Chapter Twelve: Inspections and Introspection

Beth wanted to talk about what they had seen and heard in the tower of the Guild of the Eagle, but Melissa sent them all to bed immediately upon their return to the common room.

"We have done enough for one night," she said, in a frighteningly serious voice. "I will not risk any more on their account."

However, the very next morning, before they even left the common room to tromp upstairs for breakfast, Melissa pulled them aside and instructed them to act as if nothing had happened.

"Can we tell the other-" Mervin began, but was shot down instantly.

"No."

"They didn't seem so bad," said Bruce, frowning.

"Of course, you're not at all biased, being that you're dating one," Beth slid in.

"It's not important what they're like," said Melissa forcefully. "I don't care if the Ravenclaws are the nicest, most useful people on the planet. If the Dark Lord can see us talking to them, it's worse than death. We took a risk last night. It's lucky we were able to get out without a commitment."

"Don't you think we can trust them?" Mervin began dubiously, but Melissa waved him off again.

"Right now, whether or not we trust them is secondary. We have every reason to believe that the - that You-Know-Who is able to spy on us, and only their word otherwise. We must continue to act as if he can. If not, we endanger both the Guild and ourselves."

Something occurred to Beth. "I still need to drop off Richard's ring in the crypt," she remembered aloud. "I'll just sneak out this weekend sometime, and while I'm there I'll check whether or not I can see one of you."

A sudden upset look crossed Melissa's face. "Are you sure ... you're ready to part with it?" she asked hesitantly.

"Well, I've got my own-" Beth began irritably, and stopped herself. When would she remember to act like a grieving girlfriend! She tried to put on a solemn face. "I think I am."

Melissa didn't seem satisfied with that, but it didn't do any good - Bruce declared himself near starvation and went up to breakfast, with Beth and Mervin close behind.

You've got to pay attention to what you say! Beth chastised herself, on the way upstairs. It had been easy, at the funeral, with Richard so corpselike at the front of the room ... and even for those few days after, with her mind full of his charade. But now having seen him, knowing that he was perfectly all right and camped out in London somewhere, it was difficult to remember that he was supposed to be dead.

They took their usual place at the breakfast table, among their classmates, focused on the mundanity of meals, classes, teachers and tests. All these people, Beth thought, and so few of them knew what was going on behind the scenes in their own school late at night.

What was going on behind the scenes that she, Beth, was not aware of?

Sally Bletchley approached the table, looking perky with a bouncing ponytail, and plopped down beside her brother. "We're out of blueberry syrup, so I'm eating with you," she told him, and proceeded to snatch three pancakes and the pitcher of syrup from under Bruce's nose.

"Good morning to you too."

"Professor Umbridge was in our Astronomy class last night," said Sally. She spoke in the easy manner of siblings who had no use for greetings or preambles. "She had Professor Sinistra quite shaken up."

"Right, the Inquisitor thing. What's she do?" Bruce said, digging into his own flapjacks. "Just stand there watching?"

"Oh no," said Sally, "she was asking questions and walking around looking at things. She was quizzing us on the constellations. I got mine right," she said proudly, "but it was easy, I had Orion. Euan was supposed to point out Perseus, and he didn't even point to the right quadrant."

Bruce perked up shrewdly. "Who's Euan?"

"A boy," said Sally blandly. Quite oblivious to her brother's expression, she went on: "I heard she was in the Divination class that Harry Potter takes. They say it didn't go very well."

"Everyone knows Trelawney's no Seer," said Beth mercilessly. "It couldn't have taken Umbridge long to figure it out."

Melissa looked offended. "Pay no attention to the skeptic," she told Sally, who was mowing through her flapjacks in a way that would no doubt make her brother proud. "Divination is a subtle and noble art."

"Have you ever heard Professor Trelawney give an accurate prediction?" Beth challenged.

Melissa wavered. "She's made some ... spectral claims..."

"She told us Mervin was going to die in third year!"

"I'm sure he will!" Melissa retorted. "Eventually."

"What did you say this 'Euan' character was like?" said Bruce suspiciously, to Sally.

"He's quite nice," said Sally, finishing the last of her pancakes with a flourish, "he's my Potions partner. I'd better get back to my table, Bruce. Have a good day!" She kissed him on the cheek and went back to the Gryffindor table.

Melissa cast a wicked grin towards Bruce, who was still looking slightly disturbed. "You know, she thinks the Weasley twins are 'quite nice' too."

"Good lord." Bruce was halfway out of his chair before Beth and Melissa, laughing, grabbed his arms and forced him back down.

-'-'-

The prospect of sneaking out to restore Richard's ring to the Society crypt was an exciting one to Beth; between the oppression of the Dark Lord and that of Umbridge, she had been feeling rebellious for a few weeks now. She relished the risk, almost nostalgically; it was reminiscent of the gold old days of the Society, when daring missions occurred almost monthly. She told her intent to Melissa, who agreed that the task should be done quickly, but added:

"You can't today, of course."

Beth eyed her uncertainly. "Why not?"

Melissa was indignant. "Because it's the first N.E.W.T.s practice session, that's why!" She ruffled her feathers a little. "You did say you would come. And it could only do you good, especially in Herbology."

She was more correct than Beth cared to admit; therefore, after the Great Hall filled and cleared out again after dinner, she followed Melissa up to the Charms hallway where the first session would take place.

Unsurprisingly, they were among the first ones (Melissa explained that as a sort of coordinator of the event, and it having been much her own idea, she felt obliged to oversee things; Beth knew she just wanted to see everyone who came in) but the room filled fairly quickly. All of the Hufflepuff seventh-years were there - Beth assumed they had urged each other to attend - as well as many of the Ravenclaws, including a handful of sixth-years there to get a head start. The Gryffindors were less well-represented; and to Melissa's great shame, only Mervin showed up from their own house.

"You can't be surprised," said Mervin, pulling out a vile green roll of parchment. "Aaron's P.O.'d at you. Warrington follows him, and Antigone follows Warrington."

"But what about Bruce?" said Melissa, half in despair.

"Oh, right," said Mervin. "I saw him by the lake with Kiesha Chambers."

Melissa groaned and sank down into her chair, turning crimson as she went.

Mercifully, Professor Flitwick entered soon after. "Welcome, welcome!" he squeaked. "So good to see all of you! Let's not waste time now - wands out, let's begin with a warm-up, shall we?"

Professor Flitwick's warm-up consisted of casting a Calming Charm on their neighbor; which, Beth realized (feeling relaxed and warm), was shrewdly planned to have the dual purpose of settling the class down. Then he took them through some very simple exercises, much like the ones they had done during the O.W.L.s practices two years ago, and had them practice the illusion spell they had been focused on the previous week of class.

"Mastery of illusion will be quite vital to your Charms N.E.W.T.," Flitwick told them. "This branch of Charms infallibly appears in the practical session, and without it even an 'A' marking will be very difficult to achieve. Therefore I expect that you will-"

There was a sigh and a soft thud.

One of the Ravenclaws arched her neck to gaze over her desk at the floor. "Patricia Stimpson, sir," she reported.

"Oh dear," Flitwick sighed, "I had hoped that this year ... very well, pick her up, someone. Who remembers the 'ennervate' charm? Very good, thank you, Davies ... whoever cast her Calming Charm should brush up before the test, eh? Moving on..."

By the end of the session, Beth's head reeled with the many spells they had rehearsed, and the passing mention of so many more that must be mastered. She had forgotten more over the summer than she realized. She hated to admit it to Melissa, but the practice sessions had been a good idea - if nothing else, they underscored how very much work she had to do before June.

-'-'-

By the end of the week, Professor Umbridge had managed to inspect most of the school.

"She did our Ancient Runes class this morning," said Melissa, at dinner on Friday. "The silly woman only reads English, of course, but she kept jabbing at things on the walls and wanting to know what they meant ... so our professor wrote 'Please ignore the mad woman in back' on the board in Cyrillic, and told her it was our homework assignment."

Beth laughed. "Beautiful."

"You've been really having at the old bag lately," Bruce noticed. "I thought you knew her."

"Never well," said Melissa darkly. "Let me tell you what I think about Professor Dolores Umbridge. I think she's got some pull with the Ministry, to get a job here at Hogwarts and then get put right away in some trumped-up, all-powerful position. I think she's smart, manipulative and ambitious. I know she's been publicly calling Dumbledore a liar ever since he started to spread the stories about you-know-what at the end of last year."

She looked from Bruce to Beth.

"I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep her happy," she said. "She's one of us - we should know better than anyone what that means. She's very dangerous. And it's only going to get worse."

Melissa was not the only one who noticed Umbridge's potential for power. Draco and the others had started showing her a deference that they had never given another teacher, not even Snape. Even the bratty little second-years, a pack of hooligans if Beth had ever seen one, never failed to greet Umbridge cheerfully when they passed in the halls. The Hogwarts High Inquisitor continued to nod and smile as if she believed it.

"It doesn't matter if you're sincere," Melissa sighed. "All that matters is that you play at it. She knows it, we all know it. That's how the game is played. They do it at the Ministry every single day. My parents are pros."

"You're not bad yourself," Bruce observed. "It actually looked like you were reading in class today."

"Don't be silly, I was doing the N.E.W.T.s primer under the desk," said Melissa irritably. "Nobody's that good."

The nice thing about Umbridge was that no matter what she did to a student, he could be certain that he wasn't at the top of her hit list. The Hogwarts High Inquisitor never said so aloud, but that position was held for a very special person.

It was as clear as crystal. The entire school knew. It was very difficult to tell what Umbridge was thinking, most of the time, but on this one point everyone was completely certain. She absolutely hated Potter.

"Potter's been in detention every day for two weeks!" Mervin reported gleefully one day, after hearing the delightful news.

Bruce perked up. "I hope he keeps doing whatever he's doing. Maybe he'll get expelled."

"We'd never be so lucky," Mervin grumbled. "Besides - if she axed him, who'd she pick on instead?"

They agreed that it probably wouldn't be Slytherins, but the new professor was unpredictable. For the moment, it was very nice to have Potter around to draw her fire.

-'-'-

As it turned out, Beth didn't get a chance to sneak out until that Sunday night. Just before curfew that night, she strolled upstairs through the thinning crowds of students returning to their common rooms, and, when the coast was perfectly clear, crept into the tunnel behind the statue of Dame Edna, the one-eyed witch.

It wasn't right, she thought angrily, making her way through the stark earthen tunnel. When Society alumnus Baltus Gatherum had died, the Society held a huge reunion dinner and memorial wake. His ring had been interred with kind words and a moment of silence. Ruse or not, Richard should have gotten the same treatment ... but the Dark Lord had taken that away.

She reached the end of the tunnel and climbed cautiously into the basement of Honeyduke's candy shop. The sacks of dry goods and barrels of sweets filled the stone cellar with a faint, lingering aroma that seemed out of place in the cool air. The store above was tightly closed, the living quarters below dark and still. Raising her wand, Beth closed her eyes and thought of the graveyard.

Crack.

There came the now-familiar nauseating feeling of being stretched and spun all at the same time; then her feet felt solid ground again, and her whirling robes settled against her clothes. She opened her eyes.

The clouds were so thick that the sky seemed made of drooping, black cotton. Big drops of rain began to thud dully onto her head. The gravestones all around her already dripped with rainwater; Beth got her bearings and started off through the churchyard at a trot, hoping to get into the Society sepulcher before she was completely drenched.

The crypt rose bleakly over a crest in the cemetery, presiding like a stern granite judge over the crooked and cracked tombstones littered at its base. Beth moved quickly, willing herself to be silent, hoping the rain would keep her enemies away from the crypt for a night.

At the door she made a fist and pressed the crest of her ring into the engraving that matched it. The stone wall thinned into mist and she slipped through.

The light from the magical sconces lining the walls of the crypt cast a strange, artificial glow on the beige stone. Treading quietly, Beth cased the anteroom - just in case - and then returned to the room of names.

The rolls of membership lined the walls, speckled with the glint of old pewter in some slots beside the names: rings of the deceased. There was nothing beside the name of Lord Voldemort, which until a few months ago had read "Tom Riddle." We should have known, Beth thought. Jules Rothbard so much as told us - our founder had 'never been properly interred'. We should have wondered. But they hadn't, and she had to admit to herself that their knowledge would have done nothing to impede the Dark Lord's resurrection anyway.

She found Richard's name below that of Gypsy Arendt under the year of their induction. As she undid her necklace and slid off the pewter ring, she wondered what Gypsy was doing now that she had left Durmstrang, and was pleased to find that she didn't care. She now thought of Gypsy (though she didn't realize it) with the fond regard of a victorious rival.

Beth slipped his ring into the slot beside Richard's name, then re-fastened the necklace with the black opal ring from Richard's mother around her neck. So final ... she raised her fingers to press against the engraving.

The vision that filled her mind was black but for an image of his face, rotating in the darkness so that it was more of a bust, a three-dimensional memory encased in the stone. Without the ring to follow, the wall could no longer show his whereabouts. Richard was free.

Beth dropped her fingers and stepped back with a sigh of relief. Now that she would admit the truth to herself, she hadn't been sure that it would work.

Speaking of things she wasn't sure would work...

She wandered down the walls until she came to the most recent years, the roster of current members. Please, she thought, let this not work.

She touched her fingers to Evan's name.

It was like running into a brick wall. An image of Hogwarts crashed into her mind: Hogwarts from below, with towering parapets and impregnable walls. It filled her mind from end to end. The vastness of the castle, its sheer strength, pounded in her head...

Beth reeled backward and her hand slid away from the wall of names. The pain subsided into a throbbing headache. She gritted her teeth against a groan. No wonder no one could spy inside of Hogwarts. After a greeting like that, no one would ever want to try again.

She laid a hand on Mervin's name, just to be sure, but only endured a few seconds of mental agony before ripping it away again. She could not see past the stone walls and barred windows. Hogwarts: A History had been correct. The castle was impenetrable.

Beth stood there for a few moments, gazing around at the list of names, waiting for her headache to subside. There were so many names ... quite a few rings in the slots, as well. How many of them had she met? A dozen, two dozen, out of over a hundred members? How many of them could she trust?

Her eyes strayed to a place near the corner.

Don't do it, a voice inside her said. Just as strongly, another voice insisted, It won't hurt just to look.

Yes, it will hurt, Beth thought, overriding them both, but I need to see.

She walked over and put her fingers on the name of Lycaeon Parson.

The vision flew through her brain with an almost physical force - it was like falling into a movie screen - before the picture settled into an exterior view of Azkaban. The fortress swam in grayscale, but Beth knew it wouldn't have mattered; there was nothing to see but bleak black sea, gray walls and dark empty sky. No color dared penetrate the island of the dementors.

A barred window rose into view and expanded to fill her vision. Something twitched near the sill: a beetle, or a rat ... closer still and the thing took the form of a calloused human hand, clutching the edge of stone.

Then she was through the bars and inside the cell. Seemingly suspended from the ceiling, she stared down at the cold stone floor and the wasted figure hunched near the wall, one hand grasping for the bars. Had he really been so thin? Maybe at first, but certainly not when she had last seen him... Had his hair, shaggy and graying through the blonde, always been so lank and uncontrolled?

Had his eyes always been so empty?

Beth wanted to end the vision. It physically hurt to see him like this, the way he had once been ... but she kept looking. It might have been that she missed seeing him, or that she wanted to feel like she still knew her brother, or even that she dared not look away, but some strong force kept her eyes riveted at the sight of him.

Something else flickered on the edge of the vision.

Lycaeon curled into a ball on the floor. Beth willed the image to expand, to take in the unseen thing at the edge, which she now saw as a tattered corner of cloak licking the bars - and suddenly the image erupted, blindingly large, and she saw the full terrifying form of the dementor billowing against the bars to her brother's cell.

Beth pulled away from the wall with an audible gasp, and instantly she was left staring at the sandstone wall of names. She reached out again, desperate not to lose sight ... and stopped herself. Watching Lycaeon under the effects of a dementor was not something she ever wished to see.

She stepped reluctantly away from the wall. Her job was done, and so was her extra task. Without another glance at the wall she turned and left.

She had had enough of the nighttime, the crypt, and past memories for one night.

She had no sooner stepped out into the rainy graveyard than she saw something move at the edge of the trees.

Beth threw herself behind a tombstone, heedless of the mud on her hands and soaking through the knees of her jeans. She peeked around the gravestone. The figure wore a dark cloak and hood, eliminating any chance of identification. It moved quickly between the tombs, undaunted by the driving rain. Clearly, its destination was the Society crypt.

Beth crouched behind the gravestone, breathless, as the figure approached and finally sank through the door of the crypt. As soon as it had vanished, she leapt to her feet and took off across the graveyard. No matter who the visitor to the crypt, she wanted to be as far away as possible-

"Oof!"

Something bit into her knee and she went sprawling on the rain-wet grass. Muffling her pain, she rolled over to see what had gotten her.

The jagged edge of a tombstone stood innocently in the shadows, rain trickling down its sides where a smear of blood dripped across it like a sash.

Beth hadn't even noticed that her heart had been pounding so hard until it began to slow down. Groaning, she scrambled to her feet and staggered the last few yards to the edge of the wood. She closed her eyes and forced herself to calm down. It would be no good to anyone if she splinched... She took a deep breath and Apparated back to the quiet streets of Hogsmeade.

She landed on her knees, and this time couldn't hold back a surprised squall of pain. Well, at least she was safe here in the empty street. She sat back and pulled back the hem of her cloak to take a look at the damage. Her jeans were gashed open in one knee; the leg was soaked with mud from the fall. She pinched the cloth, wondering if the house-elves would be able to get out the stain, and her fingers came back red.

So it wasn't mud. Wincing, she prodded her leg until she found the wound; not a bad one, more bloody than painful. Confident that it was neither debilitating nor lethal, she got to her feet and limped toward Honeyduke's, praying that she wasn't bleeding badly enough to leave a trail in the basement of the candy store.

-'-'-

Beth snuck back through the tunnel, coming up behind the statue of the one-eyed witch into an empty hallway and making it back to the dungeons without incident. She whispered the password and crept inside - only to see that some of the lights of the common room were still lit.

"It's all right," came a low but clear voice. "I've sent everyone to bed."

Beth followed the voice to see Melissa reclining in one of the high-backed chairs, the N.E.W.T.s study primer between her hands. She came up and sat down across from her. "You can do that?"

"I am a seventh-year prefect," said Melissa. "My word is law." She caught sight of Beth's bloodstained jeans and let out a gasp. "Oh Beth, what happened?"

Beth groaned. "Nothing. I tripped on a tombstone."

"Then - everything went well?"

"Someone else showed up." Beth slumped down onto the chair beside her, not caring about the mud she was getting all over everything; that, after all, was what house elves were for. "I don't think they saw me."

"Because you were perfectly camouflaged in a puddle of mud," said Melissa, looking her up and down.

"You try going out in the pouring rain..." Beth prodded at her knee, trying to see how badly her jeans had been torn. "The Guild was right, you can't use the crypt to see into Hogwarts. Thirty seconds of trying and I still have a headache."

Melissa's face dissolved in relief. "Oh thank goodness."

"I dropped off Rich's ring. And checked on my brother."

They sat quietly for a moment. Beth remembered again her brother's pale and lank face. She tried to conjure up a memory of the way he'd been the previous year, growing healthier, bragging about his Muggle job at the petrol station, joking that soon you wouldn't be able to tell him from Martin Miggs. But the worn features overshadowed the cheery ones; she couldn't remember, somehow, the happier times.

Melissa spoke up sadly.

"So. He's really gone."

"Yeah," Beth said, with a sigh. She wasn't sure her brother would be able to stand losing his freedom a second time.

Melissa's face softened with sadness. "It doesn't seem real, does it?" she said.

"No. I thought he was here to stay."

"I ... suppose I knew he was in danger." Melissa seemed to be speaking more to herself than to Beth. "But ... I never expected him to ... to die."

Beth looked up sharply. Lycaeon wasn't dead - with a jolt, she understood. Richard, in the eyes of nearly the entire world, was.

Melissa, who had also jerked her gaze upward at Beth's motion, stared at her. "You ... were talking about Rich, right?"

"It doesn't matter." Beth didn't know why she felt so vulnerable then, as if Melissa's question had been an attack. "They're both gone."

She stood up abruptly. "I'm beat. Let's go to bed."

Melissa nodded, still with that peculiar look on her face, and followed Beth back to their dormitories, where they changed in the dark and went to bed without another word.

-'-'-

They made sure all of the Society members, including Madam Pince and Professor Grubbly-Plank, knew that they could not be spied on inside the Hogwarts walls. (They weren't sure about the grounds, but suspected that they were similarly protected.) It was almost frightening to see how relieved the two witches were to hear the news.

"I've suspected," said Madam Pince, her usually stern face relaxing into excitement. "I've never known..."

"Of course," said Professor Grubbly-Plank in a hushed voice. "Tommy stayed at Hogwarts over the summers on account of he's an orphan. He wouldn't want any of us spying on him over the hols. 'Spect that's about when he found the Chamber of Secrets," she mused, as Beth and Melissa exchanged horrified looks at the sight of her gabbing about the Dark Lord like the old school friend he was. "Course we didn't know it at the time, though Bernard Humphries, him and Baltus Gatherum were a mite suspicious. Very bright, old Bernard."

"And look what happened to them," Melissa muttered, when they had left Professor Grubbly-Plank behind with her memories. "Bernard Humphries went and got his memory erased somehow last year, and Baltus Gatherum's dead."

The four seventh-years strolled around the edge of the lake, stopping occasionally to chuck rocks into the water or watch the bare ripples where the giant squid cruised just inches below.

"I still don't like it," said Mervin, for the hundredth time.

"Nonsense." Melissa skipped a rock with particular force. "We've had all the proof we can expect." She turned back to them. The sun glinted on the lake behind her. "The Ravenclaws were right. You know what that means."

"I owe Bruce a Sickle," said Mervin glumly.

"Man, the Ravenclaws are always right," said Bruce. "It was a sucker bet."

"It means," said Melissa, glaring them down in turn, "that we can, at least to an extent, trust their knowledge base. It means that they know things about this castle and what's in it that we don't - and it means that they're willing to share it with us."

She looked around at them, hands on her hips.

"We're going back to the Vase Room."

-'-'-

The Vase Room had lain empty for months; and now, though the ten Society members gathered on its low couches amid many varied pots and vases, it was as silent as if they were not there at all.

Melissa had described the Guild of the Eagle; Beth had explained her discovery of the limitations of the wall of names. Blaise looked at her shoes; Morag, beside her, chewed on his nails contemplatively. Audra Verona sat quietly beside her dark classmate, Oren, who was rubbing his hands together absently and looking at the floor. Herne wore his worries on his face, while Evan, as usual, was a cold mask of indifference that may have been more studiously cool than usual.

"What are they after?" said Oren at last, pushing up his rimless glasses with uncharacteristic nervousness.

"That's what I asked," Bruce told him. "Information, apparently. Just to know more about us."

Oren did not look convinced.

"I think we should take a chance," Melissa said. "You never know when we may need allies. Although ... I think I'd like a second opinion."

She turned to Audra.

The blonde girl gazed back calmly. Beth hadn't heard her speak a word for the entire school year - not surprising, since they hadn't had any meetings, and Audra tended to keep her peace anyway. However, it had only been a few months since they had discovered the truth: quiet Audra, who barely spoke, was a genuine Seer.

Melissa's voice was serious.

"Can we trust them?"

Audra thought about for a few minutes. Then she shrugged lightly.

"They fear us."

The Society exchanged glances and murmurs.

"I guess it's true," said Herne, with an air of surprise. "They look at me sideways in class."

Herne had turned into a well-built, burly sixth-year; and although he was as genial as it was possible to be, it was no wonder that the other students regarded him warily. Besides, Beth thought, he was on good terms with Evan, who unnerved everybody.

"Tha' means they'll be swier tae set us in dudgeon," said Morag, "an' ca' cannie tae depone agin' us."

There was a silence.

"They'll be afeared tae do us wrong."

Nods and murmurs of agreement.

"One more thing," said Melissa. "Beth saw someone going into the crypt the night she went to - to replace Richard's ring." She looked unhappy just to say the name. "They can't see us while we're in Hogwarts, but I let this remind you that they're still trying. I think we should take a risk with the Guild, but we must not fool ourselves that we're safe."

No one replied.

"All right then," said Melissa, back to her usual brisk self. "Midnight at the Entrance Hall next Tuesday. Bring your wands. And don't forget-" she added, as they began to get up and stretch before the trek back to the common room, "-don't trust anyone too far."

-'-'-

The ten of them gathered in the Entrance Hall, huddled close together, in preparation for the first joint meeting of the full Society with the Guild.

"Now listen carefully," said Melissa, lowering her voice. "We know they know a lot about us, but we don't know how much. Don't volunteer information. Not a word about Pince or Grubbly-Plank, not a single peep that two of us are Death Eaters, and anyone who mentions that Audra's a Seer will be instantly murdered. I am not joking."

"I believe you," said Mervin solemnly. "Slytherins never joke about murder."

"Nor do I." Melissa arched an eyebrow in his direction. "I think we should take advantage of their help, but we need to play our cards very close to the chest. Understood?"

No one replied, so she went to the center of the room and tapped the tile with her wand.

One by one, the Society members stepped onto the enchanted stone and were whisked upward through the ceiling and into the tower library of the Ravenclaw Guild.

Beth waited until everyone but Melissa had gone before riding the strange current upward. She arrived disheveled but whole and went to take a seat among the rest of the Society, who had laid claim to a few chairs and tables on the other side of the room. Apart from Bruce and Kiesha, the two groups did not seem to be mingling.

Deirdre, in fact, had already begun the meeting. Melissa popped through the floor as she was having a discussion about detentions with Michael Corner, and joined the Society with the sheepish hunch of someone walking into a theater after the play has begun.

"The Hufflepuffs changed their password," said a bright-eyed girl with puckish blonde hair. "It's diligence now."

Kiesha pointed her wand across the room to where a large plaque hung on the wall, bearing the four house crests to the left of a series of engraved plates. The plate beside the Hufflepuff crest shivered in its settings. When it had settled, the word "diligence" shone clearly in the tarnished surface. Beth noticed that the Slytherin password was among them.

"Remind me to change the password tomorrow," Mervin muttered in her ear.

"Nice catch, Cova Lynn," said Deirdre appreciatively. The little girl beamed. Beth thought she looked too young and chipper to be an accomplished spy. "Did anyone else make themselves useful this week?"

No one, apparently, had, so Deirdre turned to Melissa. "I see you have brought your full number. Welcome."

Some of the Society members offered half-grins or raised hands, but the greeting was not one that invited warm replies.

"Have you any questions for us?"

An unexpected offering. Beth personally had lots of questions, but none of them seemed pressing enough, or were well enough articulated in her head, to mention. Melissa thought, glanced around at them, and then finally shook her head "no."

"Very well. In that case, we have a question for you."

No one looked surprised. "Go on," said Melissa.

"We were curious as to just how you came to the conclusion that you were being spied upon. All of us came to Hogwarts under the natural assumption that we would be protected from that sort of thing; you, however, must have gotten some indication to the contrary. What?"

Melissa hesitated for just a moment. She must have decided, however, that the Ravenclaws were worth more as an ally than a threat, so she said clearly, "The problem is the rings."

Deirdre looked at her blankly. "Excuse me?"

"The Society rings." Melissa held up a hand to show her, then blushed and put it back down. "Well - you can't see them unless you're wearing one. But we've all got one."

"I see." Deirdre didn't bother craning her neck to look for something she couldn't see. "What do they do?"

Mervin, who usually worked on enchanting the rings, answered that. "Identify us to each other," he said, somewhat proudly. "They also channel magic so that we can cast group spells. They warn us when one of the members has died. And they're sort of a tracking device; there's a list of us that lets us spy on one another." He didn't mention that it was inscribed on the walls of a sepulcher.

Deirdre was nodding. "Which is why you were concerned about outside observation."

"Right." Mervin glanced down at his own ring. "Oh, yeah. And we can't take them off unless we're dead."

"Convenient," Kiesha commented pointlessly.

Cho Chang had leaned forward to hear better; now she spoke up for the first time. "They sound like a huge liability."

"Not normally," said Melissa, nodding, "but now, they're the worst sort."

"You were right," Beth pointed out. "They don't work for spying within the castle walls." Deirdre nodded with the patience of one who is used to being proven right.

"Ooh!" The little girl named Cova Lynn raised a hand. As soon as Deirdre nodded toward her, she burst out breathlessly:"I read this book once, it was about a magic ring, and the fellow who was carrying it couldn't get rid of it because he didn't have the willpower."

"Really!" That sounded relevant. Beth leaned forward. "What happened?"

"Somebody bit his finger off."

The whole Society recoiled.

"Eugh!" said Melissa involuntarily.

"We're not doing that," said Bruce quickly, rubbing the crest of his ring nervously.

"I think it's worth a try," said Kiesha, snatching up his hand and nipping playfully at his fingertips.

"You're not helping," said Bruce, with a smile.

"But I'm bloody cute," Kiesha grinned back.

Deirdre rolled her eyes. "Bletchley was more correct," she said briskly. "Thank you, Cova Lynn, we will consider your suggestion as a last resort." Cova Lynn beamed in a way that someone contemplating amputation should not have done.

There were few comments and no major items of news, but through the course of the evening it became clear how closely the Guild kept track of Hogwarts daily minutiae, a fact which left Beth feeling both impressed and alarmed. It was nearly one o'clock when the Society dropped back down through the ceiling of the Entrance Hall and crept back to their dormitories.

They reached the common room without much trouble. Melissa whispered the password and waited for everyone else to go inside. She had one foot inside the door when she paused and glanced behind her. Evan Wilkes had bypassed the common room and continued down the hall.

Melissa paused and leaned back out the door of the common room. "Where are you going?"

"Alchemy project," said Evan shortly, without pause.

"Evan, it's four hours past curfew!"

"Time and tide," he tossed back, and disappeared into one of the dungeons.

Melissa came back into the common room, shaking her head, and the stone wall rematerialized behind her. "I'd stop him," she said, "except the only person who would catch him is Snape, and he won't care."

"I didn't start doing the midnight oil thing until May," Beth recalled with a shudder. "I can't believe he's so deep in his project already."

"What is he working on?"

"I don't actually know. Professor Snape said he's trying something very foolish, and very likely impossible," Beth told her, remembering what she had heard that first day of classes.

"I really don't like the sound of that," said Mervin.

"Nor I," said Melissa. "Especially since foolish and impossible things don't seem to daunt Evan too much."

-'-'-

Evan spent a lot of time that week on his Alchemy; and although Beth peeked in every time she took a break from grading potions for Snape, it never became clear what he was trying to do. Often as not he sat in the dungeons glaring at an open book with his cauldron suspended over an unlit fire. Finally she decided that since Snape had approved it, it couldn't be too bad, and resigned herself to being left out of Evan's little world.

The following week's Guild meeting brought interesting news, especially since the Society would not have been otherwise privy to it. It was nearly a half hour into the proceedings (Deirdre becoming increasingly frustrated at the petty nature of most comments) when Michael Corner finally spoke up: "Hogsmeade next week."

"Ah," said Deirdre, satisfied. "That is useful." She turned to Melissa. "You were worried about being under surveillance. In Hogsmeade village it would be all too easy for your enemies to watch you - to hex or even kidnap you. You all ought to consider remaining in the castle."

Kiesha cocked her head and squinted. "You know, Dee, when you do that paranoia thing you almost look like Mad-Eye Moody."

Deirdre turned slowly towards her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Come on. Say 'Constant vigilance'."

"Constant pestilence," said Deirdre, through her teeth.

"With feeling," Kiesha urged.

Michael Corner broke in then, though it wasn't clear whether he was trying to save his Chair from further aggravation, or save Kiesha from a hex. "There's going to be some kind of meeting in Hogsmeade, in the Hog's Head tavern. My girlfriend says it has something to do with Harry Potter and D.A.D.A. She wouldn't tell me anything else, but she wants me to bring you and Boot." He nodded toward Anthony Goldstein, the big-nosed prefect.

"That's right!" said Cho, turning to look at him. "Hermione Granger invited me as well."

"Splendid," said Deirdre, "that makes three of you. I want you to take note of everyone in attendance, everything that is said, and your surroundings both immediate and extended."

Melissa leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "What do you think they're up to?"

"I haven't a clue," said Deirdre grimly. "But if Harry Potter is involved, I guarantee that it will be worth knowing about."