(1) The Goblin Fair

On the last day of summer recess before her fourth year at Hogwarts, Giselle McGonagall sat in the dining nook in a flat above Diagon Alley, a little two-room place her Auntie had rented the day before.

Giselle was trying out a new cereal at breakfast while Auntie was down buying a paper. The cereal, Sugar-Frosted Chocolate Bombs, was designed to teach children to eat with their mouths closed. You had to be careful to keep your mouth firmly shut when you took a spoonful. It would explode, puffing out your cheeks and flaring your nostrils. But the taste was wonderfully delicious!

Through the window Giselle watched the shops opening and the early shoppers arriving. Was that--? Could it be Mr and Mrs Granger? Oh certainly it was. Who else wore such obvious muggle clothes? Everyone else was in capes and cloaks, top hats, pointed caps, bonnets, gowns with bustles, canes and parasols, the usual wizardy witchly look. And the way the muggle couple gazed about, as if they were astonished by the most common things, was so different from the rather placid expression of the magic folk.

Oh, and there was Hermione! Well, that settled it. The Grangers were here. The Weasleys could not be far behind, with Harry in tow, probably.

Giselle had spent the month of July at the Burrows. She knew their shopping plans, always waiting til the last minute to get school supplies. Well, didn't everyone? And just to prove it, there was Luna Lovegood strolling along with Neville and his grandmother.

The door swung open. Aunt Minerva came in with a copy of the Daily Prophet, nodding her head.

"It's official," she announced. "The Goblin Fair is coming to Hogwarts, after the second challenge in the Tri-wizard Tournament. For seven days. And the manager of the Fair is Jon Minnex."

Auntie slapped the paper down on a dresser and stood staring at it in that anxious way she had when something troubled her.

"Who's this Jon person?"

"Don't talk with your--!"

Too late. Giselle blushed, wiping her chin and the table top with her napkin. "I'm sorry, I really wasn't thinking."

"Mr Minnex was a friend of my younger brother... your father," Auntie said with a far-away look. "Dr Odin McGonagall." The name was spoken in a poignant tone. "He and your mum were Healers, you know, in the Faerie Ministries."

Giselle thought it best to change the direction of the conversation. "Is Jon Minnex a goblin?"

"His father was a mountain goblin, which are rather tall, and his mother was... a notorious woman."

Giselle pictured sleazy gun-molls smoking cigars in pubs. But surely...

"He married Caprice Eff of the Scottish Effs," Auntie said musingly. Then, on a solemn note: "Minnex accompanied your parents to Egypt when you were a wee child. I took care of you while..." Her face seemed almost to melt. Her eyes were misty. Then her face hardened. It was the look she had in the classroom when the students weren't performing as well as they should.

Auntie snatched up the paper and sat at the dining table across from Giselle, pouring herself a cup of sassafras tea.

"I have always suspected that Minnex knows more about the disappearance of your parents than he has let on," Auntie was saying. "He didn't seem to be very cooperative at the Inquest before the Wizengamut. 'Missing Without A Clue,' was the final verdict. Well, I suspect there ARE clues, and Minnex has them. The clues, I mean."

Giselle allowed herself to briefly think about it; how her mum and dad, who she barely remembered, went into the Cheops pyramid one day... and were never seen again.

Then she cleared it from her mind.

"The Grangers are here! Are we to go shopping right after breakfast?"

"Of course. But we should first discuss your second semester elective," her Auntie said firmly, but with a smile in her eyes.

Giselle tried to return the smile but her expression betrayed her true feelings. 'Alternative Magical Methods' sounded a bit scary. She had her hands full getting by with the traditional ways of casting spells and so on. Alternative ways were bound to be awfully complex.

Giselle considered herself to be your typical, ordinary student. She had long since given up the idea of being a real whizbanger witch. She didn't see herself as anything special. Her desire was down to earth. She would marry a good man (this always made her think of Charlie Weasley), have a baby boy and a baby girl, and be an efficient witch in someplace like Faerie Ministries, or Love Charms International, or some other simple, practical enterprise that paid well and offered a nice pension.

Did this require Alternative Magical Methods? She didn't think so, but Auntie advised it. It would look good on the application form.

"It's just the introductory course," Auntie said, "dealing only with the basic theories. I'm sure you can handle it. And it will help you prepare for your N.E.W.T. classes in Transfiguration and Charms. You simply MUST achieve that," she added rather desperately.

Giselle nodded, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk's and a milky mist blowing out from her ears.

"Don't take such big spoonfuls, dear."

Auntie tapped the paper. "There's an interesting article here about wandcraft, written by-- Oh, and that reminds me. What's this about your wand feeling funny?"

Giselle swallowed. "It just feels a little strange, is all," she said, glancing over at her wand lying on her Hufflepuff scarf on the nightstand. "I don't know, it's... it's like it wants to act up a little, for some reason. I noticed it at the Burrows last month when I used it to style Ginny's hair for a party at the Finnegans. You... remember?"

"Yes," Auntie said as if the episode was really nothing at all. "The peacock feathers didn't last long and her hair has grown back perfectly fine. No question, though, our first stop will be Ollivander's."