As the Cadets assembled themselves in the main hall, Poirot was outside comforting Luna.

"Je suis trés désolé, madamoiselle," he said, as Luna cried on his shoulder.

"He was," Luna sobbed, "going to propose!"

Poirot, thankfully, didn't remark on the ridiculousness of proposing in such a short time. Luna and Christopher were in love, and Hercule had noticed people did odd things when in love.

"Luna," Sarah Craine stepped away from her four friends sympathetically. "It's time to go in."

Luna nodded, wiping her eyes, and escaped from Poirot into Sarah's arms.

"Oh dear," Richard mumbled. "I feel bad for laughing, now."

Mike Walsh nodded somberly, patting him on the back.

"It's okay," he said, when in fact it wasn't okay. Far from it, if the expression on Luna's sad face was anything to go by.

"We are gathered here today ..." An elder boy, who would've been around Christopher's and Alex Roberts' age, spoke quietly to the Cadets before him. His name was Andrew Davies, and he had been quite fond of Christopher. Unfortunately, however, he had to face up to the fact that Christopher Kennedy was never coming back. "... To express our sadness at the death of Sergeant Christopher Kennedy. He, along with other Cadets, has been treacherously murdered in the past few weeks. Now, let us take a moment to reflect on these departed people. They were friends here, and dedicated Cadets, and not one of them will go unremembered. Polly Pattinson. Lorraine Bhebhe. Michael Szup - er, not Michael Szuplewski. Dom Hughes. And now, Christopher Kennedy."

A few girls started crying hysterically.

"I know these are troubled times," Andrew Davies continued, speaking louder over the wailing, "but we must stand together as one. United, in the face of misery, that is the only way to battle with the situation. We do not know who is causing all of this grief, but believe me when I say this – we will find out. Together, Cadets, together." He stepped down from the stage, motioning for Greg and Will to take his place.

Even Poirot was wiping his eyes now.

"So," Greg Knight was at a loss of what to say. Will Carter took over.

"Look," he said, with the air of one who had much better things to do, "Andrew asked us to say a few words about Christopher, and we declined."

Abbie and George started sniggering.

"Then he asked us to talk about Dom, and again we decided not to. We didn't know these two guys very well, but we did know Polly and Lorraine." Greg cleared his throat importantly. "Like Davies said, these are troubled times."

Andrew Davies now looked like he was having serious doubts about letting the two Cadets onto the stage.

"But seriously," Will said, rolling his eyes. "GET OVER YOURSELVES ALREADY!"

Everyone - including Greg - stared at him with utter shock. The entire hall was silent.

"Oops," Will mumbled. "Perhaps I shouldn't have said that."

"No," Andrew snarled at him, stomping towards the two boys furiously. "You shouldn't have. Now GET OFF MY STAGE!"

Reclaiming the Cadets' attention, Andrew turned to Luna Lovegood.

"Miss Lovegood," he said quietly, "you will always be welcome here, no matter what others may say," he glared pointedly at Will Carter, "and I'd like you to know that if you ever need a shoulder to cry on -" Richard Lean looked ready to hit Andrew. "- I'm here. You were a good friend of Christopher's, and a friend of his is a friend of mine."

Luna stared at the floor. George and Abbie, however, smirked knowingly. Sarah Craine glared at them.

"And Mr Poirot," (everyone stared at Hercule Poirot, who was crying freely into a handkerchief. George laughed.) "You'll also be welcome here. That is assuming, of course, you solve this mystery before another one takes place."

Poirot nodded gravely, ignoring George Clark.

"FINALLY!" Ben #1 yelled, as his friend dodged a particularly dangerous looking piece of grass to reach him.

Ben #2 scowled. If it weren't for Poirot's orders, he and Ben #1 would never be on this stupid expedition. Not that he didn't like Hercule, it was just that he had better things to do on a hot afternoon than hike over various geographical features.

"You know," Ben #2 panted, falling thankfully onto the grass. "You're not being very helpful, Ben."

Ben #1 gave him an impish grin, but said nothing.

The Cadets filed out of the hall slowly, most of them depressed. George and Abbie were still laughing; and Will Carter was fuming over being thrown off the stage. Richard and Sarah, however, had stayed behind with Luna Lovegood. Richard was sitting on a stray table by the wall, and Sarah was giving Luna a comforting hug.

Hercule Poirot, once outside in the bright sunshine, turned to Matt Cullen immediately.

"Matthew!" he barked extremely loudly, claiming a lot of attention from other teary Cadets. Matt Cullen glanced around in embarrassment. Big mistake.

"Don't avoid my eye, boy!" Poirot had decided to try out a few English phrases, and it didn't suit him. "I've been wandering around lately and you, boy, have been chillin' on your own!"

Matt wished Poirot would stop calling him 'boy', and hoped he would never have to hear Poirot use rubbish slang again. EVER.

"Um," Matt Cullen stalled, acutely aware of George and Abbie's smirks.

"Yo, homie ..." Good grief. It was getting worse. "I woz readin' -" Matt wished the ground would swallow him up. Preferably as soon as possible. " - an awesomez piece of shizz, y'all, about -"

Thankfully, Matt was saved from hearing what Poirot was "readin'" by a sharp interruption from Andrew Davies.

"Yo, wazzup, homie?"

"Mr Poirot," Andrew firmly ignored Poirot's wannabe-gangster remark. "I need to have A Word with you."

"Luna, it's okay," Sarah said, glaring at Richard, who had not yet said anything constructive.

Luna shrugged serenely, wiping her eyes.

"Well ... I suppose I'll get over it ..."

"Wow," Richard muttered bitterly. "That was quick."

Sarah scowled at him.

"Anyway ..." Luna smiled at Sarah, "I think I've found someone else now, anyway ..."

Richard Lean looked up hopefully.

"Oooh!" Sarah sarah sat up properly, paying extreme attention. "Who?!"

"Alright, Michael," Alex Roberts had had enough. "You -"

"Look!" Michael Szuplewski pointed to the sky excitedly. Alex looked up. He couldn't see anything but clouds.

"Michael, I can't see anything but cl -"

"No! There!"

Ah, now Alex could see something. Something that looked suspiciously like an owl bearing a letter, in fact. It circled their heads before perching lightly on Alex's shoulder. Alex Roberts untied the note, which was a lot trickier than Harry Potter said it was.

"'Dear Alex,'" Michael read aloud, snatching the paper from him. "'I don't know where you are, but something drastic has happened. Please rejoin the Cadets for the funeral of Sergeant Christopher Kennedy. Signed, Andrew Davies.'"

Michael raised his eyebrows, but Alex was stunned.

"Oh for crying out loud," Michael rolled his eyes. "It's only Christopher Kennedy."

Something inside of Alex snapped. Picking up his bag, and flatly refusing to look at Michael Szuplewski, he started racing away towards the general direction of Calday.

Michael sighed wearily. He'd done what he could do.