Chapter Twenty: Croaker and Bode

Beth woke up around dawn. Her father did not.

Blearily, brushing hair from her eyes, she staggered into the hallway and wandered around until she found a ladies' washroom. After splashing some cold water on her face and tying back her hair, she returned to the ward.

A Healer had come in and was looking her father over, scrawling something on a clipboard. Beth came instantly alert. "What is it?"

"Routine check," the Healer said cheerfully. "He's no worse. Go on up to the visitor's tea room and have some breakfast. It's on the fifth floor."

Breakfast had been the last thing on Beth's mind, but at the mention of the word her stomach clenched longingly. She had not eaten since lunch the previous day.

"All right..." she said reluctantly, looking at her father's motionless face. "You'll call me if..."

"We'll summon you the moment anything changes," the Healer said immediately, and steered her towards the door. "There you are, up the stairs and straight on."

Beth took the stairs slowly, sore from sleeping crunched into an armchair. At the very top of the stairs she found a brightly-colored door with the words "Visitor's Tearoom" in golden print. Beth slipped inside self-consciously and located a kettle with hot water and a tin of tea bags, beside a large basket full of muffins. She made herself some strong tea, picked up a muffin, and looked around for a place to sit.

There was only one other person in the visitors' tearoom: a beak-nosed wizard, dressed in black from the cap on his head to the ribbed turtleneck to the scuffed shoes. Then he looked up from his mug of coffee, and Beth nearly dropped her own teacup in surprise.

"Croaker!"

A bright smile flew across the Unspeakable's face, though Beth thought he looked worn. "Blimey! If it ain't Miss Parson." He pulled out the chair beside him. "'Ow's me girl?"

The question seemed to crowd her mind with everything that was wrong at that moment. "Not too great," Beth admitted, taking a seat. My father's in a coma, my craziest brother escaped from prison, my boyfriend's playing dead, the Dark Lord owns me and someone in my family is going to die. "Not great," she said again.

"Sorry to 'ear that, mum," Croaker said. He fiddled with his coffee mug, not completely meeting her eyes. "Things ain't so well with me either, truth be told."

Beth remembered what Richard had told her about the Unspeakables. "Bode?" she asked quietly, and Croaker nodded. "How is he?"

"Not much of a conversationalist these days, old Bode," said Croaker. There was a kind of resignation in his flippancy.

"I heard," said Beth. She glanced down at her tea, and gathered her nerve. "Croaker, what happened to him?"

Croaker gritted his teeth. "Can't say as I know," he admitted. "That is to say, I think I oughta know somethin' it's back in me head, like but I can't bring it to mind" He slammed a fist down on the table suddenly. Both of their mugs shook; some of Beth's tea slopped over the rim. "Pardon me, mum," he said bleakly, reaching out to mop up the spilled tea. "It's frustrating, like..."

"It's all right," said Beth quietly, laying down some napkins over the spill.

The Unspeakable slugged back his coffee as if he wished it was something stronger, and Beth recalled the first time she had met the pair of them. One of them had told her, "They send us out an' bring us back, wipe our minds, so's we can't tell wot we've been up to. That's why you've got to have a partner reminds you why you wake up to a day you won't remember." They relied on each other. Beth couldn't imagine what it had been like for Croaker, to spend those weeks without a mainstay.

"Has he improved?"

Croaker brightened. "Bloody roight 'ee has, movin' an' tryin' to speak an' so forth. I got 'im a calendar for Christmas an' 'ee sits up t'look at it every day now. Almost speakin' again. I think old Bode's been practicin' 'is Ancient Runes, 'cos it's all Greek to me." His smile was half a grimace. He drained his coffee cup and set it back down. "I'd better get back down to 'im, see if breakfast was up to scratch, eh? Want to come down an' say hullo? Don't know for sure he'll reply, mind, but it could only do 'im good, mum."

Beth finished her tea. "Yeah."

Croaker led her back down the stairs to the fourth floor. "Oi've been keepin' watch, like," he told her. "Chartin' improvements. Ain't much else to do but sit an' watch..." He broke off again.

Beth hurried to keep up with his stride. "Haven't you been working?"

Croaker shook his head. "What good's an Unspeakable wi'out 'is partner, eh?" He pulled open a door which read simply, "Closed Ward". "I'm skiving orf until 'ee's cured. Wotcher, Alice," he added, cheerfully tipping his cap to a round-faced woman who hovered, wide-eyed and wild-haired, near the door. "Workin' indeed. Bode wouldn't stand for it"

He faltered and stopped walking in mid-step.

"Bode."

Halfway across the room, the beak-nosed wizard lay still in his cot, pale face pointed to the ceiling. A smattering of earth was spread across the bedsheets. Long vines, their leaves dark and shining green, wrapped around his neck and face. A few torn leaves sprinkled his chest.

"Bode!"

Croaker tore across the ward, knocking a wheeled cart out of his way. He reached his partner's side and bent over him frantically; then he began ripping away the tendrils. They pulled apart with a harsh tearing noise and wound themselves around his arms, clinging to one Unspeakable even as they were wrenched from the other. When the thickest of the vines were pulled away, Croaker bent and pressed his ear against his partner's chest.

There was a long, terrible silence.

Croaker stood up slowly. His shoulders trembled.

Beth stood rooted to the spot. She was afraid to move, afraid to speak. She felt the Society ring on her finger clench and grow cold, just as it had always done to mark the passing of another member. The dead man stared motionless at the ceiling. Bits of green still clung to his waxy cheeks.

"No, you're not ever." Croaker's voice was little more than a murmur. "You can't. If you go I'll never remember at all."

The ward was claustrophobically still.

Croaker bent his head and began to sob.

A green-cloaked lady orderly strode into the ward, cheerfully greeting the wild-haired Alice at the door, and proceeded merrily between the beds. Just a few paces from Croaker, she drew up suddenly and stared at the pair of them, and the tragic tableau they made. She turned on a dime and rushed from the ward, her calling voice ever dimmer as she vanished down the hall.

"I oughta know."

Croaker had spoken again; now angrily, thick-throated.

"I think I oughta known what did this to you I think I oughta know what you did... There's somethin' I oughta know but I just can't remember!"

As Beth watched, the unpartnered Unspeakable collapsed to his knees. She could neither go to him nor back away; she would not leave Croaker alone with his grief, and dared not intrude on it.

There was a great bustling behind her, and a number of orderlies many carrying strange equipment swarmed around Bode's bed, almost tripping over the kneeling Croaker and completely obfuscating Bode from sight. One of them shoved Croaker away. He rocked backward and sat with a thud; not even bothering to move from the floor, he bent his head and put both hands over his face.

A gloved hand dropped onto Beth's shoulder.

"Miss Parson."

Beth could barely tear her eyes away from the sight of Croaker. "What?" she said absently.

"Your father's awake."

-'-'-

Beth thudded down the stairs, ran through the hallways, and finally skidded into her father's hospital ward.

She stopped breathlessly at the side of his bed. Mr. Parson, still lying down, turned his head toward her and gave her a slow smile. "Hullo, Bethy."

"Hi."

He raised an arm; Beth leaned forward and fell into his embrace.

"I knew you'd be all right," she whispered, pulling back to gaze at his familiar, wrinkled face.

Mr. Parson met her eyes. "Do they know ... what happened?"

"No," said Beth firmly. "I told them it was an intruder and I didn't see his face."

Mr. Parson smiled weakly and reached out a wrinkled hand to stroke her cheek. "That's my girl." He gave a shallow sigh. "No use making a bad thing worse."

"No use," Beth echoed. It was hard to think of Chris when the joy of seeing her father awake again crowded everything else out of her brain. She broke into a smile. "It's Monday. You slept the night."

"Did I?" Mr. Parson fixed her with a look. "You ought to be at Hogwarts, young lady."

Beth smiled even wider. "I'll leave tomorrow."

Mr. Parson settled back comfortably against his pillow. "Well, I guess you can take a day off." He reached over and picked up a newspaper from the bedside stand. "For that matter, so can I."

-'-'-

"Next stop, 'Ogsmeade Village!"

The Knight Bus came to a neck-breaking halt. Beth picked herself up off the floor, pulled her trunk off of a fellow traveler, bid a shaky "Thanks" to the spotty-faced conductor, and staggered out onto the sidewalk near the Three Broomsticks pub. The bus took off with a bang. Caught in its wind tunnel, Beth teetered and fell backwards over her trunk again.

The sky was red with sunset; the hills around the village glinted gold. Beth gathered her things and set off down the path towards Hogwarts. It was a fairly long hike, particularly wheeling her trunk behind her, but after two days cooped in the hospital the exercise was very welcome. Her father had been given a clean bill of health by both wizard and Muggle standards. He would be released the next morning, with a warning to avoid heavily taxing activity and Floo travel for a week.

No one had found out about Chris, true; but they also didn't know where he had gone, and that worried Beth more than she admitted. Before leaving the hospital she had made her father promise to get out his old Air Force revolver in case he came back. If it came down to the two of them, she knew which one she wanted alive.

The path became snowier and less-traveled as she approached the castle. The iron gates swung open, after the winged iron pigs at the top had looked her over and decided she was a student; she hauled her trunk inside the grounds and made her way up the steps and into the Entrance Hall.

Dinner, apparently, was over: the halls were empty. Beth put down her trunk and it instantly vanished; no doubt she would find it unpacked at the foot of her bed. Taking a deep breath, enjoying the damp familiar scent of the castle, she went downstairs to the dungeons.

No sooner had she stepped into the common room than she heard a very familiar voice.

"Beth!"

Melissa dashed up and threw her arms around her. "You're all right, we were so worried!"

"I'm fine," said Beth automatically.

Melissa pulled back and held her at arms' length. "What happened? You didn't show up, and then the newspapers said" She stopped herself in time, biting her lip and glancing around the common room. "Come upstairs, will you? We need to talk."

-'-'-

"It was in this morning's Daily Prophet," Melissa said, when they were both cross-legged on one of the canopy beds. "A dozen Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban." Beth stared at her: she hadn't know it was that bad. "We saw your brother's name it was, wasn't it?" she said anxiously, and Beth nodded. "I remembered him," Melissa said slowly, "he was so so hurt by the place he wouldn't look up when you called his name..."

Beth looked down at her hands. She remembered it too; now she had another memory of her older brother to grapple with, far worse than the other.

"Beth" Melissa hesitated for a moment. "You know, the story was in the newspaper, front page, and quite a few of the students receive it..." She braced herself and went on. "And, well, you should know. A lot of them know about it now. About you."

"About me?" Beth grabbed involuntarily for her forearm. "What about me?"

"No, not that," Melissa said hastily, "but your family they saw the name, and someone remembered something they'd heard, and someone else had read about the trial in a history book or something, and ... well, everyone knows," she said again.

"Oh." The meaning sank in and Beth's heart took a cold plunge. Everyone knows ... it was a secret fear of every Slytherin, that kind of exposure, and Beth knew her secret was worse than most. "Oh," she said again, feeling sick. "I think I'd like to stay up here for the rest of the evening." Until then she had been wanting to see the rest of her friends, find out how their Christmas had been.

"I'll get my notes," said Melissa. There was more genuine tenderness in her voice than Beth could ever remember. "We ought to go over what you missed in class, these last two days."

"All right." Beth made herself smile. "Did I miss much?"

"Not comparatively."