As Gideon nervously stepped out of one of the fireplace lifts on his first day at Middling Academy, thoughts about the Diagon Alley incident couldn't be further from his mind. Although, the repulsive image of Anthony's rainbow-streaked, popping vomit seemed to have permanently scarred his brain.

He had, however, retained his sense of resolve. Gideon had channelled his anger and frustration into work and spent the last week tirelessly reading through his set books. He was sure he had read enough of each to be prepared for the first few weeks of school, if not the entire first term. His head was bursting with new information, he just hoped he would be able to recall it all when the time came.

He arrived at the lobby desk with some other lift users in Middling robes, and the same smiling receptionist from his tour visit signalled for them to head through the left-hand hidden corridor. They passed through the barrier and followed several chalkboard signs pointing them to the end.

The group arrived at the park-like room just as another set of students entered the corridor at the opposite end. Inside, they gathered in an area where folding chairs were set up. Luckily, it was a nice day out, though, Gideon wondered whether the bewitched ceiling would actually rain on people.

There didn't seem to be assigned seats, so Gideon headed for one at the far end of an empty row. He couldn't help noticing there weren't altogether that many chairs, a hundred at most. He was also surprised as he observed the student body around him. They weren't just different heights, many of them appeared to be older than the average secondary school student, some clearly much older.

A confused Gideon watched as students continued to fill the seats. A surprising number were wearing dark sunglasses, hats, hoods or even face coverings. The person who sat in the chair next to him was wearing a balaclava. People continued to file in for a few more minutes before Mr Middling appeared and made his way to the front of the seating area.

'Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,' he said brightly, bouncing on his heels, 'and welcome to a new school year, here at Middling Academy! I hope you've all had a wonderful summer. I also hope that you have been keeping up with the news of late. While this institution remains a safe space for those of low magical prowess, the world outside these walls is changing.

'More than ever, our needs and our rights are being acknowledged by our political leaders. While many of you are understandably still apprehensive about your place here, I believe in my heart that there will soon come a day, when you will all be as proud of having studied here, as the faculty and I are of teaching and supporting you all.

'As always, I have a few reminders. Firstly, students are not allowed off the grounds during school hours, including during breaks. Secondly, detentions will be handed out to any student in breach of school policies, including those regarding uniforms and prohibited items. And finally, please be wary of the time when using the Green Room—for first-years, that's what we call this space—if you wander too far and the bell rings, you'll surely be late for your next lesson.

'Now, your Heads of Year are waiting at the back of the room to issue your timetables, so in a moment, you'll split into your year groups and queue single file. Remember to pay attention and work hard! Off you go!'

Suddenly Gideon was lost adrift in a sea of bodies, as students got up and made their way to the back of the room where seven teachers were waiting. He deduced that the woman to the far left was his Head of Year because lines quickly formed in front of the others. Once the crowd cleared enough, he made his way towards her along with a few other hesitant-looking students.

'First-years over here, please,' she called out.

Gideon joined the queue in front of the middle-aged woman. Although there were ten to fifteen students in all, he noticed that there were still several very tall or else older people in the first-year line. This didn't help how Gideon felt about his stature as he realised, he was the shortest among them.

'I'm Mrs Hastings,' the teacher announced. 'Take one of these, pass the rest along, and follow me, please!'

The first-years handed each other identical timetables and were led to a classroom. From the timetable, Gideon could see that the Head of Year taught most of the subjects. He was a little disappointed by this but figured that since they were only going to be studying theoretically, perhaps subject specialist knowledge wasn't required. Astronomy, Potions and Muggle Studies seemed to be the exceptions, where a teacher other than Mrs Hastings was listed.

'Take the chairs in the front, please,' she instructed as the class finished filing into the room, 'there's no point in me shouting to the back when we have plenty of room. So, as I said I'm Mrs Hastings, Head of Year and teacher for Middling first-years.'

The first day turned out to be an orientation day of sorts. Mrs Hastings gave them an overview of life at Middling, taking them through the daily schedule, their timetables, school policies and rules, accessing the school services and more. She then allowed the class to introduce themselves.

Gideon usually disliked being put on the spot in these kinds of situations, but he was curious to learn about his odd mix of classmates, the balaclava-wearing student from the Green Room being among them. However, when no one volunteered, Mrs Hastings simply moved on.

Gideon wondered if this option, the number of empty seats, and the students with face coverings were indicative of how Squib students really felt about attending the school. The rest of the morning was spent going over the first-semester syllabus for each of their subjects. Gideon was happy to learn that all his reading was going to serve him well in his classes.

As they approached one o'clock and prepared to head home, Gideon nervously wondered whether he should muster up the courage to introduce himself to his classmates, but when the bell rang, they all seemed to scatter too quickly for him to act. Gideon promised himself that he would try again tomorrow. He supposed that his classes and break times would be more conducive to interacting with others.

The lobby wall lined with lifts filtered the queuing students quickly. As they had arranged the night before, Gideon would visit his mother's place of employment instead of going straight home, so when it was his turn to enter an open lift he commanded, 'The British Library!'

The green flames swiftly transported him to a very large but ornately tiled old-fashioned fireplace in the magical library's reception area. Gideon immediately noticed the high ceiling, which was adorned with an impressive mural that put him in mind of the Sistine Chapel, though, naturally, this masterpiece was moving. In front of the fireplace, was a variety of mostly vacant, comfy-looking leather couches and armchairs, and further beyond was a large area with many empty tables and chairs.

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To Gideon's right, were the ends of just seven tall bookshelves, but unless his eyes were deceiving him, they seemed to continue forever into the distance. To his left, was a large counter, where his mother was standing, attempting to help a man in purple robes who insisted his book refused to open for him.

'You just have to ask politely. Here, let me show you,' Mrs Maxwell informed the grumpy-faced man while taking the big leather-bound book from him. 'We would very much like to read your contents if you wouldn't mind showing us?' The book then fell open in her arms.

The man snatched the book away without a word of thanks as Gideon approached the counter. Just as his mother spotted him, the unmistakable sound of a book slamming shut loudly startled the pair of them. Mrs Maxwell rolled her eyes, and then told Gideon, 'I'll just be a moment, honey!'

She retrieved her coat from a room behind the desk and a short older lady followed her out.

'Would this handsome young man be your son, Sarah?' she asked patronisingly with a simpering grin. 'And how old are you, my dear?'

The woman had mistaken Gideon's height for an indicator of his age, as people often did. Irked by this, he replied with a straight face, 'Twenty-one.'

The lady looked taken aback for a moment before giggling and commenting, 'Oh, Sarah, I see you've got a clever little tyke on your hands!'

'Yes, well, see you tomorrow, Pam,' Mrs Maxwell said, shaking her head as she led Gideon back to the fireplace. 'So, now that you've seen the place, do you still want to go ahead with your idea?'

'Yeah, it should be fine,' Gideon answered, 'it looks like there's plenty of space for reading, I can do my homework at the desks over there and there's certainly no shortage of books!'

'That's right, just like the Muggle section, we have a copy of every book published in Britain, although, we stick to the ones produced by the magical community, of course.'

'And the real British Library, the Muggle section, they don't know about this place, even though it takes up so much space?'

'Well, we're underground, and the Muggles don't know how to access us. I'll be doing afternoon shifts from now on, then. You'll come here straight from school at three PM, let me know you've arrived, get a couple of hours studying in, and we'll go home together at five, yes?'

'That's the plan!'

'Good boy! Now, let's go home and you can tell me how your morning went.'

***

Despite Anthony's absence, owing to his recent return to Hogwarts, dinner was a lively occasion that evening. Mr Maxwell had arrived home late again and was eager to vent about the latest developments at the Ministry.

'Three more members of the Wizengamot resigned today,' he announced between mouthfuls of cottage pie. 'That's twelve now in total! Even so, the word is Granger's not budging.'

'Disgraceful,' Annabeth Maxwell remarked with disdain.

'Meanwhile, she's ordered Potter to establish an "Anti-Dementor Task Force",' he continued, 'which, of course, means it will actually be me doing the heavy lifting. It won't make a bit of difference. It's just for appearances. My Aurors are already tackling the Dementors the best they can, there's just too many of them now.'

'Vile creatures,' Annabeth added.

'Sometimes I wonder if Shacklebolt was right to banish them from Azkaban.'

'You don't really believe that, do you?' his wife asked with concern in her voice.

'Perhaps not, but at least they were under control back then. Now we're seeing attacks almost daily. The Scottish Islands are going to become uninhabitable if things carry on as they are. I've been warning of this for months, of course.'

'So why is the Minister bothering with this task force business instead of recruiting more Aurors?' Gideon's grandmother enquired.

'Well,' Mr Maxwell started, shaking his head, 'Caroline got wind of it somehow.'

'Oh, for heaven's sake! So, the task force is just a smokescreen for the Daily Prophet? Honestly, that daughter of mine needs to learn some family loyalty!'

'Come now, Annabeth,' said Mrs Maxwell. 'Caroline's just doing her job, and surely the public has a right to know about Dementor attacks?'

'Not if it puts her own brother's reputation at stake!' she replied. 'Marcus has quite enough to deal with without one of Caroline's hatchet pieces to worry about.'

Jennifer interjected at this point, 'I think Aunt Caroline's done some great work, Gran! Remember her exposé on potion doping in the National Quidditch League?'

'Yes, and if I recall correctly, half the players she named ended up grounded for life and we ended up with her hate mail! Your Aunt's particular brand of journalism tends to have that sort of effect, my dear. The last thing we need is an "exposé" about your father, thank you very much!'

***

Gideon had trouble sleeping that night. He was tired but restless. Thoughts of his first day plagued his mind, and after waking up for the third time to find barely any time had elapsed, he decided to go get a sleep-aid from the kitchen medicine cupboard. He lit the way with his trusty Glowglobe and headed downstairs in his pyjamas.

As he reached the bottom of the marble staircase, Gideon was startled by voices coming from the direction of his father's study. He had noted the time on his way, and since it was well after midnight, he was intrigued by who might still be awake at this hour, and why. He turned off the Glowglobe with three sharp taps and silently crept across the cold floor towards the study on the balls of his feet.

'Please, Mother, I need to get some sleep, and I don't need this right now on top of everything going on at work,' Gideon heard his father say in an exasperated manner.

'I saw it with my own eyes, Marcus, and so did you,' his grandmother said, 'and it wasn't the first time! It's happened on three separate occasions now that I can think of, maybe more.'

'I'm sorry, but I find that a little hard to believe,' he replied. 'Anyway, how could you have noticed three times, you know how Sarah feels about us using magic in front of him, and I agree, it's hardly fair.'

Gideon, suddenly wishing he had remembered his dressing gown, started to shiver as he wondered who they were talking about and continued to listen closely to their discussion.

'That's beside the point. Something is wrong, Marcus!'

'Suppose for a moment that you are right, what would you have me do, Mother?'

'I don't know, get that Ministry chap over here to check?'

'Grimsby has been here, and according to him everything is fine.'

'Oh pish, how would he know?'

Mr Grimsby again? Gideon felt his heart rate increase. He distinctly heard his father sigh loudly before replying, 'You suggested him! As it happens, he's the only one who would know.'

'Then, we need a second opinion!' Annabeth Maxwell pressed.

'It's not like we can stroll into St Mungo's and ask a Healer. Nobody is supposed to know, and we can't risk them finding out!'

Whether it was from the cold or the direction their conversation was taking, Gideon's body began to shake.

'There must be someone we can turn to other than the dandy lawyer! What about the people who performedThe Weaving?'

'Those details were sealed, and from what I could gather back then, they wouldn't be able to help anyway. There was barely enough information on the procedure to do it correctly in the first place. I'm sure everything is fine, but I'll keep an eye out. For now, the only thing we can do is monitor Gideon ourselves.'

Just then, the appearance of a bright light made Gideon jump like a cat from a cucumber. His shaking had become pronounced enough to trigger the activation of the Glowglobe in his hand. He frantically shoved it under his pyjama top and quietly fled in panic, hoping the light had not given him away. He didn't stop until he was safely behind his bedroom door, slightly out of breath and very confused.