Chapter Text
Something woke the little girl, though for once it was not the hiccoughing cries of her new baby brother. Only a sliver of moonlight lit Millicent's room, edging between the heavy velvet drapes covering her balcony doors. An owl hooted, either outside or in the owlery two floors of above. She clutched her pink silk comforter more tightly, blinking in the dark, her heart pounding. Blackie's fur was pressed against her cheek, but the cat's ears were folded against his head and his back was stiff. She wished Mummy would open the door and check on her.
A crash sounded downstairs. Blackie hissed and leapt from her bed. Strange, angry voices vibrated through the floorboards. With Blackie gone, Millicent felt around for her stuffed kitty, pulling it against her nightdress as she sat up in bed. Her bedroom felt suddenly big and lonely. She kicked the sheets away and climbed down with Kitty clutched in both arms, then sat on the pink rug to tug her slippers on. Mummy said to always wear her slippers when she got up or her feet would turn to ice. She did not want her feet to turn to ice. What if she went out to play and when she came in her feet melted away? She stood and hugged Kitty again as she crept to her bedroom door. She had to drop the toy and use both hands, but finally the brass knob twisted and the door swung inward. Suddenly, it was bright and noisy.
A voice from downstairs growled, "Reducto!"
There was another bang and more shouting. She tiptoed along the thick hall carpet to crouch at the top of the stairs.
"You can't do this. I'll speak with the Minister."
Daddy did not usually raise his voice. Sometimes Mummy yelled, but Daddy always talked nicely, even when Millicent knew she had been bad.
"You can try but she won't have time for your lot." It was one of the strange, angry voices. "The days of Death Eaters running the Ministry are done."
"We're not Death Eaters."
Millicent squished Kitty to her chest as she inched forward. She was not allowed to go downstairs after she had been put to bed, but sitting on the top step was not going downstairs. In the entryway below, Daddy stood with his arms around Mummy.
A big grizzly man with a wooden face paced in front of them, growling. "Maybe you don't have the Mark but we know you practice Dark Arts. Filth like you ought to be left to the Dementors. Save us the trouble of watching you."
Mummy's face turned red and she opened her mouth, but Daddy hugged her tighter and she closed her mouth again.
"I hear you've gotten quite talented at Unforgivables yourself," Daddy said.
"I only use 'em on Death Eater filth like your friends." The growling man stopped pacing and stared at Daddy. "Not against helpless muggles."
"But you don't hesitate to torture 17-year-old children." Mummy lifted her chin and stared back.
"That so-called child is of age and had the Dark Mark on her arm; she made her choice. She should be grateful she didn't end up dead like that evil bastard that sired you both."
"Grateful to be locked in a stone fortress patrolled by soulless demons?" Mummy said.
It was her Serious Trouble voice and Millicent was surprised the growling man, even as big and hairy as he was, did not say sorry. Maybe, if he locked people up with demons, nothing scared him.
Instead of saying sorry, he stepped even closer, nose to nose with Mummy, and bent down. "Perhaps you'd like to join your sister in Azkaban?"
Daddy pushed her behind him. "You have no reason to lock us up."
The growling man narrowed his tiny, dark eyes on Daddy. "Not yet." His eyes snapped up and fastened on Millicent.
She gasped and slid backwards on her bum until her back hit the wall as far away from the stairs as she could get. Mummy looked up, saw her, and gasped. She broke away from Daddy and ran up the stairs to sweep her into her arms. Millicent buried her face in Mummy's shoulder. Mummy smelled like lilacs.
The crashing and banging stopped but now more angry voices were downstairs with the growling man.
"What did you find?" he snapped.
"Nothing."
"Are you sure? This place must be full of Dark objects."
"Then they've got 'em well hidden."
"We don't have anything illegal," Daddy said.
"Watch what you say or I'll lock you up for lying to an Auror."
"It's not a crime to protest illegal search--"
"And I'll lock up your wife and that Death Eater-in-training up there."
Mummy squeezed her so tightly Millicent could barely breathe. Daddy did not say anything else.
"We'll be back and next time we'll find what we're looking for. I can smell a Dark Wizard and this place reeks," the wooden-faced man growled. "Come on, we're done here for now."
The front door slammed and then Daddy ran up the stairs to put his arms around Mummy and Millicent.
Mipsy appeared with a sharp crack, pulling at her long ears with spindly hands. "It will be taking us days to fix the mess those bad men made and Mistress's prize Venomous Tentacula has been stomped to death."
"Bastards," Mummy said.
It was a bad word. The angry voices must be bad people.
"They didn't hurt Blackie, did they?" Millicent asked, raising her head from Mummy's shoulder.
"Oh, no, mistress." The elf shook her head vigorously.
"Perhaps we should be thankful only a plant suffered lasting damage at their hands tonight." Daddy put a hand on Millicent's head and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Did they scare you, Pumpkin?"
She nodded.
"I won't let them hurt you." He put his arms around Mummy and Millicent again, hugging them both. "I won't let them hurt any of us."
#
Millicent knelt on the hot sand to scoop a handful into her pink bucket. A purple hippogriff painted on the side winked at her. At school they probably learned a spell for sand-castle building, but Millicent was too young for a wand, so she worked by hand.
"Can I help?" Another little girl crouched down beside her. "I have a shovel." She brandished a tiny blue shovel made of a bendy material.
"Sure." Millicent scooped up another handful of sand for the bucket. She patted it down and then turned the bucket over but the tower of sand collapsed.
"It's better if you use wet sand." The other little girl dug through the top layer to the clumpy, wet, dark sand and used her shovel to scoop some into the bucket. She wore a thin suit made of stretchy material that left her arms and legs bare. It looked cooler and easier to play in than Millicent's pantaloons and striped dress.
When the bucket was full, she patted it down and then flipped the bucket upside down. A perfect sand tower stood tall.
The girl made a second sand tower not far from the first. "You can get the shells and sticks for the top."
When Millicent had collected a small pile of broken shell pieces and bits of driftwood, she dumped the treasures next to the four sand sentinels that now made up the four corner towers of a castle. She dropped to her knees and helped scrape wet sand to press into walls linking the towers.
"Where's your family?" the girl asked as she built up a sand wall between her palms.
"Mummy Apparated back to the manor. My little brother has to have his nap."
The little girl crinkled her face at the word "Apparated," then shrugged. "If she's gone for a long time, you can stay with us if you want; then we can play some more."
Millicent wondered why the girl thought Apparition took a long time. Maybe her parents preferred brooms. "Mummy will be back in a minute. She said I could stay by myself as long as I don't go in the water."
"I'm not allowed to go swimming by myself, either."
Both girls looked at the line of white foam that separated the sand from the ocean waves.
"But I can play on the beach as long as I stay in sight." She pointed at a cottage perched at the edge of a rocky outcropping further up the beach.
"Why don't they just use a sneak-o-scope to make sure you're okay?" Millicent eyed the glass top that had gotten her into trouble with Mummy more often than she liked.
The girl looked curiously at the coloured top. "Can we play with that next?"
"It's not a toy." Millicent tipped her head to study the sand castle. "The towers should be taller, with crooked turrets on the sides, and a bridge."
"That would be funny but it's too hard to make towers on top of each other. The bottom ones always get squished."
"My daddy could do it." Millicent sighed. Her daddy could make amazing sand castles with a swish of his wand, with a bridge, and twinkling lights in the tower windows, and little figures that moved. "At least we should have a tower right in the middle." She took the blue scoop and began filling her bucket.
The other girl paused and stared at the bucket. "Did that dragon picture wink?"
"It's a hippogriff and yes, it does that."
"Wow."
They decorated the towers and walls with broken bits of seashell and stuck a long, thin bit of driftwood like a flag in the centre tower. When they were done, they stood back to admire their creation.
There was a pop a little way up the beach. "Millicent."
She looked up to see Mummy in her purple-striped beach dress and green-lined cape. Mummy had a look on her face that made Millicent check the sneak-o-scope but there was no flashing light or whistle to indicate danger.
"Pumpkin, come here." Mummy held out her hand.
The other girl stood up and goggled. "Is that your mother? Why does she dress like that?"
Millicent looked at her mother and back at the girl. "Because that's her beach suit."
"Millicent, come here right now." Mummy was using her Serious Voice. Without taking her gaze from the girl, she bent and collected the sneak-o-scope and basket she had left on the beach before. "Bring your bucket."
"I didn't go in the water, I promise." She had followed the rules, so why was Mummy frowning?
"That's fine, Pumpkin. Now, hurry." Mummy held out her hand, keeping an eye on the little girl.
"I have to go," Millicent said to her friend.
"Can you play tomorrow?"
"I don't know. I'll ask." She grabbed her pink bucket and ran to Mummy who took her hand and squeezed it too tightly. "Ow."
"I'm sorry, pumpkin." She backed away, pulling Millicent with her.
"Can I come back here tomorrow?"
"I don't think so."
Millicent dragged her feet. The little girl was a lot more fun to play with than her baby brother. "Please, Mummy?"
"No."
Millicent knew better than to ask again. As Mummy kept tugging her across the beach, she turned and waved. "Sorry I can't play anymore."
The other little girl looked sad. She waved and then dug a toe into the sand, head down. Mummy spun on the spot and Apparated them away.
They landed in the foyer of the manor.
Mummy dropped to her knees and began poking and prodding at Millicent, spinning her one way and another. "Are you okay, Pumpkin?"
"Yes." She wriggled out of Mummy's grip. "I told you I didn't go near the water."
"I know you didn't, sweetheart." Mummy squeezed her in a hug and then whipped out her wand and began muttering spells.
Millicent squirmed under a particularly scratchy scourgify that made her skin tingle.
"Is everything all right?" Daddy walked in as Mummy finished her cleaning spells.
"I found her at the beach playing with one of Them." Mummy made a funny face at Daddy.
His forehead crinkled. "One of who?"
Mummy mouthed something that looked like muggle.
Daddy got a funny look as if he had bitten a lemon. "Is she okay?"
"She seems fine," Mummy told Daddy before she turned to her daughter. "Run upstairs and Mipsy will draw you a bath." Mummy pushed Millicent towards the stairs.
She walked a few steps and then turned back to her parents who were whispering to each other. "I had fun today. I made a friend."
Mummy looked like she had stepped on a Venomous Tentacula and was waiting for it to bite her. Her parents exchanged a glance.
"I'm sure you'll make other friends, Pumpkin," Daddy said.
Two hours later she was washed and dressed in her night clothes and Daddy was reading her a bedtime story.
"So the witch arrived at the wedding just in time to expose Snow White as an assassin. The prince was so grateful that he made the witch his queen and they lived happily ever after."
As much as she loved the fairy tale, Millicent was still thinking about the little girl on the beach. "Daddy, why are you and Mummy scared of my new friend?"
Daddy sighed and with a flick of his wand sent the book back to the bookshelf in the corner of Millicent's bedroom. He settled back against her headboard and brushed a lock of curly black hair from her forehead. "There are people in this world, Pumpkin, who have no magic."
"Of course not, she's only my age." Everyone knew that your magic showed up in small, unexpected ways until you went to school and learned spells and charms and potions.
"I mean, she'll never have magic, like her parents don't have magic."
Millicent frowned at her father, trying to understand. "Are her parents children?"
Daddy laughed. "No, her parents are grownups. Grownups without magic."
"Didn't they go to school, Daddy?"
"They went to their own special schools, schools for people without magic."
"But what did they learn at school, then?"
Her father blinked. "Well, they, they learn..."
Mummy peeked around the bedroom door. "Time to go to sleep."
"Yes." Daddy kissed her forehead and got up from the bed. "Time to sleep."
"Daddy, why are you scared of people without magic? Can't we help them learn?"
Mummy patted Daddy on the arm and took his place on the bed, her soft fingers combing through Millicent's hair. "There are some things they can't learn, Pumpkin."
The stroke of her mother's nails against her scalp made Millicent sleepy. She slid down further beneath the pink covers. "Why can't they learn?"
"They're too busy doing other things."
"Scary things?" she mumbled, her eyelids fluttering.
"Sometimes." Mummy tucked the covers under Millicent's chin while continuing to stroke her hair. "They spend a lot of time fighting. They used to chase us, so we hid where they couldn't find us and when they forgot we existed they fought each other, building bigger and stronger weapons. They kept building things, so much that they threw more and more away." Mummy's hand slowed but did not stop its gentle caressing. "When I was a child, we walked endless beaches and splashed in the water and watched the birds fishing and picked up crabs and starfish from the sand. There were earthworms in the garden that would be washed out when it rained and bees thick in the flower beds. Now, the water is dirty with strange things floating on the surf and no worms and so few bees that we have to use special charms to nourish the flowers."
Millicent wanted to ask why the people without magic were hurting the water and the worms and the bees, but her eyelids grew too heavy and the sound of her mother's voice dropped to a murmur until it faded away in sleep.
#
Millicent sat cross-legged on the prickly grass next to the fish pond on the back lawn, plucking handfuls of grass and tossing them in the air to be scattered by the breeze. She had not been back to the beach since last week. Daddy had conjured a sandbox in the play garden and reduced a shovel to child-sized and Millicent had tried to get her little brother to help fill the bucket, but Myles just flapped his chubby arms, tossing sand everywhere, and stuffed what was left into his mouth.
She brushed the grass blades from her hands. Mummy had told her specifically not to get dirty today, and promised that if Millicent kept her play dress clean there would be a surprise. She examined a corner of her pink striped skirt. It was dusted with black cat hairs but no grass stains. She picked off as much of the fur as she could.
"Millicent."
She looked up. Behind Mummy were six children about Millicent's age. A boy with white hair looked around the back gardens with a pinched expression. Behind him, two boys as big as Millicent likewise stared, though with envy instead of disdain. Two girls in matching green dresses whispered together. A dark-haired girl with brown eyes stared at Millicent, hands on her hips.
Mummy beckoned her closer, smiling broadly. "This is Draco, Vincent, Greg, Pansy, Hestia, and Flora."
"No, I'm Hestia," said one of the girls in green.
"I'm Flora," said the other.
"I'm so sorry, girls," Mummy said. Then she smiled again. "Children, this is Millie."
The children exchanged half-hearted greetings.
"Perhaps you'd all like to go play? The wild ponies aren't hitched to the merry-go-round yet, but there's a bouncy pool in the back and a flying swing."
The two big boys' eyes grew round but the pale boy and green girls merely looked bored. The dark-haired girl was still watching Millicent.
"If you play in the garden, watch out for devil's snare and knot grass. You can splash in the pool if you like, but don't disturb the kelpie."
They nodded.
"I'll leave you to it, shall I?"
Once Mummy left, Millicent faced the others, hands behind her back. No one said anything.
"Why are you so big?" the dark-haired girl asked.
Millicent shrugged. "Why is your nose turned up like that?"
Pansy wrinkled her nose and then a slow smile turned up her thin lips. She took Millicent's arm and turned her around. "Show us the bouncy pool and the flying swing."
"I don't want to play on a bouncy swing," the pale boy whined. "Don't you have brooms for flying? I have a Nimbus 1500."
"Hush, Draco," Pansy said. "No one cares about your stupid broom."
The big boys, Vincent and Greg, looked from Pansy to Draco as if waiting for instruction, but Pansy ignored them and dragged Millicent arm-in-arm in the direction of the play garden.
As she let the smaller girl with the funny nose pull her along, she glanced over her shoulder. Draco's pointy face looked even more pinched than it had before, but he tagged along flanked by the two bigger boys who whispered to each other excitedly. The two green girls, Hestia and Flora, or Flora and Hestia, looked at each other, shrugged, and followed after.
#
Millicent sat on a spindly chair of dark wood with a green velvet cushion and swung her legs. She could almost touch the floor if she stretched her pointed black boots. The room was full of people wearing black. A decrepit house elf with a stream of tears raining from its bloodshot eyes delivered finger sandwiches and dainties to them. Several people were gathered by the large windows overlooking the street in front of the house. One young woman stood in the hallway beyond the sitting room doorway, rushing to pull closed a set of green velvet curtains each time they fluttered open and a horrible screeching was heard. Mummy and Daddy were talking with Pansy's parents beside a large fireplace flanked by two ornate glass-fronted cabinets. Myles was too little to come and had been left at home with Mipsy.
Millicent spotted Pansy and Draco in front of an enormous tapestry, giggling at painted pictures of people wearing funny hats. She hopped off the chair and weaved through the crowd to join them.
"That one looks like she has a rooster perched on her head," Pansy said, pointing to one of the faces drawn on the wall.
"That one has snakes instead of hair." Draco pointed to a man wearing a circlet of gold leaf like a Roman emperor.
"He does not," Pansy said. "That's a thorn bush behind him."
"He does so. See, they have eyes and fangs."
Millicent leaned closer to look at a picture of a pointy-faced boy in the bottom corner. "Draco, that looks like you."
Pansy giggled and crouched down beside her. "It is you. Why are you wearing an elf hat?"
Draco sniffed. "I'm tired of this. Let's see if we can sneak some sweets."
Sweets sounded good to Millicent. All she had had to eat since breakfast were three of the little sandwiches the crazy old elf was handing out and the last one tasted like it had been dusted with wartcap powder. She had carefully checked her hands to see if the skin turned crusty like the leather-faced elf.
The three children slipped out of the crowded room into the hallway, giving a wide berth to the green velvet curtains. When they snapped open, just before the young woman pulled them closed again, Millicent glimpsed a portrait of an old woman with a black cap who wore a nasty scowl despite the flood of tears coursing down her wrinkled cheeks. Her muffled screeching followed them down the hallway to the stone steps leading to a kitchen.
Downstairs, a wooden table ran the length of the room. Rows of silver trays lined the top. Draco found one full of tiny, iced cakes. He snagged the tray and the three children ducked underneath the table with their prize.
"Are we going to save any for Vince and Greg?" Millicent asked after they each took their second cupcake.
"No," Draco said with his mouth full and Pansy punched him in the arm. "Ow."
"Don't chew with your mouth open, it looks foul." Pansy wiped her mouth with a corner of her black skirt before she answered Millicent. "If Vince and Greg knew there was cake there wouldn't be any left."
Millicent giggled. Vince and Greg certainly could eat. They liked sweets as much as Draco but had way bigger appetites.
"Shh." Pansy laid a hand on each of the other children's arms and cocked her head.
Draco licked icing off his fingers and then froze, eyes going to the stone steps that led up from the kitchen to the main floor. Millicent felt her stomach do flip flops as she heard boots come down the stairs and into the kitchen. All three of them stared at each other, not daring to move.
"What have you heard?" It sounded like Pansy's father.
From the panic in the other girl's wide brown eyes, she must have recognized his voice, too.
A cane thumped solidly on the kitchen floor beside a pair of shiny black boots. "The Wizengamot has been given another list of objects Scrimgeour and his cronies have labelled as Dark Objects."
Draco's breath shortened at the sound of his father's voice.
"Should we find a more secure place for our family treasures?"
Lucius Malory snorted. "Only if you're hiding a batch of love charms."
"Love charms? Are you serious?"
"They intend to outlaw any and all love charms and potions along with a list of ingredients they have decided are used in Dark Magic."
"And in a dozen harmless or helpful concoctions as well, no doubt," Pansy's father said. "These lists are ludicrous, they're merely an excuse to search the homes of law-abiding wizards and witches. Why love charms now?"
"I can only assume it has to do with the regrettable circumstances under which You-Know-Who was conceived."
Millicent frowned in puzzlement.
"Meantime there are several dozen questionable items in this house which are far more dangerous than anything on their list of so-called Dark Objects."
"Yes. I've been especially careful to avoid touching anything I haven't subtly scourgified. Have you seen that decrepit elf? Looks as bat-shit crazy as the old woman was."
"Not surprising, considering the two of them have been holed up in this mausoleum for a decade."
There seemed to be a moment of shared revulsion for the nasty old house with its dark wood and thick velvet curtains and rotten smells and the row of elf heads in the hall. Millicent wrinkled her nose at the floor she was sitting on and suppressed a shudder, hoping the two men would go soon so she could get to her feet. Suddenly, she wanted to wipe her shoes and shake out her skirt.
"I heard the Aurors arrested Mrs. Rosier. Tossed her into Azkaban to await trial. She's over one hundred years old; she won't survive that place long enough to have her day before the court."
Lucius snorted disdainfully. "A trial? Like the kangaroo court young Crouch got?"
"More like the one Black didn't get, though not much would have been accomplished dragging him before the Wizengamot, Sirius was as nutty as most of that family."
"You are speaking of my wife's kin."
The cold in Draco's father's voice made Millicent shiver, but Draco's eyes were burning with outrage. Pansy grabbed hold of the sleeve of his black dress robes before he could give away their presence in the kitchen and get them caught stealing food.
"You got the best of a bad lot. Although Bellatrix was quite the looker; smart, too. Beat me in marks every year while keeping the entire class in stitches for the pranks she pulled. Bloody shame that woman is locked away for life."
"If ever she sees the sun again, she won't be the woman you remember. Cissy has tried several times to visit her sister but they cancel her pass at the last minute every time. The only visitors Bella will see before she dies in that prison are Dementors."
There was a moment of silence.
"Remember that boy one year below us who followed us around Hogwarts like a puppy, always pretending he was a friend of yours, Lucius?"
"Skinny, more freckles than a Weasley? Why, what happened to him?"
"Both his parents were killed in the war, so he inherited the family manor and everything in it. Place was raided last week and they uncovered a few trinkets You-Know-Who had entrusted to his parents, so they labelled him a Dark Wizard and took him in for questioning."
"Questioning? In an entirely legal and humane manner, I'm certain."
"Naturally. The boy is now in the Janus Thickey Ward."
The children exchanged worried glances.
What's the Janie Thickie Wart? Pansy mouthed.
Draco shrugged, his pointy face wrinkled in confusion.
"You'd think Bagnold would put an end to all this: midnight raids, lists of banned objects found in every cupboard, Aurors throwing Unforgivables left and right. It's been years now and You-Know-Who is well and truly gone," his father said.
"Then why don't you dare speak his name?"
Lucius Malfoy sniffed. The cane handle rapped against the flagstone floor. "Why did you call me down here?"
"A request. If Scrimgeour or Mad Moody or any of that lot decides one of us is an evil dark wizard, I want to protect my family," Pansy's father said. "My little girl is barely five years old. Promise me you'll look after her if I can't."
Pansy shook, her face stark against her black hair. Millicent put a hand on her arm and Draco squeezed her other hand.
"It won't come to that. They've already found you innocent of any actions during the Dark Lord's time due to being under the Imperius Curse."
There was a shared chuckle, but Pansy still looked scared.
"Let them collect their love charms and harmless potion ingredients, while we wait for the Ministry to come to its senses and stop harassing its citizens. Their real citizens; the witches and wizards who have lived and worked and died for our world for generations, not these muggle-borns who waltz in here and assume that seven years at school is sufficient knowledge of an ancient culture to tell us how to run things." Millicent pictured Lucius's sneer, the one Draco imitated so well.
"Does it seem like there are more of them every year that goes by?"
"Yes. I don't know if they're multiplying or if that old fool Dumbledore is specifically seeking them out, muggle-loving fanatic that he is."
Pansy's father sighed. "He does have a soft spot for them."
Lucius barked a laugh. "More likely he's hoping we all forget his involvement with Grindelwald by pretending to be tolerant and open-minded now."
A tray above the children's heads rattled.
"I wouldn't touch that if I was you. Come on, let's see if the firewhiskey in that decanter upstairs is safe to drink."
Millicent let out a breath as the bootsteps and tapping cane retreated up the stairs.
The children exchanged a glance. Millicent squeezed Pansy's arm before she let go. She and Draco were still holding hands, the tray of cupcakes on the floor between them. Millicent pushed the tray aside and crawled out from under the table to stand, brushing dust and doxy droppings from her black skirt. Draco and Pansy followed suit.
Millicent put her arms around the smaller girl. "I won't let anything happen to you, Pansy. I won't let them take you to the Janie Thickie place."
"I won't, either." Draco hugged both girls. "We'll make sure no one touches you."
They stood for a moment leaning on each other, then the three of them traipsed up the stone steps, cupcakes forgotten on the floor.
#
"Marcus looks awfully uncomfortable up there." Millicent watched as the older boy ran a finger underneath the stiff collar of his formal robes.
Beside him at the head table, the other groomsmen were refilling their champagne flutes from a bottle of Ogden's one had tucked in his robe. Oblivious to the shenanigans of his wedding party, Anthony Flint was absorbed in transfiguring each piece of silverware into a flower and presenting them to his bride while the bridesmaids sighed and giggled among themselves.
"When I learn transfiguration next year I'm not wasting magic conjuring flowers." Draco rolled his eyes.
"I think it's sweet." Pansy rested her chin on her hands and watched the bride accept each coloured bloom with a bat of her eyelashes.
Millicent sighed and wished she could conjure flowers out of silverware. She could barely wait for her turn to go to Hogwarts next autumn. Blackie was going to love living in a castle and chasing mice through the dungeons.
Draco picked up his knife and swished it through the air with a practiced flick. "I'm going to conjure snakes and brew Exploding Potion and transfigure beetle buttons. We'll have such fun!"
At the next table, Graham Montague turned sideways in his chair. "Not if McGonagall has anything to say about it. The old battleaxe teaches transfiguration and she's nasty if you look like you're having fun."
Beside him, Hestia and Flora nodded. The matching green bows in their dark hair waved in unison as their heads bobbed.
Millicent exchanged a nervous glance with Pansy and Draco. She had never thought of the teachers as being mean or demanding; she had pictured smiling witches and wizards and happy children learning magic.
"Wait until second year." Hawthorne Parkinson leaned closer to the table of younger children. "McGonagall actually gets harder on the upper year students. Basil says she's a terror in your O.W.L. year."
Pansy's oldest brother nodded before he turned back to watch the wedding party dance beneath floating candles.
"She's got a soft spot for muggle-borns, though." Cassius Warrington shared a look with Hawthorne.
"Yes. We've got one in our year," Hawthorne confirmed. "And McGonagall is always giving him special treatment."
Graham nodded. "She even smiled at him once."
Hestia and Flora leaned their heads together and giggled.
Millicent leaned closer to Pansy. "What's a muggle-born?"
The dark-haired girl huffed. "Someone with muggle parents."
Confused, Millicent tipped her chin. "Why would someone with muggle parents be at Hogwarts? You have to have magic to go."
"They mean mudbloods, Millie," Draco drawled.
"Draco, language," Pansy scolded.
Millicent was still confused. "What are those?"
"You really don't know?" Pansy asked, her brown eyes curious. "You've never heard of someone with magic whose parents are both muggles?"
Millicent felt her jaw drop. "How can muggles have a child who's a witch or wizard?"
"Well, they're not real witches and wizards," Pansy explained. "But they do have magic."
"Drumstrang wouldn't let them in but Hogwarts allows them to attend with the rest of us." Draco frowned. "My father keeps explaining it's dangerous to mix them in but the Board of Governors is scared to oppose Dumbledore. Father thinks it would be safer for me to go to Durmstrang."
"I hope you don't." Millicent tried to imagine going to Hogwarts without one of her best friends.
"Yes, you should stick with us, Draco." Pansy laid a hand on his arm.
He tried to appear unconcerned but Millicent could tell he was pleased they wanted his company. "Well, Mother wants me to stay here and go to Hogwarts but we'll have to be careful because of who they let in."
"Will they start fights and throw rubbish everywhere?" Millicent shuddered at Hogwarts looking like the polluted beach they had visited this summer. It had been littered with dead birds and containers made of strange materials her mother had difficulty vanishing.
"They're dirty and they smell bad." Hestia screwed up her face and her sister matched the expression exactly.
"They're angry a lot, too," Hawthorne said. "They don't know the simplest things and then they snap at you when you try to instruct them."
Cassius nodded. "That Ravenclaw almost bit my head off for explaining how to use a quill. I don't think they have writing."
"They have writing." Basil turned to enter the conversation again. "I overheard a couple of sixth-years talking about that Hufflepuff in their year, who showed them a self-inking writing stick made of something noxious."
It sounded like the same material that washed up on the beach.
"Apparently the self-inking only lasts a little while, then they throw it away and get another one."
When Basil leaned back in his chair, the others did likewise, exchanging awed looks at the strange practices of primitives with no magic.
"I still don't understand how parents with no magic can have a child with magic." Millicent looked at the older boys for an explanation.
Hawthorne shrugged. "Maybe they stole it somehow."
"You can't steal magic." Cassius rolled his eyes.
"It's not much different from squibs, if you think about it," Flora said.
Pansy and Draco exchanged nods.
Millicent tipped her head, considering. It made sense that if witches and wizards sometimes had children with no magic, then non-magical parents could have children that did. "If only you could tell right away if a newborn baby had magic or not," she said thoughtfully. "Then we could send the squibs to live with muggles and they'd never know what they were missing and the magical babies could be raised with witches and wizards and maybe they'd have a chance to learn how to do things right."
"Their brains would still be smaller than real witches and wizards," Pansy noted.
"But at least they'd have parents to teach them proper ways and manners," Millicent said.
Draco smirked. "We could toss the babies out a window and see if they bounce."
Millicent gasped and stared at him. "You can't toss little children out of windows, not even muggles." Sometimes he was mean.
"It worked for Longbottom." Draco pointed at a short, pudgy boy with a smear of chocolate on his left cheek and unfortunate buck teeth who huddled in a chair beside a stern-looking, grey-haired woman. "I heard his uncle tossed him out a window a couple years ago and he bounced. Everyone had given him up for a squib before that happened."
"It was his great-uncle and he claims it was an accident," Pansy sniffed.
"That's horrible!" Millicent watched the round-faced boy take another sweet from a bowl on the table and then drop it when the grey-haired woman frowned at him.
"Maybe he really is a squib and he only bounced because he's fat!" Draco said.
He smirked when Pansy laughed with him but Millicent straightened her shoulders and tried to suck in her stomach. Not that she was fat, just big.
Pansy punched her in the shoulder. "We're just kidding, Millie."
Pansy winked and Millicent smiled back, letting her breath out again.
She thought about some child out there the same age as her with the same signs of wild, uncontrolled magic but no Mummy or Daddy to explain what was happening. "Do you think there'll be a muggle-born in our year?"
"I hope not." Pansy shuddered. "Can you imagine sharing classes every day with one of them? The smell would make me ill."
"And touching things in the classrooms." Draco's nose wrinkled. He looked a lot like his mother when he made that expression.
"At least Greg wouldn't be last in marks, though," Pansy said and they all giggled.
As much as Millicent liked Greg, his slow-wittedness irked her.
"You all don't have to worry about marks, because I'm going to be top of every class." Draco patted his slicked-back platinum hair.
Pansy shoved him sideways in the chair and Millicent shook her head, smiling. As arrogant as her friend was, he was smart. He probably would be top of their class.