Three Orphans

5. BARTY-November, 1937 Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Hog's Mountain
Perthshire

1 November, 1937

The Honourable Nathaniel Wright Crouch
Embassy, British Ministry of Magic
Bucharest, Rumania

Dear Sir,

How are you and Mother? I hope the sweltering weather you spoke of in your August letter did not affect her health unfavourably.

I apologise for the delay in writing, but I confess, Father, that that Meroitic scroll you sent me kept me busy for several weeks. Before attempting any kind of cursory translation, I first had to develop a spell that would keep the fragile papyrus from crumbling as I unrolled it. As you suspected, it did hold some interesting fragments of ancient Egyptian curses that I shall be pleased to add to my grimoire. With that and my Prefect duties, I have been very busy. And the preparation for OWLs is proving quite demanding.

I have excellent news. The duelling contest I wrote to you about in my last missive (the 'Spelling Bee', as our new Potions Professor so quaintly terms it) challenged my magibility quite decently and had a most satisfying outcome.

The event (the first of its kind, at least at Hogwarts) was well attended by parents and friends, as well as students. I am sorry you and mother had to miss it. But you will be pleased to hear that some mages of note were present. Before the competition, I made the rounds and had a chance to speak to Madam Bones and Magus Stoneblade of the Wizengamot. She has one granddaughter still in training here (you may remember, the elder, Cordelia, finished last year--Head Girl of course--and is now working at the Ministry in Undersecretary Banebrewer's office). Magus Stoneblade sends his regards and wonders if you have finished writing that monograph on the origins of Mundane vampire-legends for the Lycan Review. He is most eager to read a credible account of The Impaler's bloody predations.

Archmagus Visesku, after receiving my congratulations on his promotion, wished me to pass on his personal gratitude for your successful strengthening of the Confederation's Bucharest Accord. He still has relatives in Bacau and was mightily concerned for their well-being after that Vampire incident in Carpathia.

The Thane of Perth, Lord Macnair, was in attendance, as well. But, of course, as I had never been properly introduced to him, I did not approach his party. His middle son Walden had been picked for the contest, and made a decent showing, though he went down in the third round. But more of that below.

As you may remember, in my penultimate letter, I listed the contestants with their strengths and weaknesses, as well as possible strategies for defeating each of those I would most likely face in the final bouts. To my surprise, one semi-finalist was a Dark Horse for whom I had made no preparations whatsoever!

Here follows my report on the action:

Round one (Challenge: to produce bubbles). This was simplicity itself. I delayed my casting as you recommended. I agree: it is not good to show strength too early, even though student odds makers had me as the uniform favourite. I expected my chief competition, Robert MacDonald, to have the advantage, but to my mild surprise (and the delight of the Ravenclaws) a newcomer, Filius Flitwick, managed to create the first bubbles. I say 'to my surprise' because it is rumoured that his family tree includes goblins and garden gnomes. (You may remember that letter in The Owl from Magus Nott, objecting to persons of dubious heritage attending Hogwarts. I believe it was our new Transfiguration Professor, Dumbledore, who interceded successfully on the little fellow's behalf. It would seem his instinct was the correct one.)

But I digress.

I immediately produced a stream of bubbles from my wand, using the classical Greek cant (for practice, not puffery, I assure you.) When the time limit was up, only six of our number had not managed to complete the assignment:

1) Augusta Fairfax, who claimed another contestant had deliberately hindered her (I was not able to get to the bottom of that story, but I am sure that the teachers acting as judges saw what actually happened),
2) 'Festus' Mulciber (I was glad to see his back. Though a dull-witted clod in every other respect, he has an almost unblockable double-pronged Incendio),
3) Quentin Trimble (just nerves, I'm sure-- he's actually quite good),
4) Raymond Sykes (expected this--he's such a dolt),
5) Algernon Longbottom (ditto),
6) Velassitie Vector (again, nerves, I think).

Round two (Challenge: Glamour self): Once again, no problem. Having plenty of time, I thought a while before choosing my disguise and finally decided on an image of dear great-aunt Mazokizmia, after the portrait that hangs in our dining room. I must have looked a rare sight in the tasselled headdress and emerald choker of a Victorian grand-dame. I did hear some laughter behind me, as well as a smattering of applause after I had produced the Glamour.

Very few contestants were able to approximate the realism of my own façade. The best, I thought, was McGonagall's (who, as you may know is related to the Macnairs on her father's side). She came up with the most dashing figure of a Muggle pirate, complete with dirk and cutlass and dark, curling moustache. The boy across from her, 'Tom' Riddle, a Slytherin first year, of whom I will speak in detail later, had trouble with this one. He maintained his composure, however, and I believe, although I can't say for certain (it's just a feeling, mind you) that at one point he reached across the room with his mind, and probed my own. It was a very brief sensation, like the tickle of a cobweb, but in that moment, I felt curiously violated. Seconds later, he conjured up a Glamour very like my own: an elderly woman, dressed to the nines, but oddly with a large snake curled about her neck. His was very wavery though and, I'm sure, barely passed muster with the judges.

This time, four contestants were asked to leave the floor:

1) Enid Arbuckle (no imagination at all, that one),
2) Damocles Belby (don't know why--he has had much practice disguising himself as a Potions expert),
3) Flitwick (with his antecedents, perfectly understandable),
4) Miranda Goshawk (a Chaser for Gryffindor. Her mind was probably out somewhere on the Quidditch pitch.)

Round three: This challenge revealed some very interesting things about our professors. Before the spell was announced, Mami Leek paired each remaining student up with a staff member. The teachers chosen were asked to produce their wands, and for a moment, I was worried that we were going to be asked to duel with them. (As I had drawn Professor Dumbledore for my partner, I was quite literally shaking in my boots!) You can imagine my relief when we were told we would only be required to do a Prior Incantato on their wands.

Now here's the interesting part. Apparently the staff hadn't been warned about this in advance. Some of the teachers participating looked a bit uneasy, and I even heard some gasps and muttered protests as Mami Leek explained that we contestants were to figure out the last spell our partner's wand had performed. This unexpected reaction made me curious to see the results of as many of the spells as I could, so I made short work of Professor Dumbledore's wand, and then stood back and observed the others.

I expected everyone--even the first and second years--to do well, since our Charms professor, Miss Trumulo, demonstrates this spell for her students every year--but not so. As I mentioned earlier, Walden Macnair hadn't a clue how to perform it. I glanced up at his father near the end of the round and saw a distinct look of disgust on his face. Surprisingly, MacDonald, our Head Boy, went down as well. I say 'surprisingly' because I've seen him perform this charm several times on the wands of students suspected of magical mischief. He has told me since that he thinks his partner, Professor Merrythought, did a selective Obliviate on him as he started the cant over her wand, for he experienced an uncharacteristic loss of memory and hasn't been able to produce the spell since. Now we're all wondering what spell it was that our Defencive Arts teacher needed to hide.

Rufus Scrimgeour went down too--for the same reason I suspect. His partner was our new Potions Professor, Horace Slughorn. I don't quite trust the man. He seems weak and fawning. Scrimgeour knew the spell, I'm sure. He badly wants to be an Auror and is always practising their spells. He even asked me once if I could be of help in getting him an interview at the DMLE.

It seems obvious in retrospect that Mami Leek should have told the staff what she was planning and asked for volunteers.

Of those that succeeded, McGonagall's cant revealed a Wine-Fountain Spell on Doctor Egg's wand, Riddle's, a Cushioning Charm on Madam Boothby's and 'Jack' Longbottom's, a Djinn-Warding on Magus Al-gebr's.

By the by, Professor Dumbledore's spell was one I would never have expected--that Heel-Turning Charm the housekeeper uses to knit our winter socks.

Fourth round (Semi-final, students paired for dueling.) We drew lots and I was to go up against Riddle, leaving McGonagall facing Jack Longbottom. I may say here that from the moment I walked into the hall, I had felt confident of the outcome. Even the high, inescapable, many-sided walls of the arena, with powerful witches and wizards peering down at me in judgment could not shake my nerve. But now, I admit, I felt challenged by this Slytherin Dark Horse. After he tried that bit of botched Legilimency on me, I felt I had been set a great riddle (pun intended). I never expected a first year to get this far and so hadn't researched his background beforehand.

Riddle came right out of the box with a series of hexes. One after another, he shouted the cants for a Stinging Hex, a Babbling Curse, a Binding Charm, Furnunculus, Locomotor Mortis, Relashio, Serpensortia, and Tarantallegra. But as he was very nervous and distracted, only the last three took. I Incinerated the snake and blocked the other two charms with an Impedimenta. When he paused for breath, I Silenced him neatly. But, wonder of wonders, the devious little bugger managed a nonverbal Apneo, which I wasn't expecting, so I almost choked to death before I managed to spit out the countercharm. I finished him off with an Expelliarmus and then a Full-Body-Bind. The bout took just over two minutes.

He seemed to take it well, and we shook hands. But as we did, I had once again that curious sensation of his trying to probe my mind. I'm thinking it must be a natural (though as yet undeveloped) gift of his. It was really very mild. All the same, I'd feel safer if you would alter our agreed-upon schedule and tutor me in Occlumency over the holidays, in lieu of those advanced lessons in Centaurean.

After the contest was over, I tried to find out something about Riddle, but I have drawn a virtual blank. Professor Dumbledore is in charge of student records now. He has placed some kind of Encoding Spell on them, and I have not been able to break the encryption.

I wonder if you would be able to find anything out about Riddle yourself. All I know is that he has a City accent, but isn't known to any of the Londoners I spoke to. There are no Riddles in Nott's, so I'm guessing he's a half-breed, his mother a witch. Can't be a Mudblood though; his work is just too good to be self-taught.

But back to the match. I settled in to watch Longbottom vs McGonagall, which I expected to have a quick end as well, Jack being quite my equal in Magical Defence at least. I knew that Minerva McGonagall had missed quite a bit of class work last year due to her mother's protracted illness (mental they say--Madam McGonagall is Muggleborn with the inherent weaknesses of their ilk) and later her father's tragic death (about which there has been not a little speculation).

But I digress.

Longbottom is very athletic and attractive (quite the heartthrob) so naturally all the girls were rooting for him. He also likes to play to the crowd though he is not flamboyant in his dress like his younger brother. And he has a tendency to underestimate the weaker sex. This would prove his downfall.

McGonagall fired off a few simple hexes at him--Relashios, Stunners, etc. Our hero disdained Blocking them, but simply dodged them--Muggle-style. As I say, he's remarkably agile, and, of course, each near miss brought oohs and aaahs from the ladies. That seemed to make his opponent angry (one of her flaws--she has a temper) and she started using more powerful spells: Arrows, a Stinging Hex, and a bloody great Double-Forked Body-Bind. But her aim was erratic and she missed badly with all of them. Well, that's not entirely true. She did hit Longbottom's brother Algernon, who was leaning over the edge of the stands, ogling her, with one prong of the Body-Bind. It brought him crashing down into the arena.

Jack seemed to feel he'd softened her up enough and went on the offensive. At first he had her on the run blocking his spells. Finally, she managed a rather weak Silencio, which only bought her about ten seconds, but it was enough to allow her to do something I've read about but never tried myself.

As I said, the younger Longbottom had fallen to the floor, and several of the staff who were acting as judges ran to his aid. She turned to them and cast a Glamour on them all, making them look like--Minerva McGonagall. A clever trick, if not quite Quidditch. She got herself into the midst of them, and Jack couldn't tell which one was his de facto opponent. Naturally, being the gentleman he is, he couldn't bring himself to fire on an innocent person, especially if that person might turn out to be a teacher, though I daresay he wouldn't care a fig about zapping his prat of a brother. I could tell he was frustrated.

I think McGonagall did this partly to buy time because her next spell was a species-Transfiguration, which, as you know, takes great concentration. I heard someone in the crowd cry out, "Look out, Darling!" But too late. After a false start, she changed the manly Jack Longbottom into a fluffy white kitten. There were more oohs from the girls and much applause. McGonagall picked up the little fellow and Levitated him up to his girlfriend. But Augusta Fairfax was not amused, and she gave McGonagall the most venomous look. Had it been accompanied by a wand wave, McG would have been flat on the floor with toadstools growing out of every orifice. Suffice it to say, however, that Fairfax had not the wit to change her boyfriend back herself. Professor Dumbledore had to do that.

We went right into the final round, I, well warned of her formidable talent, and she, wary of my accomplishments and reputation. Her Shield spells were very good. There was one that had a pinkish halo to it that was well-nigh impenetrable. But of course she couldn't cast any spells of her own through that. So I just relaxed and kept up a sporadic attack-- Stupefys and Stunners--waiting for it to dissipate. But behind the Shield, the devious wench was preparing another of those Transfigurations of hers--a Lumber to Looking Glass spell. Just as the Shield lifted, she changed the walls of the arena--all thirteen of them--into mirrors. I was faced with fourteen McGonagalls and numerous secondary reflections, all milling around and waving their arms. I couldn't decide which one to shoot at first. Against this confusing backdrop, she managed to sneak around behind me--I'm sure you'll agree that was definitely not Quidditch-- and hit me with another Transfiguration. I think it was meant to turn me into a badger, but all she managed this time was the snout and legs and hairy, clawed paws. I still had my wits about me and raced about on all fours, trying to keep my wand in my now clumsy grasp.

Everyone started laughing. I think you'll agree, Father, that turning a Prefect into a badger (meaning no disrespect to Hufflepuff House) demeans his office as well as his person. I quickly became aware that I was fast losing the respect of the teachers and students and would be the object of scorn for the remainder of the school year if I did not get the upper hand and soon. I needed to teach McGonagall a lesson in duelling etiquette as well.

I managed to turn my handicap to my advantage. Before me I saw some steps leading up into the stands. Feigning a rabid beast, I raced up them, snarling. This brought shrieks of terror and some panicked flight, which effectively stopped the ridicule. I believe Quentin Trimble, whom I lunged at first, may have wet himself. I managed a partial reversal of my foe's spell and could now grasp my wand and stand upright. Through the retreating students, I could see McGonagall below me, off guard and looking bewildered, as if she were dismayed to have caused so much havoc.

More fool she! I took careful aim and hit her with an Elektrokos. It made her gasp and threw her to her knees. Then I did an Expelliarmus, which relieved her of her wand and threw her against one of her own mirrors, which immediately shattered. I'm sure it knocked a bit of sense into her and taught her a needed lesson in self-restraint and fairness. I leapt out of the stands and strode towards her, on my guard and planning to follow up with a bit of Full-Body Tetany, to drive the lesson home, but was met in the centre by Professor Dumbledore who changed me fully back into myself, grabbed my wand, and muttered something about 'self-control' and 'animal behaviour'. I think he was a bit miffed because I had bested his 'favourite'--as everyone knows McGonagall to be. I was greeted with cheers from those stalwarts who were not still cowering behind the benches, and Augusta Fairfax ran down, kissed my cheek, and gave my arm a little squeeze.

So now I am the winner of the first-ever Hogwarts Spelling Bee and am told I will be suitably rewarded with a plaque in the Trophy Room.

Afterwards, Professor Slughorn invited me to a party in my honour. I shall have to go, of course, though the man's a positive slime ball about being seen with the 'right' people. I shall see you at Christmas and regale you and Mother with that news over tea. Until then, I am ever,

Your devoted son,

Bartimaeus

~*~

Translated from the French:

the 15th of November

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

My Son,

Your last missive gave me pause. You are showing an alarming familiarity with your elders and a use of the vile vernacular is creeping into your writing. I can only hope it is not also coming out in your speech. Kindly desist using words like 'Dark Horse', 'odds makers', 'passed muster', 'half-breed', 'M-dbl---d', 'clod', 'dolt', ' b-gg--r', 'spit out', 'bloody great', 'heartthrob', 'rooting', 'weaker s--', 'zapping', 'prat', 'girlfriend', 'wouldn't care a fig', 'miffed', and 'slime ball'. I was unable to show your mother this letter in its present condition though she begged me to at least paraphrase it for her. I'm afraid it would weaken her even more to hear how her son's language has deteriorated.

Also, Magus Visesçu would be deeply distressed to learn that you had misspelt his name.

I was pleased to hear of your success in the 'bee.' The Crouch name is certainly worthy of any laurels you can bring to it, though beating a first-year Muggleborn and a witchling barely older than he is hardly to be seen as a feather in your cap.

You inquired about the boy Riddle who gave you so much trouble in the penultimate round of the contest. I have ascertained that he was raised in a London orphanage: mother dead, father's whereabouts unknown. I would advise you not to let this information go any further at this time.

And a note of caution: do not attempt to thwart your Transfiguration teacher's safeguards of the school records. He has the students' best interests at heart, though I sometimes wonder if he should be allowed to go as far as he does in protecting wrongdoers. And he is a supremely powerful wizard. I advise you not to do anything to anger him. Not for nothing is his family motto: Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.

He was right to chastise you for using an Elektrokos on the McGonagall girl (who, by the way, is a Lady in her own right, heir to Connghaill Keep and extensive property in Perthshire). And calling down a Tetany Hex on an incapacitated foe would be at least as shameful as the rear attack she used on you. You have much to learn yourself about bloodlines and the etiquette of duelling.

And as to that, I must adjure you not to take part in any rumours you may have heard about the McGonagall family--or clan, as I believe the Scots prefer it. You may have heard about the father's untimely death, due to a cave-in in a mine. There was a story given out that he was pursuing some kind of monster (a yeti, some of the more preposterous versions would have it) and that it unexpectedly turned on him. You need to know, however (in confidence of course) that Lord McGonagall, an inventor of some note, was working on a secret new form of mass transportation for the Ministry, to replace the soon-to-be-banned carpets. I have it on no less authority than the Thane of Perth himself that an explosion occurred during one of Lord McGonagall's experiments and collapsed the cave he was working in. In a past letter, I recall, you mentioned a three-seater broom his daughter brought to the school last year, a prototype no doubt. As the carpet ban negotiations are still sub rosa, I would have you deflect any speculation as to the manner of his death, for reasons of national security, you understand.

Your mother asks whether you are still corresponding with your former classmate Carlotta Pinkstone. As I'm sure you know, she will be coming home soon from America permanently, her mother having relinquished the ambassadorship to accept a position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Rumour has it she may succeed Rutherford Bones himself in a year or so. I sincerely hope the lamentable frowardness and familiarity of the colonials has not rubbed off on her daughter. As I recall it, Miss Pinkstone espoused some rather radical views--much like those of her late father-- when last she visited. If you are planning to invite her to the house over the summer, kindly apprise her of the rules of civilized conduct before doing so. Midnight rambles across the rooftops of Bucharest will not be abided as they are in London, and in fact, with the vampire population in the ascendancy, could be downright dangerous. Carlotta's views on the enfranchisement of house-elves are ludicrous and would play havoc with our economy. Her attacks on the Statute of Secrecy are little short of traitorous. Only her youth and inexperience (not to say her mother's influence) have kept her out of the Ministry's purview thus far.

I am enclosing the new Gobbledygook Primer, Nazdorog na Foolog Goblanskit, which you asked for. Since Goblins are so secretive about their language, my contact at Gringotts was understandably hesitant about parting with it. I rewarded him of course. Use it well.

I regret that your mother and I will be unable to meet you in London over the holidays. She is feeling poorly, having fallen down the stairs yet again. The house-elves assigned to watch her have been severely punished. I don't know what I shall do with our little invalid. I am going to try a new convalescent home for her, Kirk's in Invernesshire. I have a deal of work to do before the New Year, including helping to draft the Carpet Ban, and cannot afford to be interrupted with all that distressful groaning and moaning when the attendants move her about.

Kindly pen your next missive in German so I can see how you are progressing in that language.

Your father,

Nathaniel Wright Crouch

~*~

Hogwarts School, etc., etc. 16 November, 1937

Dear Carlotta,

It's a shame you and your mother won't be coming to London this Christmas. I just had word that father and mother won't be coming either, so I'll be stuck at school. I had rather looked forward to treating you to a double Flaming Bananas Foster at Fortescue's to light up the New Year, but another time perhaps.

Last night, my triumph in the Bee was celebrated at Professor Slughorn's monthly tea. We've all taken to calling it 'The Slug Club'--with his approval of course. Though I suppose he's just happy that Macnair and company haven't given it a worse name, like 'Horace's Chorus' or 'The Suck-Up Club'. From the list of regular attendees, it is quite obvious that he chooses the members of his 'club' mostly from the ranks of the affluent and influential, with the occasional diamond in the rough, like that Slytherin first year I told you about, Tom Riddle.

I see now the wisdom of my father's advice to not blab about Riddle's background. If all those purebloods, especially the Macnairs, found out what we know--that he is a Half-Breed--they would make life miserable for him. It is a wonder to me how the Hat could have chosen him for Salazar Slytherin's culture of snobbery.

Barney Cuffe was also at the tea. He told me his family will be 'taking the cure' next month at Baden Baden and confided that he wished he could beg off and keep me company at Hogwarts over the holidays, as the sulphur smell of the Baths makes him nauseous. He's starting up a school newsletter and wanted to send one of his minions to interview me for an article on The Bee, but now that I think of it, it wouldn't be appropriate--I don't think father would approve my bragging about so small an accomplishment. I told Barney you'd be back next year. He wishes me to pass along his greetings and wishes for a safe trip. Maybe he'll want to have you report on the doings in America for his rag.

Your chum Miranda Goshawk asked after you. I think I told you she was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team last year. Well, she's made Chaser again, along with Polly McLaggen and Letitia. They made a formidable trio last year--swept all their games and won the Cup going away. The team's almost as strong this year though I think Ravenclaw will give them a run for their money. At least, we should beat Hufflepuff and Slytherin handily with Earnest Jack Longbottom as our Seeker. That said, I'm sure that you'll be a shoo-in for Ravenclaw next year, as all the good Chasers will be gone.

Minerva McGonagall, the second year I beat in the Bee final, was at the tea. She congratulated me with no hard feelings, even though I slammed her pretty badly with that Expelliarmus. I told you her Transformations were quite decent. I heard McLaggen tell her she was sorry she didn't make the team. I didn't even know that McGonagall played Quidditch, but Miranda told me she came close as a Kneazle's whisker to being the first first year in a century or so to Chase for Gryffindor last year. I suppose we'll be hearing next that she's invented a broomstick that can fly to the moon.

Augusta and Jack are still going together, though I wonder if it'll last. She's really touchy these days, and was downright nasty to McGonagall at the tea. Accused her of cheating at the Bee. I have to give it to the second year though. She kept calm and just walked away, although I think she was quite embarrassed. If it had been me, I wouldn't have been so forgiving. Sometimes I think someone needs to give Fairfax a little Elektrokos to soften her up a bit, you know?

Mother has intimated that you would be welcome at the family manse over the summer, though you will have to keep your political views to yourself. Father is still seething over that argument you had with Archmagus Stavros about the defanging of vampires two years ago.

See you in the spring,

Barty

~*~

The Arden School Baltimore, Maryland, The Deliciously Savage and Primitive U.S. of A. 30 Nov 37

The Honourable Bartimaeus Crouch, Esquire
The Pigpimple School of Frippery and Frolic
Wherever-My-Owl Ends-Up-Shire, UK

Darling Barty,

Congrats on your win, my dear. I knew you had it in you. But how boring for you, darling. Your ultimate foes: a mere first-year--a 'tenderfoot' our American Cowboys would call him--and an upstart second year witchling. I was hoping for a bloody--literally bloody--duel between you and that adorable Jack Longbottom. (Don't be jealous, my dear. You know he can't hold a candle to you in my eyes, but a girl likes to fantasize.)

Anyway, I'm holding my own here at Arden, with only that brainless Bethoc Mcnair to keep me company. These American girls are just too fast for me. (Do you know they don't even need a licence to Apparate over here?) You know how much I adore the idea of freedom, but it shouldn't be for just anyone--do you think? Bethoc would splinch herself into sixty small pieces, given the opportunity--though it'd be no great loss, I'm sure.

Well, things aren't completely static. Bethoc introduced me to her cousin Petey, and he is a bit of fun, I must say, unlike his uncle, who is utterly stodgy and has no clue what his dear little girl is up to. I swear she's tried out half the boys in the school already, and it's only her third year.

You'll know Petey, I suppose. He's younger than us, so I was gone before he came on board at The Pimple Factory. He's quite good at the Lesser Hexes, and as they don't teach Defence here, has a decided advantage over the American boys in the schoolyard. He's also very creative with them. Did you know you can do a Tarantallegra on a swizzlestick? Quite handy for mixing cocktails.

I hope your mother is feeling better. Are you sure she doesn't just need a good course of Strengthening Tonics and Mud Packs? I believe Baden-Baden is the place to go for those, though I hear it's overrun with Muggles nowadays. So tiresome.

It'll give your dear Pa-pa a conniption to hear it, I know, but I've become a member of the Modern Witches' Coven. You know they espouse a relaxing of the Statute of Secrecy, don't you? We're planning a teeny little demonstration at the annual WAR meeting in April. (That's Witches of the American Revolution, for the uninitiated.) Our theme is "Liberation and Equality for All". I'm going as Circe, the original Muggle-lover of them all.

Do keep me apprised of the Quidditch standings, won't you? I'll relay the info to Petey. His brother's on the Slytherin team apparently, but doesn't write to him at all. Bad blood between those two, I expect. He especially wanted to know about la McGonagall. I told him she didn't make the team, and he looked very down-in-the-mouth at it. Guess there's something between those two--infants though they be.

I look forward to our meeting soon. I've quite forgiven you for taking up with that Slytherin wench last year--what was her name?--Dora?

Cheerio, darling,

Carlotta