Chapter 30: Camerons Felled
PRESENT: LATE FEBRUARY, A FEW DAYS LATER
Meli had learned that Dumbledore, kind as he was, was often given to the making of strange requests; she had also learned that the stranger Dumbledore's request, the more urgent it was that she find some way to comply with it. The headmaster was a great strategical thinker, and an odd request invariably (at least of late) camouflaged a more serious matter. Thus, when he asked her to come to his office for tea at three o'clock in the morning, she willingly assented, though she could not see what possible purpose it would serve.
Restlessness forced her from her quarters early, and she found herself wandering the dungeons nearly an hour before the appointed time. On consulting her watch, she found that it was time for either Snape or Zarekael to be tending to their vital potion, and, rather than wander in the boring company of her own thoughts, she turned her steps toward the Potions room.
Sure enough, she found Zarekael standing over the cauldron, slowly adding some sort of light blue powder to the happily bubbling brew. He glanced up at her entrance, then, once he could turn his attention fully to her, nodded in greeting.
"Good morning, Meli," he said wryly. "You would seem to be either very early or very late."
"Early, as it happens," she replied. "I'm due to have tea with Dumbledore in just over half an hour."
Zarekael raised an amused eyebrow. "Tea?" he repeated.
Meli shrugged. "I hadn't the heart to tell him his watch was twelve hours off," she quipped. "Besides, when he makes an eccentric request, he generally has a reason that eventually becomes clear. Perhaps he decided to have tea with every teacher individually, and I'll be dropping in just after Vector and before Sprout."
The other smirked. "Perhaps so," he conceded.
"And just imagine the work the house elves are going to for it all," she continued. "Why, they must be near-frantic. Poor Dobby has probably had to remove his socks to prevent a trip that would break his neck." Now she, too, smirked. "Although if he hasn't, and so does turn up dead, I'm sure there are some who would breathe a sigh of relief."
"Yes," Zarekael allowed. "But Miss Granger's efforts to free the house elves would experience a sudden check at the loss of her best spokeself."
"Pity."
Both fell silent for a moment, and Meli's attention was drawn to another sound that she had not before picked up on: Zarekael had music playing in the background.
"Is this . . . Beethoven?" she asked.
The Potions apprentice, who had been methodically grinding some root that Meli did not immediately recognize, looked up in mild surprise. "Yes," he confirmed. "His Ninth Symphony."
Meli nodded. "I haven't heard it for awhile," she said, "though now that you say that, I recognize it perfectly—the second movement. I would have known the fourth movement immediately; I admit to being something of a Beethoven diehard."
"I like much of Beethoven's work," Zarekael replied. "In particular, his Fifth Symphony. But when working at potions, I find that lighter music is better."
"Ah." Meli nodded. Beethoven's Fifth; naturally. "I find that to be true when I'm preparing lesson plans. The Pachelbel Canon has pulled me through many a lecture on vampires."
He was clearly amused but said nothing as he finished his grinding and poured the root into the potion. The brew changed to a sickening brownish-purple and gave off a pungent scent. Unperturbed, Zarekael picked up a handful of leaves to his left and dropped them in, as well. The color gradually shifted to kelly green as the leaves dissolved, and the odor soon faded away.
Zarekael watched the brew for another moment, then glanced at his watch. "That should simmer for at least an hour," he said.
"Time for a short nap, at least," Meli remarked.
He narrowed his eyes in amusement. "No," he replied. "I have more time than that; it's Severus' turn in an hour."
Meli smiled. "Well, it's time I was off to tea," she said. "Sleep well, my friend."
Something in his expression indicated that there was an irony to the situation of which she was unaware. He nodded, however, and accompanied her to the door, where they parted ways.
She made it to Dumbledore's office without incident, but no sooner had he opened the door to admit her than the bottom of her stomach dropped like an express lift bound for the basement.
There, seated near the fireplace, were a slim, calculating dark-haired man and his slim, calculating, fair-haired wife, sipping tea as though there was nothing at all strange in the world. Their robes seemed a touch disheveled, and their hands shook slightly, but otherwise they could have been neighbors dropping in for tea and crumpets at two in the afternoon.
"I hope you'll forgive us for starting early, Meli," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling madly, "but our guests needed to fortify themselves; they've had a bit of an ordeal."
Meli nodded mechanically, but no part of her mind could quite wrap itself around the surreal scene before her. "Er, no, sir. I understand perfectly," she lied. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. and Mrs. Fell."
They smiled then and set down their tea, but, on closer observation, she could see that they were still shaking too hard to stand safely. Mr. Fell, in particular, was quite pale.
"Hello, Meli," he said. "Sorry for dropping in on you like this; it wasn't exactly planned this way—well, not by us, anyway," he amended, darting a narrow glance at Dumbledore.
Nonplused, Meli also looked to Dumbledore, who smiled and invited her to have a seat. She did so mutely, her full attention riveted now to the headmaster.
"As you doubtless already know," Dumbledore began, "when Voldemort returned, all of the Fells, with the exception of Donald, went into hiding."
Meli nodded. Donald had fully estranged himself from his family, so, whether or not he actually was safe, he believed himself to be so.
"And as you know, Myrddin and Alexandra"—here Dumbledore nodded to the newly-arrived and still-rattled pair by the fire—"hid themselves so completely that no one could reasonably find them."
Meli smirked bitterly in understanding. "Unfortunately," she remarked, "Lucius Malfoy is a most unreasonable individual."
"Lucius Malfoy, eh?" Mr. Fell arched a calculating eyebrow. "At least now I know who to send the bill to."
"He ruined my new draperies!" Mrs. Fell said grumpily. "And I'm sure he set fire to the house just for the fun of it once we were gone."
Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, he is quite unreasonable. And so Myrddin and Alexandra found their well-secured home under attack not two hours ago."
Meli looked narrowly at the Fells. "Portkeys are a bit out of your style," she observed, "and last I checked, there's no way to apparate through Hogwarts' wards. So if you'll pardon my asking, how did you come to be here?"
In answer, each of the Fells drew a glass item out of a cloak pocket.
"There were eight attacking Death Eaters," Mrs. Fell told her. "We counted them ourselves. But only seven showed on our foe glass. Then one of them got through ahead of the others and handed these to us. He said we were to give them only to you. Almost as soon as the rest of the Death Eaters came into the room, he shouted a curse in our direction, and then we suddenly appeared here."
It can't have been Zarekael. He's potion-sitting. "What are they?" Meli asked.
"Paperweights," Mr. Fell replied. He ventured to stand now and handed both his and his wife's to Meli. "He said, 'Give these to Ebony,' so there you are."
Meli examined them and had to keep herself from laughing. There, trapped in the glass, were a rampant lion and a much smaller unicorn. These were unmistakably Snape's troublesome paperweights.
She looked up, her eyes deadly serious. "I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything about this to anyone else," she said quietly.
Both Fells nodded, and she knew that they were forming hypotheses in their heads at a terrific rate. Let them, she thought. They have no way of knowing nearly enough to arrive at a correct solution.
"Do you believe they were activated by the curse?" she asked.
Mrs. Fell nodded again. "The curse itself never hit us," she replied, then added dryly, "For which I'm very thankful. It was the Curse of a Thousand Swords."
It was a terrible struggle, but Meli kept all traces of shock from her face as she deposited the paperweights in her pocket. That was not a curse Snape would ordinarily have used or even thought of; anything involving cutting and stabbing lay in Zarekael's arena. Yet Zarekael couldn't have been at the Fells'; he was minding the potion!
It stood to reason, then, that while Snape had used the portkeys, Zarekael had created them, which meant in turn that he had known from the beginning exactly what she would find when she arrived at Dumbledore's office.
You little sneak, she thought in admiration. We were having a perfectly normal conversation, and all the time you knew!
"An ingenious way of activating a portkey," she said faintly.
"Now, of course, the question is where to go from here," Mr. Fell said. "We have another safe house ready, but, as Professor Dumbledore pointed out before you arrived, if Malfoy found our best hideaway, he can find our second best, too."
An idea sparked to life in Meli's head, and she exchanged glances with Dumbledore. "Sir, I believe there may be another option."
Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again. "By all means, bring her up," he replied.
Meli smiled and excused herself, then made a mad dash to Ravenclaw Tower, where Andrea's guest quarters were located. In rousing the Auror she created a racket fit to wake the dead, but at last the door opened to reveal a disgruntled face beneath a halo of frizzed curls. "This had better be good," Andrea growled. "It's three-thirty in the morning."
"You've got to come," Meli whispered, already dragging her down the corridor. "I'll explain as soon as I can."
Something in her voice must have resembled the call of duty, for Andrea became instantly alert and followed her rapidly back to the headmaster's office. On their arrival, the Auror was introduced to the very people whose daughter was of primary interest to her. What the Fells made of her even Meli couldn't say, but she certainly cut an amusing figure in her blue-and-black checked pajamas and pink bunny slippers. Her method of handling the situation as it unfolded showed her for a serious and thoughtful individual, however, so the Fells were reasonably disposed to entrust their immediate safety to her.
"They'll need to be gone by morning," Andrea stated at one point. "I can't arrange a house that soon, but . . . hm. Hold on." She tapped her watch, and the hands rearranged themselves. "It's nine-thirty in Reglan." She looked to the Fells. "Could you handle staying with the Cleaver family for a day or two?"
That earned her a blank look from the Fells; Meli sighed. "I assume you're asking if Mr. and Mrs. Fell would mind staying with the Camerons tonight?"
"Exactly." Andrea looked at the Fells. "They're British, too, and in pretty much the same boat as you. The only thing is, Reglan's a squib town."
Mr. and Mrs. Fell exchanged deadpan looks. "I don't know if we can handle that," the former said.
"Oh, but think of the havoc we could wreak," his wife answered. "And if they think we're squibs—"
"And responsible adults . . . they'll never be the wiser," Mr. Fell finished. "Beautiful." He turned to Andrea and smiled his best Slytherin smile. "Thank you for your generous offer. We accept."
Andrea caught Meli's eye. "I'm getting a taste of the Skulkers, aren't I."
"You have no idea."
Dumbledore beamed. "Now that it's settled, all that remains is for you to go to Reglan." He looked shrewdly at Meli. "I trust you can see to it that no one sees them leaving the castle?"
"Naturally," she replied.
The four of them left Dumbledore's office, then Meli led the others immediately into a nearby secret passage, the existence of which surprised only Andrea. This passage took them to ground level on the opposite side of the castle from the main entrance. Nearby was the hidden entrance to another passage that took them to a depth just below the dungeons proper and positioned them somewhere just beneath the main gate. This passage also failed to surprise the Fells.
The next passage, however, was concealed by a wall like the one at Platform 9 ¾. Meli had obviously used it several times, but Mr. Fell gazed around the wand-illuminated tunnel in open wonder. "I've never seen this one!" he exclaimed.
"I have," Mrs. Fell returned smugly.
"This one will take us out to the Forbidden Forest," Meli informed them, smiling. "We can apparate from there."
A deep sigh came from Andrea's direction. "I really went to the wrong school," she grumbled. "I want to be a Skulker!"
"No use crying over spilt milk," Meli replied.
"Not my point."
The Fells just grinned.
As accustomed as they had grown to magical comings and goings, the Camerons were not expecting any visitors after dinner on a quiet weeknight. Charity Cameron was, therefore, justly surprised when three witches and a wizard appeared in the entryway just after she herself had entered in a much more normal fashion through the door. Andrea, grinning at Charity's stunned countenance, blithely rapped her knuckles on the inside of the closed outside door.
"Andrea!" Charity sighed in exasperation.
"What?" The Auror shrugged. "I knocked!" She turned to the Fells, her grin still in place. "Permit me to introduce Charity Cameron. Charity, these are Myrddin and Alexandra Fell."
"But Andrea—"
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Cameron," Mr. Fell said, intercepting and shaking the hand she had flung to the side as she attempted to protest.
"That is a lovely dress, dear," Mrs. Fell added, smiling brightly as she caught and shook Charity's other hand.
Charity smiled back, then caught herself and turned back to Andrea. "But why are you in your pajamas?!"
Andrea had the temerity to look surprised. "Pajamas?" She crossed her arms. "Pajamas, indeed! All Aurors dress this way, thank you very much! It's very fashionable in the law-enforcement community."
"Especially when you're jolted awake at three in the morning," Meli added sardonically. "Hello, Charity. Sorry for crashing in on you, but there's a bit of an emergency, and we were hoping to enlist your family's help."
Charity blinked, but, evidently used to Andrea and Meli's oddities, nodded and showed them all into the living room. Most of the rest of the family was there. To judge by the amount and composition of the rubble near the chessboard, Daniel was soundly beating his older brother at wizard's chess. Scott was busily typing at the computer desk nearby, and Mr. Cameron was progressing steadily through Tolkien's Unfinished Tales. Faint clanging and clattering from the kitchen gave evidence of Mrs. Cameron's presence there.
Mr. Cameron looked up first. "Oh, hello, Andrea," he said with a smile. "Meli, welcome."
"Aunt Meli!" Scotty hollered, jumping up from the chess table.
"Hey, stupid, it's your turn!" his king shouted. "Oh, fine. First you do your best to get me killed a hundred different ways, thank you very much, and then you take off before the slaughter's through. I tell you, it's just plain typical!" He pulled off his crown and threw it down on the board. "That's it! I quit! I'm sick and tired of—"
"Oh, up yours!" Scotty snapped at him, then turned and hugged Meli.
Daniel smiled to himself as he shut Scotty's infuriated king securely in the piece box, then also stood to greet the new arrivals, though with far less noise than his brother had employed. By now Scott had joined them, and Mrs. Cameron had come out of the kitchen to find the source of all of the noise.
Somehow, in the midst of it all, Meli and Andrea managed to introduce everyone to everyone else (Andrea, who was still a touch disoriented, accidentally introduced Scott and Charity to one another not once but twice), and eventually the Fells' story was adequately explained.
"So if I understand correctly," Scott summarized, "you need a place to stay for a day or two, until Andrea can work her usual feats of magic and set you up with a house?"
The Fells nodded. "But if it's an imposition, we can find other accommodations," Mr. Fell assured them.
"And risk the Death Eaters finding you?" Mrs. Cameron countered. "Oh, no, you don't. You'll be staying with us."
Mrs. Fell blinked, obviously surprised at the other woman's immediate firmness. "Well, if you'd like to talk with the others—we don't want to intrude on anyone."
"There's no need for a family meeting," Scott assured her. "And the only ones who intruded or imposed were the Death Eaters who wouldn't let you be. You're quite welcome here."
The Fells exchanged looks, then nodded their assent.
"Good!" Mrs. Cameron clapped her hands. "Then all that's left is to have dessert."
After dessert, Meli was obliged to return to Hogwarts; she was due to teach in three hours and hoped for a two-hour nap first. She promised to come back that weekend to help the Fells settle in. Before she left, though, she took Scotty and Daniel aside.
"You've asked me a few times about my adventures in school," she reminded them.
Both boys nodded.
Meli grinned. "Listen to Mr. and Mrs. Fell," she advised them. "Learn from them. They are the masters; I was but an unworthy student."
This counsel was greeted by a grin from Scotty and a cool, small smile from Daniel. Meli departed then, secure in the knowledge that the Fells had gained two apt and eager new apprentices in the pranking trade.
She grinned again. Charity was going to kill her.
JUNE 1986, END OF SEVENTH YEAR
All of the details had been settled, and the Skulkers were preparing to disband when a stray thought occurred to Meli. "Do you think we'll get detention for this?" she asked hopefully.
"No such luck," Collum predicted, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "After seven years of our antics, I think all the teachers are on to us."
It was true. They hadn't had a detention of any description since before Christmas, though it wasn't for lack of trying. Indeed, Crim had gone so far as to disrupt Defense Against the Dark Arts one day, risking the wrath of Professor Brood (the only teacher she slightly feared) by unleashing a cage full of pixies in the classroom and shouting, "Be free, my little ones! Dance naked on the tabletops!" She had earned a hundred point dock for Slytherin, but Brood was, indeed, on to her and had refused to issue a detention.
Meli sighed regretfully. "Too bad. We haven't had one in so long. It would be nice to finish school on a high point."
"So what are you suggesting?" Sharpie snorted. "That we ask for detention?"
To his apparent dismay, Meli's eyes lit up and a broad grin overtook her face. "Give me twenty-four hours," she breathed. "I will present you with the best possible request for a detention—our last best shot at getting one."
Collum and Sharpie traded worried looks. "Why do I feel as though I should be terrified?" the former asked in an undertone. Sharpie just shook his head.
"By all means, Meli, write it up," Crim said with a grin. "I, for one, can hardly wait."
True to her word, Meli had her masterpiece written out by the following afternoon. In fact, she had found time to make out four copies, all neatly printed on staff paper, complete with clefs and time signature.
Sharpie examined his copy, then lowered it again with a stunned look on his face. "I don't want to know how you came up with this."
"Billy Joel would be honored," Crim said reverently. "I highly approve." She smiled like a pit viper. "On one condition."
Meli looked narrowly at her. "What condition?" she asked cautiously.
"You do lead vocals."
"I'm not doing lead vocals again."
"Your voice is higher than Crim's," Collum pointed out. "It'll be more obnoxious with a higher voice." He grinned. "Though it is pretty obnoxious already."
Sharpie cleared his throat. "Has it occurred to anyone else that this routine will actually make it less likely that we'll receive detention?" he asked pointedly.
Meli shook her head. "Snape'll come through."
"Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow," Collum pointed out. "I was planning on a spree at Zonko's—been saving up for months—but I've got a better idea."
Crim, catching his drift, nodded enthusiastically. "Perfect!" she crowed. "And if Snape doesn't come through for some reason, you get to keep it—provided you share, of course."
"You're all about conditions today, aren't you?" Sharpie snickered.
"I'm not singing lead!" Meli growled. "They'll think I'm trying to monopolize the limelight, or that I'm the ringleader!"
The others looked at her, deadpan. Then the twins simultaneously broke silence, Crim saying, "Well, don't you?" as Collum said, "Well, aren't you?"
"You're not helping, Sharpie!" Meli grumbled as he fell to the floor laughing.
Crim clapped her on the shoulder. "If it's your reputation you're worried about, we'll rearrange the tarnish appropriately and as needed." She leaned in close and smiled. "But in the meantime, you're singing lead."
The morning after their final late-night venture, the Skulkers gathered one last time outside the doors to the Great Hall. They were ten minutes late for breakfast and twenty minutes late for the spectacle of Flint being freed from his duct tape bonds, but that was as they had planned it. Nearly all of the teachers and students were at breakfast now; the time for their grand finale had come.
Aided by an odd little spell he had picked up somewhere or other, Sharpie successfully slammed open the doors to the Great Hall, drawing every eye to the doorway in which the Skulkers stood, arms linked in a manner reminiscent of The Wizard of Oz. Meli took a deep breath and, with the others supplying background harmony, began to sing, all four of them skipping of the center of the Hall in rhythm with the music.
Finding ways to tick our teachers off
Doesn't keep us occupied enough.
We've really planned—
We've engineered some quite impressive pranks—
But no detention for the longest time.
Oooh, no detention for the longest time.
Oooh, no detention for the longest time.
Anyone who's lived in Hufflepuff
Knows we haven't been penalized enough—
Here she had to pause until the thunderous applause from the Hufflepuff table fully died down. She then blithely continued:
Poor Prof McGonagall
Prob'ly wants to thrash us all, but
She has not detained us for the longest time.
Make us write some lame essays, please,
Or on hands and knees
Scrub the floor of the Great Hall.
All the Skulkers' homework is done.
We need something fun,
And we can't go play paintball.
Now the background harmony provided by Collum, Crim, and Sharpie turned slow and halting, as though they could hardly hold back tears. Meli also slowed her pace and even paused at irregular intervals to sniffle loudly.
We're afraid we're losing our touch,
Ready for re-Sorting into Hufflepuff.
Professor Snape, we beg you—
We'll buy you a whole keg if you
Give us our first detention in the longest time!
Now Crim broke in to call out, "Everyone, sing it with us!" Only a few, mostly upperclassmen from the Gryffindor table, obliged.
Oooh, first detention in the longest time.
Oooh, first detention in the longest time.
Oooh, for the longest time!
The end of the song was swallowed up by boos from Slytherin and hearty applause from Gryffindor. Most of the Ravenclaws cast disapproving eyes on the Skulkers, and the Hufflepuffs were obviously of differing opinions. Most of the teachers looked on in open-mouthed shock, with the notable exceptions of Dumbledore, whose eyes twinkled with overflowing mirth; McGonagall, who glared at them in open annoyance; and Snape, who was smirking.
The hubbub eventually died down, but the Skulkers remained rooted to their spot, looking up at the head table in comical expectation. Snape now stood, crossing his arms, and strode out from behind the table and towards them. Dead silence swept through the hall, and even the Slytherins were suddenly holding their breath.
Snape stopped perhaps five paces from the Skulkers, who stood with their arms still linked, and regarded them coolly for a moment. They'd had the better part of a week to prepare for this confrontation, though, and none of them so much as broke into a sweat beneath his scrutiny.
"Miss Ebony, Miss Fell, Mr. Fell, and Mr. Pierce," he said at last, the hall's acoustics amplifying his voice for all to hear, "will please report to my office immediately after dinner this evening to serve a thoroughly disagreeable detention."
Meli smiled hawkishly. "And what about points, sir?" she asked.
There was a subtle, unpleasant stirring from the Gryffindor table; the competition for the House Cup was particularly stiff this year. A point deduction anywhere could ensure a Slytherin victory; indeed, that House currently held a five-point lead.
Snape's eyes narrowed in amusement. "If I took away from Gryffindor in such a public setting and in front of the esteemed Professor McGonagall, I would be obliged to take away from Slytherin, as well," he pointed out. "Why don't you just serve your detention and call it even?"
Meli curtsied very prettily. "Very well, sir."
The Skulkers had arrived at their first Snape-administered detention with an air of meek repentance. They arrived at their final one with a distinctly festive attitude and toting a keg of butterbeer, which Collum immediately presented to their surprised and amused disciplinarian.
"We are pranksters of our word, sir," he said, grinning.
Snape arched an eyebrow. "And if I had not given you a detention, what then?"
"Party at Fell's, sir," Sharpie replied, deadpan.
"It's quite fortuitous that we think so far ahead," Crim added, her tone and countenance identical. "Wouldn't you say, sir?"
Snape came close to smiling, but the lapse was only momentary; the look passed almost immediately. "I must confess, I've had some difficulty in deciding what to subject you to," he told them. "I've narrowed the possibilities down to two; you'll have to decide for yourselves which is preferable."
All four Skulkers assumed comical listening poses, which Snape dutifully ignored. "You may scrub out—no magic—the bedpans in the hospital wing. Since there are no patients there, you'll be able to chatter and sing to your hearts' content. However, since there have been no patients there for some time, and since Malvina Anderkoil served detention last week, the bedpans are already quite clean, so even if you take your time, you'll be finished by one in the morning."
Crim made a face. "Could be worse, I suppose," she commented. "What's the other choice?"
"Your other option," Snape replied, "is to dust every book in the philosophy section of the library. However, although Madame Pince will be safely out of your way, the task may well require you to work at it for a day or more." He smirked. "Straight through."
The Skulkers exchanged glances amongst themselves, communicating entirely with their eyes. The preferred task was, of course, the library, but the prospect of working straight through for days put a bit of a damper on things.
"You could, of course, do it in installments," Snape offered smoothly. "Work until morning, then return each night until you've finished . . ."
Meli looked shrewdly at him. "Why, sir, that's positively kind of you!"
The Potions master smirked. "Never let it be said that a keg of butterbeer goes unrewarded," he replied dryly.
PRESENT: LATE FEBERUARY
Meli left shortly after her final class Friday evening and apparated directly to Reglan, arriving before lunch Friday morning. The Camerons' house was a beehive of activity, but its inhabitants weren't so busy that no one noticed Meli's appearance on the scene. Indeed, she received a warning smile from Alexandra Fell, then she was nearly flattened by Charity Cameron.
"Meli Ebony, Socrates was forced to drink hemlock for what you've done!"
Meli arched an eyebrow. "Apparently, I'm somehow guilty of corrupting the youth," she observed dryly. "What brought this on?"
Charity glared at her. "Daniel and Scotty forked their teachers' lawns!"
"Were they caught?" Meli asked blithely.
"No—"
"Then how do you know it was them?"
"Mrs. Becker and Miss Hart were both forked on the same night," Charity snapped. "We're the only family with students in both their classes and none in anyone else's."
Meli sighed feelingly even as she caught grins from both of the Fells, who stood conveniently behind Charity. "Even if the boys are the culprits," she said wearily, "which I consider unproved, I find it very uncharitable to blame me."
"Well, who else would have given them the idea?" Charity demanded. "You're the former Skulker, and I seem to recall you mentioning forking once or twice."
"My dear Charity, I have never forked anyone's lawn. Had I given out ideas, I would have recommended flossing the teachers' trees instead." She smirked. "And as for my being a former
Skulker . . . there's no such thing. Once a Skulker, always a Skulker—just like the Marines, but with fewer muscles and more intelligence."
Charity eyed her distrustfully, but Meli had been a Skulker for far too long to let even the barest trace of dishonesty shine in her eyes, though it could be said to shine in her soul. Pranksters protected their own—even when their own were sloppy enough to leave circumstantial evidence of their identities. If Scotty and Daniel hadn't learned their lesson, the Fells could still be trusted to pound it into them before the next late-night adventure.
Still, for a first strike, the Cameron brothers' feat was impressive.
"Look," Meli sighed. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll take the boys aside tonight and explain to them the error of their ways, assuming it was their error."
"Just be sure to make the point clear," Charity said through her teeth.
Inwardly, Meli grinned. "Quite clear," she promised.
She spent the day helping Andrea move the Fells into their new house, which was conveniently located two doors down from the Camerons'. In hiding the Camerons, Andrea had had to make several days' worth of arrangement in about twenty hours' time, but since the Fells had temporary lodgings for the moment, she had been able to move at a more reasonable pace with them. In Meli's absence, she had forged new identities and obtained American citizenship for the couple, as well as finding and claiming the house into which they were now slowly moving. Meli accompanied them to the furniture store and to several clothing shops, more for moral support than to offer any helpful input; the Fells were the ones who had to live with the results, after all.
In this way, the day passed quickly—again—and Meli found herself faced with the task of explaining to Scotty and Daniel the grave error they had committed. Fortunately, she had specified that she would be taking them aside, so she had few worries about removing them from Charity's hearing. And, since she was a firm believer in mixing business with pleasure whenever possible, Meli took the boys out for pie. Once the waitress departed after dropping off their orders, and once Scotty had relieved Meli of the whipped cream on her key lime pie, she looked very seriously at the boys. Scotty had the temerity to look nervous; Daniel just stared measuringly back at her.
"Your mother told me about your . . . recent adventure," she told them.
"Adventure?" Scotty echoed, managing to sound almost, but not quite, innocent.
Meli bestowed upon him a small, reptilian smirk. "You discovered a more than usually creative use for common dining implements," she clarified. "At night and in gardens not belonging to your house."
"Oh." Daniel nodded once, unrepentantly. "That adventure."
"Your mother is under the misimpression that I'm somehow responsible," Meli went on, "and that, therefore, you're both on a swift path to Hell, with or without the benefit of a handbasket." She cleared her throat. "So I have taken it upon myself to educate you. I'm sure your more immediate teachers would be happy to go over this with you, but I have the advantage of longer acquaintance."
Scotty choked on a bit of French silk; Daniel leaned back to watch Meli, then took a long, unconcerned sip of his milk.
"You've had a few days to think this over," Meli continued smoothly. "What did you do wrong?"
"We vandalized two lawns," Scotty answered glumly. "And we used up all of the forks Mum was saving for Dan's birthday."
Daniel sighed and looked disdainfully at him. "Did you notice this is Aunt Meli we're talking to?" he asked testily. "Meli, not Mum." He turned back to their interrogator. "We successfully hit two targets the same night, but we hit them in the same way, allowing them to figure out who was responsible."
Meli nodded. "Very good," she replied. "Given the chance to do it again, how would you have carried out your attack?"
"I would fork Mrs. Becker," Daniel said immediately. "Then, three days later, TP Mr. Johnson. Then, a month or so later, floss Miss Hart and Mr. Cairns."
Scotty frowned. "But Mr. Johnson and Mr. Cairns aren't our teachers."
Daniel sighed patiently, an amusing thing to see in a nine year-old. "But Charlie's in Mr. Johnson's class, and his sisters are in with the other three," he explained. "So they'd get blamed, not us."
"Very good," Meli said approvingly. "How, then, would you salvage this current situation?"
The brothers traded shrewd looks. "This weekend, we TP Mr. Johnson and Mr. Cairns," Scotty answered slowly. "And next week, we floss Miss Roberts and . . . Mr. Collins."
"Then we stop for three or four months," Daniel added.
"Good," Meli told them. "Even better would be to TP Mr. Johnson and Mr. Collins, then later on floss Mr. Cairns and Miss Roberts. That way, even if Charlie's family can't be blamed, it'll be written off as completely random."
Daniel smiled slowly. "Does Mum know you're telling us this?"
"She knows that I'm pointing out to you the error of your ways," Meli allowed. "I may have neglected to specify which error I planned to address, of course."
"You know what, Aunt Meli?" Scotty said after a moment. "You're really cool."
"Particularly in winter," she replied dryly. "However, I expect both of you to be appropriately meek and repentant when we go home tonight. Pranksters cover for each other, but they also cover for themselves."
Daniel set aside his empty glass and clean plate. "I'm so guilt-ridden I couldn't even finish my blueberry pie," he said sardonically.
"Me, too," Scotty added, shoving the last bite of his pie into his mouth.
Meli smiled broadly. "You both show definite promise," she said, turning her attention to her own pie.