Hello everyone, thank you all very much for reading my story, or at least starting. For those of you who don't know, this story is technically a sequel to my story Dudley's Dilemma, but I promise that the little bits of plot that do end up affecting this story will be summarized thoroughly. Most of the first half of that story was written before I knew what I was doing, so if you really want to you can read it, but this is as good a place to start as any.

So here it is, I hope you enjoy!

Sarah Dursley bounded up the steps of the Hogwarts Express, her mind entirely bifurcated into two warring factions, one longing for a last day of childhood innocence with her parents, her older brother, just a little bit more delay, the other half already forgetting them entirely, ready to explore this new world of wizarding and magic into which she had been so unceremoniously thrust. Her agitation gave itself away in the form of an occasional odd stutter-step of excitement as she strode down the aisle of the train, attempting nonchalance. Fortunately, the density of students hid this little idiosyncrasy. Dustin, her fifth-year brother, had offered for her to sit with him as she was ascending the stairs, but she had kindly denied his offer. After all, she was going to have to make her own friends eventually, and as the compartments only seated four, bringing a little sister along probably wouldn't endear Dustin to his friends, as kind as they all seemed. No, she would find her own way.

And there it was, right in front of her. Albus Potter was surreptitiously sliding the door to his compartment closed, despite the two empty seats within. Probably hiding from his undeserved fame, and unwanted familial visits. But Sarah wasn't family; she was much too close for that. Besides, she hadn't been introduced until after Harry and Dudley had reconciled, so for Albus, she took on more of the role of a friend than a cousin-once-removed, or whatever the term technically was.

So it was with a start and a sigh of relief that Albus and Rose looked up into Sarah's face as she abruptly withdrew the door shielding the two of them from the hall.

"It's just you…" laughed Albus, reassured.

"Just me?" asked Sarah, cocking an eyebrow in mock offense.

Albus and Rose looked at each other guiltily, but Rose explained, "We were just certain that Victoire or Dominique or one of those other infinite cousins of ours would certainly come and dote on us, and honestly, I think we'll have enough attention as it is. Or at least Albus will," she corrected herself. Though Ron and Hermione were close to Harry in fame, their children had not inherited this genetic renown. There were just too many Weasleys for the public to keep track. "I think that we'd just like to have a nice quiet ride."

"Agreed," replied Sarah. "Then this seat isn't taken?"

"Well…" Albus hesitated. "James said he'd be by later, but he only takes one seat, so go for it." Rose rolled her eyes. She had never engaged in the same level of James worship as Albus. Or any level for that matter. She quickly diverted herself by diving into a pocket on the front of her suitcase.

Sarah plopped herself down in the seat next to Albus, comfortable around familial friends. "So what do you guys have planned for the train ride?"

Albus looked around, surprised he had been asked to plan ahead. "I dunno," he said. "I'm planning on loading up on sweets once the cart comes by, but until then…talk I guess. Catch up with any friends who come along."

Sarah nodded congenially. "That sounds like a good plan. Any topics in particular?" Albus looked lost, but Rose was more than prepared.

"Well," she interjected, withdrawing the searched for object from her suitcase, and spreading the huge cover story across Albus and Sarah's laps. Sarah barely had time to register a burnt-out wasteland, like an atomic crater in the middle of a city, before Rose whipped the newspaper back to stare at the story. After a moment, she paused, looked up over the edge of the paper, and asked pointedly, "What do the two of you think of the Glasgow Fiendfyre?"

"Wow," interjected Albus, "Right down to the grim and serious. No time for 'How do you do?' or 'How were your holidays?'"

Rose scowled, pure danger glinting in her eye. "I only ask because I know that Sarah has had experience with Fiendfyre before, correct?"

Sarah nodded, an odd stirring inside her gut at the image of destruction now being folded and thrust back into Rose's bag. "Yeah," she confirmed warily. "But I don't remember much of it." She shook herself, as if trying to ward off a chill. It was true that she didn't remember much of that day, though what she did remember had blended into years of nightmares, homogenizing the entire mixture into a grimy blend of invention and reality.

The facts of that night were simple, though the remembered experience had been distorted through the years. She and her parents had been kidnapped by a mad rogue witch, or pair of witches, though one remained undiscovered even now, in order to get at Albus's dad, Harry. As Dudley and Harry had recently reunited and repaired a formerly dysfunctional relationship, and because of the irresistible blood ties between them, Harry was certain to come to the Dursley's aid. After all, even without the reconcilement, they were the only surviving memory that his mother had ever lived.

However, the witches plan had failed to account for Sarah, who had, through accidental use of underage magic, slipped through their magical bondage and by no more than luck and coincidence, released her parents as well. The three of them made their way through the booby-trapped house to the front lawn, where the only witch of the pair to reveal herself, Brista Fang, was single-handedly resisting the siege of dozens of Aurors. Fortunately, at just the moment she was about to strike the killing blow against the squad, she offered to Harry a bargain: the lives of the Dursleys and everyone in his squad in exchange for his own. She ranted madly about the fate of the purebloods, but these were generally dismissed as rather uncreative lunacy. Fortunately, this had given Dudley time to get behind her, and disable her with a swift blow to the face. During the engagement however, her wand had snapped, releasing a torrent of Fiendfyre that rapidly engulfed the house, in which Sarah was still waiting.

However, due to the inexplicable protection of underage magic and speedy action by her father, she was able to escape the house unharmed. That was really all she knew of the night, and about all that anyone did. Brista Fang escaped with some creative use of the Polyjuice Potion, and the other unidentified witch had never been seen by anyone but the Dursleys. The Fiendfyre had destroyed all the evidence, and the slim threads Aurors were left to pick at led no where. So, with a few years of subtle ministry protection, the Dursleys were declared safe and the file was closed, save an outdated warrant for the arrest of Brista Fang.

"So…" prompted Rose expectantly. Sarah didn't respond, she was still stuck in a mire of thought. "Nothing?" completed Rose.

Sarah shook her head. "Sorry," she replied. "Harry might be a better source, at least he remembers it."

Rose sighted melodramatically. "I've already asked him, but he just feigned ignorance. There's an Auror investigation into the matter right now, so he's not allowed to talk about it."

"What a drag," replied Sarah sardonically, but Rose seemed to take it for sincerity.

"I know, isn't it? We're only kids, what could he expect us to do for a little information?"

"Well he did managed to protect the Philosopher's Stone from Voldemort at our age, so probably quite a bit," reminded Albus.

"Yes, but if we go by the scale of what our parents accomplished at our ages, they wouldn't be letting us out of the house. The world is simply much safer now." Sarah shrugged. She wasn't entirely sure she agreed, but knew better than to argue with Rose.

Albus was gazing out the window sleepily, watching the countryside gallop past, fading greenery becoming an organic blur of browns and more vibrant patches. "I have a question," posed Sarah. "Does anyone know where Hogwarts actually is?"

"Oh no, of course not," replied Rose matter-of-factly. "And don't try to figure it out. It took years for people to even ascertain it was in Scotland, because the harder you try to figure it out, the more nonsensical the evidence becomes. There's a list of confirmed facts in Hogwarts: A History but none of them point to any certain conclusions."

"Hmm…" replied Sarah, interested. "I guess mysteries are just part of magic. Seems to me that it would drive me mad, if I were really interested in that kind of stuff."

Rose nodded. "There are more than a few whom it has. But I guess most wizards and witches just learn to—" but before she could finish her thought, the door slammed open with a violence far exceeding any practical measure of necessity for opening such a well oiled door. Sarah jumped at the crash, but kept her calm, as did Albus, which was fortunate, because standing behind the door was Scorpius Malfoy, and two cronies.

Scorpius looked so like his father it was almost unremarkable, as if the same person had merely been given the unfortunate gift of a dual adolescence. If she tried to pick out a difference, perhaps she would say that his nose was a little narrower, his scowl a little less sure of itself, and his arrogance a little less omnipresent. He was just Draco in a world where his family had nothing but a large fortune, instead of favor in the Ministry. Behind him were two goons, one clearly a young Goyle, huge, broad, dense power, nearly shaved head, features hidden under rolls of flesh, like a bloodhound. An oafish, but surprisingly friendly grin was spread across his face. The other one was taller, though he was probably barely above Sarah's height, and had the strange look of an anemic man who had taken up body-building. His muscles were impressive, but they looked all wrong on his frame, as if some Dr. Frankenstein had sown them on, not caring to attach them to a specimen ready to receive them.

"Potter," hissed Malfoy.

"Malfoy," replied Albus nonchalantly. "I see you found a replacement for Crabbe. Does this one know what happened to the last one?"

"I'd prefer you didn't mock my father's dead friends," barked Scorpius. "And yes, this is Cato." Cato flexed his muscles threateningly, though it ended up looking odd, like a poorly made mannequin's awkward movements.

Albus looked to be on the verge of reminding Scorpius that his father's "friend" Crabbe had been an insubordinate killer, almost destroying Malfoy himself in his carelessness. But Albus thought better of it and simply stated, "I take it you didn't just come down here to chat. Anything in particular you would like to address."

"No," spat Scorpius. "I mean yes, there is something particular, no I didn't just come to chat…" he caught himself, realizing he was bumbling like a fool through his speech.

"What I've come to say is this Potter, so clean out your ears, I don't want to have to repeat myself." He attempted to regain his angle of derision. "I don't want to have anything to do with you, ever, the entire time we're at Hogwarts. I just wanted to clear that up now, so that you don't forget and go trying to stick your skinny little nose where it doesn't belong." Sarah looked over at Albus. He seemed not to be reacting, though she could detect that only his superior position in regards to their history was helping him keep his anger in check, though he seemed to almost laugh at the skinny nose remark, especially coming from Scorpius. "There's far too much history between our fathers for us to ever be friends, or true enemies, so I don't think we need to burden ourselves with an already loaded relationship." Albus nodded, though his face was scowling. It was a sensible proposal. "I'm not saying we should, how do they say it, 'Bury the hatchet,' but let's just ignore it. Leave it to people with nothing better to do."

Albus considered Malfoy's offer. "Fine," he stated calmly. "I've got better things to do than teach another sniveling bully a lesson." Malfoy's fists clenched, and Cato's eyes flashed dangerously, but the insult went otherwise unnoticed.

Malfoy seemed unaccustomed to being slurred, for his mouth worked furiously for a few seconds, like a caught fish trying to communicate with its captors. Finally, he settled on a response. "And I've got better things to do than humble the arrogant, undeserving brat of some long-forgotten celebrity."

Albus bit his tongue, and Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, ready to jump up between them should a brawl erupt. The combined genetic tempers of Harry and Ginny were not the kindest thing to Albus's emotions, and Sarah prayed silently that he could reign in his tongue. Scorpius looked cool and confident that his insult had met its mark, till Albus quipped: "Well? What are you waiting for? If you're still trying to catch a glimmer of attention it won't work."

Scorpius's thin nostrils flared. He looked furious at himself that he hadn't left with the last word, and let Potter get in a final jibe. But it was clearly a dismissal, and even Scorpius wasn't fool enough to pick a fight before school had even begun, so he turned curtly on his heel and marched away. Cato followed him closely, as Goyle closed the door, waving strangely affably as he did so.

Once their shapes had vanished through the misted glass, Albus sighed, slumping forward, elbows on his knees and rubbed his temples. "God, I hope he was serious about ignoring me," he spat. "He's just one more thing I don't want to deal with."

Rose nodded sympathetically. "It's true. Nastiness seems to just be genetic in that family. At least they don't have a leader to attach themselves to anymore."

"Doesn't mean they can't be bloody annoying," muttered Albus.

"Yeah," agreed Sarah quietly, then musing: "I wonder if Cato is a first or a last name."

Rose considered the question seriously. "Historically, it has been a first, and not associated with the most benevolent of people. But Malfoy does seem to have a penchant for last names, so it really could be either." She furrowed her brow in thought. "He seemed like a nasty piece of work. Just an awkward weakling trying to make a name for himself in entirely the wrong way."

"He certainly did seem to be overcompensating," added Sarah. "Goyle seemed positively friendly compared to him. Though Goyle almost seemed friendly by himself, whatever that means."

"I believe that was simply the influence of his mother," informed Rose. "Gregory Goyle went to Azkaban years ago, trying to start some kind of wizarding mafia. It failed spectacularly, but left his wife, who he chose only for her blood, and his son alone. So who knows? Perhaps this young Goyle is a kind soul deep down inside."

"Yeah," interjected Albus, "and maybe I'm part goblin, way back in my family tree." Sarah laughed softly, and Rose smothered a reluctant smile.

There was a comfortable pause as they settled in for the journey, but soon Sarah found herself wanting conversation. "So tell me about this Glasgow Fiendfyre," she asked kindly, humoring Rose.

Once again, Rose withdrew the paper from her bag, as if to cite it for evidence, though it seemed to Sarah that she had already memorized all her points. "Well," she started, "It's simple enough in the facts of the matter. A few nights ago, a little after midnight, Muggle firefighters responded to a call for a very severe fire. Five-alarm and all that, worst the city had seen in ages. The firefighters arrived, and tried to evacuate people, but they were taking a beating. Water did nothing, and even all those fancy chemicals they use seemed only to stymie the flames. As it happens, the ministry implants a wizard in almost every major city's emergency centers, just in case anything funny happens, and this wizard began to suspect that this wasn't any ordinary fire. It took him a while to figure out, but you can hardly blame him, Fiendfyre is the kind of dangerous stuff that no one has really seen since, well…" she struggled for the appropriate mixture of exaggeration and truth. "…probably the Middle Ages." She nodded, satisfied at her placement.

"Anyway, he managed to get some Magical Emergency Disaster Crew on the scene, and they could control it until the Ministry showed up with real firepower," she paused for a moment. "Pardon the pun, I assure you it was unintentional." It took Sarah a moment to even realize there had been one.

"So what happened in the end?" asked Albus. It was nice to see that she was not the only one clueless to wizarding news.

Rose just flashed the picture of the gutted city block. "They extinguished it eventually, but not after…well this." She motioned to the destruction.

There was a silence for a moment as Sarah examined the picture. The paper was black and white, but Sarah doubted it would have appeared much different even in color. Dismayed and awestruck residents picked through the ashen remains of their homes, some begging for mercy from the reader, gesticulating wildly, others…just sitting. The ash seemed to be rising from the ground to absorb them into itself. Sarah wondered if even the charred remnants, the very ash was imbued with a malevolent spirit of destruction, the way it seemed to clog the scene, an almost spiritual dominance of the destroyed block.

"So?" asked Albus. At first Sarah was a little disgusted at his lack of sympathy, until she realized he was merely prompting Rose to continue. One thing that Rose had not yet learned was how to conceal when she wanted to say something. Her internal arguments seemed to be inscribed upon her face.

"Well, I just think that it's perhaps a bit odder than most people notice. Have you heard of the Irish wildfires?" Albus and Rose shook their heads. "No, they haven't been covered much in the news, they've never gotten enough fuel to get out of control, but nonetheless, Muggle authorities have been having an unusually difficult time extinguishing them. Rather odd, wouldn't you say, especially considering the wet season we've had this year? And I hardly need remind you that Ireland is hardly dry and woody at the best of times. Wildfires have almost never been a problem historically, and now, this year, there are large and unusual fires in the wilderness, and in cities?"

"So you think it's the same person?" inferred Albus, a little more intrigued than he had been previously.

"Yes." Rose looked rather smug, basking in the warmth of her discovery. "I think some wizard…"

"Or witch," interrupted Albus.

"Yes, or witch…" added Rose, exasperated. "Has been starting these fires. I can't tell their motive though. It seems that if they were just some sort of terrorist, they'd start in the cities first, before revealing their modus operandi out in the country side."

Albus looked confused, and Sarah hid behind it. "I'm not sure either of us understands," she stated, hoping for clarification.

"It just seems to me that if this wizard…or witch!" she added, raising a threatening finger to silence Albus's correction, "wanted to cause destruction, they wouldn't go about warning everyone that they knew how to make Fiendfyre, and were willing to do it, by spreading it around in the wilderness before they attacked the city."

"Maybe they needed practice?" suggested Sarah.

"Possibly," mused Rose, "But it seems that with a spell like Fiendfyre, practice would be unnecessary. Once you had it down, you would most certainly know, and the destruction would be accomplished, so your only concern would be getting away."

Albus sat up, ready to contribute. "So you're thinking this vandal…" Rose scoffed at his choice of words. "What?" asked Albus.

"Calling a person capable of using Fiendfyre to achieve their destructive desires a vandal is like calling…Oh I don't know, Voldemort a rabble-rouser."

Albus frowned. "Is Fiendfyre that serious?"

"Yes," insisted Rose firmly. "Until recently, the Ministry had it declared as a dead spell, that is a spell with its incantation lost. Apparently they were wrong, and now it has been moved up to a pier of illegality just below the Unforgivables."

"Wow," marveled Sarah. "So this isn't some punk kid messing with the system, this is…"

"Someone with knowledge. Someone with the power to use such a dangerous weapon, and the madness to do it, someone…" But once again, she was interrupted by a rap on the door, though this one was gentle and faint.

Sarah glanced around at Albus and Rose, but Albus just shrugged. The only visitor they were expecting was James, and a quiet tapping was not exactly his style. Sarah slid open the door to reveal a slightly nervous and distraught blonde girl, though that was hardly doing her justice. Even at eleven, Sarah could tell that this girl was stunningly beautiful, and would continue to be so. Her face was pale, but not sickly, as a tint of color splashed along her cheeks. Her hair was a golden yellow, not the silvery blonde that adorned the heads of some of their part-Veela cousins, but sunny, bright, and healthy, drier than Malfoy's, and not greasy, but without losing any of its splendor. It was very straight, a little past shoulder length, pushed behind her ears. Even as she opened the door, the girl was relegating some more that had fallen from her bangs to behind her ears, perhaps a kind of nervous tic, pushing her hair back. Her cheeks were full and round, though by no means anything but healthy, merely hiding any sharp lines her bones might impose on her smooth face. It was a slightly different, unconventional kind of beauty, but even now, Sarah could tell, this girl was a looker.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she started, her voice a low alto, corresponding to her above average height, "But the witch with the food cart is coming down the aisle, and she needs everyone to be in a seat."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Albus, rubbing his hands together, ignoring the girl in favor of her message. "I was getting hungry." The girl at the door bit her lip nervously, and pushed a few stray strands of hair back. She looked a little anxious, thought Sarah. She was probably a first year as well.

"And…all the other compartments are full," she clarified. "I was wondering if I could have this seat, at least until the food cart comes by."

Albus's face drooped a little. "Well…James said he would be by later on, and he probably would want a seat, but…" Sarah mentally kicked him. Eleven year old boys.

"Oh, don't worry about him, sit down," interrupted Sarah. And, as the girl slid into the seat across from her, she whispered into Albus's ear, patting his knee, "You'll thank me in a few years." Albus just looked perturbed.

"Besides," added Rose, "I was actually planning on leaving soon, visiting another compartment myself, though not of course, before introductions," she inserted tactfully. "Rose Weasley, I'm a first year, so I don't have a house yet."

"Albus, same as her, first year,"

"Sarah Dursley, and yeah,"

The girl smiled sociably, yet timidly as they introduced themselves, and completed the foursome. "Aurora Zyther, but you can call me Rory, most people do."

"Well, Aurora, it was lovely to meet you, but I actually have one more matter of business I would like to settle," said Rose.

"Business?" asked Albus, cocking his eyebrow. "We're not even to the school yet and you're already at business? Not even schooling?"

"Yes," hissed Rose. "Business." She smoothed her skirt professionally. None of them had changed into robes yet, so it was a little easier to imagine them at some kind of important Muggle financial meeting. "Now, I don't want you to misinterpret my desires here, but I simply feel like it would benefit all three of us if we made some friends outside of our direct family. Not that you aren't all lovely people," she assuaged gently, "but it just seems to me that it would be desirable to break down any clan mentality that might be forming among older Weasleys. You've already heard all the jokes about the family taking over the school I'm sure, and it just seems favorable to me that we disperse ourselves a bit. Do you follow my logic?"

Albus considered her for a moment. "I don't know…" he said. "I get what you're saying, but it's not like I spend all my time with my family. And Sarah's only technically family anyways."

"True," added Sarah, "but in a few years it might be nice for you to have a few female friends who aren't related to you. Just a thought."

Albus shrugged. "I suppose, if you're determined to find your own group, I can't stop you. I think I'll still be hanging out with Sarah though, right?"

Sarah smiled, flattered at his invitation. "Yes, quite," and looking across the aisle, she added, "and Rory too of course."

"Sure, why not?" asked Albus, craning his neck, trying to find the perfect niche in the headrest. He looked very catlike for an absurd moment.

"I believe I saw another group of first year girls with an open seat near the back of the train," said Rose, addressing no one in particular as she repacked the few objects she had removed from her sack. "I'll go see if there's anyone there remotely interesting. And this way it'll leave plenty of room open for your precious visit from…"

"James?" came a suave voice from the door, which had crept open without any of them noticing. Sarah and Rory jumped in their seats, but Rose just sighed.

"Honestly, we should put a lock on that thing."

"And keep me out? Certainly that's not what you meant." He looked pitifully over at Sarah, his lower lip slightly jutting out in a rude impression of simpering.

Sarah considered for a moment, and then replied. "Oh yes, most definitely. I'll be sure to bring one next time."

James just laughed off the insult, and swung himself recklessly around to cram between a rather surprised Rory and a rather irritated Rose. "By the way, 'Et tu, Albe?' I thought I told you to save me a seat. Not that I mind smashing between such lovely ladies," he added as an afterthought, calmly justifying his remark.

"One of whom is your cousin and the other is a complete stranger," reminded Rose, getting to her feet.

"Well, I can fix half those problems in a heartbeat," he shot back, and extended his hand to Rory. "James Potter,"

"Rory Zyther."

James looked back at Rose, shrugged winningly, and stated, "Easy." Rose just rolled her eyes, and groaned loudly, getting to her feet. "Rough name by the way," he added sympathetically, patting Rory's hand.

"Why?"

"For the Sorting I mean. Almost definitely last to go alphabetically, the novelty has worn off, hundreds of students waiting impatiently for food…No pressure," he added as she blanched.

Rose saved her from more unpleasant prophecy. "Well, I'm off to a compartment of eleven year old girls, probably to talk about make-up, and boys, and self-deprecate in exchange for social status. Simply fascinating." She spoke as venomously as if one of them had suggested it, instead of herself. Sarah wondered how long any female with Granger blood would be sufficient to skim along the shallow surface of life.

"Ah, the curse of womankind," remarked James drily. "To be a dozen fold the greatness of man and to think themselves the half part." He stretched lazily, very satisfied in his witticism.

"I don't think that's true," replied Sarah casually. She wasn't offended by his jab, but he had certainly left himself open for a riposte.

"And where do I err in my presumption?" asked James lazily, wafting the question like a scented candle through the narrow box.

"I know I'm better than you is all," she countered. "So I guess you were right about the first half." Rose snickered, even thus far quiet Rory allowed a smile to color her cheeks.

"Well," started James, clearly not knowing quite how to finish, "To be fair…I did specify womankind."

"Oh," laughed Sarah, now fully engaged in the battle, "So if you can't beat me with false witticisms you resort to straight out gender insults? A little below the caliber of debate, don't you think?"

"I take my victories where I find them," scoffed James, affronted that Sarah had even expected there to be any kind of rules in this game. "A man unwilling to claim an unorthodox victory will more often than not find himself…OUCH!" He exclaimed, as Sarah pounded his arm with her fist. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just taking my victories where I find them, however unorthodox they may be," laughed Sarah, swinging her fist again, though allowing him to dodge and deflect the blow.

"Scoundrel!" exclaimed James, but Albus was cracking up, his seat barely containing his mirth. Rory was laughing along too, but Rose was smashed between James and the wall, and was not finding it quite as amusing.

"Okay, okay!" she exclaimed. "I'm getting out of here before someone gets hurt, or in trouble." She leapt to her feet, grabbed her bag and hop-skipped over the various legs in her way to the door, followed closely by James.

"Rouge!" he cried, still shielding his body from imaginary blows. "Black-hearted, lily-livered…"

"Who's the one retreating?" probed Sarah, making a feint with her shoulders, causing James to jump back against the door, leaving it rattling like an angry bee in a tin cup.

James regained his composure and sniffed regally. "I take my leave, before this maiden can further soil my honor!" He swept out of the cart with the dignity of deposed king.

Albus took a few minutes to recompose himself, still chuckling as he congratulated Sarah on a well-fought mental and occasionally physical duel. "I normally side with James on these things," he explained, "but that's only because he's often the underdog, because of age. It was nice to see him take a beating."

"Where does he get that stuff?" asked Rory, her first real contribution to the conversation. "Does he read lots of Shakespeare? Or Wilde?"

Albus paused to consider. "I think he used to. Or at least, he would read about it. There have always been lots of jokesters in my family, immediate and extended, and I think he wanted a personal flair, his own style."

"Well he certainly has that," laughed Sarah. "I wouldn't touch it with a pole the length of this train." But her continuation was interrupted by the rumble of cartwheels and a tap at the door.

"Oh boy!" exclaimed Albus, his face resetting as if the entire day prior had vanished in the face of this new development. "Snacks!"

Alright everyone, tell me what you think! I'm open to suggestions, and the next chapter will be up one week from today.