Drawing the Line

I crouched down beside a stubby cylinder of blue sidewalk chalk resting in the gravel beside the front walkway. The chalk was gritty, bone-dry, and smelled faintly of dried plaster. Once I had a solid two-handed grip on the blunt end, I hauled it upright and dragged it firmly across the sunlit concrete flagstone. It scuffed over the pitted surface with a crisp, grating rasp, laying down a thick, powdery blue stripe straight across the path. I backed up three paces, dusting my palms off with a grin. Anyone planning baby Fred weasley used calk