Bea and Mary

Poppins and Potter: they'd been best friends since they'd been sorted, first one and then the other.

"Poppins, Mary," the gray-haired professor had said, and the taller of the two girls had stepped forward. She had shiny black hair and was thin, with large feet and hands, and small, rather peering, blue eyes. The hat, which was old even then, placed her in Hufflepuff.

The next name to be called by the old professor was, "Potter, Helen." But, after she was also sorted into Hufflepuff, she explained to Mary and the others that she preferred to go by her middle name, Beatrix, or Bea for short. Bea was small for her age. Her hair, cropped just above her shoulders, was dark brown and always in disarray. At home she submitted patiently to starching and brushing and tying up with ribbons, but at school she was glad for Mary's expertise with hair potions.

Mary excelled at Potions and Charms and wandless magic. Bea, on the other hand favored Herbology and Magical Creatures or any creatures for that matter. She did wonderful, lifelike drawings of them whenever she had spare time. And, she could speak to the creatures. They understood her and she understood them. Mary remembered one time that they had seen a little rabbit hopping by in a blue waistcoat. Bea asked him to sit for a portrait; and he had been more than glad to. Bea said he said his name was Peter.

There was one other thing that Bea had that Mary hadn't got and that was a brother. Bertram Potter came to Hogwarts when the girls were in their fourth year. He was sorted into Gryffindor just like many famous Potters before him and since. It seemed that Bea was the lone Hufflepuff in the bunch, but she didn't mind. She was as proud of Bertram as he was of her.

It was another Bert altogether that Mary found herself enamored with. Herbert Alfred was also a Hufflepuff and a year older than the girls. He was an artist, too, like Bea, but he had the gift of bringing his pictures to life. There was one such painting he did of a knight called Sir Cadogan.

One warm Saturday at the end of May, Mary and Bea were enjoying their freedom from class out by the lake. Bea was sitting on a blanket in the grass, holding a parasol over her head. Mary had taken the liberty of removing her shoes and stockings and was wading out into the shallows while holding her robes up over her knees.

"It's terribly improper," scolded Bea.

"Fiddlesticks," said Mary. "It's too hot to be modest."

"Nonsense," Bea continued. "What if Bert were to see?"

Mary only laughed.

Bea, knowing she couldn't convince her friend, changed the subject. "Mary, what do you want to do when you grow up?"

"I don't plan on growing up," said Mary, picking up a flat stone and skipping it across the water. She counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 skips before it slipped beneath the smooth surface.

"Maybe you should do something with children, then," said Bea thoughtfully.

Mary shrugged. "Maybe. What about you?"

"I thought I might try to write down some of the stories the animals tell me and sell them with my pictures."

"I think that's a wonderful idea," Mary exclaimed, letting go of her robes and allowing the hem to fall into the water. She splashed back to the shore and knelt down next to her friend, grasping her hand excitedly.

Bea did a quick drying charm on Mary's robe and then said, "Do you really think so?"

"Oh, of course, the stories are so sweet, and your pictures are wonderful."

Bea coloured humbly. "There not as good as Bert's. I can't even make them move."

"Well, Transfiguration is neither of our best subject."

Bea laughed, remembering the parrot Mary had tried to transfigure into an umbrella. The handle still squawked.

"Anyway," Mary continued, "if the pictures don't move you can market them to Muggle children as well as the magic ones."

"That's true." Bea sighed, thinking about the future and all that it would hold.

"Then I guess we'll both be working with children," said Mary.

"Yeah." Bea smiled.

"But what will I do exactly?" Mary asked.

"You could teach," Bea suggested.

"Nah, I don't think I know enough."

"Well then." Bea thought a moment. "You could be a nanny."

"A nanny," Mary rolled the idea over in her mind. "Yeah, I could be a nanny. Good idea, Bea."

"Thanks, Mary."