Chapter Sixteen: Horklumps and Retaliation

As Beth made her way down the hall towards Care of Magical Creatures, she could hear whispers rise and fall around her.

"That's the girl who hit Fred -- Slytherin --"

"Why, then?"

"Don't know. Fred's mad though."

She stormed ahead, her face dark and dangerous. Even the bright sun and clear sky couldn't lift her spirits as she strode across the muddy, slushy lawn to the paddock, where Professor Kettleburn had instructed them to meet.

Most of the students were already assembled when Beth reached the paddock. Several of the Gryffindors pulled back as she arrived. She was gratified to see that one of the Weasleys' cheeks was looking red and puffy. It serves them right, she thought.

Professor Kettleburn's wand-hand had changed into a trowel. As Beth took a closer look around, she saw that the ground inside the paddock was crowded with large pink mushrooms, each covered with black bristles.

"What happened at breakfast?" Melissa hissed into Beth's ear. Before Beth could reply, Professor Kettleburn had begun to speak.

"I came out to the paddock the other day and found it full of Horklumps," Kettleburn announced. "They'll overrun the school grounds if you leave 'em alone. I've got permission from Dumbledore to let you help clear 'em out. Grab some gloves and a trowel from the box."

The class swarmed over the box full of gloves, trying to pick out matching pairs. As Beth leaned down to get hers, she found herself across from the slapped Weasley. His eyes narrowed; she grabbed two mismatched gloves and jerked away, face burning again.

"Horklumps are a pest and nothing more. Only good is to feed 'em to gnomes. Anyone know how to get rid of the lot?"

Jordan, the Gryffindor with dreadlocks, raised his hand. "Streeler venom."

"Good," Kettleburn commended him gruffly. "Take five points for Gryffindor. We'll be using a weak solution of Streeler venom. Be careful not to get it on your skin, it'll burn somethin' fierce. Pour a drop on the Horklump at the roots, then get under it as fast as you can with the trowel. Got to get its tentacles out of the ground. We'll throw 'em in this bag; Professor Sprout wanted a few for her greenhouses, and I'll kill the rest after class. There are five vials of venom here, so share. Go on!" he barked, and the students jumped into action.

Beth took command of one of the vials of Streeler venom and attacked the Horklumps with a passion, dousing their rootlike tentacles until they shriveled into wiry brown twists. Bruce followed her at a safe distance, digging under the dying Horklumps and handing them to Melissa, who placed them in Kettleburn's big canvas bag and grimaced every time.

After an hour of crawling around the paddock on her hands and knees, Beth and the other students were sticky with sweat, and soaked through at the knees from melting snow and mud. Beth felt better than she had in hours. They threw their gloves back into the box and went back into the school.

"Oy, Parson. What d'you hit Fred for?" demanded an angry voice behind her. Beth stopped walking and turned around to see both Weasleys and their friend Jordan glaring at her. Melissa and Bruce appeared at her side in seconds.

"Probably one of your juvenile practical jokes," Melissa retorted, raising her chin defiantly.

"They never --" Jordan interrupted fiercely, but the unslapped Weasley silenced him with an elbow.

"For what?" the Weasley demanded again.

Beth felt her face contort. "For the feather, you -- slime!" she stammered. "Or was that too long ago for you to remember?"

The Weasleys looked at each other in plain surprise. "Feather?" wondered one, while the other said, "We've never enchanted quills, just wands."

"Does this ring a bell?" Beth snarled. She pulled the feather from the pocket of her robes, where it had been since the morning, and thrust it in the face of the closest Weasley. He stared at it -- which was difficult to do, since it was right between his eyes -- in genuine astonishment.

"Never seen it!" he avowed hastily.

"Just the Slytherins, trying to stir up trouble," Jordan growled, clenching his fists.

Melissa's voice rose to a high, insulted pitch. "Accusing us of making trouble!" Bruce moved forward protectively, staring down the belligerent Jordan.

"Liar!" Beth spat. She threw the feather to the ground and made a grab for her wand. The unslapped Weasley lunged for her wand arm, missed, and fell into Bruce, who threw him down in an admirable tackle and followed him down swinging his fists. Jordan leapt into the fray. Melissa drew her wand at the same time as the other Weasley; she took aim at Jordan, who was getting pounded into the ground. The other Weasley pointed his wand at Melissa, and Beth swept her wand toward him.

Three voices cried out at once, over the grunts of battle nearby, and a shower of sparks rained on the three. There was a shriek and clouds of smoke billowed from someone's wand.

"WHAT IS THIS?" a voice bellowed. Professor Kettleburn came plowing into the struggle. "Dissoluso," he snapped, with a wave of his wand-hand, and the fog cleared away.

Jordan lay sprawled on the ground, covered in big blue spots from head to toe. Bruce and the Weasley scrambled away from him, fearful that the spots would turn out to be contagious.

"Is everyone all right?" Kettleburn demanded.

"No," said Jordan, who in addition to the blue spots had a nice black one forming over one eye.

Melissa was clutching her throat. "Od gibber adden dilly," she complained. Her eyes grew wide. "Diggen an dun der mi motten? Dom filkie Weasleys grattum a figgle norman!"

The Weasley that was still standing snorted, hand covering his mouth.

"The lot of you!" Kettleburn cried in exasperation. "Anyone else? They're bloody fools to put you folks in the same class!"

"I got hit," the standing Weasley admitted, his hand still over his face. Between his fingers, a bright green could be glimpsed. Beth watched, fascinated, as the thin tendril of a vine crept under his hand and wove upward, sprouting leaves. He took his hand away.

A bunch of creeping vines sprouted from his nostrils, getting longer and leafier by the moment. It framed his face in an oddly aesthetic contrast to his red hair. There was a stunned pause, and then a chorus of coughing as everyone tried to hide their laughter. "Byun, wiggen a cod a hiddy minesuf," Melissa snarled, looking pleased.

Only Kettleburn did not look startled -- just irritated. "Anyone else? No? You three get to the infirmary, quick like. You three are coming to see Dumbledore."

Beth snatched the feather from the ground. She exchanged a despairing glance with Bruce as they followed Kettleburn inside. That left two Slytherins and a Gryffindor; different odds than the three-on-three it had started out. Her stomach started to sink. She'd never been to Dumbledore's office in all her years.

Her mind going over terrible outcomes of the situation, Beth nearly walked past the office after everyone had stopped. "Wait here." Kettleburn went inside, shaking his head.

"I hope you lot get it for this," the Weasley hissed. "Always creeping around, always making fun of everybody else."

"Talk about making fun of everyone else," Beth answered savagely, not keeping her voice down. "You've got a pretty good Snape impression yourselves."

Kettleburn stepped back into the hallway and ushered them into the office. "Five seconds, and yer at it again," he said gruffly. Beth's heart started to beat fast within her chest. She felt no better when Kettleburn left and closed the door behind him.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking very stern. Beth felt her stomach clench.

"Tell me why you did this."

There was a moment of silence. Then Bruce started: "The Gryffindors were accusing us of making trouble, so we --"

"Well, they were all ganging up on us --" the Weasley argued.

"They were in a group, see, Jordan looked like he was going to kill Beth --"

"Parson beat up my brother in the cafeteria!"

Dumbledore raised one gnarled hand and the clamor slowly died down. "Is this true?" he asked Beth gravely. She nodded, her mouth dry.

"Why?"

Beth swallowed once. "Look what they sent me." She pulled the inscribed feather from her pocket and laid it on Dumbledore's desk. He lifted it up and peered at it keenly, as if his piercing eyes could perceive its past and future. He ran his finger over the white length several times. Then he fixed his gaze on the Weasley. Beth thought that she would hate to be the recipient of that bright stare, so she kept her head lowered.

"Did you have this delivered to Miss Parson?" he asked quietly.

"No sir."

Dumbledore turned to Beth. "Your mother did not send this?"

She stiffened. "No, sir, my mother is dead," she replied coldly.

The Weasley looked at her in surprise.

The Headmaster sat back in his high carved chair, fingering the feather lightly. "Then its origin must remain a secret," he said simply. "I must believe Mr. Weasley's statement." Bruce opened his mouth to protest, but must have thought better of it. "There is no proof against him, and it has been my experience that the Weasley twins are ordinarily all too eager to confess to their crimes. However," he continued gravely, leaning forward again, "fighting on school grounds is not to be tolerated. That will be ten points from your Houses, for each of you, and your cohorts in the infirmary as well. Understand that if such a thing ever happens again, I must take harsher action." He smiled suddenly. "Now go back to your studies. Or the infirmary -- I'm sure that Madame Pomfrey has quite mended your handiwork by now."

Bruce and the Weasley nearly pushed each other over as they tried to exit at the same time, not looking each other in the face. Beth followed them.

"Miss Parson."

Beth turned back around, and her heart jumped nervously. "Yes, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore handed her the feather. She reached out and took it, a little unwillingly. "I heard the delivery of this message this morning while I was brushing my teeth. It was an albatross. They tell me it terrified the owls, and it made me get toothpaste on my beard. Oh yes -- happy birthday."

Too late, Beth thought, but she forced herself to smile. "Thank you."

***

Beth caught up with Melissa and Bruce in the infirmary. The Gryffindors had already left, although a pile of green leaves and vines marked the cot where the stricken Weasley had been treated. They exited together, arguing over whether it was fair to take points from the houses of people who had been cursed. Beth and Melissa left Bruce in the common room and went up the staircase to the girls' dorms.

In the privacy of their bedroom, Beth told Melissa what Dumbledore had said. She pulled out the feather as if presenting proof.

"... And I believe him, that the Weasleys didn't send it," she admitted, running a blush. "I mean, Dumbledore knows what he's doing. Besides, I don't think they knew about my mother, you know. The one looked kind of surprised when I said it."

Melissa sat on the edge of her bed and bounced up and down thoughtfully. "But if it wasn't the Weasleys, who did send it?"

Beth turned the feather over in her hands a few times before leaning over to shut it away in a dresser drawer.

"I wish I knew."