Jill, Bagsy's rat, had passed away, so Mezrielda's terrifying eagle owl had the good sense to behave itself when it delivered its letter to her.
Bagsy was sitting on an armchair in her room, sniffling. The walls were plastered with designs and inventions, the majority of which were rat themed. Jill, one of Bagsy's pet rats, had taken ill when she'd returned home after her second year at Hogwarts. Jill loved to run about and explore, but she'd lost the energy in her back legs, and Bagsy had created a small contraption of wheels to allow her to move about.
Unfortunately, as the summer dragged on, and the weather grew hotter, Jill's condition had worsened.
Now Bagsy was holding a shoe box on her lap, lovingly wrapped in ribbon and coloured paper, with 'Jill' painted in gold on the top. That morning she'd found Jill curled up in one of the hammocks Bagsy had made for her. Bill had tried nuzzling Jill awake and Bagsy had tried coaxing her back to the waking world with food, but Jill had remained still.
Bill, Bagsy's other rat, who had always been the lazy one, was old but in good health and sat snuggled next to the shoebox, chattering mournfully.
Mezrielda's eagle owl – who had always wanted to eat Bagsy's rats – eyed the shoe box hungrily, but only obediently held out its talons, presenting Bagsy with a letter from her friend. He didn't even make a grab for Bill, who wouldn't have been quick enough to escape.
Bagsy thanked Mezrielda's owl, giving him a treat, before opening the letter. Mezrielda sent her condolences, decreeing that Jill was perhaps the most energetic and intelligent rat she'd ever met, and that should Bagsy want to come and stay at her home for a few days to be in good company, she could. Mezrielda didn't specify who constituted the current bad company but given how much Bagsy complained about her parents in her responses she didn't need to.
Bagsy's sister, as nice as she'd been to her over the summer, was busy at the Ministry, not to mention that Bontie now looked at her with something like pity or dread in her eyes and Bagsy didn't like it or understand where it had come from.
She sent a thank you letter back with Mezrielda's owl, who shot a last wistful look at Bill and the shoe box, before swooping out of her bedroom window. Bagsy had grown a bit since last year, but so had Mezrielda's owl, and she was still unsure if it thought she was for dinner or not. The way it looked at her sometimes she was certain he thought she was an oversized mouse.
Pulling on a nice set of robes, Bagsy picked Bill up and lowered the old girl into one of her pockets gently. Bagsy had taken to adding all sorts of pockets to her robes to conceal her latest inventions – Bontie had joked she looked like some odd wanderer, her entire house piled into her robe, with pockets that could accommodate her mag-net bat and ball, or the torch she'd been given by the muggle boy the year before.
Once downstairs Bagsy searched through the cupboards. Her parents would be up in their rooms, working on their inventions or potion recipes, so Bagsy would have to say goodbye alone. She fished out an old shovel covered in dust. If anyone else in the family wanted to dig, they'd simply cast a spell, unlike Bagsy, who still struggled to perform the most basic of magics.
She went outside and set to digging. Once a decent sized hole had formed in the ground, she lowered the shoebox into it. It didn't feel right covering up the hole right away so Bagsy left Bill to guard it whilst she popped to Diagon Alley. Bill sat by the hole, not snoozing for once in her life; just staring blankly at the shoebox.
Bagsy used Floo powder to reach Diagon Alley. Rushing past the usual shops, she turned onto Exception Alley and reached Strangling Vines and Twisting Twines. It was a tiny shop, big enough for the owner and one costumer, made only more cramped by the plants elbowing each other for space, and sunlight seemed sucked away from the neighbouring buildings as if the store was a vacuum for brightness.
Bagsy awkwardly shuffled her way past the hugging ferns and smiled shyly at the owner. 'Do you have any apple trees?' she asked as leafy tendrils tried to grip her arms and she slapped them off in a mild panic.
The owner, a squat man with long, wispy grey hair and tiny eyes, nodded. 'Yes. We have a poison apple tree, ready to go.'
'P-poison?' Bagsy squeaked. 'Don't you have any… non-lethal apple trees?'
'It's not lethal, just deeply dangerous, and highly likely to kill you.'
'Oh…'
The man cracked a smile. 'I'm kidding, it's only mildly irritating to the stomach. Makes your spine stiff as a board for an hour or so, but nothing worse than that. Pairs well with spirit acid if you have any you can add to it and want half a chance at getting an animated tree. Do you want to buy it?'
'Y-yes…' Bagsy stammered, forcing a smile, and not feeling brave enough to ask what on earth spirit acid was.
Having paid for the tree, she hurried home, clutching the small sapling to her chest, its bark a deep brown and its leaves a jewel green.
When Bagsy walked down the garden she saw Bill sitting in the same spot she'd left her, as if she hadn't moved a muscle. Eldritch, Bagsy's tawny owl who was so fluffy he looked like a teddy bear, was standing guard over the elderly rat, having returned from his hunting in the woods. Bill looked heart-broken without her buddy, Jill.
'I know,' Bagsy murmured sadly, stroking the top of Bill's head with one of her fingers. She lowered the tree carefully into the hole, placing it on top of the shoe box, before filling it in. She gave the tree a quick watering, noting down its species so she could research what care it needed, and then stood back to look at her work. 'She was a good girl,' Bagsy announced. Bill chirped. 'Yes, you're right,' she agreed with Bill. 'She was the goodest of girls.'
Bagsy packed a bag, changed into comfortable traveling clothes, placed Bill in one of her pockets, Eldritch on one of her shoulders, and decided she'd head to Mezrielda's. She paused as she passed her father's door. Was it even worth knocking? She'd only get a magical repetition of her father's voice telling her not to disturb him. Last time, Bagsy's father had told her to just do what she wanted and not bother him. Florentchia, her mother, probably felt the same way, too.
It took her half an hour of agonising over the decision before she settled on not telling her parents where she was going. Instead, she walked down to the fireplace in the living room and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. 'Vespite Manor!' she announced, throwing the powder down and igniting flames around her. Green fire shimmered in front of her eyes. When she blinked the fire was gone, and she found herself looking onto a red and black gothic room. Black armchairs with red spikes for decoration, paintings of men and women with pointy features from what looked like the sixteenth century, and an extravagantly patterned crimson rug greeted her.
The paintings whispered conspiratorially to each other, eying Bagsy with sharp, mistrusting eyes. As nice as the room and the furniture was, Bagsy couldn't help but notice how old, worn and dusty everything appeared. The wall paper was falling off, there were cracks running up and down the walls, and cobwebs filled every corner. The paintings were faded and torn, and shafts of light filtered through small cracks in the ceiling. Bagsy was sure she saw a bat flutter past at one moment and given the freezing draft that blew through the room she wouldn't be surprised if it had flown in through a hole somewhere.
Hearing the hushed noise of conversation in the next room, Bagsy moved towards an old wooden door that seemed far too small for the door frame, and barely clung to its hinges. Easily peeping through the gaping gaps at the sides, Bagsy saw into a large, extravagant dining room – only, it looked as if three hundred years had passed since it had looked respectable. Men, women, and adults sat on miss-matched chairs that swayed from side to side on their crumbling legs, and leant on a long, oak dining table that was crooked and covered in dents and stains. Bagsy couldn't describe how, but her eyes knew the people weren't really there. They were some kind of strange, magical illusion projected into the room from wherever it was they were actually sitting – perhaps miles and miles away.
Bagsy saw Dantura and Palid Glint, Mezrielda's parents, sitting at the head of the table, looking grave. Unlike the others, Bagsy could tell Dantura and Palid were really there. She had found out at the end of last year that Mezrielda was adopted, and that Dantura and Palid Glint were vampires. They were only allowed to raise Mezrielda because it was a trial-run to decide whether or not all vampires should be legally allowed to adopt.
'How recently did this happen?' Dantura asked in a low voice, tapping his white fingers with long, black nails on the table. Mezrielda's parents had skin as pale as bone.
'A few days ago,' one of the men answered. He was bald. 'The inferno conscription, they call it.'
A shudder ran up and down the table, accompanied by worried mutterings.
'We all remember what happened during the last conscription,' a young-looking but old-sounding woman hissed in worry, pulling a baggy robe around herself, hiding her face in the deep shadows of its oversized hood. Others nodded their agreement.
'We'll need to make arrangements,' Dantura decided. 'Do they have any records on the ones they want yet?'
'No,' the woman answered.
'We have no way of knowing what they're looking for beyond and association with fire, and that does not narrow it down much.'
'Actually…' Palid spoke up politely. 'There was an incident at the end of the school year just gone,' Mezrielda's mother began, 'our daughter was involved. We received a letter explaining what had happened.'
'You're not sending her back there, are you?' the bald man asked, aghast. 'That school has little protections for regular spellcasters.'
'Not everyone can have immortal children,' the woman who'd spoken earlier snapped at the bald man, who shrugged her off.
'Professor Fitzsimmons visited us in person,' Dantura explained. 'We've decided to continue her enrolment even… if it's against our original judgement.'
Palid nodded firmly. 'Mezrielda can handle herself,' she said, confidently.
Bagsy blinked in surprise – Mezrielda had mentioned nothing of this to her in her letters. Perhaps she didn't know. 'My point,' Palid continued, 'is that we heard from our daughter what happened – and I think I know exactly why this new conscription is coming in.'
'Why, then, Palid? Tell us,' the bald man urged her.
Something cold and rigid grabbed Bagsy's shoulder, who let out a loud yelp of surprise. Hauled onto the floor and pinned down, fear raced Bagsy's heart a mile a minute. Eldritch shot off of her shoulder in surprise and Bagsy bared a second's thought to make sure she hadn't crushed Bill by mistake.
'Spot?' Dantura called questioningly from the dining room, his footsteps approaching.
Bagsy looked up into the gnarled, chipped and ancient stone face of the Glint's family gargoyle – Spot. The gargoyle bared his teeth at her and thrashed his broken tail, flapping his stone wings intimidatingly.
The too-small door was thrown open and Mr Glint laid eyes on what was happening. 'Spot, release her,' Dantura instructed. Spot stepped off Bagsy, pacing around her like a hungry shark. Dantura helped Bagsy off of the floor and onto her feet, dusting her shoulders. 'I am very glad you took up Mezrielda's invitation, Bagsy.' He smiled down at her, flashing his fanged teeth, not asking why she'd been eavesdropping. Bagsy glanced over at the dining room and only saw Palid there. The other people had vanished, whatever illusion Bagsy's eyes had picked up on was gone.
Palid rushed over and wrapped Bagsy in a hug, who let out another surprised yelp. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you!' Palid cried, picking her off her feet with surprising strength for such a skinny woman – especially given how stocky Bagsy was becoming.
'T-thank you?' Bagsy repeated in confusion as Palid finally put her down.
Dantura fixed her with a cold look which was eerily similar to Mezrielda's. 'Of course. You saved our daughter, Bagsy.'
Bagsy opened her mouth, then shut it. Suddenly, the large room felt very small indeed, and all the red colours seemed sticky and gooey and far too close. 'Can I go outside for a bit?' she asked in a small voice. Palid and Dantura looked at her silently, then nodded in quiet unison. It was rather unnerving.
'Spot.' Dantura nodded at the gargoyle who reluctantly, and with loathing looks, led her outside.
Once Bagsy was standing amongst the barren, grey trees, thorn thickets and weeds that surrounded the dark mansion, she felt much better. Vespite Manor was situated on a cliff overlooking the sea, and the wide expanse of the horizon, and cool blue of the ocean, soothed the horrid dizzy feeling that had settled into the back of her mind.
Looking back at the Glint's home, Bagsy felt silly for feeling trapped within it. It was massive and riddled with gaping holes and collapsed ceilings that left the bare sky peering into the building. It was possibly the least claustrophobic place a person could reside in. It was gothic, grey and creepy, though. Maybe that had been the problem.
Bagsy glanced down at the weeds around her. They were either dim green or black-grey, except for a small thicket a few paces away from her which were such a pale blue they seemed almost white. Her shoes crunching over dead grass and plants, she walked over to them and saw that they were dripping with blue, viscous liquid that splattered onto the dry dirt.
'Those are weeping weeds,' Mezrielda's quiet voice sounded behind Bagsy, who startled and turned to her friend.
Bagsy couldn't help smiling. 'Hi,' she said.
'How are you?'
Bagsy shrugged. 'I'm okay. I miss Jill.'
'I can imagine,' Mezrielda hummed, looking down at the plants. 'Do you know why they cry?' Bagsy shook her head. 'Because they're forgotten. They had a name, and a purpose, but people forgot what it was, so they cry.'
'That's really sad,' Bagsy murmured.
'You won't forget Jill, though.'
Bagsy smiled weakly. 'No. I won't.'
'Come inside, Bagsy, I'll show you to your room.'
