Bagsy didn't catch sight of the muggle boy again during the summer holidays. She was oddly disappointed – as scary as meeting a muggle had been, she realised after the fact that she was fascinated by him and his life, and regretted her shyness for preventing her from learning more about a real-life muggle.
Her loneliness was slowly waning, however, as she soon found that, even if she couldn't meet her friends in person, that didn't mean she couldn't hear from them.
Greenda sent Bagsy more letters that summer than Bagsy had received her whole life. She spilled on and on about how nervous she was for the Ordinary Wizarding Levels she'd have to take at the end of the school year, and how she'd already drawn up revision timetables to follow from the first day of the school; she needed top grades if she wanted to be a healer. Greenda was also raving about the Rocketing Unicorns, her favourite Quidditch team, who had finally found success and won some matches. Apparently, the Rocketing Unicorns were a team composed of players who'd grown up around the area Greenda lived in, Middle Frogton, and her entire town was filled with posters and flags in colours of white and red to support them.
When Bagsy asked Bontie if she'd heard of the team, Bontie was very defensive.
'Of course, I've never heard of them. Why on earth would you think I had? Such nonsense,' she'd spluttered, most suspiciously. Bagsy had been confused but didn't think much of it.
In response to Greenda's letter, Bagsy had sent her the rough blueprints she'd made for the new brooms, and had received both praise and recommendations in equal measure. Greenda seemed fascinated by how well Bagsy understood the workings of brooms and Bagsy couldn't help puffing out her chest a little when Greenda wrote that she was "the most ingenious first year I've ever met!" Though, coming the new school year, Bagsy would be a second year student. It was strange to think about it. She'd grown used to being a first year.
Greenda didn't understand how brooms were made, but she knew more about their features than Bagsy, and helped point out what they were missing. For one, Greenda said they needed aerodynamic bristles or anti-altitude charms. Not wasting a moment, Bagsy had set to work fixing this as best she could, but soon realised some features required spells and couldn't be supplemented by parts. It almost made her want to give up, but she swallowed her bitterness and focussed on what she could do.
After exchanging a few letters with Greenda, Bagsy was getting into the swing of writing to friends. So much so, she felt brave enough to send a letter to Mezrielda. In a strange way, Bagsy reckoned she preferred Mezrielda's company slightly more than Greenda's. She couldn't explain why, especially when Greenda had never insulted or played tricks on her like Mezrielda had or annoyed her in the way Mezrielda did. Bagsy guessed that being closer in age may have something to do with it. Greenda was fifteen while she was soon to be twelve, and there were things Greenda had experienced and understood that she could only dream of. Mezrielda, on the other hand, seemed on the same page as Bagsy a lot more than Greenda was. Then again, Bagsy thought, there was little use in comparing her friends; having even one was a miracle, let alone two. She could only count herself as extremely lucky.
Her first letter to Mezrielda was very informal, simply asking if Mezrielda could help her with her brooms by casting some charms on them and enquiring how she was doing. When she'd received a letter waxed sealing with a G for Glint Bagsy felt embarrassed by her own rushed correspondence. Mezrielda's writing was perfectly neat, as if a charmed quill had detailed calligraphy onto the page, and not a human being. The spelling was perfect, naturally, as was the grammar. Or, at least, Bagsy assumed it was. She supposed she had no way of checking, given how bad she was at it, and felt the need to consult at least two dictionaries when interpreting what Mezrielda had responded with.
Mezrielda rightly pointed out that it wasn't a good idea to ask a Slytherin to bewitch Hufflepuff brooms. If something went wrong, Mezrielda could be accused of sabotage. In Bagsy's response she assured Mezrielda that wouldn't be the case, that no one would know Mezrielda had cast the charms, and that nothing would go wrong with the brooms, anyway. Mezrielda didn't seem convinced.
Bagsy wasn't sure what else to write to her, so instead she asked what Mezrielda had been doing. Mezrielda's only response of "working and enjoying the holiday" was not the conversation starter Bagsy had hoped for. Still, it was nice to receive letters. It was some sign that her year at Hogwarts had actually happened, and that she wasn't completely alone and isolated in Aesher Common forever.
There was never an issue of guessing which of her two friends were writing; it was easy to tell which owl belonged to who when they arrived. Greenda's letters came from a barn owl that made no noise and loved to tilt its head at Bagsy and blink its large, black eyes patiently as she wrote her reply. Ever friendly and, despite Bagsy's initial worries, only wanting to play with her pet rats, Bill and Jill, Bagsy highly preferred Greenda's owl to Mezrielda's. Bill would lie lazily in front of Greenda's owl who'd gently drag her claws along the rat's back in some kind of massage. Jill would play a game of hide and seek with the barn owl which at first seemed deadly, but once Greenda's owl 'caught' Jill the owl would set the rat free, giving a triumphant fluttering of her wings. Meanwhile, if Jill managed to escape, she'd chitter tauntingly at the frustrated barn owl.
Mezrielda's owl, though, was a nasty bird with white, dark brown and black feathers and fierce amber eyes like two burning suns, and Bagsy wondered if it was the world's largest owl. Sometimes, when it spread its wings out, Bagsy thought it might be bigger than her, and got the distinctive feeling, watching those sharp talons approach the windowsill, that this was what it felt like to be a mouse. She would let out a low whistle as Mezrielda's owl approached and Bill and Jill would scamper and hide in their cage. Jill had figured out how to shut the door herself, and even lock it, so that when Mezrielda's owl arrived it could only glare balefully at its would-be snacks.
Mezrielda's owl also liked to peck at Bagsy when she took too long writing her reply, which she found frightfully awful. She'd duck away with panicked yelps and lock herself in her walk-in-wardrobe, huddling amongst the coats at the back, the owl hooting aggressively outside, until she'd finished writing. Mezrielda had informed Bagsy that her owl was an eagle owl, and that it wasn't her fault if she couldn't deal with its aggression.
Even if Mezrielda's owl was a pain, seeing its silhouette on the horizon, or Greenda's barn owl, gave Bagsy strength. If it hadn't been for her communications with her friends, she knew she'd have been miserable.
By the time summer was nearly over Bagsy was missing human company. She'd seen maybe half an hour in total of her parents that summer when, on her birthday, they'd spared a few moments to take her to Diagon Alley and buy her a bunch of stuff she didn't care about or want. Bagsy guessed that, in her parent's minds, it made up for missing the birthday supper she'd had that evening with her sister and, to be fair, it was the first birthday in memory where she'd actually seen her parents in person, which was a marked improvement.
Bagsy's sister was very busy at the Ministry, yet she'd managed to create a wonderful feast for Bagsy to enjoy as she had turned twelve and had even presented her with a hand sewn quilt of black and yellow, the Hufflepuff colours, that changed its thickness depending on how warm or cold Bagsy was.
'How did you find time to make this?' Bagsy asked.
'I've been working on it below my desk at work any chance I get,' her sister revealed. 'Don't tell my boss,' she'd added, with a wink that, the moment Bagsy turned away to inspect the quilt, faded into an exhausted, and deeply concerned, expression. Bagsy noticed the change out of the corner of her eye but thought better than to mention it. Bontie looked like someone who was sliding down an icy incline towards a gaping hole, unable to slow herself. It wasn't an expression Bagsy thought wise to ask about.
'Are those missing creatures still causing a lot of trouble?' Bagsy said instead.
Bontie tilted her head to the side, considering her answer. 'There's still a lot of work to be done to find them, a lot of reports to write regarding damage control, but most of the work now is on ensuring no resurgence of the Magical Being Movement. It's frustrating, because there's no evidence the creatures being rescued-' She cut off sharply. 'Stolen,' she corrected herself, 'had anything to do with the Magical Being Movement. The two are entirely unrelated, as I keep trying to prove to the Ministry.'
Bagsy frowned. 'Magical Being Movement?'
'MBM for short. It's from before your time – but let's not talk about that now,' Bontie said, wafting her hand dismissively. 'You've still got to try the cake I made you! I used apple cider vinegar in the mix this time.' There was that look again – half happy, half worried, like Bontie was both glad and horrified she'd made the cake.
Bagsy crinkled her nose. 'Ew. That sounds gross.'
'It does, but it's not,' Bontie insisted, pulling out a fluffy cake the size of Bagsy's head with glistening chocolate icing drizzling down the sides. 'It might be the best cake I've made in my life,' she added, shooting her a conspiratorial look, her concern now beyond detection, if it was even still there at all.
As Bagsy tried the cake, she was inclined to agree.
Bontie's birthday was the week after and her request had been for Bagsy to not annoy her for a day. Bagsy had done that, but also left a blueprint she'd made for "the best sister ever" in Bontie's room that described how awesome she thought she was, from her work at the Ministry, to her cool magic, to how awesome she looked, standing tall in the sharpest witch's robes money could buy. Bagsy even noted how kind she was, which she joked was a slight stretch of the truth.
Bontie had been a bit tearful that day, and Bagsy had worried she'd upset her, but Bontie had insisted it was quite the opposite.
Himble and Florentchia, who had been busy as usual, had barely spared a good morning for their eldest daughter on her birthday. Glumly, Bagsy had realised that she didn't even know when her mum and dad's birthdays were.
The lack of human interaction meant Bagsy was going a little stir crazy by the time her return to Hogwarts was a few weeks away, even if the letters from her friends had been helping. Her impatience forced her to finally decide she'd talk to her parents if it was the last thing she'd do.
'Mum?' Bagsy asked, knocking on the attic. When a "do not disturb" voice responded Bagsy grumbled angrily. She went and knocked on her father's door and much the same happened. Shaking the door on its hinges, she tried to force it open. Her frustration growing, Bagsy kept yanking the door for ten minutes, refusing to stop until someone acknowledged her.
Eventually, her father opened it with an annoyed face. 'What?' he asked coldly. Bagsy nearly fell over, she was so surprised, and she'd been expecting a door handle to grab onto, which had flown out of reach when Himble had opened the door.
'Can I have a friend over?' she asked.
Himble breathed heavily out through his nostrils. He was covered in smudges of dirt and oil. Usually, the answer was no, but Bagsy sensed she'd been enough of a nuisance to her father for him to give in. 'Yes. Fine. Don't bother asking next time just do it,' Himble hissed, slamming the door in anger. Her dad might have been clearly upset with her and Bagsy did have a heavy feeling in her stomach, but she realised that at least she'd actually seen him for once. All in all, not a bad outcome.
Bagsy rushed to her room and quickly wrote two letters, one for Mezrielda and one for Greenda. As she'd done every now and then throughout the summer, Bagsy borrowed Bontie's owl, Mistius, to send them. Bontie's owl was a short-eared owl that always looked at if someone had walked up behind it and yelled "Boo!" It was brown with darker patches, and a thin, white circle of feathers around its constantly surprised looking face.
She attached the letters to the owl's talons and watched it take off, excited at the prospect of seeing her friends.
Mezrielda's response came back with Bontie's owl, thankfully, whilst Greenda's lovely barn owl came a few hours later. Mezrielda informed Bagsy that she couldn't visit as she was too busy at home, which Bagsy thought was odd and wondered if what Mezrielda really meant was that she didn't want to come at all, before reading the letter again, thinking it didn't have the usual tone and flow of Mezrielda's writing. Bagsy was also frustrated that she'd have to wait longer before talking to Mezrielda about the blood eyed beast. It didn't feel right discussing such a thing over letters. Greenda, however, said she'd be over as soon as possible and was preparing to travel by Floo network already.
Bagsy sat eagerly in front of the fireplace in the house's large, open plan living room, drumming her fingers on her thighs. When a few minutes passed and no one appeared, Bagsy brought her work inside. She was scribbling on her latest blueprints when Greenda appeared in a burst of green flame, covered in soot and coughing, her bushy brown hair and dark skin dusted in floo powder.
'Greenda!' Bagsy shot excitedly to her feet, rushing over to her. She hovered just in front of Greenda, not knowing how to initiate a hug.
Greenda, dusting ash off her clothes, pulled Bagsy into a tight embrace before releasing her. 'Great to see you, Bagsy.' She smiled. Then Greenda's smile faltered as she looked around Bagsy's house, falling silent.
'Is something wrong?' Bagsy asked, worry edging her voice.
'Nothing, nothing...' Greenda trailed off, hiding her momentary surprise. It didn't sound like nothing to Bagsy, though, who was suddenly very self-conscious of how large and expensive her house looked. It had never really occurred to her before, but then again, she'd never had a friend over.
'Let's go into the garden,' Bagsy said quickly, seeing the broom Greenda had clutched at her side, and eager to get out of the empty and soulless looking home she lived in. The plan wasn't perfect, as Greenda seemed just as astounded by the size of the garden and the expanse of trees surrounding it.
'You could get a whole Quidditch pitch in here,' Greenda breathed, her eyes darting across the green lawn.
Bagsy gulped nervously. 'Suppose you could, yeah.'
'Right.' Greenda seemed to snap out of her awe-struck day dream, giving her head a shake. 'Let's practise.'
'W-what?' Bagsy stammered.
'Quidditch. Let's practise quidditch.' Greenda handed her broom to Bagsy. 'You can use mine, if you want, until the ones you're making are fit to fly.'
'Thanks,' Bagsy breathed, taking the broom.
'That's a bronze edition Gold Apple broom,' Greenda announced proudly. The light brown broom had bronze and gold bristles, handles and stirrups and "gold apple" written in black on the side. It was also signed by the team members of the Rocketing Unicorns, as Greenda proudly informed her. Bagsy carefully mounted the broom, realising how important it must be, and feeling honoured she was being allowed to use it. Greenda said, 'Go on then, show me what you've got.'
Nervously, Bagsy took off into the air. She tried to fly as quickly and impressively as she could, only for Greenda to tell her she was safe to fly faster if she wanted, unaware she was already going as fast as she felt comfortable with. Any more acceleration and Bagsy's hands would be shaking so violently from fear that the broom would wobble and throw her off.
By the time the sun was beginning to set, Greenda had taken Bagsy through all the drills she'd already done in her first year so much that Bagsy's muscles ached. It felt amazing, but terrifying.
'Not bad,' Greenda murmured as Bagsy dismounted and collapsed on the ground from happy exhaustion. 'With practise I think you'll make quite a good player.'
Bagsy couldn't help the smallest flare of frustration. She'd grown a little sick of practise. She'd spent so much time practising casting spells last year and it had done nothing for her but waste her time. She still couldn't cast a single spell.
Greenda picked up her broom and was walking inside when Bagsy, lying flat on her back, felt something small wriggling below her. She sat up and looked at the grass where her back had been and, with a disgusted gasp, shot to her feet.
A dozen worms were writhing where she'd been laying.
'Gross,' she said, before her mouth went dry at the sight of the worms making a shape. Tilting her head, Bagsy corrected herself, seeing that actually, they were spelling out a word, not a shape. She crouched down and squinted her eyes at them. 'Beware,' Bagsy read, furrowing her brow in confusion, her heart speeding up in her chest. 'Beware what?' she asked the worms. The worms, to her surprise, wriggled into a new word. 'Shadows,' Bagsy read out loud, her heart hammering in her head now. 'Beware shadows?' The worms rolled themselves into the shape of a tick. There was a caw from the trees and Bagsy turned to look out into the woods, wondering if the murder of corvids was returning. When she saw nothing, she turned to look back at the worms, only to find they had burrowed out of sight.
'Bagsy, are you coming?' Greenda asked from the open sliding doors that led inside.
Bagsy nodded numbly, getting to her feet and trudging inside. 'Those worms just told me to beware of shadows,' she said uneasily.
Greenda looked at Bagsy in interest, then laughed. 'They're just worms, Bagsy,' she assured her. 'They don't spell words. It was probably just a coincidence.'
Bagsy glanced over her shoulder where the worms had been. She didn't think so.