After the first week, Sadie finally found the rhythm of her schoolwork. It was tricky work—she frequently had to ask her classmates what certain magical terms meant—but that was good. Sadie had always liked cutting her teeth on difficult concepts. There was nothing like the joy of finding the answer, especially when she found it [i]herself[/i]. She’d apparently become the class nerd, but Sadie found the near apathy of some of her classmates staggering. She knew in the way that she knew that she must breathe that she would never tire of the magic of spells and potions and earth beneath her fingernails.

The first Quidditch game was terrifying and exhilarating in equal parts. She couldn’t forget the sight of that little Hufflepuff girl hurtling towards the ground. She’d woken up in a cold sweat half a dozen times, heart slamming into her ribs until she feared they might break. No one else seemed particularly bothered, and Sadie kept those nightmares quiet.

It had been two months, and Brennan had barely spoken more than a dozen words to her. She’d seen how he darkened when she came around with George, his lips pressing into a thin line. But it hadn’t been George who’d said those awful things, she wanted to scream at her brother. Somehow, Sadie didn’t think Brennan much cared. It was, truthfully, rather lonely. At least her mum wrote frequently, sending sweets and trinkets from back home. Her dormmates had been fascinated by the still photographs  Sadie’s  muggle friends had sent, their fashion and technology so alien to them. 

She was surprised to find herself missing home. Magic was wonderful and great, and she adored it, but she yearned for her phone, for streaming music and television. She missed knowing slang and context and staircases that [i]didn’t change on her[/i]. Sadie had a sharp sense of direction, but Hogwarts seemed to be purposefully trying to make her late for classes by completely altering its layout halfway through her walks.

Halloween was as lavish as Christmas, she’d realised with a gasp as she and her friends entered the Great Hall. It was spectacular, flickering candles and spiders crafted of wisps of smoke dancing up and down webs of gossamer magic. Sadie spent the first five minutes of the meal whipping her head back and forth to catch sight of something new and wondrous. One of the older students chuckled as she gasped in delight at little cauldron cakes with ladles stirring around in their chocolate. 

Seine was regaling them with a particularly thrilling (and brutal) Quidditch recounting, Estonia vs. Laos, but she was only half listening. Seine was an amazing story  teller, but she’d already heard the match--[i]yellow and black robes whipping in wind, body tumbling like a rag doll toflat, flat earth[/i]—and she instead focused on the food.

She was halfway through a bowl of pumpkin soup when she noticed that a tall, thin Professor was whispering into the Headmistress’ ear. Sadie watched at the elderly witch’s face blanked, her lips pursing into a thin line. Little whispers seemed to break out along the Head Table—and then they were hushed, smiles placed back on their faces. She almost thought she had imagined it, but…

“Did you see that?” Niall muttered from across the table. Sadie met the his curious gaze, flicking her eyes back to the Head Table. Everything seemed normal, but…

“That didn’t look like good news,” Sadie murmured, knitting her brows together. “Wonder what they’re hiding.”