With a Little Help from My Friends

Lucille in the Sky with Dumb Guys

As Veronica and Molly sat chatting in a compartment of the Hogwarts' Express, Lucille was tugging her skirt back down over her hips, a relieved grin on her face. Her clothes showed no visible sign of her affliction and as further damage control, she had charmed her Mary Quant skirt black and was congratulating herself on her resourcefulness. She only hoped that Minerva would be able to charm it back to its original colour later, as she had been rather fond of that print.

When Lucille emerged from her cubicle, the woman applying lip gloss in front of the mirror was still there. Their eyes met and they both smiled. "Funny, I could have sworn that when you went in, you were wearing a bright blue skirt with green and yellow plaid. Strange that."

"Well, I'm out here and very much in a black skirt," Lucille said, gesturing down at her outfit. "Although I hear this fluorescent lighting can be notoriously harsh on the retina."

"Hmm," the woman nodded, reaching into her handbag. As Lucille bent over the sink to wash her hands, she sneaked one last look at the woman. Her bathroom companion had pulled out a bottle of prescription pills and was reading the label carefully. She fought down the urge to laugh. Arthur was right. Muggles were cute sometimes.

* * * * *

"So, Arthur, what ees to be done about zis car?"

Arthur and Thierry had successfully navigated central London (Arthur had insisted on driving, not flying, Sacred Blue because it added to the experience) and parked the Volkswagon down a side street next to the station. Thierry was carefully lifting his beloved Cleansweep Two out of the bonnet when it had occurred to him that Arthur could not take the car with him.

"Don't worry, I've already considered that," Arthur said cheerfully. That his brilliant but absent-minded friend had planned far enough in advance to actually decide what to do about the car not only showed how much he was infatuated with it, but was nothing short of miraculous, Thierry reflected. "Hector Black will pick it up on his way back from work this afternoon. He said he's going into the office to catch up on some paperwork, so it's no trouble." Arthur tapped the side of his nose. "Connections again, you see."

"Right." Thierry shrugged and tucked Emmanuel under one arm, then picked up his broomstick and suitcase with the other. It was ironic that Arthur, with his loathing of the superficial, had befriended one of the most influential pureblood families in Britain.

It was ten to by the time they reached the station. This was largely because Thierry kept on having to prod and push Arthur along, who was stopping every few feet to exclaim over the miraculous nature of the Muggle world. "Look, Thierry, that's a dummy in that baby's mouth! That's what they use to keep it from crying instead of the Pacifius charm! How extraordinary!" Thierry was relieved to find the station empty. Well, mostly empty.

A blonde woman in her thirties was scurrying up to them, her eyes wide with worry. "Excuse me," she gasped. "Have you seen a little redhaired girl about this high-" she make a gesture near her waist "-and wearing a yellow dress with a collar?"

Arthur shook his head apologetically. "Where was the last place you remember seeing her?" he asked.

He was attempting to be helpful, but the worry in the woman's eyes only increased. "I don't know where she could be. She knows not to wander off. She was right next to me-"

"Eet's alright," Thierry stepped forward, placing a hand upon her shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes now glistening with unshed tears. "Now, what ees yer name?"

"Moira Evans," she said, her eyes still soft with tears.

"Now, Moira, I am sure we weel find votre fille soon," Thierry soothed. Under his gaze the woman visibly relaxed. With his sharp features and two crooked front teeth, Thierry was hardly conventionally good-looking, but the Veela in him came out when he smiled. "Now, I am goin' ter put ma 'and upon yer forehead, an' I need yer to relax an' close yer eyes."

By now Moira was also smiling. "Are you a mystic?" she asked, her eyes now gleaming with awe.

"He's not a mystic, he's a wizard," Arthur blurted out.

"I am most certainment not," Thierry said, wishing he was close enough to elbow Arthur.

"No, he's almost a fully-qualified wizard, and he's one of the best students in our year," Arthur insisted. "Thierry, a mystic is what Trelawney is, don't sell yourself short."

Moira looked apprehensive. Thierry gave Arthur a sharp look. "Ma friend is un peu d'un jokaire," he beamed, now faced with the task of undoing Arthur's bad work. His hand slipped down and began to rub her arm. "I guess yer could say je suis un mystique - of sorts. Eef yer close yer eyes an' concentrate all yer thoughts upon yer daughtaire, I can use ma innaire eye to find 'er location."

"Wow," Moira beamed. Thierry placed a tanned palm over her forehead and she obediently closed her eyes. His free hand pulled his wand out the sleeve of his turtleneck and he whispered a complex series of charms over her. He too closed his eyes, then they popped open with the sudden acquisition of a piece of information. "Post office near ze newspapers down ze back, second shop to ze right," he hissed to Arthur. The redhead nodded and broke into a jog down the corridor.

The girl, a redhead with striking green eyes that already showed promise of becoming an exceptional beauty, was exactly where Thierry said she would be, curled into a ball on the floor and sniffing into her teddy bear. She jumped when he touched her shoulder, but after he had spoken to her for a moment, tentatively held out her arms for him to pick her up. Thierry and the woman were still in the same position when he returned. At the sight of her Moira screamed, "Lily!" and scooped her up into her arms. "Oh, thank you, thank you, so much!" she gasped. "You truly are gifted! May you be truly blessed."

"Likewise," Thierry said, bending down to drop a kiss on her cheek. Moira blushed and giggled. Arthur also said his farewells, then the two boys resumed pushing their trolleys along the corridor. As soon as they were out of sight Thierry gave Arthur a playful wack around the back of his head. "Arthur, Arthur, mon pauvre garcon," he said solemnly, a grin betraying his tone. "What a theeng ter say at a time like zat. "Ee's not a mystic, ee eez a wizard." No wondaire we cannot find yer a decent woman."

"Not all of us have the fortune to be part-Veela," Arthur told him, grinning back. Only a close friend like Thierry could say things like that and not be hurtful. "Since I regretfully cannot use magical means to dupe witches into letting me into their beds - let's call a wand a wand, shall we, you're no looker yourself-"

"No lookaire?" Thierry pretended to be shocked. "Yer are one ter talk-"

"-I suppose that in order to win over my fair lady's heart, I will just have to rely on good old-fashioned English charm," Arthur continued.

"Engleesh charm?" Thierry scoffed. "What Engleesh charm? Ees zat un oxymoron? Now le francais, we 'ave charm."

"If that's what you call bewitching poor unsuspecting virgins with your wicked Veela ways, then fair enough," Arthur shrugged. He was one of the few people who could get the upper hand against Thierry.

"Weel, 'aving magicale charm eez bettaire zan 'aving no charm at all, as yer may weel realise, ma red 'eaded friend. Du rosboeuf-" He broke off abruptly as they turned a corner. An unusual sight greeted them. A skinny girl with long auburn hair was pushing along a tubby boy, who was hopping in a very awkward gait. Her free hand was pushing a trolley laden with battered brown cases. "Oh, do come on, Frank," she was saying. "The train is due to leave at any minute now. How you manage to get hit by a leg-locking curse from Lucius Malfoy every single year, I'll never know-"

"Lucille!" Arthur cried, running and catching her up in a hug. Unfortunately in doing so, he removed the main support third year Frank Longbottom had. The boy lost what little equilibrium he had ever had to begin with, let alone when he was being afflicted by the Rigor Mortus curse, and all three of them went tumbling to the floor.

Thierry strode forward and sought to untangle the confusion of limbs. Judging the pixie-like Lucille to be the biggest liability if one of the boys rolled the wrong way, he stopped before her and extended his arm. She was wearing a black outfit that he had initially thought to be a dress, but on closer inspection was a separate top and skirt. She had never worn skirts anywhere near that short before - if so he would have surely remembered because she had, he realised, fantastic legs. At the sight of him her face closed itself up like a fan, and her hand shook as she slid it into his much-larger palm. "Thank you," she said stiffly once he had pulled her to her feet, then, "You can let go of me now."

"Bien sur," Thierry said, resisting the urge to drop into a sarcastic bow. "Arthur, Longbottom, eez everytheeng een ordaire down zere?"

"Er, does anyone know the counter for the leg-locking curse?" Frank asked timidly.

Arthur glanced at Thierry, who shook his head. "Afraid not," Arthur said. "We'll just have to get you to the train, Minerva will surely know." He grabbed one arm, Thierry took the other, and with Lucille puffing along behind a trolley laden with the three boys' cases, made their way to platform Nine and Three-Quarters as quickly as they could. Despite their efforts, they arrived to find the wall as rock-solid as any other. "Putain!" Thierry swore, banging his fist against the wall.

"What did you just call me?" Lucille asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Eet ees joost une figure de speech," he told her sourly, adding under his breath, "except maybe not dans toi case." Arthur was running his hand thoughtfully along the brick wall, and Frank was propped up upon the baggage cart, looking completely woebegone. "Now 'ow are we going to get to 'Ogwarts?"

Arthur and Lucille's eyes met. Arthur was wearing an expression of child-like eagerness; Lucille looked horrified. "Not the summer project-" she began.

"The summer project!" Arthur confirmed joyfully.

"Oh, dear Merlin, no," Lucille moaned. "There is no way I am getting into that thing."

"But, Lucille, it's perfect!" Arthur cried, grabbing her wrist in excitement. "The brakes work properly now, I've given her a fresh coat of paint and buffed and shined her-"

"Her?" Lucille squealed. "Her? What latent hatred towards our gender causes men to name inanimate man-made objects after us?"

"-And listen, Lucille," Arthur's face was less than a foot away from hers, "I've installed an Invisibility Booster." Thierry glanced down at Frank and winked. The third year, not used to being treated in such a friendly manner by the senior boys, started, then returned a tentative smile. "Now what an Invisibility Booster does is makes the car visibly disappear, so that when I fly it-"

"You mean, you honestly expect me to get into something that you made fly?" Lucille shrieked. People were starting to stare at them. "Arthur, do you remember what happened to my transistor radio?"

"But that was an one-off," he tried to placate her. "An electrical faulting or something. Lucille, I promise the car won't suddenly start singing "God save the Queen," do the can-can and dive out the window. And I'm sure there was a logical explanation for that. It was probably just suicidal after all the Supremes songs you were playing on it."

"Don't insult my taste in music!" Two bright spots had appeared on Lucille's cheeks.

Privately, Thierry didn't blame Lucille for her reaction. He and Arthur had flown to London in the Sacred Blue without a hitch, but with all the talk of electrical appliances becoming suicidal and hurling themselves through windows, he was starting to feel slightly queasy himself. However, there was no other option. "Arthur, Lucille, enough," he said. "Zere eez no odaire way. We are going een Arthur's car an' flying to 'Ogwarts."

"I'm not," Lucille said, folding her arms stubbornly under a rather meagre bust. "I don't care if I have to walk the entire way to Scotland, I'm not risking my neck in that thing."

"Very weel, zen," he said, abruptly picking her up and dumping her over his shoulder. Instantly she began to squirm, but his hands found her upper thighs and the crook of her knees, holding her securely in place. "Put me down," she ordered. "This is most undignified! So happy to see that your misogynist Quidditch jock, cave-wizard mentality is finally out in the open, Thierry. Veronica and Molly wouldn't think you were so wonderful if they could see you now. Oh isn't it so like men, to resort to physical force and violence when their pathetic attempts at reason - no surprise there - fail..."

This continued for some time. Arthur, lucky man, was meanwhile having a measurably more pleasant conversation with Frank Longbottom on how he was sure there was a counter-curse somewhere in his texts.

Thierry didn't deposit Lucille until they reached the car. The instant she had her feet on solid ground she aimed a kick at the French boy, who with his swift Quidditch reflexes dodged quite easily. Instead her foot connected with the parking meter, which resulted in a torrent of swear words that continued even after Arthur had cast a numbing charm over the tip of her boot.

"Ow long weel eet take to reach 'Ogwarts?" Thierry asked Arthur as he heaved suitcases into the car's bonnet.

"Oh, we should be there around four if we catch a favourable wind," Arthur approximated, tenderly wiping some minuscule smudges off the front window. "Obviously with the rest of the school arriving after dark, it won't look too good to actually show up at the school then, so we'll just have to stay at Hogsmeades for a few hours. Won't Mum be surprised to see me!"

Lucille's stomach twisted. They would be in that stupid car for almost five hours! Her tissues wouldn't hold up that long! She had left her purse with Molly and had no money to buy anything with, let alone had seen a place where she could actually purchase what she needed. All she could hope was that the Sacred Blue's seats had vinyl covers. This was no good. She had to tell someone. However, the scene in front of her wasn't exactly brimming with possibilities. Arthur would blush and start stammering like a stuck record and as for Frank, well, there was a reason he always seemed to be in the wrong place when Slytherins were flinging curses around. They wouldn't be of any help at all. A decision made, she took a deep breath and tugged on the t-shirt sleeve next to her. "Thierry, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Thierry gave her a suspicious look, but obliged and walked a small distance away from the other two. Rising on her toes so that she could reach his ear, Lucille whispered, "J'ai mes regles."

"Oh. Okay." Thierry pulled away from her slightly, and she saw that his cheeks were turning red. She could feel herself blushing as well. "Do oo not 'ave anyteeng for eet?" Lucille shook her head. "Okay," Thierry repeated. "I weel see what I can do. Wait 'ere."

Arthur was still flicking through his text, trying to locate the counter curse. Thierry walked over to his suitcase and rummaged around in it, eventually coming up with a scroll of paper. Lucille squinted, puzzled. That would hardly be of any help. He returned and glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then held his wand over the paper and said, "Menstruae containium." The paper transfigured into a sanitary pad. "When yer 'ave two oldere seesters oo are part-Veela, yer learn zees zings," Thierry, looking slightly chagrined, explained at her shocked expression. "We weel not mention eet again."

"Thank you," Lucille said, gratefully tucking the pad into her skirt pocket and running off in the direction of the ladies' rooms.

When she had returned, the other three were settling into the Sacred Blue. They had put Frank sideways in the back seat (Lucille gathered that Arthur had been unsuccessful in his search for a counter curse) with Emmanuel and Errol, Arthur's owl, and crammed the bonnet with suitcases to the point where one of Arthur's shoelaces was holding it shut. Arthur was driving, Thierry had taken the passenger seat and she was to sit on his lap. He looked uncomfortable with the arrangement, which was understandable given her condition. However, there was nothing anyone could do about it.

"Seat belts!" Arthur said primly, basking in the moment. Frank gave him a confused look, but Thierry reached behind him and pulled a black strip of fabric across his upper body, then attached it somewhere near his right hip. "I don't want to be responsible for any concussions when we reach Hogwarts."

"What about me?" Lucille pouted.

"I suppose I will joost 'ave to be yer seatbelt, sucre," Thierry told her, grinning evilly. Since she would be in forced close confinement with him for the rest of the day, he figured he may as well take the opportunity to annoy her. "Do not be afraid, I 'ave a very strong grip."

"That's what I am afraid of," Lucille grumbled under her breath, perching daintily on his lap and trying to keep her upper body as far away from his as possible.

Arthur drove until he found a deserted street (which took a while, being in the centre of London), then pressed the Invisibility Booster, sending the Sacred Blue into the deep blue. The invisibility function was amazing, Lucille thought. She could touch the vinyl-covered dashboard with her fingers, felt Arthur's hand brush against her leg as he shifted the joystick, but for all she could actually see, she may have been just a pair of eyeballs floating in the sky. London spiralled away below them, a patchwork quilt of streets with a blue ribbon of river waving through its middle. The wind waffled through her hair...

"Lucille, eef you do not get yer 'air out of ma visage, I veel cut eet off." Thierry's voice shattered the mood. Safe in the knowledge he could not see her, Lucille flipped him the bird and twisted her hair into a bun, then stuck it down the neck of her top.

"Lucille, did oo joost give moi ze feenger joost then?" Her mouth fell open. How on earth did he know that?

Behind the wheel Arthur smiled. Thierry and Lucille were bickering beside him, and a Longbottom was tucked away in the back under some form of curse inflicted by a Slytherin wand. In short, it was just like old times. However, something was missing. His hand skirted across the front of the dashboard until he found what he was looking for. Soon a crisp, upbeat guitar sound filled the tiny car. "It's a radio!" he called to Thierry and Frank, guessing the Beatlemania-afflicted Lucille would already know what he had just turned on. "It's what Muggles use to listen to music. It receives music through transmission - that's sort of like an electrical current through the air-"

"What ees electreecale?" Thierry asked.

"Shut up, I like this song," Lucille ordered him, then started to sing along to it. She had an unremarkable but decent voice, low and dusky.

Hey where did we go

Days when the rains came

Down in a hollow

Playin' a new game

Laughin' and a runnin'

Skippin' and a jumpin'

In the misty mornin' fog

Ah with our hearts a thumpin'

Was you my brown eyed girl

You my brown eyed girl

Now what ever happened

Tuesday is oh so slow

Goin' down the old mine with a

Transistor radio

Standin' in a sunlit lane

Hidin' 'hind a rainbow's wall

Slippin' and a slidin' yeah

All along the waterfall

It was you my brown eyed girl

You my brown eyed girl

Do you remember when

We used to sing

Sha la la la la la la la la la la ti da

Sha la la la la la la la la la la ti da

Grinning, Arthur moved his hand to the right and flicked the Invisibility Booster off. Sure enough Lucille had her eyes squeezed shut and was singing into a microphone formed by her fist. He and Thierry beamed silently at each other, not wanting to make her aware that they could now see her. When she realised what Arthur had done, she shrieked and swatted his arm playfully. He made up for it by singing the rest of the song along with her. Frank applauded when they had finished.

"Arthur et Lucille, oo seengs zis song?" Thierry asked them.

"Van Morrison, " Lucille replied.

"Good. Let's keep eet zat way," Thierry retorted. To defuse an argument, Arthur flicked through the stations until he found one playing a Beatles song, which ironically turned out to be "Drive my car." Out of him and Lucille, he sung along to that one the loudest.

* * * * *

On the veranda of her country house Eleanor Rigby was sipping a very strong cup of tea. Today she had suffered one of her turns. She was sure that the girl she had seen in the lavatories at Kings Cross had been wearing a turquoise skirt when she had gone into the cubicle, yet had emerged in a black one. And since she carried no bag, not even a small purse, there was no feasible possibility that she had changed while she was in there. Eleanor remembered details like that.

A movement in the corner of her eye brought her back to the present and she looked upwards, then her cup of tea clattered to the worn wooden boards.

Seconds later she was on the telephone to London. "Doctor Morgan? Yes, it's me, Eleanor. Doctor, I hate to doubt your medical expertise but I think I need to get the dosage on those pills changed. I just saw a blue car flying overhead."

* * * * *

Sometime after lunch the novelty started to wear off for Eleanor's hallucinatory car passengers. Part of the reason for this was that although it was after lunch, because there was no food cart in the Sacred Blue, they had not had any. If it had been hot on the streets below, it was completely scorching above the clouds. Arthur and Frank had both stripped off completely from the waist up and exposed freckled white flesh to the sun. Thierry would have done the same, but having Lucille on his lap made it impossible. And because of the added heat that came from having another warm-blooded mammal so close to him, he was feeling very hot and flustered but doing his best to keep his temper in check. However, the girl in question was not making that easy for him.

"Can we please stop somewhere, just to get a bite to eat and a drink?" she wheedled. "It won't take very long and we'll all feel much more pleasant for it."

"No, Lucille, the Invisibility Boosters been faulty ever since we got out of London," Arthur told her. "I can't risk landing and having Muggles see us."

"But we could land in a paddock somewhere," Lucille persisted, "and then walk."

"And what exactement are we going to do avec Frank?" Thierry rapped out, feeling his tenuous grasp on his disposition slip even further. "Il ees still under ze leg-lockeeng curse, ee cannot walk at all."

"Someone could carry him."

"Glad to 'ere zat oo are volunteering," Thierry snapped. The "someone" in question obviously meant him or Arthur.

"Look at that cloud," Arthur said quickly. "Don't you think it looks like a bust of Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, and it would have been the twelfth one we've seen like that today," Lucille said cuttingly. "When are we going to get to Hogwarts?"

"Lucille, do me an' everyone else une faveur," Thierry snarled, "an' shut up." He glanced at the side mirror, expecting to see her customary glower etched upon her features. What he actually saw was her looking sad and pale. She brought up one hand and rubbed her forehead, then winced. He had forgotten that she was not feeling well. Leaning forward, he whispered, "Sh, cherie, we weel be dans 'Ogwarts very soon. In ze meantime, why don' oo try an' get some rest, d'accord?"

Surprisingly, Lucille nodded in agreement and settled back against him. Gradually her chin dropped and her eyes slid shut. Thierry carefully pushed her head back on his shoulder and tightened his arms around her. Now her face in the mirror was still and at peace. She was rather attractive when she slept, if only because it meant she wasn't talking.

"Well made, isn't she?" Arthur asked.

Thierry jumped guiltily. "A leedle bit on ze small side," he said, deciding to be paltry. "Especialement dans some places."

"That's the beauty of her, though," Arthur breathed. Thierry glanced at him sharply. Were new feelings for Lucille coming through? "It's astounding how much Muggles can cram into these things; you wouldn't think it from the outside. Stupendous, really."

Arthur was talking about the car. Thierry smiled and turned back to the window.

"Thierry, what were you talking about just then?" Arthur queried. "Somehow I feel as though we had our wands crossed."

"Oh." Thierry looked across at Arthur. The redhead's face was innocent and guile-free. "Ze car, of course."

"It's not very nice to be critical of other people's possessions," Arthur admonished mildly. "Especially when parts of them are small and they can't help it. It's a Beetle. It's designed to be little. Anything large would look out of place on it."

"Of course eet would. I do apologise. Eets ze 'eat, oo know." Satisfied that he had placated his friend, Thierry once again redirected his attention to the view below them. Frank was snoring in the back.

Arthur beamed inwardly. He knew very well what Thierry had really been talking about.

* * * * *

Back in the Hogwarts Express, Molly was contemplating changing into her school uniform. The uniforms had been altered slightly from the previous year. Last year she had tripped around in a heavy pleated felt skirt that came down to her ankles, but this year her uniform consisted of a sleeveless grey shift with an A-line skirt that ended several inches above her knees and a white turtleneck that was worn underneath. A Gryffindor badge below the right shoulder signified where her loyalties lay. The new look had been based on Muggle fashions and Molly had to admit that it was, well, cute. She had heard some of the older girls complaining about the much-shorter skirt length - notably Minerva - but not only was Molly grateful for its absence in this heat, but it gave her a chance to show off her legs. Whatever misgivings she may have kept to herself about the rest of her generous figure, she did rather like her pins.

Perhaps showing some pride in her new position, unlike her companion, Veronica had changed almost immediately. Her uniform was yet again different from Molly's. Her dress was black, not grey, and instead of a turtleneck she had a white shirt with its collars edged with black. The silver prefect's badge flashed as she pinned it to the dress. She didn't have the Gryffindor crest, but between the lapels of her collar a scarlet and gold rosette had been tied. Unlike the "underlings," herself and the other prefects (female, that is) also had the option of wearing black hose instead of the white knee high socks that the other girls were required to wear.

"Ronnie?" Molly was standing with the uniform clutched in her hands. "Lucille hasn't come in yet. Usually she would be sitting with us."

Veronica had forgotten about Lucille. "Maybe she met up with Arthur and Thierry at the station and they decided to take a compartment together." She watched Molly's face carefully as she said Arthur's name. It was true that she wasn't expecting overwhelming joy. Even a look of annoyance like Lucille was wont to get whenever anyone mentioned a certain Frenchman would have been something, but Molly's face remained blank. Veronica sighed inwardly. This would take some work.

"True, but I can't really see Lucille voluntarily spending any more time than she has to in Thierry's company," Molly pointed out. "I hope nothing bad has happened to them."

"Oh, Molly, you're such a mother," Veronica teased. "They're senior students. They're perfectly capable of looking after themselves." That last part sounded a little too close to Minerva for comfort. She hoped being a prefect wouldn't deprive her of her sense of fun and mischief. "And Thierry can-" she was about to say Apparate, but caught herself "-cast one hell of a Summoning charm. Honestly, Molly, you're going to need a large family to satisfy your cluckiness. I can see you fussing over six or seven children in the future."

"You just be careful," Molly grinned. "Who knows, Ronnie, I may even end up naming one of them after you."

"That might not be a good omen," Veronica said. "I mean, with a name like that you'll have a child who's continually getting in trouble, for, say, sneaking out after dark, wandering into the Forbidden Forest looking for spiders and picking fights with Slytherins."

"And what's wrong with that?" Molly asked. The spiders had been before an anti-nausea potion Professor Mustard had required her to make in her second year. What Molly still didn't understand was why something that was supposed to stop people from feeling ill contained so many revolting things. "Especially that last bit, I quite liked."

"I think you'll feel differently if it's your own child you're continually getting owled about, rather than you doing these things," Veronica reasoned. "I mean, look at the trouble poor Lucille has with Sirius and that James Potter. They're not even her own children, but she's still responsible for them."

At the mention of Lucille's name Molly's smile faded. "Ronnie, she should have been here by now. I'm getting quite anxious."

"As you would. Typical fretful mother." Veronica then saw the look Molly gave her and turned serious. "Alright, I'll go outside and have a scout around for her. I was planning on going to the food cart anyway."

"And how many boxes of Bertie Botts' Many-Flavoured Beans are you planning on buying this year?" Molly asked her.

"Only five or six," Veronica shrugged. "I'm trying to cut down."

"Oh, come on, Ronnie, you need at least ten," Molly teased. "This is your final year to beat that record of nine you got when you were in your fourth year."

"Get bent, carrots," Veronica grinned, ducking outside with her purse.

Left alone, Molly gazed down at the uniform neatly laid out on the seat next to her. It was true that in terms of comfort, it was a huge improvement after last year's nightmare, but her Muggle capris and sleeveless shirt would probably still be a lot cooler. She decided to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, then started when the door slid open. "You didn't take long to find-"

"You? Of course not." Standing in the doorway was not Veronica and a stackload of Many-Flavoured Beans but Lucius Malfoy, the Slytherin who had been responsible for her reading every single one of her Care of Magical Creatures texts over the summer. "Molly, what a delightful outfit." Tall and blond, Lucius insisted on wearing wizards' clothes despite the heat. He was probably too cold-blooded to feel it, Molly reflected. "I failed to see you at Diagon Alley last week while I was purchasing my books."

"What a pity," Molly said unconvincingly. He had come inside and closed the door behind him. She wished he hadn't. It wasn't that she was scared of him- even in Slytherin most boys had some scruples about hexing a female - but she would have felt better had the taller and more athletically built Veronica been in the room.

"Is this seat taken?" Lucius asked, glancing at the space that Molly's uniform occupied. Before she could reply he had sat down. She realised he hadn't really been waiting for an answer. Malfoys never did. "You're, um, squashing my uniform," she said pointedly.

Lucius glanced down. "My apologies," he said, sounding not particularly sorry. He moved off the clothes so that he was sitting barely a foot away from her. She resisted the urge to scream and run out of the room.

"Er, well," Molly played for time, "the thing is that this cabin is already full. Veronica Vectors gone to the food cart - she could be back any second now," she added hopefully, "and Lucille Black, Thierry Delacour and Arthur Weasley are also sitting here."

At the mention of Arthur's name Lucius' grin dropped. "Oh, so this is a little private party, then?" he sneered. "Slytherins need not apply? Well, I'd best leave you Gryffindors to bond, then." He flung the door open and stormed outside.

"So that's how to get rid of him," Molly said aloud to the empty cabin, smiling again. She and Veronica could have a good giggle about this when the older girl returned...

Tap-tap.

Frowning, Molly went to the door and opened it, her wand drawn in case Lucius had decided to pay another visit. The hallway was empty. Perhaps the carriage was just showing its age...

Tap-tap.

Molly turned and screamed. Hanging out of the window of a baby blue Beetle was Arthur Weasley, beaming enthusiastically as though flying fifty feet or so above a river, since they were going over a bridge, was the most natural thing in the world. It was he who had been knocking on the compartment window. "Molly Morag!" he called out to her. "Long time, no see. How was your summer?"

"F-fine. Really nice," she stammered, then realised he couldn't hear her and raced across the cabin to open the window. "What are you doing in that thing?"

"It's my new car," Arthur called back over the rushing air outside the window. "Charmed it to fly over the summer. We missed the train, so we decided to take it instead." "We" included Thierry Delacour, who gave her a wave, a very sulky-looking Lucille Black on his lap and Frank Longbottom, who was sitting in a strange position along the back seat. "How's your mother?"

"She's great," Molly replied. Next he would be asking her if she would like to come in for a cup of tea. She wondering how Lucille was holding up and whether she needed anything, but doubted Thierry would be amused if a sanitary pad came flying through the air to hit him on the forehead.

"Ey, Molly," Thierry called out to her. The car jerked upwards, then levelled. "Oo wouldn't by any chance know ze counter-curse to ze leg lockeeng curse?"

"What?" Molly cried.

"Ze leg lockeeng curse!" Thierry shouted. The car bobbed down slightly, just out of view of the window.

"Oh. Just one minute," Molly said, racking her brains to think of it. "Hang on, I've got it, it's rigor motor-"

"Molly Morag, what is this I hear about you and Lucius Malfoy sitting in this cabin together alone, with the door shut?" Minerva McGongall's voice demanded. Molly turned to see the Head Girl standing in the doorway, hands propped on hips with almost military intent. "You must be aware that there are rules against this sort of thing."

Molly's heart leapt wildly. Arthur and his passengers were out of Minerva's line of vision for now, but soon they would bob back up and it wouldn't take Professor Trelawney to see detentions in everyone's future. "Heads up!" she cried, tugging up the bottom of her shirt.

Minerva's eyes widened like saucers. The mini flew back up, Arthur's mouth dropping open as he saw her. Thierry was grinning broadly. Molly saw Lucille reach over and clap a hand over Frank's eyes before Arthur in his shock let go of the wheel and the car plummeted out of sight. She screamed again.

"Molly Morag, what is the meaning of this?" Minerva spat.

"Oh, er," Molly stammered, "I screamed because I saw a wasp-"

"And is that how you normally react to wasps? Pull up your shirt to give them a better target? It would have been quite spoilt for choice there, wouldn't you think? What is the meaning of this? Girl, have you gone mad?"

"Er, no, Minerva, I haven't gone mad, oh dear, I mean, a dare!" Inspiration hit. "Yes, Arthur Weasley - you know what a great practical joker that guy is, terrific sense of humour, real riot - dared me to flash you before the start of term." Minerva was still looking at her strangely. "You will tell him that I did it, won't you? Because I get to make him do something embarrassing in return if I go through with it."

"Well, then." For once Minerva seemed at a loss for words. "Well, I must say that I am surprised it was Arthur, given that he is- well, never mind. I will not give you a detention this time but, Molly, do try to keep your shirt on, er, down, in the future." With that she turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

The instant she left Molly pulled the door shut, then ran across to the window and looked outside. The mini had reappeared and Arthur gave her the thumbs up signal, then drove off. She waved back, hoping it was a "Yes, we're okay" and not an "I liked what I saw" thumbs up. She would never live this one down.

* * * * *

Back in the Sacred Blue, Thierry had asked Arthur a question similar to the one Molly had just posed to herself. "Of course it was a "Yes, we're okay" thumbs up," Lucille shot back indignantly at him. "Arthur is a gentleman. He's not that type of guy; he's not like, like you!"

"So what ees like me zen, Lucille?" Thierry enquired coolly.

Lucille couldn't answer that one. Frank also had been speechless ever since he had caught a glimpse of Molly's breasts. Arthur suspected that it had been the first glimpse of female secondary sex characteristics the third year had ever seen, and most possibly the last for some time. Unless Longbottom counted what he saw when he looked in the mirror shirtless, that was.

"Weel, Arthur," Thierry returned to him, "oo were sayin' zat oo 'ad not seen zat much of Molly over ze summer. Zat certainly remedied zings. Ow!" Lucille had just punched him on the shoulder. "Merde, Lucille! Are oo evair dans a good mood?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that I always seem to be in a bad mood whenever you're around?" Lucille shot back. "Quelle coincedence? Je ne pense pas!"

"Vraiment? I joost thought zat oo weere une grande vache-"

"Oh, look! Hogwarts!" Arthur called quickly.

The many-spired building was glittering away beneath them, nestled in the crook of a rippling blue lake. They had never seen Hogwarts from this high up, and the view was quite breathtaking. From this height the school seemed to warrant its reputation as being one of the best magic academies in Europe. Even Lucille forgot her argument and was staring down at the sight.

* * * * *

Molly never had a chance to tell Veronica about their airborn friends. She returned with - not five, not six - but eleven boxes of Many-Flavoured Beans and Amos Diggory, the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain. Molly liked Amos well enough, in fact, she thought he was rather spunky, but wasn't sure how trustworthy he would be with the knowledge of the flying Beetle. Hufflepuffs were known to be sticklers for the rules. However, with Amo's company and that of Ravenclaws Alistair Bell and Sylvian Davies, who joined them later, the time passed very quickly and Molly soon forgot about this slight inconvenience.

One thing she did tell them about was Lucius Malfoy's visit. When she described the expression on Lucius' face when she had mentioned Arthur Weasley's name, Amos laughed so hard that he almost snorted a Toss-Flossing Stringmint out his nose.

"That big poofter," he roared. "Isn't he engaged or something? Wants a bit of Irish on the side, perhaps?"

"Molly, seriously," Alistair began, "his dad's influence doesn't extend to Hogwarts to the point where he can get away with harassing helpless girls. If you ever want us to teach him a lesson, well, just say when."

"Oh, it's alright, Ali," Molly, laughing herself now, said. "I find him more comical than anything else. And I'm hardly helpless." With Veronica and three tall boys crowding the tiny cabin, she had forgotten her apprehension when Lucius had entered uninvited and unwanted.

It was growing dark when the train pulled into the station and the air was now pleasantly cool. Molly caught a brief glimpse of Elsie's frightened face and managed to give her a reassuring wave before herself and all the other returning students were clustered into the waiting carriages.

"I didn't see Lucille, Arthur or Thierry on the platform," Veronica, now the fretful one, told her as they climbed into a carriage and found seats facing the front. "And with their height, Arthur and Thierry are pretty hard to miss in a crowd."

"Ronnie-" Molly tried.

"I suppose that if they missed the train, they all found each other eventually, and not too much can happen to Lucille if Thierry's with her," Veronica continued. "If he doesn't strangle her himself, that is."

"Ronnie, they're all-" Molly started, but a group of second years climbed in with them and she was unable to continue.

A while later and they were all sitting on the far right of the Great Hall at the table assigned to their house, with Mr Mustard, the Potions teacher, watching over them narrowly. Mr Mustard, on top of being the toughest teacher in the school, was the Slytherin house head, and hated all things scarlet and gold with a passion paralleled only by Lucius Malfoy. Her cheekiness taking hold, Molly smiled beguilingly up at him. His frown only deepened.

The doors swung open and the towering Professor Dumbledore, Mustard's opposing number in Gryffindor house, strode in at the front of the sea of first years. Molly saw her sister at the centre of the crowd, who was staring at the floor morosely. Mr Bartholomew Kyte, the school headmaster, rose to his feet and cleared his throat. The students turned towards him expectantly.

"Now that Professor Dumbledore has entered with this year's new batch," he began, "and what a splendid group they look to me, we may shortly allow proceedings to get underway. However, before we commence, I would like to take this opportunity to introduce this year's Head Boy and Girl."

Veronica elbowed Molly.

"Now," Mr Kyte, a small, bespectacled man, continued, "at the end of each year, the head boy and girl are both chosen from the sixth year students. Students worthy of this honour must not only show exceptional academic aptitude, but must be thoroughly involved with the school and well-respected by his or her peers. These two students must be mature, reliable and responsible, and above all be committed to upholding Hogwarts' good name and all that it stands for."

Molly was beginning to shift in her seat, as was Veronica next to her. She liked Mr Kyte, a soft-spoken but unflappable man, but wished he would just get on with it.

Mr Kyte wasn't long in obliging her. "Now, the Head Girl this year is Miss Minerva McGonagall of Gryffindor House." Molly applauded politely, smiling at the black look on Mr Mustard's face. "Minerva, if you would please stand so that any newcomers will recognise you." Minerva rose to her feet, her face somehow stern in its lack of expression. Several first years look nervous. "Thank you, Minerva. Please remain standing so that I may introduce your equivalent. Now, the Head Boy," his eyes darted across the room and over the Slytherin table, "is-" he faltered, "will be-"

Molly was on the edge of her seat, but Veronica was no longer paying attention, instead gazing up at the ceiling. "A mini," she murmured.

"Yes, many girls have been sporting those today," Minerva huffed near to her. "Such an indecent length-"

"No, a car mini!" Veronica shrieked. "It's going to crash into the Great Hall-"

The car plunged through the window and Veronica instinctively flung up one arm to prevent the shower of glass splinters from hitting her face. It sat tethering on the window ledge, and she knew it was only a matter of seconds before it and its occupants came crashing down onto hard, unrelenting stone.