It's been a quiet week at Hogwarts. Steph's getting antsy. Now that life has settled, that her kids are predictable again, that nothing seems to happen, day after day after day - she's kind of itchy.

Weekends are nice. A nice change.

So when the wind blows in a herd of kids, it also blows in their diminutive Defence teacher, pink-cheeked from the cold and wrapped in fur and with a frosting of snow that quickly melts into dampness.

And with a smile, for Jo. As bland and sweet as ever her smiles for Jo are. "Good morning, Madame Harvelle. A butterbeer?"