Raidho

:journey:

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BLUE WAS UP EARLY AGAIN, sat beside a window in the dorm, staring mindlessly out at the grounds. The sun had barely risen, and most of the Forbidden Forest remained in shadow, a fitting aesthetic for such an ominously named place. She rested her head in her hand, reciting the landmarks she'd memorized. The Quidditch Field. Hagrid's Hut. The Great Lake. They were all painted in shadow, though the sky overhead was clear, and it promised to be yet another sunny day at Hogwarts.

But Blue didn't feel all that sunny. Rain would better suit her current mood. It'd been one week since arriving at Hogwarts, since she'd texted her aunt, and continued to text her every day since, without luck. McGonagall hadn't managed to reach her either. And though Blue's life experience had taught her never to be a hopeful child, she'd been...optimistic. That Aunt Thea would be worried about her only niece disappearing in London. That she'd want to find out what happened, that she'd do whatever it took to track Blue down and get her back. Blue had even wanted her father to contact her, to check in, to see how things were going. But Blue was getting accustomed to the let down.

Her aunt didn't seem to be in a rush to get Blue back, and, once Blue had been sent overseas, it was like her father had forgotten about her.

No one would be coming for her. She was...she was...

"Merlin's beard," Rose huffed into the room, her face red, her arms holding several thick, leather bound books. She was in her student uniform – button-up shirt, red and yellow striped tie, and black wizarding robes. Her hair was frizzier than usual, probably due to the humidity. The past week had been like an extension of summer. "I can't believe him!"

She slammed her books down on her dresser, snarled, and then heaved herself across Blue's bed. Her bedspread reared up like a snake charmed, at the unwelcomed weight of the angered witch.

Blue turned to face her. "What happened?"

"Professor Dirk. Potions master. He reprimanded me because I melted another one of the school's cauldrons." She blew out her cheeks. "He said I don't have the temperament for potions. That I'm too rash. Well," she said, turning towards Blue. Her forehead and cheeks were smudged, the ends of the hair around her chin the tiniest bit burnt. "I think it's stupid that to craft the perfect shrinking potion, you have to stir it seventy-five times clockwise, thirty counter-clockwise, and at a speed that would bore a snail. No kid should have the temperament for that kind of thing. It's bloody torture!"

Blue felt a chuckle tickle the back of her throat, but quickly subdued it. She'd learned over the past days, that when Rose was like this, it was better to let her vent. Despite not knowing James and Rose's Uncle Charlie, he had passed them both sound advice, that Blue had quickly adopted. One didn't prod a dragon and right now, Rose was a bushy-haired Horntail.

"But Albus—" All too late, Blue realized her mistake. By speaking Albus's name, she'd not only prodded the dragon, she'd stuck her head in its mouth, daring it to breathe fire.

Predictably, Rose hissed, her eyes narrow, the fingers of her wand hand twitching.

"Albus what?" she snapped. Blue could envision smoke pouring from her nostrils.

Glancing at her hands, Blue said, "He said the classes here were pretty easy."

Rose rolled her eyes, and slammed back into the bed, arms tucked under her head. "He would say that. He's good at everything he does. Sure to be the brightest wizard of our age." She pouted. "Might as well take up teaching here. There's a post needing filled for a transfigurations' teacher. Professor Potter," she snorted. "I warrant he'd like the sound of it."

"But you're good at all this witchy business too, yeah?" Rose's eyebrows rose. Blue fiddled her thumbs, at having come under Rose's scrutiny. "I mean, you have to be. When you bring me my meals, they're always floating behind you, and you never spill anything. And you seem pretty natural with your wand. You wrist movements always seem so fluid. And—"

Rose jolted upright, her earlier gloominess replaced by a lop-sided grin. "And this is why I adore you." She poked Blue in the shoulder. "You get my genius."

More like Blue understood so very little of the Wizarding World, that any feat involving magic seemed pretty amazing to her. Admittedly, Rose had seemed more at ease practicing her wand movements than anyone else Blue had seen doing the same in the dorms.

"So," Rose's gaze shifted toward the window. "Spy anything new?"

Blue shook her head. "Same trees. Same grass. Same lake." A sigh rattled between Blue's teeth.

"Nothing from your aunt?"

She shook her head, her fingers tightening around the phone in her lap. She'd sent Thea a message as soon as she'd gotten up, a variant on the one she'd been sending. Aunt T. I'm safe. At a place near Dufftown called Hogwarts. It's the school I mentioned before. The principal here, Mrs. McGonagall, is looking after me. She's been trying to reach you too. Get back to me. I can't wait to go home. I hope all is well. Bluebird.

Rose frowned momentarily, before fixing her mouth into a grin. It was tighter than her usual, loose, silly smile. Forced. "She'll respond."

Blue's heart sank, but, at the same time, her lips curved upward. "Yeah," she agreed.

Suddenly, Rose bolted off the bed, her wand tip glowing a bright red. She straightened her robes, her gaze flitting to the door.

Blue looked between her and the door. "What's—"

"James's fun-drainer charm is on the fritz." Her wand tip blinked furiously.

"Which means..."

"It means," said Rose seriously, "something is about to drain all our fun. And it only ever goes off this much when it's—"

Before she could finish, Mrs. McGonagall appeared in the doorway. She walked in, arms folded across her chest. Her square glasses perched high atop her nose.

Rose's wand tip burst red, before, with a pop it returned to its normal, non-glowing stance.

McGonagall frowned. "Skipping class again, Miss Weasley?" She glanced between Rose and Blue, while Rose pocketed her wand. "It's admirable that you're so concerned with our guest, but you ought not be ignoring your studies. Especially with your OWLs approaching."

Blue's eyes darted to Rose as realization broke over her. "You've been purposely getting in trouble to check up on me?"

"No," Rose shook her head, guiltily. "Not entirely. But..." she glanced at her hands, and rubbed the fabric of her robes between them. "You are all alone up here, all day, and that's got to be more boring than one of Professor Binn's lectures so I thought—"

Blue smiled, no effort required. "Thank you."

Rose's eyes widened, and then her face was split wide by a wondrous grin.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Yes, well, to tell you the truth, I've been worried about Miss Turner's circumstance as well."

They both turned to face the teacher. Her back grew stiffer, if such a thing was possible. Blue always thought McGonagall had a posture that would disgrace a brick wall. "Of course I'd worry. Isolation is never good for one's mind or body."

Rose perked up. "So Blue's going to be able to go around the school?" She flashed a hopeful grin. "If so, I'll be her escort."

"I believe," McGonagall said, scowling. "You and Mr. Potter have already escorted Blue around the school."

Rose gulped, her cheeks solar-flaring with embarrassment, and returned her attention to her hands, counting each of the freckles to make sure everything was in proper working order.

"But, as it stands, I don't know when Miss Turner will return to her world," Blue felt the air around her constrict. She didn't know if she'd ever be returned to her world. "and it is unfair to keep her up here. I'm sure, Miss Turner, there are things you are needing?"

Blue nodded.

"Very good." She stepped forward and handed over a letter to Blue.

"What's this?"

"I'm in need of a few things as well. This weekend, the students are journeying into Hogsmeade, a wizarding village not far from here. You have my permission to go with Miss Weasley and get what you require. And," she pointed at the paper in Blue's hands, "get what I require as well. Miss Weasley," Rose's head snapped up, "I assume you'd be willing to assist Miss Turner with the items on my list?"

"You bet." She glanced at Blue. "You're gonna love Hogsmeade." She winked.

"Good, it's settled. From now on, Miss Turner, you have access to all of Hogwarts, but do so supervised, in case—"

"In case you get your feet stuck in any more stairs," added Rose, giggling.

"Or one of the rugs decides I'd make a tasty snack?" Blue fired back. The two girls stared at each other, before bursting into laughter.

"Allegedly, remember?" said Rose between chuckles.

"Allegedly, right," said Blue, shaking her hair. McGonagall, cleared her throat, the older witch all but forgotten because friendships, even early on, once forged, can prove to be wonderous, and slightly myopic ventures.

Blue, remembering the older witch standing there with shoulders as stiff as her office's chairs, stopped laughing and addressed her, "Thank you."

The briefest smile swept across McGonagall's face, her deeper, harsher wrinkles momentarily softened. Her gaze floated between Rose and Blue and somehow Blue got the feeling that she approved of them together, their combined silliness included. "You're welcome, Miss Turner." She glanced once at the phone in Blue's lap, her mouth hardening into a line, before turning and sweeping out of the room.

Rose skipped over to Blue, took her hands in her own, and together, they twirled. "Hogsmeade. Your first wizarding village. This is going to be awesome!" With the way Rose's eyes glittered so earnestly, Blue honestly, believed it would be.

*

Journeying into Hogsmeade that Saturday, Blue's excitement could hardly be contained. And though the destination was a wizarding village, she'd been reassured, that nothing there would try to eat her. No stairs for her feet to sink into, no shifting alleyways, no dangerous forest at the village's edge.

As James had remarked, Hogsmeade was 'perfectly suitable for a squishy Muggle like herself.'

Lush green foliage rolled past the window, all signs of fall absent from emerald trees, and shimmering pines. Grass swayed against a backdrop of almost perfectly clear blue sky. The world outside was calm and peaceful, but the same could not be said of their train compartment, where five had been shoved into a space clearly designed with a four person maximum.

Rose straightened her back to scowl at James over Blue's head. "You're doing it on purpose."

"Doing what?" asked James, whose trademarked smirk did a great disservice when he tried to make anything he said seem genuine. It had the great effect of doing the opposite, in fact.

"Pushing against Blue to get me to fall out of the seat."

"If you fall out, it's because your bum's too big."

Rose's mouth flopped open, her ears as red as her lips. "I'll have you know my bum's perfect. Tight, round. Supple." Albus shook his head as Rose continued, "Lots of people admire my bum."

"It's big, and if you fall out of the seat, that's your reason. Nothing else."

She huffed and turned around, her eyes landing on the book in Albus's lap. Releasing a huff, she slapped the book. "And what's that? Studying on a Saturday?"

Albus snapped his book shut, narrowly missing closing it on Rose's hand. "Yes," he said, exasperatedly. "Something you ought to try once in a while."

Rose blew out her cheeks. "No thanks." She turned to Blue who felt like she was Rose's last resort in the compartment. "You excited for Hogsmeade?" she asked, her tone noticeably softer.

Blue nodded. "Yes and," her eyes shifted over to James, "You're certain nothing there is dangerous?"

James shrugged. "I mean there's the legend of the shrieking shack." Shrieking Sack? Blue jumped in her seat. James shook his head. "Don't worry. It's gone now, dusted. But they do say the unhoused ghosts haunt the alleys of Hogsmeade."

"Don't ghosts haunt the halls of Hogwarts?"

"Well, yeah," James said, fumbling for words, "But these ones are a bad lot. None to pleasant. Angry and howling at all hours of the day."

"Annoying," said Rose, eyes narrowed on her cousin. "Much like someone else in this compartment."

"They're nothing like the ones at Hogwarts, is all," continued James, ignoring Rose. "Take pervy Myrtle who watches Al in the bath." His large hand settled on his brother's head, and ruffled his hair. It didn't take much before Albus's black locks were sticking every which way from his head.

Al flicked him away before attempting to undo the havoc James had created. 

"There are ghosts that will watch you bathe?"

"Just Al," James said. "Sometimes Malfoy over there. Imagine she doesn't get far with him, probably uses some dark magic his dad taught him to rip her apart."

The book in Scorpius's hand slammed shut. His eyes glinted like steel in firelight as he stared at James. Rose drew in a breath, and everyone braced, as if a storm was blowing into their compartment. 

James smirked, but it looked crueler now, more sinister. "Oh, you want to dispute that? Claim you don't know all about dark magic? What's next?" He cocked his head Rose's way and nudged her arm. She flushed, but that was the extent of her acknowledgement. "You gonna try and say daddy and mummy didn't spend a fortune just to get you admitted into Hogwarts? That you were accepted on merit alone? That the Ministry overlooked all your family being stalwart arse-kissers of you-know-who, branded with the dark mark, just so their little baby boy could get a proper wizarding education?"

"James—" Al blurted, but Scorpius was sneering, his pale face ghost-white, his eyes like bubbling mercury.

"Funny, coming from you," he drawled. Blue could count on one hand the times she'd heard Scorpius speak. Aside from that first day on the train, and the few words he exchanged with Rose in McGonagall's office he was quiet. She'd seen little of him and Albus for that matter seeing how they were in a different house. But the coldness in his voice shocked her. "Considering you wouldn't have gotten anything if not for you being the son of the Boy Who Lived."

Blue fell back into her seat, surprised by the screeching she heard rising off both Scorpius and James. It hit her all at once, the hate, the anger, the resentment. It distorted their songs, gave their notes bite. It clawed at her brain like a ferocious beast, that wanted to devour her from the inside out.

"Sit with your lot, Malfoy. I'm sure the Slytherin trash miss their prince."

Scorpius straightened in his seat, matching James in imposing size. Had Blue's head not been being drilled by both boy's anger, she would have acknowledged she never knew how tall Scorpius was. He always was slouching or leant against something and in that way, very un-statue-like. "I'm sitting with my friend, Potter."

Albus snapped up, his face flushed, his gaze flitting like an agitated fly between his brother and his friend.

Blue's vision dimmed, and she rocked forward, the pain excruciating. Mrs. McGonagall had given her charmed headphones to help diminish the songs, but the anger, the emotion in both of them was too strong.

Rose grabbed her arm. "You okay?"

"Thei-their songs," Blue stumbled to get the words out, "They're—"

Both James and Scorpius exchanged confused looks.

Rose glowered. "You gits!" she rounded on them, wand out. "Look what you did! Your stupid, bloody row is causing Blue to—"

"Rosie," Albus laid a gentle palm on his cousin's arm. "if songs are what's bothering her, don't you think keeping an even-temper is ideal?"

Rose's gaze drifted between him and Blue, before, with a huff, she placed her wand back in her pocket. "Gits."

Squeezing her eyes tight, Blue listened as the songs returned to normal. No awkward swells or rushed crescendos. She blew out, the throbbing in her head no more than a dull ache.

"Turner—" said James. Her eyes snapped open. He was facing her, his gaze unavoidable, and so direct it made Blue shiver in her socks. "I—" 

Rose grabbed Blue's arm and pulled her up. "No," she hissed. "You don't get to apologize." Turning to Blue, she showered her with a smile. "Why don't we track down that trolley? I have a few Knuts. Pumpkin pasties on me."

Blue nodded and let herself be led away. 

Finally, the Express squeaked to a stop. The compartments rocked gently forward, and two whistles blared throughout. The time to disembark had come. Filing out of their compartment, James at her back, and Rose at her front, Blue was led into Hogsmeade.

*

Scorpius pushed through the crowd as the train goers disembarked, determined to leave the scene of his outburst as quickly as he could. Albus stumbled to match his gaze, the other wizard's legs shorter and incapable of matching Scorpius's much longer stride. But he couldn't slow, not even for his best mate, not so long as he could see her.

Curly, black hair. Sweat slicking her dark skin. Eyes widened and terrified. Because of him. Because of something he couldn't control.

He sneered to himself, reaching out and wrenching the door to Zonko's open.

The moment he was inside, an alarm started to blare.

Cornelius Cavendish, working the register, hopped to attention and flew over the countertop. "Sorry about that, boys," the pimply-faced teen said as Albus shuffled to Scorpius's side. "Thing's been on the fritz for a while now." He reached a wiry arm up and yanked the alarm from the wall. With a dying hiss, silence was returned to the store. "There, quiet." Taking the alarm, wires hanging from its plastic shell like guts, he eyed the pair of them. "You need help with anything?"

Scorpius moved briskly past him, his tolerance for any sort of pleasantry, feigned or otherwise, long since gone.

Albus shot the clerk a smile, before shaking his head. "No, I think we're good, Cornelius."

Shrugging, the boy turned, and hurried back to the counter.

Albus glanced nervously at Scorpius.

"What?" asked Scorpius. He eyed a display of Dungbombs, these ones of a special variety. Two dozen, complete with a limited edition Frog Soap pack. All for thirteen Sickles. A steal, really.

"It's bothering you, isn't it?"

He returned his attention to his friend and shook his head. "No. I barely ever listen to your prat of a brother."

"Not James." Albus shook his head. "He says stuff like that to you all the time. But what happened with Blue—"

Scorpius frowned, his hands balled into fists.

"It wasn't your fa—"

"Of course it wasn't," he snapped, stomping toward a shelf of exploding pops. "It's not my fault she can hear our songs."

In truth, when he learned of her ability, it freaked him out. Her hearing their magic, sensing their emotions. When she'd told him his song was uncertain, reluctant, he had wanted to scream at her. What did she know? A muggle, who wandered aboard a train and got herself exposed to the magical world she had no right being a part of, what did she know of his magic? Of him? How dare she assume she knew anything about him.

He picked up a pack of Hiccough Sweets, turned over the package and tossed it back on the shelf without ever looking at it.

"Scorp—"

Albus stood at his side, a pack of sugar quills in his hands. His eyes weren't condemning or angry. Just concerned. Typical behavior of his best mate.

Scorpius sighed, his gaze drifting to the window. The sun was setting, the street lights blinking on. This was the peaceful village she should have gotten to see first. The coziness, the warmth, the delight of the magic world, before he exposed her to all its dangers.

All he had to do was keep his composure, and he'd flown off the handle just like—a dragon. James's taunts had made his blood boil, his heart pound. He'd balled his hands into fists, determined to wipe that smirk off his face, wand or no.

His eyes flicked back toward Albus. "I don't know how to apologize."

At this, Albus brightened. "You could say you're sorry. You know, instead of sulking around in Zonko's."

"I'm not sulking." His eyebrow arched as he placed his hands over his chest.

Albus chuckled. "Mate, whether or not you're aware, you sulk whenever you're bothered. It's not pretty." He glanced around, his eyes landing on a trio of young witches, who were staring at Scorpius with goofy grins and flushed faces, "Makes the women go wild though. I warrant you'll be getting three new love letters by owl come tomorrow."

He snorted and waved his friend off dismissively. Although, Albus was probably right. Owls had been delivering letters to him more recently. Scented with perfumes or containing rose-flavored chocolate cauldrons. He feared what would happen next Valentine's Day.

Last year, Makena Goldcorn, a sixth year Slytherin, gave unsolicited tours of the boy's dorm, passing out complimentary pairs of Scorpius's drawers to those customers of hers who paid extra.

Glancing at his hands, he remembered the first time he'd seen Blue. On the Express, doubled over and begging for it to end. "She deserved to see the beauty of the wizarding world—"

"And she is," Albus stressed. "Right now, Rosie's dragging her around everywhere."

He glanced at his hands. Before he'd gone to Hogwarts, he'd seen the beauty of the wizarding world. When he rode his father's broomstick and they watched the stars together. When he helped his mother tend the roses in the Manor's gardens before her illness became too much.

It was only once he enrolled in Hogwarts that he realized how everything was different. How magic was a curse and bearing the Malfoy name was as good as having the Dark Mark etched into your forearm. He had been sentenced to be the second coming of Draco Malfoy, shackled to his father's ghost, before given the chance to prove himself different.

And now he'd flown off the handle and hurt Blue.

His nails dug into his palms. "Hurting those around me." He snarled. "I'm no better than him."

"Scorp—" Albus's hand landed on his shoulder.

Scorpius pulled away, his gaze darting to the quills in Al's hand. "That all you getting, mate?" He turned, headed toward the aisle where they stocked the sugar wands. "You'll need twice that with the OWLs coming up."

Sighing, Albus fell in behind him, his footsteps ringing out in the quiet shop. "And I need to get some Hiccough Sweets too." Scorpius arched his brows. Albus shrugged. "For Lily."

He smiled at his friend, thankful they had moved beyond the matter of Blue. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his father, and how, despite his best effort, they were more alike than he cared to admit.

I am not him, he thought. I will never be him. My father's son.  

*

Hogsmeade was an old village of stone buildings with wood accents. It had a quaint, if not normal atmosphere. The small town vibes sent a ripple of longing through Blue. 

Her hometown had been small, a main road dividing it in half, and filled with shops and little else. Hogsmeade, she sensed, was similar in that way, but drastically different in another – it was magical. A safe haven for wizards and witches carved out in the English countryside.

Shops, the kind that warranted the use of old, forgotten spellings like 'shoppe' lined the main road. There were places like Gladrags, a sock emporium that held, to Blue's amazement all manner of socks, more than she thought possible. From ankle-length, to mid-thigh, to every color of the rainbow, and then some Blue wasn't sure had been found through science, to odd patterns of crooked-toothed giants, to bat-winged eared elves. To socks in threes, for when the inevitable occurred and one was lost forever to the depths of a dryer.

Blue had to be pulled from her spot on the ground by Rose, to the next shop, and the location of several items on McGonagall's list. Scrivenshaft's was a quill shop, the magical equivalent of a stationary store. Several exotic feather quills lined rich red satin in the window. Some quills were dyed with patterns – tiger strips, flames, even runes. Others were marked as natural – these were the kind made from bird's Blue had heard of – owl, ostrich, peacock. The most expensive quill was a bright orangish one, said, if the tag was to be believed, to be of real phoenix feather.

Blue stumbled into the little shop behind Rose. McGonagall's list called for a dozen rolls of parchment (eight ft in length), one dozen ostrich quills, 1 1"4 in tips, two dozen peacocks, 11/2" rounded tips, two dozen pots of universal black ink, one dozen scarlet, and three crates of envelopes, stamped with the school's coat of arms.

The man at the counter, a squat wizard in green overalls trimmed with a bright red said, that for Headmistress McGonagall, the items would be magically shipped to the school free of charge. From there, they toured the post office, where James had been coming out of, having sent two dozen sonnets to enough girls to make up its own Quidditch team. (he sited giving Artemis a break, as the reason for the delivery using other owls). Both Rose and James were excited to stop at Honeydukes, though McGonagall's list didn't call for anything the store offered.

After getting scared off at an exploding bonbon demonstration, Blue returned outside. The weather more biting as the sun descended. She closed her flannel, and paced the streets. The Wizarding Village was sparsely populated save for the crowd mulling about outside The Hog's Head. Warm light flooded through the glass windows, that showed people laughing and clinking glasses of ale. It looked like a nice place, despite the sign hanging over the door that had a severed boar's head, leaking blood onto a white cloth around it.

But if Blue had learned anything during her stay in the Wizarding World it was that wizards and witches were weird. A severed head on a sign to them might not seem macabre but charming.

Blue continued to walk the street, peering into shop windows, mesmerized by all the village offered. She passed a place called Gladrags whose front window was filled with socks – long and short, frilled and ribbed, with different patterns and colors. Madam Puddifoot's a little café, with decorative china piled high in its window, was adorned in pastels, and lace. Blue saw a few couples leaving the store with rosy cheeks, hand in hand.

She followed the street back to the station, and then turned in the direction of a voice.

"Come on Grendel," it said.

Blue followed the sound of a voice into an adjacent alley. A blonde girl was crouched down in front of a grey cat who kept its distance. The two seemed to be engaged in a staring match. Blue slowly approached.

The girl wore a rounded pair of glasses, one lens pink, the other tinted blue. She wore a floral dress over skinny jeans and a fringed, hot pink jacket. Beetle-shaped earrings dangled from her ears. She offered her hand to the cat, who arched its back and hissed.

It finally dawned on Blue the girl was offering the cat breadcrumbs for some odd reason.

"It's good for you."

Blue chuckled lightly, causing the girl to turn. Her wide, blue eyes blinked slowly, as if drinking Blue in.

"Sorry," said Blue, feeling sheepish. She took a step back and turned toward the main street. She was about to leave, when she felt compelled to turn around. "You know, cats don't eat breadcrumbs."

The girl glanced at her head. "But they're seasoned." Her mouth downturned into a confused frown. "Mum assured me cats liked them."

Blue moved closer, shaking her head. Both the girl and the cat watched her movements with reserved interest. "Birds like breadcrumbs. Cats? Not so much. They're carnivorous."

"Ah," the girl pocketed the breadcrumbs, rocking forward on her sneakers. "Like Marvin."

"What?"

"Marvin," the girl drawled. "Our houseplant. Eats flies." She turned and faced Blue, the cat relaxing. It sat on its haunches, grey-stripped tail curled around its front paws. "I don't know you, do I?"

Blue shook her head. "I don't think so."

"You found Xen," said Rose.

Xen shook her head, her beetle earrings dancing. "She found me. Told me cats don't eat breadcrumbs."

James's shook his head. "Course they don't, Longbottom. What's wrong with—"

He yelped as Rose's elbow collided with his ribs.

"Want to join us?" she said, ignoring her cousin's pained expression. "We're getting a few things for McGonagall."

Xen's gaze drifted over them all. "That sounds lovely."

"What's left on your list, Blue?"

She glanced at the paper in her hand. They'd gotten almost everything except..."Oozy Boozies." She frowned. "Whatever those are."

Gathering her hand, Rose pulled Blue forward. "To Flour Dust then."

"What's Flour Dust?"

James looped his arm over Blue's shoulders, much to Rose's chagrin, "It's only the single best wizarding bakery in the world."

A wizarding bakery? At so many times through her stay at Hogwarts, Blue thought she'd seen everything. A hungry carpet? Now, she'd seen everything. A giant? Okay, now she'd seen everything.

But at the inclusion of a magical bakery, Blue became all too aware that she hadn't in fact seen everything. She'd seen very little, and, despite the dangers, was very keen on seeing more.