The twins sure were jealous when they heard about the great time we all had at the zoo once Ron and Ginny got home. But Ron said that his mum told them if they hadn't misbehaved and teased their brother, they'd have gone too, so it was their own fault and no one else's. And Dad had promised they could come next time we went, so they finally stopped grousing.

The next week, we went back to the zoo with Dad, Grandpa, Ron, Ginny, and the twins. This time there was no accidental magic and no animals got loose, although the twins were playing pranks on everyone. They had a whole bunch of little spells they invented to shock and annoy people.

There was the Sneezing Fit spell, which made you sneeze and sneeze for ten minutes until lots of boogeys came out of your nose. Then there was the Itch Charm, which made a person itch like crazy, the Insect Bite Charm-made you feel like mosquitos were biting you all over, the Belch Charm-made you burp so loud they could hear it in America (that one was great to put on the girls and women, since they were so embarrassed when they burped. Girls are weird.) But my favorite was the Pass Gas Charm-it made you fart so bad people ran away from you and stayed away from you, for hours. You could clear out a restaurant with that one, which is exactly what Fred and George did after we were finished eating.

Dad was not amused. When we got back home, he made the twins stand in the corner for twenty-five minutes, and then he questioned them about what they'd done. "I want you to tell me exactly what spell you cast back there, boys. You know perfectly well you're not to use magic outside of school."

"Yes sir," they chorused, looking down at their feet.

Dad was standing over them, wearing his disappointed face, his hands on his hips.

"It was just a joke, Healer Sev," said George. (Least I think it was George). "We didn't-"

"-mean to hurt anybody. The spell's harmless, really. It wears off in a few minutes," said Fred.

"It's just for laughs," added George, looking at my dad with puppy dog eyes.

I could've told him that wouldn't work. It never does when he's set on punishing you for something.

"But I didn't see anyone laughing except you two and Harry, did you?" Dad demanded sternly. "Everyone else was running out the door to throw up." The Pass Gas spell and food do not mix, and Dad had ended up treating at least twenty people for something he called "convulsive vomiting", when you just throw up and can't stop. Ugh! Grandpa had taken the rest of us away once we were outside, we hadn't been affected by the twins spell since they'd cast a charm over the table that reversed the fart spell.

Good thing Dad had access to the hospital apothecary, so he could summon enough Anti-Nausea Drafts for everyone. He then made the twins help him hand them out. Not everybody got sick, most were okay once they'd gotten outside and could breathe normal air. But some people can't take that kind of thing and those were the ones Dad had to treat.

"We're really sorry, Healer Snape," said Fred, he only used Dad's last name when he was in trouble, just like I only used sir for the same reason. "We'll be more careful next time."

"Next time? Young man, there won't be a next time, am I understood?" He fixed the twins with one of his heavy duty scowls, the kind that made you shiver all the way down to your toes and want to hide under the sofa.

The two boys were shaking all right, even though Dad's never done anything much to them save scold them once in awhile. But a true Snape glare was SCARY. I was shaking a little just seeing it, and it wasn't being used on me.

"Yes sir!" they whispered.

"Now, I want both of you to go over to the table and write down the exact parameters of that spell, incantation, wand movements, everything. And the counter-charm as well. Then I'll take a copy for myself and the other will go to your mother."

Fred went pale. "No, no, please, sir! Don't tell Mum!"

George echoed him. "Please, Healer Snape! We just got off punishment last week, don't tell her, she'll go nuts." He shot my father his most pleading glance. "You could punish us instead, sir."

Fred was nodding. "Yes, we don't care. You could even spank us, sir, and we won't tell anyone. Then all debts would be settled."

But Dad was shaking his head. "Sorry, boys, but that won't fly with me. I made an agreement with your mother long ago, when I first arranged for her to watch Harry and vice versa, that if any of her children misbehaved, she was to be informed of it the same day. She agreed to do the same for me. She's your mother, it is her place to issue punishments, not mine, save for lectures and the occasional time-out. Besides, I don't raise a hand to any child who isn't mine, and even with Harry I don't do it that often."

"We know that, sir!" pleaded George. "That's why we want you to punish us instead."

Dad looked startled at that, for this was the first time any kid had ever begged for him to punish them.

Ginny came in the room then, we were in the kitchen, and shook a finger at her brothers. "Ooo Merlin, are you ever gonna get it! You promised Mum you'd behave for Healer Sev and not give him one bit of trouble and now look! This time she's gonna ground you for a month and throw all your joke products in the trash. Tsk! Tsk!"

"Get lost, shrimp!" ordered one twin.

"Beat it, rugrat! Before we make all your dolls headless and speak in tongues," growled the other.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at them. "You do and I'll tell!"

"Ginevra Margaret Weasley, out!" Dad ordered, and pointed to the doorway. "I'll do the lecturing around here if you don't mind."

Ginny's lip trembled, but she turned and walked out without saying anything else. You don't mess with Dad when he's in that mood.

He turned back to the twins. "Was what she said accurate?"

Both of them nodded slowly.

"Well, I can't do much to change Molly's mind regarding punishments, since you are her children, and you do deserve to be in trouble, gentlemen. However, I will tell her I lectured you sufficiently and made sure you understood the seriousness of casting spells on unsuspecting people in public that may cause unexpected harm to them. That may persuade her to be more lenient."

"Healer Snape, do you know our Mum?" groaned Fred.

"She always does what she says," George sighed. "We're so dead. All our collection, gone."

"We'll have to start over from scratch." Fred said mournfully. "Damn it!"

Dad pointed to the table, where there was fresh parchment and quills. "Start writing, boys. You ought to have the spell parameters done in an hour. Your mother will be home an hour after that."

The twins walked over to the table and began writing. Both of them looked like someone had died. I think it really bothered them that their mum was going to throw all their joke stuff away, it really meant a lot to them. They certainly seemed more concerned over it than the grounding. I felt sorry for them, for Mrs. Weasley sounded an awful lot like Grandpa, strict as iron.

Grandpa was in the den, paging through a catalog while Dad was scolding the twins, he just shook his head as I went by. "Little buggers. Glad I don't have the raising of them. Their poor mother has her hands full."

I went into my room to play with Ron and Ginny till it was time for them to go. Ron just shook his head. "They never learn. After the last time, when they transfigured Mr. Bear into a spider, they promised on their wizard's honor they'd behave and not prank anyone for a month. And it's only been a week and they've broken their promise all to pieces. Stupid! Mum's gonna give it to them good, wait and see."

"Your mum punish you all the time, or does your dad too?" I asked.

"No, Dad does sometimes, when he's at home," Ginny said. "But Mum's home more, so she lays down the law more."

"And she's tougher than Dad," added her brother. "Sometimes you can get Dad to give you a break, but not Mum. What she says, she does. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"Like my dad and grandpa," I replied. "But once they punish you, it's over and they don't keep reminding you about it and they forgive you and hug you."

Both Weasleys nodded. "So do our Mum and Dad."

Huh. They must've read the same parenting book as my dad, I thought. Then I took out my wooden animals Grandpa made for my birthday and we began to play.

When I saw Ron three days later, in Diagon Alley, I was with Dad getting some new potion ingredients for his lab, he told me Mrs. Weasley had done exactly as she had said she would, same as always. "They bawled like babies when she chucked everything," he reported quietly. "But I don't think even that will stop them for long, Harry. I swear, they were planning something else before she closed the trashcan. They're born mischief-makers. Dad calls them Loki's Children, after the Norse god of mischief."

Merlin, was that ever the truth!

But I guess we all need a little mischief in our life, as long as it's the harmless kind.

The rest of the summer flew by, and before I knew it, it was the week before the new school term. That meant new school supplies, clothes, and the annual school checkup.

I didn't mind going shopping all that much for new notebooks, pencils, art supplies, folders, and all that stuff. Even the clothes weren't too bad, I got to pick a lot of my own clothes, Muggle ones, of course, since I was still going to a Muggle school. And would be until I was eleven and transferred to Hogwarts, I think is the correct term. I knew that most other kids would be going on to a boarding school, like Eton or Harrow. I guess Hogwarts was like that, only for wizards and much cooler, of course.

At the beginning of the year, I get all new clothes, jacket, trainers, underclothes, everything, since Dad thinks it's good to start the year off fresh. We take what I've outgrown or don't want any more to a secondhand store on Brown and 10th St, they sell it at reduced prices for the people who can't afford new clothes. Impoverished, is the word Dad uses, though everybody else just calls them poor. Dad says his word sounds better. I guess it does.

Then it's time for the thing most kids dread-their annual visit to the doctor before school starts. For kids my age up until eleven, it means getting yearly vaccinations, after eleven you don't need them anymore because your body's built up something called an immunity. Dad says that means your body is resistant to disease and protected against certain very bad ones, like dragon pox and pyromantic flu. Dad explained that a long time ago there were no such things as vaccinations to prevent them, and people suffered through them and either lived or died, and those that lived developed an immunity to the disease.

Our way is much better, at least I know I won't die from those diseases thanks to Dad's vaccinations. Too bad they couldn't make another way for us to be vaccinated, like a potion. But Dad told me once when I asked why the vaccine had to be given with needles that it needs to be injected into a person's bloodstream, and not go through your stomach and get digested, otherwise it's useless. And the spells for putting something into a person's bloodstream with magic are very complex and one wrong gesture or word could kill a patient, so the shots are much safer and easier for a Healer to give.

Sure they sting, but it's not that bad, and it's over in two seconds and Dad gives you a sweet after and puts special salve on the spot so it quits hurting almost instantly. And Dad knows how to give needles so you don't really feel them, not like some other Healers. Once he was sick and they had somebody else filling in for him when it came time for my check-up, and Uncle Matt was away visiting his dad in America, and I let that Healer give me the shots. They hurt and I cried, I never cry when I get needles, but I did then ‘cause the stupid Healer didn't know how to do it right. That was the last time I ever got shots from anybody ‘cept Dad. He really is the best Healer in St. Mungos.

Anyhow, Dad brought me down to his office on an off day, so he didn't have to fit me in between patients, and did the check-up then. He did the usual diagnostics, made me drink some weird metabolism booster potion, it tasted like grape juice, made me read an eye chart, had me pee in a cup and sent it down to the lab for some routine tests, and then it was time for the shots.

I watched as he filled the needles with the solutions in the sealed glass vials and set each one on a fresh white cloth spelled with a disinfecting charm. He was wearing thin plastic gloves as always, to keep germs away. He placed three needles upon the cloth.

"Three, Dad?" I asked. "Last time it was only two."

"Yes, but this year we've developed a new vaccine for vaccilius strep, Harry. Remember last year, when all the kids were coming down with sore throats and fevers and a rash and vomiting?"

"Uh huh. I got sick too, a little."

"Yes, but not enough to build up a true immunity. Well, this vaccine will stop that disease, since some of the littler kids who got it died from it."

"Did you invent it?"

"No, but a colleague of mine did," he smiled. "The good thing about this vaccine is you only need a booster every other year. All right, son. You know the drill."

He motioned for me to take down my pants and underwear. I obeyed, baring my bottom. He gave the shots there because the muscle there was less sensitive than the ones in your arm or thigh when you were a kid. Then I leaned over the exam table and squinched my eyes shut.

I don't know why I do that when I get needles, it's not like I'm going to see anything except the table anyway.

Dad swabbed me with an alcohol wipe, disinfecting my backside or something, then he gave me the first needle.

I felt a small sting and then it was over. "Ouch," I said, though it didn't sting much at all.

"Good job, Harry. Now we're going to do another. Stay still."

I did, and he swabbed the other side and gave me the second shot. This one stung a bit more and I yelped. "Yee-ow! That one really stings, Dad."

"Yes, I know." He rubbed salve on the spot and the sting vanished.

"Very good, son. Now for the last one."

"Is it the new one, Dad?" I asked, a bit uneasily.

"Yes. Don't move, Harry."

I felt the swab again and closed my eyes.

"It'll only sting for a second or so," Dad warned before he stuck in the needle.

This shot was the worst, almost as bad as the one that other dumb Healer gave me. "Owww!" I yelled. "That really hurt!"

"Sorry, but it has to be done. It's more concentrated than the other two, that's why you feel it more," said Dad, and he rubbed the salve on.

"It felt like I'd sat on a big bee," I whined, though my bottom wasn't hurting any more.

"You'll be fine, son. It's over and you won't need that vaccine for two years." He helped me fix my clothes then he gave me a great big hug. "You were very brave, scamp. You were the first one to get this new injection, and probably the best behaved too. I'm going to have freeze over half of the kids who come into the office for their annual, I just know it."

"Especially Stevie Perkins."

"That's a given." Dad summoned the dish of sweets he always kept on his desk and I got to pick three out of it, since I'd had three shots and didn't scream, cry, or fight with Dad like most kids did when faced with needles. That last one had really hurt! I wondered how Hermione would take it? She didn't seem like the type who bawled or fainted over needles like some kids.

Afterwards we went and had lunch at a little café near the office called Mick's, they had the best grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches-yum! I was now all prepared for school on September 2nd.

Dad said we needed to get some more milk, bread, and eggs, along with some other stuff, so we went to the supermarket. I liked going there because sometimes Dad would let me pick out my own snacks and drinks and we could shop for dinner together. Dad had a bank account with both wizard and Muggle money, so we could shop just as easily in one place as another.

We went down the aisle of frozen foods, and I had stopped to look at all the different flavors of ice cream, as usual, while Dad was picking out nutritious things, like vegetables, and some pasta dinners, and chicken strips. I was having a hard time deciding between some chocolate cones with nuts sprinkled on them or a carton of ice cream called Chocolate Turtle Commotion, which was chocolate ice cream with caramel swirled in it, walnuts, and peanut butter chips. It sounded wonderful, but I had to convince Dad that I needed it, since we already had some ice cream left over from last time we'd gone to the store.

There was a lady standing a few cases down near my dad looking at the ready meals, with dark curly hair and a soft green sweater and jeans.

I was standing there with my hands in my pockets, because it was cold in there, and my nose pressed up against the glass door, trying to think up a convincing argument, when I heard a girl's voice shout, "Mom! Hey, Mom, I found where they keep the peanut butter and the crackers! It's in Aisle 7!" The way she spoke sounded different from the way other kids did, I later learned that she had an American accent, but right then I didn't know why she sounded like that.

She came round the corner of the aisle, pushing the shopping trolley, going full speed and then-CRASH!

She banged right into our trolley, which was next to Dad.

"Oops! Sorry, mister!"

Her mum, who was the lady looking at the ready meals, whirled around at the noise and gasped. Then she said sternly, "Alexis Marie Montague! How many times do I have to tell you to stop racing around with the cart like that? This isn't a roller blade derby!" She then turned to my father, and I could see she was quite embarrassed, her face was scarlet. "I'm terribly sorry, I've told my daughter a thousand times to quit doing that. One day she's going to knock someone down, God help me."

The little girl, who looked to be about my age, with short curly brown hair like her mother, and bright brown eyes, hung her head and said softly, "I didn't mean to, Mom. I said I was sorry." She was wearing a light blue shirt and jeans and trainers with purple piping on the sides.

Dad shook his head, one eyebrow lifted in what I knew was exasperated amusement. "That's quite all right, Mrs. Montague. My son does the same thing sometimes. They're all alike."

That was when I decided to go up to them. "Dad? Can I get some ice cream?"

"One moment, Harry, I'm talking," he said, then he held out a hand to the dark-haired woman. "I'm Severus Snape, pleased to meet you. And this is my son, Harry. You aren't from around here, are you?"

"Alaina Montague. And this speed demon over here is Lexy. We just moved here from Pennsylvania. Last week and I, uh, am still trying to get used to the way you do things over here." She shook Dad's hand and smiled. "Lexy, can you say hello to Mr. Snape?"

"Hi." She looked him up and down and then said, "Boy, you sure are tall. You're even bigger than my dad."

Dad smiled down at her. "I'll take that as a compliment, I think." He nudged me gently. "Harry, your turn."

I immediately held out a hand to Alaina Montague. "How do you do, Mrs. Montague?"

"Very well, thank you, Harry." She had a very nice smile, it was sincere, not the fake kind most grownups gave kids when they met them. "You look to be about the same age as Lexy."

"I'm seven."

"So'm I," said Lexy. "I was seven two weeks ago. I'm going into second grade. At Mabry Primary."

"Hey, that's where I go to school," I said, surprised. "Then you'll be in my class."

She nodded. "Yours and Hermione's, I think."

"You know Hermione?" I asked, surprised.

"Uh huh. She's my neighbor. She lives two houses down from me on Coltsfoot Lane." Lexy said. "I met her the first day we moved in. Her mom brought a cake over to say hello."

I wondered why Hermione hadn't told me yet about her new friend, then guessed she'd been busy lately, like I'd been, getting ready for school. I hadn't seen much of her recently, her parents had been too busy to bring her by to play, and Dad had been too tired most nights this past week to go and Apparate her to our house.

"Her mum's a dentist, you know. I went to their office once to get my teeth checked."

"I haven't yet, but Mom'll take me once we get settled, I guess," said Lexy. "I've got a loose tooth right here," she wiggled one of her bottom front teeth.

"When it comes out, are you gonna put it under your pillow for the Tooth Fairy?" I asked, wishing I had a loose tooth to put under my pillow. But so far, none of my teeth were loose.

"Yeah, of course! One time I got a dollar and fifty cents!" she reported.

"Wow!" I said, though I had no idea how much money that was. Still, it sounded like a lot. "I don't have a tooth loose yet, but maybe I will soon." I hoped. I wondered what kind of money the Tooth Fairy would leave me, wizard or Muggle?

"You will if you keep running around and not watching where you're going," Dad put in. "Yesterday, he walked right into the back door because he was too busy talking and not paying attention. He was lucky he didn't knock out all his front teeth."

Alaina gave Dad a look like she knew exactly where he was coming from. "Your Harry sounds a lot like my Lexy. One time, I found her hanging upside down from a tree in my backyard, and she was hollering Look at me, Mom, I'm a trapeze artist, like in the circus. I nearly died."

Dad shook his head. "That sounds like something mine would do, all right. I found him on my roof once, he'd climbed up the trellis to get our . . . cat."

Alaina's eyes widened. "The roof! Oh, good Lord!"

"Were you scared up there?" Lexy wanted to know.

I shook my head. "Nope. Were you scared in the tree?"

"Not really. It was fun, except for the part where Mom yelled at me and sent me to bed without supper for scaring the daylights out of her."

"I thought it was cool being up so high, you could see everything. Until Dad started saying me and Inky had better get our backsides down before we broke our necks."

"Did you get in trouble?"

"Yeah. Got grounded for two days." I wondered what Lexy would say if she knew that Inky wasn't a cat, but a panther. Of course, since she was a Muggle, I couldn't tell her about bringing Inky to life, but I wished I could, I'd of loved to see the expression on her face.

"That would've given me gray hairs," Alaina was saying to Dad.

"I'm surprised my hair isn't snow white by now with some of the pranks this rascal has pulled." Dad reached out a hand to ruffle my hair, and I ducked, embarrassed. Normally, I didn't care if he mussed my hair, but I didn't want him to do it in front of a girl.

"I'm not that bad, Dad!" I protested. "The Weasley twins are worse."

"You're a close second, scamp." Dad answered. "A friend of mine has twin boys a few years older than these two who are mischief incarnate."

Alaina snickered. "Guess there's one in every family." She turned and placed the two ready meals she'd been holding in her cart.

That reminded me of the ice cream I wanted, and I tapped Dad on the arm to get his attention. "Dad? Can we buy this new ice cream? It sounds really good."

Dad sighed. "Harry, we still have a half a carton of perfectly good vanilla and chocolate swirl at home."

"I know, but this one sounds so much better!" I pleaded. "Come and see!" I tugged on his arm, knowing if he read the ingredients he'd want to taste it too, since he likes ice cream and sweets as much as I do. Only he doesn't like to admit it all that much.

"Harry, you're being a pest."

"Just take a look, Dad. Pl-e-e-ase?"

"All right. But if I say no, that's it. No whining, mister." He turned to Alaina and said, "Please excuse me, my son has the patience of a gnat."

She laughed. "So does every child his age. Back when I taught kindergarten, half my students couldn't sit still for longer than ten minutes. They were like jack-in-the-boxes, up and down. The only time they were still for longer than that was when they were napping or I was doing storytime."

"You were a teacher?"

"For five years at Dingman Delaware Elementary School in Milford, Pennsylvania. Then we moved to New York City and I was going to get a new job teaching there."

"But then they got divorced," Lexy announced. Alaina colored a deep red. "My dad's a real jerk off."

"Lexy! They do not need to know that!"

"Why? It's true."

Dad turned to me and said, "Where's that ice cream you wanted to show me?" I think he was trying to give Mrs. Montague time to get over being embarrassed, though I didn't understand what was so embarrassing about getting divorced. Six kids in my class were divorced, and only saw their mum or dad on the weekend.

I took him down two cases to where the ice cream was and pointed to the Chocolate Turtle Commotion. "That one, Dad. Doesn't it look delicious?"

He opened the door and took the carton out to examine.

I held my breath and waited impatiently, shifting from foot to foot, unable to keep still.

I glanced over at where the Montagues were, and saw Alaina standing up on her tiptoes, she wasn't very tall at all, trying to reach a box of something on the top shelf of the freezer. "Drat! I wish I was tall like Mr. Snape," she sighed loudly. "Why do they always put the food you need up so high that all of us short people can't get it?"

"I'll get it, Mom!" cried Lexy.

"Honey, you can't, you're even smaller than I am," began her mother.

"Yes, I can!"

And with that Lexy floated up into the air and grabbed the box of whatever it was and then floated back down, neat as you please. "See, Mom? Told you I could get it."

"Lexy! How could you do that? What if someone saw?"

Of course, someone had seen. Me. Then I looked up and saw that Dad was also staring down the aisle at the young witch and her mother. He had seen Lexy fly also.

"Dad, she's a witch like Hermione," I whispered.

"Yes, son." He walked back down towards them, the carton of ice cream in hand. He placed it in the trolley and then looked calmly at Alaina and Lexy. "So, you have a daughter who can fly. Most unusual."

Alaina went pale. "Fly? Oh no, don't be ridiculous! It only looked like she was flying, but everyone knows girls can't fly," she was twisting her hands nervously in her hair, around and around.

"Unless they have magic. Mrs. Montague, I know what I saw." Dad began, speaking in a tone so soft only we could hear it.

"Call me Alaina, please."

"Alaina, then. I know your daughter can fly and it doesn't surprise me because my son and I also have magic. We're wizards."

Alaina just stared at us like we had lost our marbles, as Grandpa likes to say. "Uh, tell me you didn't just say that, Severus. Are you sure you haven't been drinking?"

"Yes, I never drink. And though you may think I'm crazy, I assure you that I'm as sane as you are." He looked at the two thoughtfully. "It was pure chance that your daughter ran into my shopping cart rather than someone else's. Or perhaps not. One of my colleagues is always saying that there are no coincidences, and what is meant to be, will be. I'm beginning to think he might be right. What your daughter just did is called accidental magic, because it was uncontrolled, and it is quite common among young witches her age. Or sorceresses, if you prefer."

"It is?" Alaina was staring at the package of broccoli in her hand as if expecting it to start singing and dancing. She rubbed her eyes and said quietly. "I think I'm dreaming and I'd better wake up now. Because if not this has to be the strangest conversation I've ever had with someone in the middle of the frozen food aisle. I mean, usually you're discussing the price of broccoli versus corn or the latest brand of Stouffers, if you've even got that here, not the fact that your seven-year-old just flew through the air by . . . accidental magic?"

"I assure you, Alaina, you're not dreaming." Dad placed a hand lightly on her arm. "I realize this conversation is very odd considering you've probably been told magic doesn't exist, except in books and fairy tales and the movies. But you've seen for yourself that magic does exist, and no, you're not going crazy either. Nor am I."

"Glad to hear it, though my mother wouldn't agree with you," she laughed shakily. "When I was a kid, I used to drive her crazy, saying I saw fairies in the garden and unicorns in the woods and monsters under the bed. She used to tell me it was just my imagination, but I always wished I had a fairy godmother or something. And now my daughter has magic." She shook her head slightly, her eyes wide with wonder. "How is this possible?"

Dad coughed, then said, "That's too long to explain now, Alaina, my ice cream will be melted by the time I've finished, and your broccoli defrosted. But here's my number," and he fished a paper out of his pocket and a pencil and wrote our number down on it and gave it to her. "Call me tonight if you wish to learn more about our world, Alaina. Lexy is very strong in magic, most wizards never master flying that way. I'll do my best to explain and answer all of your questions then."

"Okay, Severus." She took the paper and stuffed it in her purse. "Thanks. Come on, Lexy. We still need to pick up a few more things." Then she led her daughter away, looking a bit confused.

"Think she'll call, Dad?"

"She will if she wants to learn about her daughter's magic," Dad answered, and for some reason he had a faint smile on his face. "I'm beginning to think that maybe your Uncle Al was right and there really are no coincidences."

I shrugged. I didn't know about coincidences, but I sure was glad I had another witch in my class to be friends with. Then the other kids wouldn't think Hermione and I were sweet on each other-blech! I followed Dad to the dairy section and we picked up some more shredded cheese, milk, and butter. Dad sure was going to have an interesting conversation later on tonight.