Chapter 13
The Bribe
KIARA
If Kleaner could escape a lake full of Inferi, I was confident that the capture of Mona would take a few hours at most, and I prowled the house all morning in a state of high anticipation. However, Kleaner did not return that morning, or even that afternoon. As something to do, I asked for Chrissie to send a message to Sian, asking her to try and bring her father with her whenever she would be coming to join us, to which Sian replied that she would do all she could to get him to come with her. I felt slightly encouraged by this news, but by nightfall I felt discouraged and anxious, for Kleaner had still not come back, and a supper composed largely of mouldy bread, upon which Chris had tried a variety of unsuccessful Transfigurations, did nothing to help.
Kleaner did not return the following day, nor the day after that, and we saw no sign of Sian or her father, either. However, two cloaked women had appeared in the forest outside Warts House, and they remained there into the night, gazing in the direction of the house that they could not see.
"Love Destroyers, for sure," said Chrissie, as she, Chris and I watched from the drawing room windows. "Reckon they know we're in here?"
"I don't think so," said Chris, though he looked frightened, "or they'd have sent Triphorm in after us, wouldn't they?"
"D'you reckon she's been in here and had her tongue tied by Grumpy's curse?" asked Chrissie.
"Yes," said Chris, "otherwise she'd have been able to tell that lot how to get in, wouldn't she? But they're probably watching to see whether we turn up. They know that Kiara and her family owns this house, after all."
"How do they - ?" I began.
"Wizarding wills are examined by the Ministry, remember? They'll know Pumbaa left you the place."
The presence of the Love Destroyers outside increased the ominous mood inside Warts House, as did the loss of Sian's presence inside it. We were so used to her presence that it was odd not seeing our master planner next to us all the time, and we had not heard a word from her since the day Kleaner went to find Mona Fetch, and the strain was starting to tell. Restless and irritable, Chrissie had developed an annoying habit of playing with the Deluminator in her pocket: this particularly infuriated Chris, who was whiling away the wait for Kleaner by carving wood and did not appreciate the way the lights kept flashing on and off.
"Will you stop doing that!" he cried on the third evening of Kleaner's absence, as all light was sucked from the drawing room yet again.
"Sorry, sorry!" said Chrissie, clicking the Deluminator and restoring the lights. "I don't know I'm doing it!"
"Well, can't you find something useful to occupy yourself?"
"What, like creating fancy pieces from wood and leaving splinters everywhere? Is that what you call useful?"
"It's far more useful than what you're doing!"
"Ma left me this, so maybe I'm supposed to use it!"
Unable to stand the bickering, I slipped out of the room unnoticed by either of them. I headed downstairs towards the kitchen, which I kept visiting because I was sure that was where Kleaner was most likely to reappear. Halfway down the flight of stairs into the hall, however, I heard a tap on the front door, then metallic clicks and the grinding of the chain.
Every nerve in my body seemed to tauten: I pulled out my wand, moved into the shadows beside the decapitated elf-heads and waited. The door opened: I saw a glimpse of the dark wood outside, and three cloaked figures edged into the hall and the latter closed the door behind them. The intruders all took a step forwards and Grumpy's voice asked, "Tiana Triphorm?" Then the dust figure rose from the end of the hall and rushed at them, raising it's dead hand; one of them, a girl, screamed at the sight.
"None of us killed you, Susan," said a quiet voice.
The jinx broke: the dust figure exploded again, and it was impossible for us to make out the newcomers through the dense grey cloud it left behind.
I pointed my wand into the middle of it.
"Don't move!"
I had forgotten the portrait of Mrs Warts; at the sound of my yell, the curtains hiding her flew open and she began to scream, "Mudbloods, Sackbrains and filth dishonouring my house - "
Chris and Chrissie came crashing down the stairs behind me, wands pointing, like mine, at the unknown people, two of whom were standing with their arms raised, in the hall below.
"Hold your fire, it's me, Timon, with Matt and Sian."
"Oh, thank God," said Chris weakly, pointing his wand at Mrs Warts instead; with a bang, the curtains swished shut again and silence fell. Chrissie, too, lowered her wand, but I did not, and before Chris and Chrissie could rush downstairs to greet the newcomers, I threw out my free arm to stop them.
"Show yourself!" I called back.
Meers and Mr Dawson moved into the lamplight, hands still held high in a gesture of surrender, as Sian remained where she was, frozen.
"I am Timon Rowan Meers, werewolf, sometimes known as Moonshine, one of the four creators of the Scallywag's Map, married to Nana, usually known as Todd, and I bring with me Sian Dawson, the Eldest Dawson Girl, and Matthew Dawson, Sian, Chrissie and Chris' father and widower of Susan Crighton, their mother. I taught you how to produce a Patronus, Kiara, which takes the form of a lioness."
"Oh, all right," I said, "lowering my wand, "but I had to check, didn't I?"
"Speaking as your ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I quite agree that you had to check. Chris, Chrissie, you shouldn't be quite so quick to lower your defences."
We were then distracted by a shuddering sob, and we didn't have to look far to see where it came from: Sian, who had not moved since the dust figure had shown itself, was sobbing shakily. Mr Dawson enveloped her in his arms, as Chris, Chrissie and I dashed down the stairs to where Meers was stood.
"I think the dust figure of her mother shocked Sian," Meers whispered to us. Chris, Chrissie and I turned to Sian, and from the little of her face that we could see looked traumatised, and I knew why: the shock and grief from losing her mother came back tenfold. She must have realised that we were there watching her, for she quickly turned her face away. Understanding that she needed to be alone with her father, I quickly took action.
"We'll be down in the kitchen when you're ready to join us."
Mr Dawson nodded his head and smiled in gratitude, before he focused on Sian, and Meers, Chris, Chrissie and I headed to the kitchen.
We only had to wait five minutes for Sian and Mr Dawson to join us; Sian still had fresh tear tracks on her cheeks and her eyes were red and swollen, but other than that there were no signs that she had recently been upset, for she seemed calmer and even had a smile for us. Chris, Chrissie and I received a hug from her and Mr Dawson before we all sat around the table. Meers pulled a few Butterbeers from beneath his travelling cloak and handed them to each of us.
"So, no sign of Tiana, then?" he asked.
"No," I said. "What's going on? Is everyone OK?"
"Yes," said Meers, "but we're all being watched. There were a couple of Love Destroyers out there - "
"What do you mean, 'were'?" I asked curiously.
"We Confunded them before sending them on their way," Mr Dawson answered. "I'm glad they didn't know that you're here, though, or this whole place would be swarming with them by now; they're staking out everywhere that's got any connection with you, Kiara. And I have to warn you now," he continued, speaking directly to me and lowering his voice as he spoke, "that you must stop saying She-You-Know's name now."
"Why? What's so wrong with saying Z- ?" I said, but Sian, Mr Dawson and Meers all silenced me.
"The name's been jinxed," Mr Dawson explained. "Ministry's doing - most likely under She-You-Know's orders. As soon as someone says the name, the Love Destroyers arrive instantly, breaking all enchantments, but I think the reason this place hasn't been ransacked yet is because it's under the Fidelius Charm, but the sooner you break the habit, the better."
"So that's how those Love Destroyers found us the night of the wedding when we were in that all-night café!" Chrissie blurted out without thinking.
At Chrissie's words, Mr Dawson choked on his Butterbeer and Meers slopped most of his own down his front. Sian, however, slammed her bottle down on the table, which made all of us look at her; Sian's eyes were wide and unblinking, her nostrils and her chest heaving heavily.
"What?" she thundered, making us all flinch.
"Yeah, they ... um ... they found us just after we said the name," Chrissie stammered uneasily.
"So ... let me get this straight," said Sian slowly, "we're hearing that you three got almost killed by Love Destroyers now, when you could have texted me later that night to call you, for it was urgent news, or else tell me what happened when I called you the day after the wedding. Why didn't you, Chrissie? Why?"
"Well, I ... I didn't think it was important - "
"Not important?" Sian screamed. "Chrissie, you three could have died that night, and our family and Kiara's would have been none the wiser. Do you have any idea of what that would do to us, especially after Ma?"
Sian said nothing after that, choosing instead to glare at us in turn in stony, disapproving silence. Chrissie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and Chris and I looked at each other. How could we have been so foolish as to not tell Sian? But more than that: how could we have forgotten to tell Sian what happened in the first place?
"Sian ... we're sorry - " said Chrissie desperately.
"So you should be!" Sian snapped. "I expected so much more than this from the three of you ..." Then Sian sighed deeply, and added in a softer tone, "But I'm glad you're all safe, more than anything else."
Chris and I raised our heads and Chrissie smiled slightly. I then asked Sian, Mr Dawson and Meers, "So, what took you so long to get here, anyway?"
"Well, like I said before," said Meers, "we're being followed, so we had to tread carefully. Fortunately, Sian was able to ensure that we could get here without attracting the Love Destroyers' attention."
"Really, how?" I asked.
"Well, you know when you come in through the hallway at the Manor, and you see the rug on the floor?" Sian asked. I nodded, and she continued, "Well, under that rug lies a trap door, down which lies a tunnel that leads to an underground bunker, equipped with beds and food, and beyond that the tunnel continues to an old mill, which lies ten miles beyond the Manor, and which none of the Love Destroyers know anything about."
"Wow, that's amazing!"
"Why, thank you, Kiara," said Sian. "My parents had it made in case we ever needed to make a quick getaway. We also hid your parents down there after you, Chris and Chrissie left. They're safe, don't worry, but unfortunately they have to keep drinking Polyjuice Potion (I had to leave a couple of vials behind for them), and Tanya and Geri had to get more hairs for them. They're not too happy about the predicament they're under, but they understand."
"I've also spoken to Arachne Beadu and told her what had happened," Mr Dawson said. "Fortunately, she agreed to help Simba and Nala, and already has some Polyjuice Potion brewing, until I give her word to stop so that I can move everyone to a safer location."
"You don't plan staying at the Manor?" Chris asked.
"Not forever," Mr Dawson sighed. "For now, it'll keep, but I need some place safer to keep my family for as long as this war goes on. I've asked around, and Elizabeth, stubborn as she is, has said that she has toom for us when we're ready, but would like to be warned first."
"I can't imagine why," I said, and everyone laughed. After the laughter died down, I said, "Tell us what happened after we left, we haven't heard a thing since you, Sian, told us that everything was fine."
"Well, Kara saved us," said Meers. "Thanks to her warning, and the Cloaking Charm surrounding Dawson Manor, many of the wedding guests were able to Disapparate before they arrived."
"Were they Love Destroyers or Ministry people?" interjected Chris.
"A mixture, but to all intents and purposes they're the same thing now," said Meers. "There were about a dozen of them, but they didn't know you or your parents were there, Kiara. Matt heard a rumour that She-You-Know personally tried to torture your whereabouts out of Scrimwazz before she killed her; if it's true, she didn't give you away."
I looked at Chris and Chrissie; their expressions reflected the mingled shock and gratitude I felt. I had never liked Scrimwazz much, but if what Meers said was true, the woman's final act had been to try to protect me and my family.
"The Love Destroyers searched the Manor from top to bottom," said Mr Dawson. "They found the A.I., but didn't want to get too close - and then they interrogated those of us who remained for hours. They were trying to get information on you and your family, Kiara, but, of course, nobody apart from the Order knew that you had been there.
"At the same time that they were smashing up the wedding, more Love Destroyers were forcing their way into every Order-connected house in the country. No deaths," he added quickly, forestalling the question, "but they were rough. They burned down Delilah Doddle's house, but as you know she wasn't there, and they used the Cruciatus Curse on Todd's family. Again, trying to find out where you went after you visited them. They're all right - shaken, obviously, but otherwise OK."
I noticed Meers' grip on his Butterbeer bottle tightened at Mr Dawson's last words as his hand was shaking violently. I then turned to Mr Dawson and, remembering how effective the protective enchantments had been on the night I had crashed in Todd's parents' garden, I asked him, "And the Love Destroyers got through all those protective charms?"
"What you've got to realise, Kiara, is that the Love Destroyers have got the full might of the Ministry on their side now," said Mr Dawson. "They've got the power to perform brutal spells without fear of identification or arrest. They managed to penetrate every defensive spell we'd cast against them, and once inside, they were completely open about why they'd come."
"And are they bothering to give an excuse for torturing Kiara and her family's whereabouts out of people?" asked Chris, an edge to his voice.
"Well," said Meers. He hesitated and turned to Mr Dawson, who shrugged and gave him a look that said "just show her". So Meers then had no choice but to pull out a folded copy of the Daily Squabbler.
"Here," he said, pushing it across the table to me, "you'll know sooner or later anyway. That's their pretext for going after you."
I smoothed out the paper. A large photograph of my own face filled the front page. I read the headline over it:
WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF SUSAN CRIGHTON
Chris and Chrissie gave roars of outrage, but I said nothing. I pushed the newspaper away; I did not want to read any more: I knew what it would say. Nobody but those who had been on top of the tower when Crighton died knew who had really killed her and, as Peter Meter had already told the wizarding world, I had been seen running from the place moment after Crighton had fallen. Besides, I knew of another reason why the Squabbler had printed this.
"They think it'll make me come running, don't they?" I said. "And that when they find me, I'll tell them where my parents or, or they'll come running to my aid, won't they?"
"That is what the Love Destroyers intend how you, Simba and Nala will think, yes," said Mr Dawson solemnly.
"We're sorry, kid," said Meers.
"So Love Destroyers have taken over the Daily Squabbler too?" asked Chris furiously.
Meers nodded.
"But surely people realise what's going on?"
"The coup has been smooth and virtually silent," said Meers. "The official version of Scrimwazz's murder is that she resigned; she has been replaced by Prudence Thicko, who is under the Imperius Curse."
"Why didn't She-You-Know declare herself Minister for Magic?" asked Chrissie.
Sian, Mr Dawson and Meers all laughed.
"Chrissie, the reality of the situation is that she is Minister for Magic," said Sian. "But she doesn't want people to know, which is precisely why she has her puppet, Thicko, taking care of everyday matters, while the Evil Scary Lady goes off to do ... well, whatever the hell it is that she wants to."
"Exactly," said Mr Dawson. "Naturally, though, people have deduced what has happened: there has been such a dramatic change in Ministry policy in the last few days, and many are whispering that She-You-Know must be behind it. However, that is the point: they whisper. They daren't confide in each other, not knowing whom to trust; they are scared to speak out, in case their suspicions are true and their families are targeted. Yes, She-You-Know is playing a very clever game. Declaring herself might have provoked open rebellion: remaining masked has created confusion, uncertainty and fear."
"And this dramatic change in Ministry policy," I said, "involves warning the wizarding world against me instead of Z - She-You-Know?"
"That's certainly part of it," said Meers," and it is a masterstroke. Now that Crighton is dead, you - the Girl Who Lived - along with your parents were sure to be the rallying point for any resistance to She-You-Know. But by suggesting that you had a hand in the old hero's death, She-You-Know has not only set a price upon your head, but sown doubt and fear amongst many who would have supported you."
"Meanwhile," sighed Mr Dawson, "things aren't looking good for Muggle-borns and bright-brains."
"How so, Dad?" asked Chrissie.
"Because the Ministry has started turning against them. From what I've heard, Muggle-borns are being suspected of stealing magic, and the bright-brains are suspected of possessing knowledge that the rest of us don't know about, so the Ministry's summoning all the Muggle-borns and bright-brains to trial, where the Muggle-borns have to prove that they have at least one wizarding ancestor, or else the Ministry will believe that they have stolen magic by force; and as for the bright-brains, the Ministry wants to examine their minds, and if they resist, the Ministry will take what they want by force. Either way, if both parties are found guilty, they will face severe consequences. Poor Hermione ..." finished Mr Dawson, shaking his head sadly.
"This is insane!" said Chris furiously.
"People won't let this happen," said Chrissie.
"It is happening, Chrissie," said Meers. "Muggle-borns and bright-brains are being rounded up as we speak."
"But how are Muggle-borns supposed to have 'stolen' magic, and bright-brains 'possess knowledge the rest of us don't know about'?" said Chrissie. "It's mental, if you could steal magic there wouldn't be any Squibs, would there? And bright-brains are just more intelligent in general; they have power that creates space in their minds for more material, and therefore help the rest of us understand things better. It's ridiculous to even think such things, never mind suggesting them!"
"I know," said Meers. "Nevertheless, unless you can prove that you have at least one close wizarding relative, or else that you are quite dim-witted, you are now deemed to have obtained your magical power illegally, and copied what you know from every subject in the study, and must suffer the punishment."
Chrissie then glanced at Sian, then said, "What if we could hide Sian? Protect her from all this?"
Sian smiled at Chrissie.
"As grateful as I am for your suggestion, you sweet, simple, dim-witted fool, I'm afraid to say that hiding me will not work, for you are missing one teeny-weensy, tiny little detail here."
"And what's that?"
"That you, me and Chris are friends of Kiara, who we just happen to be on the run with, and is one of the most wanted witches in the country, so hiding won't help me now. If I were going back to Dragon Mort, however, it would be different. And speaking of Dragon Mort, what is the Evil Scary Lady planning for the school?" she asked her father.
"Attendance is now compulsory for every young witch and wizard," he replied. "That was announced yesterday. It's a change, because it was never obligatory before. Of course, nearly every witch or wizard in Britain has been educated at either Dragon Mort or Hogwarts, but their parents had the right to teach them at home or send them abroad if they preferred. This way, Zira will have the whole wizarding population under her eye from a young age. And it's also another way of weeding out Muggle-borns and bright-brains, because students must be given Blood and Mind Status - meaning that they have proven to the Ministry that they are of wizard descent and are not exceptionally bright - before they are allowed to attend." Mr Dawson paused, put his head in his hands, and said, "I don't want to send any of my children back to school, but I find some comfort in knowing that Deidre and many of the other teachers there will look after them."
"Of course they will, Dad," said Sian, taking her father's hand. "I know that nowhere is safe any more, but don't forget that there are good and bad people everywhere. And if it makes you feel any better, you aren't the only one who is concerned for the rest of your children."
Mr Dawson squeezed his daughter's hand, smiled at his oldest and said, "Thanks, love." He then drew her to him and kissed her forehead.
Meanwhile, I felt sickened and angry: at this moment excited eleven-year-olds would be pouring over stacks of newly purchased spellbooks, unaware that they would never see Dragon Mort, perhaps never see their families again, either.
"It's ... it's ..." I muttered, struggling to find the words that did justice to the horror of my thoughts, but Meers said quietly, "I know."
Meers hesitated.
"I'll understand if you can't confirm this, Kiara, but the Order is under the impression that Crighton left you a mission."
"She did," I replied, "and Chris, Sian and Chrissie are in on it and they're coming with me."
"Can you confide in me what the mission is?"
I looked into the prematurely face, framed in thick but greying hair, and I so wished that I could have returned a different answer.
But I could not.
"I'm sorry, Timon, I can't. If Crighton didn't tell you or anyone else in the Order, then I don't think I can."
"I thought you'd say that," said Meers, looking disappointed. "But I might still be of some use to you. You know what I am and what I can do. I could come with you to provide protection. There would be no need to tell me exactly what you were up to."
I hesitated. It was a very tempting offer, though how we would be able to keep our mission secret from Meers if he were here with us all the time was a very difficult thing for me to imagine.
Sian, however, looked puzzled.
"What about Todd?" she asked.
"What about her?" said Meers.
"Well," said Sian, frowning, "you're married! How does she feel about you going away with us?"
"Todd will be perfectly safe," said Meers. "She'll be at her parents' house."
"and ... have you discussed this with her at all?" Sian asked hesitantly.
Meers looked uneasy as he answered. "We have. She wants me to stay with her, which is understandable, of course, but she understands why I want to help you."
I found that there was something strange in Meers' tone; it was almost cold. There was also something odd in the idea of Todd remaining hidden at her parents' house; she was, after all, a member of the Order and, as far as I know, was likely to want to be in the thick of the action.
"Timon," said Sian tentatively, "is everything all right ... you know ... between you and - "
"Everything is fine, thank you," said Meers pointedly.
Sian turned pink. There was a pause, an awkward and embarrassed one, and then Meers said, with an air of forcing himself to admit something unpleasant, "Todd is going to have a baby."
"Oh, wonderful!" squealed Sian.
"Excellent!" said Chris enthusiastically.
"Congratulations," I said.
"Sweet, man, a baby cub!" said Chrissie jubilantly. At these words, Meers' face blanched and Mr Dawson pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and shook his head. Chrissie, realising what she had just said, looked horrified with herself and said quickly, !I'm sorry, Timon, I didn't mean - "
"It's all right, no harm done," said Meers, wearing a wooden smile. Then, turning to me, he said, "So ... do you accept my offer? Will four become five? I cannot believe that Crighton would have been disappointed, she appointed me your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, after all. And I must tell you that I believe that we are facing magic many of us have never encountered or imagined."
Chris, Sian and Chrissie all looked at me.
"Just - just to be clear," I said. "You want to leave Todd at her parents' house and come away with us?"
"She'll be perfectly safe there, they'll look after her," said Meers. He spoke with a finality bordering on indifference. "Kiara, I'm sure Simba and Nala would want me to stick with you."
"Speaking of my parents," I said slowly, "did you speak with them about this before coming to see us?"
The look on Meers' face told me everything I wanted to know.
"I thought so," I said. "And tell me - tell us all, Timon - why you never spoke to my parents about this, and why you are choosing to run away from your family, being - in short - a coward?"
What little colour Meers had regained in his face in the last few minutes was suddenly trained. The temperature in the kitchen might have dropped ten degrees. Chris looked down at his hands resting on the table; Sian's eyes swivelled back and forth between Meers and I; Chrissie stared around the room as though she had been bidden to memorise it; and Mr Dawson was surveying Meers closely.
"You don't understand," said Meers at last.
"Explain, then," I said.
Meers swallowed.
"I - I made a mistake - a grave mistake - in marrying Todd. I did it against my better judgement and I have regretted it very much ever since."
"But you love her, don't you?" asked Sian. "That must count for something, at least."
"Regardless," said Meers, "don't you realise what I've done to Todd - too her and my unborn child - by marrying her?"
"I don't - " I began, but Meers cut across me.
"I've made them both outcasts, that's what I've done! You don't understand what it's like for me - none of you do! You have only ever seen me amongst the Order, or under Crighton's protection at Dragon Mort! You don't know how most of the wizarding world still sees creatures like me! Yes, when some know of my affliction, they will smile and offer me a comforting word or a kind gesture - but there are those who are still stuck in the old ways, who are disgusted and repulsed by me! Don't you see what I've done? Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage, what parents would want their only daughter to marry a werewolf? And the child - the child - "
Meers actually seized handfuls of his own hair; he looked quite deranged.
"My kind don't usually breed! It will be like me, I am convinced of it - how can I forgive myself, when I knowingly risked passing on my own condition to an innocent child? And if, by some miracle, it is not like me, then it will be better off, a hundred times so, without a father of whom it must always be ashamed!"
"Timon!" Sian whispered, shocked at what she had just heard. "Don't say that - how could any child be ashamed of you, when you have got so much more to offer."
Meers looked up at Sian then, shocked at her words. But before he could say anything, Sian pressed on.
"Yes, you're a werewolf, but that's just one part of you, Timon. There are so many other good qualities about you, qualities that you won't allow yourself to see, because you are blinded by your own self-loathing. So maybe, just maybe, it's time you learned to forgive yourself and start viewing yourself as those close to you view you, and not how you view yourself."
All of us were stunned by Sian's words, until the silence was broken by a chuckle from Mr Dawson. The rest of us turned to look at him; he gazed at Sian proudly before he turned to Meers and said, "Always trust a Dawson, Timon. We can never lead you astray, particularly the wise ones."
"Thanks, Dad," said Sian, allowing her father to draw her to him and kiss her on the crown of her head.
Sian's words gave me the confidence to speak my mind, so I said, "If you ask me, Timon, I think you're choosing the easy path over the right one if you were to come with us. But you're not. It's the easy way out. And let me ask you this: what happens if you die? And yes, Timon, I am well aware that that is the fate that awaits us all," I hurried on, before Meers could interrupt me, "but the point I'm trying to make is is that one day your child is going to ask about you, which is natural, of course, seeing as all kids ask questions about their parents - but have you ever given a thought as to what people will tell the child, hmm? How they would tell it how you abandoned the poor thing and its mother? For I think that once the child found out the truth, that only then would it be ashamed of you. I know I would be."
I could tell my words were affecting Timon: tears were in his eyes, but I had to get my point across.
"I know this is hard for you to hear, Timon, but the only way to keep improving things for your kind is to fight, not only for what you believe in, but also for what is important to you - and you've got that, Timon, sitting right in front of you, but running away from your family is not the right option. It's the cowardly one, and you are not a coward, Timon. You are a good man, who I know will do good and stand by his family. Question is, will be brave enough to do so?"
Meers rubbed his eyes and said, "I'm being a fool, I see that now." Meers and I then shared a brief smile of understanding, before his smile faded and he said, "But are you sure, Kiara, that neither Matt nor I nor anyone else can know what you, Chris, Sian and Chrissie are up to?"
I shook my head and said, "I'm sorry, Timon, but if Crighton didn't tell you herself, then I don't think we should, either. And that's all I'm going to say on the matter.
Meers nodded, and fortunately didn't ask me any more questions. We relapsed into a comfortable silence, and needing something to do I looked at the paper, drew it to me and turned a page loudly, where Crighton's name leapt out at me. It was a moment or two before I took in the meaning of the photograph, which showed a family group. Beneath the photograph were the words: The Crighton family: left to right, Susan, Johnathon, holding newborn Sean, Lillian and Sara.
My attention caught, I examined the picture more carefully. Crighton's father, Johnathon, was a good-looking man with eyes that seemed to twinkle from behind square spectacles, even in this faded old photograph. The baby, Sean, was little longer than a loaf of bread and no more distinctive-looking. The mother, Lillian, had honey-blonde hair pulled in a high bun, and despite the high-necked silk gown she wore, it did nothing to cover up the fact that she was quite short. Susan and Sara wore matching lacy dresses and had identical, shoulder-length hairstyles. Susan looked several years older, but otherwise the two girls looked very alike, for this was before Susan's nose had been broken.
The family looked quite happy and normal, smiling serenely up out of the newspaper. Baby Sean's arm waved vaguely out of his shawl. I looked above the picture and saw the headline:
EXCLUSIVE EXTRACY FROM THE UPCOMING BIOGRAPHY OF SUSAN CRIGHTON by Peter Meter
Thinking that whatever Meter had to say couldn't be that bad (stupid thinking, I know), and curious as to what the man had to say, I began to read:
Proud and haughty, Johnathon Crighton could not bear to remain in Bootle after his wife Lillian's well-publicised arrest and imprisonment in Azkaban. He therefore decided to uproot and, rather drastically some say, relocate to the Pride Lands in South Africa, the village that was later to gain fame as the scene of Kiara Pride-Lander's strange escape from She-You-Know.
Like Bootle, which is part of the area of Liverpool and is made up of a mixture of Muggles and wizards, such as the Pride Lands, but as Johnathon knew none of the wizarding families there, he would be spared the curiosity about her wife's crime he had faced in his former town. By repeatedly rebuffing the friendly advances of his new wizarding neighbours, he soon ensured that his family was left well alone.
"Slammed the door in my face when I went round to welcome him with a batch of homemade cauldron cakes, but he was polite when the guard came knocking on his door to welcome him, which I understand, of course, as that would have been rude, and I am not sure the ... one in charge of the Pride Lands would have taken it kindly," says Imamu Ibori. "The first year they were there I only ever saw the two girls. Wouldn't have known there was a son if I hadn't been picking Plangentines by moonlight the winter after they moved in, and saw Johnathon leading Sean out into the back garden. Walked him round the lawn once, keeping a firm grip on him, then took him back inside. Didn't know what to make of it."
It seems that Johnathon thought the move to the Pride Lands was the perfect opportunity to hide Sean once and for all, something he had probably been planning for years. The timing was significant. Sean was barely seven years old when he vanished from sight, and seven is the age by which most experts agree that magic will have revealed itself, if present. Nobody now alive remembers Sean ever demonstrating even the slightest sign of magical ability. It seems clear, therefore, that Johnathon made a decision to hide his son's existence rather than suffer the shame of admitting that he had produced a Squib. Moving away from the friends and neighbours who knew Sean would, of course, make imprisoning him all the easier. The tiny number of people who henceforth knew of Sean's existence could be counted upon to keep the secret, including his two sisters, who deflected awkward questions with the answer their father taught them: "My brother is too frail for school."
Next week: Susan Crighton at school - the prizes and the pretence.
I had been wrong: what I had read had been that bad and so much more. I looked back at the photograph of the apparently happy family, ignoring the quiet conversation that was happening between Mr Dawson, Chris, Sian, Chrissie and Meers. Was it true? How could I find out? I wanted to go to the Pride Lands, even if Imamu was in no fit state to talk to me; I wanted to visit the place where Crighton and I had both lost loved ones. I was in the process of lowering the newspaper, wanting to keep my opinions of the article until Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were alone, when a deafening crack echoed around the kitchen.
For the first time in three days, I had forgotten all about Kleaner. I turned and jumped to my feet as Kleaner disentangled herself from Mona and, curtseying low to me, croaked, "Kleaner has returned with the thief Mona Fetch, Mistress."
Mona scrambled up and pulled out her wand; Sian, however, was too quick for her.
"Expelliarmus!"
Mona's wand soared into the air and Sian caught it. Wild-eyed, Mona dived for the stairs: Chris pointed his wand at the door, which closed instantly. Panicking, Mona turned and faced me, as her eyes darted all around the kitchen, looking for an escape.
"Mr Dawson and Meers both looked startled.
"Kiara, what on earth is going on?" asked Mr Dawson.
"Stick around and you'll find out," I said, as Mona went off on a ranting tirade.
"What?" she bellowed. "Wha've I done? Setting a bleedin' 'ouse-elf on me, what are you playing at, wha've I don, lemme outta here, lemme out, or - "
"You're not in much of a position to make threats here," I said. I crossed the kitchen in a few strides and stopped in front of Mona, who looked up at me, terrified. I pointed my wand deliberately at Mona's nose. Mona stank of stale sweat and tobacco smoke: her hair was matted and her robes stained.
"Kleaner apologises for the delay in bringing the thief, Mistress," croaked the elf. "Fetch knows how to avoid capture, has many hidey-holes and accomplices. Nevertheless, Kleaner cornered the thief in the end."
"You've done really well, Kleaner," I said, and the elf curtsied low.
"Right, we've got a few questions for you," I told Mona, who shouted at once: "I panicked, OK? I never wanted to come along, no offence, mate, but I never volunteered to die for you, an' that was bleedin' She-You-Know come flyin' at me, anyone woulda got outta there, I said all along I didn't wanna do it - "
"For your information, none of the rest of us Disapparated," said Sian.
"Well, you're a bunch o' bleedin' 'eroes, then, aren't you, but I never pretended I was up for killing meself - "
"We're not interested on why you ran out on Crazy-Head," I said, moving my wand a little closer to Mona's baggy, bloodshot eyes. "We already knew you were an unreliable bit of scum."
"Well then, why the 'ell am I being 'unted down by 'ouse-elves? Or is this about them goblets again? I ain't got none of 'em left, or you could 'ave 'em - "
"It's not about the goblets, either, although you're getting warmer," I said. "Shut up and listen."
It felt wonderful for me to have something to do, someone of whom I could demand some small portion of truth. My wand was now so close to the bridge of Mona's nose that Mona, who had been looking at Mr Dawson and Meers for help, who were in no hurry to help her out any time soon, and were watching the scene before them mildly amused, refocused her attention on my wand, going cross-eyed in an attempt to keep in in view.
"When you cleaned out this house of anything valuable," I began, but Mona interrupted me again.
"Pumbaa never cared about any of the junk - "
There was the sound of pattering feet, a blaze of shining copper, an echoing clang and a shriek of agony: Kleaner had taken a run at Mona and hit her in the knees with a saucepan, sending Mona lying in a heap on the floor.
"Call 'er off, call 'er off, she should be locked up!" screamed Mona, cowering as Kleaner raised the heavy-bottomed pan again.
"Kleaner, no!" I shouted.
Kleaner's thin arms trembled with the weight of the pan, still held aloft.
"Perhaps one more, Mistress Kiara, for luck?"
Chris and Chrissie laughed.
"We need her conscious, Kleaner, but if she needs persuading you can do the honours," I said.
"Thank you very much, Mistres," said Kleaner with a curtsey, and she retreated a short distance, her great, pale eyes fixed upon Mona with loathing.
"When you stripped this house of all the valuables you could find," I began again, "you took a bunch of stuff from the kitchen cupboard. There was a locket there." My mouth was suddenly dry: I could sense Chris, Sian and Chrissie's tension and excitement, too. "What did you do with it?"
"Why?" asked Mona. "Is it valuable?"
"You've still got it!" cried Sian.
"No, she hasn't," said Chrissie shrewdly. "She's wondering whether she should have asked more money for it."
"More?" said Mona. "That would have been effing difficult ... bleedin' gave it away, di'n' I? No choice."
"What do you mean?"
"I was selling in Brickabon Alley an 'e comes up to me an' asks if I've got a licence for trading in magical artefacts. Bleedin' snoop. He was gonna fine me, but took a fancy to the locket an' told me 'e'd take it and let me off that time an' to fink meself lucky."
"Who was this man?" I asked.
"I dunno, some Ministry bloke."
Mona considered for a moment, brow wrinkled.
"Little man. Small black fez on top of 'is 'ead."
She frowned and then added, "Looked like a toad."
I felt like all the breath had just been forced out of my body. I looked up at Chris, Sian and Chrissie, and saw my own shock reflected in their faces, even as the scars on the back of my right hand seemed to be tingling again.
Trying to regain my composure, I said, my voice quite off, "Kleaner, get this piece of scum out of my house at once."
"Certainly, Mistress," said Kleaner at once, and after taking Mona's wand from Sian, she took Mona's hand and, with the usual loud crack, Disapparated.
"Kiara - " Sian began, worry conveying her tone.
"I know," I said. "I can't believe it, either. Of all the people to have their hands on the locket ..." I shook my head in disbelief.
"Now hold on a second, Kiara," said Mr Dawson. "Who is it that's got the locket?"
"Democritus Umber," I said, my voice low.
"Oh dear God, no!" Mr Dawson yelled, his hands shaking. "Now I know why you're worried, Kiara ... and you have every right to be, for getting the locket back from him will by no means be an easy task, for Democritus Umber has top-level security clearance, and the rounding up of Muggle-borns and Bright-brains alike - the Registration of the Muggle-Born and Bright-Brain Commission - was his idea. And he's Head of it."
I looked at Chris, Sian and Chrissie, who looked just as shocked as I did at this newfound information, but we knew what we had to do. I looked at my three best friends, and through their fear I also saw a fierce kind of determination settle over them at what we were going to have to do to get the locket back.
"We have no choice, then," I sighed resignedly, as Chris, Sian and Chrissie nodded their heads in understanding. "We'll have to do it."
"Do what?" said Mr Dawson, looking between Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I for an answer.
I looked Mr Dawson straight in the eye, took a deep breath, and said, "We have to break into the Ministry."