She paused and opened her fist. “I’m spell-casting. Strengthening the wards.”

On her palm was a small object that glinted silver. It was the source of the hum, and he could barely stand it. “Please,” he begged. “Please, put it away.”

She did, placing the object in her pocket, but she stared at him, perplexed. “But I need to make sure we’re protected.”

“It is only,” he said, “that I seem to be sensitive to magic. And that thing of yours is really powerful.” He rubbed his forehead, then pressed his hand to his chest where the pendant lay cold and vibrating against his heart.

Kat put her index finger against her lips. “Interesting,” she whispered. Then she said, “We should tell Gumble. She’s really good at helping us refine our gifts. She’ll help you with yours.”

“That would be good,” Isaac said with energy.

Then Kat looked past him and her eyes widened. “Well, will you look at that. My warding spell worked better than ever this time.”

Isaac turned around and blinked. How had that happened so fast? The meadow stretched all around the castle, the trees had retreated to the forest, and the vines that had hung over the garden wall were gone. “Wow. That is amazing. Like Macbeth,” Isaac said. “You know, where Birnam Wood . . .”

“Comes to Dunsinane,” Kat finished. “Which was a warning that something bad was about to happen. Yes. I know quite a bit about that story. You’ve read it, then?”

“Of course.” He added, “My parents wanted to be certain I knew English.”

They stared out over the misty and silent landscape.

“That mouse,” Isaac said, turning. “It reminded you of something.”

“Long story,” said Kat, sounding officious. “Right now I want to get properly dressed.”

*   *   *

It was nice to be able to clean up with soap and hot water and put on the warm school-uniform clothes Isaac found in his dresser. Breakfast was another matter. It seemed to be pancakes, but with little wiggling edges.

“It is . . . moving,” Isaac whispered to Amelie.

She giggled and passed him a bowl. “Porridge?”

Fortunately, it was porridge. Or it tasted like porridge. Isaac didn’t want to know more.

Colin came running into the dining hall, a bit breathless, dogs on his heels. “Leo’s back,” he said. “With someone strange.”

Isaac and Amelie exchanged a glance, and Amelie shrugged. “They’re all strange,” she said. “They’re MI-Six. And we’re kids. Doing magic. Which they like but don’t really understand, even when they pretend to. But they’re usually pleasant enough and let us get on about our business. Let’s go see what’s up.”

Everyone else had already assembled in the front hallway. Leo acted deferential to the newcomer, holding his luggage and coat.