To Beth's great surprise, she didn't feel the effects of the early excursion to Durmstrang during their morning classes. Possibly it was the three cups of coffee that she had at breakfast, or the thrill of intercontinental travel, but Beth thought it was the exhilaration of knowing that there was some hope -- for her father and her future.
While the rest of them tried to grab an hour or so of sleep immediately before breakfast, Beth took the chance to look over the map. It was eerie to imagine her family crouched in their cells, and still more eerie to know when the dementors passed, represented by those ominous black dots. For the hundredth time, she was forced to wonder to herself: What are they like now? After twelve years of nothing but their darkest memories, what could be left of them?
But the success of the mission was enough to buoy her through the morning and even into lunch. It was only afterward, as they assembled for weekly O.W.L.s practice, that she really began to droop.
They had been revising Transfiguration for several weeks, and all of the Slytherins were sick of it. ("Who wants to see McGonagall an extra two hours a day?" Aaron reasoned.) Beth and Melissa sat beside each other, trying not to fall asleep as McGonagall went on and on about the importance of being able to transform things into other things and the dangers associated therewith.
"There shall be very little inanimate Transfiguration on the Ordinary Wizarding Levels," said McGonagall. "Nearly all of it is likely to be species-to-species. In fact, expect to see at least one case of animal-to-vegetable transformation, or vice-versa," McGonagall went on. Previous students coming out of the test have told me that fruit is a popular element in the transfiguration section, so I have procured some for our practice session today." A large grapefruit appeared in one hand. "You will be turning this into a rabbit -- and back -- for the rest of the class. I will come around and have each of you perform the spell in turn. You have ten minutes to prepare before I will begin."
Beth and Melissa were about halfway down the line, so they didn't really start preparing until McGonagall was almost on hand. Between their textbook and everyone else's example, they were able to work out the spell by the time McGonagall got to the Slytherin table.
"I just want this to be over," said Bruce, watching Mervin grappling with Gina to keep her from eating the rabbit that Aaron had just created from the grapefruit. "Stupid O.W.L.s. Time waster."
Suddenly, Melissa let out a low, heartfelt groan. Beth turned toward her in time to see her put her wand back in her pocket.
"What's wrong?" Beth murmured, but before Melissa could reply, McGonagall had reached Beth, with rabbit in hand, and paused while Beth turned the rabbit into a slightly wiggly grapefruit.
McGonagall fixed up the grapefruit before presenting it to Melissa. "A rabbit, if you please, Miss Ollivander," she said, holding out the grapefruit.
A brief look of panic crossed Melissa's face. Then she took a deep breath and enunciated, "Rodentia mogrificus."
The grapefruit vanished. In its place appeared -- not a bunny rabbit -- but an enormous, vicious rat, gnashing its teeth and writhing in McGonagall's grip.
Professor McGonagall, not usually one to faint in the face of danger, let out a shriek and dropped the rat onto the floor. It scuttled between the students, snapping its teeth at everyone in passing, scraggly fur fluttering at their ankles. Warrington managed to stomp his foot down on the ropy tail, but the rat turned on him with such malicious fury that he let it go again. The Weasley twins almost killed each other scrambling on the floor to catch it.
Just as Beth was sure that the gruesome creature was going to make a clean getaway, Cedric Diggory broke away from the Hufflepuff table. He pointed his wand at the retreating animal and roared, "Petrificus Totalus!"
The rat stopped dead in its tracks.
Diggory went to the rat, picked it up by the tail, and carried it back to Professor McGonagall.
The Hufflepuffs burst into wild applause. Soon the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were in on it too. Diggory went back to his table, red-faced but clearly enjoying the attention.
"The Transcongus Brew," Mervin whispered grimly, and Beth shuddered.
"Thank you, Mr. Diggory," said Professor McGonagall, dignity retrieved now that the rat was no longer squirming in her hands. "That will be ten points to Hufflepuff. Miss Ollivander, you would do well to study the intricacies of getting a species right." Melissa flushed bright red as McGonagall went on down the row and had Bruce turn the rat back into a grapefruit.
"What happened?" Beth whispered.
"The basilisk wand!" Melissa hissed back, her eyes alight. "I did the spell right -- it would've turned into a rabbit! The wand changed it all around -- wait till I tell my uncle!"
Beth wasn't nearly as enthused as her friend. "What are you even doing with that thing in O.W.L.s class?" she demanded under her breath.
For the first time, Melissa looked defensive. "I didn't have much of a choice! It was either this or -- well, look!"
She dug in her pocket and handed Beth a wand. Even to Beth's untrained eye, she could tell that it wasn't the sort of wand that you saw around Hogwarts every day. There was something distinctly different about the styling ...
"It's Gregorovich's," hissed Melissa. "We switched wands and never traded back! I've got to use the basilisk one until we can trade them again. I hoped it wouldn't act so strange, but I'm going to have to deal with it ..."
"You'd just better hope you get yours back before the actual O.W.L.s," said Beth, giving back the wand.
Melissa looked horrified.
Progress was stagnant for a week. Beth found herself distracted and forgetful. She read everything that the library had about Azkaban, and -- thanks to Madame Pince, the librarian and the only adult S.S.A. member at Hogwarts -- even got some outside resources. Sometimes she would sink into despair, but other times she considered the map, the ominous-sounding names of Bode and Croaker, and the great hope that was all she had to cling to.
It was more than that, she thought on the way to breakfast one morning. The mission had really energized the S.S.A. for the first time since the whole Chamber of Secrets incident. Richard was looking better than he had in months -- the spring was back in his step, the half-mad gleam of curiosity in his eye. Beth suspected that having success with just one project had been enough to make up for all his failures throughout the year.
She came in just as the daily flock of owls fluttered away, leaving packages and mail behind them. Melissa was sitting there reading a crinkled brown letter. Beth slid in beside her.
"What's that?"
Melissa blushed. "It's from Andrei. Gregorovich," she clarified, at Beth's blank look. She held up her wand. "I've finally got my proper wand back."
"And he took three pages to explain that?" Beth said, eyeing the parchments in Melissa's hands.
"Oh -- no, that's something else --" said Melissa. "When I sent back his wand, I mentioned something about how the breed of dragon affects a wand's properties -- he had something to say about that --" She waved the letter in the air. "Really, he knows his business well."
"I hope it's better than his English," Beth teased.
"His English is just fine," Melissa said shortly. "You're just jealous that you're not getting letters from a sexy Russian."
Beth laughed out loud. She hadn't really felt like laughing for weeks; with the map of Azkaban, she felt like she was one step closer to saving her father and putting her life back to the way that it ought to be.
Richard slid into the seat beside Beth and leaned close to her ear. "Hey Beth, want to go out tonight?"
She looked at him in astonishment. "What?"
"Bode and Croaker," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Let's go summon them this evening. Herne knows a great hiding place outside of Hogsmeade, but we'll want to get back before the dementors start patrolling."
"Oh -- all right," she whispered back. "When should we leave?"
"Just after dinner," Richard replied. "Meet by the statue of the one-eyed hag as soon as you're done eating. Oh -- the newspaper owl missed you, so he left this with me." He handed her the Daily Prophet. "See you this evening!"
The day couldn't go fast enough for Beth. She doodled through class and fidgeted through O.W.L.s practice. (Admittedly, she would have done so anyway; it was Binns, with his inexhaustible knowledge of goblin rebellions.) She picked at her dinner without paying attention to what was served. Afterward, she darted away to the meeting place at the mouth of the tunnel, behind the statue of the one-eyed hag.
No one was there when she arrived. She poked around a few crevasses where they might be hiding and, finding no one, leaned against the wall to wait.
Muffled whispers reached her ears.
"Ow -- not that way --"
"-- too darn tall --"
"Not my fault you're a shrimpy little devil --"
She glanced around ... and jumped. Two pairs of shoes, completely without any sort of bodies attached, were staggering down the hall toward her, stumbling and treading on one another with every few steps.
Beth stared at the advancing footwear, unsure whether to run, hide, or stay put and hope for the best. The whispers began again.
"There, now she's seen us --"
"-- told you it wouldn't work --"
"Well if you weren't so bloody tall!"
Finally Beth recognized the voices. "She's heard you, too," she said wryly, crossing her arms and looking up from the shoes, which had jerked to a halt a yard or so from her.
Richard's head appeared in midair, suspended several feet from the larger pair of shoes. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "It was Herne's idea."
He shrugged and the rest of him came into view, along with most of Herne and the silvery outline of the invisibility cloak. "It was not my idea," Herne said emphatically, folding up the cloak. "Anyway he's the one who's too tall to use the thing."
"I think you mean, you're the one who's too short," Richard countered good-naturedly.
They looked very odd standing together; one tall and handsome, the other still short and fresh-faced with youth. What a difference two years makes, Beth thought, and was surprised to recall what a small amount of time that was. "If you don't mind ..." she said meaningfully, nodding toward the statue of the one-eyed hag.
Richard looked bashful again. "Yes, you're right." He took out his wand, tapped the hag's hump, and muttered, "Dissendium." The hump slid aside to reveal the secret passageway. They all crowded inside before the hump slid back into place, leaving them in the darkness.
"Lumos."
Herne lit his wand and gazed around at the damp earthen walls. For a secret passage, the floor looked surprisingly well-used, but the walls and ceiling were as if they had been just dug. Here and there was the bone of a small animal or a candy wrapper -- Beth remembered that it came out in Honeydukes, so this was a perfectly reasonable thing to find. More disconcerting were the many holes that lined the edge of the floor; snakes, rats, and heaven knew what else made their home here, and they were likely to not be as friendly as Mervin's pets.
As they walked, Beth recalled certain places along the way. She had been in the tunnel before, when she and Richard had gone to London to tell Dumbledore about the firsties entering the forbidden corridor; now they took it at a much more leisurely pace. It was not an improvement. Beth kept envisioning worms and insects crawling around the ceiling, occasionally dropping down to fall on someone's hair or down the back of their shirts --
She gave a shudder and swore never to think about that kind of thing again, which meant that she thought about it the whole way.
The tunnel came out in the basement of Hogsmeade. "Keep quiet," Herne whispered, "there's a living room down here." Carefully, he led them through the basement and out a window into a small alley. Once outside, they crept through narrow, empty streets until they were well past the Shrieking Shack. Herne took them along an unused dirt path that led to the mouth of a small, dark cave. It was as large as their common room, with a ceiling that even Richard and Beth did not have to stoop under. A stalactite dripped farther back; other than that, they were completely alone.
The cave was desolate and damp. Herne kicked together some pieces of wood that were scattered along the ground and lit a fire. Richard took out the paper that Professor Viridian had given them. He twisted it in his hands a bit before taking a breath.
"Well -- here goes."
He tore off a bit of paper and threw it into the fire. Immediately, the flames licked at the edges and devoured it until there was nothing left but a smudge of gray on top of one log.
There was silence.
Beth looked at the pile of ashes. "What ... what now?"
Without warning, a breeze blew into the cave and whipped at the fire. The pile of ashes that had once been the piece of paper rose and dispersed in it, growing into a whirling dust devil that broke off into two small tornadoes. The ash tore around in a circle faster and faster -- something formed within each of the whirlwinds --
The wind died down. Where each tornado had been stood a man dressed all in black, from the scuffed shoes to the ribbed turtlenecks to the cap on each head.
One of them looked around cheerfully. "Blimey, Bole, I believe we're in a cave!"
"Right murky one too, if you ask me," said the other, running a finger along the dank wall. "Moss an' things, very third-world." He looked up and saw Richard as if for the first time. "An' I say! There's younguns 'ere!"
Richard stepped forward. "We are the student chapter of the --" he began formally, but Bode leapt forward and grabbed his hand.
"How d'ye do, Bode an' Croaker," he announced, grinning broadly. He had an extremely strong London accent. To Beth he sounded a lot like Dick van Dyke, in his rather caricatured role in Mary Poppins.
The other man jumped in and jostled the first one away. "Croaker an' Bode," he corrected, grabbing Richard's hand and pumping away. "At your very-esteemed service, guv."
"Callin' 'im 'guv', what are you, a bleedin' Cockney?" Bode snorted.
Croaker snorted in reply. "Hoity-toity now, ain't we, purveyor o' the King's English now, eh?" He gestured to Richard. "Anyhow, 'Ee's the president of the Society, doncha know."
Richard looked delighted. "That's right, how'd you know?"
Bode laid a finger to his nose. "Saw ye at Baltus Gatherum's funeral. Bit of an awkward toast you made there, wot? Not many of us raise our gin to the Dark Lord. There's a few, mind," he added hastily, "but they rather lay low, see?"
"I see," said Richard darkly.
Beth stepped up. "We need your help to break into Azkaban," she said bluntly.
To her great irritation, Croaker laughed. "Crikey, miss, it's not many a young lady wot wants to get into Azkaban."
"Well, there's one," Beth said crossly. "We need to get in and get some stuff out. We were told that you could help, but if you're just going to joke around --"
Bode put a hand over his heart mournfully. "Croaker -- we've just been chastised --"
Croaker followed suit. "Alas, if only mum had chastised us a bit more, we'd not be facin' the scorn of this foine girl."
"You're brothers?" asked Herne curiously.
"No." Bode turned back to Beth and bowed low at the waist. "Gloria serpens, miss, we'll do all we can."
"Good." Beth nodded curtly, to the great amusement of the two Unspeakables. "We have a map, but Professor Viridian thought you could --"
"Vinnie!" Croaker burst in cheerfully. "It's been ages since we've seen him, ain't it, Bode? He'll be an expat, I always used t' say -- didn't I -- and didn't he go an' take up at Durmstrang, just like I thought!"
"Good on you," Bode agreed. "I always knew you had th' Soight, remember that time in Divination --"
"Professor Viridian thought you could give us some tips," Beth broke in loudly. "How to get there, what to do about the dementors ..."
"Lemon drops," said Bode thoughtfully.
Croaker nodded. "I could stand a lemon drop or two -- haven't got one on you, eh?" he asked Herne, who shook his head.
"Would you pay attention!" Beth said hotly. "We're going to do this whether you help or not, but it would be a lot easier if you'd just give us a hand here!"
Bode looked hurt. "I say, we were helping you," he insisted, making puppy-dog eyes.
"Very true, that," Croaker agreed. "Got to take lemon drops. Suck on 'em, see, and the dementors can't harm you as much -- hard to forget that there's good in the world, with a lemon drop in yer gob," he added sagely.
"Oh." Beth blushed. "Well -- that's useful, I guess."
"Bloody right," said Bode cheerfully.
"Sure you haven't got a lemon drop?" Croaker prodded.
"No, we haven't, but we'll get some next chance we get," snapped Beth. "If this goes off I'll buy you barrels of lemon drops."
"Oh, bully!" exclaimed Bode. "Let's get down to it, then. Let's see, you've got the map off of Vinnie I expect." Beth handed over the map and Bode looked it over with an expert eye. "Hmm, more dementors than usual -- 'spect they're a bit edgy, wot, after losing Black?"
Croaker leaned over his shoulder. "Must be a grand of 'em," he observed. "Nasty brutes -- clever too. I'd say a distraction was in order, wouldn't you, Bode?"
"Mm, yes, noice big one if y'ask me. Burn down a bit of the place, p'raps ..."
"It's made of stone," said Beth flatly.
Bode beamed at Croaker. "Sharp as a tack, this 'un! I mean to say, p'raps you could start a fire insoide one o' the rooms, draw away the dementors. Light one in this stairwell, see -- keep 'em out o' the upstairs." He tapped the staircase that led up to the Death Eater floor.
"How do we get to the island?" asked Beth. "The ferryman only works on order by the Ministry."
"Done 'er research, too," said Croaker, nudging Bode in the ribs. "Lessee. There's two ways, ain't there -- sea and air. Either way, I'd say you'll want some concealing spell -- invisibility's all right, but you'll want summat else too -- they can sense y' coming, rather'n see you. Need to make your emotions undetectable." His Cockney accent twisted the word "undetectable" into an amusing facsimile.
"What kind of thing can do that?" asked Herne.
Bode scrunched up his face and thought about it. "Graphorn hide's good to keep off spells," he said thoughtfully. "So's Erumpet skin."
For one of the first times in memory, Richard looked uncertain. "It'll be a job getting four or five Erumpet cloaks," he said, brow furrowed.
Croaker looked startled. "Four or five? 'Ow many of you d'you want to sneak in?"
"One's fine," Beth began, but Richard broke in:
"It's got to be at least three. We're sticking together on this," he added, meeting Beth's eyes. She looked away.
Bode stroked his chin. "Bit of a different story then, wot?" he said thoughtfully. "I mean, blimey, it's one thing to get a loner inside, but a whole flock of you ..." He snapped his fingers. "I say, Croaker, could we obtain an Amulet of Eclipse, d'you think?"
"May'aps," Croaker agreed. "Have to go through Grubbs, but she'll give us a loan ..."
"What will that do?" asked Beth suspiciously. She was still not convinced that any pair of clowning Cockneys from a clandestine department of the Ministry could be much use on such an important mission -- a vital mission, she thought firmly.
Bode considered a moment before answering. "We've all got five senses, see -- you can hear summat, or taste it, things like that. There's other senses too, that some has ... Seers got their inner eye, dunno what that is, but they all talk about it ... dementors got their own sense, too, they sort of ... well, pick up your emotions -- like a radio picks up the Wizarding Wireless Network," he added. "The Eclipse Amulet sort of ..."
"Obfuscates," said Croaker helpfully.
"Yeah, it obfuscates -- what?"
"Conceals, like."
"Right, that's it. Conceals your emotions. Blocks 'em from bein' sensed, see? Like invisibility does to other folks' sight."
"We still need more than one," Beth pointed out.
Croaker broke into a grin. "Ceteris paribus, m'dear." He held up his hand with the S.S.A. ring on it and wiggled his fingers around. "Just one'll do you fine."
Satisfied, Beth nodded thoughtfully. "So we can avoid being seen by the dementors and we can hold off their effect on us. One more thing: how do we get there?"
"Told you -- sky or sea," said Bode. "It's no great shakes to me. There's no guards between Azkaban an' dry land -- they never had to worry 'bout breakouts, an' you'd be a fool to want to go there. No 'ffense, miss," he added hastily, at Beth's scowl. "Just sayin' that it's a godforsaken place, that's all."
"Fool or not, I'm going," snapped Beth, grabbing back the map of Azkaban and rolling it up.
"We're going," Richard amended. "Thank you for all your help. Is there anything we can do for you?"
Croaker thought for a moment. "Where are we?"
"Just outside of Hogsmeade Village," said Herne.
"Excellent!" said Bode brightly. He looked over at Croaker. "Let's go into the, what is it then, the Three Broomsticks? We'll let'cha buy us drinks," he added gracefully to Herne.
"We can't, we're out here illegally and can't be seen," said Beth shortly.
"Aha." Bode laid a finger to his nose. "Don't worry, mum, you'll be with us. No one'll rat on you."
"What's that got to do with it?" said Beth crossly, but somehow, she found herself with Richard, Herne, and the two Unspeakables in one corner of the nearly-empty Three Broomsticks.
Madame Rosmerta came around with three butterbeers and two pints of her famous mulled mead. "Smashing!" cried Bode, grabbing the mead and passing one to Croaker. "Thanks, Rosie, you're a doll." She rolled her eyes at him, but smiled and dodged his hand as he tried to pinch her in a private locale. "Charmin' lass," he said fondly, as she returned behind the counter.
"Where d'you know her from?" asked Herne.
Bode thought about it. "Never met 'er." He took a long draught of mead. "Um, splendid. What d'you say, Croaker?"
"I say I wish we got summoned to Hogsmeade more often," said Croaker, his nose deep in his pint. "Can't exactly say where we do get summoned, mind, but I can't imagine it's got mead this good."
Richard was interested. "What do you do, in the Department of Mysteries?"
"Can't remember," said Bode brightly. "You, Croaker?"
"Not a moment of it," agreed Croaker. "Can't actually remember wot the office looks like, either. Gray and boxy, do you think?"
"Some-ought like that," Bode said thoughtfully. "Windows, I suppose."
"Maybe not, though."
"Honestly, are you two always kidding?" said Beth in exasperation.
Bode looked up at her, and there was something new in his eyes: mournful, a little lost. "We ain't kidding, miss," he said. "Part of the job, you know. They send us out an' bring us back, wipe our minds, so's we can't tell wot we've been up to. That's why you've got to have a partner -- reminds you why you wake up to a day you won't remember."
Beth looked at Croaker, who nodded absently, and shuddered.
"But -- it's worth it, isn't it?" Richard asked anxiously, leaning forward. "You get to learn all sorts of secrets, take part in the most classified dealings --"
Croaker shrugged. "Yeah, it's interestin', far as I can recollect. We remember some stuff, see ... like who we meet, and all. Like Grubbs. She's in the Department for the Regulation an' Control of Magical Creatures, she's a good old bird. Member, too," he added to Richard, again wiggling the fingers to show off the S.S.A ring. "First lass in the club, actually. She knew old Tommie back afore he went an' changed his name."
"Tommie -- oh," said Herne, turning red. "If she knew him at school, then -- why didn't she join ... You-Know-Who ... later on?"
Bode looked outraged, but Croaker roared with laughter.
"Not all of Riddle's school friends went an' turned Dark," Bode began crossly, but Croaker broke in:
"She told me she might've but she couldn't keep from thinking of him as a twitchy little first-year!" he said gleefully. "Ol' Grubbs used to pick on him like nobody's business!"
Bode gaped at him. "Really?"
"Straight from the old biddy's mouth!" said Croaker.
"I'll be darned," said Bode. He took a contemplative drink of mead. "I always reckoned Riddle for the aggressive sort."
"Well, you know Grubbs," Croaker shrugged.
Summoning the two Unspeakables, it turned out, had been easy -- it was a job getting them to leave. They joshed and told stories, flirted with Madame Rosmerta until she was quite flustered, and in short had such a good time that Richard finally had to put his foot down and order them away.
"I'm sorry about all this!" he bellowed to Madam Rosmerta, trying to shove the jovial pair out the door.
She looked after him quizzically. "For what?"
"For the -- and -- never mind," he finished, dislodging Croaker's fingers from the doorframe with one final shove.
It was almost nightfall; the dementors would be out patrolling very soon. Richard tried to hurry them along as they trudged back to the cave.
"We could've stayed longer," Herne said, trotting beside Bode. He had really begun to idolize the pair. "Madam Rosmerta was hardly even mad."
"Give 'er a few minutes, and she won't be angry at all," said Croaker, hands in his pockets.
"Right, she's forgiven us already, I'd reckon," Bode chimed in.
"You'd be so lucky," Richard murmured, looking over his shoulder to be sure no dementors were nearby.
"Take it easy, old sport!" said Croaker heartily, clapping a hand to Richard's shoulder. "She'll have forgotten us all by now. Why, I'll bet she's back there, wonderin' where all her mead got to."
Richard looked up at him skeptically, but then understanding dawned in his eyes. "The Department of Mysteries."
"Righto, chap," said Bode, and hiccupped. "Easier to be Unspeakables if we're Unrememberables, eh?" He and Croaker laughed on each others' shoulders.
"Thanks again," said Beth firmly, shoving them into the cave. "We'll call you if we need you."
"Oh mercy, we've been dismissed --" began Bode, but Croaker broke in:
"Enough of that, it's been a long day, I'm beat."
"Umm, yes. What did we do all day again?"
"Blamed if I know. Let's ask Grubbs."
"Yes, she'll have noticed ..."
As they spoke, their voices grew fainter and fainter until Beth couldn't make out what they were saying. Then their forms began to dissolve as well, becoming ghostlike, then transparent. Still chatting gaily, Bode and Croaker slipped away to reappear somewhere so secret that even they would never fully know it.