The Eagle and the Badger

Chapter 21: Investigation

Lucia's temper flared. "How dare you threaten my familiar!" she said hotly and was gratified to see a hint of something like surprise in Claudia Vector's pale eyes. Slowly, Claudia lowered her wand, though she kept it in her hand.
 Lucia savored her small victory. She hadn't realized until that moment just how sick she was of putting up with her dorm mate's incivility, which she'd done only because she felt sorry for the girl. So much for trying to make friends with her. If Claudia wanted to be left alone, so be it.

But she was not allowed to even hint at harming Calypso.

"She was only playing with something you'd thrown away," Lucia went on, struggling to remain calm. Unconsciously, she had slipped her hand into her own wand pocket. "I don't see why you're making such a fuss." After glaring at Claudia for another moment, she turned and started to walk away.

Claudia spoke to Lucia's retreating back. "I told you, I don't like cats. I especially hate cats that mess about with my things. I'd keep that in mind if I were you."

It was an extraordinarily long speech for her, and it was enough to stop Lucia in her tracks. She turned back and looked her dorm mate in the eye again, struggling to control her anger.

"Oh, I will," she said, keeping her voice as low and even as the other girl's. "But if you do anything to Calypso, I'll turn you into a - a - Chocolate Frog and eat you!"

She felt her cheeks go red the instant the words left her mouth. As threats went, that was laughably lame. Then again, she wasn't exactly experienced in making threats.

Claudia wasn't laughing. Though her face remained impassive, her tone darkened as she said, pronouncing each word very clearly and distinctly, "I wouldn't make threats if I were you. You have no idea whom you are dealing with."

"Oh, really?" Lucia snapped back. "Apparently, neither do you. The Malfoys are - "

She broke off suddenly, aghast. She'd been about to say something snarky and snobbish about her relatives' status, something her brother might have said.

" - Death Eaters," Claudia supplied with just a hint of a smirk. "Yes, I know. Everyone does."

With a muffled cry, Lucia whirled around and nearly ran out of the dormitory, tears welling up in her eyes. All thoughts of ink and essays had fled from her mind. Too flustered to rejoin her friends just yet, she sought out a quiet corner to gather her wits and calm her frayed nerves.

She wasn't afraid of Claudia, no matter who she claimed to be, but she couldn't help worrying about Calypso. Surely Claudia wouldn't really do anything to her . . . . She glanced around the common room for a gleam of white fur, but the cat was nowhere to be seen.

Lucia comforted herself with the thought that Calypso was smart enough to keep out of Claudia's way until the incident blew over. There were plenty of good hiding places for a small, magical creature within the vast complex of corridors and rooms that made up Hogwarts castle.

ooOoo

Hugo approached the Great Hall with a mixture of anticipation and dread. He really hoped that Professor Sinistra would have some good news, or at least, no bad news. As he slid into his seat, he glanced up at the staff table but was disappointed to see that the headmistress' chair was empty. About half the staff seemed to be missing, in fact.

Food appeared and Hugo piled his plate full of roast chicken and potatoes. The Great Hall seemed a bit quieter than usual, perhaps because the subject of that morning's attack had been chewed over so thoroughly by students with very little else to do. He only half-listened to the conversation around him, responding only when Trevor dug an elbow into his ribs to get his attention.

A few of the early arrivals were getting up to leave by the time Professor Sinistra appeared, spoke a few words to Professor Flitwick on her right and then, still standing, turned toward the assembled students. She did not have to call for their attention, as all eyes were upon her.

"Boys and girls," she began, her calm, clear voice carrying to the farthest corner of the room, "as I am sure you are aware, what happened this morning was no mere prank, but a serious attack on some of our students and thus, upon Hogwarts itself.

"You are naturally concerned about your fallen friends, so first let me assure you that all of them are in various stages of recovery. I have just returned from the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey told me that some of them may be released later today. Others, I am sorry to say, must remain a bit longer."

Hugo couldn't tell from Professor Sinistra's expression whether any of those were in serious danger. He hoped the matron was just being cautious in not letting them go.

"As your professors are busy assisting me in securing the castle and grounds and generally keeping order, classes will not resume until tomorrow; by then, the Ministry will have adequate reinforcements in place. Now, I've been asked to make an announcement you won't like so well. After lunch, you are to return to your common rooms and stay there until dinner."

With a rueful little smile, she paused to let the groans die away, then went on.

"I realize that this will cause some inconvenience," - more groans and muttering - "but unfortunately, it is necessary. Our concern is to keep everyone safe until the culprit is caught and dealt with."

The headmistress paused once more to survey her charges.

"Speaking of the investigation, it began this morning and will continue, with the help of Magical Law Enforcement and the Auror Department, until justice is served. It is most distressing to think that someone sitting in this room may have been responsible for an attack that could well have cost innocent lives. Know this: However long it takes, the perpetrator will be caught and punished."

Professor Sinistra's voice rang out as she spoke the last sentence, then she continued in normal tones.

"Kindly do not pester your teachers or the authorities for information about the investigation. They cannot tell you anything, and you will only impede their efforts. Now, please enjoy the rest of your lunch and make good use of your free time."

"She means 'have fun in jail'," Marco grumbled loud enough for everyone around him to hear. His fellow Hufflepuffs ignored the outburst, whispering among themselves in low tones as the headmistress resumed her seat.

"She didn't say anything about Quidditch!" Trevor complained, sounding almost as querulous as Marco. "We were supposed to have practice this afternoon."

Hugo shrugged. "Guess it's off, then. Maybe there'll be a notice on the board." For his friend's sake, he wished Professor Sinistra would make an exception. Being cooped up was disagreeing with Trevor even more than with the rest of them.

Besides, Hufflepuff had to play Gryffindor in two weeks, and it was going to be a tough match under the best of circumstances. Even though the weather was horrendous - sleet was currently pelting the enchanted ceiling - he doubted either team would willingly skip a practice.

As he pushed back his plate and rose from the table, Hugo spotted Professor Witherspoon at the staff table. A vision flashed through his mind of the portly head of house leading all of Hufflepuff in calisthenics to work off some of their pent-up energy, and he nearly laughed out loud. Well, someone had better do something to keep people occupied or they'd all be barking by morning.

In the entrance hall, Hugo saw half a dozen people in Muggle clothes, flanked by two MLE officers. The Muggles - parents of stricken students, Hugo guessed - were grim-faced as they headed for the stairs. A woman in a bulky tweed coat clung to her husband's arm, her face puffy as if she'd been crying. Hugo hoped their son or daughter was all right.

"Wonder how many of them will be taking their kids home?" said Trevor, who had caught up with Hugo and was forcing Hugo to keep us with his longer stride.

Hugo's heart sank. He'd been so focused on the victims, the identity of the poisoner, and the inconvenience of the new restrictions that he'd given no thought at all to the wider implications of the attack.

He was positive his own parents wouldn't take him out of school if he was injured. After all, they'd suffered from all sorts of spells and accidents when they were students. His mum's parents were Muggles, true, but they hadn't taken their daughter out of school even when she was attacked by a basilisk.

Then again, had anyone actually told them? How would you explain something like that to Muggles?

This was different, though. You couldn't pass off a mass poisoning as, say, the flu, could you? The whole wizarding world would soon be buzzing about the incident, and word was bound to reach parents of Muggle-borns along with the magical ones. Being truthful with them was probably the wise thing to do. But suppose a bunch of them did decide that Hogwarts was just too dangerous for their kids . . . .

He and Trevor had been descending the stairs. Hugo was so lost in thought that he nearly tripped when he reached the bottom. Windmilling to regain his balance, he ignored Trevor's snigger. Sobering, the other boy looked at his friend curiously.

"Didn't you hear me? I asked you what you think the Prophet's going to have to say about all this."

"Oh, sorry," Hugo apologized. "I've no idea, but from what I've seen, they'll play it up. Mum says if a story is more than half accurate, it's a miracle."

The boys were about to give the password when Hugo felt someone seize him from behind in a tight hug.

"Erggh! Geroff me!" he protested, just as a very familiar voice exclaimed, "Hugo, darling! Stop wriggling! It's only me."

Hermione Granger relaxed her grip and stepped around to give her son, a thorough maternal once-over. Red-faced, Hugo could only stammer, "Erm, Mum, what are you going here?"

Hermione smiled briefly. "Working, of course." Then, in a different tone, she asked, "Are you all right?"

Hugo recognized the slight puckering of her forehead that signaled maternal anxiety.

"Fine, Mum," he assured her in an attempt to avert a fuss. "It was the Muggle-borns that got attacked, not us."

He regretted the words as soon as he said them and felt his cheeks grow warm. He hadn't been raised to think in terms of "us" and "them" and didn't want his mother, of all people, to think he'd developed some sort of prejudice in just a few months at Hogwarts.

He needn't have worried, as Hermione had turned her attention to the tall boy standing next to her son. A number of Hufflepufffs skirted the little group to get to the common room entrance, casting curious glances their way before giving the password and going inside.

Hermione appeared not to have noticed the looks. "You must be Trevor," she said with a pleasant smile. She held out her hand and Trevor shook it, looking a bit bemused at the sight of his friend's mum in full MLE regalia. He was well aware of Mrs. Granger's position, as Hugo tended to go on about it a bit.

Hermione released him and dug into a pocket of her cloak.

"Here," she said, holding out a fattish roll of parchment.

Hugo took it with a quizzical look. "Er - thanks. But what - "

Hermione had reached out as though to ruffle her son's hair but withdrew her hand quickly when she caught the expression on his face.

"Sorry, darling, no time to talk now," she said with a rueful smile. "Perhaps I'll see you later. Stay safe and try not to worry, all right?"

Hugo watched his mum hurry off. Despite her confident stride, he guessed she was probably worried, too, but at least she had something to do. It surprised him a little that she hadn't fussed over him more, until it struck him: This brisk, matter-of-fact professional was his mum at work. He'd just caught a glimpse of the head of Magical Law Enforcement, and somehow, the sight made was reassuring.

ooOoo

The Ravenclaw common room seemed much more crowded than usual. It took Lucia a few moments to pinpoint the reason: Everyone had now returned from lunch, and it was evident that no one was being given passes to leave. Jain stood at the door, shaking his head at everyone who approached, until at last everyone got the point and stopped bothering.

"What do you think is going on?" she whispered to Ruth, somehow feeling the need to keep her voice down. Before Ruth could answer,r, half a dozen uniformed men and women swept into the common room and strode toward the dormitories. Conversations died as every head turned to watch.

"What are they doing?" Ruth murmured into the silence, unconsciously echoing Lucia's question.

Amanda shot her a disdainful look. "Investigating, of course. They're going to search the dormitories, and then they'll probably question everyone."

Lucia wondered if Pam - who was now stationed outside the door to the dormitories - had actually told her sister this or whether Amanda was just guessing. Either way, it looked as though she was right.

"I don't much like the idea of those coppers pawing through my trunk," Mike grumbled. She sat sprawled in an armchair with her legs stretched out in front of her and her long, graceful fingers drumming on the arm.

Two things struck Lucia at once: First, how much taller her friend had grown since the start of the school year, and second, Mike's use of a Muggle term for law officers. And she'd said "you" as though she wasn't a witch, just like the rest of them.

Lucia almost said that, but Ruth was already telling Mike not to worry, though the creases in her forehead was at odds with the soothing words.

"They won't find anything in any of our trunks, at least, and they'll soon be gone." Ruth's smile wavered a little as her glance drifted toward the dormitory door.

"Of course they won't . . . " Lucia trailed off. Those officers were going to be very, very thorough. She could just imagine them now, laughing over her silly stories, peering through her notebook . . . Her notebook!

It wasn't so much the thought of having them read her diary that made her blush; she was pretty sure her jottings in that were nothing out of the ordinary, though it was embarrassing to think of a stranger reading more private thoughts.

The notes about the Muggle-baiting incidents were another matter. What would real detectives make of her amateurish attempts at sleuthing? Her cheeks burned at the thought.

It was awful, just waiting, and the search could take ages. In a desperate attempt to distract herself, Lucia took out her Transfiguration book and flipped through the chapters at random, stopping to read an interesting-sounding section on how to change a mouse into a snuffbox. They hadn't tackled that yet, though rumor had it they might have to do it as part of their final exam.

The instructions began, "Choose a well-proportioned mouse," which made Lucia giggle before reading on, fascinated though rather daunted by the complexity of the magic involved. After a moment, though, her mind began to wander.

Mice . . . What simple lives they led! It would be rather nice to transform into a tiny creature and just scamper about the castle with nothing to worry about . . . .

Nothing except being Banished by a house-elf or eaten by a cat. A cat . . . Calypso . . . Where was she? Lucia closed her book and looked around for her familiar as though her thought might be a sort of Summoning charm, but the cat was nowhere in sight.

The book slipped off Lucia's lap and as she bent to retrieve it, she saw three of the officers emerge from the dormitories and approach a group of seventh year boys, who were making a bad job of pretending indifference. Ruth wrung her hands.

"You don't suppose they're being arrested - ?" she whispered. "Not so soon . . . "

"Of course not!" Amanda scoffed. "They'll just be questioned. We all will. Whoever that Muggle-hating bastard is, he doesn't stand a chance."

Lucia scarcely noticed the profanity, so impressed was she at Amanda's air of authority. The first year had "prefect" written all over her. Perhaps it ran in families.

"Erm," said Andy Banion, who'd wandered within earshot. "What do you think they'll do to us, exactly?"

He and Amanda were soon arguing about whether MLE would resort to Veritaserum or Occlumency or both. Everyone else watched the two of them like spectators at a Quidditch match.

"I'd like to see them try that rubbish on me," Mike threw in at one point, sounding so ferocious that Andy and Amanda broke off to stare at her.

"Probably they'll just want to know what we saw and heard this morning," said Andy a little sheepishly, and Lucia tended to agree. All the same, she wished the investigation was over and they could all get back to normal - whatever that might be.

ooOoo

In an effort to avoid being pestered by questions, Hugo decided to read his mum's letter in the dormitory. What greeted his eyes as he entered caused him to stop dead at the door.

The curtains on all the beds had been pulled back all the way, and the five beds looked as though their occupants had spent the previous night thrashing wildly in the grip of horrid nightmares - only Hugo knew he'd slept fine and had straightened the covers before going to breakfast. HIs mother had warned him before he left for school not to make extra work for the house-elves.

"They do so much already," she'd said in that earnest voice he knew so well. "It won't kill you to be a bit thoughtful."

It took Gabe coming in and demanding, "Who's been into my stuff?" to bring home the truth: Their room had been, in crime-drama lingo, tossed.

Ignoring Gabe's rant, Hugo hurried to check his own trunk, which he never bothered to lock. Sure enough, someone had clearly been pawing through it, as a jumble of socks, rumpled robes, and toiletries lay on top where they hadn't been that morning. And right in the middle, obviously placed there deliberately, lay the Dungbombs and the packet of Instant Darkness powder that Uncle George had given him for Christmas.

Embarrassing as that was, Hugo quickly realized it could have been worse; the person who'd found these forbidden objects could have taken them and reported him to Braker.

Then again, maybe he had. Hugo closed his trunk lid with a sigh. As he rose and turned to leave, Gabe was still complaining about the invasion of privacy.

"I was a target, for God's sake," he fumed as he folded a set of robes and thrust them back into his trunk. "What a bunch of incompetents! They can't even tell - "

Knowing no comment was called for, Hugo made for the door, only to have to step back as the same grey-haired MLE officer who had handed out the hall passes that morning strode into the dormitory. He pointed his wand at Gabe, who blanched and began to gabble, "J-just wh-what do you think - "

Before he could utter another word, the officer, his wand still trained on Gabe's chest, growled, "Sit dow and don't move." Then he waved his wand and an eerie silence fell. Hugo could see Gabe's mouth moving but couldn't hear a thing. He recognized the Muffliato spell, which was quite popular with his Weasley cousins. The next moment Hugo, too, was surrounded by a bubble of silence, face to face with the officer.

"Now, then," said the wizard. "Cooperate, and this won't take long."

He withdrew a notebook and quill from his pocket. If Hugo thought the man's questions were going to be confined to what he'd seen and heard that morning at breakfast, he soon learned otherwise. After a few preliminaries, the MLE officer asked what Hugo knew about threats to Muggles since the beginning of the school year.

Stunned, Hugo felt his heart race. How could this man know about the notes - or did he? How could he have known . . . . Then Hugo remembered. He'd told his mum about them at Christmas. Would she have turned around and mentioned the incidents to her colleagues? The thought made him feel even worse than he already did. He stood there mute, his mind spinning.

"Well?" The officer's impatient prompt loosened Hugo's tongue at last, and he found himself babbling about the notes, Mike's fall, Malcolm Charlmers' "accident," and every other odd incident involving a Muggle-born that he could think of. The only thing he left out was any mention of his and Lucia's amateur detecting. All in all, the interview took far longer than Hugo had expected, and the questions themselves made him squirm.

"Do you mean to tell me," the officer demanded at one point, "that you didn't go to your head of house when you learned of Miss Lawrence's note?"

"B-but," Hugo stammered, "I did talk to Professor Longbottom."

The officer went on as if Hugo hadn't spoken. "And you tried to discover the identity of the writer yourself, again without consulting a teacher or the headmistress?" His mouth twisted, whether in disbelief or in disgust, Hugo couldn't tell.

Again, Hugo struggled to think why he'd been so foolish.

Then the man held out three very familiar-looking pieces of parchment. "Perhaps you can tell me, Mr. Weasley, just why you had these in your possession?"

Hugo tried to explain, hoping against hope that the steely-eyed officer would believe what to his own ears sounded impossibly lame.

As the questions went on, he experienced a growing sense of shame and even guilt, almost as though he himself were the criminal. Well, very likely his stupidity had made it easier for the threats to escalate into an outright attack.

At last he was released, drained and not at all sorry to see Gabe face-to- face with the interrogator. He returned to the common room, where the first years who weren't still being questioned sat together, looking uncharacteristically serious.

"All right, Hugo?" Trevor asked at the sight of his friend's unsmiling face. He looked none too happy himself.

"Yeah, you?" Hugo really didn't feel like going into detail about what had taken place in the dormitory; he just wanted to forget about the whole experience. Fortunately, no one pressed him, nor did anyone else seem eager to talk about the investigation.

Hugo gazed around the common room in an attempt to distract himself, but it was no use. Suddenly he felt the walls closing in and was filled with a desperate desire to be somewhere, anywhere else. He was halfway out of his chair when someone called his name.

"Hugo?" He stopped and turned around to see Sarah Soloway behind him, looking concerned.

"Everything go okay in there?" she asked.

Hugo shrugged. "Sure. Have they questioned you yet?"

"Oh, yeah," she replied with a wry grin. "That bubble thing is pretty clever, isn't it?. Can't wait to learn the spell." She sounded almost admiring of MLE, and Hugo impulsively asked, "Ever thought of law enforcement as a career?"

Sarah looked taken aback for a moment, then chuckled. "You never know."

Before Hugo could say anything, a voice that carried halfway across the common room drew their attention, and they turned to see Gabe flopping disgustedly into a chair beside Sukie Lawrence.

"Moron!" he groused. "You'd think I was a suspect, the way he grilled me, just because I'm not dumb enough to fall for a stupid trick like a phony Valentine!"

"I don't think they can arrest you for not eating candy," Sarah said to Hugo under her breath, which made him laugh.

When he stopped, Sarah asked, "Were you going somewhere? I don't think -"

"I know," Hugo sighed. "No, I just wanted to stretch a bit. I'll see you later; I have some reading to catch up on."

Having remembered his mother's letter, Hugo sought out a comfortable chair in a quiet corner, unrolled the long piece of parchment, and began to read.

Hugo, darling, I'm sorry to have taken so long to look into the Vector girl's family, as you asked me to, but it took quite some time to track down Claudia's mother.

First, though, let me answer your question about the Room of Requirement - though I'm not quite sure why Rosie or one of your cousins hasn't told you all about it by now.

The letter then gave a detailed account of the Room's location and precise directions about how to get it to arrange itself to suit one's needs.

The Room was terribly damaged during the war, though, and I'm not sure what sort of condition it's in at the moment. I don't blame you for being curious, but do be careful, won't you? And take someone with you - Rosie, perhaps - just in case.

Back to the Vector mystery. I've probably mentioned that the Ministry keeps files for every witch and wizard in Britain. You'd normally find records of birth, marriage, and death, academic records, a current address, even relevant clippings from the Daily Prophet. When I didn't find anything for Vector, I did some spells to retrieve it in case it had been misplaced, with no luck. I can only conclude that somehow - and for some reason - Professor Vector managed to removed his family's records before he disappeared. Believe, it wouldn't have been easy, but then the Ministry was rather in chaos in the aftermath of the final battle. Claudia's name did turn up on a list of students entering Hogwarts last fall, but the list doesn't give parents' names or place of residence.

It's all very mysterious, but I couldn't bear to just give up.

Hugo smiled at that: When had Hermione Granger ever given up? Then he sighed. Even though he'd told himself he was no longer interested in the weird Ravenclaw or her disappearing dad, he couldn't help feeling let down. It was just one more dead end in a seemingly endless series. After a moment, he took up the parchment again and began where he'd left off.

After talking with Andromeda again, I thought I might try tracking down Professor Vector's parents in Oxford; if nothing else, I'd have an excuse to pop in on your grandparents. I hoped the Vectors would know what had become of their son, and where to find Claudia's mother. Unfortunately, it seems the elder Vectors - he is a retired classics don - have moved away and none of their neighbors seemed to know where they'd gone. Your grandparents send their love, though.

Finally, I thought of contacting the journal that published Professor Vector's last article before he went missing, and luckily they did have an residence listed for him, just the name Withering and nothing more. The editor said he hadn't herd a word from Professor Vector and had no idea if he still lived there.

The place isn't exactly unplottable, but I had an awful time trying to get a location, never mind getting there. I won't bore you with the details, as you'll be wanting to know what I found.

In spite of himself, Hugo felt his heart beat a little faster as he read. The disappearance of Professor Vector didn't really matter to anyone except the man's family and maybe friends - if he had any. Still, it was a mystery, which meant that it cried out to be solved.

The name may sound impressive, but Withering is little more than a heap of grey stones on a tiny rock pile of an island near the Orkneys. I wouldn't have recognize it as a dwelling at all except for a few minuscule windows and a tiny curl of smoke from a chimney. It took a surprising amount of wandwork to get through the wards, but a door finally appeared. It took another age for someone to answer my knock. Finally, after I'd stood there freezing for twenty minutes a woman - Claudia's mother, it turned out - did open up and I more or less invited myself in.

Hugo grinned; he could just imagine the scenario.

I must say, the inside of the house (hovel, more like) is every bit as depressing as the outside. No wonder the poor girl has a sour disposition, growing up in such a place. There was a small fire in the grate, but I was glad for my heavy cloak, as it was very cold and there was nothing - no pictures, no decorations, only a few pieces of shabby furniture and a faded old rug - to make the place seem cozier. Granted, Hogwarts can be chilly, but it must seem like heaven to the poor girl.

The woman was alone, and I didn't see any signs that Professor Vector might be living there. She looked to be in her forties, tallish, with greying hair and the strangest pale eyes. Her face was thin to the point of emaciation, though it was hard to tell about the rest of her, as she'd wrapped herself in what looked to be a whole trunkful of shawls. (Not surprising, considering the temperature.) I hoped she would invite me to sit down and have a nice hot cup of tea, but no such luck.

So I stood there in what passed for a foyer and told her I was from the Ministry (true enough) and that we needed to know whether she wished to have her husband declared dead, as it had been more than twelve years since he deserted her. Well, I tried to put it tactfully, and I hastened to add that we were asking because she was eligible for a widow's pension.

That sounds harsh, I know, but it did the trick. She didn't like my using the word "deserted" one bit and insisted that her husband was not dead and that it wasn't anyone's business but her own where he was, though when pressed, she couldn't deny that he wasn't in residence.

She looked angry enough to hex me, so I took a different tack, smiled and apologized for the intrusion, then told her my son at Hogwarts often talked about how clever her Claudia was.

Hugo snorted at that. His mum didn't seem to mind stretching the truth in the course of an investigation, much as she harped on the importance of honesty. He had to admire her ability to think on her feet, though.

That turned out to be the right move, the letter went on. She softened just a bit and volunteered that yes, her daughter was quite precocious and that she was fortunate to have had lessons at the home of a cousin whom, I gathered, comes from a family of some means. She wouldn't say who they were. I asked (gently) about the professor, but all she would say was that she had no idea where her husband might have gone or why he had left. Then she got huffy again and repeated that he wasn't dead and that I could take my widow's pension and - well, you get the idea.

I can't say it was one of my more successful interviews. Perhaps sitting behind a desk all day has made me rusty. That said, I haven't forgotten how to read people, and I would swear on my copy of Hogwarts: A History that she knows a great deal more than she was willing to say. If I find out anything more, I'll let you know.

The rest of the letter, contained family news - nothing about the morning's events, but of course it had to have been written before all hell broke loose.

Hugo stuffed the letter into his pocket and rejoined his friends. He hoped he'd see Lucia soon, and that she wouldn't be too disappointed his mum had been able to find out so little. At least the glimpse into Claudia's home life might give her a little more sympathy for her fellow Ravenclaw.

Having no more homework to finish, Hugo spent the rest of the afternoon playing wizard chess, beating Robbie Macmillan handily after getting trounced by Trevor a couple of times.

As Robbie stuffed his infuriated queen back into the box, Hugo glanced up to see what a commotion near the door was all about. A rather pale-looking boy had just entered and was now surrounded by his Hufflepuff classmates, all talking at once.

Clapping and cheers accompanied the boy as he made his way to a seat, still surrounded. It wasn't until he spotted Malcolm Chalmers in the group that Hugo figured out that the boy must be the fourth year who'd landed in the hospital wing that morning. Evidently, he hadn't eaten enough of the candy to become too seriously ill.

Maybe things were looking up.

ooOoo

"David!" Mike leaped up from her chair, letting her Defense textbook crash to the floor as she rushed to meet her classmate at the common room door. A couple of the boys joined her, but Lucia held back, not wanting to overwhelm the frail-looking boy as he allowed Mike to engulf him in a fierce hug.

"She's going to send him right back to the hospital wing," Amanda grunted by her side. "That boy does not look well enough to be let out. You don't think he escaped Madam Pomfrey, do you?"

Lucia had to smile at that. It was hard to imagine anyone eluding the matron's eagle eye.

"Oh," Ruth chimed in with a little shake of her head, "I don't think he'd leave without permission. I'm just glad he's better."

As the other first years watched, Mike took David in tow and tugged him along to a couple of vacant chairs on the opposite side of the room. They soon had their heads together in animated conversation.

The other first years looked at each other, confused.

"What's that all about?" Galen Bolt muttered, sounding rather resentful. Having recovered from her a initial surprise, Lucia wondered if Mike was telling David about the meeting with Professor Flitwick. As she watched, Olivia Chin soon joined the Muggle-born pair, and a few others gathered around. David looked pleased at all the attention, though still a bit pale.

"Well!" Amanda huffed. "I guess we know where we stand. Purebloods not good enough for them, I guess."

Lucia's mouth tightened. She wouldn't have put it just that way, but Mike's behavior was worrisome all the same.

ooOoo

Several staff members, including the headmistress, appeared at the head table well after the evening meal had commenced, and they continued to confer in low tones throughout dinner. Just as platters were being cleared to make room for sweets, a flurry of owls appeared, prompting startled looks and exclamations from the students.

"What's going on?" Ruth asked, sounding a bit anxious. The odd sight caused Lucia to forget all about the lemon tart she'd been about to take, and the platter slowly swirled off down the table. "We only get the post at breakfast."

An owl landed near enough for Lucia to make out what it was carrying. Her heart sank.

"I think it's a special edition of the Daily Prophet, she said slowly, rather glad she did not subscribe to the wizarding newspaper, though she'd seen plenty of copies at home and remember Scorpius' saying he might subscribe this year. She turned to see if he'd received a paper, but he wasn't at the Slytherin table, though his friends were. Gordon Pucey was scowling at his own copy of the paper.

The noise level rose as more students received their copies and read the coverage of that morning's attack. While Amanda tried to snatch Andy Banion's copy out of his hands before he could finish reading it, Lucia decided she really didn't want to see the screaming headlines or the front-page story. She's seen enough issues to guess that the article would be long on sensation and short on facts.

Torn between wanting to wait for announcements and a sudden keen desire to escape the Great Hall, Lucia lingered a moment before making her way to the door, only to be halted there by an MLE officer with spiky red hair and brows and lashes so pale they were nearly invisible.

"Miss Malfoy?" the witch asked, planting herself squarely in front of Lucia. "Come with me, please. The headmistress wants a word with you." She turned and began to stride off, obviously expecting Lucia to follow.

Confused, Lucia found she could only stammer, "But . . . Professor Sinistra is still . . . "

The officer turned, her severe expression worrying Lucia even more than her brusque words. She racked her brain to think of what she'd done wrong.

"You're to wait for her. Don't waste my time; I've been here all day and I'm in no mood for nonsense."

The officer wasn't especially tall, but she moved with a swiftness that forced Lucia to lope after her across the entrance hall, which was nearly empty at the moment.

So focused was Lucia on keeping up that she failed to notice the small group of people descending the stairs until they were nearly on top of her. When she did see them, she stopped dead with a gasp of surprise.

"Mother! What are you doing here?" she cried, starting toward the stately woman in well-tailored dark robes. Even in the dim light, Lucia could tell that Astoria Malfoy's face was ashen, her posture rigidly upright as a statue's.

Lucia was just about to rush forward and fling herself into her mother's arms when she got a good look at the three people with Astoria. One of them was Scorpius, each arm firmly in the grip of an MLE officer. His face was contorted with fury, his eyes flashing defiance - though Lucia thought she detected just a trace of fear in them as well. Before she could utter a word, the officers hustled Scorpius toward the door. Astoria hesitated only a moment before starting after them, pausing to cast a regretful backward glance at her daughter.

"I'm so so sorry, darling, but I must . . . . Don't worry . . . . " And then she hurried after her son as Lucia stood there open-mouthed.