Assembly in the Great Hall, was held directly after the last plates were cleared from breakfast. The babble from students catching up on what had happened over the holidays, was extraordinary: the presents they'd received, what they'd eaten, their amusing haircuts and other, similar trivia.

'Quiet!' Dippet bellowed.

'Welcome back to every one of you. In a moment, staff notices, but the purpose of this assembly is to bring together several year groups. Fifth formers to Professor Rose Zysman in Room 7, upper sixth to Mr Bennet from Ministry Liaison in Room 2C. Also, would all first formers remain behind in the Great Hall afterwards. Professor Slughorn will be taking you through your Primary Options.'

Nervousness, like a tightening rope, gripped the first form. It was true, that important exams were some way off, but Dippet was keen to let pupils know that education was their responsibility too. It was never too early to think about what your long-term strengths might be. Primary Options were a harmless way of testing the level of guidance students would need, when making academic decisions. Later on when the stakes rose, O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s would dominate their lives and haunt their dreams.

After the rest of the school had left, several teachers presented stand-up summaries, highlighting the merits of their particular subjects. Usually ending with a reference to O.W.L.s, despite them being over four years away. Pupils could pick three of four options, so the choice at this stage was limited. Elementary potions; basic arithmancy; an introduction to transfiguration concepts and muggle study fundamentals. For most it was no choice at all. Muggle studies was a soft option, for those that were particularly weak at one of the other three.

At the end, students were asked to write their three options on a scrap of parchment; they should include their full name and drop it in a cauldron at the front of the hall. Gary Box was folding his up, which irritated Dippet.

'Try not to fold the parchment, Mr Box. We're not holding a secret ballot.'

Tom joined the line and smiled at Slughorn. Then he dropped his parchment into the cauldron.

'Tom?!' Slughorn sounded hurt. 'Muggle fundamentals...? Instead of transfiguration??' He'd quickly read Tom's options upside-down.

'I grew up in the muggle world, Professor, so I'm interested in how it's viewed. From a magical and academic point of view, of course.'

Tom made his decision last term, so had time to concoct an answer designed to discourage any teacher enquiries. Professionally, Slughorn couldn't criticise the muggle studies department any further; however, he did hold onto his injured expression for the rest of the session.

The first formers were given a temporary timetable for next week, written on a movable blackboard. They were also promised that option group timetables would be ready the following morning. One of the house-elves — Aelfric — had exceptional calligraphy skills and looked forward to writing up timetables. He was given a whole evening to do it and excused kitchen duties; always reminding his colleagues that: a change is as good as a rest.

Ten days later, in Room 6B, high up in Hogwarts Castle, the first muggle study fundamentals class met.

Tom entered the spacious room and saw only one other pupil there. Brian Downer, or Distant Downer as he was often referred to. He lived in his own universe, drifting gently from daydream to daydream, with no one at the wheel. Leaded diamond windows with flashes of green and red stained glass, ran along the back of the classroom, flooding it with light. There were twenty-four antique desks facing a table and blackboard at the front. A number of muggle artefacts were presented in glass and walnut cases, including a pogo stick, some stamps, a loofah and an egg cosy. On the wall were several posters. One for a West-end play, another for a popular film and the last was a recruitment poster for the armed services. It showed a smiling soldier, playing football with his friends. The meaning of these artefacts was obvious to Tom, but a mystery to most first formers at Hogwarts. A mystery they had no interest in solving.

There was a functional wood and brass clock above the desk, which made a clop every sixty seconds as the minute hand advanced. Still no teacher had appeared and the class should have started several minutes ago.

Tom heard Mrs Cronin, before she was visible. Jubilant and carrying a jumble of items, she dropped them on the desk, then back-heeled the door behind her. How could a teacher be happy with a class of two pupils? Tom had heard all about Dorothy Cronin during lunch. Bill Howard referred to her as Dotty-Dot Cronin, when he gave Tom a brief history of the teacher and her exploits.

She was smiling broadly because Tom was in her class. The rumours of his ability had reached her too. Possibly the brightest pupil to be admitted in centuries and here he was; in her class. Transfiguration was never an option for Tom, as long as Dumbledore was running it; he was determined to avoid him at all costs. Besides, Tom could read around the subject, that wasn't a problem. Being watched by someone following your every move, was.

'Tom, lovely to see you and I expect you're Brian?' Downer nodded faintly.

'Super. Let's get underway. For today's lesson, I'd like you two...' She was interrupted, mid-flow, by a knock at the door.

Dotty clasped her hands together in delight. More pupils!

'Come in, come in, welcome, please take a seat. Plenty of room for everyone.' She exhaled deeply. 'I can't tell you how smashing it is to see you all.'

Three girls. So Brian straightened up.

Dotty continued.

'Now, in muggle society, this would be an excellent opportunity to formally introduce yourselves. If you could give me your names and houses.'

The first girl was especially chirpy and piped up immediately. 'Hi there, my name's Vivian Mitchell. From Chicago, Illinois, a long way from home and... Well... That's me. Also, I'm a Ravenclaw.'

Next, a shy girl whose eyes were only half-raised towards Cronin.

'My name's Eudora, from County Meath. In Ireland. Near Trim. Eudora Pippincraft. Is my whole name, my full name... I meant to say... I'm in Ravenclaw too. So...' Then she stared at the empty blackboard with a worried expression.

The last girl looked up, glanced sideways at Tom for an instant, then addressed the rest of the class.

'Hello everyone, I'm Betty Garrow, from Paris. Originally from London, but living in Paris till recently. I transferred from Beauxbatons Academy this term. I think that.' She looked at the other two girls. 'I'm in Slytherin?' Eudora nodded vigorously.

Tom had seen Vivian around; she was often holding court in corridors. She had away of standing with both hands on her hips, that forced you to stop and notice. Pretty, but no shrinking violet, was how Gary had summed her up. Eudora was softly spoken and Tom may have passed her between classes, but wasn't sure. She had a sweet nature and wore her hair in side plaits, like a girl half her age. When Tom met Betty's eyes, something stirred in his stomach, nerves, happiness, fear? Either way, he had no interest in encouraging any feelings; Tom was still smarting from Judith's deceit.

Betty had shoulder-length, black hair, plump lips, wafting eyelashes and striking, sapphire eyes. Something about her natural movement, suggested a kind person; humble, but confident of her feelings. Tom realised he was evaluating Betty with interest and turned his attention back to Cronin.

'Today we'll review the syllabus, but next lesson, the plan is to engage in full muggle conversations. Discussing our personal histories to stimulate interest. So you're in for a lovely treat.'

Brian Downer yawned without sparing Cronin's feelings. When she stopped talking, her smile twitched several times, before an emergency team of facial muscles took over.

* * * * *

One of the perks of taking options, was that library periods were different for different classes. While transfiguration lessons were running, the muggle fundamentals class had a near-empty library to themselves. Tom sat elsewhere and Brian Downer was in a leather armchair beside the reception desk. Pretending to read for the first few minutes, before his head tipped back and the book fell into his lap.

At the far end, Eudora, Betty and Vivian found some seats. A cosy nook, well lit and protected on two sides by a wall and window; in front, filed like dominoes and smelling of dust, were two dozen bookshelves. Only a handful of older pupils were studying, presumably for mock O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Talking during library periods was not allowed, but almost the entire school was in lessons, so they wouldn't be disturbed for the next hour.

Vivian had her back to the wall, blouse top button undone and tie loosened; Betty's tie was immaculate: a small knot, with an art deco brooch below. She sat to Vivian's right, facing the window. Eudora, opposite Vivian, instantly regretted her choice; now she couldn't see anyone approaching from behind. Several boys had gently pulled her plaits, while walking between lessons on Monday afternoon. Betty assured Eudora that they just wanted her to notice them, but weren't brave enough to say so. She cheered up briefly, before deciding that that might be the case, if you were as pretty as Betty.

Vivian had some chocolate, which she broke, then handed pieces to her two friends. As she put a piece near her mouth, all of it vanished.

'Oh yeah. No food in the library, I keep forgetting that. So Betty, tell me about Beauxbatons Academy. Daddy was tossing Beauxbatons around when we came over to Europe, but, you know? We speak English and where else do they speak English? In England right, so it was pretty much a done deal. What's it like? Nice French boys?'

Eudora desperately wanted to correct Vivian: that this was Scotland, not England. Instead, she tried to hide her chuckle at the mention of French boys; Vivian always turned the conversation around to boys. She'd already been on three dates back in the States, though none of them serious by her own admission.

Eudora's neighbours back in Ireland had a son, but he never spoke to her; there were only nine other pupils in her class and six of them were girls. In all honesty, she'd never known any boys.

Betty smiled, as if remembering something she wasn't keen to share; then she looked up. 'We lived in Paris, but Beauxbatons is much further south, in the mountains and very cold in the winter. French boys? I... No... No one really. Some good friends. I miss them and get homesick occasionally, but I'm here now.'

Vivian smiled knowingly, recognising a raw nerve had been touched. Eudora just looked relieved, Betty was like her: a long way from home. Plus, she was the most fashionable girl Eudora had ever seen, let alone met. She was cool. Eudora had picked up the word cool from Vivian, whose father — a jazz fanatic — used it constantly around the house.

The surprising truth was that Betty didn't care about being cool or stylish. She'd been nothing but supportive and caring towards Eudora, during the short time that they'd known one another. Vivian was brasher and almost without sentimentality, but her conversations were risqué and exciting. Eudora would do anything for Betty. That was part of Betty's charm: you would do anything for her, but she would never ask you to. In the weeks before starting at Hogwarts, Eudora had hardly slept. She knew no one would speak to her and everyone would be intelligent and funny.

Eudora had lived near the east coast of Ireland all her life. She imagined globe-trotting, sophisticated students, who would tire of her simple stories and conversation. Betty had sat down next to her in the Great Hall, on the first day of spring term — when she'd been at her most vulnerable — and complimented Eudora on her smile. If she thought about her relief at the time, pinpricks of tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

They'd fallen in together. Eudora spent far too much of her first term alone, on the fringe of groups, but never really in them. The contrast of having friends was so stark. Her and Betty had passed Vivian in the cobbled courtyard after their first meeting. She was standing with her hands on her hips and announced that Betty was the coolest, most fashionable girl in the entire first form. A compliment she tried to downplay, saying they all wore the same uniform, but the three quickly gelled. Something Eudora could hardly believe, even now. She'd had friends before, but never cool friends.

'What about Tom though?' Vivian flipped her eyebrows up. Betty, looked away quickly, missed by Eudora, but a dead giveaway to Vivian.

'He's...' Betty shrugged, genuinely stuck.

'He's nice.' Vivian finished Betty's sentence, then burst into infectious laughter.

'Shhh, shh,' Betty pleaded with her eyes and smiled at the same time.

'How 'bout you Dora?' Vivian had already shortened her name.

'Me?' Eudora whispered, genuinely shocked.

Vivian's expression changed to curiosity, when she saw emotion flash across Eudora's face.

'Wait, don't tell me you're a fan of Tom's too?'

Eudora couldn't breathe and her cheeks glowed like they'd been buffed with wire wool; she tried to speak but her breathing was now so shallow, nothing came out. She'd gone from happy to traumatised, in fractions of a second.

'Me, no! I'm not the type. Or his type, I expect? I don't know. I'm sure he likes Betty.' There were notes of desperation in her voice.

Betty laid a palm over the back of Eudora's hand, to reassure her and she instantly felt calmer.

'He's something of a handful though?' Vivian crossed her eyes briefly.

Betty started to giggle and the other two joined in. The moment passed and they discussed other things, but Eudora had escaped lightly. She had stern words with herself later that evening, when writing her diary.

Eudora could not afford to be so poorly prepared. She had a favourite dream: to live in a cottage beside the sea, with lots of animals, lots of children and a husband. She never wanted to think who else would be involved, or how it might happen. She just liked imagining that one day, everything would slot into place. She'd imagined her children, the animals, the cottage, inside and out, but never until their first muggle studies class, had she imagined someone else. Her future husband was always left blank.

She didn't want to be Tom's girlfriend. She didn't in all honesty, know how to be a girlfriend and considered herself too young. Eudora shuddered. She was imagining her mother's shocked face, at being introduced to any kind of a boyfriend. Mummy, this is Tom. The horror! Eudora wanted to meet someone like Tom later, as an adult and for him to ask for her hand in marriage. There, she'd admitted it. She also wanted to stop imagining him in their cottage during muggle studies classes, but he kept reappearing. Usually with a cup of tea and news about young Pandora discovering blackberries at the bottom of the garden, or some other snippet of family life. It was how she got through difficult times and it never failed to make her happy.

Unfortunately, Tom appeared to like Betty and Betty was the last person she could ever disappoint. Eudora's life had become much more interesting during the last few weeks, but much more confusing too.

* * * * *

The first week of February brought fierce blizzard conditions and a siege mentality swept through Hogwarts. For four days the wind droned and dunes of snow drifted up the walls of the castle, covering the lower windows.

Pupils wore scarves and bobble-hats to lessons and if you didn't eat your hot meals immediately, they quickly cooled to lukewarm. The school population appeared to swell, as no one was ever outside. Corridors were damp, congested and noisy between lessons, quidditch was cancelled and there were few opportunities for pupils to vent their energy.

Tom was enjoying some fresh air in the Fountain Courtyard, along with dozens of other pupils. Sheltered from the icy wind lashing the outer walls, a flake or two settled on the frosted cobbles. The fountain had frozen mid-flow and its cascading ice was dusted with snow.

'I'm off,' Gary tapped Tom on the shoulder, 'library period.'

'Have fun.' Tom raised his eyebrows.

'It's not too late to join us in transfiguration you know, I asked. You're wasting your time with Dotty.'

'You sound like Slughorn.'

'Well. He's right for once.' Gary smiled as another thought entered his head. 'Sure it's not so you can get close to our Betty? Betty The Beauty Garrow.'

Tom shook his head as he climbed the tower staircase to muggle studies. He had no intention of joining Dumbledore, besides which, he enjoyed muggle studies. It was all about the place he knew best.

Tom sat three rows back and Brian sat at the desk nearest the door: the shortest route in and out. The three girls sat in the front row, to Tom's left. You could sit anywhere, but this arrangement suited everyone, so they stuck to it. Cronin came in carrying a cup of tea, an affectation she'd adopted to connect her to the subject; like French teachers eating croissants for breakfast.

'I'd like you to move your desks together: two rows of three facing each other would be splendid. Please, no deliberate scraping, Brian. We're having a full-lesson exercise: muggle socialising!' Cronin looked directly at Tom and beamed.

She loved teaching and if there was one thing that got her leaping out of bed in the morning, it was a star pupil. Tom was making her the talk of Hogwarts' staff room. The last few weeks were the most enjoyable she'd had, since taking up her post six years earlier: six years of being invisible. Last night she'd spent all evening in her study, devising this exercise. Happy times.

Cronin explained that they would get to know one another as muggles do, by having several, stimulating conversations.

'You must imagine we've just met, say in the street, or a bus queue and ask questions. There's no magic available to discover those important, little details; muggles have to ask the right questions. After five minutes the top row will shuffle down and we'll all take a turn with someone else. I'll be joining in to make up numbers. Then we'll write down what we've learned on the board. Everyone clear? Brian?'

For the next half hour or so, they shifted seats until each of them had asked and answered a range of questions.

Vivian and Brian:

VIVIAN: 'Hi, where are you from?'

BRIAN: 'I'm currently based in the accounts department.'

VIVIAN: 'We're just pretending to be at work, Brian. It's make believe.'

BRIAN: 'I'm from Newcastle.'

VIVIAN: 'Is that near London?'

BRIAN: 'No.'

VIVIAN: 'What's your favourite food?'

BRIAN: 'Bread, I s'pose.'

There was an exceptionally long pause, during which Vivian nodded to encourage Brian. Eventually he responded.

'Where are you from?'