The Eagle and the Badger

Chapter Thirteen: Taking Steps

Sticky wet flakes were falling fast as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs trudged down to the Quidditch pitch through a thickening blanket of snow.

Halfway there, Lucia felt something wet and cold smack the back of her neck. She whirled around to glare at whoever had thrown the snowball and saw Gordon Pucey doubled over with laughter.

"Idiot!" she shot back, wiping off the remains of Pucey's missile. That only made the infuriating boy laugh harder. Lucia wasn't given to name-calling, but she was too angry at the moment to care about decorum.

To her annoyance, Scorpius had his back turned and was engrossed in a suspiciously deep conversation with Harper and Nott, neither of whom cast so much as a glance in her direction. The message was clear: when it came to confrontations with Scorpius' friends, she was on her own.

"All right, Luce?" asked Mike, tossing the end of her scarf back over her shoulder. "I saw that git peg you."

She honored Pucey with a ferocious scowl, whereupon he scooped up another handful of snow and quickly packed it hard.

Before he could throw it, she whipped out her wand (no easy feat with mittens on) and pointed it at him.

Lucia grabbed Mike's arm. "Let it go; he's not worth the trouble."

She had no idea what Mike had been about to do, but she didn't think it would be wise to escalate the fight.

Mike grunted and followed Lucia to the Quidditch pitch. She hadn't exactly apologized for being suspicious of her best friend's motives, but Lucia found it easy to forgive her. In the Muggle-born girl's place, she might have doubts, too.

While Mike now seemed as easy with Lucia as ever, her attitude toward Slytherins had definitely hardened. She'd had words with Sam Thicke on several occasions, and Lucia worried that one of their squabbles might evolve into an actual duel - though what either of them knew in the way of jinxes or hexes, she couldn't be sure.

A few minutes into the match, Lucia held her breath as Pamela Davies took possession of the Quaffle and flew like an arrow straight toward the goal, though Lucia could barely make it out through a wall of white. No one could tell whether to cheer or groan until the announcer, a Gryffindor named Paul Mazurka, shouted into his megaphone, "Ten points to Ravenclaw!"

If Lucia had thought Quidditch boring, she quickly realized that it was different when it was your own house playing. Her hands clenched into fists inside her mittens as she watched a Hufflepuff Beater launch a Bludger straight at Vern Forrester, but the strike went wide and he dodged it easily. He and Pamela Davies sped toward the goal, passing the Quaffle back and forth, until one of them - it was impossible to see which - finally scored.

"Ten more points to Ravenclaw! They're ahead twenty to naught. Are you going to let those points go unanswered, Hufflepuff?"

Apparently not, as the next three goals went to the House of the Badger, though it took ages to score each goal because visibility was so poor. Lucia was finding it almost impossible to follow the action now and was forced to get most of her information from the announcer.

Mike waved snowflakes away from her face in a vain attempt to clear her vision.

"Do you think the announcer is using magic to help him see?" she asked, peering in his general direction.

"I suppose it's possible," Lucia answered, only half-listening. Through a momentary lull in the storm, she could just make out the Hufflepuff Keeper, who seemed even to her inexperienced eyes to be behaving oddly. She leaned down to Amanda, who was sitting in front of her.

"Isn't the Keeper supposed to stay in front of the goals?" she asked, just as Mazurka called out, "Ten more points to Ravenclaw! What's Chalmers up to? Has he forgotten where his own goals are? C'mon, snow's not that thick! But here comes Davies with the Quaffle - goal! It's now thirty-all, for those of you who haven't been paying attention."

"I have no idea what Chalmers is up to," Amanda growled, not taking her eyes off the action.

Ravenclaw scored two more goals in quick succession, and the Hufflepuff captain blew her whistle for a time-out. Once on the ground, she went into a huddle with Chalmers, who shook his head vehemently and then nodded. Marks clapped him on the shoulder and play resumed.

Hufflepuff's Bartlemy Bones managed to peg Forrester hard with a Bludger, but the Ravenclaw Chaser quickly righted himself and sped toward the goal with the Quaffle.

"Heads up, Chalmers!" warned the announcer, but it was too late. The Ravenclaw's Quaffle shot through the essentially unguarded hoop.

"What's wrong with their Keeper?" Amanda voiced what they were all wondering. Though Chalmers must have insisted he was all right, he still steered his broom erratically from side to side as Quaffle after Ravenclaw Quaffle found its mark.

When the score reached ninety-thirty, there were murmurs from the crowd, which changed quickly to shouts and cheering as, through the whirling flakes, the spectators could just make out Tamika Freeman, the Hufflepuff Seeker, holding up the Snitch and circling the field in triumph.

The Ravenclaws groaned with frustration, including Lucia, though she was secretly not terribly sorry to have the match end. Two hours of freezing in a snowstorm were quite enough, and now that Ravenclaw had been defeated, her thoughts strayed longingly to the common room fire.

"It's not fair!" Mike grumbled as they trudged back toward the castle. "We scored all the goals - well, nearly all - and still we lost!"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," Amanda said, her grumpy tone at odds with her words. "It's just one match. We can still win the Cup if we rack up a lot of points in our next two matches."

"Amanda's right," Lucia agreed in a soothing voice. "It's the total number of points that matters." She knew this much from listening to Scorpius expound on the game ad nauseum.

"Too bad we can't play Hufflepuff again, though," said Amanda, pulling her hat down more snugly over her ears. "I was wrong about Chalmers being a decent Keeper. Turns out he's pants as goal-tending."

As the girls scuffed their way through the accumulated drifts, Lucia searched for Scorpius, but he was nowhere in sight. She still wanted to talk to him about their mother's letter, but it seemed she'd have to wait.

ooOoo

"To winning the Quidditch Cup!" Robbie toasted, standing on a chair and hoisting a goblet of pumpkin juice on high.

"To the Cup!" shouted the rest of the first years, echoing toasts being made all over the common room.

Scanning the crowd of happy revelers, Hugo noticed Malcolm Chalmers sitting slightly apart from his teammates.

"Chalmers looks so miserable, you'd think we'd lost."

Trevor followed his friend's gaze. "I'm not surprised. He stank out there today. I think Marks was about to take him out of the game when Tamika caught the Snitch and saved her the trouble."

Hugo grinned. "Kind of too bad she caught it when she did; you might have got to play."

Trevor snorted. "I'll take the win, thanks. But I don't get it; Chalmers has been fine in practice."

He turned his attention to his sandwich, then got up, brushing crumbs off his robes.

"I'm going to talk to him," he said, "see if he's ill or something."

Hugo watched as Trevor made his way through the crowd and pulled up a chair next to the Hufflepuff Keeper. Chalmers looked annoyed at first, but the two boys soon had their heads together. They talked for a few minutes, then Trevor returned, an odd expression on his face.

Hugo pounced on him immediately. "What was that all about?" Trevor looked Trevor looked around. Everyone seemed to be focused on the celebration, but as usual, the first years were clustered nearby. Instead of answering Hugo's question, he said, "I need something from the dormitory."

He walked off, leaving Hugo to guess that he was meant to follow. He waited a moment before heading toward the dormitory himself.

Once they were alone, Trevor wasted no time. " I told Chalmers he seemed a bit off during the match, did he feel all right, and he said he was fine, except that when he went into the air he just sort of forgot what he was supposed to be doing."

"He forgot?" Hugo was taken aback. "This is his second year as Keeper, isn't it? How could he forget?"

Trevor shrugged. "I agree, it's weird. Very weird."

A suspicion grew in Hugo's mind, but he didn't voice it. Instead, he said, "Thanks for letting me know. Shall we get back to the party?"

Hugo's mind was racing, and he wasn't sorry when the revelry finally died down and his fellow Hufflepuffs drifted off to their dormitories. He sat down at a small, well-lighted table and searched his bag for his daybook and a quill.

He turned to one of the blank pages at the end and scribbled the mundane heading, To-Do List. Then he sat with his head in his hands and thought for a few minutes before entering the first three items: 1. Talk to R. 2. Talk to C . 3. Talk to L.

List or no list, Hugo was doubtful that a couple of first years were going to be able to stop the sneaky Muggle-baiter. He wasn't the dullest wand in the shop, and Lucia was really clever, but neither of them knew enough magic at this point to fill one of his gran's teacups.

Then again, maybe it wasn't magic they needed. What they did need was some sort of plan, and perhaps if they put their heads together, they could come up with one. It didn't occur to Hugo to wonder why he was assuming he and Lucia Malfoy would be working as a team. It just seemed sort of natural, under the circumstances.

Though he was growing too tired to think very clearly, he made a few more notes, then decided he'd done all he could for the moment. Having done that much, he was able to go off to sleep with an easier mind. Any steps they took had to be better than doing nothing.

A couple of days went by before Hugo had a chance to talk to his sister. He came up behind her as lunch was coming to an end and whispered in her ear, "Boo."

She jumped and whirled around with a glare, then relaxed when she saw who it was. Her hair was now back to normal, but evidently her nerves were not.

"This had better be good," she warned him. "I nearly choked on my cake."

"I don't know about good," he said, "but there's something I need to ask you. I can wait if you're not finished."

She shrugged and wiped her mouth with her napkin before getting up. "Let's go. Make it quick, though; I need to get to Charms."

She led the way into the entrance hall and found them a spot out of the way of traffic.

"You were at our game, right?" he began without preamble.

"Of course, wasn't everyone? Why?" Rose's expression was suddenly keen.

"Then you saw how our Keeper had trouble with his goal-tending. I haven't seen him in other matches, of course, but I've gone to some practices and he's better than that - a lot better. So I've been wondering, are there spells, or potions, or something that could make him behave the way he did?"

Rose's eyebrows rose "You think there was magic involved? He could just have had a bad day, you know."

Hugo shook his head. "Trevor talked to him, and he said he was fine, physically, and doesn't have a clue why he couldn't seem to stick near the goals. He said that when the team was up in the air, he'd forget what he was doing there."

That got Rose's full attention. "Really . . . That's interesting. Offhand, I'd say there are a couple of possibilities. There are various potions that befuddle the mind, and there's the Confundus Charm."

She rubbed her chin between her thumb and forefinger, and her brow furrowed. "That makes better sense, actually, as a potion would have him acting strange before the match and on the ground, too; Marks would have noticed. Someone casting a spell could have worked it so he was affected only when actually playing. That way, Marks wouldn't take him out of the game . . . "

Hugo almost laughed, though Rose was talking about something very serious. She'd sounded just like their mum when she got going, even though the two of them were unlike in so many ways.

Rose didn't notice his expression; she was too focused on the subject at hand.

"Do you really think someone interfered with Chalmers?" she asked.

Hugo shrugged. "I think it's possible."

Rose frowned again. "It would have been a Ravenclaw, I suppose, unless it's a case of a personal grudge. If she thought there was something funny going on, Marks could have lodged a complaint at the time, but it's a little late now. And interference is awfully hard to prove unless someone actually catches the guilty party in the act. Even then - if there's a crash, say - it's one player's word against another's that it was deliberate."

She was right, of course.

"I'm sorry about your Keeper, though. At least you won, right?" Rose smiled and looked at her watch. "Oops - gotta go. See you."

"Right . . .thanks, Rosie," Hugo said to his sister's departing back.

As he made his way down to the Hufflepuff common room, Hugo wished he could chalk up Chalmers' confusion to an overzealous Ravenclaw fan. It was an explanation that made sense. All the same, he couldn't dismiss a darker possibility, and he hoped a word with Chalmers would be enough to relieve his mind - or confirm his fears.

ooOoo

Lucia was sitting by herself for a change, under the guise of needing room to spread out her star chart. In fact, she needed a distraction-free environment in which to think.

She'd assured Sukie Lawrence that her stalker would soon be caught and dealt with, but she wasn't at all certain of that. Anyway, what was she, Lucia, doing, except worrying and waiting for someone else to be threatened?

Then again, what could she do? She sighed and put down her quill, rolled up her chart, and fumbled in her bag for her daybook. Up to now, she'd used it mostly to keep track of her assignments, but now she turned to one of the blank pages at the end.

Slowly, she scratched out a few notes, then a few more. At the end of twenty minutes, all thoughts of Astronomy forgotten, she stowed her things and got up. There was no time like the present to tackle the first item on the short list she'd been able to create.

Fortunately, her friends were busy with homework and didn't ask her where she was going; she hated to lie, but she didn't want to have to answer questions, either. A short time later, she arrived at the hospital wing and found Madam Pomfrey in her office, reviewing case files.

At the sound of her footsteps, the matron looked up in surprise.

"Miss Malfoy. You're not feeling ill, I hope?"

Lucia shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I'm here about Camilla Carmichael."

Since she hadn't been invited to sit, she remained standing, feeling awkward but determined to ask what she needed to ask.

"She's all right, too, except - she still hasn't remembered anything that led up to her accident, and I was hoping - is there something you can give her? A potion that restores memory?"

Madam Pomfrey sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her ample bosom.

"I am sorry, Miss Malfoy, but as I told you, only time will tell if your friend will regain her memory of the events surrounding her fall."

Lucia's heart sank. "So, there's no cure for memory loss?" It was hard for her to believe that anything was impossible in the magical world.

She didn't say why it might be important for Mike to recover her memories, and Madam Pomfrey looked at her with narrowed eyes before adding, with apparent reluctance, "In cases of emergency, there are drastic measures that can be taken, but they carry inherent risks, and such treatments are entirely unwarranted in this situation. Now, if there's nothing else . . . "

She cast a meaningful glance down at the enormous stack of files in front of her.

Lucia sighed as she rose from her seat. "No, there's nothing, thank you."

Back in the common room, she made another note in her daybook. Perhaps, at some point, drastic measures would be called for. For now, she thought a talk with Hugo Weasley might give her some ideas. What was that saying about two head being better than one?

ooOoo

Which would be worse, Hugo wondered, interrupting Malcolm Chambers while he was engrossed in his studies or during the game of Merlin's Cave that seemed to occupy most of his spare time? From Hugo's brief experience with the game, it required nearly as much concentration as homework.

He realized he was waffling. The truth was, Hugo felt shy about marching up to the Hufflepuff fourth year and asking him intrusive questions. After dithering for the better part of an evening, he put aside his Potions book and approached the game-players.

"Er - when you get to a good stopping place, could I have a word?"

Chalmers looked up, saw the first year, and snorted. "Stopping place? Obviously you've never played Merlin's Cave, or you'd know it doesn't stop."

Hugo tried to think of another tack to take, but the Hufflepuff Keeper spared him the trouble by pushing back his chair and getting up.

"Don't touch my wand," he warned the other players. "I'll be right back."

The others broke into guffaws for reasons that were lost on Hugo, as a wand card was a prized asset in the quest, but he ignored the laughter and followed the other boy toward a couple of unoccupied chairs.

"Make it quick," said Chalmers, pushing back an unruly lock of light brown hair. He seemed to be in bad need of a haircut, but then, so was everyone at this point in the school year, including Hugo. No doubt his mum would pounce on him the moment he stepped off the Hogwarts Express.

Hugo nearly shriveled under Chalmers' irritated glare, but he took a deep breath and began.

"Er - I'm guessing you received some sort of threat before the game. Am I right?"

Chalmers' expression changed to pure astonishment, then he quickly recovered his poise.

"What do you mean, threat?" he said with a frown, forcing Hugo to explain.

When he stopped, Chalmers sat with pursed lips for a few moments before reaching into his pocket.

"Here, see for yourself if you're so keen," he said, thrusting a piece of parchment into Hugo's hand. Its contents came as no surprise.

Mudblood,

You have no business here. Consider yourself warned; this is no game.

Once again, there was the familiar serpent in place of a signature.

"How did you get this?" Hugo thought to ask. "Did it come by owl, or - "

Chalmers cut him off. "It was in the pocket of my cloak when I got back to the changing room after the match."

"I don't suppose you saw anyone hanging around there, anyone suspicious?"

Instead of answering, the Hufflepuff Keeper gave Hugo an appraising look. "You're Weasley, aren't you? I'm not sure what your interest is in this, but you'd be wise to mind your own business instead of trying to play detective. Given that bloody note, I'm guessing someone messed with me, and whoever it was, you're no match for him. And no, I didn't see anyone lurking about. I was far too busy trying to play Quidditch."

With that, he got up and returned to his game.

Hugo knew what detectives were, and from the dramas he'd seen on his Granger grandparents' telly, he didn't much mind being compared to one. On the telly, detectives always got their man. Then again, they often had police departments to back them up.

Hugo Weasley, Private Eye, that was him, armed only with a wand and his wits - and a clever Ravenclaw for a partner.

All joking aside, he was pretty sure that real life was nothing like television and that getting their man was by no means guaranteed.

Arranging to get together with Lucia proved to be a challenge, as they were both swamped with end-of-term homework, but at last, the two first years agreed to meet in the empty first floor classroom.

Hugo thought of locking the door before dismissing the idea as silly. Anyone could undo the simple Locking charm he knew. If anyone interrupted them, they could just say they needed a quiet place to study. In a way, it was even true.

After lighting the torches, they pulled a couple of battered old desks together, and Hugo took out his daybook. He wasn't really surprised to see Lucia do the same.

She looked at him expectantly, and after a second's hesitation, he plunged in.

"We said we'd share information, right?" he asked, and Lucia nodded, curious. Hugo seemed about to burst; whatever it was, it must be important.

"Something's happened," he began, leaning forward in his seat and placing his arms on the desktop.

Lucia listened in astonishment as Hugo told her about his conversations with Trevor, Rose, and Malcolm Chalmers. Before she could say anything, he showed her the note, which the Keeper hadn't bothered to take back. She read it twice before handing it back, looking troubled.

"So," she said slowly, "it's not just first years being targeted. And no first year could manage a Confundus. That's really advanced magic. Whoever did this must be older than us."

Hugo shrugged. "I'm not sure we should rule out anyone just yet."

He turned to the list he'd made. "Look Luce, I've been thinking about all this. I don't know about you, but I'm sick of wondering who's going to be next. The whole thing reminds me too much of what happened when Voldemort was in power."

His tone was vehement, and Lucia thought she knew why. His family must have told him so many stories about the evil deeds of the Death Eaters - and they were evil, she had no doubt, even though her grandfather was among them. The fact that her family was on the wrong side made her hesitant to speak up, but she finally did.

"As horrible as Voldemort was, he didn't invent prejudice. From what I've heard, there's always been Muggle-baiting, and witch-hunting, too. But I agree, we should try to find out who's behind this. That reminds me; I have something to show you, too."

She pulled out Sukie's note, and when Hugo had finished reading it, told him about the second one directed to Mike.

"Well," said Hugo, handing back the note, "someone obviously believes a Slytherin's responsible."

He didn't say, "your brother," but the implication hung between them. "Like I say, though, I don't think we should jump to conclusions."

He gestured toward his daybook. "I've been writing things down as they came to me. Why don't we go over what we know, what we don't know, and what we might do next?"

Lucia agreed, and for the next half hour, they compared notes and wrote down questions and suggestions. In the end, their daybooks were littered with question marks. Nothing really made sense. The three incidents seemed so different, so random.

Sukie Lawrence had found her first note in a pocket; anyone could have put it there in a crowded corridor or in the Great Hall, where someone brushing against you was just part of the daily routine. The closest thing to an attack on her was Sam Thicke's spell, and the two first years agreed that he ought to be considered a suspect, though Lucia had her doubts.

"He's a Slytherin, true, and he might hate Muggles - we don't know that - but he's just a first year like us. How could he pull off a Confundus Charm? I'll admit that spell in Charms sounds fairly impressive, but I don't know. He may just be a mean person, picking on someone just because he could. Sort of like my brother's friend Gordon Pucey. I can ask Scorpius, though."

She scribbled a note. Hugo wondered how far they could trust Lucia's brother; it was hard for him to take any Slytherin's word at face value, given their history.

That wasn't fair, though; he should keep an open mind. Nevertheless, he added Gordon Pucey's name to his list, along with "Scorpius Malfoy and friends," as he didn't know the others' names. He decided it wasn't necessary to tell Lucia he'd included Scorpius.

"What about that incident in Defense - you know, when Claudia Vector Stunned her?"

Lucia looked started. "Well . . . I suppose i assumed she was just showing off and would have tried that on any of us."

"Anyone who couldn't put up a strong shield, you mean," Hugo said. "I've never thought about girls this way, but maybe she's a bully, too."

"A bully?" said Lucia, twisting her lips in a thoughtful frown. "I haven't seen her bother anyone but me, actually, and that's just needling. To be fair, I don't think she means it that way. She just has a peculiar way of expressing herself."

Hugo looked doubtful but didn't argue. "Right. You know her better than I do. I wonder how she feels about Muggle-borns, though. Do you know?"

Lucia shook her head. "I'm afraid not; she doesn't really - er - share her thought with her dorm mates. I suppose I could try to find out." She sounded less than confident but wrote another note in her daybook.

"All right, that sounds good. Now, let's talk about Mike."

Lucia glanced at her notes. "Here's what I have, She could have tripped or been attacked. She's still not remembering what happened before she fell, and she gets cross when I ask too often. As for who might have attacked her, it could have been anyone at all. In that crowd, who'd notice someone slipping away long enough to follow her? Or recognize him, for that matter, as he'd have been in costume."

Hugo snorted. "Peeves might have, though I don't think he'll tell us, do you? But we could ask Professor Kindle if he saw anyone walking around . . . "

Lucia frowned, trying to think how they could frame such a question. Should they tell the Potions master what was going on? In the end, they agreed to add "Ask P.K" to their lists but leave a question mark beside it. They also agreed there was no reason a first year couldn't have snuck up behind Mike and hexed her. All it would take was a simple Jelly-Legs Jinx.

"Oh, and I almost forgot," Lucia said. "I asked Madam Pomfrey about giving Mike something to help her remember, but she said she wouldn't risk it."

Hugo frowned. "That's too bad. But potions aren't the only way to help people remember."

He related the story of his mother's desperate scheme to keep her parents safe from Voldemort and his minions to a wide-eyed Lucia.

"Your mother sounds brilliant," she said when he finished. "And incredibly brave."

Hugo felt his cheeks grow warm. "She is. I can ask her about the spells, if you like."

He stretched and covered a wide yawn. His head was spinning, and he was suddenly very tired.

"I don't know about you," he said, "but I think we have enough to go on with. Let's do what we can in the next few days, then get together again."

It wasn't until she was on her way back to the Ravenclaw common room that Lucia realized the extent to which she'd allowed Hugo to take the lead in their investigation, as they were now calling it.

Somewhat o her surprise, she found she didn't really mind. She only wished there were more time left before the holiday.