I stomped out of the shop, annoyed I was being excluded, and stormed down the street straight into Honeydukes Sweetshop. It was full of loud, excitable third-years, buying, testing and discussing sweets. The sugary smell dissolved my anger, but left me empty and sad. A Hufflepuff in my year approached me, and I recognised her as Emily Keenan.

‘Hey, Xanthe! How are ya?’ she said happily.

‘I’m good,’ I said a little glumly.

‘Where’s Helda? She usually never leaves your side!’ she remarked.

‘Oh, she’s at Madame Puddifoot’s,’ I replied gloomily. ‘Professor Artemus wanted to have a discussion with her.’

‘Oh, right. Want some Ice Mice?’ she offered.

‘I’m good thanks,’ I muttered, leaving the noisy shop.

I spent a bit of time walking bored around Dervish and Banges, bought myself a small Butterbeer in the Hog’s Head, and meandered the streets, a melancholy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was just about to have a peek in Zonko’s when I glimpsed tight black hair and a blood-red dress. I realised it was Professor Awful Artemus. So… the ‘meeting’ must be over!

I darted into Madam Puddifoot’s, ignoring the protests and groans at my speed and destruction, and slammed myself down in the empty chair next to Helda.

‘You’re done!’ I cried happily.

But Helda had her head in her arm, and her arm on the table. Her hand, still curled around her dainty little tea cup, shook violently.

‘Helda! What’s the matter?’ I gasped.

Slowly, she rose her head, her eyes glistening with tears, her mouth curved into a depressed frown.

‘I don’t feel too good,’ she whimpered.