Chapter Fifteen
Snowed Under
Ethan stayed true to his word and didn't try to return to the Vases for the rest of the Christmas holiday. He returned the amulet to the bottom of his trunk, wondering whether his parents would have considered the way he had used it "frivolous."
He could not, however, forget what the Vases had shown him. His dreams became troubled, full of searching red eyes, pillars of flame, his mother weeping.
Tim also had difficulty shaking what he had seen from his memory.
"I can see what Flyte meant when he told you the Vases could drive you off the deep end," he said, after he'd confided in Ethan that he, too, had been having nightmares that centered on farm accidents.
They confined their outdoor activities to the quidditch grounds for the remainder of the holidays.
Ethan also completed his portrait of Tim the morning before classes started. As he had in their very first art class, Ethan used the special spells that brought the painted version of Tim to life. Professor Skryme was pleased and Ethan couldn't help thinking that he'd done a much better job capturing his friend on canvas than he had on his first attempt.
In fact, Ethan had wanted to present Tim with the portrait, but Professor Skryme had insisted that it remain in the painting studio.
"We wouldn't want anyone thinking that Mr. Van der Meulen was putting on airs, now would we?" he had told Ethan.
"Well, maybe Tim could send it home to his folks," Ethan suggested, but Skryme didn't approve of that idea, either.
"I'm afraid we're not allowed to hang our paintings in the homes of muggles," Skryme had explained. "I'm sure you understand that, Mr. Lloyd! But don't fear! Your work will undoubtedly provide inspiration to the other artists here at Kaaterskill."
When Anne returned later that day, Ethan and Tim told her about the Vases. She was greatly disappointed to have missed the adventure, but her disappointment was tempered by Ethan's deduction that the Sphinx was guarding a talisman of great power.
"What we need to know now is how much Tiverton has already learned about how to get to it," she told them. "There are probably all sorts of spells and enchantments around it, even if he got past the Sphinx."
Ethan was actually somewhat relieved to get back to classes, although soon enough the workload changed his mind.
Winter on the mountain top was beautiful, but a seemingly endless series of storms left everyone feeling shut in. Standish and Beadle worked overtime keeping a path clear between the school building and the greenhouses. The drifts dwarfed the first-years as they trudged out for Herbology class. Professor Crockett carefully kept the greenhouse fires stoked, more for the sake of his plants than for the comfort of the students.
Quidditch continued despite the weather. Tim and the rest of the Bradbury squad practiced under terribly harsh conditions, for the next match against Tituba was to be played before the end of January. On many nights, Tim returned to the common room with frost still clinging to his eyelashes, cheeks ruddy from flying in the freezing air.
"Are you going play this match?" Marcus asked on one such evening. "If not, they should let you skip practice and stay dry for a change!"
"Looks like I'm playing," Tim said as he stood warming himself in front of the fire. "East should be back to normal, but he's only flown a few times. Danny says he's still not himself."
"Too bad for him," Marcus said. "But hey, his loss is your gain, if you don't freeze to death, right?"
"I wouldn't want to bet against the freezing part," Tim said with a shiver.
So January crept along and both work and snow piled up. Match day finally arrived, along with another snowstorm. As the enchanted ceiling glowered with storm clouds above them, the Bradbury first years speculated on the day's events at breakfast.
"They won't really play in weather like this, will they?" asked Kyle.
"Quidditch matches are never postponed," Anne said authoritatively. "They've played in hurricanes, blizzards and tornadoes."
"I've heard they have some spells that help keep the stands dry, and the field more or less clear," Peter offered.
"Doesn't do much good for the players in the air, though," Tim said. "We saw Standish and Beadle out there yesterday during practice. But you spectators will have it pretty good."
On the way out to the stadium, Ethan seriously considered returning to Bradbury Tower, at least for the first match, Harrison against Tenskwatawa. But he knew that attendance was mandatory and the last thing he wanted to do was get caught alone in the school during quidditch again.
The snow came down in sheets during the match, though it magically disappeared as it reached the ground. The spells that kept the stands dry and reasonably warm had no apparent effect on the wind. Gusts blew constantly through the Bradbury stands. Ethan's scarf fluttered constantly, like a flag. The players were buffeted by wind and snow and the scoring was infrequent. Ethan wondered just how the seekers would be able to see the Golden Snitch, let alone catch it.
About an hour and a half into the match, Harrison led 40-30. Suddenly Eric McFee, the Harrison seeker, took off from his hovering location above the field, swooping down towards the faculty grandstand. Sanchez hurtled after him. Ethan could hardly see what was happening through the blowing snowflakes. He thought that McFee was holding a hand out as if to grab the Snitch, just a few feet above the ground. Sanchez was just behind him. Just as McFee seemed ready to close his palm around the Snitch, a huge gust of wind caught him and threw him right into Bruno Galvez, the referee. The broom caught Galvez on the forehead. Both Galvez and McFee crashed into the ground and at the same instant Sanchez triumphantly held up his right hand, in which the Golden Snitch now fluttered.
"What a reversal! Tenskwatawa has won. Darn it! I mean, bad luck, Harrison!" came the dispirited voice of Gordy Lemister announcing the end of the match.
The Bradbury first-years groaned; for them a Tenskwatawa victory was not at all welcome.
"Bad luck!" Marcus exclaimed. "Why couldn't the wind have picked Sanchez up and sent him over the mountain?"
Ethan didn't care much about the fate of Sanchez, as he'd noticed that Galvez still appeared to be unconscious. Nurse Abernathy was leaning over him, as was the headmaster. After a few minutes, Galvez stirred and looked up groggily. He tried to struggle to his feet, but Abernathy restrained him. Cyrus Flyte waved his wand once and a pair of stretchers appeared, floating in midair. Galvez was placed upon one. Eric McFee, who was standing but had a large bump on his forehead, got onto the other stretcher reluctantly. Abernathy marched away, moving the stretchers along with her wand.
"What now?" Peter asked. "Without a referee, they'll have to cancel our match."
Nobody answered, but Ethan noticed that Flyte had huddled with the faculty in their section of the stands. After a few minutes they ended their conference. Ethan saw that two teachers were now missing from their seats--Professor O'Loughlin and Professor Tiverton. He pointed this out to his friends.
"Well, they both had students involved in that crash," Marcus noted. "Maybe they went to the infirmary."
"Maybe," Ethan replied. "But I've got a bad feeling about this."
Fifteen minutes passed and Gordy's voice boomed out once again, though Ethan thought the announcer had lost a bit of his spirit after the Harrison loss. The snow had let up for the moment, but the clouds still glowered as dark as ever.
"And now we welcome you to today's second match continuing the Kaaterskill House Quidditch Challenge. At this end, please welcome the undefeated Bradbury Founders!"
Danny Dewin led the Bradbury players hurtling into the air and down to the goals in front of the faculty grandstand. The Bradbury fans cheered, waved scarves and banners that flapped in the winter wind.
"And defending the far hoops, also undefeated, welcome the Tituba Sorcerers!"
The Titubans flew out from the lockers and circled the hoops at that end of the field.
The players took their positions and the captains met at the center of the field.
"So, who's the referee?" Anne asked.
An unfamiliar figure flew out from the lockers, someone much smaller than the burly Galvez. Under the heavy robes and goggles, Ethan couldn't make out who it was.
Gordy's next announcement ended their confusion.
"Referee for this match, graciously standing in for Señor Galvez, will be Professor Tiverton."
"Tiverton?" Marcus repeated incredulously, as Ethan and Anne shared a dark look. "Since when does he know anything about calling a quidditch match?"
"I'll tell you why he's out there," Ethan said. "I bet he figures he's just been given a great chance to get back at Bradbury for the last match!"
The snitch, bludgers and quaffle were released and the match got underway. As if on cue, the wind picked up and sheets of snow pelted down on the field again. For a good twenty minutes, neither team could keep the quaffle long enough to take a good shot.
Tim finally got a good run down the field towards the Tituba goals, managed a strong pass to Kenny, who hurled the quaffle through the rightmost hoop.
"Ten nil, Bradbury!" Gordy called. "Goals may be few and far between today!"
The Bradburys barely had a chance to celebrate when a loud whistle stopped play.
"What happened?" Marcus demanded.
"It seems the referee is calling Cooper for interfering with the quaffle," Gordy announced uncertainly. "And it appears that Paddock will be given a penalty shot. And Dewin dives and stops--no, it trickles through the center hoop! Goal Tituba, 10 all!"
"That's a very obscure call," Anne grumbled. "He didn't try to hit the quaffle; the wind blew it into him."
"I told you so," Ethan said. "Tiverton couldn't even let us keep a ten point lead for a minute!"
Play resumed. The teams continued to struggle in the blizzard. Routine passes between chasers went astray in the wind. The seekers seemed to have no idea how to find the Snitch amid the eddying snowflakes. The bludgers flew around the pitch in a dangerously unpredictable way. Remembering East's accident, Ethan thought it lucky no one had been hit in the head.
Bradbury had scraped a 40-20 lead after the first hour. No one scored for another forty-five minutes, when Tiverton called Tim for blagging when the wind blew him into a Tituba chaser. The Sorcerers scored when a blast of snow blinded Danny Dewin on the penalty shot.
Sometime after this--Ethan wasn't sure exactly how long--the crowd suddenly came alive. Jenny Templeton had finally caught a glimpse of gold near the Tituba hoops. She flew as quickly as she could after it, faster than Ethan thought possible in the blustery wind.
Ethan glanced quickly to his right and saw Kenny steal the quaffle from a Tituba chaser. Kenny quickly passed to Melinda Travisano, who headed up the field.
All eyes were now on the Tituba end, which was a confusing blur of action. Jenny was weaving around the base of the hoops seeking the Snitch, the Tituba seeker on her heels.
Melinda passed the quaffle to Tim, who suddenly ducked as a bludger whizzed just over his head.
The Tituba keeper seemed momentarily uncertain about how to defend with the seekers zooming around the hoops.
Tim must have seen the keeper's hesitation. He quickly headed toward the center hoop, faked a shot, then turned and hurled the quaffle at the left hoop.
"Yes! Way to go, Tim!" Ethan yelled, but his voice was drowned by a sudden groan of despair from the Bradbury fans.
For as the quaffle soared toward the unguarded hoop, a flutter of gold appeared before it, followed by Jenny, who had stretched one hand out to grab the snitch while flying almost vertically.
The quaffle struck the Bradbury seeker on the hand and then deflected away from the hoop. Jenny momentarily lost her balance and veered off to the right shaking her hand.
Tituba's seeker had been right behind her and stayed on course. Worse, the quaffle's wake seemed to slow the Snitch ever so slightly. A moment later, the Tituba seeker was holding the Snitch up triumphantly.
"And Tituba has won. 180-40!" Gordy announced. "Another stunning turn of events! So Tituba remains undefeated in the House Quidditch Challenge!"
Ethan stood, as silent and stunned as the rest of the Bradburys. Across the field, Tituba's fans celebrated wildly. The Bradbury players had alighted and were examining Jenny Templeton's hand. After a few minutes, they trudged off toward the locker rooms, looking wet, cold and utterly beaten.
"Well, come on," Anne finally said. "Let's get out of this blizzard."
That evening the Bradbury common room was quiet as a morgue. The first-years huddled at one table and commiserated.
"Is Jenny OK?" asked Melissa Murthin.
"Oh, yeah," Tim answered. "Said it just stung when I hit her. She wouldn't even go up to the Infirmary."
"She agrees with the rest of them, it wasn't your fault, Tim," Anne said. "I heard her say it herself."
"I know, I know," Tim said dully. "They all said they didn't blame me. But I did cost us the game, now didn't I?"
Try as they might, nobody could cheer Tim up. Gradually people drifted away and went up to the dorms.
Finally, nearly all the disconsolate Bradburys had abandoned the common room. Only Marcus, Anne, Ethan and Tim remained, seated in the best armchairs in front of the flickering fire.
"Well, there's still the Harrison match," Marcus said, staring into the flames. "If we can win that, and Tituba plays as well against the Prophets as they did today..."
"You mean, if they get as lucky," Anne grumbled. "Tiverton won't be refereeing that match, I'll bet!"
Ethan shrugged. Tim said nothing, but leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling.
The clock struck midnight. Anne stood up.
"Guess I'll go to bed. Good night, all!" she said as she trudged towards the stairway to the girls' dorms.
"I'm turning in, too," Marcus announced as Anne's red hair disappeared at the top of the stairs. "You two ought to, too. We've got those essays to write tomorrow yet."
"Don't remind me!" Ethan said. Thinking about the transfiguration essay seemed to be adding insult to injury. "But you're right. Come on, Tim, tomorrow's another day!"
"I suppose so," Tim answered, sounding unconvinced. But he also got up and the three of them made their way up to bed.
The first-years' dorm was already dark. Ethan heard Kyle snoring from within his curtained bed. Evidently Peter was also asleep.
Marcus, Ethan and Tim quickly changed into their pajamas, brushed their teeth and climbed into their own four-posters.
"Buck up, Tim!" Marcus whispered hoarsely. "It was a fluke, we all know that!"
"Yeah," Tim replied, also in a whisper. "I know, but I still feel lousy."
"You'll feel better in the morning," Ethan said with a yawn. "After a good night's rest. See you tomorrow."
"'Night, Ethan," Tim said. "'Night, Marcus."
Ethan was sound asleep in less than a minute. Hours later, he heard a hoarse cry of "NOOOO!" followed by a scream. Ethan opened his eyes, disoriented. For a moment he wondered what terrible dream he'd interrupted. But another moan followed and Ethan realized the sound was coming not from within his mind but from the adjacent bed.
"Tim! What's wrong?" he exclaimed, pulling open his curtains and springing out of bed.
No answer came from Tim's bed, just a rasping, throaty sound. Then Ethan heard Tim's voice, sounding far away, gasping "No, never! I won't..." followed by another scream.
Ethan pulled open Tim's curtains. At the same instant, Marcus and Kyle opened the curtains on the other side. The three of them stared at each other for a moment, then down at Tim.
"W-www-what's www-rong wwwith him?" Peter said fearfully as he staggered up next to Ethan.
Tim was tangled in his blankets, arms akimbo. His eyes were open wide but unseeing, staring up at the canopy, his face pale as death. Breaths were coming from his lungs in shuddering gasps.
"I won't! I'll never tell you that! You'll have to kill..." His voice trailed off and then he screamed again, his legs pulled up under his chin, writhing in apparent agony.
"Tim, wake up!" Ethan yelled. "You're having a bad dream! Wake up!"
"I'm going for Kenny," Marcus said, unnecessarily as it turned out, for as he turned to the door, the proctor ran through it.
"What in Merlin's name is going on down here?" he asked, surveying the scene, his face nearly as pale as Tim's.
"We don't know, Kenny," Ethan said. "I woke up and heard Tim screaming. He's having a bad dream, or a seizure, or something."
Kenny walked over to Tim's bed and shook him.
"Come on, Van der Meulen, wake up! You'll be all right if you wake up!"
Tim's eyes turned to Kenny and focused on the proctor. He looked around quickly, taking in Ethan's concerned eyes, then the others' fearful, confused faces.
"I'm...what's...oh, God, they were torturing me. They wanted me to tell them..."
"Calm down, Tim," Kenny said gently. "It was just a dream."
"No! It wasn't a dream," Tim said, sounding suddenly angry. "Not a normal one anyway. There were people questioning me, they wanted to know...And they used a curse on me, again and again..."
Tim shut his eyes tight, his fists clenched, still rocking back and forth.
"It was terrible," he said without opening his eyes. "Crucio, he said. The pain, I've never felt anything like it. I felt like my body was going to explode, and then my brain..."
Tim broke off, shivering and covering his face with his hands.
Ethan looked at Kenny.
"Could a curse in a dream really affect him like that, especially if he'd never felt it before?"
Kenny said seriously, "I don't know, but it seems very unlikely. I think we need to get him to the Infirmary. Tim, do you think you can stand up?"
"I'll try." Tim struggled to push himself up. He half-stood, but his arms and legs shook and his face turned even paler.
"No, no," Kenny said. "That's no good. Easy now, let's sit you down again. Marcus, go get Bancroft. Ethan, help me get him back down."
Ethan slid an arm around Tim's back. Kenny tried to support Tim on the other side and they somehow managed to get him back onto the bed.
Marcus again ran for the door from the dormitory to the stairs. Again he stopped short, this time jumping aside just in time to avoid being bowled over by Professor Bancroft. The Bradbury master, dressed in a fur-trimmed burgundy night gown and slippers covered in shimmering scales, wore an expression of concern on his face.
Bancroft looked at Kenny, then Tim.
"Well, Mr. Sturtevant, what's happened?" Bancroft asked. "I was told a student was in trouble up here."
"Van der Meulen seems to have had some sort of bad dream," Kenny replied. "Someone was using Unforgivable Curses on him...in the dream, I mean."
"I told you, Kenny, I wasn't dreaming!" Tim burst out.
"What do you mean, Mr. Van der Meulen?" Bancroft asked, looking hard at Tim. "Are you saying that someone was casting curses on you in your bed?"
"No, I wasn't here...it was somewhere else," Tim faltered. "There were two of them. They wanted to know something, but I wouldn't tell them. One of them aimed his wand at me and..."
At this Tim fell silent and began shivering so hard that Ethan and Kenny seemed to be shaking as well.
"Mr. Van der Meulen, I know this is difficult for you," Bancroft said. "But I need to know exactly what happened. What did the man with the wand do?"
"He shouted...just one word," Tim said slowly, still shivering. With great effort, he whispered, "Crucio!"
Tim's face contorted as if in agony. Bancroft looked startled.
"Mr. Van der Meulen, have you ever witnessed this curse?" The house master asked seriously.
"No!' Tim answered quickly.
"Have you ever read about its effects?" Bancroft continued.
"No, I've never even heard the word before!" Tim said.
"He did describe the effects of the curse very vividly, sir," Kenny said. "Not that I've ever...Professor Hsu does cover it with the fifth years, sir."
"Thank you, I'm aware of that, yes, Mr. Sturtevant. I just don't understand how a first-year would know."
Ethan felt Tim slump against him. He couldn't understand why Kenny and Bancroft were taking so long to start for the Infirmary.
"Look, Tim's sick! He's not making it up!" Ethan finally burst out. "He's not lying! None of us know anything about Unforgivable Curses or whatever they're called! Can't you just get him over to the Infirmary?"
Bancroft looked at Ethan as if he'd just noticed his presence. Though still serious, his demeanor softened a bit.
"I believe your friend is telling the truth, Mr. Lloyd, at least as he experienced it," the history professor said. "And there are explanations for what he felt tonight, though all seem improbable at first consideration. The headmaster may be able to work that out. But you are right; we need to get him to Miss Abernathy first."
Bancroft waved his wand and conjured a stretcher out of thin air, just like the ones at the Quidditch match. He and Kenny lifted Tim gently onto the stretcher. Using his wand, Bancroft gently levitated the stretcher towards the door. Kenny led the way down the stairs. Ethan and Marcus rose to follow, but Bancroft shook his head.
"No, boys. You will best serve your friend and yourselves by staying here! He'll get the care he needs from the nurse. Get some rest and you'll see him in the morning."
Marcus muttered under his breath, but Ethan just shrugged; he could tell there was no arguing with Bancroft. They watched helplessly as Tim floated down the tower stairs and into the common room.
The remaining first-year Bradbury boys sat on the edge of their beds, mostly silent, for some time.
"That was the worst bad dream I've ever seen," Marcus said after a long time. "If that's what it was."
"But what else could it have been?" Peter said, his voice squeaking as it usually did when he was nervous or frightened. "He didn't leave his bed."
"What if someone did attack him with telepathy or something...from a long way away?" Kyle asked.
"Could they do it to one of us next?" Peter wondered, his words nearly obscured by his squeak.
"No, whatever happened, it must have something to do with Tim, not the rest of us," Ethan said. "Though I can't imagine what it could be."
"I hope you're right," Peter said doubtfully as he pulled his bed curtains shut again.
"Well, we know that Brocklebank's been out to get him for months now," Marcus said. "Maybe he's figured out how to do it without leaving fingerprints."
"Brocklebank?" Ethan said dismissively. "I doubt he's figured out how to cast curses remotely."
Marcus yawned. "Well there's nothing we can do anyway," he said. "So I'm going back to bed." Soon the room was again dark. Within minutes, Marcus and Kyle were snoring. Ethan spent a long time wondering and worrying about Tim's torment. Finally he too drifted back to sleep.
Sunday mornings were usually quiet and relaxing at Kaaterskill. The excitement of Quidditch was past and homework could be put off until afternoon or evening. But this Sunday, the Bradbury table was somber as the news of Tim's illness spread. There was no news of his condition until lunchtime, when Professor Bancroft strode over to where the first-years were huddled.
"Your classmate has a remarkable constitution," he said. "The best wizards would have been knocked out for a week or more by what he's gone through. But he's sitting up and asking to see you...all of you."
"That's great, sir!" Ethan said. "Can we go see him?"
"Well, Nurse Abernathy doesn't really approve, but the headmaster has convinced her that Mr. Van der Meulen can have visitors beginning at 3 o'clock. But please...don't overtax him or the nurse!"
As the clock struck three, a small crowd had gathered in the hallway outside the infirmary. All the Bradbury first-years were there, as were all the members of the Bradbury Quidditch team and all of the Bradbury proctors.
The door to the infirmary opened and a petite older witch, graying hair tied back in a bun, stepped into the hallway. Nurse Abernathy cast a wary eye in their direction.
"Well, you can see him, but not all at once" she said. Gesturing at Ethan, Marcus and Anne, she continued. "You three first...ten minutes! This isn't your common room, you know!"
Ethan felt relieved to see that Tim was sitting up and, for the most part, looking his usual self. He was still a bit pale, but he was smiling bashfully at the knot of concerned visitors.
"You OK, man?" Marcus asked. "You don't look like death warmed over anymore!"
"I'm fine, just fine," Tim answered, a bit too quickly, Ethan thought. "I hope Abernathy will let me out soon."
"But what happened, Tim?" Anne asked. "All the boys could tell me was that you acted as if you'd been tortured. But how could that be?"
Tim's smile faded a bit. He seemed to labor over his answer.
"I don't really know, Anne. I know I wasn't being tortured. I mean, I was right there in my bed, wasn't I? But it wasn't quite like a dream, either. It was almost as if I was watching another me. But it wasn't just watching..." Tim shivered again, but quickly recovered.
Then he turned to Ethan.
"Whatever was happening to me, it was because of you."
"What?" All three of the others asked at once. Ethan felt himself go nearly as pale as Tim looked.
"No, I didn't mean...," Tim said awkwardly. "I mean whoever had me--the other me--wanted to know something about Ethan. I don't know just what it was, but I know that's why they tortured, well, me or whoever."
"Could you tell who they were?" Anne asked.
"No, Flyte already asked me. All I remember is there were two of them. They were wearing masks. One of them seemed familiar somehow, but I couldn't see him well enough. The other was tall and had horrible red eyes coming through the mask. Those eyes! I can't forget them."
"I've seen those eyes, too, Tim," Ethan said quietly. "In the Vase of the Present. They were looking for me."
At the mention of the Vase, Tim looked from Ethan to Marcus to Anne in surprise.
"Oh, Marcus is all right, Tim. We told him about the Vases...and the Sphinx, too," Anne said. Then she frowned at Ethan. "What do you mean, looking for you?"
"Well, that's how it felt," Ethan said. "I was looking into a room with a fireplace and he was there. And then he was walking toward me, as if he knew I was watching. I didn't want him to find me, so I stopped looking."
"Flyte didn't say anything about the vases being two-way, did he?" Anne said.
"No, he didn't," Ethan answered. "But you just reminded me of something! Tim, remember when you looked into the future? You saw yourself in the dorm having a really bad dream. You said the rest of us were all looking down at you in the bed. And that's just what happened!"
"You're right!" Tim exclaimed. "I'd completely forgotten it. So the Vases really do work, then."
"What if someone used those Vases or something like them to get at Tim?" Anne continued.
"I don't think the Vases work that way, I really don't," Ethan said doubtfully. "But even if they did, why curse Tim to find out about me when I was asleep in the next bed?"
"I don't know," Anne said. "It was just an idea."
"When you get out of here, let's all try to figure out what exactly happened last night," Ethan suggested. "And why!"
"Sounds good," Tim agreed. "Uh-oh, looks like your ten minutes is up!"
Indeed, Miss Abernathy was gesturing at them and pointing to the door.
As they left, Marcus called back, "Take it easy, Tim. See you soon!"
The Quidditch team crowded past the three of them as they filed through the Infirmary door. Back in the hallway, Kyle, Peter and the other first-years waited anxiously for news of Tim's condition.
"He seems good, considering what he went through," Ethan offered. "Almost himself. I'll bet he's out tomorrow or the next day."
"But does he know what really happened?" Maddie asked.
"I don't think anyone does," Marcus said. "But Flyte's talked to him. If anyone can get to the bottom of it, it'll be the old man, don't you think?"
"Yeah, Flyte knows most everything that goes on around here," Anne added.
In the event, it was Wednesday before Abernathy released Tim from the Infirmary. By then he had a good deal of homework to catch up on. Even so, Ethan managed to convene their first investigative meeting on Thursday after dinner. He and Tim joined Marcus and Anne at a table in a quiet corner of the Library to discuss Tim's experience.
"First of all," Tim said. "Bancroft and Flyte seemed to believe me when I told them it wasn't a dream."
"Well that's good to know," Ethan said. "Not that any of us have any doubts."
"Right," Marcus agreed. "Seeing you-and hearing you-that night, there's no way that was just a dream. I thought you were having some sort of seizure."
"Well, we've agreed what itwasn't," Anne remarked. "We have to decide what it really was."
"We know Tim didn't leave the room," Ethan said. "At least his body was there the whole time. So could someone have sneaked into and cursed him? Maybe in an invisibility cloak?"
"I don't think so," Anne answered. "First, they'd have to steal our password--unless it was a Bradbury, what a thought! But you all should have heard the curse, guys; a cloak wouldn't have masked sound. And Tim was still being cursed when you were all standing around him, right?"
"OK, we'll eliminate that choice," Ethan agreed.
Marcus made the next suggestion.
"Could someone have planted a false memory in his mind? I mean, people modify memories all the time. They could make it seem sort of like a dream that way."
"Maybe," Tim replied. "But who did it and when? I've been right here since September."
"I still think Brocklebank's involved," Marcus said. "Even if he couldn't do it himself, he knows plenty of upperclassmen who might."
"And there's Tiverton," Anne added. "He's already tried to get rid of Ethan and me once, if our guess is right."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Ethan interjected. "I'm not sure memory modification explains this. What about actually casting a curse from a distance? Could it be done?"
"I've never heard of it," Anne said. "Mind, if it is possible it'd be very advanced and very dark magic. Anyone who could do that would want to keep it secret."
"Yeah, but I suppose it could work," Marcus continued. It might work kind of like apparition. You have to really concentrate on the place you want to go. Maybe you could build from that; instead of going somewhere, you could send a spell."
"But you'd need to know exactly where your victim was," Anne objected.
"So what better time to try than when everyone's asleep in their dorm," Tim theorized. "This might make sense, after all."
"How'd they know which bed is yours?" Anne persisted. "And why not go right after Ethan?"
Ethan thought both these questions worth answering, but both Tim and Marcus brushed them off.
"I don't know, but it's the closest explanation for what I felt," Tim said.
"Now we have to figure out who and why," said Marcus. "My guess is that it has something to do with what you all saw last fall."
"That brings us back to Tiverton," Anne said. "I'd say he's figured out we know about the Sphinx. Maybe he needs to know how much we've learned, just in case we've found out how to get by it."
Just then a figure emerged from the book stacks nearest their table. Ethan realized they'd been talking too loudly in their eagerness. Everyone fell silent for a moment, until they realized who it was.
"Oh, hi, Peter," Ethan said.
"Oh, hi, guys!" Peter answered him, just a bit of a squeak in his voice. "Having a secret meeting without me?"
"Not anymore," Anne said with a little laugh.
"Did I hear you talking about the Sphinx?" Peter asked in a whisper.
"Yeah," said Marcus, gesturing to Peter to join them.
"Well, I think that all we can do for now is wait and see if we can find a way to catch Tiverton doing something," Anne suggested and they all agreed.
And so they waited. February passed and March was nearly over when the first opportunity for action arose. One evening, Ethan, Tim and Marcus were working on star charts in preparation for an early-morning Astronomy class. Anne was reading the Potions text in front of the fire.
The portrait door opened and Peter Powles rushed through it. He spied the boys and hurried over to their table, out of breath.
"What is it, Peter?" Ethan asked in a bemused voice.
"I think Tiverton's up to something!" he whispered excitedly. Anne had come over and was looking on curiously.
"Really? How'd you know?" Marcus asked skeptically.
"I was in the Library and I overheard Brocklebank talking to my sister," he said quickly. "He told her Tiverton needed his help on a special project after hours in a part of the school where students aren't allowed. Sounded real proud, too."
"Hm, that sounds suspicious all right," Tim said. "I think we can guess which corridor he's visiting. Did he say when, Peter?"
"Tomorrow night--at midnight," Peter answered.
"Not much time," Tim observed. "Can we do anything about it?"
"I think so, if we're careful," Ethan answered, the outlines of a plan forming in his mind. "In fact, we have to! You and me, anyway. Marcus and Anne, I think you should stay here--we may need someone to let us out and back in. Peter, we'll need you to come along."
Marcus objected. "Hey, I don't want to stay back here!"
Peter added, "Do you really want me? I don't want to see that Sphinx again!"
Ethan elaborated. "Peter's smaller than you, Marcus. We need him as a lookout. Don't worry, Peter, you won't be seeing any Sphinx!"
"What do you think we should do if Tiverton does go past the Sphinx?" Tim asked apprehensively.
"Dunno," Ethan said with a deep sigh. "Haven't really thought that far. I suppose we'll have to try and follow. But I really don't think he'd have bothered any of us if he already knew how to do that."
The next twenty-four hours seemed to take a week. Astronomy observations early Thursday morning deprived them all of a good night's rest. Ethan stumbled through his classes, both drowsy and distracted. Even phys. ed., which was another quidditch scrimmage against Tenskwatawa, couldn't keep his mind off the coming reconnaissance mission. Simon Brocklebank seemed more determined than usual to belittle Ethan and his friends. Probably getting invited to help Tiverton's gone to his head, Ethan thought to himself.
Katrina Powles played beater and managed to knock her brother clear off his broom with a bludger near the end of the session. Peter picked himself up and brushed off efforts to assist him. Katrina couldn't resist adding a taunt to the blow.
"There are more like that coming, brother--unless you behave, of course."
Peter glared at her but said nothing.
Ethan turned to Peter and said, "Don't worry about her, she's just jealous you've picked up flying so fast. Her head start's worn off quickly."
This was a heartfelt compliment. Ethan had gotten used to Katrina bullying Peter, but he was also quite impressed by Peter's new-found broom skills.
"Thanks, Ethan," Peter said as they headed back into the school building after phys.ed. But he hurried off alone, ahead of the others, up to Bradbury Tower.
Just after 11:30, Ethan slipped out of his bed and retrieved the amulet from the bottom of his trunk. Tim, Marcus and Peter each emerged from their four-posters in turn, leaving only Kyle snoring peacefully in his bed.
The four of them descended the stairs to the common room, where they found Anne waiting by the door. She opened it as Ethan drew out the amulet.
"Good luck," Marcus whispered.
Ethan was surprised that the chain fit around all three of them. He saw Marcus gaping at their sudden disappearance. Anne waved and swung the door shut.
The school was quiet as death. Ethan found the silence unnerving as they found their way down to the main floor and over to the opposite wing. They saw a number of the ghosts flitting silently above them. More unnerving to Ethan was Peter's obvious terror. Ethan wondered if he'd made a mistake bringing him along.
Near the main entrance, Tim stopped short and the others nearly tripped over him. He pointed and Ethan saw two lanterns seemingly floating near the door. As he focused, he saw that Beadle was letting Standish out of the building. The keeper then swung his lantern around and headed down the hallway to the right. Manfred the crow was perched on his shoulder; as Beadle started down the stair to his quarters, the crow gave one loud "caw!" Beadle looked around suspiciously, shrugged and continued down the stairs.
The three boys continued down to the level where they'd found the Sphinx. As they neared the side hall that led to the room marked with the rune, Ethan saw that the snake statue had been replaced with a figure of a wizard with an oddly reptilian nose and slit-like eyes--Ethan thought the new statue far more sinister than its predecessor.
But he also noticed that the statue, sinister or not, would make an excellent hiding spot.
"Let's wait here and see what happens," Ethan whispered to the others. The three of them huddled between the statue's back and the wall. They could peer out into the hall over the left arm of the wizard.
In the distance a clock struck midnight. Ethan tensed, wondering when Tiverton and Brocklebank would appear. Ten more minutes passed with no activity. Then something stirred down the side hall.
"What was that?" Tim asked. Peter shivered.
"Dunno," said Ethan. Another sound echoed in the hall. This time Ethan was sure it was a footstep.
"There's someone down there, but I can't see anything," Tim said.
"Let's go see, but carefully," Ethan suggested. "Peter, you stay here. If we're not back in ten minutes, head back and tell Marcus."
"You're leaving me here?" Peter said in a forlorn whisper.
"Don't worry," Tim said reassuringly. "You'll be nearly invisible if you stay right here."
"And you might meet the Sphinx again, if you came with us," Ethan reminded him.
"OK," Peter agreed reluctantly. "But hurry back!"
Ethan lifted the chain over Peter's head.
"Now I can't even see you," Peter squeaked. "How will I know where you are?"
"We're just going down across from the door with the rune," Ethan whispered. "I'll whisper when we get back. Now be quiet, Peter, please!"
Ethan and Tim slowly moved down the hall towards the marked door and the noises they'd heard. They stopped on the opposite side of the hall from the door. The lightning bolt rune glowed gold in the dark corridor. Ethan looked back towards Peter, but he couldn't make him out. That's good, he thought. If I can't see him, nobody else will either.
Tim tapped him on the shoulder and pointed the other way. A figure holding a lantern was moving slowly down the corridor towards them.
Ethan strained to make out the approaching figure. He waited eagerly to see what Tiverton was up to. But something seemed amiss. The figure was alone. Where was Brocklebank? Maybe Tiverton decided he couldn't trust him. Ethan smirked at the thought. But something else bothered him as the figure grew more distinct; this person was definitely too tall to be Tiverton.
With a shock, Ethan recognized who was striding down the corridor towards them. It was a tall, curly-haired wizard with a Roman nose, wearing a burgundy robe. At about the same time, Tim nudged him. Ethan looked at him and each mouthed the name "Bancroft" to each other. Tim was evidently as dumbfounded as Ethan at the appearance of their house master.
Bancroft stopped for a long moment before the rune-marked door. He held his lantern high and looked suspiciously back and forth. Ethan shrank against the wall, as did Tim. He knew Bancroft couldn't see them, but if he tripped over them, they'd be caught just the same.
"All clear, then," Bancroft finally muttered to himself. He continued down the corridor towards its junction with the main hallway. I hope Peter stays behind that statue, Ethan thought. He listened to Bancroft's footsteps as they faded into the distance. All seemed quiet once again.
"That was too close!" Tim whispered. "Now what do we do?"
"Wait for Tiverton," Ethan said, sounding more certain than he felt.
"How many teachers do you think are wandering around here?" Tim asked. "Shouldn't we go?"
"Maybe Bancroft just has patrol duty tonight," Ethan suggested. "Tiverton would know that and he'd wait until the coast was clear. We just need to be patient."
As they waited, Ethan contemplated the jagged rune on the door across the way. Anne had told them it was a rune of protection, but what did that mean? He supposed it must protect what was hidden within--the talisman. But it didn't keep me out, did it? As he wondered, Ethan was startled to realize that there was also writing on the door beneath the rune.
He pointed this out to Tim.
"Maybe we just missed it before," Tim said. "After all, we were trying to escape Beadle and the Sphinx at the time."
"No, I looked really hard at the door before any of that happened," Ethan insisted. "There wasn't any other writing then. I want to have a look."
Ethan took out his wand and quietly said "Lumos!" The tip of his wand cast a small but bright light.
To his chagrin, Ethan saw that the light wasn't carrying to the door; instead, it seemed to bounce back into his eyes.
"Ethan, cut it out, please!" Tim whispered, holding a hand over his eyes. "You're blinding me!"
"Nox!" Ethan said quickly and the light went out.
"Sorry," he said. "That's odd. I wonder, maybe the amulet keeps the light from being seen, too?"
"Well if so, please don't try anything more dangerous while we're wearing it, OK?" Tim said, rubbing his eyes. "I don't want to know what "Alohomora!" does when it bounces back at you."
"OK, but I need to read that writing," Ethan said. "Let's take the amulet off for a minute."
"Just for a minute," Tim agreed.
Ethan slipped the amulet off and set it carefully on the floor, then lit his wand tip again. This time the light clearly revealed a single sentence on the door:
What you fear will be found in here.
"That's helpful!" Tim shrugged. "We already know what's in there. And you'd be nuts not to fear a Sphinx!"
"But is that all it means?" Ethan asked.
The two of them stood looking at the words on the door for a moment.
Then Ethan distinctly heard a squeaky cry at the end of the hallway.
"Out with you!" Bancroft's voice commanded. "Powles, what the devil are you doing skulking around here?"
Ethan and Tim froze. The next moment, Bancroft's lantern was shining down at them. There would be no escape this time.