I was late for the exam, of course. After I had delivered Xavier to Cressida, made Dad understand that he had an intruder in his house but that I could not spare the time to give evidence to the Aurors, and negotiated with Madam Honeysmooch to use her Floo again, I still had to run all the way from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. My heart was hammering against my ribs and I was in pain from trying to breathe evenly as I read the notice on the door to the Great Hall:

I turned the doorknob as slowly as I could, trying to force away the image of Albert Runcorn destroying Dad’s stairs, and saw my seventy-eight classmates geometrically arranged in rows, all of them identically frowning at the exam booklets on their desks.

Professor Flitwick flew down the hall to meet me. “Come in, Miss Perks!” he whispered. “Your mother owled to explain that you might be delayed. I’m so glad that you’ve made it anyway! Sit down here…” He indicated the lone empty desk, directly behind Blaise Zabini, with the only unopened exam scroll. “And take this quill. I’m sorry the exam board won’t let you make up the time you’ve missed, but do your best anyway. Good luck!”

Still gasping to draw breath, I opened the scroll and saw that the first question was about Wingardium Leviosa. I could pass this exam! I forced myself to stop worrying about what might happen to Cecilia and began to write.

I didn’t quite finish the paper, but I felt sure that I had at least managed an Acceptable, which was more than I had dared to hope yesterday! However, my stomach was churning and I didn’t want any lunch. I fled up two flights of stairs and down a corridor, hardly knowing where I wanted to go until I flung open the archaic door to the school chapel. I knew I would not be disturbed in here; as chapel had been optional since 1692, very few students still chose to enter. Alone on the altar steps, surrounded by the Gothic arches and Victorian stained-glass windows, I sobbed helplessly without understanding what the problem was.

That man!

Albert Runcorn hated Muggle-borns. He would slaughter someone like Terry as soon as look at him. He even despised commonplace half-bloods like me. He assumed the Ministry was all-powerful and that he, the Ministry official, could treat other people in any way he liked.

Had Albert divorced Cressida because of her infidelity – or because of her Squib grandfather? Had Cressida been unfaithful to Albert because she loved Dad – or had she simply fallen into the arms of the nearest man after Albert had rejected her? Cressida was snobbish and self-centred, but she only abused people when there was a definite benefit to herself. I couldn’t imagine her committing an ideological murder: she would be too busy adjusting her make-up.

But I could imagine Albert Runcorn committing murder.

Mr Runcorn did not seem to know that You-Know-Who was back. But how long would that last? Everyone at Hogwarts now assumed that Harry Potter’s story was true. It was only a matter of time before the Ministry of Magic faced reality. What would Mr Runcorn do once he knew that a powerful Dark wizard was supporting his hatred?

In the last war, Muggles had been slaughtered for fun. People like Raymond, Jeremy, Christopher, Grandma Flourish and Grandpa Perks would all be helpless. Muggle-borns like Sophie would be special targets – far more hated than mere Muggles – and a schoolgirl would have no hope against an institution of fully-qualified wizards. I myself would be powerless if a man like Runcorn turned against me. If he decided that I was in his way, I would probably vanish.

No one was safe.

Then, all unbidden, an image of Terry floated into my mind. Terry was a Muggle-born and Terry was independent enough to annoy a pitiless bureaucracy. Yet Terry was far safer than Sophie or me.

Terry had joined Harry Potter’s Defence club. Harry had formed the club because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back; and whatever might help an ordinary wizard against a powerfully evil one, Harry Potter was as likely as anyone to know about it. Terry was as well-prepared as any of us to face evil magic.

If I had learned some Defence, I too might know what to do about Albert Runcorn – and worse.

I dried my tears and drew a deep breath, forcing myself to be calm because I knew I had something to say to God. I didn’t understand why I was still trembling. It wasn’t fear – at least, not fear of Dark magic.

“I’ve always tried to be a good person,” I told God. I felt silly; the silent words were running away from me until I wondered if God had really heard. I tried again, this time in the lowest whisper. “I think You know that. My family has a few problems, but I’ve always tried to hold us together. I’ve helped Mum, looked after my sisters, and put up with any amount of rubbish to try to make this stepfamily thing work.”

Despite the roses and candles on the altar, God seemed a very long way off. I ploughed on. “But I realise I’ve made a mistake, God. I’ve been behaving as if family is the only thing that matters. I haven’t thought about the wider community at all.”

Suddenly I lost control of the dialogue. Overwhelming images of my family life were flooding out my mind: showing off my cooking; arranging a place to put every item in the house; organising my sisters to follow my tidy-up plan; nursing Xavier; chasing lawyers for Christopher; tidying away Ella-Jane’s mischief to protect her from Cressida; calculating Mum’s budget… Sally-Anne needed an orderly environment. Sally-Anne needed to be competent. Sally-Anne needed everyone to need her.

How much of this had been about helping my family? And how much had simply been for me?

Had I ever really put “family first” at all?

I had used family (or me) as an excuse to avoid thinking about Lord Voldemort. I had ignored the signs of the times and pretended that I had no duty to anyone or anything outside my family (me). I had a sharp vision of Terry Boot’s blue eyes, and almost heard him saying, “You don’t do homework every evening, do you?”

Family wasn’t the real reason I had ignored my civic responsibilities.

The real reason was me.

I was frightened of Voldemort being back, so terrified that I had refused to believe it. Even after I couldn’t help knowing that Harry Potter was right, that Voldemort really was back, I had made myself believe that there was nothing I could do about it. I had thought non-stop about family (me) so that I didn’t have to think about a defence strategy.

Yet a defence strategy was one thing that really would help the Muggles in my family.

I averted my eyes from the dazzle of sunlight through the stained glass. I couldn’t look at anything. I had entered the chapel to talk to God, for I had always assumed that God was love and He listened to decent people. But I knew now that I had been so self-centred and self-deceived for so long that He couldn’t be pleased with me. How would I ever dare speak to God again?

In the deafening silence of my own empty mind, a memory stirred, the memory of a confident voice reading archaic words.

My heart stopped. No matter how bad the truth about myself might be, hiding from that truth was even worse. After I had faced up to it, God would certainly listen.

No wonder Terry laughed so much!

“I’m sorry,” I said out loud. “This time, I will not let my fears defeat me.”

The next second, the chapel door was opening. Calm down! I reminded myself. It won’t be the Death Eaters today! Of course not. It was only Susan.

“There you are, Sally-Anne! Hannah and I have been looking for you everywhere. Are you all right? You do look sick.”

“I’m better now,” I told her. “Susan, why were you looking for me?”

“Did you lose track of time?” She sat down beside me. “We worried when you didn’t turn up for the Charms practical. Are you really all right?”

“What?” I glanced at my watch, dimly aware that she was right about time. “Susan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. What about you? Was your prac all right?”

“Mine was fine, although Hannah panicked a bit. They were testing us in alphabetical order, so we two came to look for you as soon as they had finished with us. Sally-Anne, I know you’ve had a few problems at home, but don’t you want to have a try at this exam? If you go down now, you might be just on time.”

I nodded without knowing what I was saying. Of course I didn’t want to miss the exam, so I followed Susan downstairs, across the Entrance Hall and into the ante-room. It was nearly empty. Only Lisa Turpin, Ron Weasley and Blaise Zabini were still waiting, and I only had a second to take my place behind Zabini (he gave me a superior sneer, but Ron offered a thumbs-up, and Lisa smiled sympathetically) before the door opened again to admit Professor McGonagall.

“Miss Turpin, the examiners are ready for you. Weasley… Zabini… Now, Miss Bones, where did you find Miss Perks?”

“She was feeling sick up in the chapel, Professor. But I didn’t say a word to her about the exam questions.”

Professor McGonagall nodded. “I shall have to cross-check that story before your exam results can be validated, Miss Perks. But for now, you had better enter the Great Hall and go to Professor Marchbanks.”

Sliding my wand into my hand, I followed Ron into the hall. The ancient examiner smiled intelligently and said, “Good afternoon, Miss Perks. Let me see your Summoning Charm.”

The O.W.L.s were fine after all. There were no more confusing thoughts in my mind. I didn’t even think very much about the Death Eaters. I was concentrating completely on my last-minute revision. While I knew I hadn’t scored any Outstandings, I was sure I had at least nine Acceptables. As soon as the History of Magic exam was over (deadly dull, but no trick questions), I walked out of Hogwarts and took the Hogsmeade Floo back to Hereford.

Mum couldn’t stop hugging me. She was tearful, although she had known for ten days that I had escaped from Cressida.

“I’m sure the Wizengamot would consider her behaviour child abuse!” she said. “It will take time to push the case through, but I think we finally have enough evidence to prevent her ever seeing you again.”

“Mum, I think you’re more upset than I am. It’s all right. I’ve escaped and I can probably avoid ever going back there. I’m not returning to Hogwarts next year, so I’ll have time to meet Dad in public places instead of in his house. And I will keep an eye on Ella-Jane and Molly-Rose so that we can act quickly if Cressida does anything to them.”

But Mum was still weepy. “First Cressida, then this Umbridge woman, now the Death Eaters! Am I ever going to be able to take care of my family?”

I said, “I’m sure there’s something we can do about the Death Eaters.”

“What?”

“You-Know-Who is back, Mum. It’s useless to deny it. We just have to be ready.”

Mum stopped crying. “I do know that really,” she said. “Of course he’s back. But I don’t know what anyone can do about it. I mean, I know I should tighten the security on this house, but it’ll cost money and I suppose I was… afraid of admitting that we needed to do it.”

For some inexpressible reason, Mum and I suddenly seemed far too alike in all the wrong ways. I had promised God that I would face my fears, but I hadn’t expected the first challenge to come from my own Mum! I reminded myself just how alike we were and forced myself to speak gently. “I know you’ve been busy, Mum, but I’m home now. We can call the Securities people tomorrow, and I’ll show them round while you’re in the shop.”

She nodded. “I’m so sorry to burden you with grown-up problems, Sally-Anne. But that really might be the best way.”

“We must also practise defensive spells.”

“My parents can lend us some books about that. I know they also have a few about the history of the last war, although I’ve never bothered to read them. But we should read them, so that we can recognise Death Eater tactics when we meet them again.”

“And we can contact Professor Dumbledore.” Suddenly I knew we were on the right track. “Umbitch will be gone by next week, so I expect Dumbledore will return to Hogwarts. If we tell him that we are… on his side… he’ll tell us what to do. Not only how to protect ourselves, but how to save innocent people and how to stand up to You-Know-Who.”

Mum smiled ruefully. “I know Professor Dumbledore used to have a kind of reserve army when I was young,” she said. “They saved hundreds of lives and restrained scores of Death Eaters. I’m afraid I never bothered with it because I was too busy following my own ambitions… collecting books for my parents’ shop… playing the piano… haunting the theatre… looking for a man who would give me a family…”

“We’ll do it differently this time,” I said. “We’ll put private life on hold while we work out exactly what Dumbledore wants us to do. Oh… there’s someone in the Floo.”

Although Mum did not light fires in summer, her hearth was nevertheless full of green flames, and soon Cecilia’s head appeared in the middle of them.

“Sally-Anne, where are you?” she complained. “I’ve asked everyone why you aren’t still at school!”

I knelt down and peered into the Slytherin common room. “Hello. Professor Sprout knows that I’m at my mother’s house.” It would be more tactful not to ask Cecilia about her exams, so I tried, “How is Xavier?”

“Flavian owled this morning to say he’s getting better. But never mind Xavier.” She giggled self-consciously. “Do you know what’s happened to me? I have a boyfriend!”

She waited for me to ask who it was, so I did.

“Blaise Zabini!” She was giggling so hard that I could hardly make out her words. “There, aren’t you jealous? Well, aren’t you? Listen, do you remember the Yule Ball? Blaise asked you to be his partner, and Mummy threatened to marmalise you! But you ended up going with that Muggle-born because Blaise binbagged you and invited me.” She giggled again. “But I had already accepted Theodore, so Blaise had to take Daphne. Anyway, Blaise Zabini has finally made up his mind and he loves me. So admit it, Sally-Anne. You’re jealous! … Well, say something!”

I tried to smile. “I hope you’ll be happy. Do you have any special plans for the summer?”

She switched off her giggle. “Sally-Anne Perks, that was vicious! You know very well that I’m going to have an abominable summer. I’ll be trapped inside Daddy’s house, babysitting my snotty little half-sisters and playing dogsbody to Lady Muck my stepmother, and I won’t see Mummy or Flavian until Christmas. You shouldn’t grudge me my tiny corner of happiness with Blaise. In fact, you should be grateful. Blaise is a very wealthy pure-blood, and now that You-Know-Who is back, we’ll need all our pure-blood connections.”

“I don’t see how connections will protect us against Dark wizards. Surely defensive magic would help us fight – ”

Cecilia almost choked with rage. “Fight! Defend ourselves! Against You-Know-Who? Sally-Anne, you are a binhead! The Dark Lord is going to win this war, and the people who’ll survive it will be his mates. If you do one thing to oppose him – if you dare put our family in such danger – and when I’m so miserable about this awful summer – ”

Now I was angry too. “If you don’t like Mr Runcorn’s plans for your summer,” I said coldly, “then take some initiative and run away from home. It isn’t exactly important compared with the need to fight off the Death Eaters. I will certainly not be befriending You-Know-Who!”

At that moment there was some jostling in the hearth. Someone pushed Cecilia aside with an unceremonious, “It’s my turn now, darling!” and I was face to face with Blaise Zabini.

“All this politics,” he said, with a slight flutter of his long eyelashes. “It wastes a lovely evening. Sally-Anne, have you perchance lost a shoe?” He opened his palm to display my crystal dancing-shoe.

“Where did you find that?”

“I picked it up ages ago, after some school dance or other. Cecilia’s been begging me to make her a present of it, but I’ve told her we need to find the real owner. And when all’s said and done, what’s the point of keeping only one of the pair? Someone has jinxed this shoe properly. It’s too large for Millicent, too small for Pansy, too narrow for Daphne and too wide for Tracey. Ursula nearly broke her toes trying to cram them in, and poor Cecilia ended up with a bleeding heel. It is yours, isn’t it, Sally-Anne? Good, I’ll owl it to you. Cecilia, you don’t mind lending Snowflake, do you?”

Cecilia’s jealous gasp made it clear that she did mind sharing both our brother’s owl and her boyfriend’s attention.

Zabini grinned triumphantly and vanished from the flames.

There was one last task for the day. I sat down at the kitchen table to write to Terry Boot. I blotted three or four drafts before I worked out what I wanted to say. After that the words flowed easily.

Dear Terry,

I don’t expect an answer to this letter. I’m only writing to tell you that you were right. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named obviously is back, and I ought to have realised that. I am so sorry that I did not believe it. Even if I wasn’t able to read the signs of the times, I know now that I should have trusted your judgment.

To be honest, I have understood ever since February that I ought to do something about it. I tried to believe that there was nothing I could do, but I was deceiving myself.

My attitude has changed now. I won’t be returning to Hogwarts next year, but being outside the safety of school walls actually puts me in a far more strategic position to oppose You-Know-Who. I want you to know that our family is on Professor Dumbledore’s side, and we will give him whatever help we can.

Thank you for your right-thinking example. I hope you will be happy.

Best wishes,

Sally-Anne.

By the time I had completed the fair copy, Xavier’s owl was swooping through our window, clutching in her talon a sparkle of glass. She dropped it high over the hard floor, and it bounced up into my hand. Yes! Although my foot had grown, my glass shoe still fitted perfectly.

As I tied my letter to Snowflake’s claw, I hoped Terry wouldn’t think I was demanding his attention. I truly didn’t require an answer. I only wanted him to know that he had been the right friend for me at the right time.

We were at war. People were going to die. Neutrality was an illusion, for the only two kinds of people left in the world were those who opposed Voldemort and those who made room for him. Every thoughtless indifference or acquiescence or compliance to Voldemort was an act of support for his agenda. The only people who were truly opposing him were those who resisted him actively.

I might never see Terry again, but it didn’t matter. I stood holding the shoe, staring after the white owl’s path across the darkening sky, as she bore northwards the news that I had chosen the right side on the war.