Chapter 27

Saturday, November 23, 1991-Quiddich Pitch, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Somewhere in Scotland

The spectators were packed into the stands like sardines. Almost the entire school had shown up for the first Quiddich match of the season. Even Patricia had gotten out of the Hospital Wing in time to watch.

It was Gryffindor verses Slytherin after all.

"And they're off!" Lee shouted from the commentator's box as the fourteen red and green robed players shot into the air.

It was his first year doing the commentary. Patricia was at the game as much to cheer him on as she was to cheer for Fred, George and Harry.

The game was going well, Gryffindor was ahead by fifty points and Fred (or was that George? It was hard to tell during Quidditch matches) had made Pucey drop the Quaffle twice by sending a Bludger at his head.

Then Harry's broom went mad.

"That is not normal," Patricia said incredulously as they watched Harry being thrown around by his new Nimbus. "Is it trying to throw him off?"

"I think so," Grace said. "Must be cursed or jinxed or something."

Fred and George were attempting to grab Harry and pull him onto one of their own brooms, but Harry's broom kept dodging them with violent jerks. Soon they gave up and began flying just underneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

On the other end of the pitch, Flint got hold of the Quaffle and scored thrice without anyone noticing before Wood grabbed a discarded beater's bat and shot both Bludgers towards him, also without anyone noticing.

Grace stopped looking at Harry, who was somehow still managing to hang on, and started scanning the crowd with her binoculars.

"If it's a jinx whoever's casting it won't be breaking eye contact," Violet told her, watching what was going on through her fingers.

Patricia and Noe screamed. Harry's broom had given a violent buck and almost thrown him off completely. He was hanging on with one hand. Fred and George circled as close as they could without the broom running away from them. Violet shrieked and covered her eyes completely.

"Look!" Grace exclaimed. "Right below us, Professor Quirrell—Oh!" She laughed. Laughed!

"What is it?" Patricia asked anxiously.

"Granger just knocked him face first into the next row," Grace giggled.

"Has the broom stopped trying to throw him off?" Violet asked.

It had. However a few moments later Harry dove down and landed on his hands and knees on the pitch. He put a hand over his mouth like all the bucking had made him sick, but then held the Snitch above his head triumphantly.

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Lee shouted.

Three quarters of the crowd burst into cheers.

"We should tell Professor Flitwick about Quirrell," Patricia said grimly. "And Professor Babbling, she'll believe us."

"What about Professor McGonagall?" Noe asked.

"She's got her hands full at the moment," Grace said.

Professor McGonagall was trying to handle Lee, who had flown unaided seven feet into the air via accidental magic upon announcing the Gryffindor win. Accidental magic, at his age. Honestly.

They caught up with Professor Babbling first. Once she was able to decode their frantic whispering she was barely able to stop herself from groaning.

"It's always the Defence professor," she lamented. "I'll bring this to the Headmaster right away, girls. As I assume the Gryffindors will be having a party with a great deal of chaos and noise, I'd suggest gatecrashing to keep an eye on Potter."

"Yes, Professor Babbling," Patricia said.

They headed up to Gryffindor Tower, where the Fat Lady spent a whole minute staring at them after Patricia gave the password.

"You are not Gryffindors," she said decidedly.

"We're Ravenclaws," Grace said impatiently. "Professor Babbling told us to come here."

"Don't you have your own tower?"

Patricia crossed her arms. "We have the password, and students are allowed to visit other common rooms as long as they're back with their House by curfew, it's in the school rules."

It wasn't.

"No one follows the rules," the Fat Lady pointed out, quite correctly. "Run along, girls."

Patricia pursed her lips and turned on her heel. "Fine. We've got a project to work on anyway."

"We do?" Violet whispered.

"Yes, we do," Patricia said. "We need a way to send messages instantly."

"Mirrors," Grace suggested immediately. "Reflective surfaces have been used for communication since Merlin."

"If we're including the twins we'll need something less breakable," Violet said.

"We've got some books in the common room that should help," Noe said.

"Right," Patricia said, "common room then. Let's go, we've only got seven hours to figure this out."

"What happens in seven hours?" Grace wanted to know.

"I get frustrated and break into the Gryffindor common room," Patricia replied.

Well, they couldn't let that happen.


Saturday, November 23, 1991-The Headmaster's office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Somewhere in Scotland

Dumbledore folded his hands on top of his desk. "Would that be all, Bathsheda?"

Bathsheda Babbling's face reddened. "'All'?" she repeated through gritted teeth. "Quirrell just tried to kill a student! This is worse than the one that brought a dragon to class!"

Beneath her fingers, Dumbledore's desk began to char. Dumbledore watched the smoke rising with a look of amusement.

"You're becoming more and more like your mother aren't you, Bathsheda?"

Bathsheda whipped her hands off the desk. "Do something about Quirrell, headmaster, or we'll find ourselves in need of a new Defense professor."

She turned and stormed out of the office, hopefully not to go find Quirrell and throw a fireball at his head.

Dumbledore sat back in his desk and sighed. "The Defense teachers get worse every year, don't they Fawks? It is a pity 'Professor Darrow' wasn't able to come back, but more than a year was too much of a risk."

Fawks gave a trill of agreement from his perch.

Dumbledore sighed again. Then he waved his wand to summon several of his many books and settled in for a long night of reading. There had been something wrong with Quirrell since he got back from his sabbatical; it was long past time to figure out what.


Saturday, November 23, 1991-Gryffindor third year boys' dormitory, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Somewhere in Scotland

Fred was woken up from his post-party dozing by the sound of an owl knocking on the window. He got up, still half asleep, and pushed the window open to let the owl in. When he saw the white bird he was immediately wide awake.

"Whazzit?" Lee asked, yawning.

"It's from Patricia," Fred said.

Benvolio hooted as Lee and George jumped up at once to crowd around him. He held out his foot so that Fred could untie the letter he carried.

"What does it say?" George asked.

"I'm getting there." Fred opened the letter and came out with a standard sheet of parchment that was completely blank except for the seemingly decorative border that had been inked in. "What?"

Benvolio hooted again and flew back out the window.

"Hey," George yelled after the owl, "don't we get a hint or something?"

As Kenneth Towler had fallen asleep in the common room (and then had a curly mustache grown on his face and his eyebrows turned purple, not that he needed to know that), Fred didn't hesitate to take out his wand and touch the tip of it to the parchment. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Nothing happened.

"Let me try," George said, taking the parchment from his twin. "Mischief managed?"

Still nothing.

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure?" Lee suggested. "She is a Ravenclaw."

Before they could try it, writing began running across the top of the parchment.

"Saturday, November 23, 1991

Testing, please respond. -Patricia

Just write on the parchment. -Grace"

Fred, George and Lee looked at each other.

A violent scramble to be the first to grab a quill and ink ensued.

"Ha!" George said, having emerged victorious.

He scribbled quickly on the parchment: "What in the name of Merlin's favourite boxers did you do?"

"Who is this?-Patricia"

Fred gave George a lighthearted slap on the back of his head. "You have to sign your name, idiot."

"I knew that," George said.

"This is George.-George

You're sure it isn't Fred?-Patricia

Pretty sure.-Gred

That'll do.-Patricia"

Fred pushed George to the side.

"So, what did you do?-Fred

It was Patricia's idea.-Violet

It always is.-George"

"Don't I get a turn?" Lee complained.

"I don't know," Fred said.

"You might fly away with it," George added.

"Very funny," Lee said, reaching around Fred with his own quill.

"Runes, I assume?-Lee

Elvish.-Patricia

What?-Lee

Long story.-Patricia

Best not to ask.-Grace

It's basically runes and a charm we found. We had to experiment a little.-Noe

The Fat Lady wouldn't let us into your common room.-Patricia

Why did you want to get into the common room?-Fred

Quirrell tried to kill Harry during the Quidditch match. Professor Babbling told us to keep an eye on him.-Patricia"

"What!?" Fred, George and Lee exclaimed. George wrote as fast as he could.

"What did he do?-George

Jinxed Harry's broom. Granger took care of him but (Patricia wrote this but was interrupted by Grace.)

but he's the Defense professor.-Grace

We'll look out for Harry.-George

I guess we're getting rid of Quirrell too?-Lee

Professor Babbling sent an owl to tell us that Professor Dumbledore's taking care of him.-Violet

But he's the Defense professor.-Grace

Just because Geoff (This was written by Violet, but Patricia took their parchment away from her before she could finish.)

We'll talk properly tomorrow. You know how to hide these messages.-Patricia

Yes. Goodnight.-Lee"

The boys put their quills down.

George picked up his wand. "Mischief managed," he tried.

The words on the parchment ran up into the border and disappeared.

"This is wicked," Lee said. "Way faster than owls."

"Not as cool as the map," Fred said, "but still cool."

"Who's going to hang onto it?" George asked.

They looked at each other. Then Lee took the parchment and hid it in his trunk under the bag of crickets that were for his tarantula.

"You two are likely to blow it up," he said.

Fred and George shrugged. "Guilty."