Matilda meets The Penderwicks in this charming, magical story about a young witch who accidentally travels back in time—the fourth in the “effervescent” ( Kirkus Reviews ) Poppy Pendle series. Della Dupree has the so-called honor of being named after the legendary founder of the prestigious witchcraft school, Ruthersfield Academy. Her namesake left incredibly big shoes to fill, and most days, Della doesn’t feel like she’s up to the task. No matter how hard she tries, Della’s magic seems middling, her spells sad, and her charms not so charming. Deep down, Della feels she will never do the academy founder proud. Then one morning Della is in the library early to work on her spells before class. Thinking about her name again, she finds herself chanting, “Twelve twenty-three, twelve twenty-three, Ruthersfield was founded by Witch Dupree.” But the open closet of time travel amulets nearby means her careless words have serious consequences. A mysterious wind gusts through the library and sweeps Della back to the year 1223. She ends up alone in a strange time with no idea how to get back home. Della has never had much confidence in her magic, but left with no choice, she must use her spells and ingenuity to find her way back across the centuries—and maybe finally feel she’s earned her name. Natasha Lowe knew as a child that she wanted to be either a writer, an adventurer, or to open a fancy teashop. So she did a little bit of everything, traveling from her native London to America where she ran The Tea House bed and breakfast and wowed guests with her grandmother’s shortbread recipe. She lives in Massachusetts with her husband and four children. She is the author of the Poppy Pendle series and Lucy Castor Finds Her Sparkle . Chapter One: Della Chapter One Della DELLA DUPREE, PAY ATTENTION,” MISS Barlow snapped. “This is a history of magic class, and you’ve been staring inside your pocket for the last forty-five minutes.” She tapped her wand against her thigh. “So I’d like to know what you have in there.” Della didn’t answer, although she wanted to point out that it hadn’t been for the whole forty-five minutes, only the last ten. However, she was too scared of Miss Barlow to say this. She thought about practicing the vanishing spell they had learned in potions class yesterday, but disappearing would only get her into more trouble. “Well, Miss Dupree? I’m waiting.” “A duck,” Della whispered, feeling her cheeks start to burn. “A tiny, baby duckling that doesn’t have a mother. He imprinted on me, Miss Barlow, and I have to keep him warm. I’ve put him under a sleep enchantment so he can rest,” she explained. “His name’s Pickle. He’s a common scoter duck, and it’s extra important to keep him safe because common scoter ducks aren’t actually common at all. They’re on the endangered list.” Della could hear Melanie Sloane and Cassie Watkins laughing behind her, and she shook her hair forward to hide her face. “Pickle is it?” Miss Barlow narrowed her eyes. “And last week it was a turtledove with a broken wing called Flutter.” “Also on the endangered list,” Della murmured. “And before that, if I remember correctly, a bunny with a torn ear that you stuck back together with healing tape from the nurse’s office? Very expensive healing tape I might add, which we like to save for broomstick accidents.” Della nodded, wishing everyone would stop staring at her. Miss Barlow stalked over and stood beside Della’s desk. “You’re not even on the right page, Della,” she sighed, glancing down at Magic in the Middle Ages. “ Perhaps if you paid more attention in class , your grades would improve.” “I’m very sorry, Miss Barlow.” “Do you even know what we’re studying?” “How Ruthersfield Academy was started?” “Yes, indeed, and I would have thought that you, of all people, would be interested in the founding of our great school,” the history teacher said. “Which as we all know was the first accredited school for magic in this country. Set up in?” She looked around the class, and the girls chanted back at her, “Twelve twenty-three.” “By?” Miss Barlow held out her arms, and Della’s classmates chorused, with a sprinkling of laughter, “Della Dupree!” Della winced, wishing for the twelve thousandth time that her parents had named her Isabel or Lucy or anything other than Della. But her mother had loved the name, so that’s what she had been called. In fact, as far as Della knew, she wasn’t even related to the original Della Dupree who started Ruthersfield Academy. There were Duprees all over Yorkshire and Lancashire, but the only witch Della was aware of in her family happened to be a potion maker called Agatha, four generations back, who had run a small magic shop on Oxford Street in London. “I mean we never actually thought you’d turn out to be a witch!” her mother often said. Although when Della amazingly showed signs of magic at five years old, turning her bathwater into lime jelly and floating out of the tub