A Bad Year for Slytherins

Chapter 1: The Ministry Raid

It wasn't the pounding on the front door that woke Beth, but Gregory's heavy footsteps in the hall outside her bedroom. She opened her eyes to a few streamers of pre-dawn light, and instantly knew something was wrong. There were too many sounds in the house for this early in the morning: Gregory's receding footsteps, the pounding which was eventually replaced by an altercation of shrill voices, only one of which Beth recognized, and less distinct sounds of confusion and people milling about. She shoved her feet in her slippers and went to see what was the matter.

As she made her way down the hall, Beth could make out words. Bestet, the Goyles' house-elf, was saying. "You is not coming in. No-one is coming in without Master and Missis' permission!"

And the unfamiliar voice was saying, "This is Ministry business, elf. Get out of my way."

By the time Beth reached the head of the stairs, Gregory was already advancing on the entrance, wand in hand. Framed in the doorway, scowling down at Bestet, was a small, round witch, and standing slightly behind her were two burly wizards, one of whom had a moondog on a leash. The moondog was straining at its leash and scrabbling the ground, all in total silence. That made it the only silent one in the entire tableau.

It was at this point that Beth's mother came in from a side door, one hand clutching her dressing gown, hair in disarray. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What's going on? What's the meaning of this?"

"My name is Lorelei Eusebius, and we're with the Improper Use of Magic office," said the unfamiliar witch. "We're here about unlawful items, literature, and potions that were reported to be in your possession. Tell your son to put that wand away. I could have him expelled from his school before you could say expelliarmus -- assuming he goes to school."

"I certainly will not!" said Beth's mother. "There's no law against a wizard holding on to his own wand inside his own house, much as you may wish there were. But then, to you lot we're all just magical creatures to be regulated and controlled, aren't we?"

"There's no need to be hysterical, Mrs. Goyle," Lorelei Eusebius said. "I merely require --"

"They was trying to force their way in, Missis," Bestet was saying scornfully. "They was trying to intimidate Bestet!"

Gregory had lowered his wand, by about half an inch. "I go to school," he was muttering.

Beth slipped quietly down the stairs to stand next to her mother and Gregory. Then her father came into the room, and everyone suddenly went as silent as the moondog.

The reason for his late appearance on the scene was immediately evident: He had taken the time to dress. One look at his neat robes and Beth felt ashamed of meeting visitors in her nightgown, even visitors as uninvited and unpleasant as the ones standing on the doorstep. The two wizards flanking Lorelei Eusebius suddenly looked small and insignificant next to Caleb Goyle. Gregory let his wand fall to his side.

"What's all this?" Beth's father said, a quiet growl.

"They say they're from the Ministry, Caleb," said Beth's mother. "They're here to raid our house."

He turned to Lorelei Eusebius, who nodded once in confirmation. "I must insist that you let myself and my associates in," she went on. "We have been kept standing on the doorstep --"

Beth's father cut her off. "D'you have a warrant?" he said.

She drew a scroll out of her robes, and unfurled it in Beth's father's face with a look of grim satisfaction. He glanced over it and grunted. "Does Lucius Malfoy know about this?" he said.

The Ministry witch smiled, an unpleasant edged thing. "Who do you think reported your possession of unlawful items, literature, and potions?" she said "I wouldn't rely on your powerful friends to protect you, Mr. Goyle; it's enough of a job to protect themselves, these days. And now I really must insist --"

"Come in," he said, and stood aside from the door. "Gregory, Beth: Back to bed."

"Ah, no," said Lorelei Eusebius, as she and her associates stepped through the door, the moondog almost bowling Bestet over in its eagerness. "I'm afraid that the entire household must remain within the view of either Mr. Garrett, Mr. Redpath, or myself until the search is over."

Beth's father gave a suppressed growl at that, and said, "Gregory, Beth: Come back here."

The children, who had already begun to make their way upstairs and were not about to stop just on Lorelei Eusebius's say-so, came back down to the parlor. Gregory leaned against the wall, and scowled. Beth took a seat on the sofa beside her mother. "But what if I have to use the toilet?" she said. She did, too. She hadn't gone when she woke up, in the excitement.

"Then I will accompany you," said Lorelei Eusebius. Beth decided that she didn't have to go after all, and wouldn't until the raid was over, not if it took five hours.

In the meantime, the two Ministry wizards had begun to search the parlor. The one without the dog -- Mr. Garrett, Beth thought it was -- had emptied all the glasses out of the big oak breakfront and was frowning at the whisky decanter as if he suspected it of containing something nasty. The moondog, meanwhile, was straining eagerly towards the next room back. "He's got a strong scent," said Mr. Redpath. "There's some powerful magic back there."

"Of course there's powerful magic back there," said Beth's mother. "That's my kitchen."

Lorelei Eusebius did not look impressed with this pronouncement, but simply followed Mr. Redpath and the moondog into the kitchen. Mr. Garret finished looking through the breakfront -- although he didn't put anything back -- and started rifling through the books on the shelves. The Goyles sat quietly and tried to seem unconcerned, except for Gregory, who remained standing. Still, a wince went through the entire family at a loud crash from the kitchen. They were just beginning to relax again when Lorelei Eusebius emerged from the kitchen, bearing a small stoppered bottle and a satisfied smirk.

"Poison hemlock, Mrs. Goyle?" she said.

"We has permits," said Bestet. "Missis is going specially to the Ministry every year to get them. It's for grigs, nasty bugses."

"Indeed," said Lorelei Eusebius. "Your stonework seems very sound for a house infested by grigs."

"I can fetch you the relevant documents, if you like," said Beth's mother.

"I'm sure you can," said Lorelei Eusebius. "I believe I will be interested in inspecting many of your documents very closely, Mrs. Goyle. And making some recommendations to the relevant offices. Later. For now, stay where you are, please."

Apart from the hemlock, however, neither Lorelei Eusebius, Mr. Redpath, nor the moondog could find anything questionable in the kitchen, and shortly thereafter Beth heard the slam of the great doors that led from the kitchen to the dining room. The portrait of Great-Grandmother Chant that hung above the head of the table had apparently heard it too, for the slam was immediately followed by a quiet but unceasing monologue of complaint. Beth's mother was known to remark - though not in the presence of Beth's father -- that at least when the old woman was alive she'd had to pause occasionally for breath. Luckily, she'd had her portrait painted while reclining on a divan, and spent most of her time sleeping picturesquely. Now that she'd been woken, however, the Goyles would be lucky to have a quiet meal by the next week.

Mr. Garrett, in the meantime, had turned the Goyles out of their seats to search the cushions of the sofa, tapped all over the coffee table looking for secret compartments, examined the workings of the antique wireless, muttered counter-charms at everything in the parlor to see if it would turn into something else, and finally given up and taken a seat, staring stonily at the Goyles as they stonily avoided looking at him. Except for Gregory, who continued to glare.

They remained that way for some time. The footsteps of the other searchers moved away from the dining room, and out of hearing range, although Great-Grandmother Chant continued to be depressingly audible. Bestet began to tidy up the disarray that Mr. Garrett had made of the parlor. Lorelei Eusebius, Mr. Redpath, and the moondog came back through the parlor and disappeared up the stairs. Beth fidgeted in her seat.

Finally, the Ministry witch, wizard, and dog returned to the parlor. Lorelei Eusebius, in particular, looked thoroughly disgruntled. "Mr. and Mrs. Goyle," she said, "there are a number of things we came across in our search which I wonder whether you can explain. Mr. Redpath tells me that Phobos quite definitely smelled a Procrustean Maiden in the southeast corner of the library --"

"My grandfather had one," said Beth's father. "It was destroyed."

"Immediately after the publication of the Warlocks' Convention of 1863, of course," said Beth's mother. "He was a great collector of oddities, was Grandfather Goyle."

"Again in the library," Lorelei Eusebius went on, "there was a complete collection of The Books of the Minor Arcana --"

"Not complete," said Beth's father.

"We have no Volume 13, as I'm sure you noticed," said Beth's mother.

"Dragon's breath tea leaves in the medicine cabinet --"

"Legal," said Beth's father.

"With the proper protective spells, which I certainly hope you've restored," said Beth's mother.

"And finally," said Lorelei Eusebius, "I have been to many wizard's houses which were bigger on the inside than on the outside, but never until today have I been to one which is so much bigger on the outside than on the inside. How exactly does one get to the east wing from here, Mr. Goyle?"

"One doesn't," he said. "It's not been used for years."

"I see," said Lorelei Eusebius. Her expression made it clear that she thought there were Dark rituals held in the east wing every full moon, and twice in October. In fact, there simply hadn't been the money to keep it up since Grandfather Goyle's day, and all the connecting passages had been bricked up. It was not quite as unused as Beth's father made out, however; Gregory and Beth had loved to play there when they were small, and Gregory still skulked off to the east wing whenever he wanted to be left alone.

"My warrant," Lorelei Eusebius continued, "covers the entire house, including the east wing. If there is no access to it from inside the house, we are all simply going to have to take a walk."

And so the party from the Ministry and the Goyles made their way across the lawn, Beth and her mother in their slippers, Gregory in his bare feet. The grass had not been trimmed for some time, and the bottom of Beth's nightgown was soon soaked with dew. The sun had come up over the horizon, and the morning mist begun to lift, and the east wing of the Goyles' house bulked impressively against a backdrop of hills and forest. The moondog bounded out ahead, ignoring darting birds and rodents, hot on the scent of magic. Mr. Redpath hurried close behind.

The moondog came upon a window whose peeling shutter hung open, and cleared the crumbling sill with one leap. The rest of the party scrambled after him. A silvery ghost hung from a silvery rope high up in the rafters, and Lorelei Eusebius let out a small gasp.

"That's Uncle Geoffery," said Beth's mother. "He never says anything or does anything; he just hangs there."

"I see," said Lorelei Eusebius. Apart from that, the room was entirely bare. Nor could any of Mr. Garrett's pokings or proddings persuade anything invisible to reveal itself, or any secret chambers to open. The moondog seemed impatient to be gone, and soon the rest of the party followed him out into the hall.

The search of the east wing went quickly. Most of the rooms were empty, and the occasional stick of broken furniture, or plant growing up from the floor proved to be harmless. There was a moment of excitement when a frayed carpet in one of the rooms was found to be floating an inch or so above the floor, but Mrs. Goyle assured the searchers that it could not be persuaded to go any higher, or move about in any other way, and after a thorough examination Mr. Garrett had to admit that she was right.

It was only when they began to climb the winding stair to the tower that the moondog showed excitement once more. The tower room was more furnished than the rest of the east wing put together, but still there wasn't much: an old broomstick, an armchair that, apart from worn upholstery and a few stray bits of stuffing poking out, was perfectly serviceable, a cloak of Gregory's hanging from a bracket that once had held torches, and Gregory's school trunk. It was the latter that the moondog was pawing at and sniffing with frantic haste. Lorelei Eusebius looked distinctly more cheerful as she knelt to examine its contents. These proved to be: a packet of biscuits, a flask of water, a deck of cards, a couple of firecrackers, and several dead bugs in jars. Mr. Garrett examined them one by one, but none of them was anything but what it appeared to be. The moondog ignored them all and continued to scratch at the trunk. And then, with a quiet hiss of triumph, Lorelei Eusebius drew a slim book from where it had been hidden between the lining of the trunk and the wood. Gregory turned white. Beth was merely puzzled: Of all the things that Gregory might be doing by himself in the east tower, she had never thought he might be reading.

"Oh," said Lorelei Eusebius, paging through the book, whose cover read A Compendious, Comprehensive, and Well-nigh Exhaustive Guide to Simple Potions. "Oh-ho. Stolen school property? I may write out that expulsion order yet."

"It isn't stolen," said Beth's father. "It's mine."

"Really," said Lorelei Eusebius, looking up from the book and smiling broadly. "Then I suppose you realize that some of the recipes in this book are classified as Grade 2 Dark potions. Legal for educational and research institutions to own, but not private individuals. I will be confiscating this book --" here she handed it to Mr. Garrett -- "And there is a matter of a sixty Galleon fine. Moreover, you will be required to appear before a Wizengamot. I will be presenting them with all my findings. I have every confidence that they will be able to find out what really happened to your grandfather's Procrustean Maiden, and your missing Volume 13."

As she was speaking, she took a roll of parchment and a livid red quill and began to write out a summons, which vibrated like a Howler about to explode. She handed it to Mr. Goyle, who took it without a word. Equally silently, Lorelei Eusebius, her associates, and the Goyles made their way downstairs and out the tumbled window. When they reached the center of the lawn, the party from the Ministry summoned their broomsticks, and with a "Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Goyle," from Lorelei Eusebius, took to the air, the moondog running before them as easily as he ran across the grass.

"Dad," said Gregory desperately as soon as they were out of sight, "I'm sorry, I didn't even know it was there --"

Beth's father turned without replying and began to stalk towards the house, the rest of his family following after. When they were all inside, Beth's mother sank onto the couch with a heavy sigh and said, "Bestet, make us all some tea." Beth, however, was already making for the nearest toilet at top speed.

Later, with breakfast finished and the dishes cleared away, Beth went up to her room, which, she noted sadly, was an utter tip. The drawers had been pulled out of the dresser and were stacked on the floor, the dresser itself, along with Beth's desk, had been pulled away from the wall, and clothes, books, and stuffed dolls had been thrown at random across the room. The only neat spot was Beth's bed, which Bestet had just finished making, with fresh sheets and aggressively sharp corners.

"Bestet," said Beth with some surprise, "you know it's my job to keep my own room neat."

"These is extraordinary circumstances," said Bestet. "You is never leaving your room like this, Miss."

"I know," said Beth, picking her way across the floor. "But I . . .oh."

Beth's diary, with its cheerful blue-edged pages, was lying open on the desk, on top of a pile of winter robes. Apparently the searchers, not content with looking through all twenty-six books of Beth's Sylvia's Unicorns series, had decided to check the diary for Dark spells. The witch at the shop where Beth's father had got the diary had charmed it so that it only opened to Beth's thumbprint, but the charm had not been proof against the experts from the Ministry. Beth tried to close the book, but it wouldn't even shut properly now; it just sprang back open to the page it had been showing when Beth found it. "They could have just asked me to open it for them," said Beth.

"Miss?" said Bestet.

"It's not important," said Beth. She found she did not want to look at the diary anymore. "I haven't written in it in nearly a year anyway. Just toss this out with the rest of the rubbish, Bestet, please."

For the next hour, Beth and Bestet painstakingly put the room back the way it had been. Beth didn't know any cleaning spells, and wouldn't have been allowed to do them if she had known, but then Bestet couldn't reach the top of the desk without a stool, so it evened out. Beth didn't realize how tired she was until they finished. Bestet hurried off to do the rest of the house, and Beth sank down on her bed, looked once around the room with satisfaction, and promptly fell asleep. She did not wake up until her mother came in, some time later.

"Beth, dear," said her mother. "I didn't realize you were asleep."

"I wasn't," said Beth. "Was I?"

"There's been an owl from Hogwarts," said her mother.

Beth bit her lip. Had the Ministry witch gotten Gregory expelled after all?

"You're in," her mother went on. "You're going to Hogwarts, dear."