“Marilla, we’ll be fine,” Anne brushed off Marilla’s fifth attempt to wrap a shawl around her. “Go tend to the Lynde’s, Jerry and I will be back tonight.”

“If its too late-“

“We’ll floo from Aunt Josephine’s,” Anne finished. “Marilla, go.”

“Anne! Anne!” Diana came tearing up the path, clutching a bag.

“Diana? What is it, are your parents sick too?” Anne asked, as Diana gasped for breath. Jerry jumped down next to them, hastily adjusting his cap.

“No, no, they’re all fine,” Diana said, still out of breath. “I just wanted to give you this.” She handed Anne the bag she was holding. Anne undid the strings and pulled out Diana’s good hairbrush, the one her mother had brought in France.”

“Oh Diana, we couldn’t-“

“Take it.” Diana insisted. “To help save Green Gables.”

Anne pulled her into a crushing hug. “Thank you,” She whispered.

“We should get going,” Jerry said, wiping his surreptitiously on the horse blanket. “It’s a two hour ride to Dufftown, at least.”

Anne released Diana, squeezing her hand one last time before she hopped up on the cart. “I’ll call tomorrow, if I can be spared.”

“Bon chance,” Diana said, smiling sweetly. Jerry’s cheeks had turned a light pink by the sun.

“Merci,”

“No French!” Anne groaned, and Jerry laughed as they rode through the gate.

“I’m serious Jerry, this is an important quest, and we have to start it right!”

“Il etait un bergere, et ron ron ron-“

“ No singing either!”

“-petit patapon!”

“I’m not kidding Jerry!”

“Il etait un bergere, et ron ron ron petit patapon,”

“I will kill you,” Anne vowed, throwing her face into her hands.

Jerry sang louder.

It was nearly the afternoon by the time Jerry and Anne arrived in Dufftown.

“I’ll go to the pawnshop, try and sell the broomsticks,” Anne instructed, hoping down from the cart and grabbing the smaller parcel.

"Madam Cuthbert said to stay together,” Jerry frowned.

“It will take us forever if we don’t split up,” Anne said impatiently. “Besides, we’re already in town. What can happen here?”

“I wish we had our wands,” Jerry admitted, casting a furtive look. “I have a bad feeling.”

“Best of both worlds, remember?” Anne said flippantly. “We don’t need our wands to sell stuff. Words are our weapons today.”

Over an hour later, Anne exited the pawn shop wishing that some of that confidence had bled through her negotiations. The Cuthbert’s most treasured possessions, half of what their future was riding on, worth no more than two galleons and thirty sickles. She had hoped for at least 4 galleons.

How much would Jerry be able to get for the two broomsticks? How much had Marilla said they would need to make their share for Green Gables? Anne couldn’t remember, but it had to be more than this. What would happen if they couldn’t pay their half? The air suddenly felt very hot around her. The sun was too bright in her eyes. Her head was pounding.

“Anne?”

She looked up. Standing in front of her, as if no more than a night had passed since that terrible day in the orchard-

“Gilbert?”

“Hello,” Gilbert said, smiling that strange smile she could never make sense of. “What brings you here?”

“I –“ Anne felt like everything was spinning. “I think I need to sit down.” She was surprised by this as Gilbert is, evidently, but he recovers quickly, taking her by the elbow gently and leading her into a tea shop.

She’d finished almost a whole cup of tea before she felt like herself again. Gilbert was kind enough to keep up the conversation, telling her about working in the muggle part of town and making no mention of her current state, or the last time they spoke.

It’s strange, talking here with him, and Anne was grateful no one she knows from school lives in Dufftown. The idea of being caught in the company of Gilbert Blythe, as civil as you please, would be mortifying.

Anne explained what she was doing in Dufftown, and Gilbert, to his credit, seemed genuine in his sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear about all of your troubles,” Gilbert said. “The Cuthberts are good people – Marilla was the only person at the funeral who seemed to really know him.”

“I love them with all my heart,” Anne said simply. “I never knew what a family was, until they took me in. If I had to lose them-“ Her gaze settled on Gilbert, as if only just now seeing who she was talking too. “I owe you an apology.”

“No, you don’t,” Gilbert hastened to say. “Really, I was out of line-“

“Yes, I do ,” Anne insisted.

“I should apologize to you-“Gilbert continued. His words from that day had haunted him for weeks, and now that life had handed him the opportunity to make it right, he had to take it.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Anne interrupted him. Her jaw was set in that stubborn manner, the way she always looked when Gilbert had beaten her at a new charm. The comparison almost made him smile. It was a strange feeling – he hadn’t smiled since that day in May.

“I was rude,” Gilbert admitted. “You were just trying to help-“

“I was insensitive!” Anne said angrily, and Gilbert couldn’t think of something further from the truth. She had just been trying to help, and he had snapped at her, taking out all his anger and rage on someone who he had tried for months to befriend.

“Can we please just – not argue? For once?” Gilbert pleaded. He had been fortunate enough to get this second chance to apologize to Anne. He didn’t want to ruin it with an argument.

“Can you please stop contradicting me?” Anne muttered, and Gilbert felt that odd urge to smile again. “Gilbert, I am so sorry I wasn’t more sensitive about your father, and what you must have been going through, are still going through-“

He has learned, time and time again, to never interrupt Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, but if he let her continue talking like this, then he might lose the little control he has built up in the last four weeks.

“It’s water under the bridge,” He cut her off, shrugging a little. Anne nodded, and a quiet fell over the table, both at a loss of what to say.

“Anyway,” Anne started, but doesn’t continue. Instead she stared out the window, her bright red hair shining in the summer sky.

“Anyway,” Gilbert agreed, watching her. He feels like that moment should be more important, like something weighty and irreversible was about to happen. But then Anne turns her head back toward him and the moment passes.

“I should go, Jerry is probably looking for me,” Anne said, pulling out a few sickles to place on the table. Gilbert waved her off.

 “It’s on me.”

By some small miracle, Anne didn’t argue.

“It was quiet, at school,” Anne said as they exited the tea shop. “Charms club was a little dull at the end.”

“Oh yeah?” Gilbert smirked a little at that.

“No one to compete with,” Anne shrugged. “And Prissy made us do all review spells because she was busy with OWLs.”

“Who got the highest marks?” Gilbert asked, though he suspected already knew the answer.

“I did, for the second years,” Anne said. “For charms too. You did for the third years, but a seventh year beat us both for transfiguration.”

“Both?” Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

“Both,” Anne said firmly. “Next year, it’s mine.”

Gilbert chuckled a little. “I have no doubts.” He wasn’t lying either – if his plans held true, Anne would easily take home top marks next Spring – and probably for several years after.

“May the best witch win, fair and square,” Anne offered out a hand, completely serious.

“Fair and square,” Gilbert agreed.

“Hey! Get away from her!”

Someone shoved Gilbert away from Anne. Gilbert windmilled to catch his balance, almost landing in the dirt.

“Don’t touch her!” Whoever shoved him was still shouting at him. Gilbert managed to get his first look at his attacker.

He looked familiar, but only just. About their age, slightly shorter than Anne. Probably a Hogwarts student then, and when Gilbert tried to picture him in black robes, it clicked into place. He was a Hufflepuff in Anne’s year, one who she talked to occasionally. Muggleborn, if Gilbert remembered right.

“Stop, stop, Jerry stop!” Anne said frantically, trying to calm him down. “Jerry, it’s Gilbert!”

“Wha-?” Jerry relaxed his fighting stance, looking closer at Gilbert. “Oh.”

  Which gave Anne and Gilbert the time to notice Jerry’s condition – his cheeks were all cut up, and he was hunched over his left leg a bit.

“Jerry what happened to you?” Anne said fearfully.

“I can’t remember,” Jerry told her, his eyes wide. “I had just sold the broomsticks, and then these two people pushed me into an alley and started shoving me. I tried to duck when one pulled out their wand but whatever they cast hit me. Everything is fuzzy, but Anne,” Jerry looked miserable. “Anne they took the money.”

“What?” Anne’s face went white. “Jerry what did they cast at you? Come on, you need to remember.”

“I can’t,” Jerry shook his head. “It’s all blank Anne, I can’t remember what they look like or-

“A memory charm,” Gilbert said quietly. “They must have cast it to stop you from being able to identify them.”

Anne sucked in a breath. “Come on,” Anne tugged Jerry by the sleeve, checking him over. “We need to get you back home, Marilla should have a look at you.”

“But the money-“ Jerry said helplessly.

“We’ll figure it out,” Anne said. “This is more important right now.”

Gilbert watched as Anne and Jerry left, Anne’s attention solely on her friend. A hastily remembered farewell was all that was thrown over her shoulder as the two hurried down the street, and away from Gilbert.

Well. That was that.

Gilbert turned on his heel and made his way back toward the muggle world.

The next day, he took the first portkey out.

***

It was raining and dark out when Marilla and Anne heard the knock on the door.

“That would be new boarder, I suppose,” Marilla said, glancing at the clock on the mantle. “Anne, go and let him in, I’ll put a kettle on.”

Anne did as she was bid, smiling in her most welcoming manner as she swung open the front door.

A tall, golden-haired man grinned easily down at her, eyes crinckling.

“Hello there. I’m Nate, the second alchemist boarder? Can I come in?”  

(Anne said you speak French?)

(You speak french?)

(Yes, my mother taught me, but I don’t have anyone to practice with here at Hogwarts)

(All of my family speaks French, I miss it.) 

(Will you see them at Christmas?)

(No, I am staying with the Cuthberts at Christmas, my family can’t go to London)

(Practice with me? Your accent is so much better than mine)

(If anything she is annoying us) 

Chapter Text

“How have we gone through eight students and not a single Ravenclaw?” Cetus hissed as they politely clapped for the third Gryffindor first year of the bunch. “At this rate we’re not going to have any first years at all!” 

“Some years are just smaller than others,” Charlie Sloan said, leaning around fourth year Geraint. “We only have four Gryffindors in my year, and Josie is the only girl.”

“I’m sure we’ll get some soon,” Anne said placating. “Good things come to those that wait.” 

“Is that a muggle saying?” Musa asked, pulling out a scrap of parchment. “Can you write it down for me? I have muggle studies this year, I want to impress the teacher.” 

“Shh!” Diana hissed, as Prissy shot them a disapproving look from up near the front. “This next one might be ours!” 

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat roared, and the third and fourth Ravenclaws groaned quietly as the table next to them cheered and hollered. Anne spotted Jerry from where he sat next to Moody and Phillippa, drumming on the table. 

“Hey, did we get a transfer student?” Jane nudged Anne and Diana, inclining her head toward the Gryffindor table. “Who’s that new guy next to Ruby?” 

“I think it’s- Cole ,” Anne said in surprise. “Was he that tall before summer?” 

“I don’t think so,” Diana shook her head. “He’s positively giant now.” 

“Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw,” Geraint and Musa were both muttering under their breath, fingers’ crossed. 

“Slytherin!”

Another round of groans. 

“I think Josie’s noticed too,” Jane giggled, still watching the Gryffindor table. “Look, she keeps playing with her hair right in front of him!” 

“Don’t start rumors, Jane,” Diana rebuked her. The sorting hat yelled again and the three of them clapped automatically even as the boys grumbled. 

“We only have six students left. How can we win the cup without any students!” Cetus demanded. 

“I guess it means less first years to lose us points.” 

“Ravenclaws don’t lose points, we gain them by knowing all the answers. You’re thinking of Gryffindors.” 

“What’s wrong with Ruby?” Anne asked Jane and Diana. The strawberry blonde was staring down at her plate, a familiar pout scrunching up her cute features. Anne had seen that pout enough to know Ruby was trying to hold in tears. 

“She must have just heard the news,” Diana said sympathetically. “Poor dear, it’s a wonder she isn’t crying.” 

“What news?” Anne hadn’t heard anything, and Matthew and Marilla certainly would have told her if something horrible was happening at school. 

Diana’s eyes widened. “You- you didn’t know?” 

“Know what?” 

“I thought - I assumed you would know, that he would have told you-” Diana was speaking so quietly that Anne had to lean closer in to hear her. 

“Slytherin!” Charlie and Cetus didn’t bother hiding their groans, and most of the upper Ravenclaws joined them. 

“Who? Matthew?” Anne whispered. “Diana, you’re worrying me.” 

Diana bit her lip, her eyes flitting to Charlie once more, and then beckoned Anne closer. When she spoke, it was so quiet that Anne wasn’t sure sound was even coming out. 

“It’s been going around the school like wildfire since the train arrived. Gilbert Blythe isn’t coming back.” 

Anne was certain she had misheard at first, and her head whipped around to the Slytherin table to prove Diana wrong. There was no way that he would just leave; where would he even go? 

She looked it over once, twice, three times, her brain unable to process what her eyes were telling it. 

“RAVENCLAW!” 

The table erupted into a cacophony of noise, hollering and banging on the table, as Anne slowly rotated her eyes back to the front. 

“We got one!” Jane grabbed her shoulders and shook in glee, pulling Anne back into the present.

“Oh,” Anne said, feeling a little strange. “We did.” 

***

 “I don’t understand why they would suddenly switch classes around on us,” Anne complained to Diana as they took their seats. “For two years we have History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, and suddenly now it’s with the Gryffindors?”

“Change can be a good thing Anne, you of all people know that,” Diana countered, rummaging in her bag for a quill. “I think it will be nice to have Ruby and Tilly in another class with us.” 

“They’ll spend the whole time talking, we won’t be able to hear the lesson,” Anne grumbled. 

Diana rolled her eyes at her friend’s determined sullenness. “Anne, even you have trouble paying attention to Professor Binns. You can hardly blame the others for using the class as a time to catch up. You just don’t want to admit you miss having the class with Jerry.”

“I do not miss Jerry!” Anne retorted. “He’s too annoying to miss.”

“Well, you miss having someone to whisper about wizard logic and muggle history with then,” Diana countered. “Don’t give me that look, I’ve sat with you two for two years. I can hear what you whisper about in class.” Anne at least had the grace to look abashed. 

The Gryffindors entered the classroom, all huddled together in a group. Tillie and Ruby broke off to sit with Jane in the row behind them, while the two Gryffindor boys joined Cetus and Musa across from them. 

Cole was left with the only remaining empty seat in the class, right next to Anne. He slid into Diana and Anne’s row neatly, keeping his head down as he quietly unpacked his bag. The girls in the row behind fell into helpless giggles - no doubt remembering Josie’s crush. Anne ignored them, pulling out her parchment and quill to take notes. Beside her, Cole pulled out not parchment, but a heavy, nicely bound book, with thick pages of blank parchment. Anne had never seen anything like it. 

Professor Binns’ appearance meant that the giggling was replaced by groans as he placidly greeted them, then launched right into the lecture on Anne Boleyn (there was an eruption of giggles and friendly teases at the name)  and the witch hunts as if the summer break had never happened. 

Anne found the lecture particularly distasteful; not only was the subject matter horrific, but hearing Professor Binns’ twist her already dreadfully dull name into something positively bone dry was nearly too much to bear. She found herself more than once tempted to listen in on the whispered gossip behind her. 

As Binns droned on, the purpose behind Cole’s strange book became clear. He had begun to draw out the witch trials, sketching out the looming castles in the background as Binns dryly recited the horrible case of Engred the Enflamed, adding the menacing pyres and creeping shadows as the professor moved on to the ministry’s violent response of anti-muggle movements. 

Anne watched Cole, enraptured. It was as if he had picked the scene straight from Anne’s head, bringing life and a terrible haunting beauty to the witch trials that Binns’s lectures failed to deliver. 

He had just started to add in flames when the bell rang for lunch, startling them all. Their classmates let out noises at relief at being freed from Binns, but Cole just let out an exasperated sigh. Anne looked over and saw the cause for his grief - the start of the bell had caused him to knock over his inkwell. The black liquid swallowed up the page, ruining the whole sketch. Cole watched it, mute in defeat. 

Anne couldn’t let something that beautiful be destroyed. 

“Here,” Anne said, pulling out her wand. “I can fix that.” She tapped her wand to the page, focused on the right ward, and the ink began back toward the edge. Cole’s drawing emerged untouched underneath. “Good as new,” Anne beamed. 

“Thank you,” Cole blinked, staring at her, then back at the page. “I- I thought it would be ruined.”

“It’s really good,” Anne said, casting an admirable look at the drawing. “Like it was lifted right from my imagination, just as I pictured it.” 

“It’s nothing,” Cole blushed at the praise. “Just a sketch - nothing like real art.”

“Looks like real art to me,” Diana said, coming around to Cole’s other side. Anne grasped the corner of the page, looking to Cole for permission. At his nod, she flipped through the book. Drawings upon drawings filled the pages. She paused at the only one done in color - an image of Hogwarts at night, the moon shining high over the castle and illuminating the lake.

“It’s exquisite,” Anne breathed. 

“It looks just like when we first saw Hogwarts from the boats,” Diana said, sounding a little wistful. “It was our first night, before we even got sorted as first years,” she added to Anne. 

“That’s what it’s meant to be,” Cole told them, a little shyly. “It was one of the first ones I did.” 

“You wouldn’t be able to tell that it’s the first,” Anne commented. “I’m glad the ink didn’t ruin this - it would have been a tragedy to lose such fine art.”

Cole blushed again at Anne’s praise. “I didn’t even know there was a spell for spilled ink,” He looked at Anne wondering. “Where did you learn it.”

“I must have picked it up from a book,” Anne shrugged. Diana smiled fondly at her. 

“Anne’s an absolute wonder at charms,” Diana informed Cole. “She scored the highest out of the whole school last year.” 

“I remember,” Cole smiled. “I may ask for some charms help sometime then.” 

“As long as you can help me with potions,” Anne said. “I’m absolutely terrible at them.”

“If by absolutely terrible you mean ‘less than truly brilliant,” Diana said in a long suffering tone. “Really Anne, you musn’t be so hard on yourself.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with potions, I’m helpless there myself,” Cole grimaced. “Professor Phillips hates me.”

“He hates me too!” Anne commiserated. “Guess we’re two peas in a pod then.” 

Cole stared at her. 

“It’s a muggle saying,” Diana told him. “It’s like “two tails of a krup.”

“Ah,” Cole realized, and laughed a little. “I guess we are. 

***

Diana and Anne were in the common room, composing a letter to Aunt Jo when Henry popped up, looking at Diana with a befuddled expression. 

“Your name isn’t on the tryout list,” Henry blinked down at Diana. “Why?” 

“The tryout list?” Diana repeated, exchanging a confused look with Anne. Anne just shrugged, looking equally at a loss. “For quidditch?” There weren’t many other things to try out for at Hogwarts, but Diana couldn’t make sense of why he was talking to her about such things. 

“Of course for Quidditch,” Henry said impatiently. “We have four positions to be filled, since Aquilla decided to focus only on schoolwork this year, and tryouts are on Saturday. Why isn’t your name on the list?”

Diana stared at him, resisting the urge to pinch herself like Anne did when she thought she was dreaming. Was he seriously suggesting that she, Diana Barry, play on the quidditch team? What would her parents say?

“I can’t play quidditch!” Diana blurted out, picturing her mother’s horrified look at such an idea and shuddering. “My parents would never be okay with it!”

Henry looked perplexed at the very notion that someone wouldn’t play quidditch. “Why not?”

“Because it isn’t ladylike,” Diana replied simply, picking up the quill to keep writing her aunt. She ignored Anne’s all too telling silence across the table, or the muggle studies book that was slipped in between her other textbooks. (True, that hadn’t been met with her mother’s approval either, but Diana had wanted so to learn about the world where Anne and Jerry both came from, and Aunt Josephine had backed her up.)

“But - you can fly,” Henry said. “You love to fly. And loads of women play quidditch, look at the Harpies!” 

Diana indeed knew about the Holyhead Harpies. She had a chocolate frog card of the first team as a child, but her mother had thrown it away, saying that women who played quidditch were not suitable role models for her daughter. 

“I’m very sorry, but I really am very busy,” Diana said, hoping the excuse was polite while still direct enough to get Henry to leave them alone. She had been enjoying herself, and now her mind and feelings were all muddled from Henry’s preposterous ideas. 

“I-right. Okay,” Henry said, still clearly thrown from Diana’s response. “Just- think about it? We could use a flyer like you.” 

Henry walked away, downcast. Diana watched him go, then turned back to her letter to Aunt Josephine. 

And put the quill down again. 

And picked it up. Her eyes flickered to the bulletin board. 

The quill went back down. 

She looked at Anne, who for once wasn’t saying anything, just watching Diana. 

Quidditch was a sport that her father had always enjoyed spectating, though by all accounts he wasn’t very talented at it, nor flying. Her mother had never encouraged it though, and wasn’t even fond of letting Diana fly. It wasn’t the sort of thing ladies did, especially ones who would marry well. How could Diana ignore everything her parents had ever told her? All of her classmates, her future societal peers, all attended Hogwarts, all would see her if she did this. 

It was preposterous. She picked the quill back up, determined to respond to her Aunt. 

And set it back down. 

Her aunt, who was always saying how dreadfully dull Diana’s parents were and made a point of talking to Diana as if she were a different person entirely. 

Her aunt knew one of the Holyhead Harpies. She had mentioned it once when Diana visited over the summer. 

“You do like flying,” Anne muttered. 

“Anne!” 

“It’s true Diana! And you would be amazing at it, because you’re amazing at everything. Jerry loves it, though that could be a bad thing, but don’t you owe it to your life to at least try?” 

“I-” Diana was many things, but she had never been a liar, not even to herself. “I suppose it’s just tryouts,” She whispered to Anne. 

“Exactly!” 

“I might not even make the team,” Diana added, as if that would make any difference to her parents. Though, the idea of trying and not making it suddenly seemed awful. 

Anne snorted. “I’ve seen you fly Diana. You’ll make it.” 

A sort of thrill went through Diana, at the thought of what she was about to do. Was this how Anne felt, whenever she was about to start on one of her adventures, or whenever she got wrapped up in a story?  

“Anne?” Diana said, her voice a little faint, but fierce, and her best friend raised a brow. “I’m trying out for the quidditch team.” Anne squealed. 

Diana picked up her quill, and stood up. Aunt Jo’s letter could wait just a moment later. 

***

Gilbert breathed in the salty sea air. It filled his lungs, making his whole body feel giddy with anticipation and adventure. 

For the world is wide yet , the old, familiar words rose unbidden to the front of his mind, and Gilbert shoved them back down, heart stinging with a well-known and bitter ache. 

The portkey he had taken last July had only gotten him as far as France. There, he worked his way down the coast, sticking to muggle towns more often than not. He worked odd jobs to earn his keep with muggle currency. 

Now, as the summer began to fade into fall, he found himself on the coast of Portugal, staring across the horizon as the sea crashed against rocks below. 

He had caught a glimpse of a newspaper that morning and felt hollow when he learned that it was already September fifth. August had bade goodbye without him even noticing, and far away his old schoolmates had already started a new year. Had his absence been noted, or missed? 

He hadn’t known until that morning that he had expected to feel homesick once September came, perhaps even the desire to finally go home. 

Instead, the thought of Hogwarts, of Britain with her grey skies and cold bitter sorrows, and all the ghosts that dwelled there made him throw up in the bathroom. 

Suddenly, even Portugal wasn’t far enough away from the past that Gilbert was trying to break free of. 

He signed on to a muggle steamship that very afternoon. Something about the idea had appealed to his very soul with such strength that he couldn’t explain it. For once, he just did, acted without overthinking it. It what his father would have done, in his youth - seized the moment, the day, the opportunity. 

(In another life, after all, he too may have been a Gryffindor.) 

The ship was set to make port in Morocco. Gilbert could figure out his next step from there. 

He boards the ship the next morning, rucksack gripped tightly over his shoulder. His wand is stowed in there, along with a few other magical items, but Gilbert is careful to keep them out of sight. 

He’s aware that he is a great deal - different- from most of the other coal workers. Younger, yes, but also white. It’s an uncomfortable realization, but Gilbert hopes that it would make a good cover for any slips he makes trying to blend in as a muggle. 

He gets through the first few days without any major incidents, and felt rather satisfied with himself. Most wizards couldn’t blend in with muggles for even an hour or so- here he was going unnoticed for days . 

He was sneaking up deck for a first sight of Morocco when he ran into another coal shoveler - the one whose hammock was a few down from his. 

“Whatever it is you’re trying to pull, don’t be doing it where I can get caught up,” the man warned, glaring at Gilbert. He had an accent Gilbert couldn’t place, but spoke of somewhere warm and sunny. “I ain’t looking for no trouble, not here.” 

“I never get caught,” Gilbert smirked. “I’m good at blending in.” 

The man snorted. “Not that good, lad. But I ain’t castin’ no more memory spells on your behalf. Shape up before all those muggles catch on.” 

Gilbert gaped. “I - how- you’re a wizard?!” 

“Hey hey hey, keep your voice down!” The man hissed, shoving Gilbert into the passageway. He ducked his head around, making sure no one else was about.

“Ain’t you got any sense, blabbering about things at the top of your voice?” The man glared at him. “It’s a wonder you haven’t been caught yet, with how obvious you’ve been.”

“Obvious?”

“For the love of God, lad, I picked out your secret before we even left port,” the older wizard rolled his eyes. “It’s like you’ve never been around muggles before.” 

“I haven’t been,” Gilbert said, honestly. “Not really until this past summer.” 

“And just what is a white wizarding boy doing on a muggle steamship, anyways?” The man inquired. “Not the place for someone the likes of you.”

“The likes of us, you mean,” Gilbert said, because the man was a wizard too, even if he was older and not from Britain. So what was he doing on a muggle steamship? “And I needed a break; to get somewhere that wasn’t- there.” he said haltedly, unwilling to dive into the details of his last year. “This seemed as good a way of getting it.”

The man eyed him critically, as if trying to spot a lie. Gilbert gazed back, without guile. 

The man let out a heavy sigh. “I’m going to have to keep your skinny white backside out of trouble, aren’t I?” 

“I can take care of myself,” Gilbert defended swiftly. Because that was true, even if he apparently didn’t blend in as well as he thought he did. 

“What’s your plan after we make port?” He didn’t sound certain of Gilbert’s survival abilities. 

“I’ll figure it out there,” Gilbert shrugged. 

The man stared. Then sighed, and whispered ‘ah, hell’ as if he had made some sort of irreversible decision, and knew he would regret it. “I’m Bash,” 

“Gilbert Blythe,” Gilbert offered out his hand. Bash blinked, then slowly shook it. 

“So, why are you on a muggle ship?” Gilbert asked him. 

“Plenty of time for that story in the latrines,” Bash said, pulling him toward the ladder that lead to the bottom deck. 

“The latrines?” Gilbert pulled a face. “We don’t have that duty unless we’re being punished.” 

“We are Blythe; or did you forget you aren’t supposed to skip out on work to gaze at the horizon and woolgather?” 

“Can’t you just,” Gilbert waved his hand in a vague motion that caused Bash to snort. 

“Like I said, no more memory charms,” Bash said. “I don’t use magic unless I absolutely have too, it’s too risky.”

“We’re going to smell worse than dragon dung,” Gilbert muttered. Bash glared back at him. 

“See, Blythe, this is the sort of thing that gets us caught!” 

“No one else is around!”

“Don’t vex me boy!” 

***

Nate fought off the temptation to groan loudly as the familiar redhead skipped into the lab space he and “Mr Dunlop” had taken over. The Cuthbert’s charge had been enamoured with the two “researchers” all summer, peppering them with questions and fetching them snacks and treats. She apparently had an unabated thirst for knowledge. Nate supposed he couldn’t really begrudge her that - knowledge was power, after all- but didn’t she have better things to do then bother them? 

Jonsey greeted her with a delighted smile and gushed over the scones she had brought them, praising their texture and all sorts of rubbish. Nate rolled his eyes over the cauldron he was bent over. Jonsey was really taking his whole cover a bit far. More than once he had slipped back from his flask breaks to learn that Jonsey had absconded to the kitchens with Anne. 

It was baffling - Jonsey had killed men before, had swindled and taken advantage of women and children even younger than the redheaded brat, without any regrets. Yet here, a bit over three months and Mr Dunlop was asking her questions about her day and seeking her out for baking sessions as if he was a family man at heart. 

It made Nate a little sick, to be frank. 

“What are you working on?” Anne asked, coming up from behind Nate to try and look at the cauldron. He tensed slightly - there was no way that Anne actually had the knowledge to realize what he was mixing was no alchemic solution, but Nate still didn’t like anyone hovering. 

“Alchemy,” Nate said shortly, giving a tight smile as if Anne were like a fond little sister, and not a source of irritation. 

“I know that, ” Anne laughed lightly, bouncing on her toes. “I meant what are you trying to accomplish? All I know about alchemy is what I found in the library, and it is disappointedly bereft of any details.”  

“It’s a complicated art,” Nate shrugged, hoping that would put her off. 

“Alchemy is like transfiguration, isn’t it?” Anne asked, bending over his notes. Nate reached out deliberately and flipped them over. 

“You do know the meaning of “top secret research” don’t you?” Nate asked sarcastically. Anne’s ears turned as red as her hair, and Mr Dunlop busied himself with the storeroom suddenly. 

“I’m sorry!” Anne apologized. “It’s just- it’s so fascinating, everything you and Mr Dunlop talk about, but I don’t understand what exactly you’re trying to do, and I don’t know anything about alchemy. So I hoped that if I just watched what you two were doing, I could figure it out for myself.” 

Anne, hanging around and popping in to watch eagle eyed everything they were doing? Nate couldn’t let that happen. 

“Alchemy is more complicated than transfiguration - more boring, too.” Nate hurried to say, hoping that would put her off. 

“It’s about how you use energy of properties to change one thing into another, isn’t it?” Anne frowned. “Like that first day at Green Gables, when you changed your sickles to lead and back again.” 

Far, far too observant. Nate would have to try a different tactic. He pulled out one of the old alchemy books they had brought with them as part of their disguise. It was exceedingly dull, absurdly long, and it covered all the attributes of alchemy (including the much paged through chapter on gold). It would do perfectly. 

“Tell you what,” Nate fixed an open, disarming smile on his face, and held the book out to Anne. “This is one of my earliest research books for Alchemy. Read that whole thing, cover to cover, and then I’ll answer your questions.” 

“Really?” Anne’s eyes were shining. “You mean it?” She took the book gingerly, as if it was made from gold itself. 

“Sure, but don’t be too hard on yourself if you don’t understand it,” Nate warned. “Like I said, it’s a difficult subject, nothing like the simple spells and potions you’re learning here.” 

“I’ll read it all, cover to cover,” Anne declared. “But - are you sure you won’t need it back soon?”

“Keep it as long as you like,” Nate shrugged. He didn’t really need it anymore, and anything to keep the girl occupied and out of their lab. 

Anne blushed. The girl’s cheeks were a light pink as she looked at him, her smile suddenly shy. “Thank you,” she said softly. 

Huh. Nate recognized those signs. He would have to test to see if he was reading her correctly. 

“Not a problem,” Nate turned on a bit of the charm, using the same smile that had fooled dozens and dozens of women before. “A girl as smart as you probably needs some extra reading.” 

Anne’s cheeks were red now and she ducked her head down, fidgeting. “Thanks again, gotta go to class, bye!” She fled the room, braids flying behind her. 

Nate watched her go, considering. 

Well, that may come in handy later on, Nate smirked, and he whistled to himself merrily as he turned back to his “experiment.”

* **

 Anne didn’t really consider herself a troublemaker - it was more like she just kept ending up in trouble, more often than not. 

This time, though, she had to admit she was a bit at fault. 

She had just been so bored, waiting for Diana to finish at quidditch practice, and all sorts of enchanting sounds had been coming from the forest. She, Jerry and Cole had been finishing their Care of Magical creatures homework, though Cole’s drawing of a pixie looked far better than her or Jerry’s. 

Then Cole had mentioned that he had never seen a pixie or fairy up close, and how he would love to see how their wings actually looked in the light. Jerry and Anne had exchanged a look, and the rest was history. 

They probably should have been less confident in their own ability to find the fairy colony that Matthew had shown them way back in first year, but Anne could have sworn the way wasn’t that complicated. If they went quickly, they would be back before dinner!

Which is how they were now lost in the forbidden forest, the sun sunk beneath the mountains and the last rays of twilight already gone. The trees were shaking and rattling with howling wind. Jerry shuddered, his breath coming out in mists in the November cold. Anne was seriously regretting spending the last month dreaming up ghost stories about evil hags who lived in the forest and feasted on children. 

“We are going to be in so much trouble, ” Cole sighed. 

“If we don’t get eaten first,” Jerry muttered. 

Anne rolled her eyes. “No one is getting eaten,” she said firmly. “We can’t be too far from the edge. We’ll be out in no time.” 

“I still think we should just stay and send up sparks,” Jerry argued. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you’re lost?”

“Jerry we tried it your way already,” Anne said. 

“No we didn’t!”

“Well, I tried it in my head and it didn’t work out,” Anne said dismissively. “Look, the trees are getting thinner, and the air stronger. That means we must be getting close to the lake edge.”

“Or that we’re in a part of the forest we’ve never been before,” Jerry added, apparently determined to be pessimistic. 

“Jerry-” Anne started, but Cole hushed both of them. 

“Look!” The Gryffindor pointed at lights gleaming faintly just ahead. “They must be from the castle!”

Anne let out a sigh of relief. They weren’t lost. Not that they ever had been, truly. 

“Come on,” she grabbed Cole’s hand and ran toward the light, Jerry following behind. They reached the treeline and suddenly were on the castle lawn again, Hogwarts looming over them. 

“Thank Merlin,” Cole declared. “I am never going into the forbidden forest with you two again.”

“At least not without a compass or navigation spell,” Anne agreed, and the boys shared a look of joint misery and exasperation at their friend. 

“Shirley! McKenzie!” The three children jumped out of their skin at the sudden noise. Anne felt a sense of dawning horror as she saw just whom had caught them walking out of the very-off limits, very-forbidden forest, and probably after curfew too. 

“It seems your flagrant disregard for the rules won’t be curbed to just the classroom,” Professor Phillips glared down at the three of them. “I’ll leave it up to your heads of houses to determine your punishment. Though it appears Slytherin will quickly take the lead for the house cup.” 

“How?” Jerry piped up, confused. “Slytherin is in fourth by nearly a hundred points. Even if we all lost fifty now, they still wouldn’t make up the difference.” 

Cole and Anne both had difficulty holding back snickers as Professor Phillip’s face turned purple with rage. 

“What did I do? Wasn’t my math right?” Jerry whispered as Professor Phillips marched them all up to the castle, the three of them trailing behind. 

“Jerry,” Cole whispered back, practically beaming despite the heap of trouble they were all in. “Your math was perfect.” 

***

From Morocco, Gilbert ended up in the Sahara, then the Ivory coast. The steamship he had arrived on was long gone, and he made his living by doing odd jobs again, telling himself he was moving as the wind took him. It was really Bash that was running the show, snagging them basic laboring jobs with muggles, slyly correcting Gilbert whenever he did something that could blow their cover.

Gilbert couldn’t really say if he had made the decision to follow Bash, or Bash had decided to follow him (probably the latter, Bash was under the impression that Gilbert would get himself killed and blow the statute of secrecy if left among muggles alone, not necessarily in that order) but it didn’t really make a difference. They were traveling together, in the end. 

They stayed in the wizarding section of a European colony in the Ivory Coast, but Gilbert didn’t miss the air of uncomfortability Bash exuded the whole time they were there, or the double looks they attracted. They didn’t linger long. 

As October turned into November, Gilbert commented idly on growing bored of Africa. 

“Finally ready to go back to whatever fancy school you came from, Blythe?” Bash teased him around their campfire. 

“Merlin no,” Gilbert snorted. “Just ready to see something new, something incredible.” 

Bash had just shaken his head at him, but the next morning he sent Gilbert to settle up with the muggles who hired them to transport their goods. When Gilbert returned, their belongings had been stowed into Bash’s bottomless sack, and Bash was holding out his arm. 

“Ever apparate before?” Bash asked, side-eyeing him. “I don’t want you getting sick all over me because your skinny body can’t handle it.”

“How bad can it be?” Gilbert snorted, grabbing Bash’s arm. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere new,” was all Bash said, and then he disapparated, taking Gilbert along with him. 

It was a hundred times worse than flooing. It felt like Gilbert was being stretched and squashed all at once, while someone was also trying to freeze him from the inside out. 

He nearly blacked out when they landed, stumbling over to the closest thing he saw - a tree, maybe, but it was too dark to really tell - and clung to it, heaving. 

“I warned you,” Bash chuckled. “Guess it was too much for your skinny body after all.” 

“ That” Gilbert said emphatically, straightening and wiping his mouth. “Was the absolute worst.”

“Don’t be getting all lily-livered on me, we didn’t even splinch,” Bash was still laughing. “Which, considering how far I just dragged your clueless self, is pretty impressive.” 

Gilbert shot him a look, which was probably invisible in the dark. 

“Where are we?” Gilbert asked, squinting around. “Why is it so dark?”

“Amazon Rainforest,” Bash replied, and Gilbert spun around at him. 

“In South America?!”

“That far enough for you, Blythe?” Bash asked knowingly. 

“It’s incredible,” Gilbert breathed. 

“Wait till you see it in the actual daylight,” Bash sounded amused. “You’ll never have seen so much color.”

“You’ve been here before?” Gilbert asked him, trying to picture what was around him. 

“Long time ago, back when I first started doing jobs for muggles,” Bash replied. “Had to help ferry a load of people up and down the river, and keep watch.”

“That sounds amazing,” Gilbert said. He knew Bash had been all over - he had been working and living among Muggles for nearly ten years, and being able to apparate meant he wasn’t limited by geography, but he had never heard him speak of the Amazon before. 

“It wasn’t really the adventure you’re thinking of,” Bash said bitterly, and Gilbert didn’t know how to respond to that. 

“I’m going to make a fire until the sun comes up,” Bash said, and Gilbert heard him rummaging in his pack. “There’s some nasty creatures in this jungle, magical and non magical.” 

“Really? Like what?” Gilbert began to ask, turning towards where Bash’s voice was coming from, and froze. 

His father’s corpse, white as a ghost and perfectly visible, stood mere feet from him. He looked worse than he had even in his final days, the illness possessing every inch of his body. 

“Dad?” Gilbert’s voice cracked. His father didn’t speak, just stared at him. 

“Dad?” Gilbert asked, but something was off. His father hadn’t had so much hair, and his eyes were the wrong color, darker than John Blythe’s hazel eyes. 

A chill went up Gilbert’s spine. It wasn’t his father in front of him, racked with dragon pox. It was him. 

“Blythe move!” Bash tackled him, shoving him to the side. Gilbert landed on the ground. He watched, uncomprehending as the other Gilbert flickered and then changed. In its place was a towering snake, easily ten feet high in the air. 

Bash cursed, shooting a bright red light at the snake. It only served to anger it though. Bash shot another red jet. 

“Stop, you’re making it angrier!” Gilbert yelled, scrambling to his feet. 

“It wasn’t happy to begin with!” Bash shouted. “You got any bright ideas Blythe? I’m listening!”

“What the hell even is that?” Gilbert yelped as the snake took a swipe at them. Bash and Gilbert dove behind a tree. 

“Boggart,” Bash grunted. “Thought this area was far enough north to avoid them but apparently not.” 

Boggart, boggart- Gilbert’s mind seized on the word. “There’s a defense spell for them, do that!” He yelled, wincing as the snake’s tail shook the tree. 

“I don’t know the spell!”

“You what?!” Gilbert howled. “How do you not know the spell?!”

Bash’s glare could be felt through the darkness. “How about you stop running your mouth and cast the spell yourself!”

“I don’t have my wand, I’m underage!” Gilbert yelled, and Bash cursed again. 

“Then use that large head of yours and figure something out!” The snake swiped again and they split up. 

Boggart spell, boggart spell... Gilbert’s thoughts raced, trying to remember exactly what Professor Luewellyn had taught them. They feed on fear, and 

“Bash!” Gilbert called. “You have to think of something funny!”

“ What?!”

“Think of something funny and shout ‘riddikulus!” Gilbert said. “That’s the spell!”

“What kind of a spell has you thinking about something funny first?” Bash demanded to know. 

“Just do it!” Gilbert screamed. “Before we end up as breakfast!” 

There was no reply, only the sound of Bash’s grunts as he tried to avoid the snake’s attacks. Gilbert felt around the ground and found a stone. He threw it as hard as he could at the boggart. It hit the creature in the head.

“Over here!” He yelled, waving his arms up and down. Maybe, with a distraction, Bash could cast the spell. 

The snake started towards him than wavered, confused. It began flickering in and out again, turning a ghastly white color as if it were sick, then back to a dark jade.

“ RIDDIKULUS,” Bash yelled, and the boggart let out an earth shattering scream as it vanished. 

Gilbert and Bash both collapsed to the ground, exhausted. 

“Give me five minutes,” Bash muttered. “And then we’re apparating to the village instead.”

“Yeah, ok,” Gilbert agreed, shaken. “That sounds like a good idea. 

***

“Woooo!! Go Diana!!” Anne shouted as the players zipped through the air. Diana turned midair and waved at her, before shooting back to the other side of the pitch. 

“I can’t watch, I can’t watch,” Ruby said, covering her eyes. “What if she gets hurt? What if she falls?”

“She won’t fall Ruby,” Cole said, gripping his banner corner tight. He and Anne had spent most of the weekend working on it. “Diana’s an excellent flyer.”

“But the wind, ” Ruby moaned. “It’s terrible today!”

Ruby had a point - it was the windiest day so far, and Cole was a little concerned that the banner would rip in two. 

“If it were too windy, they wouldn’t let the game begin,” Cole assured Ruby. “There have always been December games, and no one has ever fallen off because of wind.” 

“Come on Ruby, we promised Diana we would support her!” Anne cajoled her friend. “That’s the whole reason you and Cole agreed to watch from the Ravenclaw stands, so we could do it together. You can’t support her if you aren’t even watching!”

“I’m supporting her on the inside,” Ruby sniffed, then yelped as a Billy sent a bludger whizzing past one of the Ravenclaw players. The whole of Ravenclaw house booed loudly, but Billy just smirked as he flew past them. 

Cole watched with no small amount of disgust. Billy Andrews had never been his favorite person, despite growing up in the same town. Their parents had pushed them together for play dates more than once, but they had never clicked. Cole had found Billy’s bossiness and demand for physical games exhausting, and Billy thought him odd for wanting to draw all the time. They had hardly spoken more than a few words since Cole started Hogwarts. Lately though, Billy had been glaring at him whenever he saw him walking with the other Gryffindor third and fourth years; Josie Pye had been insisting that the two groups mingle more. 

“Watch this,” Cole nudged Ruby, and he prodded the banner with his wand. The image changed from its bold support of Diana to a hand-drawn Ravenclaw eagle swooping down and snatching up a serpent in its claws, strangling it. Cole had enjoyed drawing this, even going the extra mile to make the serpent’s head bigger than it should be, and painting silver scales on the serpent’s back that looked suspiciously like the number 3 - Billy’s own number. 

Ruby’s delighted giggle set off a ripple effect, and soon the whole Ravenclaw section was laughing and cheering at the banner, led by Anne. The uproar caught the attention of the other stands as well as the players in the air. 

Cole grinned delightedly at Anne. It was strange, openly showing his art to other students, but Anne was right; they loved it, and the gratification was heart-warming. 

“Cole!” Cole stared at Anne, puzzled why she suddenly shouted his name, eyes and mouth wide in horror. She was looking past him, into the air-

Cole threw his arms up in a weak defense as the bludger smashed into him, knocking him back into the stands. Pain coursed through him like fire, burning the worst in his wrist. 

Cole screamed. 

He was only vaguely aware of everything else happening. Anne and Ruby were crying out his name, some of the older Ravenclaws were trying to immobilize the bludger. He thinks he cried, but the cold froze the tears before they even started to fall. 

Suddenly Professor Allen and Twycross were looking him over, a crowd of students, quidditch players and professors circling. 

Billy was there, face pale and sounding terrified as he kept repeating something.“I’m so sorry.....the wind....it was an accident,” was all Cole could make out. 

“Let me see,” Madam Edgecomb prodded Cole’s right arm and Cole’s body gave out. 

The last thing he saw as the darkness filled in was Billy’s cruel smile. 

*** 

Anne woke up in the middle of the night hardly three days into the Christmas holiday, dread curling in her stomach. Something felt very, very wrong. She threw back the covers to her bedsheets and was met with the sight of blood staining the crisp white fabric. “Oh no no no,” Anne moaned, bile and despair rising in her throat.

She had seen this a few times, back when she was in service. Women who seemed to be in perfect health would suddenly be unable to leave their bed, and they would lose blood by the bucketful from between their legs, leaving them in terrible pain. None of those women had survived.

 She rushed downstairs to the wash basin, holding out her sheets in horror. How could this be happening? Anne had been so healthy! She scrubbed at the sheets furiously, blinking back tears.

She was thirteen – she wasn’t ready to die! Not when she had just only started really living!

How long did she have? It was the middle of the night, would Anne even make it through the day? That wasn’t enough time, how could she manage in one day to say farewell to such a wonderful, wonderful world and all of her dearly loved kindred spirits!

Anne choked back a sob as she scrubbed at the sheets harder.

“Anne?” Marilla was standing at the foot of the stairs, holding a lantern in the wrong hand. “Anne whatever is the matter?”

“I’m sorry!” Anne cried, her voice thick with tears. “I’m sorry I disturbed you and –and. Oh Marilla I am so very sorry that you did all this for nothing, the last two years, wasted on a bad egg, I’m so so sorry,” Anne was crying openly now, the tears falling with gentle plinks into the washing water.

“Anne whatever are you talking about?” Marilla asked, crossing the room quickly. She waved her wand and the lamps in the room all lit up.

“I never got to learn how to change my hair color,” Anne realized, and somehow that simple thought sobered her. The absolute tragedy of it all – even in death, she would bear this awful red hair color.

“If you want to send me to the hospital for the rest of my days, I completely understand.” Anne sniffed. “Just – please, not a muggle one? I wouldn’t be able to stay in touch with my friends until my final breath at a muggle one, the owls would never deliver there-“

“Oh Anne,” Marilla sighed as she saw what was in the washbasin. “that imagination will really work you into a state one day.” She muttered to herself. Then, frank as could be- “You’re not dying.”

“Could you plant the snapdragons on my grave? I always loved the bunch in Greenhouse two-“

“Anne you are not dying!” Marilla repeated, exasperated. Anne stopped scrubbing and looked at her, not understanding.

“You’re in your women flowering time,” Marilla explained, placing a gentle hand on Anne’s shoulder. “And it’s perfectly normal.”

Anne stared at her, aghast.

“But I’m not ready to be a woman!”

“Well, it’s the way of it,” Marilla said, not at all sympathetic to Anne’s terrible plight.

“This must be some sort of mistake,” Anne moaned. Truly, this was almost as bad as dying. It held a same sort of dreaded finality to it. “There’s no way any fates could think it was time for me to be a women!”

“Fate has nothing to do with it,” Marilla scolded, as she always did when Anne brought up fanciful notions like fates or destinies. “It happens to every girl, when the time comes. Now, let’s get you sorted,” Marilla began to bustle around the kitchen, fetching materials and rattling off instructions about how to care for clothes and wash them afterwards.

“So you had to deal with this too?” Anne asked, glancing at Marilla. That fact was a little comforting – Marilla was as strong and as healthy as a hippogriff. If she got through this, so could Anne.

“I did, for many years,” Marilla answered in her usual matter of fact tone.

“ Years?!” Anne repeated in horror. She thought this was a one time rite of passage!

“Your cycle is a few days every month,” Marilla explained.

“Every month? ” Anne could feel the tears starting up again. “But why? Why is this happening now, I’m not ready, I can’t-“

“Anne?” Matthew came hurdling into the kitchen, trying to see what was going on. “Anne are you alright?”  Anne wailed.

“Matthew out!” Marilla snapped, and her brother back pedaled instantly.

“This is a nightmare,” Anne moaned, and Marilla hesitated before pulling Anne closer to her, rubbing her arm up and down her back in a comforting motion.

“There there,” Marilla soothed. “It will be alright, Anne, just calm yourself. We’ll get this all sorted and I can show you all the spells my mother taught me to deal with it. All the other girls are probably going through the same thing this year.”

“How horribly unfair,” Anne grumbled. “Do boys have to deal with something equally horrible?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Marilla admitted. Anne scowled into Marilla’s arm.

“How about you help me decorate the house for Christmas today, and then we can make some hot cocoa and biscuits.” Marilla offered, stroking Anne’s hair. “That will help, you’ll see.”

“At least Jerry isn’t here,” Anne said. “This is humiliating enough.”

“Just be glad it didn’t happen in the school year,” Marilla shook her head. “I thought Lucretia was going to faint right away, with how pale she got.”

“Really?” Anne asked in a small voice.

“Really,” Marilla snorted. “Lucretia could give you a run for your money when it came to dramatics, Anne.”

"Marilla how can you call it being dramatic, when I thought I was dying! ”

Marilla gave a very tired sigh. 

***

The rest of the Christmas holiday was shaping up to be rather pedestrian in comparison to the excitement of the first few days.  

The Christmas that year was one of the coldest in history, and Anne spent the first few days holed up inside Green Gables, forbidden from going outside by Marilla. 

“I think you’ve spent enough time outside for the next few months,” Marilla sniffed, and Anne ducked sheepishly at the reminder of her excursion into the forbidden forest the previous month. She, Cole and Jerry had had detention every night for a week. 

So Anne was stuck inside. Jerry had gone home this year, as his family had managed to come into enough money to pick him up from London, to the boy’s delight. Anne had been happy for him, but it was strange not having him at Green Gables for the holidays. 

Anne did her best to fill the time with amusing activities. By Christmas, she had already finished all of her schoolwork, and written five new short stories that were sent off to Ruby and Diana for critique right away. Matthew taught her how to play marbles, and Anne continued to steadily plough through the alchemy book Nate had given her. Even just a few pages at a time took extraordinarily long to get through. Anne frequently had to pause to look up magical principles or property laws in whatever advanced potions or transfiguration books Matthew and Marilla had on hand. It was tiresome work, and many times Anne was tempted to give up for sheer frustration. But then she would see Nate and Mr. Dunlop back from their workshop, radiating with secret knowledge, and Nate would tease her if she had finally put the book back, and Anne’s determination would come back ten-fold. 

Letters also flew in and out of Green Gables at an unprecedented rate, and Diana would floo over whenever she could (her mother was also not permitting her out of doors) to go over the letters with Anne and pen their replies. 

“One would think you had been seperated for years, instead of mere weeks,” Marilla remarked at breakfast one morning as Cole and Ruby’s latest letters arrived with the post. “My goodness, what is that letter written in? Gnomish?” Marilla peered over Anne’s shoulder as she hastily broke the seal on Cole’s envelope. 

“Ancient Runes,” Anne informed her, already reading the letter. “Ruby, Cole and I all take it, and we thought it would be a fun practice to exchange letters in it over the holiday. That’s why Diana has to come over - she doesn’t take runes, so I translate the letter for her.” 

“Well, it’s good to see that you’re enjoying your new classes,” Marilla said, a little bemused but smiling all the same. 

“Oh Ancient Runes is fascinating, ” Anne said, always ready to talk about her favourite topic - school. “The signs are so unique and the way Professor Archen sounds when she reads it aloud is so enchanting,” Anne sighed dreamily. “And of course, Jerry, Cole and I are having such fun in Care of Magical Creatures, though I do wish Diana took that class as well.”

“And what about Arithmacy?” Matthew asked, and Anne scowed heavily. 

“I am determined not to think about that class during such a wonderful and cheerful holiday, lest it should marr my vacation,” Anne said stoutly. “Though it truly is a headache and a half, Matthew; I thought I was alright at maths but arithmacy makes everything so very complicated. I fear I shall never master it.” 

“Glad to see you’re not letting it ruin the holiday,” Marilla said tartly. “Eat your eggs before they get cold.”

“You’ll get it,” Matthew patted Anne’s hand. “Always do, don’t ya?” 

“Anne! Anne!” Diana tumbled out of the fireplace in an uncharacteristically clumsy manner, covered in soot. She was waving two letters wildly. 

“My goodness Diana!” Marilla gasped, magically banishing the soot from her dress. 

“I am so sorry Ms Cuthbert but I just had to tell Anne the good news right away,” Diana said in a rushed voice. “Oh Anne! I’ve never been so excited - Aunt Josephine sent us both invitations to her Winter Soiree!”

“The one she told us about last Christmas - where everything is like the summer?” Anne squealed. “Oh I am in the thoroughs of delight Diana!” She turned to Matthew and Marilla immediately, clasping her hands together. “Oh please say I can go, please, Matthew, Marilla, it’s supposed to be the most grand affair-” 

“Is your family going to?” Marilla asked Diana sharply. Diana’s smile falted a little. 

“Well - no. Father is expecting an important business contact to arrive that same night, and Minnie May is too young for such a party, so they won’t be attending. But we can floo straight there from my living room.” 

“I dare say you are all a bit too young for such frivolity,” Marilla remarked, inspecting the invitation. Anne and Diana exchanged wide-eyed look, seeing their night of pleasure slipping away from them. 

“I thought we were practically women now?” Anne attempted, and Marilla gave her an unimpressed look. 

“I’m sure that Mrs Barry wouldn’t have invited them if she didn’t think them old enough,” Matthew tried, and Anne gave him a grateful look. 

“It’s really very proper,” Diana added on quickly. 

“I’m sorry girls, but I can’t condone such attendance at a grown up party without even a chaperone,” Marilla refused. “It simply isn’t well looked on.” 

Diana’s face fell, but Anne’s mind was already whirrling. 

Her eyes lit upon the letter still on the breakfast table. 

“What if we could find a chaperone?” Anne asked. “Could we go then?” 

Marilla gave her a suspicious look, but ultimately nodded. “I suppose that, if you can find a trustworthy person to accompany the two of you, then yes, you may go!” 

“Thank you Marilla!” Anne squealed, flinging her arms around her, before turning and ushering Diana up to her room. “Come on Diana, we need to write to Cole right away! ” 

***

“Wow,” Anne breathed, staring around the room in wonder. “So this is a summer soiree in the winter. Oh, Aunt Jo, it’s magnificent. ”

“Glad you approve my dear,” Aunt Jo smiled at the three fondly. “This was always Gertrude’s area of expertise. After she passed, I didn’t think I would ever have the heart to hold it again.” 

“What made you change your mind?” Anne asked curiously. “If it isn’t too bold of me to ask.” 

“I realized that it wouldn’t be what Gertrude wanted,” Aunt Josephine sighed fondly. “It’s the very reason she had the soiree, you know. She thought everyone needed a spot of sunshine and cheer in the wintertime, to get the spirits raised.”

“She sounds like a wonderful person,” Anne said wistfully. “You must have been the dearest of bosom friends, Aunt Jo.”

“I suppose we were, in our own way,” Aunt Jo agreed. “She was my companion for nearly my whole life, of the mind and heart.”

“Oh how lovely,” Anne breathed. “I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have liked you, dear one, I have no doubt. You remind me a great deal of her,” Aunt Jo smiled at the redheaded girl. “Now, go on upstairs with Diana and that lovely young gentleman. I believe that you all have some party preparations to do before the celebrations begin.”

Anne, Diana and Cole had never before seen a party like Aunt Josephine’s – or indeed, people like the guests at the Summer Soiree. A great number of them were muggleborns or non-purebloods, or even a few squibs, and Anne listened to them share stories of “Downtown London,” muggle and magic alike, with rapt fascination.

Spells flew across the room with childish abandon, as the party guests took delight in sending color charms and tickling jinxes at each other, or turning hats and scarves into bright tropical birds.

“Isn’t it just amazing, ” Anne cried, dragging Diana into the middle of the dance floor. “No one is dressed normally!”

“It isn’t just that,” Cole said, appearing behind them. He was grinning more widely than Anne had seen him in weeks, ever since Billy had hit the bludger at him and broken his wrist. (Madam Edgecomb had set it right, but Cole complained that it shook whenever he tried to draw with charcoal. As the weeks passed, he had only grown surlier about the matter, refusing to address Anne’s questions about it in their letters.)

But now, two hours into Aunt Josephine’s party, and he was beaming like a being of light, nearly floating on air instead of being weighed down.

“They’re almost all artists!” Cole told them excitedly, looking around them starry eyed. “See that woman, over there? She’s created a whole new way of making landscapes move in paintings. And there was another one, a man, he’s a poet Anne you have to meet him. Oh, and see her! The one who’s robes look like they’re made of live swans? She’s a sculpter , she was telling me all about how she uses the magic infused in the earth and clay in her work, it’s incredible . And it makes your wrist strong!”

“You could use it to fix your wrist!” Diana beamed at him, and Cole’s joy practically radiated off of him.

“Diana?” Aunt Jo swooped down on them, a bright magenta plumage amid a jungle of flowers and parakeets. “There’s someone I would like you to meet, if I can borrow you for a moment.”

“Of course Aunt Jo,” Diana responded warmly. “I’ll catch up with you later, after your reading Anne,” she said, and Anne grinned with excitement as Cole began to lead her over to the aforementioned poet.

Aunt Jo guided Diana expertly through the crowd, nodding here and there as everyone turned to toast her with warm praise and hearty greetings.

“Ah, here we are,” Aunt Jo said finally, pulling Diana forward gently toward a lovely brunette lady, whose simple red and gold robes looked slightly out of place among the more eccentric outfits.

“Emmeline, this is my dear niece Diana,” Aunt Jo said, as Diana gave her best curtsy. “Diana, this is Emmeline Perensie, a dear friend and longtime captain of the Holyhead Harpies.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Diana’s manners, instilled sharply early on by her mother, managed to override the spike of excitement as she looked at Perensie. Here, right in front of her, was a real quidditch star! And a woman no less!

“How do you do Diana,” Emmeline smiled kindly. “Your aunt tells me that you play on your house team at Hogwarts, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Diana said. “It’s only been a few months, but I am enjoying it a great deal.”

“Just nothing better in the world than flying, is there?” Emmeline asked with a knowing smile, and Diana nodded eagerly.

“Emmeline just came back from doing a special match in Greece,” Aunt Josephine said. “Her career takes her all over, and she’s even listed as a possibility for the next World Cup.”

"Now Josephine, don’t go jinxing me!” Emmeline laughed. “So Diana, do you want to play quidditch after Hogwarts?”

“Oh, I don’t think that would be possible,” Diana responded airly, smiling at the idea of imaging her in proper robes, trying to wrestle with a quaffle. How silly the image was! “There aren’t many adult community leagues, at least not near where I live. I do hope that I will be able to fly regularly, if my husband is okay with such a notion, and perhaps we can attend a quidditch match from time to time.”

“Oh,” Emmeline said, exchanging a look with Josephine. Diana saw that her aunt’s smile had vanished, replaced by creases and lines. Diana worried she had said something wrong.

“You know Diana,” Emmeline spoke gravely. “There are other options out there for those who dare. Not just the Harpies either, I know female players on several other teams.”

“Oh I-“ Diana faltered, trying to wrap her head around what Emmeline was saying. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“Just something to think about,” Emmeline said, her voice kind but still so very serious. It reminded Diana of how Professor Twycross sounded when he gave a speech – as if they were all being given the most important advice that could alter their destiny. “I know what it’s like to find freedom in the sky, Diana. Don’t give that feeling up for anything.”

Diana could only nod dumbly, and then Aunt Josephine was pulling her away, saying it was time for Anne’s recitation. Diana found Cole and they made their way to the front of the gathered crowd, where Anne stood radiant and ready to bring words to life.

“Anne fits right in, doesn’t she,” Cole said admirling, and Diana nodded in fierce agreement. Here, in this room full of colors and strange adults and thinkers, Anne blended seamlessly.

Diana pulled herself out of her head to listen to Anne’s recitation. Emmeline’s confusing words could wait for another time. At the moment, Diana refused to miss a word of Anne’s reading.

Anne read like she was born to it, as she always did, bring words to life with the sound of her voice alone. The sentences and phrases were turned to lyrics of poetry through Anne, and the whole room listened with intent. Diana felt near bursting with pride for her best friend.

When Anne finished the crowd broke out into applause, causing Anne’s cheeks to go red. Aunt Josephine stepped up to thank Anne, and to raise a toast to Gertrude, when Cole’s sculpture idol with a top hat raised her glass for a toast.

“And to Jo and Gertie!” The woman cried, to raucous support. “A model to us all how to live our lives of laughter, goodness and love for one another. Their relationship gives us all something to aspire to,” she tipped her glass toward Josephine. Diana’s aunt had a sad sort of smile on her face, as if torn between gladness and crying.

Diana frowned a little at the woman’s speech – she wasn’t sure she was understanding all of it correctly.

“To the most wonderful couple, and my romantic ideal,” the woman continued. “Gertie and Jo!”

The room broke out into applause again, but Diana didn’t join in.

The woman’s words didn’t make any sense – she spoke as if Aunt Gertrude and Aunt Jo had been married.

“What do you think that woman meant?” Diana asked Anne later, as they danced together. Cole was dancing with her aunt not far off. “By romantic ideal?”

For the first time since they met, the answer Anne gave didn’t satisfy Diana.

She went looking for answers in her aunt’s bedroom. She doesn’t know what to feel about the ones she found.

 *

It all came out later, in the darkened, hushed walls of her and Anne’s room. Aunt Jo and Gertrude had loved each other in that way. Like Diana’s parents did. Anne takes to this news as if it were a normal part of life, and Cole smiles in cautious wonder.

“I knew them my whole life,” Diana told Anne and Cole, clutching her flower crown tightly. “My whole life, and they never – not once…” Diana isn’t sure if she’s angry or wants to cry at how much she had misunderstood her whole childhood. “They never told us; they choose to keep it a secret. My parents certainly never knew. Why would they do that? Why, unless it wasn’t – wasn’t right? ”

Anne reads an inscription, words of doting love from Diana’s aunt to the love of her life, and she and Cole smile as if that held all the answers.

“Isn’t it a most beautiful thought?” Anne asked, leaning against the bedpost. “There’s just so many more possibilities now. So many more ways people can love each other.”

“Anne!” Diana looks at her friend wide eyed. “How can you be okay with such a thing? Two witches – they could never have children, never pass on the magical bloodline-“

“Maybe love is more than that,” Cole says quietly, and both girls turned to listen. “Diana, don’t you think, if someone- if Aunt Jo spent her whole life thinking something was wrong with her, that she was broken or wrong and no magic in the world could fix her, and then one day she found someone and learned that none of that was true – doesn’t that have to be right, after all?”

“It’s spectacular,” Anne whispers, as she and Cole share a private smile.

Diana turned over the flower crown in her hands. She didn’t know what to think.

She wasn’t even sure what was upsetting her the most – the knowledge that such a truth had been hidden all these years, the truth itself, or even that it was a possibility at all.

***

“I – I think I’m like you,” Cole said in a rush, and he felt both terrified and lighter saying it.

The older witch smiled warmly at him. “It won’t be easy,” she admitted, “but you have a life of joy ahead of you, Master McKenzie. I hope I will get to see some of it.”

***

An untimely blizzard meant that the February Hogsmeade trip was cancelled, much to the students’ dismay, and Josie Pye decided to strike then.

She gathered up nearly all of the third and fourth years across all the houses in an abandoned classroom, head high as she dared anyone to leave.

No one did. Josie was very much the queen of the lower years, and no one wanted to be on her bad side. Besides, boredom and curiosity made for good intrigue.

“The game is called Wand Spin,” Josie announced, commanding them all into a large circle. “My older cousin taught it to me. We place a wand in the middle and spin it, and who ever it falls on have to kiss each other.”

A flurry of excited whispers broke out in the circle. Anne’s gaze met Diana’s, Ruby and Jane almost automatically, and they all shook their heads knowingly. Josie had yet to give up her crush on Cole, and they all knew the real reason they were playing this game.

“We’ll use my wand,” Josie said, placing it down carefully before seating herself between Tilly and a fourth year Slytherin girl. “Moody, you go first.”

Moody spun the wand nervously, shooting a few obvious looks at some of the prettier fourth year girls, and even one in Diana and Jane’s direction. The wand landed on a Hufflepuff fourth year named Gertie, who Anne was pretty certain was related distantly to Josie.

  Both of the Hufflepuffs were blushing, and Moody nearly knocked Gertie over as she stood up, but they pecked each other one the lips quickly before retreating just as fast.

Not exactly the pinnacle of grand romance Anne thought critically. She was hoping no one would make her spin the wand – or worse, that someone else’s spin would land on her. She didn’t want her first kiss to be in front of a bunch of gawping classmates, let alone with one of her peers. Most of the boys gathered were by far less than desirable, and even the ones left were certainly not a romantic ideal.

No, Anne wanted her first kiss to be like something out of story, all sunbeams and fairy laughter, with one who was her equal and partner in all things, who thought she was pretty despite her red hair, and smartest being in the room.

A certain handsome alchemist fringed on the edge of her thoughts, and Anne had to cut off that daydream before it even started.

Josie commanded the group with an iron grip, declaring who would be the next victim as soon as the latest would break apart. So far none of Anne’s had been subjected, but everyone was eyeing each other with equal parts suspicion, fear, and the glee of doing something they knew they weren’t supposed to.

Really, Anne thought, disgusted. Josie Pye somehow had the power to influence whole groups and she used it to sow fear and humiliation to divide them all. It was absolutely low, nothing like the heroes that everyone said Godric Gryffindor would boast of.

One of Billy’s cronies, Solomon was spinning, his buddies snickering like a pack of hyenas. The wand spun and spun –

-and landed on Anne.

“No way,” Solomon said, making a retching noise. “No way am I kissing that ugly orphan mudblood, she’s probably god fleas-“

Anne’s face burned and Josie Pye looked like Christmas had come again.

“Yeah, if she’s playing, I’m out,” Billy declared, and the rest of his Slytherin cronies followed suit, the words were rippling around the circle. Anne sat frozen, with no idea what to do. Josie and Gertie were laughing loudly, and Billy started barking, nearly a dozen voices joining in-

“I want to kiss Anne.”

Everything stopped.

They all stared at Cole, who had scrambled to his feet, holding his head high. He helped Anne to her feet as their classmates all watched them. Josie Pye looked like she swallowed a lemon, Diana glanced between them like she is trying to decide if this would end well, while Ruby beamed at them.

Then Billy began to laugh at them again, high and cold. “Makes perfect sense, the two freaks that no one else wants,” he sneered. “Go ahead freaks, kiss.”

Anne gave Cole a wide-eyed look; how was this supposed to happen? Did his kiss her, did she kiss him? What was the plan? But Cole just returned her look, as if he had no plan after standing up.

“Kiss freaks kiss! Kiss freaks kiss!” Billy started chanting, and his friends took up the words quickly.

“Kiss freaks kiss! Kiss freaks kiss! Kiss freaks kiss!” The words surrounded them, Hufflepuffs and Slytherin’s and Gryffindors and Ravenclaws all mocking them. Anne and Cole were the only one standing, and yet Anne had never felt smaller. The chant picked up volume, growing until they felt like a physical wall forcing Anne in. Memories of another circle, made up of shrieking girls in white threadbare nightgowns, threatened to overspill into reality.

“Kiss freaks kiss! Kiss freaks kiss!”

Dimly, she heard Diana yell at Josie to stop, and Jane and Ruby beg Billy to stop. When she looked around the circle, her vision swam with dozens of laughing and jeering teenagers, hands and fists and jagged smiles in every corner. She saw Musa and Cetus watching it all unfold with horror, Moody and some of the fourth year Ravenclaws looking around like they didn’t know what to do. Jerry had practically tackled one of the other Hufflepuffs, wrestling with him on the ground as they shouted indistinctly.

Anne took it all in.

“Kiss freaks kiss! Kiss freaks kiss!”

And than Anne reacted.

She pulled Cole towards her and dipped him like in one of their games. Cole looked up at her in surprise as she swiftly pecked him on the cheek.

Cole started laughing, loud and carefree. Anne laughed as well, the ridiculousness of it all setting in.

Josie Pye could do her worst, Anne decided. Better a freak than a bully anyways.

***

Nate kept an ear open, waiting for the tell tale huffing and puffing that meant Professor Parkinson, the astronomy professor, was making his daily trek up to the astronomy tower, right past Nate and Jonsey’s workroom.

As soon as the familiar heavy breathing and labored gasps were close enough, Nate started his act. He let out an enraged yell, knocking over his “notes” over the stone floor and banging the window open as if he had just thrown something.

"What am I supposed to do!” He yelled theatrically – Nate’s mother had always said that he had a flair for the dramatic. If he were still in touch with her, he might have thanked her for all the practice he got as a child.

“My heaven and stars- is everything quite alright, you man?” A feeble voice wheezed. Parkinson wasn’t that old, but his reedy voice and premature grey streaked hair made him appear far more than his middle aged years.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Nate made a show of apologizing. “Forgive me Professor Parkinson, what you must think at me carrying on like this.”

“Oh no worries, no worries,” Parkinson waved a hand, peering around the upturned room. “You’re the young alchemist, right? One of the ones that’s staying with the Cuthberts.”

“Yes,” Nate said, still making his breathing heavy. “Me and Master Dunlop – sorry, he’s out for the moment, he needed air when we realized, what we found –“ Nate stopped, letting the words dangle in the air. Parkinson had to take the bait.

“A bad discovery, I take it?” Parkinson lamented, eyes zeroing in on the complicated alchemic circles scrawled onto the walls.

“No, just the opposite- except – well,” Nate gave another frustrated groan, acting all the world like a man bearing a cross. “Professor Parkinson, can you keep a secret?”

The man’s eyes gleamed. “But of course, sir,” the man simpered, coming closer. “My lips are sealed; it would take a truth potion to force me otherwise.”

Hook.

“Its our experiment,” Nate said, watching the man closely for signs of interest. “It’s – well, it’s top secret, from a German alchemy center, we were sent here because of all the sources saying the magic centered at Hogwarts makes alchemy work like nowhere else. We were meant to find ways to stabilize alchemy results to have them last longer but we never dreamed that instead-“ He paused again, pretending to lose his nerve. Parkinson leaned forward.

“I shouldn’t be saying this,” Nate shook his head. “It’s, its confidential, my company could fire me, but these findings, they could change everything-“

“Now now, I won’t say a word,” Parkinson said hastily. “Let it out young man, it sounds like something heavy is on your mind.” The astronomy professor looked like a wild dog who had found its next source of scraps.

“It’s the greatest alchemic mystery,” Nate whispered. “Trying to recreate from base materials the purest metal known to mankind.”

Line.

Parkinson’s eyes widened with greed. “You don’t mean – gold?” he said reverently.

“You can’t tell anyone! ” Nate reminded him, and Parkinson is already nodding as he backed out of the room, muttering about classes.

Sinker.

The news was all around the castle by the next morning.

***

For days, nothing can be accomplished as all everyone wants to talk about is the gold.

“How is it supposed to work?” Ruby asked Anne during History of Magic one day, and everyone leaned forward to hear.

“Nate wasn’t able to explain it to me,” Anne told her. “He said it would be too complicated for me to handle without any alchemy training. All I know is he said it had to do with goblin made items, because they’re so well constructed and goblin work always maintains its quality over time.”

“Isn’t that book you’re always reading all about alchemy?” Cole questioned, brow furrowed in confusion. He wasn’t even sketching today, all of them too enthused about the latest Hogwarts gossip.

“It’s basic alchemy,” Anne explained. “What Nate and Mr Dunlop discovered – it’s leagues above that. They’re rewriting alchemy as we know it!” She boasted. She was very proud of Green Gables boarders, ready to talk about them to whoever asked. Luckily, most of her peers wanted to know exactly that. Only Jerry, who had never taken to the two men, shed away.

“My father is holding a meeting for all the Hogsmeade villagers, and many of the sacred twenty-eight families,” Diana said. “I overheard him and Mother talking about investments when I stopped home last weekend. Father said it’s the opportunity of a life time- anyone who joins could become rich!”

“So long as they have goblin crafted items to put up for collateral,” Musa pointed out. “Those aren’t exactly easy to come by if you’re not in the “sacred twenty eight” families.”  A couple of them shifted uncomfortably at hardly concealed scorn in Musa’s words. The Sacred 28 wasn’t usually a determiner in the Hogwarts social scene, but that didn’t mean the divisions didn’t exist.

Jane politely navigated the conversation back to what they would do if each of them suddenly had gold to spend as they pleased, but Anne was only half paying attention.

If Diana’s father was right, then anyone with a magical heritage and therefore the possibility of goblin made heirlooms deserved to know of this chance.

“Can I borrow Alethia?” She asked Diana at dinner. “I need to write a letter to Gilbert Blythe.”

“Do you know where he is?” Diana asked, glancing at where Ruby was sitting at her table.

“No,” Anne admitted, but Diana just shrugged.

“Alethia can find him.”

***

“I look hideous ” Anne bawled as she held out her signature braids in front of her.

“I don’t think they look that bad,” Diana tried to comfort her devastated friend but Anne merely sobbed again.

“It’s only a spell, Anne,” Cole assured her. “It could have backfired on anyone. Give Irving some time and he’ll figure out how to reverse it. You’ll hair will be back to normal before you know it.”

“But what if no one can fix it?” Anne cried. “What if I’m stuck looking like this forever? ”

“Now now, no need for hysteria,” Marilla chided as she handed Anne a handkerchief. “Bad enough that you insist on hiding out in the kitchens, I don’t need you upsetting the house elves as well.”

“Miss Anne isn’t upsetting us!” Liddy said, but one stern glance from Marilla sent her skidding back to the other side of the kitchen with the others.

“Why on earth were you trying to cast a color charm anyway?” Marilla asked Anne. “I have never seen one backfire like this before.”

“I – I just wanted to get rid of that red hair,” Anne said. “I wanted to give myself black curls, like the ones Cordelia would have, but halfway through the spell I saw myself in the mirror and I realized I could never prefer my black hair over red, despite always thinking I would, and I tried to stop the spell and now its green. ” Anne wailed. “Oh Marilla, I should have listened to you! My vanity really did bring about the ruin of me, and I should have been content with my red hair, I know that now, but its too late! Instead I have to live with this hideous green hair!”

“It’s only for a few days,” Marilla soothed her. “Hopefully the lesson will last longer though.”

“Oh it will!” Anne promised. “I will never, ever want to change my hair again.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Jerry shrugged, and everyone stared at him. “So it’s green. Whatever, we’ve all seen weirder. Grown-ups wear robes daily and there are half-horse half human creatures living out in the forest. Why would green hair faze anyone?”

“Well said, Jerry,” Marilla said proudly, and even Anne looked a little calmer.

“It’s a very Slytherin color though,” Jerry added, grinning at Anne. “Thinking a change of house would suit you?”

Anne let out a wordless shriek and tried to leap at him.

“Children!” Marilla cried, but Pippin was already in the mix, egging them both on.

***

Anne avoided Nate and Mr. Dunlop for the whole week that her hair was green, unable to bear Nate seeing her like that all because she made a foolish mistake. Of course she couldn’t hope to understand his alchemy while she couldn’t even manage to cast a simple color changing charm! It was hubris to think otherwise.

“Well, don’t you look like a pretty penny today,” Nate smiled at her when she bounded into their quarters, and Anne blushed almost immediately.

“Anne! We’ve missed you this last week!” Mr. Dunlop said fondly, waving his wand to warm up the kettle in the corner. “Come in, have some tea. What has been going on with you? Any new exciting stories?”

“Sadly no,” Anne sighed. “I’ve been so busy with schoolwork that the story club hasn’t been able to meet in weeks! I’ve spent most of the last week in the library trying to understand my arithmancy lessons. I swear, it all makes sense when I see it in class but then I try it on my own and it all falls apart!”

“Arithmancy is hard,” Nate said, bending over a microscope. “You really got to work at it for hours.”

“You’ll get it though,” Mr. Dunlop said encouragingly. “I know you will Anne.”

“I bet you’re both great at arithmancy,” Anne swung her arms as she gazed around at all the equations and circles that littered the table. “You need a lot of it in alchemy, don’t you?”

“Arithmancy, transfiguration and potions,” Nate answered. Anne tried not to grimace – her three worst subjects. How was she ever going to be able to do alchemy at this rate? “You finished that book yet?”

“Almost done,” Anne told him proudly. “Soon you’ll have to start explaining it all to me like you promised.”

“We’ll see,” Nate teased, as Mr. Dunlop laughed. “She’s got you there Nate!” Mr. Dunlop laughed. “Maybe we’ll have an apprentice when we finally open shop.”

“So you’re going to do it?” Anne brightened. She hadn’t heard any new information about their discovery since Diana’s father’s party a few weeks ago. “You’re going to stay and start making alchemist gold?”

“We sure are,” Mr. Dunlop said cheerfully, ruffling her hair.

"Certain you aren’t going to get sick of us at Green Gables?” Nate looked up from the microscope, shooting a smile at her that made Anne’s heart skip a beat.

“Never!” Anne pictured a summer full of Mr Dunlop’s stories and songs and Nate’s smiles and felt like it couldn’t be more perfect than that. “How else am I going to get all my questions about alchemy asked? And I can watch your experiment in person! I admit, I’m still a little confused because chapter on gold in your book said that the fundamental problem was that gold was softer than other metals and I don’t understand how goblin magic would factor into the equation-“ Anne was so busy talking that she missed the sharp look Dunlop and Nate exchanged at her words.

“I’m afraid its all too complicated to explain right now,” Nate told her, running a hand through his hair. “It would take years of study for you to be able to understand, not to mention we’re still all working out the flaws in the process. But it’s coming along,” he gestured at the microscope he had just been looking at.

“There’s real gold in there?” Anne’s eyes widened.

“Do you want to see?” Nate offered, and Anne nodded eagerly. She bent over at the microscope, well aware of how close Nate stayed.

Anne blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the strange focus of the microscope lens. Finally, the blurry shapes snapped into clear images. Anne could see brown and red and grey particles, but nothing that looked like gold.

“I don’t see anything,” she frowned, pressing her eyes against the lens.

  “You have to look carefully,” Nate said softly. “They’re small right now, just tiny flecks. Almost impossible for someone to pick out without a trained eye.”

Anne strained her eyes harder, but nothing was there. She couldn’t admit that to Nate and Mr Dunlop though – what if they thought it meant she was stupid? What if they didn’t teach her anything else about alchemy?

“Oh, yes!” Anne said, trying to sound as if she had discovered something. “I see them! How – how exquisite!” She straightened, trying not to look guilty at the lie as Mr Dunlop and Nate smiled at her.

“Now, I do believe that it is time for us to get to Green Gables for some of Marilla’s delicious cooking, and for a certain young lady to get to supper,” Mr Dunlop ushered Anne out fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow my dear? I still want to learn how to make the wonderful almond cookies!”

“Only if you teach me how to make pecan pie!” Anne promised. “4 in the afternoon, at the kitchens!”

"I’ll be waiting,” Mr Dunlop promised. “But I expect a new story!”

Anne gave him a quick hug and ran along, her imagination already running amok with stories to bring with her tomorrow.

“Isn’t it wonderful, that they choose to come to Green Gables and Hogwarts?” Anne sighed over her potatoes that evening. Diana agreed, but Jerry just rolled his eyes.

“You’re so obsessed with them. I don’t get it. Isn’t it annoying having them there all the time?”

“Not at all!” Anne frowned at Jerry. She never understood his strange distrust of the two men. “You would know that if you ever stopped by while they were there!”

“They make me uneasy,” Jerry stabbed at his potatoes. “Just…be careful ok?”

“You’re so paranoid,” Anne said in exasperation.

Jerry muttered something in French and Diana couldn’t cough quite fast enough to hid her laughter.

“Diana what did he say?!”

***

“Wow,” Gilbert said as he and Bash broke past the bush Bash had apparated them into. Trinidad was as colorful as Bash had always described it, full of bird songs and bright palm trees and sun baked streets.

“How does this compare to your rainy island?” Bash elbowed him, grinning.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this,” Gilbert said, gazing around him. “All this time, this has just – been here and I never could have imagined it.”

Bash laughed. “Come on Blythe, lets get some food in you.”

“Can we go there?” Gilbert resisted the urge to point (it was rude) at where some women were bent over a large cooking pot, and some men were roasting meat on a spit.

“Nope,” Bash said. “You’re going to eat the best of bush medicine Blythe, don’t be fillin’ up on that stuff.”

“Oh come on Bash,” Gilbert begged, pausing in front of a cart of bright yellow fruit. The merchant flashed him a smile and held up two fingers, and Gilbert’s hand reached for his purse, wondering if he even had any muggle money left. Bash usually carried it – muggle money confused Gilbert.

“Ah ah, leave it Blythe,” Bash grabbed Gilbert around the shoulders and pulled him away. “Only the best I said!”

“Well why don’t I go and try some, to make sure it isn’t the best?” Gilbert muttered, shooting the cart a longing glance, and Bash just laughed at his misery.

Bash walked confidentially, leading Gilbert through the small port town and among some of the small beaten down dirt roads that were shrouded by bamboo and other tropical plants.

“There’s definitely no creatures that are going to jump out of the bamboo and attack us, right?” Gilbert asked, casting a wary glance toward the thick bush. “I’m pretty sure Capybara’s are supposed to like bamboo.”

“Nothing in there is going to attack you Blythe, except for some muggle beetles,” Bash shook his head. “We’re in the muggle part of the world remember? You get attacked by one boggart months ago and you start jumping at shadows.”

“Actually I was thinking of that Peruvian viper that attacked us last month,” Gilbert said mildly. “You know, at that waterfall you swore was safe.”

“We do seem to have a habit of being attacked often,” Bash frowned. “Must be you Blythe. I never dealt with this before you.”

“Sure, blame the new guy,” Gilbert rolled his eyes. “I’ll remember that when the next dark creature has you cornered.”

“And what are you going to do, shout at it?” Bash snorted. “You can’t do magic.”  Something squawked in the bush and both of them jumped.

“Just a parrot,” Bash muttered.

“You said that right before those vultures attacked too.”

“Shut your trap Blythe or you won’t get any food,” Bash paused, turning back toward the road. Faintly, Gilbert could make out the sound of horses in the distance. “Quick, quick, in there,” Bash hissed pushing Gilbert into the bamboo. They hid about ten feet in, crouched amid the shadows as a horse and buggy went by.

“What was that about?” Gilbert asked, but Bash just shook his head.

“Come on. Up ahead,” Bash said, and Gilbert followed without a word.

That didn’t stop him from wondering just why, if this was Bash’s home, they were sneaking in like foxes in a henhouse.

Bash cut through more of the brush, leading them around to the back of the house. An older woman was outside, stirring something in a large bowl. Gilbert caught a whiff in the air and breathed deeply. It smelled incredible, like meat and spices and something new. The woman nearly dropped her spoon when Bash stepped out from behind the house, and her hand flew to her mouth to stop a small outcry.

“Sebastian,” she said, pulling Bash into a tight hug. Gilbert felt a sense of bewilderment – Bash’s full name was Sebastian? Seven months of travelling and Bash had never told him that. Gilbert supposed it made sense. No one named their child Bash.

“Mama,” Bash said, wrapping his arms around her.

“ i ’me, i ’me,” Bash’s mother murmured, in a language Gilbert didn’t know but had sometimes heard Bash whisper into the night when he thought Gilbert was asleep. Bash tensed, but replied in the same language.

“You’ll bring yourself trouble, if you get caught here,” Bash’s mother said, finally letting go of Bash and stepping back. Her gaze landed on Gilbert and she froze.

“It’s alright Mama, this is Gilbert,” Bash said, and Gilbert offered out a hand. “We work together, we met on a steamship.”

“Is he-“ Bash’s mother glanced at the two of them.

“Yes, he’s like us,” Bash said. “Terrible at hiding it though,” he added, and Gilbert sighed as his mother looked askance at him.  

“Your son says this is where the best Trinidad bush medicine is?” Gilbert said, awkwardly taking his hand back. He snuck a glance at the pot where the food was sitting. “He’s been talking it up for the last seven months.”

“Of course, you must be hungry,” Mrs LaCroix said, motioning them to sit at the table. “Eat your fill, lord knows you probably don’t eat right out in the world.” She spooned them both generous portions, handing them the bowls just as a small boy came running out of the house. His hair was as fair as an English lad, which looked out of place with the rest of the scene.

“Hazel, Hazel!” The boy was shouting, then stopped short as he caught sight of Gilbert and Bash. Bash stiffened. “Who are they?”

“Just some travelers love,” Bash’s mother said quickly, scooping up the blonde boy and balancing them on her hip. “Passing through and looking for something to eat.”

“Why did you feed them?” The boy asked, still staring openly.

“Because that’s what the good Lord tells us to do,” Hazel reminded the little boy. “But they’re on their way now. They won’t be hanging about,” she eyed Bash as she said that, a sharp look in her eye.

“Maybe we can come back tomorrow-“ Bash started, but Hazel ignored the plea.

“No need for that; you already got what you good folks came for,” his mother said sternly. “Don’t be coming back around these parts, hear me?”

“Right,” Bash said softly. “Thank you for your kindness, sano, ” Bash said, and Hazel just nodded before turning her back and walking inside.

“Come on,” Bash said, tugging on Gilbert’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

They sat in tense silence for a while, as scraping the food from the bowls.

“This is delicious,” Gilbert exclaimed finally, savoring the taste. “If this was medicine I would want to be sick every day.”

“Glad you’re enjoying the fruits of slave labor,” Bash told him bitterly. Gilbert looked at him in shock.

“I thought slavery was made illegal for muggles over fifty years ago,” Gilbert blinked. “And it was never legal for wizards.”

“Don’t make a difference,” Bash said. “My grandmother never left those lands, and now my mother is stuck there too.”

“But the wizarding ministry-“

“Boy those people ain’t wizards,” Bash snorted. “They’re muggles, and nobody cares either way.”

“But what about school?” Gilbert pressed, unable to wrap his head around this information. “Your mom must have left for a while when she was learning magic. Why did she come back?”

Bash shook his head. “Blythe, ain’t no one like me at any wizarding school here. They don’t let our kind study magic. I’m not even allowed a wand.”

Several things fell into place then, all the strange quirks he had noticed over the last half a year. Gilbert felt like he had been hit over the head.

“But – you do magic,” Gilbert said, perplexed. “Wandless magic.”

“Just because we’re not allowed in some fancy schools don’t mean we’re totally in the dark,” Bash shrugged. “Trinidad’s been magic long before white folk came, and folks round here have long memories. Wands only came to south America about 200 years ago. Before that, we all did wandless magic, and there are those who still know the old ways, if you know where to look.”  

“So, you did go to school?” Gilbert asked. This was the most about himself Bash had ever shared, and Gilbert desperately wanted to put together the full picture.

“My granddad taught my mama what he could, and she passed it on to me every Sunday afternoon when I saw her,” Bash sighed, fingering the woven bracelet he wore around his wrist. “Scarce two hours most weeks and always full of warnings of what would happen should I be caught.”

“Didn’t make a difference though- I was too angry, and I couldn’t control it. Odd things kept happenin’ around me and them folks in that big house there started to notice. One night I saw that little boy’s father, no older than you, slap my mother across the face when she didn’t move fast enough. Next thing I knew he was across the room and bleedin’ and none of us had moved a muscle. Mama shoved a sack in my hands and told me to go before they caught me. I only came back once before, right before I jumped on my first steamship.”

“You couldn’t have been much older than a child when you left,” Gilbert said quietly. “Where did you go?”

“An old friend of my ma’s hid me for the night, than pointed me in the direction of someone who knew a little more about magic than the rest of us,” Bash said. “I hid up there with him for some years, gainin’ control, until some Ministry headhunters caught wind of us and we fled,” Bash chuckled darkly at the look on Gilbert’s face. “We aren’t allowed to practice magic without a license here, Blythe. Every time I cast a spell I’m breaking the law the government forced on me.”

“That’s awful,” Gilbert said. “Is that why you left?”

“That was part of it,” Bash answered. “Figured I learned all I could about Trinidad magic, and maybe there was someplace where someone like me could learn proper spells without havin’ to live in a cave.”

“Was there?”

"Not as often as there were places I would get myself killed for even admitting I knew about magic,” Bash said. “Eventually I just stuck to the muggle world. I hadn’t grown up in the magic word, so I blended in pretty well, and if something strange was happenin’ around me, no one was looking too closely.”

Gilbert shook his head. “I couldn’t imagine having to live apart from my magic,” he said quietly. “It must be awful.”

“There’s more to life than magic, Blythe,” Bash said quietly. “And magic isn’t the solution for everythin’. Muggles figured that out centuries ago.”

They finished the rest of their meal in silence. Bash waved his hand in front of the bowls, and they vanished silently.

“Come on, let’s go,” Bash said, and the two set off back toward town.

***

“Bash? Hey, Bash,” Gilbert called that night as they both slept in hammocks that Gilbert had known the spell for and Bash had conjured. “Baaaassssh.”

Bash decided to ignore him, and pretended to sleep.

Something hit against him and he opened his eyes to see Gilbert’s hat atop his chest, the boy smirking at him across the small fire. He kept his head against the hammock, hoping Gilbert would get the message.

“Sebastian,” Gilbert teased.

“Boy, I ought to hit you for calling me that,” Bash threatened, summoning his most angry glare. “Knock your smug face right off.” He deserved it, keeping Bash from sleeping.

Gilbert grinned. “I knew a girl back home, Anne, who hit me once like that. I called her carrots and she whacked me over the head with a textbook.”

“Good,” Bash grunted. “She should have done it twice.”

“She’s a redhead, fiery temper,” Gilbert continued, as if Bash had asked.

He hadn’t asked, for the record. Bash wanted to sleep, and Blythe was waking him up to talk nonsense.

“I called her carrots, and she hit me right across the face.” Bash stared at him. Why was he telling him about this. Had he woken Bash up just to ramble on about some girl?

“I wonder if I’ll ever see her again,” Gilbert said, staring up at the night sky.

“You keep talking and you won’t be seeing anyone again,” Bash warned him. To his annoyance, Gilbert chuckled.

Ugh. Bash was going back to sleep. 

***

He filed away that name though. Never know when he could use it to his advantage.

***

“Aunt Jo says she had tea with some of the best witches in Prague while she was there,” Diana said, skimming the letter she had just received from her aunt’s owl. The group of them were walking down to the kitchens together, Ruby, Anne, Cole and Jerry hanging on to Diana’s every word.  “She wants us to send more stories, and she demands when Cole starts drawing again he do a portrait of all of us,”

“She hasn’t even met me,” Jerry frowned. “Or Ruby.”

“Yeah but she’s heard about you,” Anne shrugged. “She’s read Ruby’s stories before, and Cole told her about our adventure in the forest.”

“Our horrific experience in the forest,” Cole corrected, and Jerry and Anne just shook their heads.

“Oh, apparently one of the women she met was an actual legilimens!” Diana said, excitedly. “Aunt Jo had her demonstrate and everything!”

“Really?” Ruby exclaimed. “Those are really rare!”

“What’s a legilmens?” Anne questioned, peering over Diana’s shoulder.

“Someone who can read minds,” Diana explained. “They just look at you and they can tell what you’re thinking and access all of your thoughts.”

Anne stopped walking, her eyes wide.

“Anne? What’s wrong?” Cole asked. Anne looked as if she had just been told something terrible.

“Jerry,” Anne said, utterly serious. “ Marilla must be a legilimens.”

Jerry stopped short as well, with a horrified gasp. “It all makes sense,” he breathed.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Diana sighed, as Cole rolled his eyes. “You’re both being dramatic, Marilla is not able to read your mind-“

“She totally is,” Anne whispered, and Jerry nodded vigorously.

 “Oh my god, Anne.”

***

“Oi Blythe,” Bash called, peering up at the trees. “I think someone is looking for you.”

Gilbert frowned. “What are you – woah!” Something shot out of the sky at him, causing him to duck wildly.

Bash laughed at him. “Very brave Blythe,” he called.

“What was that,” Gilbert spun wildly, searching for whatever creature had decided to target them now.

His answer was in the form of a majestic snowy white owl, perched on his hammock. Her golden eyes blinked slowly, looking rather unimpressed.

“I’ve seen you face down a loose baby chimera with me, and you duck and roll away from an owl,” Bash snorted.

“A little warning would have been nice,” Gilbert grumbled. He approached the owl cautiously, spying the creased envelope tied to her leg. It looked like it had been there for a while.

Gilbert Blythe was all that was written on the envelope, in tidy cursive. Gilbert racked his brains, wondering who possibly could have sent him a letter that found him in the depths of Mexico.

He opened the envelope carefully and set it aside to unfold the letter.

Dear Gilbert… he skipped ahead, flipping over the paper to find the signature.

S incerely, Anne Shirley Cuthbert.

Gilbert stared at the signature, his brain trying to make sense of it even as something like excitement rose in him.

Anne had written to him. About what, he hardly could guess, but she had written him.

She had really nice handwriting, he bet her essays were always clear to read.

He flipped the paper over, scanning the actual message.

“Fancy envelope,” Bash noted, picking up the envelope and flipping it over. “Who’s it from?”

Gilbert snatched the envelope back, glaring. Bash raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

" Must be someone special, they bothering to reach you after all this time.”

Gilbert ignored him, holding the envelope tightly as he scanned the rest of the letter.

The shock must have been evident on his face, because Bash instantly asked him what the letter said, trying to grab it. Gilbert moved it out of reach automatically, his brain still trying to process what Anne had just written him.

“ Alchemists are making gold in Hogwarts?!”

***

Bash insisted they give the owl (Alethia, Anne had written) at least a week to recover (“it flew across the Atlantic Blythe, have a heart”) so Gilbert had plenty of time to mull over his options and his next move.

Not that he needed it. Gilbert knew his decision less than five minutes after hearing the news. Gold didn’t make a difference to him.

In the meantime, Bash had apparently found something new to amuse him.

“You finish that love letter yet Blythe?” Bash asked every evening as they ate. “Better make haste.”

“It’s not a love letter,” Gilbert replied firmly. He waited until the end of the week to actually write his response. He didn’t want to deal with Bash trying to sneak a look the entire week otherwise.

“You sure you want to stick to this decision?” Bash asked as Gilbert tied the letter to Alethia’s leg. “Not every day that the chance to get rich comes along.”

“I wouldn’t say the author is the most reliable narrator,” Gilbert said, checking the string for a third time to make sure it was secure. “And I left because that place was too much. Gold doesn’t change that.”

“Can’t keep running forever,” Bash told him, then, before Gilbert could think up a retort to that “how long until she gets your love letter?”

“ Not a love letter,” Gilbert insisted. “I don’t know – maybe a few weeks or so? We’re far away from Scotland.”

The letter secured, Alethia hooted softly before flying off. Gilbert watched her until she was no more than a speck in the sky.

“Foolish,” Bash shook his head at him. “If I had a girl waitin’ on me, gold or no, I wouldn’t be stayin’ halfway across the world.”

“It’s not like that!” Gilbert protested. “Anne’s just a classmate!”

“Uh huh,” Bash said, giving him a look of disbelief. “You’re acting like mook. Be a man.”

“I am a man!”

“Only a moke can’t admit to sending love letters!”

“It’s not a love letter!”

                                                         ***

“Anne, you’re supposed to be doing your potions homework,” Diana prodded her friend. They were seated in the comfier set of armchairs in the common room with the intention of doing their school work, but all Anne could do was read her the old alchemy book Nate had given her.

“ Anne ” Diana said a little bit louder when Anne failed to hear her.

“Oh!” Anne started out of her book, blinking back to reality. “Sorry Diana, I’m just trying to make sense of it.”

“You haven’t put that book down in days, ” Diana commented. “I thought you were almost finished with it.”

“I was, but I keep going back to the chapters on gold and alchemic law,” Anne sounded frustrated. “I must have read it a dozen times, but I can’t make sense of it. I thought I understood it but then what Nate and Mr Dunlop discovered should have been impossible. So I must be missing something, but I can’t get it through my head what. ”

“Maybe because Mr Dunlop and Nate just discovered it?” Diana said thoughtfully. “I mean, they’re the first to successfully change something else into gold, aren’t they?”

“Someone is claiming to be able to create gold through alchemy?” A woman’s voice interrupted sharply, and Diana and Anne looked up to see nothing but the fireplace.

“You heard that right?” Diana whispered to Anne, and Anne nodded.

“Mother help them,” the woman’s voice continued. “What passes for wisdom in witches these days. I’m right here. ” Diana and Anne watched as the ghost of a lady shimmered into view in the armchair across from them.

“You’re the Grey Lady,” Diana said with reverence – she had only seen her once, her first year at Hogwarts. She rarely appeared to students, and had never once been known to talk to any of the students.

“Astute, aren’t you,” the Grey Lady sniffed. “Now, what were you just saying about alchemic gold?”

“Haven’t you heard the news?” Anne said, shocked. “It’s all over Hogwarts, how could you have missed it.”

“I have better things to do with my time than to listen to the gossip drag of whatever fancy has caught the students’ attention this time,” the Grey Lady’s tone reminded Diana of some of her mother’s friends, the ones that acted like they were better than everyone else. Diana disliked her on the spot.

“Sorry,” Anne said, looking chastened. “But the alchemists here at Hogwarts-“

“There are alchemists at Hogwarts?” The Grey Lady interrupted. “Well, I never. Such a thing has never been done.”

“Oh,” Anne hesitated, looking uncertain. Diana stepped in to help.

“There’s two of them here now,” Diana explained. “And they found a way to make gold.”

“That’s impossible,” The Grey Lady said. “No one can do it, gold is too pure an element.”

“They found a way around it,” Anne said eagerly. “It has to do with-“

“No,” The Grey Lady said harshly. “Do not misunderstand me. It is not possible. No one could have found a way, even my mother failed-“ the ghost stopped, not finishing her sentence.

“Who was your mother?” Anne asked curiously.

“I do not have the patience to sit and be asked impudent questions!” The Grey Lady said icily, starting to fade away.

“No wait! I’m sorry!” Anne cried hastily. “I didn’t mean to. Please, explain why it’s impossible.”

The Grey Lady stopped fading, looking them both up and down. Diana felt the curious sense that she was being judged, and she sat up taller. This was the elusive Ravenclaw house ghost after all.

“You both were at Sir Nicholas’ deathday party last year,” The Grey Lady said slowly. “I saw you there, though you did not see me.”

“Yes. Sir Nicholas and I are friends,” Anne said. “It was a magnificent party.”

“It was self indulgent,” the Grey Lady sniffed. “But everyone who went spoke highly of you afterwards. Out of respect for them, I shall stay a minute longer.”

“Thank you,” Diana said demurely, though she wasn’t sure she wanted the Grey Lady to stay. She had a heavy air of condescension about her that reminded Diana of the more suffocating parts of home.

“If it’s impossible, then how did Nate and Mr Dunlop create the gold?” Anne asked. “What else could it be?”

“Ravenclaws do not wait for someone to tell the answer, they seek out the truth for themselves,” The Grey Lady told them.

“What, like ask Nate and Mr Dunlop?” Diana frowned. “But Anne’s asked before and she didn’t understand the answer.”

“Do not look for answers among them!” The Grey Lady flared. “Seek elsewhere. I have heard of a similar tale before, in a wizarding town near Little Wabash.”

“I never heard of it,” Anne frowned. “How do you know it?”

“Haven’t you read the news?” The Grey Lady mocked in a cold tone. “It was all over the wizard world, how did you miss it?”

Anne flushed. “I see your point.”

“Where can we find more information about it?” Diana asked, leaning closer.

“I have already handed you too much,” The Grey Lady stated, starting to fade away. “You must find the rest of the answers on your own.”

“No, wait!” Diana said, irritated. The Grey Lady was being deliberately unhelpful, expecting Anne and Diana to stumble around for information she already knew.

"Young witches,” The Grey Lady said gravely, hardly more than a shadow now. “Hogwarts is my only home, and all that is left of my family legacy. Do not let anything happen to it.”

Her words echoed as she finally faded from view, leaving nothing but a chill in the air.

“Anne?” Diana glanced at her best friend, feeling a little overwhelmed by all that had just happened.  “What do we do?”

Anne was watching the spot where the Grey Lady had been, a familiar look of intense determination on her face. Diana knew that look – Anne wanted answers.

“There are old copies of the Daily Prophet in the library,” Anne said. “Early tomorrow, that’s where we start.”

Diana nodded. Irritating as the Grey Lady had been, Diana couldn’t shake the feeling that she had entrusted them with a weighty task.

They couldn’t let her, or Hogwarts, down.

***

“Here it is!” Anne gasped, late the next evening. They had been in the library for every spare moment of the day, crawling through the papers. “ Irish wizarding town faces economic disaster following gold scam,” Anne read the title aloud. “Diana, it says here everyone was left in financial ruin. ”

“Does it give any details about the scam?” Diana asked, reading over her shoulder. “Does it sound like what is happening here?”

“Nothing,” Anne said grimly after she scanned the article. “Not even the names of the man responsible, he was never caught.”

“But there’s a date!” Diana noticed, pointing it out to Anne. “Almost twenty years ago.”

“How does that help?” Anne asked. “Besides telling us that it couldn’t be the same people; Mr  Dunlop and Nate are too young.”

“Because, it means the journalist who wrote the article may still be alive,” Diana said, and Anne looked at her with pure admiration. “Look, his name is Malcolm Frost. We could write him a letter and learn everything!”

“Brilliant Diana!” Anne said, but less than a moment later she deflated. “But- Alethia isn’t back yet. And even if she was, it could take weeks to get a response, if ever. What if the Grey Lady is right, and by then it’s too late?”

Diana’s own hopes fell at Anne’s logic. “There must be some way we could talk to him,” Diana said to herself.

“Maybe the Daily Prophet still has records of what he found there,” Anne said slowly. “If we could get there, we could see for ourselves.”

“The Daily Prophet is in wizarding London,” Diana said helplessly. “How could we get there?”

“If only we could use the floo network at Hogwarts, no one would be any the wiser,” Anne slapped a newspaper in frustration. “But it’s restricted to the staff only!”

An idea dawned on Diana. A terrible risky idea that could solve their problem just as well as get them into a whole heap of trouble.

“My parents floo is set up to access muggle London-”Diana said slowly, looking at Anne.

Anne caught on immediately, because she was brilliant like that. “And tomorrow is a Hogsmeade day, no one would notice if we were gone for a few hours-“

“We would just need to avoid my parents-“

“And then we floo to the Leaky Cauldron-“

"Find the Daily Prophet-“

“And get the truth!” Anne declared triumphantly. “Oh Diana, you’re brilliant!”

***

“Record room?” The little wizard in the front desk of the Daily Prophet snorted at them. “Girls, look around. We’re operating out of a shoe closet since the last office got burned down. We ain’t got a record room.”

Diana’s heart fell at his words. That was it. All this way, and it was a dead end.

“Well, can you at least tell us anything about what happened in this article?” Anne said, unfolding the paper she had filched from the library and handing it over. Diana had to respect her friend’s tenacity- Anne never gave up.

The man let out a low whistle as he read the title. “Ohhh yeah, I think I remember this. What I heard, the town never recovered.”

“What happened?” Anne pressed, but the man shrugged.

“Can’t really remember any details. I was just a copier back then.”

“That isn’t helpful!” Anne snapped. “We need more answers!”

“Well I can’t help you there,” the man said, unperturbed by Anne’s temper. “But Frost probably could. That man remembered every story he wrote.”

“He still works here?” Diana said eagerly, grasping their newest breadcrumb.

“Nah, he quit nearly fifteen years ago, said he couldn’t stand to write about any more terrible humans,” the man replied. “But he’s still around. Always at the Dragon’s Breath pub two blocks over, all hours of the day. You can find him there. But be warned, he probably won’t talk to you. Hates people.”

“Oh, he’ll talk to us,” Anne declared. “We’re not leaving without answers.”

***

Frost indeed did not want to talk to them. But Anne was not one to be denied.

“Sir, our futures, our family and school’s future, could be in jeopardy if you don’t help us,” Anne said angrily. “How could you be so selfish and uncaring as to not help!”

“I’ve seen too much of humanity, kid,” Frost said bitterly. “Everyone is selfish, deep down. You’ve seen the kind of shit I have, you wouldn’t want to help either.”

“I’ve seen that type of humanity too,” Anne replied, her voice level and clipped. “I just don’t use it as an excuse to hide away and cower.”

Frost peered at her with an assessing eye.

“Hmm,” Frost said. “Have a drink.”

“We’re fourteen,” Anne informed him.

“So?” Frost belched loudly. “Never too young.”

Anne slammed her hand on the table, drawing the attention of the two only other patrons there. “Listen to me!” She snarled. “My friend and I came from very far away, at great risks, all to talk to you and get the answers we need. Now, are you going to tell us about the gold scam or not?”

Frost watched them. “You’re feisty,” he said. “Most people aren’t.”

"Alright,” Frost said. “I’ll tell you. There was a town full of people who were good but stupid and when someone came along pretending to be able to turn things into gold, they believed him. He wormed his way in, took all their money to make an alchemy shop, and then as soon as his pockets were lined with their galleons, took off for the hills. End of story.”

“There are men at Hogwarts now, who have discovered away to make gold with alchemy,” Diana told him.

“Impossible,” Frost dismissed. “No one can do it.”

“So we’ve been told,” Anne said. “But I’ve seen their notes, their equations and tests. They all were right. What else could it be?”

“Could you understand them?” Frost raised an eyebrow. “These notes, these records.”

“Well, no, but that’s because I’m not trained-“ Anne started to explain but Frost interrupted her.

“Don’t be stupid!” He snapped. “You’re feisty and determined enough to find the truth, so don’t be acting stupid. You’re doing what everyone does, listening to others and ignore your own eyes because they told you to.”

“Here’s the truth,” Frost snarled. “It is impossible to turn anything into pure gold, and even if it weren’t, it wouldn’t be practical. Gold is too soft, too precise to be of any magical use besides an anchor, and all those spells are too complex for most wizards to cast anyway.”

“But Anne saw the gold herself,” Diana rushed to her defense. “In Nate’s microscope!”

That had been what Anne had said, but that wasn’t true.

“I couldn’t,” Anne admitted. “I kept looking for the flecks of gold, but I couldn’t see them, they were too small for my untrained eye-“

“Too small?” Frost interrupted, suddenly attentive. Anne nodded slowly.

“Gold is big,” Frost said, his tone no longer disinterested or slurred by sharp and intense. “It’s big and shiny and eye-catching. You wouldn’t need a microscope to see gold, true gold, even if you were blind in both eyes.”

Anne felt something cold come over her. A familiar feeling of dread.

“Diana,” Anne said slowly. “Why would Nate never explain to me the formula they discovered, or answer my questions about Alchemy?”

“Because, there is no formula,” Mr Frost answered, swilling his drink.

“Why was the section on gold the most worn down section of the alchemy book he gave me.”

“Because they researched it extensively, to fabricate a story about an alchemic discovery.”

“And why, after all that fuss of it being top secret research, did he tell Professor Parkinson about it?”

Frost frowned. “Now that, I don’t really know.”

Anne gave him a hard look. “Because Professor Parkinson is the biggest gossip on  staff. God, how did I not put any of this together before?”

“Let me ask you something,” Frost pointed at her. “Who have you been listening to lately? Everyone around here? Or that person in there,” He jabbed his finger toward Anne’s brain.

“I’m a child , Mr Frost,” Anne reminded him, but Mr Frost dismissed it.

“Pah! Children are pure instinct, unlike adults. They see the simplest flaws that everyone else overlooks. Especially in the wizarding world; no one ever teaches adults logic in this world,” Frost grumbled, and Anne felt she understood Frost a little better now. “You should’ve trusted yourself,” Frost said. “Seems like you’ve got it all figured out.” 

It had been there, right in front of her all along. Every time Anne asked a questions that Nate had waved away or Mr Dunlop had distracted her with stories and baking sessions, the answer had been standing in the bare light. And instead of noticing it Anne had been to busy following Nate around like a lost stray. She felt sick to her stomach.

They had been playing them all like puppets on a string, and Anne had liked them. She had ignored her instincts because Dunlop snuck her into the kitchens and Nate gave her special attention. Merlin, she had been so stupid.

“We have to get back,” Anne told Diana, who looked as wild eyed and full of dread as Anne felt. “We have to warn everyone, we need to go!”

“Wait,” Frost said as they started to leave. He pulled another journal out of his coat pocket. Anne noticed for the first time his clothes were all muggle style. “This one is mostly empty,” he said, sliding it across to her. “Take notes as you learn about the world around you. Keep honing those instincts.”

“Thank you,” Anne said sincerely. “For everything.”

                                                                 ***

Miraculously, no one was home when Diana and Anne practically fell out of the floo, coughing up a lung. Unfortunately, this was the one time Anne would have liked to be caught, because they needed to find an adult, and quickly.

No one was in Diana’s house. Nor in her neighbors half a mile up the road, or the next one.

“This is taking too long,” Anne said, stopping in the middle of the forest. “We need to get someone now. You go to the castle, I’ll check in Green Gables for Marilla, and then Hosgmeade.”

“Right,” Diana nodded. “And Anne? Be careful.”

Anne swallowed. “You too.”

Ten minutes later, Anne was tearing up the path to Green Gables. There was a light visible in the kitchen, and Anne felt like her chest might burst with relief.

“Marilla!” Anne yelled with desperation as she slammed the front door open. “Marilla, please, we have to stop them we’re all in dang-“

“Anne?” Marilla called from the kitchen. “Anne for goodness sake’s what has gotten into you? Are you alright? Jerry stopped by earlier, said he and Cole hadn’t seen you or Diana all day.”

Anne didn’t respond, instead she just flung herself at Marilla. She felt like she may throw up if she tried to speak.  

“Anne?” Marilla repeated, sounding geniunely worried. Anne had to warn her.

“It’s the boarders,” Anne said, the words spilling over themselves. “Oh Marilla, they aren’t alchemists, they aren’t at all, they’re, they’re grifters, Diana and I, we figured it out, we heard about it happening to a different town and we asked the journalist and I’m sorry we snuck away but we had to, we’re all in terrible danger, Marilla, please you have to believe me.”

“I believe you, Anne,” Marilla said, her eyes hardening at Anne’s tale.

“We believe you too Anne,” a honeyed voice came from the kitchen doorway. Marilla let out a gasp, clutching Anne to her and Anne felt her blood run cold.

“No, no,” Anne felt like a trapped mouse at the sight of Nate and Dunlop in the doorway, wands already out.

"Seems like someone’s figured it all out, Jonesey,” Nate said, and his tone was all harshness, no more honey coated words. “Told you she would be trouble.”

“And we were so close,” Dunlop scowled. “What do you want to do about it?”

“We have some money from a few of those idiots already,” Nate shrugged. “Looks like we may have to skip out a little early. Need to take care of these two first though.”

Marilla stepped in front of Anne, pushing her further behind. “Don’t you dare touch her-“ Marilla said defiantly, but Dunlop – no, Nate had called him Jonesy- flicked his wand at her and Marilla crumpled.

“Marilla!” Anne screamed, trying to catch her but Nate grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her away. “Go get the money,” she heard him tell Jonesy, slapping his hand over Anne’s mouth so she wouldn’t scream again. “I’ll take care of this brat.”

Anne heard footsteps rushing away, and she lashed out with her feet and elbows, trying to push Nate off.

“Hold still you little maggot,” Nate seethed as Anne twisted in his grip. “Make another sound and the lovely Ms. Cuthbert is in for a rather bad day, understand?”

Anne went slack immediately, terror for Marilla overriding her fight instincts.

  “Good,” Nate said, and Anne found herself shoved in a chair. Ropes sprang from Nate’s wand and bound her tightly as Nate tied a gag around her mouth.

“Got it all,” Dunlop-Jonesy said, reappearing. His eyes flickered to where Anne sat tied up, and something like sadness flickered across his face. Anne glared at him.

“Less than half of what we were hoping for,” Nate sighed, glancing at the bags. “We were going to be kings.”

He crouched down in front of Anne’s chair, looking her in the eye.

“I did say you were far too smart to let you go poking around all the time,” Nate clicked his tongue. “You were so easy to trick though- a few compliments here and there and you were never the wiser.” Nate pinched her cheek, as if she were just a child asking for more sweets. Anne felt like she was going to throw up. “You couldn’t have held out one more week, could you?” Nate sighed, and something dark was taking root in his eye. “Far too clever to be allowed to walk around. What do you think Jonesey, should we take her along for insurance?” Nate asked, and Anne felt paralyzed with fear.

“Quit playing around, we need to get out of here,” Dunlop said impatiently. “Cuthbert wandered off to the forest, it’ll be ages before they’re discovered. Let’s go. We need to get to the edge of town to apparate.”

“Fine, fine,” Nate said. “Lead the way Jonesey,”

They left, leaving the door to slam in the wind.

Anne stared at Marilla, anxiety thrumming in her bones. But the older woman wasn’t stirring.

Come on Anne. Think. You need to do this, it’s up to you.

There was a large bell outside the front door that Marilla used whenever she needed to call Matthew away from the forest. All it needed was a little push.

Anne closed her eyes and focused, searching out the familiar magic that flowed through her, and trying to guide it without a wand.

Deep breaths Anne. All the magic is already inside you. You just need to be the vessel.

It was an exhaustive effort, and Anne was nearly unconscious by the end of it.

The bell began to toll.

***

Jerry hummed as he headed along the path from Hogsmeade to Green Gables. He was hoping to persuade Marilla to give him some plum tarts to take back with him to the castle.

The sound of two men running behind him caused him to turn around. There, out of breath and clutching their bags, were the two alchemist boarders from Green Gables. But something was off – Dunlop was scowling, no longer friendly or open. Instead he had the bearing of someone who could be ugly in a fight. And Nate’s groomed look was in disarray, leaving visible the mean, sharp way he looked at everyone.

Something tugged at Jerry’s brain, something that he needed to remember.

“Well if it isn’t the little muggleborn,” Nate sneered, and it clicked.

“You’re – you’re those men,” Jerry said, stumbling backwards. “The ones who attacked me last spring!”

Nate let out a hollow laugh. “These kids, man,” he said to Dunlop, who was already drawing his wand out. “Always getting in the way. First the redheaded brat-“

Jerry felt like he had been dunked in ice water.

“Where’s Anne?” Jerry demanded, dozens of terrible images flying through his head. “What did you do!”

“Move, frog,” Nate jeered, and Jerry tackled him, yelling.

He hardly got one punch in before Dunlop hauled him off. There was a flash of light and then everything went dark.

When he woke, it was to Matthew’s steady hand shaking him.

“It’s alright son, it’s alright,” Matthew murmured.

“It was them, Mr Cuthbert, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize,”

“It’s okay son,” Matthew said. “Not your fault.”

***

The news had spread like wildfire by breakfast the next day. The real story, that alchemists were really conmen, that Anne and Diana had figured it out and tried to stop them, and that they had gotten away after attacking Anne and Madam Cuthbert, hardly made it to everyone before all the embellishments began to be added. One girl, a fifth year, insisted to all who would listen that Anne had gotten kidnapped by the conmen as they escaped on hippogriffs, and they had really been spies sent by the Prussians.

“Might be a bit more believable if she didn’t try saying it to my face,” Anne grumbled as she walked back from herbology with Jerry.

"Moody kept asking me if it were true that you and Diana apparated from Hogwarts to Ireland to find out the truth,” Jerry said. “I had to remind him that none of us know how to apparate,” he pulled a face, then winced, rubbing at his jaw.

“Ouch,” Jerry muttered. Anne stopped walking, holding Jerry’s arm so that he stopped too.

“Matthew told me you tried to stop them,” Anne said quietly. “That’s how you got hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jerry said, staring at the floor. “I didn’t do anything helpful, they got away. All this time, I couldn’t remember who they were. And then I did.”

“It was very brave of you,” Anne told him, and Jerry shrugged, uncomfortable with the whole topic. "I-I don't think I want to be an alchemist any more," Anne admitted, her eyes feeling suspiciously wet. "I don't think I could ever look at the book again the same way." Her eyes felt strangely wet, and Anne blinked very hard. She was not going to cry. Not now.

 "You don't have to be," Jerry said, finally looking up from the floor. "Anything we want to be, right?" He gave her a small smile. "Maybe you and Diana can open a detective agency."  Anne chuckled lightly before she hugged Jerry tightly, kissing his cheek chastely. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered before letting go.

 Jerry blinked, face slightly red. They were rarely open with their fondness.

“You just going around kissing all the boys on the cheek now?” Jerry teased, and Anne laughed, shoving him.

They would be alright.

***

For the next few weeks, the mood in Hogwarts was solemn as the initial excitement over the boarder’s flight passed and it dawned on everyone just how close to danger they had all been. A few family’s had already sent their investments in, and their children were now faced with the prospect of financial instability.

It was in this muted atmosphere that Anne finally received a response from Gilbert Blythe, nearly two months after she had sent it.

“So? What’s it say?” Diana pressed as they walked to potions together. “Is he coming back?”

“Not returning to England indefinitely,” Anne responded, folding the letter back up and slipping it in her bag.

“Indefinitely?” Diana gasped. “But – what about his OWLs? His NEWTs?”

“Guess he’ll figure them out,” Anne shrugged. Who cared what Gilbert Blythe did? She had done her neighborly duty and told him, and now, seeing how the gold debacle turned out, it had all played out for the best.

She hadn’t felt the slightest bit let down when she saw his response, she hadn’t.

“Do you think we should give the letter to Ruby?” Diana asked, glancing over at where the strawberry blonde sat giggling with Tilly and Jane.

“What?” Anne clutched her bag to her, alarmed. “Why?”

“To give her something to hold onto,” Diana responded, looking puzzled at Anne’s reaction. “Unless – you don’t want to .”

Anne did not like the look of glee Diana was currently sporting.

“Ruby will just spend the next few weeks crying, and we all have exams,” Anne said shortly. “The timing would be dreadful.”

“Sure,” Diana gave her a knowing smile and Anne huffed. Why was her friend being insufferable this morning?

“Are you going to write him back?” Diana asked later, as they poured over their cauldrons.

“What?” Anne coughed, blowing the fumes out of her face. “Who?”

“Gilbert,” Diana hissed, aware of how close Musa and Cetus’ cauldron was to them. “I bet he’d like to keep in touch with you.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Anne said, which was true. She and Gilbert had no reason to keep up their correspondence, and it wasn’t like they were on friendly terms. “Besides, the only reason I would write back would be to inform him that it was Toadstoole who found the first few uses of dragons blood, not Septimus Quince.”

“Maybe he messed it up on purpose,” Diana whispered, as if they were conspiring. “Maybe he wants to be pen pals!”

“I think you took too many bludgers to the head,” Anne informed her gravely. “Or maybe it’s the potion fumes.”

***

The last quidditch cup of the year was Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff, and Jerry and Diana had been teasing each other all week with verbal one ups.

Now, all gathered on the quidditch field, Diana flashed him a sporting grin, and Jerry felt his stomach flip. He waved.

“Merlin,” his teammate groaned beside him. “Baynard, she’s cute but I swear if you let her get in your head and play poorly I will feed you to the hippogriffs.”

“Its not like that!” Jerry squawked, but his teammate ignored him, already taking off into the air.

Jerry followed suit, and was relieved to learn that as fun as it was to watch Diana fly, it was hard to allow himself to be distracted when there was a game going on.

It helps that as seeker and chaser, they’re focused on very different parts of the game.

Thirty minutes have passed before Jerry catches something glittery and gold right in front of him. He blinks, refocusing his vision, and can make out the snitch vibrating rapidly.

“Huh,” Jerry said, and then rolled out of the way, yelping, as a blue streak shot past him.

“Watch it!” Jerry yelled, and Diana just laughed in response.

  She missed the snitch then, but she caught it 45 minutes later, second before Jerry and Elias could score and bring their lead just up enough to win the cup.

Ah well, Jerry decided, there was always next year. And the look of pure joy on Diana’s face as her teammates lifted her into the air was worth it. 

***

May came to Hogwarts, as it always did, bringing with it tempting sunshine, bouquets of breathtaking flowers, and the looming threat of end of year examinations. Anne’s studying reached unprecedented new heights, even for her. She spent hours in the library, bent over books in a fervor as distress over the daunting arithmacy final mounted. Nothing, not even the glorious warm weather or the prettiest pleading of her closest bosom friends could drag her away from her books, so determined was Anne to master arithmancy. 

It was at Marilla’s insistence that Jerry dragged Anne to tea one Friday, all three worried that Anne would work herself sick at her pace. 

“That girl needs some sunshine and some proper tea, and time spent without sticking her nose in any of her dusty old books,” Marilla tutted. “And don’t let her talk you out of it, Jerry, you march her straight here.” 

Anne had protested of course, but strong as she was, she was no match for 14 year old Jerry, who spent as many hours on the quidditch field that month that Anne had spent reading. 

“You’re getting strong now, then, aren’t ya?” Matthew had ruffled Jerry’s hair after Anne finished her rant on the ‘primevalness of relying on brute strength.’ “Reckon all that quidditch is doin’ you some good.” 

“I’m getting taller too!” Jerry announced, delighted. “I’m already a whole head taller than Anne!”

“Ugghhh,” The redheaded girl groaned at the remark, rolling her eyes at Jerry. “Don’t remind me. It feels like everyone is growing and I’m still stuck at this ridiculous height.” 

“No need for dramatics Anne,” Marilla admonished. “You’ll grow when you’re good and ready, simple as that.” 

“But I’m good and ready now, ” Anne complained. “I shall simply have to resign myself to the fact that I will never grow any taller, I am destined to be miniscule and diminutive for the rest of eternity.”

“Oh fiddlesticks,” Marilla chided good-naturedly. “You’ll grow. Why, I didn’t grow until I was in my fifth year, same as Matthew. We’re a family of late bloomers is all.”

“Why does that matter? I’m adopted.” Anne said, puzzled.

“What?!” Matthew slapped table, causing all three of them to jump in surprise. “Who told you?" He cried, winking as Anne and Jerry dissolved into giggles. 

“Now really, Matthew,” Marilla scolded, but there was as smile hiding in the corner of her mouth. Matthew grinned at Anne, reaching out and tweaking her braid gently as Jerry slipped an extra helping of carrots onto her plate. 

“I hear they help you grow," he said innocently, grinning wickedly as Anne shrieked and pelted him with bread. 

“I yield, I yield!” 

***

It had been so stupid. Probably the stupidest thing Cole had ever done – reckless, and foolish and full of terrible consequences.

It had probably been the most Gryffindor like he had ever been, in retrospect.

He hadn’t thought. He had just responded, in anger.

Someone had found Cole and the girls’ tiny sanctuary, the well constructed lean too where the girls kept their stories and Cole did his clay sculptures. He had been getting good, really good.

Now, every one of them lay in pieces shattered on the ground.

Then Cole had looked up, had seen the word mudbloods and freaks smeared on the broken door of their beloved haven, and he snapped.

He hardly remembered sprinting into the castle, or finding Billy in the middle of the courtyard and full out decking him, no wands, as the girls around them screamed. Then Billy through a curse at him, and Cole dodged, drawing out his own wand and dueling in a blind rage.

He did remember Billy’s screams as he went down, clutching his ear as it began to smoke.

That, he remembered all too well.

Now he stood on the small inlet near the lake, a little past the edge of the forest, half collapsed on a tree for support.

Expulsion. They were going to expel him for sure, and then Cole would have no where to go but home, and he would be stuck there for the rest of his life, imprisoned in the walls that threatened to suffocate him for daring to be different.

“Cole!”

Anne had found him. Of course she had.

“Cole, Cole,” Anne murmured, as she came to a halt in front of him. “Its ok, Cole, Billy’s already in the hospital wing and they’ll fix him.”

“I don’t belong here,” Cole said. He was shaking and his breath was coming out in rackety half sobs. “I don’t fit in Anne, here or anywhere else. Where do you go when the world doesn’t have a place for you?”

“ Cole ,” Anne said, and she threw her arms around him, taking his storm of emotions onto her own shoulders.

“It isn’t what the world holds for you,” Anne told him fiercely. “It’s what you bring to it. And Cole, you bring it so much . All the pain and suffering and hardship you face, you’re going to turn it into light and beauty. Because that’s what you do, Cole. It’s who you are. You make the world more beautiful just by being in it.”

“They’re going to expel me.” Cole couldn’t face that fear, that harsh reality that was his home.

“They won’t,” Anne told him, eyes alight with a fiery defiance. “They won’t Cole, Billy is already being tended to, and he has too many marks on his record already. They won’t expel you. Marilla and I won’t let them. It’s going to get better, Cole, I promise. It will all work out.”

“It will never get better,” Cole said dully. “Not for me.”

“Cole, what do you mean?” Anne stepped back, searching his face. Cole didn’t say anything. “Cole you’re scaring me.”

“I’m not like you, or Diana or the rest,” Cole said, and the words felt like rocks in his throat. “I’m – I’m like Ms. Barry.”

Anne’s eyes widened in understanding. She gripped Cole’s hands tight in her own.

“You’re not alone,” Anne promised him. “Cole, I swear you will never be alone, not as long as I am in the world. And this world does have great things in store for you, Cole McKenzie. Your life is going to be long and wonderful and full of the type of love you can only dream of right now.”

“You make it sound possible,” Cole chuckled dryly, wiping his eyes on his sleeve without letting go of Anne’s hand.

“I’ll make it possible,” Anne vowed. “If I have to tear down every mountain that stands in our way, I will Cole.”

Something inside him lightened. He thanked every deity he had ever heard of for Anne Shirley Cuthbert.

“I suppose, no matter what, I can always marry you,” Cole joked weakly, and Anne squeezed is hands again.

“It would be my honor,” she smiled, and Cole chuckled.

 Anne Shirley Cuthbert was impossible, and Cole couldn’t imagine his life without her.

***

Gilbert and Bash were back in the Caribbean, walking through a muggle port, when they heard the screaming.

"This way,” Bash hollered, taking off and Gilbert was right on his heels.

“What’s going on?” Gilbert asked, when he arrived to see a pregnant woman half collapsed in the street, Bash banging on the door of a house.

“She’s in labor and the house mother kicked her out!” Bash raged, screaming through the door. “Hey! You can’t do this!”

“She’s bleeding too much,” Gilbert said, looking at the red soaked cloth the woman was clutching between her legs. “Bash, we need a healer!”

  “Ain’t no doctors or healers coming anywhere near this part of town,” Bash said.

“She needs someplace safe and private, or she’s going to die. Hey!” Gilbert grabbed Bash’s arm before he could bang on the door again, forcing him to look at Gilbert. “We can yell about this later but right now we need to help her or she’ll die!”

“And what are you going to do about it Blythe? You ain’t a doctor!”

“We have to do something!” Gilbert retorted. Bash stared, but he lifted the woman and carried her down a side street, setting her down in a small shed as Gilbert laid out pilfered towels. The woman’s head lolled, indicating she was barely conscious. They didn’t have much time.

“I’m going to need a bowl, preferably stone, salamander blood and nettle stings, ashwinder skin, and at least three strips of yarrow,” Gilbert listed off to Bash as he started to strike a fire. “Everything else I think we have. Can you get that at the market?”

“You crazy Blythe? There ain’t no way you’re healing this woman!” Bash said.

“Look, I can’t deliver a baby, you’ll have to coach her through that, but if she doesn’t stop bleeding that won’t matter either way!” Gilbert snapped. “She needs a blood replenishing potion, needs one fast, and I know how to make one but not without those supplies! Now, do you know where you can get some or not?”

Bash took one look at the determination on Gilbert’s face, and must have seen he couldn’t change Gilbert’s mind. He turned to the woman.

“Look,” he said, waiting for the woman’s eyes to flutter open. “I know this here white boy is probably frightening you, and I can’t blame you. He’s young, and he don’t know much about anything, especially this world, but he’s good and smart and he’s my brother. I trust him, alright? You’ll be safe with him.”

The woman barely nodded before her eyes squeezed shut with another moan of pain.

“Alright, I won’t be long,” Bash promised. “Keep your head out alright? Don’t be getting caught.” 

“Same with you,” Gilbert said. “ Hurry. ”

He got the fire going while Bash was gone, and dumped the contents of their bags all over the floor, snatching up the few and precious potion ingredients they had gathered over the last nine months. He was crushing beetle eyes when Bash returned, jacket bulky with items.

“Good,” Gilbert let out a sigh of relief when he saw Bash had managed to get everything on the list. “Now, keep her breathing and drinking water, I’ll need some time to get this perfect.”

A blood replenishing potion only took about a quarter of an hour to make if you were good at it. It was the longest fifteen minutes of his life, the woman’s half-conscious moans pulling at his already frayed nerves. There was too much on the line if Gilbert messed this up. He muttered the potion recipe over and over, praying to Merlin and God and the angels and his father that he wasn’t forgetting everything.

Finally, the potion was the right shade of pale green, the consistency just as Gilbert remembered it. Bash helped him spoon it into the woman’s mouth, neither of them daring to speak.

A minute passed. Two. Three.

Then the woman began to breath more easily, her moans of pain quieting and her shaking slowing.

Gilbert let out a sigh of relief as Bash whooped.

“You did it Blythe!” Bash grinned. “You really did!”

“Yeah,” Gilbert smiled shakily. “Now it’s your turn, brother. There’s still a baby in there.”

Bash paled.

“That was incredible,” Gilbert said nearly an hour later, as the new mother and child rested in the corner. “I’ve never seen something more beautiful.”

“You weren’t bad yourself Blythe, whipping up that potion,” Bash nudged him. “I didn’t know you could do something like that.”

“I didn’t either,” Gilbert admitted. “At least – I never really thought about it.”

They were quiet a few moments more, each reflecting on the miracle of life they’d just witnessed, and the role they played.

“Hey Bash,” Gilbert said quietly, and his friend glanced over. “I think I know what I want to do with my life now.”

Bash’s smile was full of a sad understanding. “Time to go home?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Gilbert responded, an idea forming. “You ready?”

Bash stared, not comprehending.

“You’re coming with me, aren’t you?” Gilbert grinned.

***

As an end of the year treat, (and a small reward to Jerry and Anne for their exam placements - Anne got top marks of the year once again, even in arithmancy, and was top student for charms; to everyone’s surprise, Jerry was top student for Care of Magical Creatures) Marilla and Matthew took Anne, Diana, Cole, Jerry and Ruby to the beach for a day.

“It’s marvelous!” Anne had cried upon seeing it, and she and Jerry rushed right in, shrieking at the cold.

Cole and Diana were eventually persuaded to join, and they managed to convince Ruby as well. Marilla let them splash around for 45 minutes before calling them all back to shore under the guise of dinner time. It wouldn’t do for any of them to catch a cold in summer after all.

“So this is the Atlantic,” Anne sighed dreamily, looking out at the waves.

“So it is,” Marilla said, wary for no other reason than she felt she should be.

“And America is on the other side?”

“Unless it’s moved in the last day, I suspect so.”

“How long do you think it would take to sw-“

“Do not try to swim to America, Anne,” Marilla said tiredly.

***

Bash thought he must be dreaming as the white haired old wizard held out a welcoming hand to him. But there his signature was, glistening in black ink on the contract, and Gilbert was grinning in the corner.

“Welcome aboard Professor LaCroix,” Professor Twycross said kindly. “We’re excited to have you here. I think you’ll find teaching muggle studies particularly rewarding here at Hogwarts.” 

Chapter Text

“And so yet another glorious summer draws to a close, it’s marvelous sunset casting its final rays as yet another year of magnificent wonder and adventure opens it’s arms wide to us,” Anne gushed, flinging her arms wide and spinning around the forest. “Oh Diana, doesn’t it just fill you with such a delicious sense of thrilling excitement?”

“You have such a way with words Anne,” Diana said admiringly, smiling fondly at her friend. “There is no match for you when it comes to describing things in the most elegant manner.”

“Why thank you Diana,” Anne beamed. “Though I disagree most avidly, as there are so many muggle authors I have encountered that do the written word far better justice than I. Of all the wonderful books I have read since attending Hogwarts, not one of them holds a candle to Lady of Shallot or Jane Eyre. After much thought about it, I suspect that muggles write better tales because they need to make so much more of the world, don’t you agree? When you have no idea how many rules magic entails, its much easier to imagine a story with magical hijinks, and without the use of spells the stakes are so much higher.”

“That could be possible,” Diana said thoughtfully. “The wizarding community has such few authors, and most of them write our textbooks. But you’re a witch, and your stories are always so good, Anne. I wish I could write like you,” Diana sighed. “Your stories always end in such a dramatic and satisfying way! I never know what to do with my characters.”

“Well, with school starting up again now we can start up the story club again!” Anne said cheerfully. “I have missed it dreadfully this summer, with Ruby so far away. Maybe we can persuade Cole to illustrate one of our stories! Wouldn’t that just be the most exquisite thing!”  

  “As long as Ruby finds a new topic for her stories,” Diana sighed. “I grew so tired about hearing about Herbert, and Albert, and Edbert-“

“I don’t think that last one was actually a name,” Anne laughed.

“It will be, if we don’t put a stop to it,” Diana said seriously. “I mean, surely she must realize we know who she’s actually talking about?”

“It’s Ruby,” Anne shrugged. “Subtlety isn’t exactly her greatest strength, unlike a certain other someone.” Anne gave Diana a sly grin.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Diana said primly.

“Hmm, it must be my other bosom friend who secretly joined the quidditch team against her parents’ wishes,” Anne nodded sagely. “Certainly not Diana Barry.”

“The idea is utterly preposterous,” Diana agreed, in a high and might voice not unlike how Eliza Barry spoke. The girls looked at each other before breaking out into giggles.

“Oh Diana,” Anne linked their arms together as they finally went through the gate marking the start of Hogwarts grounds. “Story club, quidditch, new spells – what excitement lies in wait for us!”

“I just hope it won’t be as exciting as last year,” Diana said quietly. “My parents were arguing about the gold scandal all summer. My mother hardly even scolded me for going on our mission, she was so stressed about father’s investment in it. They got in a terrible row this past weekend – that’s why I couldn’t go with you and Jerry to Diagon Alley for school supplies.”

“It will all work out,” Anne assured her. “Your father has several investments, doesn’t he?  Something new will come along.”

“I hope so,” Diana bit her lip, her brow furrowed.

“Come on,” Anne tugged at Diana’s hand. “We’re almost at the castle and the train will arrive any minute! Let’s see if we can find Ruby and the others before they see us!”

  “Cole is nearly a head taller than us and you have bright red hair Anne,” Diana laughed. “They are definitely going to see us first.”

***

“Did you hear? There’s a new professor starting this year!” Ruby told Diana and Anne after they had finished exchanging squeals of delight and hugs.

“At Hogwarts?” Anne asked, wide-eyed with curiosity.

“Where else?” Ruby replied, blonde curls bouncing. She was already in her red Gryffindor robes, but her trademark pink ribbons were entwined carefully in her hair, not unlike Diana’s blue bow. “Oh, I hope it’s a new charms teacher!”

“I like professor Irving,” Anne protested. Charms was one of her best subjects. “If there’s any fairness in the world, it will be Professor Phillips.”

" Hear hear,” Cole muttered. “Ruby, come on, the feast is starting, and Professor Allen will have our heads if we’re sitting with the Ravenclaws during it.”

“Catch up at breakfast tomorrow?” Anne asked, and Ruby and Cole agreed. “Bring Tilly too, I haven’t spoken to her since June.”

Diana and Anne found their seats with the usual mixture of fourth and fifth year Ravenclaws. The rest were already seated, Geraint’s prefect’s badge proudly on display.

“Here’s to a more successful sorting than last year,” Charlie was saying grimly as Anne and Diana squeezed in next to Jane.

“Two last year,” Musa shook his head. “ Two.”

  “Did you hear about the new teacher?” Anne asked, leaning forward. “Any idea what subject it is?”

“Well, it has to be whoever isn’t at the staff table,” Diana said reasonably. “Charlie, you’re tall, who’s missing?”

“All the usual’s seem to be there,“ Charlie craned his neck, eyes roaming across the table. “Allen…Archimenes, Catchpole, Madam Cuthbert-”

“Obviously it isn’t Madam Cuthbert Charlie, Anne would know about that,” Jane rolled her eyes. Charlie flushed as the rest of them laughed.

 “Do you reckon they sit in alphabetical order on purpose?” Cetus wondered aloud. “Oops, I see Phillips, sorry Anne,” he winced sympathetically. Professor Phillips’ hatred of Anne was well known in their year.

“Here’s to another year of suffering,” Anne sighed dramatically. “Jane, do you suppose Prissy can tell me how she gained his respect?”

“If she has time,” Jane snorted. “She made head girl, and ever since the letter arrived she’s been oh so busy with head matters. Spent all summer practically locked in her room, I had only Billy for company.”

“My deepest sympathies,” Anne shuddered.

“Wait – Diana, do you see Professor O’Connelly?” Musa frowned, surveying the table.

“The muggle studies professor?” Geraint said with ill disguised contempt in his voice.

“Got a problem with muggle studies?” Diana glared fiercely at him, as Anne crossed her arms. Geraint’s lips tightened, but he didn’t say anything more.

" O’Connelly definitely isn’t there,” Musa decided. “Guess it’s a new muggle studies professor for us Diana.”

“Fine by me,” Diana shrugged. “O’Connelly gave way too much homework, and his accent was impossible to understand.”

“I liked his accent,” Musa gave her a wounded look. “He always sounded like he was about to tell us a joke.”

  “Shh, the first years are coming in!” a sixth year Ravenclaw whispered, and they all fell silent for a time, only breaking into applause when a first year joined the Ravenclaw table.

As the queue of first years dwindled down, Anne felt the strange sensation as if someone were watching her. A burning, itching feeling on the side of her head. Anne turned her head slightly, wondering if Jane, who was across from her, was trying to get her attention, but all that met her was Jane’s curled ringlets, the girl in question steadily watching the proceedings up front.

Neck still prickling, Anne looked past Jane, toward the Slytherin table.

Two dark brown eyes were staring at her, attached to a very, very familiar face.

Gilbert Blythe was back at Hogwarts.

Gilbert seemed to notice he had been caught, because he blinked rapidly before offering up a smile and small wave.

Gilbert Blythe was back. Anne’s brain seemed stuck on this development. He said in his letter last spring that he was never coming back, and yet here he sits, without a word of warning, right back at Hogwarts, smug as can be.

There were too many confusing emotions swirling around Anne’s head for her to sort out. She seized on the one that made the most sense, outrage that he lied in his letter and with a frosty aura that could rival Marilla’s she pointedly turned her head away. The itching sensation stopped a moment later, and Anne took a deep breath, calming herself as she struggled to listen to Twycross’ welcoming speech.

“And, as some of you may have noticed Professor O’Connelly is no longer with us, having finally decided to retire to his beloved Irish coast,” Professor Tywcross announced, and more than a few whispered cheers were heard from across the room. Muggle studies wasn’t a popular subject to begin with, and Diana wasn’t alone in her dislike of O’Connelly. Musa was the only student who looked remotely sad about the change of staff.

Even Twycross, Anne noted, didn’t look particularly saddened by his colleague’s absence. She made a note to point that out to Diana later.

“In his place, I am pleased to welcome our newest member of staff, who’s years of experience with muggles from around the world makes him a fountain of knowledge for his prospective students. He’s come a long way to join us, so please give a warm Hogwarts welcome to our new Muggle Studies Professor, all the way from Trinidad, Professor Lacroix!”

Polite claps started out as Professor Twycross swept his arm toward the end of the staff table, where Anne could suddenly see a man rising out of his seat. Most of the other staff were seated far away, and his placement just outside the shadows meant he had been missed by all the students until now.

As the man stepped into view, the clapping broke off abruptly as several students let out startled gasps and whispers rose to an alarming volume.

Professor Lacroix was black.

Twycross was frowning at the students, but the rest of the staff did nothing about the deafening silence. Professor Lacroix nodded politely, his expression blank, but the fall of his shoulders didn’t go unnoticed.

Anne’s heart went out to him.

In a burst of passionate empathy, Anne started clapping again, hard as she could. The sound echoed loudly off of the walls, causing several to turn and stare at her in shock or disapproval. Anne raised her chin and stood up to be seen better, clapping all the more.

Diana, lovely, faithful Diana, joined in, even letting out a piercing whistle accompanied by an angelic smile as she stood beside Anne. Jane and Musa joined in, and Musa elbowed Charlie and Cetus until they started clapping as well. Up ahead, Prissy caught Anne’s eye and nodded with approval.  

A smattering of applause began from other tables – Cole and Ruby were applauding enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, as Tilly looked on nervously and Josie rolled her eyes, and Jerry was leading the Hufflepuff quidditch team in loud support.

It was not enough- hardly a tenth of the student body joined in – but Anne could have sworn she saw Professor Twycross wink at her as he clapped as well, and Professor Lacroix smiled before sitting down.

“Looks like this year will be rather interesting after all,” Diana whispered as they sat back down, food appearing in front of them.

The burning, itching sensation was back again, but Anne was determined to ignore it.

“Yes, it does appear so, Diana,” Anne said, stabbing at a mutton chop. “It’ll be something alright.”

***

“Congrats, Professor Lacroix,” Gilbert grinned at Bash as the rest of the student body exited the Great Hall en masse after dessert. “I’m looking forward to your lessons,” Gilbert said earnestly, and loudly enough to draw the attention of several other professors.

Bash shook his head. It was obvious what Gilbert was doing – subtlety was not the lad’s strong suit.  

“You know Blythe, when you talked about your fancy school last year, you could have mentioned that no one knows how to cook food properly,” Bash said, wrinkling his nose at the reminder of what dinner had been. Salt. A full on feast, food without end, and the only seasoning had been salt. Bash had wanted to cry.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, and Bash grinned, deciding to play his trump card then.

“So that was quite a welcome,” Bash started out, his tone light. Gilbert’s face changed instantly, concern filling his eyes.

“Bash , they’ll-“ Gilbert began but Bash cut him off. He wasn’t dwelling on the less than warm response he had received, he had expected that. No, he had a very different reason for bringing up this subject.

“That girl who stood up and clapped seemed spirited,” Bash continued gleefully, watching Gilbert’s face drain slightly.

“Yes…“ Gilbert said slowly, looking at Bash suspiciously.

“I’ve never seen such bright red hair,” Bash went on, now openly smirking. “In fact, I don’t think anyone else in the room even has hair that color, wouldn’t you say Blythe? Bright red hair, looked about thirteen...“

“Fourteen,” Gilbert corrected automatically, and winced.

“Fourteen,” Bash repeated smugly. “And that would be the Ravenclaw table she was at, wouldn’t it Blythe? The fiery redhead?”

“Nope,” Gilbert shook his head and spun on his heel. “I am not dealing your delusions tonight. I have classes in the morning.”

“Sweet dreams Blythe!” Bash snickered as Gilbert sped away, his ears almost as red as a certain Ravenclaw’s hair.

“I hope you get stuck in the trick step,” Gilbert grumbled just loud enough for Bash to hear.

Bash just laughed harder.

***

“The first day of classes Anne, I do believe this is a record,” Marilla sighed as Anne stood in front of her. The girl was trying to cover her head with her hands, but it was an exercise in futility.

“I thought I bore the absolute worst of my hair situations last year Marilla, but this is a fate far more tragic and awful than green hair,” Anne bemoaned as Diana and Ruby loyally rubbed her back in comfort.

“I do declare Anne, you do have a knack for getting in the most unusual of predicaments,” Marilla shook her head. “I presume you didn’t intend for the spell to go this way?”

“Of course not!” Anne cried indignantly. “Professor Irving was demonstrating severing charms, and I was trying to sever the loose thread off of my hair ribbons but I must have mispronounced the spell and the next thing I knew the ground was covered in red tresses!”

Marilla noted privately that Anne’s misadventure with her green hair did seem to do wonders for her appreciation of her natural color. Never before had she heard her romantically inclined child refer to her own hair as “red tresses” before today.

“Well, its nothing that time and a few regrowth potions won’t handle,” Marilla said sensibly. “Diana, Ruby, how did your charms go?”

“Oh, well-“ Diana hesitated, glancing at the Gryffindor girl. “We hadn’t tried them yet, Madam Cuthbert.”

“Why ever not?” Marilla asked, surprised. Diana Barry was no sloucher when it came to school work, though Marilla was proud to say that she could never quite keep up with her Anne. Not that Marilla would ever say that.

“I don’t want to lose my hair!” Ruby said in a rush, glancing at Anne’s nearly bald head with a look of fear. Anne flinched.

"Fiddlesticks,” Marilla tutted at Ruby’s hysteria. “This was a rare mistake, Miss Gillis, you needn’t worry. Practice the spell a few times without your wand and your hair should remain firmly on your head.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Ruby fretted.

“Then I imagine you and Anne will be twins,” Marilla said dryly. “I’ll go let Madam Edgecomb that Anne will be needing some hair regrowth potions for the next several weeks-“

“Several weeks?!” Anne’s head snapped up as she looked at Marilla in horror. “Oh Marilla, surely there must be a faster way!”

“I’m afraid not,” Marilla stated. “You’ll just have to bear it growing for the next few months Anne. Be thankful that it’s still warm out, this would be quite a nuisance if it were the dead of winter.”

“How on earth can I be thankful for this ?” Anne demanded. “I look like I had lice!”

“I don’t know what lice is, but I would take this as a lesson to be careful with your spell pronunciation in the future,” Marilla said. “Better your hair than your fingers. That isn’t something so easily fixed with a potion.”

Anne went a little white at the thought and that was the end of her complaining.

“I think it looks a little longer already,” Diana said encouragingly after Anne gulped down the vile smelling hair regrowth potion.

“And we could tie a ribbon around it, as it grows out,” Ruby added, untying one of the lacy pink ribbons from her hair. “I think that would look most splendid Anne, a beautiful pink bow around your head.”

“Blue would be better,” Diana mused, glancing at Anne’s blue and bronze robes. “Here, Anne, you can use mine.”  She pulled the blue ribbon from her own head and tied it artfully around the red fuzz that had once been Anne’s hair.

“If we’re quite done playing dress up, I believe that all three of you are supposed to be in class right now,” Marilla said dryly. The three girls scrambled to their feet and rushed out of Marilla’s office, Anne calling out a goodbye as she ran along.

Marilla waited until they were long out of earshot before allowing herself to smile a little. It was heartening to see that Anne had such good friends around her.

***

Anne did her best to hold her head high as she entered the Transfiguration classroom. Diana clutched her hand tightly in support.

There was a loud gasp from Jane as she saw them, and Musa and Cetus both grimaced in sympathy when they realized that Anne’s hair had not been magically regrown since charms. There were a few jeers and hoots from the Slytherin side of the room, and Anne felt her face burn in embarrassment. Jane sent a scathing look over at them, and the Ravenclaws all deliberately turned away, closing ranks.

“Anne?”

For the second time in less than 24 hours, Anne found herself staring right at Gilbert Blythe.

“What are you doing here?” Anne blurted out. Then, because she couldn’t stop thinking about this last night as she tried to fall asleep– “There isn’t any gold.”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t come back for any gold.” Gilbert said hastily, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I, well, I came back for school, but since I missed my fourth year,” he shrugged in a rather careless manner, as if it couldn’t be helped, “Twycross had me switch into this year,” Gilbert smirked. “Looks like we’re officially classmates.”  

“Oh,” Anne said.  

“It’s good to see you Gilbert,” Diana broke in, polite and well-mannered to the end.

"You too,” Gilbert responded, his eyes flicking to Diana before coming back to Anne. “Both of you, I mean.”

Anne had never wanted Professor Phillips to arrive and start class more, if it meant she could end this strange conversation before she died of mortification.

Fate, it seemed, had Anne’s side for once.

“Settle down, settle down,” Phillips drawled as he swept into the room, and the children all scattered to their seats. Anne sat in between Diana and Jane, pulling her books and quills out and steadfastly ignoring the giggles from the back of the classroom.

“It looks like Ravenclaw has a new boy,” Phillips sneered, and Anne gritted her teeth. “Would you prefer to move to sit with one of the other lads?” Phillips continued, and the giggling got louder.

“We should practice the severing charm on his ridiculous mustache,” Diana muttered, uncharacteristically enraged.

“Let’s just focus on the lesson,” Anne whispered back, touched. “We can’t afford to lose Ravenclaw points on the first day.”

“I’ll suggest it to Cole then,” Diana vowed. “Gryffindor probably lost points already, it’s not like they care.”

***

Shaved head or not, Anne still earned Ravenclaw ten points in transfiguration class that day.

Gilbert earned Slytherin twenty.

Anne seethed all through History of Magic. 

 ***

“Pair up and talk about the symbology of dreams in chapter one,” Professor Crisswell instructed the fourth year divination class. “For the next month we will be analyzing these symbols as we work on understanding and influencing our own subconscious dream state, so it would be in your best interest now to devote yourselves to understanding each symbols meaning.”

Jerry turned to Moody, the only other Hufflepuff boy in divination, but he had already paired up with Paul, whose disdainful glare when Jerry caught his eye quickly dissuaded any hope of joining their group.

At the next table over, Ruby was having the same trouble as Tilly, her usual partner, had been claimed by Antilia, because her friend Philippa wanted to pair up with one of the Gryffindor boys.

“I said to pair up!” Crisswell repeated, suddenly appearing in front of Jerry and Ruby. “Baynard, Gillis, stop dilly dallying and get out your textbooks, the two of you can work together.”

It was eerie, Jerry thought, how much the vague, double-speaking professor of divination sounded like Marilla when he spoke. Jerry wasn’t overly fond of the similarity, having decided year ago that there was only room for one Marilla figure in his life.

“Jerry, right?” Ruby asked, as if they hadn’t spoken a handful of times since first year due to their mutual relation to Anne and to a lesser extent Diana and Cole.

Ruby was quiet a moment, then “Did you understand anything about the dream symbology chapter?”

“I haven’t understood anything since I started this class last year,” Jerry said frankly. Ruby blinked at the candor, before she smiled slightly.

Emboldened, Jerry went on. “Marilla said not to sign up for it, she thinks it’s a load of wash, but it was either this or Ancient Runes, and two languages is enough for me.”

“My great aunt was supposedly a bit of a seer,” Ruby said. “I think it’s fascinating, being able to see what’s ahead, but I don’t see how our dreams are supposed to warn us.”

“I once dreamed that I was sinking into a vegetable patch next to a bunch of carrots,” Jerry said flatly. “I don’t think my subconscious wants me to untangle that.”

“What could that even mean? ” Ruby giggled, wondering.

“Probably that Anne is going to be the death of me,” Jerry muttered. “Didn’t need divination for that, I’ve known it for years.”

“Does she always ask you to read her future too?” Ruby shook her head. “She was so keen on it last year I almost just gave her my textbook!”

“You too?” Jerry asked, rolling his eyes. “She gave up asking me by February because I threatened to tell Marilla on her, but I’m sure she’ll start up again asking for dream interpretation when she learns what we’re studying.”

“What are you going to tell her?” Ruby asked, cracking open her divination book when Crisswell swept by.

“I’m just going to interpret for her in French and tell her it’s what the spirits wanted,” Jerry said cheerfully. “She’ll get so annoyed, it’ll be funny.” 

***

“Uh, Anne?” Cole asked sheepishly in charms one day. “Do you perhaps have a quill I can borrow?”

“Again, Cole?” Anne sighed, but there was a fond smile on her face. “You forget more quills more than Moody, and that’s saying something.”

“Sorry, I was drawing at my desk last night, I must have left it with my sketchbook,” Cole gave her his most pleading look. “Surely you, as my kindred spirit, wouldn’t leave me unable to take notes?”

“Here,” Anne handed an extra one over. “But you have to give it back at the end of the day, promise?”

“I will,” Cole assured her.

“I mean it Cole, Marilla gave me a quota on how many quills I can use before Christmas,” Anne said gravely. “I can’t lose any.”

“I will Anne,” Cole repeated solemnly.

“Just don’t forget,” Anne warned him.

“What would happen if I did?”

“You don’t want to find out McKenzie.” 

***

Wednesday afternoons meant that Musa and Diana bid the rest of the Ravenclaws farewell after lunch and headed toward the western tower on the fourth floor for their muggle studies lesson.

Muggle Studies was always an unpopular subject choice, scarcely breaking the teens in terms of enrollment, and the fourth years was no exception. Diana and Musa were the only Ravenclaws, along with a Hufflepuff girl and a Gryffindor boy. There weren’t any Slytherins – Diana suspected that there had never been a Slytherin enrolled in a muggle studies class since it was first introduced to Hogwarts 150 years ago.

Therefore it had been quite a shock to her when she had entered the classroom on the first day and seen none other than Gilbert Blythe, head buried in a textbook, sitting in the first row.

“My father always encouraged me to be open to other ways of thinking,” Gilbert had shrugged when Diana, as the only person who really knew Gilbert socially, had inquired into his presence there. “I took it as a third year, and naturally I couldn’t drop it when I came back, it was mad useful to me last year when I was in the muggle world-“

“Useful is an interesting term for it, Blythe,” Professor Lacroix had appeared at the top of the stairs, smirking down at the pair. “I recall a great deal more struggle on your part to assimilate.” Gilbert just laughed the words off, but the interaction hadn’t been lost on the rest of the class. Somehow, Gilbert Blythe, golden boy (and returned prodigal wanderer) of Hogwarts, was connected to the new muggle studies professor.

It hadn’t taken long for Professor Lacroix to prove himself far more competent than his predecessor. He hardly ever used the textbook, instead focusing on concepts in whatever order he decided, taking them through muggle finances first.

“Let’s get you lot to the point where you can survive in the muggle world without being caught right off the bat,” Lacroix said when Musa asked if they would be continuing to learn about electricity. “Once you can last a week on your own, then we’ll tackle science and electricity.”

Musa may have liked O’Connelly, but he and Diana alike quickly came to enjoy Lacroix’s classes.

“His accent’s even better than O’Connelly’s” Musa said after their second class. “He makes even muggle money sound exciting, like there’s some sort of magical mystery to it the rest of us will get eventually.”

“I think you just like accents, Musa,” Diana said, amused, and Musa shrugged thoughtfully.

Diana reckoned herself capable in muggle studies – hanging out with Jerry and Anne certainly boosted her grades – but there was unique competition this year in Gilbert Blythe. It was partially just that Gilbert was smart, one of the best in the school, but his own passion for the subject certainly contributed to his success. Diana had never seen someone else take to muggle studies with such determination and interest.

Diana would have considered taking him on as a study partner, would it not have both horrified Anne and encouraged Ruby to join them simultaneously. The Gryffindor girl had been over the moon to learn that not only was Gilbert returned from his ventures abroad, but that he was in their year.

According to Cole, her natural talent in potions (which they shared with the Slytherins) was the only thing saving her from being blown up due to a wandering attention span.

They did end up working on an in class money conversion assignment together at the end of September, which resulted in Diana gaining 15 points for Ravenclaw as Gilbert somehow managed to lose Slytherin ten points.

“Didn’t you have to use muggle money last year?” Diana asked as Gilbert once again bungled the conversion.

Gilbert nodded, a dead look of horror on his face. “I don’t understand – how can this many francs be equal to a sickle? Is France economically ruined? Or is it successful? This doesn’t make a lick of sense!”

“That’s because you didn’t properly convert the Spanish coins correctly,” Diana said, looking over his work. “It’s really just math, Gilbert, like arithmacy.”

“Arithmacy makes sense, ” Gilbert replied fervently. “Why can’t they all just use the same coin?”

“How on earth did you handle this last year?”

“I really couldn’t tell you Diana,” Gilbert shook his head.

“He didn’t” Diana heard Professor Lacroix mutter under his breath from the table, and Gilbert scowled.

“He’s doing this to mess with me, I swear,”

Diana decided to pair up with Musa the next time.

***

“Excellent job as per usual, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert,” Professor MacMillian said approvingly as she surveyed Anne’s pruned bubotuber plant. “That one’s good enough to let it mature by sunlight naturally from here on out, go ahead and put it over there with the others.

There were two other plants sitting out in the sun where the Professor indicated. Anne had seen Jerry place his there not ten minutes before, but the remaining plant had been there before they had arrived to class.

Professor MacMillian caught Anne staring.

“Only one from the Gryffindor-Slytherin class managed to get their’s up to scuff,” the herbology teacher said cheerfully. “Mr Blythe always did know his plants though, thumb as green as his robes.”

***

Marilla was climbing the staircase to the Entrance Hall at a ridiculously late hour, feeling rather irritable about her whole present situation. She had been called from Green Gables right as she had been about to fall asleep, as two of her Hufflepuff students had been found out of bed by Prissy Andrews during rounds, and in a rather compromising situation. Marilla had delivered a tirade to end all tirades on the expectations of the students of Hufflepuffs, the ramifications of their inappropriate behavior, and the promise that she would be informing their families of their transgressions. Both students had been rather white-faced and ashamed by the end.

“Foolish, reckless children,” Marilla fumed as she stalked up the staircase. “Wandering around after hours, engaging in such – proclivity!”

Marilla was so caught up in her rage that she didn’t notice the other person turning the corner until it was too late, and they collided rather forcefully.

“Merlin above!” Marilla gasped, hastily getting on her feet and starting to gather up the other person’s quills and parchment off the floor. “I do apologize, I wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention-“

“Not a thing to worry about,” the other person waved off her apology, and the accent told Marilla exactly who she had just bumped into.

“Professor Lacroix!” Marilla fumbled over the name slightly, her embarrassment now tinged with discomfort. She hadn’t had much interaction with Hogwarts’ newest professor, having been too busy with Green Gables and Hufflepuff to stop by the staff room since term began.

“Madam Cuthbert,” Professor Lacroix replied easily, a friendly smile gracing his face. “What brings you here so late at night? I thought you lived off grounds with your brother?”

“Head of House duties, I’m afraid,” Marilla said tightly. “Students misbehaving in the most disgraceful of manner.”

“Oh?” Professor Lacroix said, eyes dancing with mirth. “Well, can’t say I’m much surprised at that. Cope teenagers up long enough and a few of them are bound to get restless.”

“That doesn’t mean they should act on such indecently,” Marilla said, tone rather frosty at the thought of more of her young charges engaging in such practices. “We are a school, not a barnyard of animals.”

Professor Lacroix coughed strangely at that. “Right, right, of course Madam Cuthbert. I didn’t mean to offend you.” He looked rather downcast, as if Marilla had just taken him to task.

A slight twinge akin to guilt tugged at Marilla. This was hardly a good first impression to make.

“No, no, I apologize,” Marilla sighed. “You caught me in a rather terrible mood, I’m afraid, Professor Lacroix. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, you’re hardly the one in the wrong,” Indeed, Marilla  prided herself on keeping her emotions in check usually. Anne’s own fiery spirit seemed to be rubbing off on her. “Fine first impression I seem to be leaving you with, welcoming you to the school in such a manner. I am very sorry to yell at you,” Marilla nodded her head, handing him the quills she had gathered up.

“Huh,” Professor Lacroix seemed taken aback. “You’re the first professor to say that you know,” He said idly.

“Apologize?” Marilla frowned. She knew that many of the professors were less than pleased about Lacroix’s appointment – she had heard many a mutter about it during any dinner hours she attended. But she had assumed that they would remain professional about their co-workers. Now, she was faced with the uncomfortable truth that her assumption had been closer to willfull ignorance.

“Welcome me to the school,” Lacroix corrected, not an ounce of bitterness in his tone.

“Oh,” Marilla blinked. She didn’t know how to respond to that, rubbing her hands awkwardly against her robe.

“I – I heard good things from the students about your lessons,” Marilla said, feeling a need to say something of comfort. “I’ve got a few of my charges in muggle studies, and they’re all enjoying it.”

“There are a great deal of Hufflepuffs in comparison to the other houses,” Lacroix said thoughtfully. “Been wondering a bit about that.”

“Hufflepuff usually has the most muggleborns, and therefore the best relations with muggles,” Marilla said with a hint of pride. “We have three in our house currently, more than Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Slytherin doesn’t have any, hasn’t in decades.”

“That explains why Blythe is the only Slytherin in my class,” Lacroix muttered.

“Gilbert Blythe?” Marilla said in surprise. There was the usual small pain that came whenever she thought of John’s only remaining son, and the lost possibilities of what might have been. “He’s in muggle studies?”

“Aye, not bad at it considering he was downright helpless tryin’ to interact with muggles last year,” Lacroix chuckled. “Boy was like a baby duck.”

“You were- you were with Gilbert last year?” Marilla asked, feeling like she was losing any remaining grip on the conversation that she had left. This night was just too much.

She had heard rumors that Gilbert Blythe and Professor Lacroix knew each other, but Marilla, as a lifelong friend of one Mrs Lynde, didn’t put much stock into rumors.

“I was in truth, it’s how I ended up here,” Professor Lacroix told her. “Spent a year running into all types of trouble after him and at the end of it he turns and decides that not only is he headed back to his school, but I’m going with him,” Lacroix shook his head. “Boy’s a strange sort of wonder, but he was right about Headmaster Twycross. Gave me a chance most wouldn’t.”

In that moment, Marilla caught a small glimpse beyond the practiced air that Lacroix guarded himself with, into the lifelong hurt of pain and lonliness he must have faced. Something in her softened, ever so slightly. Reaching out, she grasped Professor Lacroix’s shoulders warmly, patting them.

“Give them time,” Marilla advised. “They can be a pretentious group at first, flocking together, but they’ll come around soon enough.”

She removed her hands, suddenly feeling awkward about all the patting, as if he were one of her first year students instead of a fully grown wizard. Professor Lacroix caught them however, squeezing them gently.

“Thank you,” Professor Lacroix said, quietly but utterly sincere. “You’ve done me a kindness, Madam Cuthbert, and I do appreciate it.”

“Call me Marilla, please,” she insisted, shaking his hand. She was a Hufflepuff after all, and they welcomed one and all. “We’re both staff here, after all.”

“Only if you call me Bash,” Professor Lacroix responded. “Been a long while since I heard anyone use it.”

“Bash, then,” Marilla repeated. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

***

 “Say, Diana,” Henry caught up to her after quidditch practice one day, shouldering his broom. “Have you considered getting a new broom for this year? Be a bit hard for the autumn season, but maybe you could ask your parents for Christmas?”

“What’s wrong with the broom I have?” Diana asked, feeling a little defensive on her broom’s behalf. It wasn’t anything flashy, but it was a solid broom, and in good condition – the Barry’s wouldn’t spend a fortune on a broom that was (to their knowledge) getting hardly any use after first year, but they would also rather swim in the Lake of Shining Waters than buy anything second rate.

“It’s the Cleansweep model, right? A Cleansweep 3?” Henry nodded. “Good brooms but the flying charms start fading after a few years, and the speed decreases. Still ideal for keepers, and not as big a deal for beaters or chasers but makes it a bad fit for a seeker like you.”

Diana’s heart seized a little at that. She had never thought about that critically before, but she had known that professional quidditch players usually replaced their brooms every few years. And as a fourth year, her Cleansweep 3 was nearly four years old now, and getting a lot more wear and tear than her parents had anticipated.

“But the witch flying behind the broom matters more, doesn’t it?” Diana said desperately. “I mean – it’s not all just about the brooms.”

“Well, sort of,” Henry paused, turning the thought around in his head. “It’s not that different from wands, actually, though a great deal less picky. The strength of your magic – or, in the case of quidditch, flying ability – comes from the witch or wizard. But we use a wand to guide and sharpen our magic, as a tool of refinement. A good broom acts the same way. Use the wrong wand, or a mistreated wand, and your magic won’t work as well no matter how powerful you are. It’s the same with brooms after a few years,” Henry clapped a hand on Diana’s shoulder. “Just something to consider, Diana. I heard Gryffindor’s seeker has a top of the line broom, it would hard to compete against that.”

“And if I can’t get a new broom?” Diana was almost afraid to of what the response would be. What if they started looking for a new player, one who could get a top of the line broom? Diana didn’t want to imagine her school year without quidditch.

“Well then, it will come down to strategy,” Henry shrugged. “We’re Ravenclaws after all, no way Gryffindor is going to beat us on fancy brooms alone. But you should still consider it – the amount that you fly, you may need a new broom regardless.”

“Doesn’t the school have extras?” Diana remembered them being used in first year flying lessons.

“Yes but they’re mostly rubbish,” Henry explained. “If you can afford a good broom, its better to do that,” Henry clapped her on the shoulder again. “Just think about it, alright? I can help you look at models later, but I have to go talk to MacDonald about his tendency to flinch every time a bludger comes near him. I’ll see you up in the common room.”

“To be fair, a bludger gave him a concussion last year,” Diana reminded him.

“Doesn’t matter, I can’t have my players afraid of a bludger during a match,” Henry said breezily, veering off to corner the poor chaser. “Oi! MacDonald!”

Diana sighed as she was left alone with her thoughts. The walk back up to the castle provided neither a distraction or a solution to the quandary she was now in.

Henry couldn’t be blamed for his assumption that the Barry’s could easily purchase a new broom. Most of magical society knew that the Barry’s were rich. A new broom would hardly be a stretch for them, especially as a Christmas gift.

Or so it would have been, before last spring.

Diana wasn’t sure how dire their financial prospects were, but it was clear that their fortunes had been affected. Minnie May was writing to her more than ever, complaining of her mother’s strict insistence on her etiquette lessons and that no one ever laughed anymore. Diana’s heart went out to her little sister, but selfishly she was glad that she was here, at Hogwarts, and not trapped in that house.

A new broom may indeed be out of the questions in terms of money. But even if it wasn’t, how could Diana justify to her parents such a purchase? They would be sure to ask questions, especially her mother, as to why Diana would need a new broom. The truth would have to come out then, all the details about how Diana was on the school’s quidditch team against her mother and father’s wishes.

But maybe it was time for the truth to come out, on her own terms, Diana reflected. She couldn’t keep a secret like this forever. It was filling her with guilt on the inside every time her mother or father praised her good behavior, never knowing she was actively participating in the most un-ladylike behavior possible.

Logically, Diana also knew that the more time passed, the more likely the secret was to come out by someone else. Her friends or Aunt Josephine would never betray her, of course, but too many other people knew the truth. It was a miracle Madam Cuthbert hadn’t brought it up already- well, a miracle and Anne and Diana’s careful planning all summer long to ensure their mothers never met for longer than few minutes. But with Hogsmeade being right next to the school and how many students here were children of the Barry’s friends, word was bound to spread somehow.

There were too many dilemmas Diana was tied up in, she decided.

Firstly, there was the secret of her position on the Quidditch team and the perilous situation it was in.

Secondly there was the matter of her needing a new broom, and the question of if her parents would or could even buy her a new one.

Thirdly, there was the grim environment of her family itself, the dark fate of their finances swinging over their heads.

It was too many for Diana to deal with on her own.

She should talk to Anne, and maybe Jerry. Anne could certainly help her brainstorm the right words with which to talk to her parents, should Diana choose to do so, and Jerry may have some advice about brooms. His own broom belonged to the school, and appeared in fine condition. Should her quidditch playing remain a forbidden secret, she would have to rely on a school broom eventually.

More importantly, Diana knew neither of them would breathe a word about her family’s issues.

Diana felt a little lighter as she found Anne in their usual spot in the common room, her eyes lighting up as she spotted Diana. Her hair had grown a little over the last month, falling right under her ears. Jane must have styled it for her after dinner, pulling it back out of Anne’s face with a blue and bronze clip.

Diana let Anne’s chatter soothe her as she settled down, her troubles already drifting away. She was a Ravenclaw, and more importantly, she was Diana Barry. She would figure it out.

***

Anne hurried through the forest. She had spent the afternoon with Matthew in the forest, and time had slipped away faster than she realized. The dinner hour was drawing near, and Anne needed to be back in the castle before she was caught and reprimanded for being out of bounds (again). Marilla would not be happy, given Anne already had served two detentions this fall. One had been for “backtalking” Professor Allen, which Anne felt was wholly undeserved.

The second had been for short-sheeting several older Ravenclaw’s sheets after she overheard them being rude to a first year muggleborn Ravenclaw. She had taken them to task about it, but they had merely laughed her off as “overly sensitive and passionate.” Anne decided that more decisive action was needed.

(Pippet may have helped her out with that last one, smuggling her in the boys dorms so that she didn’t get caught. Unfortunately, the distinct lack of magic involved meant that Anne was quickly discovered as the culprit.)

As such, Anne’s record really could not withstand being caught out after dark, especially near the forest. Anne may disagree with the rule about the forest being out of bounds (why on earth have the forest included in the grounds if they were just going to be forbidden?) but she didn’t want to lose Ravenclaw any more points. They just had to beat Slytherin in the house cup.

(And Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, of course, but Anne mostly wanted to beat Slytherin.)

Anne was in the midst of narrating this very thought outloud to the trees when a soft, pitiful chattering noise reached her ears.

“Hello?” Anne asked, looking around. “Is someone there?” Her words left out clouds of steam in the cold winter air.

There was no answer, but the chattering sound continued. Anne drew out her wand, as a precaution, but the forest atmosphere felt as welcoming and friendly as ever, no trace of danger nearby.

Anne listened more intently, trying to pinpoint the sound. She treaded softly over the fallen leaves and patches of old fallen snow, drawing closer to an old tree.

The chattering sound grew louder.

“Dear tree?” Anne asked, heart in throat. She hardly dared to believe it. “Is that you? Are you a dryad after all?”

Marilla may have been adamant that dryads didn’t exist, but Anne had never believed her. Wandwood came from trees after all, there had to be something magical about them.

Anne’s heart thumped in anticipation as she drew closer to the tree. The chattering noise grew louder, filling her ears. The dryad must be just out of sight. Anne walked around the massive roots carefully. One step in front of the other. She forced herself to go slowly, to not scare the dryad back into hiding. She reached the bend in the trunk. The sound of the tree’s chitter-chatter beat in time with her pulse. She turned around the bend.

And met the sight of a plain stretch of wizened tree bark, no dryad in sight.

Anne’s excitement plummeted as quickly as it had built.

Peering closer, she found the source of the noise. Nestled in the rivets of the tree bark was a tiny little bowtruckle, frantically chittering.

“Poor little thing,” Anne whispered, stroking it’s back in attempt to calm it. Matthew had shown her and Jerry bowtruckle colonies often, there were several scattered throughout the forest, but Anne knew of none this close to the castle.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Anne cooed. “Surely your family must be missing you an awful lot.”

The bowtruckle relaxed slightly under Anne’s touch, leaning into her hand. Anne stroked it a few more times, then bent her hand down. The bowtruckle took the invitation readily, crawling onto her hand.

Holding the bowtruckle closer, Anne realized the source of it’s distress. Two of the legs were bent at unnatural angles, making movement almost impossible. This close, she could also see traces of fungal spots dotted up and down the bowtruckle’s back.

“How terrible,” Anne said, cupping her hand protectively around the tiny creature. “Your tree is dying, and you were left behind when all the other bowtruckles left, weren’t you? Abandoned by your family-“ Something in Anne’s chest clenched tight, filling her with an old, familiar sense of misery and sadness.

“You must have felt all alone in the world,” Anne whispered to the bowtruckle. “I know how that feels. But don’t you worry. I’m going to get you fixed right up. Matthew will know how to cure you, or Professor Catchpole. You’re not alone anymore. I promise.”

An owl hooted in the branches above them, letting Anne know she was not the only one to spot the helpless creature.

“Go away!” Anne snapped at the owl, stowing the bowtruckle safely against her chest. “You can’t have him!”

The owl glared at her with big yellow eyes, but Anne stood firm, shaking her fist until the bird flew away.

“Right,” Anne said, resume her quick pace back to the castle, one hand still curled around the bowtruckle in her robe pocket. “Lets get back up to the castle for supper, and Professor Catchpole can cure you there. Everything will be alright. You’ll see.”

 ***

“Anne,” Jane stared at her roommate’s bed suspiciously. “Is that a bowtruckle hiding on your bedpost?”

“His name is Sir Hollyoak,” Anne said cheerfully. “He was abandoned and dying in the forest after his tree began to wither and his family left because he was crippled. But Professor Catchpole cured his fungal spots, and the legs will recover with time. Until then, I promised myself I would watch over him.”

“You’re going to keep a bowtruckle as a pet?” Jane wrinkled her nose a little.

“As a companion, ” Anne corrected. “Don’t worry, I already warned him to stay up high in the dorm so that Nimue won’t try to eat him. He’ll mostly be with me anyway.”

Jane turned to Diana in hope of some support against this latest foolishness of Anne’s, but Diana was already at Anne’s bedpost, cooing over the small bowtruckle.

“Oh Anne, he’s darling!”

Jane admitted defeat through a rather pointed sigh of exasperation.

At times like this, she almost wished she had been put in one of the other houses. She knew for a fact Ruby and Tilly never did anything like this.

***

“Matthew,” Marilla started over supper a few days before the winter holidays. “I have been thinking about our Christmas dinner this year.”

“Just us and Anne innit it?” Matthew asked, tearing off his bread to dip in the stew. “Jerry said his family wanted him home for the holidays this year.”

“Well, that being as it is, we’ll have some extra room and it may be in the Christmas spirit to invite a few neighbors over,” Marilla said. “Just a few, to partake in Christmas dinner with.”

Matthew looked like he had been caught in a hippogriffs trap.

“Not the Lyndes?” He asked hoarsely, eyebrows nearly up to his forehead.

“Matthew Cuthbert,” Marilla chided at the insult to their neighbors. “But no, not the Lyndes. Rachel and Thomas are going to visit their daughter down in Whales.”

“Oh. Good,” Matthew looked relieved. “For the Lyndes, I mean. That they’re, um, visiting family.”

“Mhmm,” Marilla fixed him a knowing look, well aware of what Matthew had really meant.

“Wait then- then who?” Matthew frowned, realizing these mystery guests were still unaccounted for.

“Bash and Gilbert Blythe,” Marilla informed him, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin.

Matthew blinked.

He had heard of one of those names before.

The other – did Marilla just say Bash?

“Oh Matthew do try to keep up,” Marilla sighed. “Bash is the new muggle studies professor at Hogwarts, and seems to acting as some sort of guardian to Gilbert. They’ve got some sort of cottage up in the north end of the village, but that’s no way to spend the Christmas holiday, holed up and all alone. Besides, Bash is our colleague and neighbor, and it is our duty to make him feel welcome.”

“I – well,” Matthew flustered. “Sounds like you’ve got your mind made up.”

“I’m glad you agreed,” Marilla said. “You can come with me to invite them.”

She ignored his look of horror in favor of finishing her stew.

***

To the disgruntlement of the fourth year students, their last astronomy lesson of the term landed on the night before break began. Even Anne struggled to keep up her usual poetic optimism about lessons under night sky as she and the other nineteen fourth years dragged themselves from their warm common rooms up to the astronomy tower.

Anne huddled next to Diana for warmth, her fingers numb underneath the holes in her gloves. The Ravenclaws were always the first to arrive to Astronomy, coming from towers themselves, with the Gryffindors close behind.

“This has got to be a punishment of some kind,” Cole muttered as he and Ruby joined their group. “It’s below freezing tonight.”

“I c-can’t feel my nose,” Ruby said pitifully, her face almost as pink as her hair ribbons from the chilled. Cole wrapped an arm around her and she leaned into it gratefully, practically hunched over from the wind.

“Oh thank god, Anne,” Jerry said, popping up on Anne’s other side. He shoved his own Hufflepuff scarf around Anne’s shoulders while pulling the Ravenclaw one from her. Diana, Cole and Ruby hardly blinked at this interaction, more than used to it. “Cast a warming charm won’t you? Yours are always more powerful than the rest of ours.” He paused, looking more carefully at her. “Where’s your hat? Your hair is barely covering your neck, you’re going to freeze.”

“If I can get my hands to stop shaking long enough to wave my wand, I’ll cast a warming charm,” Anne said, reluctantly pulling her hands away from Diana’s grasp and reaching toward her school bag. “And don’t mention my hair Jerry!”

“Touchy,” Jerry muttered, as Diana reached out and adjusted Anne’s scarf so that it covered her neck.

Anne looked around furtively before opening her bag for her wand.

A slight squeaking noise came from inside, right as a small green head poked itself out of a woolen blue and bronze hat.

Everyone except Diana looked at the bag, than at Anne.

“Anne,” Cole said with exaggerated patience. “Is that a bowtruckle?”

“Yes,” Anne replied, not looking at them as she rummaged for her wand. “Hold on a sec, I almost got my wand-“

“Anne, why on earth do you have a bowtruckle?” Ruby asked.

“She saved it from dying,” Diana explained, smiling fondly at the tiny creature.

“His name is Sir Hollyoak,” Anne added, finally coming up with her wand. “I’m looking after him until he’s ready to go back to the forest, so not a word to the teachers, alright?”

“You should worry more about Marilla,” Jerry warned her, reaching out to scratch the bowtruckle’s back. “Aww, he’s kind of cute,” Jerry smiled. “Look at his tiny little leaf fingers!”

“I was hoping Matthew would help me hide him from Marilla,” Anne said. “Pity you aren’t joining us Jerry, you could help hide him.”

“I’m not hiding anything from Marilla ever, Anne.”

“I’ve never seen one this close before,” Ruby admitted. “I always pictured them as like stumpy little twigs, you know? Not so…sweet looking.”

“He is sort of adorable,” Cole agreed. “Anne, do you think I could draw him when he’s healed? He’s expressions are incredible.”

“If he’s ok with it,” Anne agreed, patting Sir Hollyoak fondly on the head as she cast the warming charm with her other hand. There was a shared sigh of relief as a heat wave washed over them all.

“You’re the absolute best Anne,” Ruby beamed as the others echoed the sentiment. Anne, never accustomed to compliments, blushed.

“Is that a bowtruckle?” A new voice inquired, as Gilbert Blythe stepped into their circle. Anne threw her bag shut instantly, glaring at him even as Ruby went red, shuffling away from Cole’s arm to be closer to Gilbert.

“No,” Anne said sharply, clutching her hand over her bag protectively. Gilbert raised his eyebrow, clearly aware she was lying, but didn’t press on the matter.

“Anne saved it from dying in the woods!” Ruby piped up, eager to talk to the focus of her romantic affections.

“Ruby,” Anne and Diana hissed, as an amused smile spread across Gilbert’s face.

“Why are you even over here?” Anne demanded, still glaring at Gilbert. He didn’t flinch at all, merely staring back, his eyes flickering down to her Hufflepuff scarf with some confusion.

“I was going to ask if I could join your group,” Gilbert said mildly. “We have to finish an entire star chart in an hour, and you’re also the only group who was smart enough to cast a warming charm.”

“Anne did it,” Diana said, always quick to assign credit where it was due.

“Of course you can join us!” Ruby hastened to add, her eyes more starry than the night sky at the idea of working with Gilbert.

Anne made a show of rolling her eyes, but a nudge from Diana stopped her from arguing. She could do this for Ruby, she supposed.

“I, uh, thanks,” Gilbert said, a little taken aback by Ruby’s enthusiasm. He glanced at Anne, who looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with Diana’s cloak fastening. Jerry shuffled slightly, a bit uncomfortable with all the tension, while next to him Cole was starting to smirk.

 “We should get started, if we want to return to the dorms soon,” Diana stated, pulling out her astronomy textbook and several rolls of parchment. “Jerry, go fetch us a telescope, Cole and I will start drawing out the fixed planets. Ruby, Gilbert, Anne, you’re on research.“

“Uh, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare quill would you?” Cole asked Diana. “Mine broke in transfiguration, too much pressure-“

“Here, use this,” Diana said, handing him a rather fine-looking quail feather quill. “And in case it breaks, take another one,” Diana pulled out an extra one for them both.

“Thanks,” Cole said with relief. “I’ll have to get more over Christmas, all of mine are broken or lost.”

“It’s a shame we can’t use pens,” Anne commented from where she sat flipping through the astronomy textbook. “Much more convenient than quills, even if it ruins the medieval aesthetic the magical world exudes.”

“What’s a pen?” Ruby asked.

“Its like a quill, but you don’t have to dip it in ink as often when you write, and it’s a lot studier,” Anne explained. “Dead useful in the muggle world, I’m surprised that the magical world never bothered to improve quills to be like it.”

“Muggles do come up with the most fascinating inventions,” Ruby marveled, and Anne and Jerry gave her a grateful smile.

Anne, focused back on her textbook, didn’t see the soft look of admiration on Gilbert’s face.

Cole, however, did. 

***

“Why did you do this to me Blythe,” Bash groaned dramatically as he shivered in the wind. “There ain’t no sun here, no warmth. I haven’t seen the ground since November.”

“It seems you’ve met your match Bash,” Gilbert grinned impudently. “The great Sebastian Lacroix, brought down by a mere Scottish winter.”

“At least up at the castle it’s warm,” Bash muttered. “I swear our cottage doesn’t have any heat at all. Don’t that fancy school of yours teach you any extra strong fire spells?”

“You work at that ‘fancy school’ now,” Gilbert reminded him, “And I can’t use magic outside school until I’m seventeen remember?”

“Blythe, I give you permission right now to use magic whenever you like outside Hogwarts grounds,” Bash said. “Anyone tries to arrest you, we’ll just apparate on back to someplace warm.”

“Seems like a sound plan of action,” Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Or, you could just listen to me and put on an extra cloak the next time we leave the cottage.”

“You vex me, Blythe,” Bash informed him seriously. “Does the rest of the world know how much of a terror you are? I’m telling Madam Cuthbert tonight at dinner, don’t give that terror Blythe any extra helpings, he don’t deserve it.”

“Right,” Gilbert indulged him. “Let me know how that goes for you. Buck up, we’re almost there.”

“Oh?” Bash’s mood flipped like a switch. “Excited to see a certain someone?”

“Excited to get away from you , ” Gilbert retorted, but Bash thought the pink around his ears wasn’t just from the cold.

“This is going to be a good meal,” Bash said gleefully.

Gilbert threw a snowball at him.

***

“Anne!” Diana threw her arms around her bosom friend, feeling giddy with joy. “Happy Christmas!”

“Oh, most blessed of Christmas’ Diana!” Anne cried in return, squeezing her tightly.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay long, the whole family is flooing to Aunt Jo’s tonight for Christmas dinner, but I couldn’t leave without giving you your present,” Diana pulled back from Anne and reached into her basket for the brightly wrapped colored package.

“I have something for you too,” Anne said, her eyes shining in excitement. “Upstairs, in my room.” The two girls raced up the stairs, full of smiles and giggles as they ignored Marilla’s half hearted lecture.

“Open it,” Diana insisted once they reached Anne’s room, pushing the package into her hands. “I want to see your face when you see it.”

“Oh Diana ,” Anne breathed as she gently pulled the package paper aside to reveal a magnificent eagle feather quill. “Diana it’s perfect, I can only image what stately and impressive stories and essays this quill will bring to life.”

“That’s not all,” Diana said, reveling that familiar mischievous glee that she had long since connected to Anne’s presence in her life. “It’s enchanted with an automatic ink refilling spell, so that it never runs dry!”

Anne gave a shocked laugh, testing it out immediately on a scrap of parchment that lay on her desk. Anne Shirley Cuthbert shone on the page, with all of Anne’s dramatic flourishes.

“I got inspired from the last astronomy lesson,” Diana admitted. “It took a few attempts, but Aunt Jo helped me with the magic, and Cole had a few good ideas for the charms-“

“I love it,” Anne said, her voice brimming with fondness. “ Thank you, Diana,” Anne pulled a small package off of her bureau, and Diana recognized the tell tale practical brown wrapping paper that was certainly Marilla’s doing just as much as the thin purple ribbon tied around it was Anne’s.

“This is just one part, and more for Alethia than you,” Anne explained, as Diana peeked inside to see a tidy amount of owl treats. Diana wasn’t surprised at all that Anne was giving Alethia gifts; the redhead spoiled Diana’s owl more than Diana did.

“And this is for you-“ Anne said excitedly, grabbing at what looked like a chain from the back of the dressing table. In her eagerness, however, she over-reached and the necklace went flying, crashing on the ground.

“Oh no,” Anne moaned. They both knelt quickly on the ground, where Diana was able to properly see the gift. It was an old-fashioned necklace, just the right size to not be ostentatious, and carved into the shape of a heart. Diana realized it must have once been a locket, but the fall had broken the hinge.

“Diana I am so so terribly sorry, I’m sure we can ask Marilla or Matthew to cast reparo-“ Anne was babbling, sounding wretched.

“No, this is perfect!” Diana said, having been struck with an idea as soon as she saw the two halves of the hearts. “We can both have one half!”

A wide grin broke over Anne’s face at the thought. “And they’ll only be whole when we’re together!”

“It’s the perfect bosom friend symbol!” Diana finished, hurriedly pulling out her hair ribbon and sliding one of the locket halves on to it. Anne helped her tied the ribbon around her neck, and Diana fastened the second half around Anne.

“It’s perfect,” they said in unison when they were both finished, and once again they were overcome with a fit of giggles.

Diana was loathe to bring such a beautiful moment to an end, but her mother’s repeated warnings not to dawdle were stuck in her head, and regretfully she stood up.

“I have to get home, but we must see each other again after Boxing day!” Diana declared, wrapping Anne in a farewell hug.

“Tell Aunt Jo Happy Christmas from me,” Anne requested. “I will have to send her a letter soon, Cole and I both, we’ve missed her so. I almost wish I could come with you!”

“And miss the excitement from dinner?” Diana said knowingly, sending Anne a sly smile.

“If there is to be any excitement from dinner, I’m sure it will be because of Professor Lacroix, and no one else,” Anne responded primly.

Diana doubted that, but out of the Christmas spirit, she decided not to push her dear friend any further.

Hours later, as the Barry family gathered around Aunt Jo’s magnificent Christmas tree singing carols as Diana played the piano, Diana found her thoughts drifting to Green Gables. As happy as Diana was, she half-wished she was there instead, if only to see what mess Anne might get herself into this time.

Later though, long after Diana’s parents and sister had gone to bed, Aunt Jo beckoned Diana into her room, giving her a sly wink, and presented her with Diana’s own very Christmas surprise.

“This is your real Christmas present love,” Aunt Barry said. “I thought it best not to give it to you in front of your parents, societal sheep that they are,” Aunt Jo sniffed heavily. “Do you like it?”

“Oh Aunt Jo,” Diana breathed, her hand hovering over the shiny broom handle. “Thank you.”

“Seeing your smile, Diana, makes me happy,” Josephine said, wrapping an arm around her niece. “You should get to do what makes you happy as well.”

***

Bash had been slightly surprised by the inside of the Cuthbert’s home. From what he had seen of Marilla Cuthbert at school, he would have expected it to be meticulous and organized, decorated more for practicality instead of splendor.

And while it certainly was very clean and tidy, there was an undeniable spirit of coziness and home that filled the whole house. Blankets and quilts draped over the couches and chairs and Bash counted a number of family pictures, heirlooms, and decorative odds and ends around the parlor. While the parlor was decorated with light pinks, blues and greens, many of the quilts were yellow and black, and Bash remembered that Marilla’s job was head of Hufflepuff house.

“It’s a lovely house,” Bash said politely as Marilla and Matthew welcomed them into the parlor. “Nice and warm,” he directed the last part at Gilbert, who just laughed at him.

“Why thank you Bash,” Marilla said kindly. “And a Happy Christmas to you both, by the way,” she added, her genuine smile putting Bash at ease.

“To you both as well,” Bash said, though Mister Cuthbert hadn’t said a word since Bash and Gilbert both came in. Gilbert had said he was a good man, but Bash knew of many good men whose kindness was limited to one particular type of folk.

Marilla seemed to notice her brother’s silence as well, and shot him a quelling look that Bash was sure he wasn’t supposed to see.

"I- I’ll be getting more wood for the fire,” her brother said awkwardly, shuffling out of the room. A beat of silence followed, before Bash cleared his throat.

“I see you’re very proud of your job,” he said lightly, gesturing to the numerous black and yellow quilts, and Marilla chuckled. 

“I do enjoy it, thought those have been in the family for decades,” she told Bash. “The whole family was in Hufflepuff for generations – Matthew and I both, our older brother, both of our parents and grandparents. Why, it was never really a question of where we would be sorted.”

“Anne’s sorting must have been a bit of a shock,” Bash commented. He knew for a fact that the redhead was in Ravenclaw.

“I admit, knitting blue and bronze instead of yellow and black was a change of pace,” Marilla reminisced. “But I don’t think I ever really had any doubt of where my Anne would end up. From the moment she showed up at our doorstep she was asking a million questions,” Marilla smiled. “If nothing else, I’m sure that she would have insisted on Ravenclaw on account of yellow and red both clashing with her hair.”

Her words were admonishing but Marilla’s tone was full of nothing but fondness and love for her charge, and Bash found himself liking her all the more for it.

“I’m looking forward to meeting Anne,” Bash said, catching Marilla’s eye before turning pointedly toward Gilbert. “I’ve heard a lot about her,” he teased. Gilbert scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Marilla’s eyebrows pinched together ever so slightly, and Bash knew she had caught his drift.

“She’s been excited to meet you as well, she was ever so upset that she wasn’t in muggle studies,” Marilla shook her head. “I don’t know what’s keeping her, she should be down soon. Ah, there’s Matthew.”

Matthew was struggling to get inside, his arms piled high with wood, and without thinking Bash jumped up to open the door, grabbing a few of the logs from Matthew’s overburdened arms as he passed.

“Ah, well, thank you, Sebastian,” Matthew said, nodding at him. “Nice of ya.”

“Anything to keep the fire going,” Bash joked, and was rewarded with a small, albeit confused, nod from Matthew.

Marilla was looking between them, and Bash suspected that she was trying to think of a natural conversation segue when the sound of someone walking down the stairs distracted all of them.

Anne was dressed in blue dress robes, her hair just above her shoulders, and her face lit up in a bright smile as she reached the parlor.

Gilbert shot up as if pulled by an invisible string, staring. Bash had to swallow his laughter hard – did the boy really have no idea of how obvious he was? – before standing as well, deliberately going slower than Gilbert had.

“Professor Lacroix,” Anne said, beaming as if she were the Christmas Angel herself. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, I’ve been ever so excited to make your acquaintance. I’ve never met anyone from outside England before, let alone a place as magnificent and wonderful as Trinidad! ” Anne said Trinidad in the way most people said Buckingham Palace and Bash decided on the spot that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert would be someone he got along with, Blythe aside.

Speaking of Blythe, he was watching the two of them with a look of both concern and confusion as Anne continued to speak, ignoring his presence completely, and Bash tucked the memory away to bring up at a later date. Probably when Gilbert refused to magically make the cottage warmer.

“I have ever so many questions, if you’d be pleased to answer them, about your travels and home, and all your adventures in the muggle world,” Anne went on, enthusiastically shaking Bash’s hand. “Not many witches and wizards have much experience with muggles, I’ve found, but Diana says you are a wonderful professor, one of her favourites-“

“Alright Anne, for Merlin’s sake let the man have his space,” Marilla cut Anne off, evidently well used to how overwhelming Anne’s first impressions could be.

“I’d be happy to answer any of your questions,” Bash smiled at Anne warmly. “There’s nothing I love more than talking about my island. The least I could do, anyway, after the warm welcome you gave me last September.”

Anne’s answering smile was so bright Bash thought he might have to look away lest he go blind. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Matthew watching the whole interaction with nothing short of absolute affection in his eye. Bash revised his earlier impression of the older man. Matthew Cuthbert wasn’t prejudiced – he was just shy.

All in all, Bash reflected as they all seated themselves down and the conversation turned to Hogwarts and the children’s studies, he found himself rather fond of the Cuthberts, and their unusual but loving version of a family.

Maybe there were people for him here besides Gilbert after all.

***

Christmas dinner was a lively affair, with Bash and Anne carrying most of the conversation as she asked him question after question. Gilbert chimed in with a tale or two about his and Bash’s adventures the year prior (which always earned him a look of awe or interest from Anne and shocked gasps from Marilla whenever the tale turned a tad dangerous) but he was mostly content to let the two of them talk. Neither of the Cuthberts were rather talkative, and Gilbert knew it had been a while since Bash had found himself the recipient of such undivided and eager attention.  

Anne’s energy was contagious, and Bash was such a good storyteller that Gilbert found himself watching them instead of eating more often than not. Eventually the tables turned, with Bash asking Anne the questions about her time at Hogwarts. Bash had just asked about the gold and alchemy fiasco when Marilla stepped in to remind both of them to finish their dinner before it grew cold.

 The adults pulled out a few bottles of wine and firewhiskey after all the puddings were finished off, and Anne and Gilbert were both subtly but firmly excused to go check on the fireplace and candles in the parlor.

Gilbert saw the tell tale signs of a smirk from Bash as they left, and resolved himself to an evening of teasing from the older man, who never seemed to tire of the same joke.

Gilbert was a little apprehensive as he followed Anne into the parlor. While she had been perfectly polite – almost friendly, even – to him all evening, he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been Marilla’s or Bash’s affect instead of a change of heart. For a few moments neither of them said anything as Anne stoked the fire. Gilbert wandered over to the Christmas tree to make sure the enchanted candles hadn’t gone out. He paused by the mantle afterwards, looking at the photos framed at the end.

The first was older, three children in Hufflepuff robes that Gilbert guessed to be either the Cuthberts or relatives. The second one had Anne in it, smaller than she was now and with her signature braids, with a boy that Gilbert thought looked familiar.

“That’s from two years ago,” Anne said suddenly, standing next to him. “Jerry stayed here for Christmas, and we had a massive snowball fight outside.”

Jerry, of course. Now that she had pointed it out, Gilbert recognized him. His stomach felt strangely heavy, and Gilbert wondered if he had eaten too much pudding after all.

Something caught his eye in the photo, and, glancing at Anne for permission, he pulled the photo down for a closer look. The Anne in the photo scowled at him, but photo-Jerry just waved. Anne’s scarf was too light to be her Ravenclaw blue and bronze one, and Gilbert suddenly remembered their last astronomy lesson, when she had been wearing a yellow and black one.

“Was last year really so rife with adventure for you?” Anne asked him, double checking the candles on the tree.

“I don’t know if adventure is the right word,” Gilbert laughed. “But it certainly was an experience.”

“How can you be so casual about such an incredible journey?” Anne asked, her red hair gleaming in the candlelight. “You saw so many magical creatures the rest of us could only read about, not to mention whole continents!”

“The magical creatures weren’t as common as Bash made it sound,” Gilbert said modestly. “Wasn’t like there were any dragons that needed slaying.”

He watched her carefully at the last part, wondering if she would recognize the words from their first meeting. Anne froze for a moment, looking at him quickly before turning back to the candles. She didn’t say anything and Gilbert worried that he had messed up again.

“Speaking of magical creatures, how’s your bowtruckle?” Gilbert said, hoping the mention of her secret pet would get her talking again.

The tactic worked. Anne brightened, shooting a quick glance to make sure they were still alone before answering.

“Sir Hollyoak is doing well, his leg is healing rather quickly and Matthew has been smuggling me some wood lice to give him each day. He’s been so well behaved, staying inside my room the whole break. That really is a blessing, I don’t know what Marilla would say if she found out I’d been keeping him.”

“Well, tell him Happy Christmas from me,” Gilbert smiled.

“I will,” Anne replied, and to Gilbert’s surprise she actually smiled back.

Buoyed by this success, Gilbert pulled the package he had been carrying all afternoon.

“I got you something,” he said, holding it out to her, hoping his palms weren’t sweating from the heat.

“Oh,” Anne took the gift, her eyes wide as they flickered down to the present, then back at him in a flustered sort of manner. “But, uh, I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s alright,” Gilbert shrugged. He hadn’t expected anything in return, truly didn’t want anything in return. Gilbert wasn’t the sort to keep track with presents. The book had been so quintessentially Anne that he felt he had no other choice but to get it for her. “Happy Christmas Anne,” he added, quietly.

Anne stared up at him, and Gilbert realized for the first time that he was at least a head taller than her.

“Happy Christmas Gilbert,” Anne whispered back, and something in the air shifted for Gilbert. He and Anne were incredibly close; he could count each of the hundreds of freckles on her face. He felt as if someone had cast a mild tickling charm on his skin, causing it to tingle. His heart felt strangely loud, and he knew that staring like this was impolite, but he couldn’t look away. There had always been something about Anne, but now it was on a whole new level. He felt as if he was being pulled towards her.

I don’t think I mind it.

Anne didn’t look away either, apparently caught in the same compulsion, and Gilbert felt as if time had slowed. His eyes flickered down to her lips, and the tingly feeling grew, warmth flooding his senses-

Anne reeled backwards, breaking eye contact and ending the moment.

“We best be getting back,” Anne said quickly, brushing something off of her robe that Gilbert didn’t see. “I’m sure Marilla needs my help with the dishes.”

“Right, of course,” Gilbert hastily agreed. His brain was still trying to process what had just happened, while his heart felt like it was dancing some kind of jig.

Something had happened, something that felt monumental, but Gilbert didn’t have the space to puzzle it all out here in the middle of the Cuthbert’s parlor. He cast his mind out wildly to something to say that would both distract them and prevent Anne from returning to her usual state of ignoring him.

“So, you, uh, never got the chance to explain what happened with the alchemists,” Gilbert said. “Charlie and the other lads just said they weren’t really alchemists, but they didn’t know all the details.”

“It’s a bit of an adventure itself,” Anne said, and there was an edge to her voice that had Gilbert truly curious about what happened.

“Oh?”

“They had been boarding at Green Gables, all last year, and told everyone that they were alchemists funded by the German Ministry of Magic,” Anne’s usual spirit for story telling and language was absent from her explanation, the first clue that whatever happened was serious. “They spent nearly a year here. About halfway through, they claimed that they had found a way to create pure alchemic gold, and over dozens of family were all rushing to give them financial backing and investments.”

“But it wasn’t true,” Gilbert said, because he had heard this part at least. They were both still in the parlor, sounds of the adults drifting through the doorway.

“No,” Anne shook her head. “They were drifters. Conmen. Diana and I figured it out, with help from – from someone – and snuck out to the Daily Prophet to get proof. When we got back, I told Marilla right away, and Diana told the headmaster.”

“So they were arrested?” Gilbert felt a bit relieved at that. It was hard to imagine such dark events happening at Hogwarts, and more difficult still to picture two conmen living in Green Gables, dining around the table with Anne, Marilla, and Matthew just like Gilbert and Bash had just done.

“Unfortunately no,” Anne said. “They overheard me tell Marilla, and stunned her before she could get help. Then they tied me up and escaped into the woods. The ministry was looking for a while, but they’re still not caught.”  

  “You were tied up?!” Gilbert hadn’t heard much past that part. His heart had started beating loudly again, but this time with worry. He knew it was foolish – Anne was right next to him, clearly alright physically, but the idea of the two men trapping her, stunning Marilla and leaving Anne helpless, possibly hurting her…Gilbert felt his jaw clench and his fists tightened despite himself. He had the wildest impulse to hit something, preferably the drifters.

"Yeah,” Anne’s tone was grim. “Actually, do you remember back when we saw each other in that port town, and Jerry was beat up and cursed? Turns out it was the same men.”

"That’s horrible ,” Gilbert couldn’t imagine what it felt to discover that the two men they had housed had hurt their family twice over.

“Well, it’s in the past now,” Anne sighed forcefully. “I see no sense on dwelling on unpleasant matters, especially on Christmas.” And with that, Anne marched into the dining room, head high and her voice cheery as she offered to help Marilla with the dishes.

Gilbert watched her go, hair swinging around her shoulders, and felt the same rush off emotions he had faced earlier by the tree.

As Bash caught his eye and winked at him, Gilbert couldn’t shake the feeling that something irreversible had occurred for him that Christmas night, and that fate would get it’s comeuppance at him sooner or later.

It’s Christmas, Blythe, Gilbert scolded himself, sliding back into his seat. Just enjoy the holiday cheer.

***

Anne waited until Marilla and Matthew were fast asleep before she crept down to the parlor. The present from Gilbert was where she left it, unopened by the fire.

Her fingers untied the string carefully, and the wrapping fell away as soon as it was loosed.

It was a book – the smallest Anne had ever seen.

The Pocket Book of Spells and Enchantments. She flipped through it eagerly, looking at all the new spells.

The front page had a message on it, written in precise script.

So you can beat me fair and square.

Anne smiled.

***

1896 made its entrance with endless rain. Students began to dread the walk to the greenhouses, which was more mud and puddles than ground by the third day of term, and Professor Catchpole ended up cancelling class for a whole week by mid January, as it was impossible to learn anything in such weather.

“I wish our Quidditch captain had the same outlook,” Jerry muttered as he, Cole and Anne sludged back to the castle after the announcement.

“You still have practice?” Cole asked sympathetically. Jerry nodded miserably. “We don’t even have a match again till March; it’s awful,” Jerry complained. “We spent all of practice yesterday barely three inches off the ground, frozen to our brooms, but Belkly wouldn’t take no for an answer. By the time we finally finished, dinner was over too. I was starving. ”

“Just go to the kitchens next time,” Anne said. “Pippet would gladly give you food and tea.”

Jerry brightened. “Now there’s an idea.”

“Hey, look,” Cole nudged them both, nodding a side alcove in the Entrance Hall. Josie was there, her beautiful curls a wreck from rain and her robes absolutely drenched.

"She must have just come from Herbology,” Jerry said. “Her shoes are covered in mud.” Cole hushed him, but it was too late; his voice carried easily in the stone hall. Josie flushed pink, her lips looking dangerously close to wobbling.

“Wait here,” Anne instructed the boys, and cautiously started to approach the older Gryffindor girl.

Josie looked up as Anne stopped in front of her. Her eyes were rimmed red. “Come to make fun of me?” Josie snipped.

“I came to help,” Anne said. “There’s a drying spell that I always use when I get caught in the rain. It works on clothes and hair.”

Josie hesitated, her hands flying to her ruined curls.

“How do I know you won’t botch it up?” Josie asked. There were traces of her usual sneer but it was rather weak in comparison to her usual veracity. “Not like you come from magic after all. I don’t want to end up ugly and bald like you did.”

  Anne flushed a little. Her hair was long enough to put in braids again, tiny little ones that hardly hit her chin, but the embarrassment of being bald still stung.

“If you don’t want my help, I won’t force it,” Anne told Josie, channeling the dignity she always imagined Elaine or Jane Eyre to possess. “But don’t you ever get tired of fighting Josie? We share a group of friends, and it’s been years. Doesn’t it get exhausting?” Anne started to turn away. She didn’t expect her words to have any affect, but it felt good to say them.

“Wait,” Josie said, her voice small. “Can – can you do the spell?”

For a moment, no longer than a second, Anne considered saying no. Josie was no Billy Andrews, but that didn’t mean Anne hadn’t been dealt her own hand of insults and snide comments from her over the years.

But this was still Josie, Tilly and Ruby and Jane’s friend, and Anne had been truthful when she said she was tired of the the childish fighting.

To Anne’s relief, the spell didn’t backfire at all. Within a minute, Josie’s hair was perfectly curled once again, and her robes as dry as a desert.

“Good as new,” Anne said kindly, smiling shyly.

“I- thanks,” Josie replied, looking very uncertain of herself for once. Anne raised her eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

“I suppose you have a point, Anne,” Josie said primly. “It’s childish to keep fighting, and unladylike. I suppose the mature thing to do would be bury the hatchet.” She stuck a hand out.

Anne felt as if she had just bested a dragon. “I couldn’t agree more, Josie,” Anne nodded. She reached out to grab Josie’s hand, but hesitated right before grabbing it.

“Friends?” Anne asked hopefully.

“Can you teach me that drying spell?” Josie asked. Anne nodded.

“Ugh. Fine,” Josie scoffed, but she took Anne’s hand and shook it. “Friends.”

“Cheers, Josie,” Anne grinned as the blonde rolled her eyes and walked off.

“What was that all about?” Cole asked when she rejoined them.

“I think I just made a new friend,” Anne said merrily, and laughed at the bemused stares they gave her.

***

“Today we begin the noble art of dueling,” Professor Llewellyn announced, and waited for the anticipated excited response to die out before continuing. “Now, dueling is not just blindly throwing curse after curse at an opponent until someone falls down! There is planning involved, strategy! The best duelist is often not just good at magic, but has an active and quick mind,” Llewellyn paused here, casting an eye around his class of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. “I expect to find such minds to mold in the houses of the cunning and the wise,” he added, and the students sat straighter at the compliment.  Anne felt a surge of household pride at Llewellyn’s words, and was determined to do well, especially in front of her head of house.

“Now, there are two parts to dueling, attack and defense,” Llewellyn continued. “Who can give me an example of two such spells?”

Anne’s hand shot into the air, and Llewellyn glanced at her, eyes twinkling, before focusing on a different hand.

“Ah yes, Mr. Blythe.”

“The stunning spell is a classic example of an offensive spell, sir, while the shield charm is the primary defensive spell.”

“Excellent, Mr. Blythe, ten points to Slytherin,” Professor Llewellyn said crisply. “Now, many witches and wizards dismiss the shield charm because of it’s simplicity, but there are some hidden advantages to it. Does anyone-“ Anne’s hand shot into the air once more, and this time Llewellyn didn’t turn away. “Yes, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert?”

“A powerful and well-cast shield charm can take several hits before weakening at all, and a single shield has been recorded to protecting up to 26.5 meters by Morgan Le Fey herself, while multiple shield charms are often cast on buildings for protection. This gives the caster an extra advantage if they are being attacked by a group of people. Additionally, a witch or wizard skilled at casting shield charms can cast other, more offensive spells at their opponent from behind the safety of their shield, while their opponent is unable to cast any direct hit spells at them.”

“Very well explained, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert,” Llewellyn said approvingly. “Ten points for the answer, and an additional five for the insight that the shield charm prevents direct hits only, not spells that have a timed effect or are cast on its surroundings.”

Anne beamed as Diana nudged her in playful congratulation, and behind them Cetus and Musa jeered quietly at the Slytherins.

Anne snuck a quick look to see if Gilbert was at all irritated that she had won this round. To her dissatisfaction, he was smiling at her.

Ugh.

“Now, who knows the answer to my next question,” Llewellyn asked, rapping his desk with his wand for effect. “In dueling, is it better to have an offensive heavy or defensive heavy strategy?”

Once again, Anne and Gilbert’s hands were the first in the air.

“Miss Shirley-Cuthbert?”

“Offensive, sir,” Anne said confidently. “While a shield charm is vitally important, a witch or wizard should rely on offensive heavy spells when dueling, because it allows them to have the upper hand. Defensive spells are more reactionary, limiting how creative you can be by making you only responsive to your opponent.”

“Interesting answer, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert,” Llewellyn said slowly. “Mr. Blythe, do you agree?”

“No, sir,” Gilbert shook his head. “I think defensive is best.” Anne fought the urge to huff, settling for glaring daggers. Of course he would disagree with her. It was always his prerogative, wasn’t it?

“And why do you think that, Mr. Blythe?”

“A defensive strategy allows the dueler to wear his opponent’s energy down, while minimizing the amount of damage he – or she – themselves takes. An offensive attack also means the dueler is more likely to get reckless and stop thinking straight, which could result in self-injury.”

“I hardly think there is an argument for causation between rash behavior and a well thought out offensive strategy,” Anne rebutted fiercely.

“One is intended to do more harm, the other just to protect,” Gilbert argued back, turning in his seat to face her better. “As intelligent and moral creatures who possess incredible abilities, shouldn’t we prioritize the latter over the former?”

“The argument was purely about strategy, not ethical or moral,” Anne reminded him. “In addition, plenty of defensive spells can also cause harm to whoever is on the receiving end of them. What matters most in a duel is who has the most control over the field. The more offensive your attacks are, the more control you have about the outcome.”

"Yet only offensive spells make up the three Unforgiveables,” Gilbert said hotly, and there was a slight shiver in the air. No one liked to mention the Unforgiveable spells; the word was practically taboo. It was hardly pleasant to think about, and most liked to pretend such spells didn’t exist.

“Enough,” Llewellyn interrupted, raising his hand. “Interesting arguments, both of you, but neither answer is correct.”

Anne sat back in her seat, stunned. What? How could they both be incorrect?

“Does anyone have a different answer?” Llewellyn asked. For a minute no one moved, then Cetus cautiously raised his hand.

“It’s a trick question, sir,” Cetus said slowly. “Neither one is better on its own. The best type of duelist uses both strategies equally, depending on how the duel is going.”

“Precisely, ten points to Ravenclaw,” Llewellyn said approvingly. “Take heed of this now, because it applies to more than just dueling. An expert strategist isn’t someone who perfects one style over and over again, but is fluid and fluent in multiple types of strategy. You cannot win anything on either attacks or deflections alone. You must use your heads, study and watch your opponent. Always make sure your own back is protected and you know where to hit them at their weakest. That is how you win a duel.”

“Now, turn to chapter seven and start practicing the incantation for the shield charm-“

***

Jerry was feeling rather happy with himself as he left the Transfiguration classroom. Transfiguration was far from his best subject (he preferred the hands on classes like Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures) and often he relied on Anne or Cole’s help for exams. Today however, he had been one of the first students to successfully conjure orchids from nothing, and additionally had earned Hufflepuff a few house points for answering questions correctly. All in all, it had been a top day in his book.

Antares and Antila both gave him sour looks as they all left the classroom. “Don’t be getting all high and mighty, Bayard, we’re still the best at Transfiguration.”

Jerry blinked at them, a little confused by their hard tone. Neither of them spoke to Jerry often, despite Antares sharing a dorm with Jerry, and he couldn’t think of anything he had done that would upset them.

“Of course,” Jerry agreed. “I’m just happy I got Hufflepuff some points in a class that wasn’t Herbology for once. Bit of a turning point for me, oui?”

Antila just rolled her eyes but Antares scoffed loudly, earning the attention of the rest of the Gryffindors from class and a few others lingering in the corridors.

“Guys, let’s just get to potions-“ Philippa urged. Jerry was starting to feel uneasy with the whole conversation. Forcibly, he remembered his early days in Hufflepuff, before he made the quidditch team, when few of his housemates spoke to him.

“Just remember it was a fluke, alright Jerry?” Antares said firmly.

 “What’s the problem?” Jerry asked, thoroughly confused about why they would be angry with him. “I got the spell and answered the question correctly, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m not going to be shown up in Transfiguration by a mudblood!” Antares snapped, and Jerry stumbled back as if physically punched.

“Hey, Antares, don’t,” Moody said weakly, looking between Jerry and Antares fretfully.

“What did you just say?” Cole demanded, his tone dark and chilling. He had appeared at Jerry’s side instantaneously, glaring at the two Hufflepuffs.

“Stay out of this McKenzie,” Antares told him dismissively. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you insult my friend,” Cole said. “You need to apologize.”

“For what?” Antila spoke up, crossing her arms. “Its not like he said anything that wasn’t true. Jerry’s a muggleborn, it’s no wonder that he usually struggles with basic spells. Muggleborns aren’t as strong at magic as pure of halfbloods.” Moody and Philippa both pulled a face as Antila spoke, as if they disagreed, but neither spoke up.

“That’s not true,” Jerry said. “Muggleborns are just as good as magic as anyone else, and today wasn’t a cheat or a fluke. I did the spell correctly. That’s all,” He could hear his French accent becoming more pronounced, a sure sign that he was upset.

“Muggleborns aren’t”- Antares started to argue but Cole pulled out his wand, pointing it at him threateningly.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Cole warned harshly. “You still owe Jerry an apology.”

“Like hell I do,” Antares snorted.

“Antares, stop, ” Moody pleaded. “You shouldn’t have said that – that word.”

“It’s not a lie though is it?” Antares asked the group, gesturing at Jerry. “He is a muggleborn. And not even an English one,” he sneered. “He can barely speak English half the time. He’s just one of probably a dozen kids by two poor as dirt French immigrants. ”

“Don’t talk about my family like that,” Jerry snapped angrily. “I don’t know what your problem is Antares, but I’m not going to be a part of it. I did a spell before you. Let it go and move on.”

“Or what, you’ll hex me?”

“I’m not going to hex you,” Jerry said wearily. “You’re not worth the trouble.” He turned calmly and walked away, getting to potions early.

He took a seat at a table in the front right of the room, far away from where the Hufflepuffs usually sat. He was in no mood to deal with any of them right now, not that Slytherins were much better about his muggle background.

“Oh, Jerry,” Gilbert Blythe greeted with surprise, dropping his bag down at the table. “Sorry, I’m just surprised to see anyone else at this table, normally I’m alone.”

“I  can move-“ Jerry offered weakly, even though he really didn’t fancy the idea.

“No, don’t, it will be nice to have some company in potions for once,” Gilbert smiled. “We don’t get the chance to speak often, do we?”

“Non,” Jerry shrugged. “But to be fair, you’ve only been in my year for a term.”

“That’s true,” Gilbert chuckled. “Guess we’re getting that chance now. How’s quidditch going? Your next match is against Ravenclaw, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, they beat us last year in the final so we’re keen to win,” Jerry said, grateful for the distraction. He was always happy to talk about Quidditch, and Gilbert proved to be a willing audience, asking for more details about the match last year, and what teams Jerry supported in the UK league. Gilbert himself was apparently a Wasps fan, but approved of Jerry’s choice in the Magpies.

“How did you end up supporting a Scottish team?”

“Marilla and Matthew – I mean, Madam Cuthbert and Mister Cuthbert,” Jerry hastily corrected, remembering they were at school and Gilbert wasn’t in their normal group of friends. “They always supported the Magpies, being from Scotland and all. There aren’t any teams from the area where I grew up anyway. Though I almost picked the Chudley Cannons.”

“The Cannons? ” Gilbert repeated, horrified. “ Why ?”

Jerry grinned. “Their colors were orange. Anne hated them on sight.”

***

Word of what happened earlier must have gotten around, since Diana and Anne sought him out before supper and dragged him to the kitchens instead without any offered explanation. Jerry suspected that Ruby or Cole responsible for that. It evidently reached the staff as well, as Jerry got an owl the very next morning from Matthew, inviting him and Anne to join him on Saturday for his forest rounds, and tea with Marilla later.

Matthew let Jerry play with the baby hippogriffs, and over tea Anne finally let slip about her pet bowtruckle, to Marilla’s horror, so Jerry was in high spirits once again at the end.

“I’m proud of you,” Marilla told him as she escorted him and Anne back to the castle. “You never should have had to be in that situation, but you handled it maturely instead of letting it become a hex battle.”

“Thanks Marilla,” Jerry knew the sincerity behind those words, and treasured them all the more for that.

***

“Hey Ruby, can I borrow a quill?” Cole asked in Ancient Runes.

“Sure,” Ruby said happily, passing him a spare one from her bag.

Cole didn’t take it.

“Ruby. That quill is bright pink.”

“I know, isn’t it great!” Ruby said happily. “One of my sisters charmed all of my spare quills to be pink for Christmas, to match my aura.”

Cole seriously wondered how Ruby had been using pink quills for two months and he hadn’t even noticed.

Oh well. A quill was a quill. He took the proffered pink instrument, ignoring Anne’s snickering beside him. 

Diana had never been overly interested by the Hogsmeade visits. Having grown up in the village, everything was already well known to her, from Madam Jeannie’s dress shop to the tea shop that Rachel Lynde ran (the center of all gossip in the town). It was difficult to muster enthusiasm for what was for her just a day spent in her childhood neighborhood. Add in the dreaded prospect that her mother and sister took advantage of these trips to catch Diana off guard, and Diana found herself often choosing to stay at the castle whilst her classmates poured through the village gates.

But even Diana was excited to visit Hogsmeade this time. The whole of January and the first few weeks of February had plagued Hogwarts with the worst type of weather, unending rain and hail accompanied by bitter winds that infiltrated every part of the castle. Weeks of being cooped up inside had been driving all of the students on edge, and even the staff were showing signs of snapping. Finally, this past week, the skies had cleared to a wondrous blue, and the Hogsmeade trip became the talk of the castle.  As Saturday morning dawned to sunny skies, the students emptied out of the castle quicker then you could say quidditch, reveling in the jealousy of the first and second years.

There was far more giggling among their classmates as they all trooped down to the village, breaking into smaller groups. It was Valentine’s day the next day, and several of the fourth and fifth years were taking advantage of the unsupervised trip to pair up. Too young to be official courting, most of the groups were carefully pruned down to pairs of two or three, just large enough that they could avoid any scandal of being alone with another student unsupervised. For once, their own mixed little friend group blended right in with the others. If you looked closely though, as Diana did, she noticed most of the other groups were either giggling or staring at the ground more than they were actually talking to each other. Contrasted with them, where Cole and Diana were trying to convince Ruby that divination wasn’t real, and Jerry and Anne were kicking snow at each other, you could easily see which group was happier.

“Poor Jane,” Anne giggled from beside Diana as they watched their friend get dragged along with Josie to join Billy and his friends. “She’s going to be miserable the whole trip.”

“I think it’s romantic,” Ruby sighed dreamily. “Josie has been so excited, and at least her crush returns her affections.”

“I don’t think you can count Billy and romantic in the same sentence,” Cole wrinkled his nose as he glanced at the pair. “I don’t think he even knows what the word means.”

“Well, it finally just us,” Anne clapped her hands together as they reached the village entrance. “Whose ready for an adventure?”

"We’re all going to die,” Ruby said dramatically, and Diana laughed as she put her arm around the Gryffindor girl.

“Don’t be so melodramatic Ruby. It’s all just rumors after all,” Cole said.

“Or it’s infested with ghouls and hags and all sorts of terrible creatures!” Jerry grinned wickedly. Ruby paled.

“I changed my mind! I don’t want to go!”

“He’s joking, Ruby,” Anne said. “The worst we’ll see is probably some ghosts.”

“Ghosts?!” Ruby yelped, looking panicked.

“Ruby, there are ghosts at the castle,” Cole reminded her. “You went to a deathday party two years ago.”

“Oh. Right,” Ruby took a deep breath. “Ok. I can do this.”

"Allonsy!” Jerry shouted, racing ahead. “Last one there’s a rotten toadstool!”

Shrieking with laughter, the five of them ran through the streets of Hogsmeade, Jerry and Cole easily taking the lead with their long legs.

"There is is,” Diana said breathlessly when they arrived, gazing upwards. “The Montgomery Manor. Abandoned for decades. Aunt Jo said it’s haunted by the Montgomery family.”

"Again, we live in a haunted castle,” Jerry pointed out. “Not that scary.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Anne looked at them all, grinning. “Let’s go!”

Anne took the first step, the snow breaking noiselessly under her boots as she walked. The rest of them followed cautiously, glancing around as if half expecting something to jump out of the overgrown garden weeds and attack them.

“This is eerie,” Cole muttered, and Jerry hushed him.

Something cracked behind them and they all jumped, whirling around.

“Did you hear that?” Ruby whimpered.

“Just a bird, or a dog,” Anne whispered. “I’m sure-“

 " What are you doing?” A new voice asked from behind them, and they all screamed.

Cole, Diana and Anne already their wands out as the whole group whipped around, Ruby and Jerry half stumbling into the thicket of weeds, ready to attack.

A bemused Gilbert Blythe stared at them.

“Gilbert!” Ruby yelped.

“Apologies for scaring you,” Gilbert said, glancing at each of them.

“We weren’t scared,” Anne retorted immediately. “Just- taken aback. You shouldn’t sneak up on people, it’s rude.”

“I was just walking,” Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “I would hardly call it sneaking up on you. I was just surprised, I thought I would be the only one here.”

“Why are you here?” Cole asked. “We figured everyone would be at the teashop.”

“I was checking on the house Bash and I bought,” Gilbert explained. “It’s about a half mile down that path,” he pointed his finger back along the woods. “What are you doing?”

“Anne and Jerry convinced us all we should sneak inside the Montgomery Manor,” Diana told him. Ruby was still too flustered to speak, Anne was staring very intensely at a tree in the opposite direction of Gilbert, and the boys never knew how to act around Gilbert when Ruby and Anne were both there.

“Sounds like an adventure,” Gilbert smiled.

“That’s just what Anne said!” Ruby said excitedly. Diana hid a smirk as Anne shot Ruby an exasperated look.

“How curious,” Cole commented mildly. “Would you like to join us Gilbert?”

Since when does Cole invite Gilbert to join us, Diana wondered. Ruby always tried, of course, and apparently Jerry and Gilbert were potion partners now, but Cole had rarely interacted with the Slytherin boy. Cole is up to something. I just don’t know what.

Gilbert agreed, to Ruby’s delight. Anne rather harshly gestured for them to all be quiet again and they resumed their approach.

Diana shivered as they crept closer. The air seemed colder than it had been just moments previously, and her breath was coming out in visible puffs. The ancient wooden steps were damp from ice and snow, but still creaked under their boots as they squeezed onto the porch.

“Do we knock?” Jerry whispered as they all stared at the door, it’s black paint peeling.

“Nobody lives here, Jerry,” Anne whispered back. “Someone just needs to open the door.”

“Oh. Right.”

Nobody moved for a moment. It was like they were all on the precipice of a cliff, hesitating before taking the plunge.

Anne took a steady breath, slowly reaching out her arm to push the door open, but Cole beat her to it, suddenly hitting the door wildly. It banged open, causing a gust of wind to rush over the group.

They all stared at Cole.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I got tired of waiting.”

"Come on,” Anne said, sounding far braver than Diana felt. “Let’s go inside.”

The hallways was cramped and several of the floorboards were missing. They were forced to go in a single file line, Anne at the front with Cole bringing up the rear. It was almost too dark to see, and only the low light of Anne’s muggle lantern and Ruby’s hand clutched in Diana’s reassured her that the others were still there.

“Does anyone feel like they’re being watched?” Anne hissed. The hair on Diana’s neck stood up

"Well now I do,” Cole muttered. Ruby whimpered.

“Could it be vampires? Are vampires real?” Jerry’s voice was shaking slightly.

“Yes,” Gilbert and Anne answered at the same time. It was a normal occurrence in the classroom, but surrounded by darkness and the smell of decay, their overlapping voices sounded creepy.

“But you won’t find them in these parts,” Gilbert continued. “Besides, they don’t usually eat people,”

“ Usually? ” Ruby hissed.

“Shhhh,” Anne said from up front. “Do you hear that?”

They all fell silent, straining to listen. For a moment, Diana though Anne’s imagination was over-reacting again, and then she heard it.

A low moan, and the shuffle of something heavy, coming from beneath.

“It’s coming from above us,” Cole said.

“No, its below,” Diana corrected.

“Above!”

“Quiet!” Gilbert said. “Listen!”

They obeyed, no one daring to even move a muscle. Ruby was gripping her hand so tightly that Diana could hardly feel it. At somepoint, her other hand had grabbed onto Jerry’s in front of her, everyone linked together like a life line.

The groaning continued, but Diana’s heart was thudding so loudly in her chest she could barely hear it.

“It’s coming from all around us ,” Jerry is the one to realize it.

“It’s the walls!” Anne gasped, and they all sprang back, crashing into each other as they clustered together in the tiny hallway.

“We’re going to die, we’re going to die, we’re going to die-” Ruby was practically sobbing, and Diana was torn between getting her wand out and fear that if she let go of Jerry or Ruby they would disappear.

“The groan-“ Anne said. “I think- I think it’s saying something-“

“ Whoooooooo enteeeerrrrsssss heeeerrreee” A ghastly voice wailed, and Diana’s skin crawled. “ Whoooo distuuuuurbs meeeeeee?”

“Go, go, go,” Anne urged quietly, as they all began shuffling backwards.

The window shutters all flew closed.

“What was that?” Diana demanded.

“Keep going, forget it,” Cole urged, tugging them all backwards.

A freezing breeze rippled through the hallway, and Anne’s lantern blew out. They were plunged into darkness.

Ruby screamed.

“IAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEE” the ghastly voice screeched, and Diana’s blood froze in terror.

“RUN!” Anne yelled and Cole yanked them all back. They all rushed back down the hallway, tripping over themselves.

“Open the door!!” Ruby shrieked.

“I can’t see it!” Cole shouted back.

“AAAAIIIIIIIIII!!!” The creature continued to scream, and they all yelled in terror, speeding up.

“Move!” Anne shouted from somewhere in the darkness. “I don’t want to hit anyone!”

“Anne, wa-“

“Anne!“

Gilbert and Diana both spoke up at once, but Anne was already screaming the unlocking spell. Mere feet ahead of them, the door blasted off of it’s hinges, grey wintery sunlight filtering in.

Diana put on a surge of speed, dragging Ruby alongside her. Ruby was still screaming, but Diana felt as if her voice had been snatched away, hardly breathing as they all ran, the wailing still ringing in their ears.

They didn’t stop until the gates were long behind them, finally collapsing in a messy heap outside a Hogsmeade shop, hearts still pounding.

“We are never going back there again!” Ruby cried, as they gasped for breath.

“I think I’m going to have nightmares for a month,” Jerry groaned. “What if it follows us?”

“It’s- it’s a ghast,” Anne struggled for breath. “They can’t- can’t leave their-“ Anne waved at someone else to finish her sentence, leaning against the wall.

“They can’t leave the place where they formed,” Gilbert said. “They’re stuck there.”

“Oh thank Merlin,” Cole gasped. “I think my heart stopped working.”

“Anne? Jerry?”

Madam Cuthbert and Mrs Lynde had just exited the tea shop, and were looking down at their group in shock. All of them were pale and shaky, Anne’s tiny braids completely undone and Diana’s hair bow askew. Cole was missing his hat, Diana realized, and Ruby was still crying.

“We are so in trouble,” Jerry sighed.  

***

Three weeks before Anne’s 15 th birthday, Professor Irving announced that he was retiring, effective immediately, for personal leave. He didn’t expand on any of the details to the students, but the story got out eventually: his brother and sister-in-law had both succumbed to the wizarding plague, and he had to go take care of them.

“Poor Professor Irving,” Anne said as the Ravenclaw fourth years were finishing up their charms essays that night. “It’s tiring, taking care of sick people, but I imagine it must be even more dreadful when it’s your own family.”

"My da says that there’s been more cases this year at St Mungo’s than there’s been in a while,” Cetus said solemnly. “They’re worried that there’s going to be another outbreak; apparently this is just how it started fifteen years ago.”

“But that plague lasted nearly seven years,” Diana looked at him. “They don’t think its going to be like that again, do they?”

“Can the wizarding world even afford that?” Jane asked the group. “I mean, nearly a third of the population got the disease, and most of the cases were fatal.”

“I remember when my neighbor’s kid got it,” Musa said quietly. “She was the first person I actually new had it, and three other kids caught it before they shut down our neighborhood school.”

“That’s awful,” Anne whispered. She never really knew what to do when the other kids talked about the plague. They were all old enough to remember the last few years of it, but the plague had been mostly gone for years before Anne had joined the wizarding world. She didn’t share the memories the others did.

The memories hung heavily over them all, and Anne was almost relieved when Prissy scolded them all for talking about such matters and scaring the first and second year students. Firmly chastened, their attention returned to their homework.

By the weeks end, the school was too preoccupied with a new source of gossip to worry over the possibility of a returning plague. On Friday morning, the new charms professor was seated at the high table, and drew everyone’s attention when she knocked over the stack of toast all over the floor, and leapt up to fix the mess.

“She’s wearing pants, ” Jane said in shock.

“Oh my goodness,” Anne whispered, unable to take her eyes away.

A female professor for charms. Hogwarts hardly had any female professors, and here was one that not only taught a core subject, but was wearing trousers.

The whispers only grew by the time the fourth year Ravenclaws had their first charms lesson.

“I heard she doesn’t wear a corset!” Tilly said, and Anne seized Diana’s hand in excitement.

“I don’t know what Twycross is thinking this year,” One of the Gryffindor boys shook his head. “Hiring a female who doesn’t dress properly, and after he let that muggle studies fiasco with-“ he trailed off as he noticed Anne and Diana glaring at him, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind what he had been about to say.  

The classroom door opened just as the bell rang, and the students filed inside. Anne felt as if she might burst from curiosity.

Inside, all the desks had been pushed to the side, and some type of magical diagram was written across the board. Professor Stacy stood in the middle, hands resting on her hips.

“Welcome to charms,” Professor Stacy grinned at them. “Or, rather, welcome to me, since you all have been coming here for several years now.” A few awkward chuckles broke out at the attempted joke. Professor Stacy went on, unruffled. “Now, go ahead and stand in a large circle, we don’t need the desks today.”

“But what will we write on?” Ruby asked her.

“No reading or writing today,” Professor Stacy said briskly. “Today’s lesson is more of a practical type. No, no wands-“ She added as they all began to reach inside their bags. “We won’t need them.”

"Then what are we doing?” Tilly stared. “How are we going to do magic without our wands?”

:Witches and wizards perform magic for years before they get their wands,” Professor Stacy said. “You have all been learning for years how to focus your magic through spells and wandwork. But to become a master at magic, one should be able to understand how the magical energy itself works. Knowing that, your own magical ability will increase ten fold.”

Professor Stacy paused, surveying the students in front of her. The faces staring back ranged from skepticism, to confusion, interest, and excitement.

She grinned at them. “Now, who wants to try first?”

  ***

It had been a complete accident that had lead to Cole and Anne discovering the room. It was late, nearly curfew, when they had been walking back from the library, and the sound of Billy Andrews’ distinct guffaw ahead of them had caused them both to duck into an abandoned classroom.

Cole was keeping an eye on the corridor through a small crack in the door.

“Alright, I think it’s safe,” he said in a low voice. “We should go before someone catches us out after curfew-Anne?”

Anne wasn’t behind him, as he had expected, but across the room, staring entranced at a full length mirror.

“Anne?” Cole repeated, coming to stand beside her. “What’s wrong?”

“Cole, there’s something strange about this mirror,” Anne said. “It keeps showing other people in the room. Look.”

Cole did so, but all he could see were their reflections.

“Anne, are you sure you aren’t imagining things again?” Cole asked her. “We did spend a long time in the library, maybe you’re tired.”

“I know I saw it,” Anne said, puzzled. “Here, switch places with me, stand where I did.”

Cole let himself be maneuvered in front of the mirror, Anne stepping back.

“Now look,” Anne instructed. Cole did so, ready to see his own reflection staring back at him.

What he saw instead felt like he had taken another bludger to the arm.

“Cole? Cole what do you see?” Anne’s voice sounded far away.

“It’s me,” Cole said faintly. “I mean, sort of. I’m standing someplace else though, in a gallery, and there’s all this art around me- Anne, I think it’s my art.”

"What?” Anne blinked. “There aren’t other people there?”

“I don’t see any- wait,” Cole peered closer. “There’s something blurry in the background, I think it’s turning into people.”

“You see!” Anne said triumphantly. “It’s a man, right, with a beard and a tall woman-“

“No,” Cole shook his head. “Anne- Anne it’s my family. They’re all there, and they’re smiling and laughing.”

Cole’s chest felt tight as he watched the scene in the mirror. When was the last time he had seen his mother and father laughing with him like that, or his little siblings play with him so happily. His mother wrapped his mirror self in a warm hug, while his father patted his shoulder, beaming with pride.

“We’re all so happy,” Cole whispered. “They’re proud of me, all of me-“

“Oh Cole,” Anne said, her voice breaking. She stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. The picture in the mirror wavered, then vanished, replaced with just the two of them. 

“Do you think this mirror – does it show us the future?” Cole asked Anne. “I – I think I looked older.”

"I don’t know,” Anne admitted. “I looked the exact same, and I didn’t know the people with me at all. Yet-“ Anne trailed off,  looking at the mirror longingly.

“Anne?” Cole asked gently. He had seen that far-off look in Anne’s eyes before, usually when something happened too loudly or too suddenly. Anne had never said anything, but Cole and Diana had figured it had something to do with Anne’s life before the Cuthberts and Hogwarts.

“It felt like I was supposed to know them,” Anne whispered, and Cole feels a chill go down his spine.

“I don’t think we should look at the mirror anymore,” Cole said, stepping back and dragging Anne by the hand. “I heard tales about this sort of stuff in childrens’ stories growing up, mysterious objects that bewitch you with curiosity.”

“Why did we see different thing?” Anne frowned, trying to puzzle it out. “I saw complete strangers, but you saw your family.”

“They might have well have been strangers,” Cole said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “They’ve never been that happy with me. And if they ever learned that I liked – that I was like-” Cole fumbled, still struggling to say the words out loud.

Anne squeezed his hand tightly. “Remember what I told you last year,” Anne said fiercely. “No matter what, you’re my family too. Mine and Diana’s and Jerry’s and Ruby’s. That won’t ever change.”

Cole could live for a hundred years, and still never find the words to describe how thankful he was for Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.

“Come on,” he said, turning away from the mirror. “We should go before we are caught out after curfew.”

“Forget that,” Anne scoffed. “We’re so close to the kitchens, let’s get some biscuits and tea to forget all this mess. Pippet will just help us pop back into our common rooms afterwards.”

Cole laughed. “Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”

***

“Hey Ruby, can I borrow a-“

“I don’t have any other quills today Cole, sorry.” 

Cole sighed, then turned to his other side.

“Jerry, can I borrow a quill?”

Jerry winced. “I was about to ask you for one. I lost mine.”

“Ahem,” Professor Phillips cleared his throat pointedly. “Everyone take a quill out please, and be quick about. I have no use for dawdlers.“

Jerry and Cole stared at each other, then their empty hands.

“I don’t suppose you can conjure one?” 

“We are in such trouble,” Cole sighed.

***

Charms club met much less frequently as Prissy Andrews and the other seventh years became all consumed by the looming NEWTS. Gilbert had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, it gave him more time to focus on his other subjects like potions or herbology, which would more important for his future as a healer.

On the other hand, it meant he had charms club less. Which meant less chances to try and talk to Anne.

“Good job today,” Gilbert complimented her as Prissy dismissed them, rushing to pack up his things before Anne could once again leave before him. “You hardly even needed instruction before mastering the spell.”

"And you were surprised by that?” Anne rounded on him. “Just because you’re the best at charms in Slytherin doesn’t mean you’re the best in your year anymore.”

“Anne,” Gilbert sighed. Two steps forward and one step back with her, it always was the way. He had hoped that after Christmas dinner they were on the path to friendship, or at least friendly rivals, and then moments like this would happen. “I didn’t say anything about being surprised. I was trying to pay you a compliment.”

“Oh.” Anne was the one to look surprised by that, as if she had never even considered that Gilbert’s words could be genuine. The thought stung Gilbert. All this time, and she still acted as if he were no different from Billy Andrews.

“I usually am, you know,” Gilbert continued lightly “Or at the very least, trying to be polite and friendly. You’d realize that if you ever actually let me finish a sentence before running off.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

“I would take that apology more seriously if you hadn’t put the word feelings in air quotes,” Gilbert shook his head, swinging the classroom door open. Ever the gentleman, he gestured for her to go first. He felt his hopes rise a little when she did so without argument. Perhaps, finally, they were about to have a civil conversation again, just the two of them, like they had at Christmas.

His hopes were dashed the moment they entered the corridor to see Jerry Baynard waiting for Anne.

“Anne!”

"Jerry!” Anne greeted him with enthusiasm, her whole demeanor flipping like a coin. “What are you doing here?”

“History of magic essay,” Jerry smiled innocently. “I was hoping you could help me get it started?”

“Get it started? Jerry, it was assigned last week!” Anne scolded him. “It’s due in tomorrow’s class!”

“Is that a yes?” Jerry asked, grinning down in amusement.

Apparently I’m not the only one who finds Anne’s temper humorous. Gilbert didn’t know how he felt about that.

“Honestly, I don’t even know why I put up with you,” Anne sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

“A hopeless case that you’re going to help write an essay,” Jerry said smugly. Then, to Gilbert’s shock, he reached out and playfully tugged on one of Anne’s braids, finally back to their normal length.

Gilbert winced, waiting for the screaming or hex that was undoubtable in Jerry’s future.

To his surprise, Anne laughed.

Gilbert was rooted to the spot. Jerry Baynard had pulled her hair – and all Anne had done was giggle. Not hex him, or shout, or slap a book across his face and ignore him for months. Jerry Baynard, a Hufflepuff with middling grades and Anne always called annoying, was allowed to tug on Anne’s bright red hair. He could tease her and make her laugh.

Gilbert felt as if he had been hit by a bludger. In that moment, his own budding friendship with Jerry was forgotten. He would have agreed to anything to switch places with the Hufflepuff boy, who so casually held Anne’s attention and favor. 

It hit Gilbert like a round of lightning, the thing he had been so desperately trying to avoid thinking since Christmas. He watched only half-aware as Anne and Jerry race each other to the library, those tell-tale braids streaming like ribbons behind her.

Bash was right.

Gilbert liked Anne.

  ***

Charms had always been one of Anne’s favorite classes, but under Professor Stacy’s tutelage, it quickly rose to the top of the list.

"She views magic like no other witch or wizard I’ve met!” Anne sighed as she and the other girls were clustered around the Lake of Shining Waters. Anne had been teaching them all how to make flower crowns, and they found it was the perfect activity to keep their hands busy while chatting.

“Her explanations always confuse me,” Tilly said, laying her cloak down as a blanket to lie on. “The magic in potions and herbology make sense; its all about reactions of magical properties. But whenever she goes on about the magical energy inside us, I’m lost!”

“It is very different from how we’ve always been taught,” Diana said. “I wonder if it’s easier for the first years, since they hardly know any other way.”

“They’re first years, what do they know,” Josie rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I just hope she doesn’t forget to teach us proper spells in between all of this inner magic nonsense. Some of us have our OWL examinations this year.” Josie tossed her long blonde curls bac over her shoulder, oblivious to the other’s shared look of exasperation. Josie had been reminding them that she was sitting for her OWL exams that spring at least thrice a week since the Christmas holidays had ended. Jane warned that it would only get worse as they grew closer.

“Mother’s been asking all sorts of questions about her,” Jane said. “Keeps asking if we’re on track with the curriculum, and have I learned this spell or not yet. She seemed very confused when I told her she got rid of the desks.”

“Do you think your father asked for the information?” Diana frowned. “He’s on the Board of Education isn’t he?”

“Something like that,” Jane waved a bored hand. “He would just ask Billy though, he only asks Prissy or I about the Hogsmeade trips or Nimue.”

“Why would the Board of Education care anyway?” Ruby threaded a daisy through the chain of red, pink and white flowers. “They’ve always just let Professor Twycross do what he wants.”

“Or maybe they just never disagreed with him before,” Diana argued.

“What does it matter?” Anne spoke up. She had practice preventing Diana and Ruby’s disagreements by now; whilst close friends, Ruby’s romantical and emotional nature often clashed with Diana’s more practical one. “Professor Stacy is teaching us to become better witches and wizards; they can’t have a problem with her,” Anne glanced around at the circle of girls. “Oh, Jane, no, you have to go under then over, your crown is going to fall apart-“

Contrary to Anne’s belief, something in Jane’s letters must have caused some sort of concern. A group of dour looking witches and wizards were clustered in the corner of the charms classroom that Friday morning as the students entered.

“I’ve seen some of them at Father’s business meetings,” Diana whispered to Anne. “The man in the back, with the quill, I know he’s on the education board. And I think one of the women is Moody’s mother; his dad is on the board too.”

“Why are they here?” Anne said, giving the group a troubled glance. Their presence was making her feel uneasy.

"Routine inspection?” Diana suggested. “Maybe they do it for all the new professors.”

Even Diana didn’t look convinced by that idea though, and Anne only felt her nerves grow.

If Professor Stacy was bothered at all by their presence in the classroom, however, she didn’t show it. She welcomed the class with her usual high spirits, inviting them to gather around the table.

“Now, we’re revisiting some of the spells you learned in your previous years, such as the fire making spell or the freezing spell. These spells have to do with temperature, affecting the air or the target object by changing its physical form- what the muggles call chemistry.” Professor Stacy paused, waiting to see if there were any questions.

Musa looked intrigued at the mention of chemistry, but a warning nudge from Cetus and a glance at the board members prodded him into staying quiet.

“The magical energy we possess has a temperature of it’s own,” Professor Stacy continued, pulling out several black wax candles. “At our will, that temperature can change from freezing cold to boiling heat in seconds, resulting in anything from dryer clothes to conjured elements,” Professor Stacy passed a hand over the candles, and the wicks flickered to life, bright flames dancing as the students murmured in appreciation. “Remember, the spells we learn are just ways to focus and control what our magic does. By understanding why it happens-“

“We improve how the magic happens,” the whole class chorused. It was one of Professor Stacy’s most common sayings.

“Precisely,” Professor Stacy said proudly. “You’re learning. Now, when you draw upon your magic to cast the spell, try to feel its temperature. With practice, you can start changing it at will even as you give the incantation. The results, I have found, are quite satisfactory.” Professor Stacy glanced around the classroom. “We’ll need more candles-  hold on, let me go fetch some from the office, nobody take their wands out yet,” she said sternly, stepping halfway through her office door.

“I’ve never seen a black candle so close before,” Cole’s roommate Borhs said, leaning closer. “My grandmum was always superstitious, said that black wax candles only burned you if you had done dark magic,” Borhs chuckled, waggling his eyebrows at his classmates. “Anyone want to try-?”

“Borhs no!” Anne, Diana and Musa all shouted a warning at once, but it was too late. Borhs finger had gone too close to the magical flame, and the candle, sensing the magical presence, spluttered, sending sparks flying everywhere in a miniature explosion.

Bohrs howled as he staggered backward, his hand clutching his eye. Parts of his robes and hair were smoking.

"Bohrs, Bohrs, are you alright?” Cole and Maxian were both calling, trying to help. Ruby had gone so pale Anne feared she would faint, as Tilly did her best to stamp out the sparks on the floor.

"What happened?” Professor Stacy asked, reappearing from the office as soon as she had heard the shouts.

“He got to close to the candles, he didn’t realise they were sensitive to magic!” Anne hastened to explain. “He got caught in the face by the embers, Professor, I think they may have gotten his eye!”

“Right, class dismissed,” Professor Stacy said hastily. “Cole, Maxian, help me escort Borhs to the hospital wing. The rest of you, go to lunch early.”

None of them moved as she hurried the three Gryffindor boys out of the room, Borhs still whimpering as he limped between Maxian and Professor Stacy.

"That could have gone better,” Diana whispered to Anne, inclining her head toward the board members.

“What do you think they’re going to do?” Anne said, her hands starting to feel clammy on Professor Stacy’s behalf.

“I don’t know Anne,” Diana admitted. “But I don’t think it will be good.”

***

The story club (sans Ruby) was attempting to have it’s weekly meeting, but Anne was apparently more in the mood to rant than actually write.

“And he’s infuriating, always trying to show me up in class or bothering me in charms club,” Anne grumbled, stabbing at the parchment with her quill. “I don’t know why he can’t just leave me in peace.”

“To be fair, you were the one who decided you were academic rivals,” Diana pointed out. She may not approve of Gilbert Blythe’s methods, but she did feel a little sorry for the boy. The very least she could do is defend him to Anne in private.

“Diana!” Anne looked slightly betrayed by this reminder. “I only did that to prove I was just as good as him. All the professors kept comparing us anyway. I wasn’t trying to be friends .” I would never do that to Ruby, was left unsaid but both girls knew it was there all the same.

Diana wondered how long that edict would last. Surely soon it would become obvious to everyone with eyes that, regardless of who called dibs, Gilbert Blythe’s interest was not in Ruby Gillis.

Anne’s rant continued, picking up in speed and vitriol. The question of why Gilbert Blythe never left her alone recurred more than once, and Cole and Diana exchanged wary, knowing glances.

“You know, don’t you? I’m not the only one who’s seen it, right?” Cole whispered, crouching next to Diana.

“I don’t know how everyone else is missing it ,” Diana muttered. “If it wasn’t obvious before he left, it’s obvious now.”

Cole nodded vigorously. “I wasn’t friends with Anne then, but he hasn’t exactly been subtle about it this year,” Cole shook his head. “Do you think he has a chance?” Cole asked her, and Diana hesitated.

In truth, it was hard to say. Part of her, the romantic, dreamy side, thought the two could make a good match. They were both smart, kind, and had seen more of the world then the rest of them.

But the only thing Diana knew for sure about love was that it didn’t make sense most of the time, compatibility be damned, and she knew Anne better than anyone. Anne wore her heart on her sleeve, and she had seen how Anne acted with a crush before. It was not the same way she treated Gilbert Blythe.

“He should focus on getting her to talk to him without arguing first,” Diana said at last. “If he ever manages that, then we’ll see.”

***

Jerry and Anne both stayed at Green Gables again for the Easter Holidays, even though several other fourth years were staying at the castle for once.

“I need a break,” Jerry had declared as they levitated their trunks through the forest. “I bet Matthew needs help with the barn too, makes more sense to just stay here.”

“And it has absolutely nothing to do with Marilla’s plum puffs,” Anne had smirked. Jerry’s response was to start bursting out in French songs, which Diana joined in to Anne’s dismay.

Marilla and Matthew had been thrilled to have their two charges home again (even if only one was officially theirs). Matthew taught them both how to play marbles, while Marilla showed her affection in her own brusque way.

“Josie and Anne are friends now,” Jerry informed Matthew at dinner one night, his face screwed up in disgust. “It’s so weird and unnatural. Josie isn’t even nice.” Anne just stuck her tongue out at him; her reconciliation with Josie had come up more than once.

“Do I need to be having words with anyone’s mothers?” Marilla frowned, looking between the two teenagers. “Usually it’s that Andrews boy that your group is having trouble with, is that still going on?”

Jerry and Anne glanced at each other swiftly, a silent decision made just by eye contact.

“No,” they both chorused. Marilla looked at the two suspiciously, but didn’t say anything else.

Truthfully, Billy Andrews had been as unpleasant as ever, egged on by Prissy’s distraction with NEWTS, but Jerry and Anne knew what the repercussions of involving an adult in school matters would be.

“There’s a surprise waiting for you in the parlor,” Matthew said, to change the subject. “You can see it, if you finished your supper.”

Delighted twin smiles broke out over their faces. Anne started to stand up immediately.

“ After your supper, Anne!” Marilla said sharply. Anne tore off a hunk of her roll, stuffing it in her face. Across from her, Jerry hastily spooned the rest of the soup into his mouth.

“All done!” Anne cried.

“Thank you Marilla, it was delicious!” Jerry added, jumping to his feet and cutting Anne off as he skidded into the parlor. Marilla and Matthew paused, listening.

They weren’t waiting for long. Gasps of delight sounded from the other room as the two found the muggle book Matthew had left for them. Some new horror fiction, Marilla had been told, called Frankenstein.

"You spoil them,” Marilla shook her head at her brother, then turned away so no one could see the warm smile on her face.

***

It was two nights before the holidays were over when the Cuthbert’s fireplace roared to life, causing Matthew and Jerry both to spill their tea.

The flames were green, meaning someone was using their floo network. From the surprised looks on Marilla and Matthew’s faces, Anne knew they weren’t expecting anyone.

She picked up the fire poker.

The flames spun faster, the hazy outline of a person emerging through them. Then, just as suddenly as they began, they were gone. The person stumbled more than stepped out of the fireplace, covered in ash and tears and face pinched with worry and anger.

It was Cole McKenzie. He stared at the Cuthberts with glassy eyes, swaying. His school trunk was next to him, scorched from the floo flames.

“Cole?” Anne said, alarmed by their friend’s state. She dropped the poker stick as Jerry threw his arm around Cole in support, ushering him to the couch. Anne knelt next to them, heart and mind pounding with questions. She had never seen Cole this distraught before, not even last year after he fought Billy.

“Matthew, get some more tea, something strong,” Marilla instructed.

“Right, right,” Matthew hastened to the kitchen. Marilla placed a quilt around Cole’s shaking shoulders but stepped back. Anne was grateful for it, the last thing Cole needed was people crowding him.

“Cole? What happened?” Anne asked gently. Cole looked at her and Anne saw fresh tears forming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I couldn’t think of where else to go-“ Cole stammered. “It all just happened so fast, I had to get out of there-“

“Out of where, Cole?” Anne said, desperation clawing inside her. Her friend looked like he had been through hell, and he wasn’t making any sense. “I thought you went home for Easter-“

“I did,” Cole spat, and the bitterness in his voice nearly made her flinch. “But I’m not welcome there anymore.”

“What?” Jerry asked, shocked. Anne felt a lump grow in her throat.

"My dad found my sketchbook, started yelling at me about wasting my time at school if all I did was draw,” Cole muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “He threatened to pull me out if I wasn’t going to be serious about magic, said it didn’t matter since all I was going to do was run the herbology farm with him anyway. And I just – I lost it. Told him I wasn’t quitting school, and I wasn’t going to work the farm either, that I wanted to be an artist,” Cole hiccupped, reaching out to grip the couch. “He just started screaming, yelling that I was letting the whole family down, and I was screaming back, and then Mum joined in. Last thing I remember he said that if I wanted to ruin my life and be an artist than I could leave, and I just grabbed my trunk and left. Used some wizard’s store fireplace and Green Gables was the only place that I could think of.”

“Oh Cole,” Anne’s heart felt like was going to break for him.

“They don’t want me Anne,” Cole said, sounding more lost and broken than Anne had ever heard.  “They can’t accept me- they were my family, why couldn’t they accept me?” Cole wasn’t able to hold back the tears anymore, and they fell freely down his face.

Anne drew him into a tight hug. “Its okay, Cole, it’s okay,” she soothed him. “We’re here. We accept you. We will always accept you.”

Jerry put his arm around the pair of them awkwardly, his fist knocking into Anne’s shoulder.

Her eyes met Marilla’s from across the room, asking a dozen silent questions. All she could see in Marilla’s blue eyes was a reflection of Anne’s own despair.

“It’ll be okay,” Anne said again, but the enormity of what Cole had just done was starting to dawn. This wasn’t something Anne could fix with positive reassurances or muggle tricks. Cole’s life may never go back to the way it was.

“It’ll be okay.”

“I’ve got you, right?” Cole whispered, and her and Jerry’s grip both tightened.

“Always, Cole,” Anne promised.

“Than I’ll be alright.”

***

The bright sunshine and chirping birdsong of spring were a welcome change of atmosphere for Anne over the next few weeks, given all the turmoil surrounding her. The skies grew clearer and more blue with each passing day as flowers filled the grounds and leaves created canopies of the forest.

With the warmer weather, Anne returned to the forest more and more, enjoying the peace of mind that it provided. It was a safe haven from the troubles that maturity and the castle seemed to bring.

“I bet you never have to worry about missing family or finances or education boards,” Anne cooed, stroking the nose of a baby thestral. “All you’ll ever want for is right in this forest, your mother and herd and home all close by.” The thestral pup whinnied at her, ducking under her hand for more pets. Anne obliged, still murmuring soft words into his ear. A few other thestral newborns clustered around her, occasionally nudging her for similar attention as their mothers kept an eye on them from their nests.

“Anne?”

Somehow, Anne wasn’t surprised that it was Gilbert who had found her. It seemed to be a reoccurring pattern in her life, for the other boy to appear when least expected, saying her name as if it were a question he couldn’t understand.

“Gilbert,” Anne paused momentarily, unwilling to share this moment of vulnerability and peace with her academic rival. Not to mention that in all likelihood all Gilbert could see was Anne petting air, and as such thought she was mad. But the thestrals pushed at her, demanding more attention. Anne settled and acquiesced to them, running a calming hand down one’s neck while gently scratching the skeletal chin of a second pup.

“Do you make friends with every magical creature you come across?” Gilbert asked. 

“Only the nice ones,” Anne told him. “Besides, thestrals are really very gentle creatures. They’re kind to anyone who is kind to them.” She glanced over to see Gilbert still hanging back, watching her and the thestrals with an odd expression.

“Here, come see” Anne beckoned him over with her head, her hands still busy petting the thestrals. “Just go slowly so you don’t scare the mothers,” she added. Gilbert walked toward them cautiously, his eyes watching the grown thestrals that surrounded them. A few of the mothers rustled, eyeing the newcomer, but none of them made any move towards them.

“There’s an apple in my bag,” Anne said, kicking it lightly with her foot. “You can offer it to one, they adore apples.”

Gilbert presented the smallest pup with the fruit, and was rewarded with a gratefully whinny.

“Sorry, no more,” Gilbert laughed, catching the thestral’s mouth and rubbing it when the thestral tried to poke at Anne’s schoolbag for more treats. “They don’t feel how I thought they would,” he said after a moment, stroking the pup’s ears.

"I said the same thing, when Matthew first showed me,” Anne reminisced fondly, remembering the first time she had seen Hogwarts’ thestral herd. “The others can’t see them though, so I never got any confirmation before.”

“I don’t know anyone in my old year who could see them either,” Gilbert said. “Surprising, considering-“ he trailed off, but Anne knew what he meant. The wizarding plague.

“Is that why you can see them?” The question was said before she thought twice about it, and Anne regretted it immediately. She remembered a harsh rebuffal in an orchard years ago and cursed her lack of tact, then and now.

“It’s fine,” Gilbert assured her, for once smiling without smirking. There was something still small and sad about his smile, Anne noticed. She wondered when the last time he had truly smiled had been. “It’s a natural question, I was thinking the same thing,” he admitted. “I was in the room when my eldest brother died of the wizarding plague. I saw them pulling the carriages since first year.”

“That’s awful,” Anne said. She had known about Gilbert’s father, but it had never occurred to her that he would have had other family too – a mother, siblings, all gone now. 

“I was seven,” Gilbert continued. Anne had stopped petting the thestrals, who broke off to start playing with each other nearby. She was watching Gilbert, but he didn’t look up from his pup, methodically stroking its wings. “I was the youngest of five, but Dad always kept me out of the room after that. It was too late though.”

One of the other thestrals bumped into Gilbert’s, causing it to whinny and chase after his friends.

“Mine was only a few months before I came to Hogwarts,” Anne said, as they watched the pups frolic and tease each other. “Mr. Hammond was one of the families I was placed out with, my very last one. I had spoiled the supper, and he was angry about it. We were in the yard, and then suddenly he was dead.”  

For a while, they were both quiet, watching the thestrals play. Anne marveled how comfortable the silence was between them. She and Gilbert had rarely managed to talk this long without arguing before.

“Do you think they know?” Gilbert asked suddenly, sticking his hands into his pockets. “That only people who have seen death can see them?”

Anne pondered on that. She remembered looking into a thestral’s eyes for the first time, pure white yet somehow they held a deep, gentle understanding in them.

"Yes,” Anne decided. “But I don’t think it matters to them, who can see them or why. They’re beyond that. They don’t care that they’re different.”

“Wiser than a lot of other creatures, then,” Gilbert chuckled.

For the first time, Anne realized, she agreed with something Gilbert Blythe said.

(Not that she told him that.)

***

“Um, Gilbert?”

“Yeah Cole?”

“Could I borrow a quill?”

“Oh, sure, hold on a moment.”

The quill Gilbert held out to him had been worn down so much it was hardly more than a sharpened nub with a few stringy feathers attached. The whole piece fit entirely within Cole’s hand.

Beggers can’t be choosers, Cole sighed inwardly.

“Thanks, Gilbert.”

Cole ended up getting more ink on his hands then he did the parchment, and the few notes he did have were totally illegible. He ended up just borrowing Diana’s notes instead.

 ***

The news reached Anne and the other fourth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors halfway through a potions class.

“I heard one of the older students got a letter from his dad, whose the head of the board,” Cetus told Anne and Diana under the guise of borrowing their slicing knife. “There’s going to be some sort of hearing before the exams, with the whole board and senior staff. It sounded like everything was already decided though.”

“But Professor Stacy didn’t even do anything wrong,” Anne argued. “Maxim’s accident wasn’t anyones fault!”

“Except maybe his own,” Diana muttered. Ruby grimaced, but didn’t argue

“They’re just using Maxim as an excuse,” Cole broke in, crushing his shrivelpod beans too strongly. Anne winced as the juice went everywhere. The approach of the end of the year was taking its toll on Cole, as he rebuked his parent’s owl offering to forgive and forget, effectively severing all ties, and his potions and school equipment were bearing the brunt of his emotions. Between her worry about Cole’s lack of a place to live and Professor Stacy’s predicament, Anne was starting to feel stretched thin.

“What do you mean, Maxim is an excuse?” Ruby asked Cole, firmly moving their potion closer to her.

“Well, Jane said her mum didn’t like the new teaching style, remember?” Cole said. “They would have forced a hearing to get her out no matter what, Maxim’s accident just happened first.”

“That isn’t fair!” Anne growled, hitting the table forcefully. “She’s the best teacher we have!”

“Miss Shirley-Cuthbert,” Professor Allen passed by their table, wrinkling his nose at Anne and Diana’s half finished potion, and Cole’s destroyed beans. “We would all appreciate it if you would refrain from breaking any potion instruments, if you are upset about something, I suggest you work out your emotional problems somewhere that isn’t a classroom.”

“Yes sir,” Anne said through gritted teeth. Her main dislike of potions came from the material, but Professor Allen was hardly doing the subject any favors.

“But Anne’s right,” Diana whispered once Professor Allen had moved on. “How is it fair that someone like Professor Allen or Phillips is here for years without question, but Professor Stacy isn’t even given a real chance?”

“It’s not,” Anne declared. “Which is why we have to convince the board to change their minds.”

“How are we going to do that?” Ruby asked curiously.

“I have no idea,” Anne admitted. “But I’m going to figure it out.”

***

Ruby sighed dreamily as she watched Gilbert from across the library, scouring the shelves for a transfiguration book.  

“Someday, I’m going to be Mrs. Gilbert Blythe,” she said decisively, oblivious to Diana and Cole’s baleful stares at her, then Gilbert.

Cole watched as Gilbert glanced furtively through the shelves into the next aisle for the fifth time in as many minutes. The very aisle that Anne was in, lost in her own world as she devoured old ministry education decrees.

Cole looked at Ruby again, still watching Gilbert, then turned to Diana.

“I’m going to tell her.”

“Don’t you dare!”

***

“Anne, Anne!” Diana pulled her best friend out from the Ancient Runes exam crowd and dragged her into an alcove.

“Diana, what’s wrong?” Anne demanded, alarmed by Diana’s rushed state. Her best friend was in her flying gear, even though quidditch was over for the season.

“The professors – Headmaster Twycross’s window was open…I was flying past and-“ Diana gasped for breath, her words tripping over themselves and making no sense to Anne. 

“Diana, I don’t understand.”

“The hearing Anne,” Diana gripped her hands tightly. “For Professor Stacy. It’s set for tomorrow night!”

Wind rushed to Anne’s ears.

“We’re going to fix this,” Anne muttered. Her own hands were stark white in Diana’s grip, but Anne felt as if she were miles away, her mind whirling. “Diana, we’re not going to let them dismiss her.”

Diana nodded resolutely. Her expression reminded Anne of a soldier ready to go to war, brimming with determination as she awaited orders.

“How can I help, Anne?” Diana asked. “What do you need?”

“Gather the others – Jerry, Ruby and Cole,” Anne said. “I think we may be able to solve two problems with one stone. Meet me in the owlery. I have a plan.”

***

Diana arrived at the owlery less than a half hour later, Ruby, Jerry and Cole in tow. To Anne’s surprise, Moody Spurdgeon was bringing up the rear.

“He was with Jerry, and insisted on coming with,” Diana shrugged at Anne’s bemused look.

“You’re trying to save Professor Stacy, right?” Moody shuffled his feet, his natural awkwardness tampering the decisive tense to his shoulders. “I want to help.”

“Isn’t your dad on the board?” Cole asked, eyebrows raised.

Moody nodded, a bit shame-faced. “That’s why I need to help. My mom was the one who was arguing for her dismissal after the lesson she saw, and I didn’t say anything then. I need to make that right.”

Anne swapped a look with Diana and Ruby, calculating.

“Fine,” Anne decided. “But I’m warning you Moody – you can’t back out after you hear the plan.”

“I won’t,” Moody swore. “Godric’s honor.”

  “Alright,” Anne gestured and they all leaned toward her, listening intently. “Here’s the plan. They won’t listen to words, so we need to show them all how much more effective Professor Stacy’s methods are.”

“How do we do that?” Ruby asked.

“Black wick candles,” Anne said. “A lot of them. There’s a store in Dufftown that sells them, but we’re going to need things to trade. Everyone still have some potions materials left over from the exams?” There were several nods. “Perfect. Bring them. People always need potion ingredients.”

“It’s going to take a while,” Diana pointed out. “What if someone notices we’re gone, or the hearing starts early?”

“One of us is going to need to stay behind and cover for us,” Anne decided. “And stall if it comes down to it. Ruby, could you-“

“Oh no,” Ruby said firmly. “I’m a dreadful liar when not writing, Anne, they’ll catch me out in a minute. Besides, I’m smaller and faster than the rest of you. You may need me if there’s trouble.”

Anne allowed herself to pause for a moment and consider Ruby. It was worth remembering that Ruby was a Gryffindor, after all.

“I could stay behind-“ Cole started, but Anne shook her head.

“You need to talk to Aunt Jo,” Anne said. “She’s the only one who might be able to help you. Jerry, could you-?

Jerry bit his lip – Jerry was never very confident in lying. Anne knew her friend would much rather be at her, Cole’s and Diana’s side, where the action was. But Anne couldn’t count on Moody to withstand scrutiny or have second thoughts. And truthfully, after the attacks on Jerry the last two years, Anne wanted him somewhere away from the action.

Jerry would argue with her if he knew that she was thinking that though.

“I can do it,” Jerry agreed. “Though if Marilla asks, no telling what she’ll read in my thoughts.”         

For the last time, Marilla isn’t a legilimins,“ Diana sighed. Anne and Jerry exchanged matching skeptical looks.

“One question,” Moody spoke up for the first time. “How are we going to get to Dufftown? All the floo systems in the castle are off limits for students.”

"We’re not flooing,” Anne told him. “They’ll catch on immediately if we travel anywhere the magical way.”

“Then how are we going to get there?” Ruby asked, brow furrowed.

Anne’s eyes lit up with adventure. “I have an idea.”

***

“This is a terrible, terrible idea,” Ruby fretted. “We’re going to get caught, we’re so going to get caught-“

“Ruby hush ,” Diana scolded. “Of course we’ll get caught if you are so loud!”

“Are we sure this is going to work?” Moody frowned, looking at the train skeptically.

“It’s simple, I’ve read about it in plenty of my books, muggles do it all the time,” Anne said impatiently. “Look, he’s turning away. Wait for my signal.”

“Read about it?” Moody said, alarmed. “You mean you’ve never actually done it!”

But Anne didn’t answer, already halfway to the train compartment. The four of them waited, hardly daring to breathe, as Anne pulled herself up into the luggage car and slipped inside.

Diana’s heart thudded once. Twice. Three times-

Anne’s head popped around the car door, and she held up two fingers, then a beckoning gesture. 

"Right, Ruby,” Diana whispered. “That’s us, come on.”

Ruby looked as if she would rather be doing anything else, but with Diana’s help she got shakily to her feet. They ran quickly across the tracks, and Anne pulled them inside before turning to wave Moody and Cole over.

There were a few harrowing moments where Moody tripped over the platform, and Cole just managed to get him up before one of the porters walked by. Cole and Anne pushed the door closed just as the train began to pick up speed, plunging them into darkness. The group settled in for the train’s trek to Dufftown, made twice every week for supplies, utterly oblivious that several cars back, one person had indeed seen them.

***

“We’re here,” Anne whispered in the dark nearly an hour and a half later, rousing Moody and Cole from their drowsy state. “Come on, we need to leave before they check the luggage car. If anyone spots us, we’re done for.”

Cole and Moody pulled the heavy door back, and they all threw up their hands at the bright sunlight that met their eyes.

Anne blinked, forcing her eyes to adjust-

and looked right into the smug face of Gilbert Blythe.

“What are you doing here?” Anne demanded even as she heard Ruby gasp in delight.

"I think that’s a question better off asked to you,” Gilbert said, looking delighted at their shocked expressions.

Anne crossed her arms. “I asked first.”

“Anne, we need to go, ” Diana reminded her, both anxious and exasperated. “Argue on the way to town!” Gilbert seemed to agree with that, as he stepped back to let them jump down.

Gilbert’s explanation had been simple enough, if sobering. His father’s accounts were at the bank in Dufftown, and Gilbert had to meet them about the land deed to his and Bash’s cottage. Bash’s fireplace hadn’t been set up for the floo network, something unmissed by the Blythe-Lacroix duo, so Gilbert was left to take the train.

(Gilbert was far more interested in what the rest of them were doing, and insisted on helping in any way he could. Anne, recognizing at once how useful it would be to have help from all four houses later on, agreed at once.) 

“Good luck with the deed,” Anne said as they reached the first main intersection. Left was the way to Aunt Jo’s, right was to the wizarding shop, and straight ahead was the bank. “I hope it all works out.”

"I hope you can save Professor Stacy,” Gilbert smiled, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe you hopped a train!”

“Well it’s no steamship,” Anne quipped, and Gilbert laughed. “See you on the other side of the war?”

Gilbert nodded, tipping his hat as he split from the rest of them. Cole shot her a smug, knowing look.

“What?” Anne demanded, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Nothing.”

“Cole!”

“See you at the afternoon train,” Cole said enigmatically, and disappeared into the crowds.

“What was that about?” Anne asked Diana, but her friend just shook her head in exasperation. “The candles, Anne?”

Anne huffed.  

***

It was nothing short of a miracle that the rest of the mission went smoothly. Ruby proved to be sharp as a whip when it came to negotiating for the black wick candles, her knowledge of just what each potion ingredient was worth making her invaluable. Anne thanked every witch and wizard she had heard of that Ruby hadn’t been the one to stay behind.

All too soon, they were all clustered around Aunt Jo’s fireplace. Cole had been practically glowing ever since they met back up, and it was such a change from the dark mood that had overtaken him since Easter that Anne almost wanted to cry. Aunt Jo insisted on sending them back via floo powder, tutting on about the risks of jumping trains.

They stumbled out at Green Gables, nearly sending Matthew into another health scare when he walked in to the living room and saw five soot covered teens.

“Anne?” The older man asked rather helpless.

“There’s no time to explain, Matthew,” Anne cut her adoptive father off. “We need to get to the castle as quick as possible. It’s a matter of emergency!”

Matthew took one look at her determined face, and wasted no time saddling up the wagon.

Jerry was waiting for them in the entrance hall, his face pinched with anxiety.

“What happened?” Anne asked immediately.

“They’re here, I couldn’t stall them anymore,” Jerry explained, wringing his hands. “Professor LaCroix tried to help me, but they are already in the great hall. Anne, it’s everyone, the whole board, all the teachers, the head boy and girl-“

“Right,” Anne nodded. “We need to move fast.” She glanced at the others, clustered behind her. “We’re going to need numbers, as many as we can get. Gather up everyone in our year, the fifth and third years too if possible, all the ones we know.”

“How do we get them to come?” Moody asked, and Ruby nodded in agreement. “I mean, it’s not exactly a quidditch match.”

Anne straightened, looking them straight in the eye. “Tell them we’re standing up for our education,” Anne said, and Diana nodded approvingly. “For every spell that we understood better under Professor Stacy, every decision that has been made for us about our school and our education – we’re taking it back.”

She surveyed their faces, their serious eyes paired with excited grins of anticipation. She hoped that this is really enough to work.

“Oh!” Anne added. “And tell them to bring their wands.” Nods all around.

Her friends scattered, Gilbert, Moody, Diana and Ruby to their common rooms, Cole and Jerry to the library and bathrooms.

“What can I do?” Matthew asked after they left.

“Pass me that sack of candles,” Anne said, hefting her own bag. She had her own work to do.

By the time Anne and Matthew had finished unwrapping each candle, their reinforcements had arrived. Diana had nearly every Ravenclaw third through fifth in tow, with several sixths and sevenths in tow from the Quidditch team. Jane grinned at Anne, and the redhead found herself looking for Prissy before remembering that as head girl she was already inside. Moody and Jerry had brought in several Hufflepuffs as well, and Cole and Ruby had all of the fourth and fifth Gryffindors with them. Anne felt a swell of pride when she saw Josie and Bhors there. Gilbert’s group was the smallest, a handful of Slytherin’s, but they were following Gilbert as if he were Merlin himself.

All in all, there were nearly fifty of them. Anne hoped they had enough candles.

Diana helped Anne take charge, organizing them all into two lines as Matthew passed out the candles. Whispers run up and down the line as they all practice the incantation, older students teaching it to the younger ones.

"Ready?” Diana whispered as she and Anne stood in the front of one of the lines. Ruby and Moody were across from them.

“Ready,” Anne took a deep breath. Jerry and Cole opened the doors.

There are shocked gasps and even some shouts as they enter the Great Hall, candles blazing high over their heads. Anne ignored them, her eyes not leaving the high table where the staff was seated as she made her way through the dining tables.

It looked they had walked in just as Professor Stacy had finished saying something. She was in front of the table, her face flushed red but posture proud and tall, and there was a look of wonder and pride on her face as she watched the students processing in.

Not all of the teachers shared her look – Professor Phillips looked enraged, and Professor Allen and MacMillian were frowning in disapproval. Llewellyn just looked intrigued. But Twycross was smiling indulgently, and Anne spotted Bash at the end of the table, grinning wildly.

Anne stopped just infront of the high table, and her peers fanned out to the sides, Diana on one side and Ruby on the other. She turned to see the board and parents that were amassed at the tables, watching as their children formed a literal wall in front of the very teacher they were meant to be dismissing.

“What is the meaning of this?” An older man groused, glaring at them from behind a pair of heavy spectacles. “This is no place for children!”

Matthew had slipped into the crowd, fending off Marilla’s furious questions as he sent Anne an encouraging nod.

Anne took a deep breath.

For Professor Stacy, she reminded herself.

The man was still standing, demanding answers and a few of the other board members had begun to join in.

“Professor Twycross, what is the meaning of this?”

“Explain yourselves!”

“What are these children doing here?”

“We are here,” Anne said, and her voice rang clearly in the high rafters. “Because it is our education that is at stake here, and we have something we would like to say about it.”

"Sit down, girl!” A man shouted, but Twycross had stood up, his long beard thin and whispy by the black wick light, and a silence fell across the hall.

"The students have a right to be heard,” Twycross decided gently. “I, for one, am eager to hear what they have to say.” Twycross gestured at Anne to continue, and she could have sworn she saw him wink at her as he did so.

Bolstered by this unexpected ally, Anne continued. 

“What you are about to witness is the effect of Professor Stacy’s teaching in action,” Anne stated, raising her candle so that everyone’s eyes were on it. Once she was sure that she had everyone’s attention, she blew out the flame. All along the line, dozens of other candles went out as the other fourth years did the same.

“Professor Stacy taught us the book’s spells and incantations to light a regular candle, just like every other charms teacher at Hogwarts has,” Anne said, shooting a glance at the woman in question. “But Professor Stacy’s methods went beyond that. She taught us how to recognize and sharpen the magic already inside us, and the spirit of curiosity and understanding that is the forefront of knowledge. With Professor Stacy’s methods, we not only know the spell to light a candle – we have more precision, control, and power than ever before.”

“A black wick candle is the most difficult magical instrument to light,” Anne said, holding hers up higher. “Because your magic must be under complete control to do so. Most wizards and witches can never hope to attempt it. But Professor Stacy doesn’t believe in impossibilities. And she taught us to believe in ourselves.”

Everyone with an extinguished candle drew out their wands, waiting for Anne’s signal.

"By opening our minds to learn more about our own magic, we wield it with true understanding,” Anne said, drawing out her own wand.

Feel your magic out. Draw it to your forefront, the exact temperature fixed in your mind.  She nodded at Diana.

“And with greater understanding,” Anne raised her voice to be heard over her classmates whispering the incantation. “We open the doors to unlimited potential.”

Flames shot up all along the line of students, creating a ripple of illumination as parents and teachers broke out into excited and shocked murmers. A few mothers and fathers even clapped. 

“Tell me, and I forget,” Anne said. “Teach me, and I remember. Involve me and I learn.”

The crowd was wavering, Anne could feel it. Parents and board members were muttering amongst themselves. It was a mixture of approving smiles and angry gestures, but what drew Anne’s attention the most were those who looked conflicted.

They needed something else, something final to sway more minds. But Anne couldn’t think of the right phrase.

“Understand why the magic happens,” Gilbert said, and they all recognized the phrase.

“And we understand how the magic happens,” nearly fifty voices ring out, and the effect is overwhelming. Anne glanced at Professor Stacy, hand over mouth as she surveyed her students with touched pride.

Her final words came to mind fully formed.

“Change isn’t dangerous or evil,” Anne implored. “It’s just not the same.”

She paused, letting her words sink in. All she could do now is hope.

Prissy Andrews stood up from her seat in the back, and cleared the throat.

"Professor Stacy is an inspiration to us all,” Prissy said, her serene tone no less genuine. “I’ve been top of charms class since I was 14, but Professor Stacy taught me more in a few months than I ever learned in a whole year. Professor Stacy is the kind of educator Hogwarts needs. And as soon to be alumni, and Head Girl of Hogwarts, she has my full vote of confidence,” Prissy smiled proudly at Professor Stacy, ignoring Professor Phillips who was fuming a few seats away. Jane cheered loudly, and the scattered others joined in.

“As a member of the faculty,” Marilla said, rising unsteadily to her feet. Her voice was hoarse and she cleared it delicately. “As a member of the faculty for nearly two decades now, I have seen many of its teachers. And as someone who spent most of my life without change,” she shot a knowing glance at Anne, “and then had a great deal of change thrust upon me,” Anne giggled. “I can attest that it is the only way to learn and grow. I too, vouch for Professor Stacy.”

“As do I,” Professor Llewellyn rose to his feet. “It’s about time this castle got some fresh ideas.”

It was his voice that broke the dam. Dozens of support poured in, parents and other teachers clamoring their support for Professor Stacy. Anne spotted Jane’s mother among them.

A few feet down, Moody was watching his father with a pleading expression, eyes wide. The man folded his arms tightly, and looked away.

Twycross cleared his throat, and a hush fell. “I too, support Professor Stacy’s appointment,” he said. Diana and Ruby clutched Anne’s hands in excitement. “Given the proof we have of her methods, and the overwhelming support shown by students, faculty, and parents these past few minutes, I invoke my right as headmaster to dismiss the hearing,” he paused, staring the board members down. “Professor Stacy stays.”

Cheers erupted.

“We did it!” Ruby squealed, throwing her arms around Anne and Diana.

“We did!” Anne laughed delightedly.

“Ruby, your candle!” Diana yelped, hurriedly putting out the flame before Anne’s hair caught on fire.

Professor Stacy appeared in front of them.