The Murder of Joey Reed
A/N: I am so sick of writing trial scenes. This was one of the hardest chapters to put together. Here, have it ahead of schedule, with a helping of names that are derived from both Classical Mythology and that one book in American Lit class that nobody read.
ooooo
Everyone settled in comfortably as the self-important music swelled, and the announcer said, "October 31st, 1996. Coming to you live from London, this is the Wizarding Wireless News Network. Our senior Muggle Issues correspondent Melpomene Timbre is on the scene and has special permission to report from inside the courtroom, in the Ministry of Magic. We are receiving, ladies and gentlemen, the live feed from the courtroom itself… now transferring you over for the exclusive coverage. Over to you, Miss Timbre."
A smooth and faintly bored female voice took over. "Thank you, Jon. I'm here with Lyman Heckinger, Daily Prophet correspondent, right on the edge of the courtroom floor, and it is quite a spectacle in here today. The courtroom is packed, and there's a crowd outside the door that has to be restrained by security wizards. This is Melpomene Timbre, and you're listening to the Wizarding Wireless News Network."
Again, the jingle.
"It's only moments before what is rumored to be the final trial of Mark Printzen, Presumptive Muggle. The preceding events have been quite tangled, but it has come to center around a few core questions: was the break-in at the house of Turpin Rowle, Omniamnist, justified? Why did Calliope Ollivander go missing for seven days?"
"Because I was kidnapped?" the actual Calliope asked.
"And is Mark Printzen in fact guilty of Presumption – and why should you care? Here to ask and judge these questions are the eleven judges of the Wizengamot, with Pius Thicknesse in presidency. The only judge absent, in fact, is Albus Dumbledore, and that's only to be expected with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The seats on the courtroom floor fill up. This time, the respected Omniamnist, Turpin Rowle, is taking on the role of plaintiff –"
"Plaintiff?" Mark repeated.
"—and he is seated along the southeastern wall of the court. On the southwestern wall, in solemn silence, are: the wizard who acted as Printzen's consul in his first trial, Linus Ollivander, sitting up straight in his Obliviator robes; the witness for the defense in the trial of last September, Amity Tweak, with a heavy scarf around her neck, and, last but not least, the controversial figure of Calliope Ollivander."
All the eyes in the room turned to Calliope, sitting on the couch.
"This is her first appearance before the Wizengamot in this case, and her presence has been a strong point of contention, as she is claimed to be a friend to Printzen and possibly his enabler in stealing magic."
"Controversial?" Calliope repeated.
"Well, yes, because apparently you're here and you're supposed to be there," Mark commented uneasily.
"What is going on?" Calliope restrained her voice to a fierce whisper as Miss Timbre went on…
Melpomene Timbre went on, "There's still more questions surrounding Miss Ollivander and her exact relationship with Mr. Printzen. Before the court right now she looks cool and calm, but it might be an act. Rumors that she was at the Agnes Stidolph School for Werewolves yesterday during its attack have been confirmed.
"Also present at that attack was Ceridwen Brynach, headmistress of the school, who is currently rehabilitating in St. Mungo's, and Mr. Printzen. One student is missing, and the whereabouts of Hector Gibbs, cousin to Miss Ollivander, and pure-blood wizard, are unknown."
"But what about…" Mark started, before there was a sound from the radio as if the crowd suddenly started to talk quite a bit more loudly.
"And here come the two defendants –"
"Two?" Mark asked.
"Andrew Dupont, a claimed Muggle-born wizard, and Mark Printzen, the Presumptuous Muggle himself."
Mark muttered, "This can't be actually happening."
"They are both well-dressed, in suits and ties in the Muggle fashion. Both are accompanied by security wizards. Mr. Dupont looks morose, but Mr. Printzen looks around him with a cocksure air. They are both seated in the Chair of Chains.
"Wait – Mr. Dupont is resisting. It appears he didn't know that he would be in the Chair. Eventually he sits down. He is chained at the ankles; Mr. Printzen is bound by all but his right hand."
"You are kidding me," Mark muttered behind his hand.
"And Pius Thicknesse is calling for order in the court. I will turn you over to him – Melpomene Timbre, Wizarding Wireless News Network."
The sound changed: instead of Timbre's close and smooth voice, there was more background noise. The voices appeared to be farther away, but they were still perfectly audible.
"Hearing on October 31st, 1996, I, Pius Frollo Thicknesse, hereby call this court to order." He listed out the names of the judges on the Wizengamot, and finished with, "We today stand Mark Emory Printzen and Andrew Paul Dupont on trial for Presumption, breaking and entering, and conspiracy. How are you pleading?"
"Not guilty, your honor," Andrew said. Then, in a lower voice, "Mark, say 'Not Guilty.'"
"Not guilty." The voice was bored and ironical.
"This is not happening," Mark muttered. "I don't even sound like that."
A sharp gavel tap sounded. "The honorable Pius Thicknesse calls the court to order."
The judges summarized the previous trials and what had been established there.
"Mr. Printzen, you are charged with breaking and entering into the plaintiff's house. It is a recognized fact: the one question left is why."
"I've told you. Turpin Rowle kidnapped Calliope before my eyes."
"If Miss Ollivander will perhaps share her recollections…"
Miss Timbre said, "Miss Ollivander stands up, looking pale but determined. She hesitates…"
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot," said Calliope's voice, "I have made statements before now as to what really happened, why my brother, cousin, and – this man – invaded Mr. Rowle's home. But I refute them now, once and for all." Gasps. "They were made out of fear. I was being threatened."
"By whom?" asked Umbridge.
After a pause, more gasps sounded. "The young lady points to Mark Printzen," Miss Timbre informed the audience.
Calliope's voice sounded. "Mr. Rowle did not kidnap me. I summoned him, and fled with him. I asked him to protect me, and he did so. I was afraid –"
"What were you afraid of?"
Another hesitation. "Mark – that Muggle there – tried to rape me." Her voice caught. "Yes, rape me. Fortunately my brother intervened. I had to get away. But I've been out of England so long, what friends did I have? I had to turn to the most powerful one I could find, my brother's superior."
"Why couldn't you simply overpower the Muggle?" asked Pius Thicknesse.
"I'm – sorry, so sorry, I'm uncertain – let me start again. The night that I left Boston, that man deliberately hit me with his car. He wasn't trying to kill me; only to incapacitate me, but I Disapparated and survived. He knew I was a witch – I don't know how he found out, but he knew. He was trying to steal my magic. And he did steal my wand."
There was a massive reaction in the court. Someone in the audience yelled out "Presumption!" and the gavel sounded before it was quiet enough for the woman to speak again. "He followed me to England. He got arrested – he didn't plan that. But he won over my cousin and my brother. He can be very charming when he wants to be. And he never stopped trying to find me and steal my magic. And –" she choked, and could not go on.
"What?" Umbridge snapped. "Spit it out, girl!"
"He succeeded, damn him! He succeeded! I have no more magic!"
Pandemonium reigned. Not least in the many voices was Mark's, shouting "Shut up! Shut up, you—!" According to Melpomene Timbre, Miss Ollivander was very upset. She only answered two more questions: what exactly had Mr. Printzen done?
He had stolen her magic.
When?
He had been leeching it away from her for weeks, since his attempted rape. What had happened at the Otter's Holt had been a brief and unstable display of the magic that he'd stolen, when he had terrorized the Muggles in the pub, disfigured Calliope by turning her skin green, and mutilated Januarius Fell with Sectumsempera. But that had been a brief fling. Once her brother had separated the two of them, Calliope had started to regain her strength.
Then, yesterday, at the Agnes Stidolph School, Mark Printzen had finally succeeded in his theft.
She refused to answer any more questions, so the examination turned to Mr. Larson, an Unspeakable that Miss Ollivander had worked with.
His questioning was brief, as he had work to do, but he confirmed that Miss Ollivander had always had trouble with magic, and she had never used a wand. She'd been distracted and disoriented, so much so that the Department of Mysteries had had to refuse her volunteer work.
The next witness for the prosecution was Turpin Rowle. His version of events aligned exactly with what "Calliope" had said: she had asked for his help, he had only sheltered her against that predatory Muggle. Of course it was natural for her to experience mental shock after having her magic stolen from her. It was his professional opinion, furthermore, that the so-called "attack" on the school was nothing of the sort, but actually the result of magic – stolen magic, wielded by a Muggle and of course completely out of control – that had blasted out an entire wall and damaged a wing.
"And I don't even venture to guess what it must have done to Hector Gibbs," he added. "Considering we have yet to find his body. Perhaps Printzen stole his magic as well? Or killed him to keep him –"
"No." That was Andrew's voice, very soft and steady. "No."
"Believe whatever you want," said Rowle. "If need be, I'm prepared to perform enhanced interrogation techniques on Mr. Printzen to gain a full confession…"
"After his testimony, after his testimony, hem hem," Umbridge coughed. That was the end of Rowle's testimony. He yielded the floor to Linus Ollivander. Melpomene Timbre couldn't hold back a note of appreciation: he was as stern and as composed as a king as he took the floor.
Umbridge asked Mr. Ollivander to contribute his say on whether the Muggle had succeeded in theft of magic. She had barely finished before Linus said, "It's true. He has attempted to force himself on my sister before. I've witnessed this with my own eyes."
"When?"
"When I was at Hollywyck, our family homestead. It was the day that Calliope went into Turpin Rowle's care…" he proceeded to sketch a scene in swift, businesslike strokes. He left his sister and the defendant in the library. He returned, hearing a noise. He opened the door, and Mark (only now did he use the defendant's name) was on top of Calliope on the couch, saying to her, "Now you know why they said to stay away from us— stay far, far away, because otherwise…"
As he described his, Calliope began to tense up, curling in on herself, tighter and tighter. She refused to look up, and no one looked at her (Mark stared at the carpet).
Linus finished with, "I intervened, thank God, and just then Rowle arrived, and Calliope fled with him. Mark attempted to pursue her – and with his persuasive charm he convinced me to distrust my own eyes. I followed him to my own undoing, and I got arrested for my folly.
"After they were reunited, his hold over her grew stronger. It even got to the point where the Muggle made her think he had been the victim. She told me that what I saw – at my own home – was a false memory. She said it was invented by Turpin Rowle – as if I, an Obliviator, couldn't recognize a false memory when I saw one!"
Calliope screamed into her folded arms. Everyone started.
"What's wrong—" Mark started.
"He promised! He promised me he wouldn't tell anyone, damn him, he promised! God – damn – turn it off, turn it off!" She scrambled out of the chair and pushed her way out onto the back porch, where she screamed again. War and attacks and necromancy and confessions and now this – how could Linus have done this? What power on earth could have made him believe what was false, and break his promise to her?
Calliope felt tears gathering at her eyes, but she swallowed them back, starting to stride along the porch. This was no time for tears. Linus was betraying her. More, someone was stealing her face, someone was stealing her name and voice to tell lies and destroy Mark's life, her life. But focus on Linus, now, how could Linus be doing this?
What if Linus was kidnapped? And replaced, as she and Mark had been? That was the easiest answer, and it had an appeal – despite the idea of Linus being captured – ah, she had quiet to think out here, that was the point of the attack at the school yesterday. Mark's gut reaction had been right; they weren't after the students, they were after him, but not to merely kidnap him, but to replace him, and stage this real-time, improvised radio drama.
She gave a sigh of relief. Now it fell into place, now she could see the machinery driving the whole. How they were able to replicate Mark and Calliope was another question – as it was, how come Andrew and Linus had not noticed?
Andrew might be distracted – especially if Hector had no double, had simply vanished—and Linus – that brought her back to her brother.
The testimony of her own double surely meant that Turpentine had a hand in this. He had written up the script for "Calliope" and probably "Mark" – but "Linus"? Every thing would be within his power to know – except for Linus' remark about false memories. Why would Turpentine's actor say that?
But the words stemmed from a conversation Calliope had had with her brother – the moment she had made him promise never to tell anyone else. That the real Linus was speaking, then, made the most sense. And only the real Linus would want to publicly air his own thought process, to assure the world that the facts were beyond doubt, because he had doubted, but now understood.
It was so like her brother.
"God damn it," she muttered, facing towards the forest.
A soft voice called her name. She turned and saw Julietta, standing by the door to the library. The younger witch waited until Calliope approached. "We all want to know if you're all right."
"Kind of you to inquire. Could you please do a very quick Tarot reading for me? Right now? Do you have your cards?"
Julietta looked only mildly surprised. "Of course. I would be happy to. But are you all right?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just need to know something—"
'Or maybe,' it occurred to her as she followed Julietta into the house, 'maybe that is the real Linus, and he's acting. He knows that that is not the real me, not the real Mark, he's playing along because he's been told we'll die otherwise. … Is my brother that good of an actor?'
From the opposite end of the library, the young women could hear the radio going on at low volume. "All right. Please ask if my brother, Linus, is really testifying with the Wizengamot, or if it's an imposter."
Five cards, laid out in a cross. Eight of Wands. Knight of Swords. The Moon in the center. Emperor. Two of Swords.
Calliope was about to ask something when Julietta interpreted, "Yes, it really is your brother. He believes what he's saying. But he might not be in his right mind."
"Oh…" Calliope looked down at the normally timid girl, who was regarding the cards with an air of sang-froid. "That answers all of my questions, actually."
"Good. So I'll put these away?" Julietta was folding up the deck when four cards fell out. She picked them up and studied them.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, my cards are just trying to tell me something."
"Calliope! Come—" Mark emerged from between the stacks. He paused. "You were – getting a reading?"
"Yes, but I'm done now. What is it?"
"Linus just said – he accused Andrew of teaching me to steal magic – and now Andrew is testifying."
They sat themselves in front of the radio once more, eyes fixed on its mahogany and screened front.
"Look, I have never said the things that Mr. Ollivander attributed to me just now. I would never try to teach Mark magic, much less how to steal it—"
"Mr. Dupont, please focus on the questions at hand. What is your employment at…" a rustling of paper. "The Pentagram?"
An awkward pause. "I'm part of an elite defense force… tasked with…"
"Exactly which force? Which department? Which division of the Pentagram?"
"I… can't tell you."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I can't tell you. My job is classified."
"Classified. Really." Someone snickered.
"Yes, it's what happens with jobs pertaining to national security…"
"How funny… How very classified it must be, then, since the Pentagram has no record whatsoever of your occupation there. None that they would release to us, anyway."
"Well—well – that only makes sense, if you knew what my job was…"
"We don't know what your job is, Mr. Dupont. We have only your word for it that you even have a job at the Pentagram, that you are even recognized as a wizard by the United States government."
"What?"
"You've been leeching off of the American Embassy in London for weeks now."
"Because of my job—"
"Your insubstantial, unprovable job? Is it really the job, or are you employing the Imperius Curse?"
"What? I would never, ever, use the Imperius Curse!"
"Your wand will answer for that. It has been taken into custody."
"No! You –"
"Does the name Jehoshaphat Dimmesdale Reed mean anything to you?"
After a pause, "Joey? Do you mean Joey Reed?'
"Joey Reed?" Mark repeated. "I thought his name was just Joseph…"
"Who is he?" Guadalupe asked.
Andrew answered, "He was a friend of mine. A friend of ours. Mark and Joey and me, we were in elementary school together."
"And Mr. Reed was a pure-blooded wizard."
"Well, yeah – I think he had ancestors who were wizards in the very first colonies, his family went way back—"
"Why did his family deign to send him to school with you?" Umbridge's voice barely contained her sneer.
In response, Andrew's tone carried a sound of straightening up. "To teach him how to interact with other kids, give him the chance to play with kids his own age. He wanted to go. Are you going to try and penalize him, or something?"
"That would be very hard," Mark said, half to himself, with a dark laugh.
"Did you know he was a wizard?" Calliope asked him.
"No, not at the time. But Andrew's filled me in since."
"And you befriended him," Umbridge went on.
Andrew replied, "Yes. When I started showing magic, he took a real interest in me. Heh, he kind of took me under his wing, even though he was, what, seven months older than me? Weird to—"
"Finish the story."
"Sorry, ma'am…" Andrew cleared his throat. "He wanted to teach me about wizards and the whole world and stuff… he kind of thought of me as taking his place. He had a heart defect, see? He was born with it. All the magic in the world couldn't cure it – not that his parents didn't try. But he was a brave kid. Looked death straight in the face… and grinned."
"So he died," said Thicknesse bluntly.
"Yes. March seventh, 1982." ("It was March sixth, you dunderhead," Mark said flatly.) "He was nine years old, almost ten."
"Hem hem." Umbridge sounded very pleased. "The court summons Atreus Fell, expert witness on Presumption."
Atreus Fell spoke, in a commanding tone that made Julietta draw her knees to her chin and hug herself, "Mr. Dupont, when was the last time you saw Mr. Reed alive?"
Andrew paused a long time before answering. "Two days before. He told Mark and I he had a doctor's appointment the next day. We hung out in After School Care. We played a game. A board game."
"So," asked Atreus Fell, "He saw you two days before his death… and you were clearly competing with each other? Striving against each other?"
"It was just some dumb game, we weren't really striving…"
Atreus Fell interrupted, continuing to question him on the most obscure minutiae, questions so strange and abstract – "Did you ever own a lock of Mr. Reed's hair? Did you ever know his complete legal name before he died? One what days of the week were you prone to meet?" And more and more Andrew's answers became, "I really don't recall," and "I don't know," and then, in a burst of anger, "That was over sixteen years ago! I don't remember!"
"Please keep your patience, Mr. Dupont," said Atreus Fell with the voice of an affronted saint. "We are in a court of law."
Then, Mr. Fell began his cross-examination in earnest. His eloquence was overwhelming. The accusations fell as savagely as blows. All of Mr. Fell's research on Presumption had shown – first the friendship, then the sudden weakening of one party – this was practically a case study – the ideas were presented in a clear, simple sequence. Andrew had instigated the friendship, taken advantage of Joey's weakness and innocence. Andrew had sapped Joey's strength, his knowledge of the world, until the wizard's frailness gave way. The persistence of the young, devouring Muggle – so typical of a race that destroyed the land, exploited the weak, to compensate their own lack of nobility and magic. Joey Reed's magic had been stolen, and his death was the immediate and natural consequence in one so young and feeble. Andrew's magic, every spell he'd cast for seventeen years, was the pilfered, captured, stolen magic from a boy who'd been as good as murdered.
When Fell made his closing argument, applause sounded. His rhetoric was flawless. It made beautiful, clockwork sense. The only voice that sounded against the euphony was Andrew. He was livid.
"That is not true, you are a Muggle-hater and you – you – you could not be more wrong. Do you hear me?"
He could only barely be heard above the sudden clink of chains.
Melpomene Timbre leaned into the microphone, whispering, "The chains are binding him more tightly… it appears that the tribunal has taken his outburst as a threat."
The judges asked Andrew to perform a simple test to prove that he did possess magic. Andrew was given a replacement wand of balsa wood, and asked to levitate a feather. This he did. Thus concluded his testimony.
Mark Printzen's testimony opened with a request from the judges: using the same balsa wood wand, to perform the same test.
This brief transition in the trial was met with much muttering on every side of the microphone, where Andrew's words could be barely distinguished: "He can't – he's a Muggle – you're all wasting your time, do you have any concept of wasting time?" Then he fell silent.
The entire courtroom fell silent.
Breathlessly, Melpomene Timbre informed the entire Wizarding Wireless Network that Mark Printzen, wand in hand, was levitating the feather by his own magic.
There was so much chatter, noise, and outcry that the announcer's voice could barely be heard, saying that the court was calling a twenty-minute recess. When the radio switched to a commercial for a brand of mouthwash, Guadalupe reached out and turned the volume way down. "Well," she said, "the plot thickens, doesn't it?"
"We have to go to London," Hector stood up. "Now."
"What if it's a trap?" Julietta, sitting by herself in an armchair, curled up closer.
"Can't be a trap if they don't expect us to be listening." Calliope said.
"But aren't they? Everyone's listening."
"They meant to capture us yesterday. Mark and I, and probably Hector, were supposed to be kidnapped yesterday and kept apart."
"So we have to go," Hector urged.
"How are they impersonating us?" Mark asked.
"Polyjuice Potion, most likely… especially if Circe Goshawk is on their team, a potion like that would probably be no challenge to her."
Mark asked, "So how did they do it? How do you make that potion?"
"I was just reading about it – I'm studying potions independently –" Julietta started in her nervous way. "The essential thing is a bit of the person you're changing into. Hair is often used…"
"Hair?" Calliope interrupted.
"Yes, hair, but fingernails, skin, anything can be used… Why do you ask?"
Calliope was slowly tracing the pinned-back lock of hair that was shorter than the rest. When the others asked, she told them, "At the Black Otter, at the same time as – no, before they fed me that potion to turn me green – they cut off some of my hair. With all that went on, I didn't even remember for a couple of days. And Circe made the potion, the green-skin one."
"Do you have proof of that?" Julietta asked.
"Well – no, except that it was made in her style. Improvised. That's what the experts said. I know she's been working with the Death Eaters, though I didn't see her there…"
"Proof!"
"I know, Hector, I know –"
"There is proof," Mark said suddenly. "Can blood work for Polyjuice?"
"Better than anything," Julietta said in the following silence.
"Circe took some of my blood." Mark told the story of how Circe had been hired to brew Wolfsbane potion, and Guadalupe helped him to explain Circe's theory of customizing potions, and her off-color comment as she took some of Mr. Printzen's blood –
"You let her?" Calliope burst out, livid. "You let her take your blood?"
"Just to demonstrate, I had no idea…"
"Good god, she could have used that to perform serious Dark Magic on you, Mark! Any number of curses or – you're practically lucky she only used it for Polyjuice!"
"I had no idea! I'm the stupid Muggle, remember?"
"Do not talk about yourself that way, you just have no idea how –"
"People!" Hector interrupted. "You're forgetting the point. We have proof that Circe is the one who had access to something she could use to impersonate Mark. That's enough to take to the Wizengamot."
"Okay, then," Mark stood up. "What are we waiting for?"
"Is that some kind of a trick question?" Calliope asked.
"A trick question? When the options are to stop them – perverting the system of justice and telling lies in our names, or not to, I don't think it's much of a trick."
"They're Death Eaters. They're always a trick up their sleeves."
"Do you remember from the Black Otter? You said so later, they barely were communicating with each other, no one knew when to do X, Y, or Z—"
"Mark—"
"They're badly organized! Our arrival will throw them into chaos, and then where will their radio show be?"
"Mark, these are Death Eaters. These aren't actors, and they aren't just political zealots. Have you forgotten what they're willing to do? And Turpentine is with them, he's there." Her face paled as she went on. "He thinks on his feet. He adapts, even to the worst situation. We can't stop him – the most we'll be able to do is confuse him briefly, and then he'll make it work for himself, and he'll create an even worse havoc."
"Calliope—"
"I know."
"We can not just stand by and listen to this. Who knows what they're going to do to Andrew when this is done?"
"There's another option," Julietta piped up. All eyes turned to her. "They mentioned that Dumbledore isn't there. He's a Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot. If he's not there, he's probably at Hogwarts. If we can find him and convince him to take our side…"
"Can he stand against the whole rest of 'em, though?" Guadalupe asked.
"I like this idea," Calliope said to Julietta, "but the security on Hogwarts has been quadrupled since you attended."
"But I'm still eligible to be a student," Julietta said hopefully. Calliope looked at her with less confidence.
"Calliope," Mark said. "Are you afraid to meet Turpentine again?"
She visibly stiffened, and her cheeks colored. "No. Of course not."
"We wouldn't be walking into a trap, if they don't expect us."
"I'm saying, it would hardly be less dangerous than a trap would be."
"We can't leave Andrew there, and just sit back and listen while they lie."
She nodded, very slowly and deliberately. "You have a point. But I would still rather go to Dumbledore." She turned to her cousin. "Hector? What do you think?"
Hector, arms crossed, considered for so long that an entire commercial for the play of The Little Mermaid on Mockingbird Lane had time to flare up and die. Finally, he said, "Someone should go to Dumbledore, but Calliope and Mark must go to the trial right now. We owe it to Andrew, and more importantly, we owe it to the law to stop this as soon as possible."
"What about you?" Mark asked.
"I'll go with you to the Wizengamot. You need the extra witness."
"And me?" Guadalupe asked, standing up as well.
"Come with me!" Julietta offered. "Come with me to Hogwarts."
"Brilliant. Sounds like a plan," Calliope said. "Now, let's get ready. We won't do ourselves any favors by looking – um – what's the word…"
"Crazy."
"Yes. Thank you, Mark."
Scurry, as soon as she got wind of what was going on, performed a rapidfire cleaning of the clothes they'd arrived in – and Mark asked Scurry to collect all the dust and pollen from off of the clothes into a little box. She complied, happy enough to have found a human who understood the importance of categorizing everything in neat little boxes.
So Mark stepped out in a clean blazer, collared shirt, and trousers. Hector was attired in his normal work clothes, with the sleeves rolled up, and Calliope wore a black skirt, grey blouse, and matching black jacket – which matched almost word for word the description of "her" outfit on the radio. Guadalupe teased her for it, and the witch snapped, "So I have a distinct personal style, what of it?"
Julietta had not changed her clothes, but when the others entered the library, she had three Galleons in her hand. "Last year some students ran this illegal club on campus – it was very glamorous – and they used coins with a Protean Charm on them to convey information. Here." She handed one coin each to Hector and Calliope, keeping one for herself. "We'll change the words on the coin if something drastic happens, you know, end of the world or suchlike. Heh. Heh."
"A Protean Charm. Very advanced," Calliope complimented her.
"Thank you… like I said, independent study…"
"Can you Apparate?"
"… no…"
"Have you worked out how you're going to get to Hogwarts?"
She paused for a long time, before saying, "Ride a thestral."
"A what?" Mark asked.
"A flying horse," Hector explained. "But Julietta, can you see—"
"Of course I can," she answered, though her face had gone chalk-white. "I've assisted at the Last Rites more times than I can count."
"Guadalupe can't see," Mark pointed out. "If she's going with you…"
"C'mon, I'll be fine if Julietta's fine." Guadalupe clapped Julietta on the back – though she looked less than fine.
"Then what's the problem?" Hector asked.
"I… don't like really bad heights. But I'll do it anyway! I'll do the flying anyway, I'll just close my eyes. I don't have to – direct a thestral, do I?"
"No, they know their own way. You'll be fine." Hector hugged her. "You're a very, very brave girl for doing this."
"Mmf. I know. Hold on. One more thing I have to do." She broke off from Hector and knelt at the table in front of the radio, pulling out her Tarot cards with trembling hands. When Calliope stood in front of her, Julietta said, "I'm listening, go on."
"So. You will take the thestral to Hogwarts. It's not far from here, I've flown the distance by broomstick many times. I'll – try – if the thestral can understand more complex commands – to send you to Dora Tonks – she's an Auror who guards the school. Tell her that Calliope sent you and that you need to speak to Dumbledore. If she insists, you can tell her what's happened, what your errand is. And tell Dumbledore everything. Do you understand?"
"Absolutely. Here." While Calliope had been talking, Julietta had been taking out certain cards and tapping them with her wand, turning them into rectangular pewter medallions hanging from black string. She handed the first of them to Calliope.
"The High Priestess?" she read aloud.
"Oh, and you'll need this one, too," she added, reaching up to give her the Hermit.
"I don't need a necklace."
"Look." Julietta glared up at her. "No arguing. Have you ever worn a Miraculous Medal, to remind you of the Virgin Mary and ask her to guide her?"
"No," Calliope answered flatly.
"I have!" Mark called from somewhere within the bookshelves.
"Think of it like an icon. Mr. Printzen, please come over here. I'll feel better if you have them. They'll help you – help you –"
"What?" Mark asked, standing by the table.
"It's right for you to have these. My cards told me so, earlier. Here." As if suddenly embarrassed, she turned scarlet as she handed Mark his medallion, then stood up to find Hector.
Mark's eyebrows went up. "The Hanged Man. Should I be worried?"
"Oh, I could never remember the meaning for that one," Calliope answered. "I got two. I'm worried. And the difference between these two, another thing I could never remember…" 'There's always something else to worry about…' "Mark – are you okay?" 'Control your nerves,' Calliope thought. 'He's just Mark. Anything he may have said earlier is – not quite so relevant now, no need to be nervous – '
"How are we going to get the thestral here?" Guadalupe demanded of Calliope.
"I've asked Scurry to set out a raw steak on the forest edge. But I'll go see if we've attracted one yet…" She emerged onto the lawn to find that, yes, a thestral had indeed taken the bait. Scurry was coaxing him, with magic of her own, onto the lawn.
"Well done, Scurry, excellently well-done," Calliope called to her house elf.
"Ahem."
Calliope turned to see that Guadalupe was glaring at her.
"Yes?"
"You," and the younger woman attempted to shoot daggers with her eyes, "had better take good care of him, you hear me?"
"You mean Mark?"
Nod.
""I – I was planning on doing exactly that," Calliope answered, quite confused.
"Good. Hey, Julietta!" Calliope turned to see that Julietta had arrived on the lawn, and was inching near the winged horse with a great of fear and trembling. Beyond her, Mark was talking to Hector, who was locking up the house, before they both jogged down the slope to join the women.
Mark and Guadalupe both looked on with great interest at Julietta's attempts to cajole the thestral into liking her, along the lines of "Nice pony" and "who's a pretty pony?"
Guadalupe started forward, and cheerfully volunteered to help Julietta mount the horse, asking first how tall it was.
With a start, Calliope remembered. "Oh – you can't see the thestral, can you?"
"Nope," Mark answered. "So I'm just that I'm watching my werewolf student help a terrified girl atop an invisible horse. An invisible horse, which she will ride to our rescue."
"Don't worry, the horse can fly," she said quickly. "Wait a moment. Hector, do you know 'Revelio Muggletum'?"
Hector willingly drew his wand and cast the spell on the thestral to allow Guadalupe and Mark to see it.
Guadalupe gave an appreciative whoop at the sight of the tall, gaunt, but strangely beautiful beast, which nickered a little in answer to her cry. "I'll see you later," she waved to Hector and Calliope, and blew a kiss to Mark.
Then strode to the thestral, and mounted it without a hitch. The thestral stretched its wings. It took off at a gallop and then soared into the sky, carrying the young women with it.
It was now only the three of them: Calliope, Hector, and Mark, on the green lawn.
"We're almost finished here, then," Hector said, as that kind of vague comment that people make when uncertain what to actually say.
Calliope swallowed. "Hector, will you give Mark and I a minute?"
He looked perplexed, then smiled. "Of course. I'll just… um… yeah." And he slipped away so quickly that Calliope realized he must have known something. And if he knew it than Andrew probably knew it. And that meant she had been locked out of the loop again when it was –
Right. Mark was right behind her. She turned around. He was looking out again at the hedge. "Wow. What a creature."
"… Yes. Quite." Her stomach knotted itself. "Mark, about what you said earlier…"
He looked at her. "Yes?" And it was so hard to go on. He looked hopeful.
'No, Calliope, you have to say this, you have to sort this out…'
"I don't want this to cause any misunderstanding – confusion – friction."
'He should make a joke about a thesaurus, please, Mark, joke about a thesaurus,' she thought. But he just nodded. 'Damn.'
"I mean, we can't be distracted with what we're about to do. And that's why – Mark, I'm…" she grit her teeth, why was this so hard to say? "I'm not in love with you."
He didn't say anything. She had to go on, "I mean, you're my friend, and I would never let you get hurt, ever, but I'm not in love with you. I just want to make that clear."
"Are you –" he asked in a breathless tenor, then cleared his throat and asked "Are you sure?" in a deeper, somewhat more grounded voice. "Are you sure you aren't just saying that because of the radio broadcast—"
"I'm saying this because it's the truth!" she burst out, then she drew back. Folded her arms. Took a deep breath. She was calm again. "That was louder than I intended… I'm sorry, Mark. Truly I am."
"For what?" he shrugged. "It's – well…"
"We'll talk about it more later," she said hurriedly.
"Yeah."
"I'm going to lock up the house."
"Okay."
And she walked away hurriedly, not looking back.
She passed by Hector, who glanced at her, then smiled at Mark. He walked up to the Muggle. "You did it, didn't you? I'm so proud! Good for you! This is…"
"Yes, I did. Please don't talk to me about it," Mark said flatly.
"… Oh. Oh, I'm sorry," Hector said, and he sounded like he meant it.
"Just don't talk about it."
"All right!" Calliope came back. "All locked up, and I've put Scurry on guard."
"Nothing left to do?"
"Just to Apparate."
"How do I Side-Along-Apparate with two people?" Mark asked hesitantly.
"Um… maybe like this," Hector offered. And he made a sort of knot out of the three of them, linking arms, with the witch and wizard linking arms behind Mark's back.
"Please tell me that this is utilizing some kind of esoteric geometric magic, and you're not just making it up as you go along," Mark hinted.
"Sorry," Hector mumbled. "But we should be ready now."
"Ministry of Magic, Atrium, right?" Calliope confirmed.
"Yes."
"Then…" She tightened her grip on Mark's arm, "Three…"
"Two…"
"One!"
The last word was spoken by all three, just as they vanished.