Sherlock Holmes and the Ravenclaw Codex

Chapter Ten: The Confession of Godfrey Easingwold

I knelt beside the stricken youth as he lay stretched out on the ground. His fever, clammy skin and the lesions on his hands, face and neck were all familiar to me after years of domestic practice. None should have been serious in itself: the real damage was the result of nervous strain and lack of proper medical care.

"Holmes," I said, "this young man has the chicken pox!"

Holmes was at my side in an instant.

"Chicken pox?" he said. "Are you certain? Might it not be something more sinister? Not some rare poisoning or obscure magical malady - dragon pox, perhaps?"

"Well, they may call it dragon pox if they like," I said with some asperity, "but I have been a doctor long enough to know chicken pox when I see it, or so I should hope - a more severe attack than most, as you might expect in an adult, and exacerbated by poor conditions and neglect, but that is all - observe the pattern of lesions, the mixture of new blisters and older scabs... Really, Holmes, I do wish you would curb these absurd fancies of yours!"

"My dear Watson, a thousand apologies!" replied my friend. "I meant no reflection on your medical knowledge, I assure you. I merely wished to ascertain whether he might be safely moved."

"Certainly he should be moved," I said. "This young man should be in the infirmary, not sleeping out of doors in all weathers. I suggest we see about getting him there at once."

"I was thinking more of London," came the reply.

"London?" I said in astonishment. "You cannot be serious, Holmes! This young man is seriously ill. What, expose him to the rigours of a train journey when there is a warm bed and expert (if unorthodox) assistance practically within hailing distance?"

"My dear fellow," said Holmes with a smile, "your laudable concern for your patient has once again blinded you to the wider implications of the case. Young Master Easingwold has made Hogwarts altogether too hot to hold him for the present, and although I have every confidence that I will be able to set matters right soon enough, I really could not answer for his safety at present. You have not considered this!"

He reached over the prone body of the invalid for the blanket-wrapped package the young man had let fall in his swoon. Holding the bundle as tenderly as a mother would an infant, Holmes peeled away the enveloping layers of cloth to reveal a large tome of considerable antiquity, bound in dark red leather, heavily gilded and studded with gems.

Alice Hawkes gave a gasp of horror.

"So it's true," she whispered. "The Ravenclaw Codex! I would never have believed it possible. Oh, Godfrey, what have you done?"

"It's all right, Alice," came a faint voice from behind us, where young Easingwold, still deathly pale, was struggling to sit up. "It will be a relief, in a way. I deserve to be punished for stealing the Codex, and heaven knows I'm not cut out for the life of a fugitive. If only I'd had the guts to own up before I had to drag anyone else into this mess!" He turned to face Holmes. "Well, sir, you have found me out at last. Take me to the authorities - I only regret that it has taken so long." He held out his hands to Holmes, his face a study in apprehension as he awaited the cold steel clasp of handcuffs about his wrists. Little Lizzie Robinson gave a wail and burst into tears.

"Don't be a fool, Easingwold," said Holmes, but not unkindly. "I would sooner send a lamb into a lions' den than hand you over to the tender mercies of Phineas Nigellus Black. Do not be alarmed - you are among friends. I am Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective, and my associate here is the estimable Doctor John H. Watson. Pray have the goodness to remain exactly where you are, and not to exert yourself in any way, while the good Doctor examines you, and your classmates and I discuss the best way to ensure your safety."

"But Mr Holmes - the Codex!" exclaimed the invalid. "I took it - there can be no mistake, indeed, I remember it all to clearly, alas!"

"You may leave the Codex to me," my friend replied firmly. "Both you and it are in safe hands now. I know all. You have been most shamefully used, and you may rest assured that the culprit will be exposed, and justice done! But first I really must insist that you allow the good Doctor to give you a thorough examination. You have a long journey ahead of you."

In truth, I had little more to learn from a further examination, but since this seemed the only effective way to pacify the agitated youth, I did as I was bid, while Holmes put the Hogwarts Irregulars to work. By the time I had finished my examination and made up such medicines as I had to hand, they had found enough wood to make a fire, and had got Easingwold out of his filthy school robes and dressed like a Christian in tweed trousers and a Norfolk jacket from my luggage, with the old black cloak that had brought us to the spot wrapped round his shoulders for warmth.

"Well now, Mr Easingwold" said Holmes, once we were all settled round the blaze, "it wants fully two hours until the Hogwarts Night Mail is scheduled to depart, and you have at most half an hour's walk ahead of you, even in your weakened state. Mr Kettleburn, who is strong enough to assist you in case of need, will accompany you, together with Miss Robinson, who is a native of the Seven Dials and can help with cabs and the like at the far end. And now I think we would all very much like to hear an exact account of the events of three nights ago. Be sure to omit nothing - the more detail you include, the better equipped I will be to clear your name."

"Indeed, you are too good," replied the grateful youth. "I shall tell you all I know, though I know full well that my case is hopeless. It will not be a long tale."

"Then proceed," said my friend, filling his pipe as he stretched his long legs out toward the fire.

"As senior Ravenclaw Prefect, it is my duty to make sure that all the lights are out in the tower at bedtime, and the outer doors locked. I had spent all that evening in my dormitory, with a fascinating book on the movement of Jupiter's moons. I was so engrossed that I lost track of the time, and as a result I was somewhat later on my rounds than usual - perhaps half past eleven. All was well in the dormitories, and all my classmates were fast asleep, so I descended the staircase to check that the main door to the rest of the school was secure - we have had some problems with Gryffindors recently, and Professor Llewellyn is most particular about keeping that door locked."

"And was it locked that night?" enquired Holmes.

"I never reached it," replied Easingwold. "I was not halfway down the stairs before a most extraordinary feeling came over me. I do not know how to describe it - at first it was like a marvellous dream, a delightful sensation - like drifting through warm, scented mist. At first it was no more than that, but before a minute had passed I found myself in the grip of what I can only describe as a mania. You will think me a fool or a liar, Mr Holmes, but I swear to you by all I hold dear that at that moment I was convinced that the Ravenclaw Codex was mine by right - and more than that - that I must have it that instant!"

"Just a moment," Holmes interrupted him. "You never reached the door, you say? Were you above or below the Codex chamber by that point?"

"Below," came the reply, "but I was back at the chamber quickly enough, to my shame. Oh, a part of me knew that I was doing wrong, but I was like a man possessed, and seeing the door to the Codex chamber standing ajar like that, with even a tool at hand to force the chest open... well, it proved too much for me. When the crowbar was actually in my hand the wrongness of it hit me, and there was a struggle... but it was short-lived, and before too long I gave in, foolish, blind wretch that I was! A second's work with the crowbar, and the Codex was in my hands. A sudden dread came upon me then, and I fled, dropping my wand as I ran. The next thing I knew, I found myself wandering in the school grounds. It was dark, the rain was pelting down around me and a bitter wind was blowing from the lake. The madness left me then, and the enormity of what I had just done hit me. I knew I had committed an unforgivable crime - something that would put me beyond the pale of wizarding society for the rest of my days. I am not ashamed to say that I put my head in my hands and wept, for I knew that I must leave Hogwarts behind me forever."

He paused at this point, overcome, and I observed the faces of his classmates. Both Stebbins and Lizzie wore expressions of mingled shock and disgust, but Kettleburn's fists were clenched, fury and pity written in every line of his face, and Miss Hawkes was pale and shaking, tears standing in her eyes.

"Dear me!" exclaimed my friend. "Such remorse, such melodrama! But really, my dear Easingwold - surely you do not still believe that you are anything other than an innocent victim in this whole sorry affair? I confess I am disappointed - your teachers spoke favourably of your intelligence."

"For pity's sake, Holmes!" I cried in exasperation. "Poor Easingwold has been through the most frightful ordeal! He is sick and in a state of pitiable anxiety. If you have any information that will set his mind at rest, pray do so at once! This is no time for your games."

"I do beg your pardon," said Holmes. "Pray excuse my levity, Easingwold - my remark was singularly ill-timed. However, it is not necessary for me to say any more - Miss Hawkes and Kettleburn have both seen the truth of the matter, I fancy. Perhaps one of you will enlighten the others."

"The Imperius curse!" hissed Miss Hawkes in a fierce, appalled whisper. "The fiend!"

"Indeed," my friend continued, "the Imperius curse - a vile spell that makes a puppet out of the strongest and best of men, depriving the victim of his free will. A man in the grip of the Imperius curse, Watson, would slay his own mother, or betray that which he held most dear in all the world. Even wizards shun this magic - and with good reason."

Godfrey Easingwold stared at us in astonishment.

"The Imperius curse!" he gasped. "Of course! What a fool I have been! God bless you, Mr Holmes - I can look the world in the face once again!" He hid his face in his hands once more, overwhelmed with emotion.

"Well now," said Holmes, smiling, "do not allow yourself to be overcome just yet. You have still to relate how you came to the Forbidden Forest, and who provided you with food and blankets. Something to do with the caretaker Goyle, if I am not much mistaken."

"Mr Holmes, you are a miracle worker!" young Easingwold exclaimed. "It is exactly as you say. One of my uncles is a lawyer, and before I was chosen for Hogwarts he had hopes that that I would follow him into his profession. He would often take me to court to listen to his speeches, and it was there that I first saw poor Goyle, sitting in the dock with a gang of petty thieves. You can imagine my surprise when I came back from my third year summer holidays to find that he was Hogwarts's new caretaker! Still, I did not betray his secret, and for that reason he has always had a kindness for me..."

"My dear young man, whatever were you thinking of?" I exclaimed. "A known criminal, a felon, permitted to roam a school at will? Scandalous!"

"I have another uncle, sir, a clergyman who works in the slums of the East End," said Easingwold gravely, "and he taught me that no man can fall so low that he does not deserve a chance to rise once more. So the Good Book tells us, Doctor Watson, and so I believe. In any case, Goyle is a good fellow at heart, though his manners are unpolished, and it was he who came to my aid when I believed all was lost. He stumbled on me as I sat despairing in the rain, and he saw the Codex in my bag, but he just called me a young fool, got me to my feet and took me to this cave, where he keeps his beer and pipe. He had planned to return the next day with a train ticket south, but when he came I had a high fever and had come out in spots, and he did not dare to move me. Whatever his past, he has been good to me, bringing me food and hot soup from the kitchens every day until your arrival, at which point he had to stop for fear of discovery, for he knew that Mr Holmes suspected him."

"Very good," said Holmes, "and very much as I had expected. You will need to rest before you set off on your journey, but before that, you would oblige me greatly by clearing up one final point. It is generally believed that for the Imperius to be fully effective, the subject must be within the caster's line of sight. I understand, of course, that once under the Imperius curse, your memories of your surroundings would be vague at best, but can you remember meeting anybody on the stairs?"

"Not a soul, Mr Holmes," answered Easingwold. "Everyone in the tower was asleep apart from myself."

"Think carefully, now!" urged Holmes. "Are you certain that you saw no-one?"

"Not a soul," replied the youth earnestly. "I could swear to it."

"Not the stair? Then the common room, perhaps? A dormitory? The Codex Chamber itself? Or one of the landings?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Easingwold. "The landing - by the Codex Chamber! I was inside the Chamber, trying to fight off the urge to open the chest, and I looked up - there was a man standing in the doorway! He was hooded and cloaked, quite tall I think, but he dodged out of the way when he saw me looking. He had a wand in his hand... but I was too busy with my inner conflict to pay attention."

"That's our man, without a doubt!" cried Holmes, springing to his feet. "Did you recognise him? Would you know him again?"

"But, Mr Holmes," the young man replied, "I could not see his face."