"Morning, Caiti," said Professor Pym, smiling when Caiti arrived to class on Wednesday morning. While she wasn't exactly known for being early to any of her other classes, she was, as usual, the first one to potions after breakfast. Today though, she was early even by her own standards.

"Good morning," said Caiti. She set her bag down by her usual seat and then went to the back wall to retrieve her cauldron from the shelves.

"How did your meeting go this weekend?"

Caiti had told Professor Pym about her meeting with Alora Serpen ahead of time.

"Good," said Caiti. "Really well, actually. I've... I've decided I want her to be my mentor. And she's agreed."

"Oh, that's wonderful. I really think you'll be glad you did. She's just lovely."

Caiti nodded. "I liked her a lot."

Professor Pym watched her then and Caiti felt like she was being evaluated, but wasn't sure what the content of the test was.

"You seem troubled," Professor Pym said finally.

"I-" Caiti started. "I don't know. I guess I am, a bit."

Pym glanced at the clock and then came to sit down opposite Caiti at the round table.

"What about?" She folded her hands on the table and looked at Caiti with that calm, quiet expression that had always made Caiti feel so comfortable. She'd never been afraid to make a mistake in front of Professor Pym.

"I mean she seems great. And I think she could teach me a lot. It's just scary to think about starting over with someone new. I've gotten... I'm just comfortable with you. It doesn't feel like an attack if you give me a critique because I know you and I know you care about me. I guess I'm just nervous about feeling like I don't know enough."

"Caiti, I'm always a resource. Always. You can send me an owl everyday if you like."

"I know."

"But it'll be good for you to hear from someone else. I'm just one person, and I think I've been able to teach you a lot, but quite frankly, you push me. Keeping up with you, making sure I challenged you... it's become more and more difficult the older you've gotten. It's much easier to teach a student who struggles than one who always excels. I never wanted you to feel bored and now I don't want you to get stuck. You're going to surpass what I can do. In fact, I think you have already. You're exceptionally talented. Alora is someone who can continue to push you and I think she'll have things to offer that I don't have. I also think she and I are similar in many ways and you may find that her way of offering feedback, for instance, is very familiar.

"It's okay to feel nervous. You have a lot of changes coming. Big changes. Your life is about to look a lot different than it has. But I think you can let yourself feel excited, too. And again, I am always here for you, for whatever little I might be able to offer."

Caiti nodded, but she found she couldn't speak. Her eyes were stinging and her throat was tight.

"I do expect regular updates, anyway," added Professor Pym with a smile, standing back up. "I'm very invested in what you're doing here. I'd like to know how it all turns out."

Then Caiti got up too and she hugged her tight. Professor Pym gave her a squeeze and patted her on the shoulder.

"You're the best teacher here," Caiti said, sinking back into her seat. She had to swipe a tear from the corner of her eye. "I've learned more from you than everyone else combined."

"I don't know if that's accurate," said Professor Pym. "But thank you very much."

Caiti had to hold back tears the entire lesson. There were only four weeks left before N.E.W.T.s and once exams were through, she'd probably never sit in this classroom and brew a potion again.

—-

Even though Marlowe had not played in a match since that first one several weeks back and even though there was very little chance he would make it into another game any time soon, that one day had finally made him feel like he was a professional quidditch player. He had come to practice each day with new gusto, new motivation to improve and to work hard. He was even finding it easier to work through the aching joints and shakiness that always accompanied the days preceding and following the full moon.

The weather was glorious that day and Marlowe was so enjoying being up on his broom in the fresh air, he was tempted to ignore the coaches whistle calling the beaters down to discuss what he'd seen. His feet squished into the damp grass when he landed. There had been rain early that morning and the peaky late April sun hadn't quite dried it out yet.

His teammates all landed around him.

"We're looking sharper today, lads," said Shep Porter, the assistant coach who typically worked with the defensive positions. "That swing technique we've been working on, that hook, it's really coming along."

They all nodded, clustering around with the ends of their brooms perched atop the grass.

Porter gave them a few notes, had them practice a few things on the ground, and then he sent them off for their lunch break. They had a workout scheduled that afternoon but then it was an early night because there was a match the following day.

"What are you at now, Finnegan? 36 days?" asked Brian McSorley who had always been the most friendly to Marlowe of anyone on the team. He wasn't the only one who'd started keeping a countdown of how many days until Caiti came home. Since she'd come to the match, most of the guys had started to keep track in solidarity with him which was equally funny and embarrassing.

"I think so, yeah," said Marlowe, who didn't want to invite the slagging he'd get from the guys if he pointed out that it was actually 38.

"Getting close," McSorley said, elbowing him with a crooked smile on his face.

"You see her lately?" asked O'Reilly.

"The full moon two weeks ago," said Marlowe. "I'll see her one more time before she graduates."

"The tabloids are gonna have a field day with that," O'Reilly said. "Once she's out of school I mean."

Marlowe could only grimace. No one else on the team got the kind of press he did, but then, no one else was a nineteen year old werewolf playing pro quidditch for the first time.

"It'll calm down," said McSorley. "I got a bit of press when I was younger, but they got tired of me."

"You were also playing for a decent team then," said O'Reilly.

McSorley had actually played for the Ballycastle Bats the first few years of his career, the team Marlowe had originally been signed for and then dropped when he'd been bitten. He never talked about why he'd left. Marlowe had asked a few of them once when they'd been in the middle of a match against the Bats and McSorley had been playing, but no one else seemed to know more than he did. Just that anytime they played the Bats, he was extra quiet and extra competitive.

They'd lose that game, of course, but Marlowe remembered McSorley had played better than he'd ever seen him play before.

True to form, he didn't respond to O'Reilly's comment. They all shrugged off their robes in the locker room in relative silence and when they headed to the break room to have lunch, McSorley didn't follow.

"He's always so touchy about that. What'd you go bringing it up for?" asked Eddie Walters.

"I wasn't trying to upset him, I was just saying."

No one said anything to this so O'Reilly continued. "I really do want to know why he left, though. I mean, fuck. You go from playing for them to playing for us? And he's good, too. What's he gone joining a crap team for?"

"I'll be right back," said Marlowe suddenly. "Forgot something."

He felt the eyes of the others on his back as he jogged back to the locker room. McSorley was still there. He looked up when Marlowe came in.

Marlowe realized he didn't really have a plan.

But when everyone else had been a little mistrustful of Marlowe, when they'd all tiptoed around him, not sure how to behave, not sure if he was really one of them, Brian had been the first to offer the olive branch. Marlowe felt like he ought to show that respect went both ways.

"Hey," he said. "You alright?"

Brian nodded. "Yep."

"Right," said Marlowe. "I just- you didn't come with. I thought maybe O'Reilly'd upset you."

He shrugged, shook his head. "O'Reilly says stuff without thinking all the time. It's fine."

Marlowe just stood there, not sure what else to say. He was starting to regret coming back at all when Brian said, "I wasn't let go or anything. By the Bats. If that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't—" Marlowe said quickly.

"I left. I made it over halfway through my contract and I was going to try to make it the last year so I'd have better odds at getting a different position, but I couldn't stick it out anymore. Your situation... them dropping you like that. It's not the first time something like that's happened. They have problems in management and I didn't want to be part of it, but leaving them looked like I'd failed. Other teams in the league didn't want me after that."

"You didn't tell them why you'd left?" Marlowe asked.

"Sure, but it sounded like an excuse even to myself. It sounded like I was trying to pin a reason on it so I didn't have to admit being cut. I didn't get any references from anyone. They were mad at me for leaving in the middle of the season. I didn't even ask. That's why I'm here. They were the only one's who'd take me. It's not like this was my first choice."

"Right," Marlowe admitted. "Me neither."

"Yeah, so I kind of felt for you when you got here. You should be playing somewhere else."

Marlowe shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'd rather play here and be treated decently than be on a team that wins all the time."

"Yeah," McSorley agreed. "That's what I said, too."

Then he started to head for the door, clapping Marlowe on the back on the way. "You're a nice kid," he said. He held the door for Marlowe and they walked to the break room in companionable silence.

Marlowe was starting to feel like he'd really ended up in the right place. His contract would be up in two more years and technically he'd be free to try for a better position at that point. Maybe by then, he'd change his mind, but for now, he thought he'd probably stay. There were good people on this team.

—-

Evelyn sat at the kitchen table with the university paperwork spread out in front of her. There were just two weeks left before the deadline to enroll and while she'd gone to a muggle convenience store to buy stamps and a proper pen to fill out the enrollment forms, she was struggling to actually put pen to paper.

Sean was in the bathroom attempting to give Barry a bath in the tub and she could hear quite a lot of commotion. Sure enough, a minute later, a half-soaked Barry came tumbling out of the bedroom and cowered under the table at Evelyn's feet, dripping onto her socks.

"Barry!" said Evelyn, pulling her feet up onto her chair. "You're getting me all wet."

"Get back in here," Sean said, coming down the hall. "I haven't even got the soap on you yet." He crouched under the table to try and coax Barry out by the collar, but when he stood up, he looked at the papers spread out on the table and let Barry go again.

"You haven't sent that in yet?" he asked.

Evelyn shook her head.

"Why not?"

"I can't decide if I want to."

Sean pulled out a chair opposite her. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she said. "I was just thinking... I bought muggle pens for this." She held one up. "And on the one hand, I'm not sure why I didn't stick with pens all through Hogwarts because they really are easier, but on the other hand, it's... well, that was what I loved about Hogwarts you know? All that little stuff about the magical world. It's weird and it's usually not very practical, but it's all part of it. And I guess I'm just scared that if I step back into the muggle world, which is what I've always known then... then I'll lose touch with magic. I already feel like I'm not really using it."

"Why would you have to lose touch with it? You've got me, and I don't know anything about muggle stuff except what you've told me. And you use magic all the time when you cook."

Evelyn didn't know what else to say. She couldn't quite articulate her hesitation, though she'd been trying to in her conversations with Margaret all that week.

"Are you scared your job won't really involve magic if you do it?"

Evelyn pressed her lips together and thought about that. "Maybe," she said. "I guess it's just that there aren't really primary schools for wizards. So if I do this, then... where do I go from there, you know? Like, am I just going to end up teaching muggle kids in a muggle school or-"

"Start your own," said Sean.

Evelyn looked at him in surprise. While she and Margaret had sometimes joked about this very idea, she had never brought it up to Sean.

"Start your own school," he said again. "You could do it. And I bet there's a market for it. Not every parent wants to homeschool. My mum didn't. Caiti and I went to our neighbor's house because our parents both worked, but there weren't any other kids around. We were the only two wizarding families on our street. If there'd been a school, I bet they'd have sent us there instead."

"Doesn't that seem kind of unrealistic though?"

"No," said Sean. "You're smart. You're organized. Parents would literally be obsessed with you. Plus it's not like you'd have to do the whole thing yourself. Margaret would help you, I bet. And I can think of other people from school that would want to work with kids."

Evelyn started to feel the same buzzy excitement she'd felt when she and Margaret had first tossed around this idea months ago.

She stood up and headed into the bedroom.

"Where are you going?" Sean asked.

"I need a quill," Evelyn called back. And when she came back, quill and ink pot in hand, she filled out the enrollment form, ignoring the pen she'd bought. Suddenly it didn't matter to her that quills produced a noticeably different type of line. Sean was right. She could do this and she didn't have to pretend the magical world didn't exist. She could keep writing with quills if she wanted. She could be that oddball girl who carried an ink pot with her to class. Maybe she couldn't whip out her wand to change the ink color on her notes like she had often done at school, but she didn't have to forget who she was now.

When she had sealed the envelope and stuck on the stamp, she leaned across the table and pecked Sean on the lips. "Thank you," she said. Sean, she noticed, had gone a little pink.

Looking down at Barry still cowering by her feet, she asked, "You want some help with him?"

"Uh oh, Barry," Sean smiled. "You're getting double-teamed now. This bath is happening."