Chapter Nine: The Owl in the Kitchen

The weather remained horrible for the rest of the week, and even Caprice had been forced to postpone an extra training session with her Gryffindor team. Instead, she'd ordered her players into a spare classroom to talk them through tactics for the weekend's game against Slytherin.

For the first time ever, Albus wasn't looking forward to watching a Quidditch match. On Saturday morning he awoke to the sound of heavy rain lashing against the dormitory window, combined with the biting chill of the squalling autumn wind that was battering the tower. Leon had gone down to the pitch early looking pale and nervous, these were not the conditions he wanted to make his debut in.

"You know," said Matt, as he pulled a poncho over his four layers of jumpers, "as much as I want Leon to score some goals, I also wouldn't mind James catching the Snitch inside thirty seconds"

Albus, Bertie, and Shaun all nodded their agreement as they put on an assortment of hats, gloves, and waterproofs. This was not the day for a long, drawn-out, match.

The route from the castle to the Quidditch pitch had become cut up and boggy underneath the hundreds of feet walking across it. Despite the conditions, the stadium was likely to be packed. Albus took his place amongst his housemates, wrinkling his nose at the amount of mud on the back of his leg. Next to him, Sophie was struggling with her umbrella, whilst Bertie's face paint had given up early, the red letters were now smeared over his face, making him look like he'd been attacked.

"And here come the teams," said the announcer, barely audible over the roaring wind.

There was no drawn-out announcement or theatrics today, both teams had taken their places to start the game as soon as they left the tunnel. Some of them were visibly shivering as they gripped their brooms, and Albus could see Leon blowing into his hands to stop them from seizing up. High above the rest, James' attention was fixed on the case of balls on the ground below.

Wood kicked the case open, releasing the two Bludgers and the Golden Snitch into the sky. Picking up the Quaffle, Wood raised his whistle to his lips and blew as hard as he could into it, it was the only way it would be heard over the howling gale.

"And they're off, I think" shouted the announcer, "Someone has the ball, probably a Slytherin given they're flying towards the Gryffindor goal"

It wasn't the fast and furious Quidditch that Albus had been treated to during the World Cup, both of the teams here were more concerned with not falling off their brooms. The Slytherin managed to breach the sluggish Gryffindor defence, but their throw was weak as the soaking Quaffle slipped from their grip.

"Oh, and that's a bad miss," said the announcer, "Not great from…Milton? Maybe Huckerby? Oh, who cares, Gryffindor have the Quaffle now with…Flynn?"

Caprice Flynn, if that's who actually had the Quaffle was zooming towards the Slytherin goalposts. The cheers of the Gryffindor supporters grew louder as she got closer, but they turned to groans as she shot straight at the keeper, who then booted the Quaffle forward towards one of their chasers. The chaser hovered waiting for it to reach them, but it flew straight through their hands and made a satisfying thud as it hit the muddy ground, prompting ironic cheers from the Gryffindors.

"This is ridiculous" complained Rose, who was battling to keep her hood from coming off, "I can hardly follow what's happening!"

Matt took it upon himself to stand in front of Rose and act as a windbreak for her whilst she tightened the strings on her hood, "Could be worse, I once watched the Wimbourne Wasps play the Holyhead Harpies in a force nine gale, we saw a grand total of one goal before the game was postponed"

"Fascinating" huffed Rose, who had finally wrestled her hood into place, "Has anyone scored yet?"

The answer was a clear 'no', and Albus was forced to watch Leon let two rather simple passes drop to the ground in a row. Both teams were struggling to complete their passes, but the Slytherin crowd had latched onto the debutant Gryffindor and were giving him more grief than the others.

"Come on Leon!" shouted Matt, slapping his hands together, "Shut those Slytherin fu-" he was cut off by an errant beaters bat that had slipped from the Gryffindor beater, Edmundson's, hand as he aimed a Bludger towards the nearest Slytherin player. The bat missed Matt's head by an inch and landed at the feet of a third-year who was standing behind him.

"Sorry" he grunted, as the third year passed it back to him. He was shivering as he flew back towards the action.

"Blimey" breathed Matt, "Nearly took my head off"

Rose smirked, "I won't say that would've been an improvement…"

Matt opened his mouth to respond, but instead, he just shook his head and turned his attention back to the match, "Can someone just score!" he cried.

He got his wish, but it was the Slytherins who were celebrating as Huckerby squeezed the ball past Walton, who was at full stretch trying to keep it out. Rather than the raucous cheers that would normally accompany this, the Slytherins just seemed to be relieved that they finally had an excuse to jump around and warm themselves up slightly.

"And that is a goal, if anyone remembers what one of those is," said the Announcer to laughter, "10-0 to Slytherin and this game could now burst into life!"

It didn't. The disconnected passages of play continued for several minutes as both teams made a valiant effort to break the record for the most number of Quaffle drops in a single game. The sodden ground was now littered with muddy divots where the Quaffle had landed and sunk in.

"Flynn, Wilson, back to Flynn, pass over to Newland who…drops it", groaned the ever more bored sounding announcer.

This was becoming a familiar pattern, and the Slytherins were revelling in it. It almost looked like the Slytherins had given up trying to score, and were just enjoying watching the Gryffindor team making a meal out of the most basic passes. At one point Caprice Flynn flew over to Wood in a vain attempt to get the game stopped, but he just shook his head and flew away.

"I've never been more unhappy," said Matt, pushing his soaking-wet fringe out of his eyes.

Albus clapped his hands together to generate some warmth, "I feel sorry for the Seekers, it must be freezing up there". He looked upwards, trying to spot them amongst the black cloud. A crimson speck was just about visible circling above them, but there was no sign that they could see the Snitch anywhere.

"Can the Snitch get blown off course?" asked Bertie, his face paint now completely gone.

Matt shook his head, "Nah, it's bewitched to stay within the bounds of the stadium, so it should be around somewhere"

"I'm more worried about them getting struck by lightning!" said Sophie. As if on cue, a long fork of blue electricity shot across the sky over the Black Lake.

The Announcer cleared his throat, "Referee Wood has just informed me that this game may be postponed if that lightning gets any closer. He is also keen to stress that Quidditch is not worth dying over, unless you happen to play for a team he's captaining".

Albus could tell that Wood shot the announcer a dirty look once he said that, but he bellowed some instructions to the two Captains about wanting the game to get a move on.

Flynn shouted something along the lines of "We're trying our best", though using language that would normally land her in detention. She hollered up to James, "Catch that damn Snitch before I kick you off the team!"

It looked like James did a salute in response and he moved around the sky with more purpose, scanning it for any sign of the Snitch. Below him, the game was petering out as both sides effectively gave up trying to attack the goalposts and were instead just passing the ball as carefully as they could, in a vain attempt to lessen the jeers from the crowd.

"Oh, thank god!" said Matt, pointing upwards.

The others followed his finger and saw James zooming across the sky, presumably towards the Snitch. The Slytherin Seeker hadn't spotted James moving and was still hovering at the opposite end of the pitch searching the skies for a sight of the small gold ball. Instead, it was James flying in pursuit and just inches away. The usual crescendo that accompanied this event was more muted, probably because half the crowd hadn't seen it, but the Gryffindors raised the volume by themselves as James stuck his hand out and clasped onto the Snitch.

"It looks like Potter's got it!" said the Announcer, "Thank Merlin for that, Gryffindor win 150 points to 10, a true classic…" he added, sarcastically. "Mr Filch has handed me a note to say that students should avoid bringing mud into the castle…good luck with that one!"

James gave a quick fist pump towards the crowd before making a beeline for the changing rooms, the rest of the team had already vacated the arena as soon as the result was confirmed.

The stands emptied as quickly as they could as everyone was keen to get back indoors before the lighting storm got any closer. The wooden steps of the stands were treacherously wet, but save for a couple of close calls with some First Years nearly slipping down them, the whole school was soon back inside the castle. Mr Filch greeted them as they entered, ordering everyone to remove their shoes before they brought too much mud in. Everyone was too wet and tired to argue, though this didn't stop him from barking at anyone he deemed to have been too slow at complying.

As Albus made his way up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room he winced at some splodges of mud on some of the suits of armour, knowing that he'd have to clean that off before long.

It was clear that the party was just building up inside the common room once Albus entered it, the floor was being cleared and tables were being moved into place by some of the older students. The girls immediately rushed upstairs to their dormitory, leaving Albus, Bertie, Matt and Shaun standing in the middle of the room, dripping with water and still clasping their muddy shoes.

"What the heck am I supposed to do with these?" said Matt, referring to his shoes.

"Bring them up, I can clean them," said Bertie, leading them into the boy's dormitory.

He lined up the boys' shoes on the floor, pointed his wand at each of them in turn and said "Scourgify". There was a green flash and the mud disappeared.

"Legend," said Matt, grinning, "Reckon you can do all our laundry from now on?"

"No thanks," said Bertie, who dumped his soaking jumper into the nearby laundry basket, as if to emphasise the point. There was a muffled sound from inside the basket, and Bertie hesitated. "Um…" he said, daring to peer inside, "Ahh!" he leapt back several feet and pointed at the tall basket. "There's a…"

"What?" asked Albus, walking towards the basket and looking inside. There was indeed something in there moving slightly. He gently moved a shirt away and uncovered whatever it was that was inside. "Hold on, Woozy?" he gasped. Woozy the house-elf was having a sleep inside the basket, completely dead to the world.

"Woozy?" asked Matt, "What's a Woozy?"

Albus didn't respond. He gave Woozy a quick poke on the arm to wake him up, but he just shivered slightly and yawned. "Come on, just wake up". He poked him again, and this time Woozy stirred.

Blinking, he looked up at Albus with narrow eyes and a lopsided expression, some dried drool was visible on his cheek. "Sir…Albus?" he said sleepily.

"Yes, it's Albus. What in Merlin's name are you doing in there?"

Woozy pulled himself up and held onto the side of the basket, his large ears slowly poking over the top, followed by a pair of large eyes that scanned the room, "Oh" he exclaimed, "Bad Woozy!" he wailed, before starting to smack his head against the basket, not that he could do himself much damage against the wicker frame.

"Woozy, stop!" shouted Albus, picking him up by his loincloth and holding him at arm's length like an unruly baby. "Please stop doing that" he begged before putting him down on the floor.

"Apologies, Sir Albus," he said, rubbing his head, "Woozy is supposed to be collecting laundry from the dormitories, but Woozy was so tired" he yawned and stretched his arms, "Woozy hasn't been sleeping, and my master has been working Woozy so hard" he started to sob, "Woozy had to sleep! Sir Albus won't say anything to my master, will he?" he wailed.

Albus shook his head, "No, I won't" he looked at the others, who were all staring in wide-eyed shock at Woozy, "Why don't you bring the laundry to your master now?"

Woozy's eyes snapped straight to him, "My master doesn't want the laundry, Sir Albus, no no no!". He went stiff and started to tremble, Albus could sense what was about to happen, and he grabbed a fistful of his loincloth to stop him from running head-first into the nearest bedpost. Woozy struggled, but Albus clung on.

"Ok, ok!" said Albus, "I'm sorry, why don't I help you bring the laundry down to wherever it needs to be taken?"

Woozy stopped struggling and looked up at Albus, "Sir Albus is too kind to Woozy, but I don't think my master will like it"

"Well, your master can deal with me then" replied Albus, reaching into the laundry basket and picking up an armful of dirty clothes, he regrated this after grabbing a pair of Matt's underwear. "Come on, you lead the way"

"Hold on!" said Matt, standing up, "Aren't you going to explain what the hell's going on here?"

"Later," said Albus before turning to Bertie, "Give me a hand"

Bertie looked stunned but obliged, picking up some more laundry. "S-sure," he said, "Hi, Woozy, I'm Bertie," he said anxiously.

"Open the door for us, Matt," said Albus.

Matt nodded and tiptoed towards the door, keeping a wary eye on Woozy. He pushed the door open and jumped away as the three made their way out of the dormitory.

The Common Room was filling up, but they were all too engrossed in the match to pay them any attention. Once they'd left the Common Room and started to take the long walk down towards the laundry room, Bertie spoke in Albus' ear.

"So that's the one you saw in the bathroom the other day?"

Albus nodded, "Yep"

"Now he's hiding in our laundry basket?"

"He wasn't hiding" Albus insisted, stealing an uncertain glance behind him at Woozy, who was waddling under the weight of the laundry, "He just fell asleep"

Bertie followed his gaze and looked nervously at Woozy, "Doesn't it seem a bit odd to you?" he whispered.

Albus hesitated and looked away from the house-elf, taking care to step around a muddy First Year who was trudging up the stairs. "I guess he just works hard" shrugged Albus, "You should've heard him talking about his 'master' back in the bathroom, I doubt he gets much time to rest"

Bertie looked at him uncertainly but nodded in agreement.

The laundry room was located in the basement, just a stone's throw away from the much dingier dungeons. Unlike the dungeons, the walls were not covered in moss, or damp to the touch, instead, the basement felt warm and cosy. Woozy led them past a row of large barrels, that Albus assumed must contain Butterbeer and Pumpkin Juice. They came to a halt by a narrow door that was nestled in between two of the barrels, Albus would never have known it was there if Woozy hadn't been guiding them.

Woozy stood in front of the door and gulped before standing up on his tip toes and reaching up to hit the knocker three times. The door opened immediately and the pointy face of a rake-thin house-elf stared out. It made eye contact with Woozy, who hid his face behind his laundry.

"Finally 'ere are ya?" said the house-elf in a shrill voice, this house-elf was female. She picked up a clipboard and ticked something off with a pencil, "Gryffindor boys, Second Year…late" she crossed her arms and stared at Woozy, who was now quivering on the spot. "Well?" barked the house-elf.

Woozy yelped, "Woozy is sorry, Polley! I-it won't happen again!"

"I shoul' fink not!" screeched Polley, stamping her foot to emphasise the point, "Now drop that lot off and get to the kitchens, Grimey needs a hand!"

"Ye-yes!" exclaimed Woozy, sprinting into the laundry and dropping his pile into a large round vat.

Albus stepped into the laundry behind him but he felt a sharp boney finger in his abdomen, "Ow!"

"What's this one doin'?" asked Polley, who stepped across Albus, blocking his way.

"I was helping Woozy carry some of the laundry down" answered Albus, calmly.

Polley's eye twitched, "'elping!?" her head spun around to look at Woozy, who looked sheepish. "What's our job, Woozy?"

"T-to…always s-stay out of…s-sight"

Polley nodded and turned her long nose up at Woozy, "That's right. We do our job quietly, much easier that way" she pointed at Woozy, "One more incident like that and you'll be outta 'ere"

Albus gave Woozy an apologetic look and turned to Polley, "Please don't be mad at Woozy, it was my idea to help" he closed his eyes and sighed, "He did say that his master would be unhappy…"

Polley's ears pricked, "Eh, 'master'?"

Woozy jumped towards Albus and grabbed his pile of clothes, immediately throwing the into the vat of bubbling water, then doing the same with Bertie's. He then grabbed Albus's robes and tried to guide him away from Polley.

"What are you doing?" asked Albus, as he was forced to take a step forward behind Woozy.

"Woozy needs to help Grimey" panted Woozy as he left the laundry, leaving Polley staring at them with her mouth agape.

Once all three of them were outside Woozy closed the door, leaving them alone in the orange-lit basement. Albus and Bertie both looked at each other, perplexed, then they looked down at Woozy, who was staring into space and shaking.

Albus leant down and touched Woozy on the shoulder, "Are you ok?" He didn't answer. "I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble, I'll go back in and tell Polley the full story if you want me to"

"No!" snapped Woozy, "Woozy is fine, Woozy needs to go to Grimey"

"Right…" said Albus, slowly standing up, "And where's Grimey?"

"Kitchen" answered Woozy, who started to walk down the corridor, "Can't let Master be angry at Woozy…" he said to himself.

"Isn't Polley your master?" asked Bertie

Woozy turned around to look at him, "No, young sir, Polley is not my master" he spoke with a conviction that Albus hadn't heard before.

"Woozy?" said Albus, stepping towards him, "Who is your master?"

Woozy's eyes seemed to detach, just as they had done in the bathroom that evening. His gaze fell around the corridor aimlessly before they reattached again and looked at Albus, "My Master can't be angry at Woozy"

Albus started to continue talking when he was interrupted by the surprising sight of a mud-soaked James walking towards him.

"Al! What are you doing down here?" he said, a large grin on his face. "You enjoy the match?"

Albus was taken aback, "Um, yeah? What are you doing down here?"

"Trying to grab some drinks for the party, but Grimey says it's not 'sanitary' for me to be down here when I 'look like this'. Can you believe him?" he asked, sounding annoyed.

Deciding that it was better to just agree, Albus nodded, "Yeah, doesn't make any sense" he struggled to contain his laughter.

James sighed and clapped his hands together, spraying mud over the floor, "Good thing you're down here then! Pick us up a couple of barrels of Butterbeer, thanks very much!" He started to walk off, leaving muddy footprints in his wake. "Just tell them I sent you" he called back before rounding the corner and going out of sight.

Albus thought about calling after him but decided against it. He looked at Bertie and shook his head, "I am going to kill him, one day…" he said, taking a deep breath. "Where are the kitchens, Woozy? I hope it won't be a problem if we go there as well"

Woozy shook his head slowly and lead the pair of them along the corridor until they reached a painting of a fruit bowl, tantalisingly placed on its own at the end of the corridor. The tiny house-elf had to reach up to tickle the image of a pear. Albus was surprised to hear the portrait giggle, then he watched it swing open to reveal a large and busy kitchen.

It was a hive of activity with dozens of house-elves running around tending to pots and preparing food along the side of the room. Every so often a house-elf would levitate a platter of prepared food onto one of the four long tables in the middle of the room, where it would promptly disappear with a slight 'pop'.

Woozy stepped into the room and beckoned Albus and Bertie to follow. They walked down the middle of the room towards a raised table where a haggard-looking house-elf was standing and barking out orders.

"Get a move on you lot, the kiddies always need feeding after a match" he called out to a group of elves who were peeling potatoes faster than Albus had ever seen.

Woozy gulped and stepped up to the table, "Sir Grimey, I'm here now"

Grimey didn't notice him at first, instead choosing to brandish a wooden spoon in the direction of another elf who had put his knife down for a split second too long between cutting up potatoes.

"Sir…" said Woozy, again.

"Yes yes yes, I can see you, Woozy" sighed Grimey, "Third time this week you've been late!" barked Grimey, "Get to your station and help make the stew! We've got a whole school to feed!"

Grimey tapped his foot as Woozy sprinted to the wall where another elf was looking haggard as he stirred two pots of stew simultaneously. Finally satisfied, he turned to Albus and Bertie.

"What do you two want?" he barked

Albus jumped, "Um, we just want some Butterbeer for the Gryffindor common room party, James sent us" he added, hastily.

"That boy" Grimey snorted, "Comes down here covered in mud and putting footprints all over the floor, then expects me to just hand him some drinks, pfft" he shook his head, then waved in the direction of a stack of barrels along the far wall of the kitchen, "Take what you need"

Surprised at the willingness Grimey had shown, Albus thanked him quickly and walked to the back of the room. He and Bertie tested the weight of one of the barrels and figured that they could carry one each upstairs, albeit quite slowly. Bertie shifted one onto the floor and took a step back.

"It might be easier if we levitate it" he suggested

"All the way back to the Common Room? I don't think either of us could levitate something for that long" said Albus, shaking his head.

"Has to be easier than carrying it though," said Bertie.

Albus felt a tug at his leg, he glanced down to see Woozy there, "Oh, hello"

"Sir Albus should let Woozy take them upstairs for him, it's the least Woozy could do," he said, his eyes looking even larger than normal.

Albus looked at Bertie, who gave him an uncertain shrug, "Ok, sure, thanks for the offer Woo-"

Woozy snapped his fingers, causing the pile of barrels to tumble over onto the stone-flagged floor. A couple of them burst, throwing golden Butterbeer over a pair of unsuspecting elves. The initial, deafening, sound was immediately followed by a devastating silence. Every single eyeball in the room was focused on Woozy, who was now cowering in a foaming pool of liquid that was at his feet. His eyes were tightly shut.

A loud voice cut through the silence, "Woozy!" Grimey was marching up the aisle towards him, "Get out of here and go to bed! Honestly, what has gotten into you?"

Sobbing, Woozy fell to his knees and hid his eyes behind his hands, "Woozy is sorry!" he wailed, "Woozy will try to fix it!"

Both Albus and Bertie leapt forward at this point to stop Woozy from snapping his fingers again, "It's ok, Woozy, let us sort it out!" said Albus, giving Bertie a 'help me out' look.

Bertie pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the shattered barrels on the floor and muttered "Reparo". The debris snapped together, but the Butterbeer was long gone and running into a nearby drain in the floor.

Grimey scowled at the three of them and clapped his hands together three times. Three of the still intact barrels disappeared with a 'pop'. "There," he stated, "They're now in the Common Room". He turned his attention to the sobbing Woozy, "Bed. Now" he snapped.

This time, Woozy wiped his runny nose and nodded. He picked himself up off the floor and slumped his way towards the door and out of sight. Albus watched him go and then looked at Grimey, who was shaking his head and inspecting the foaming mess at his feet.

"Just can't get the staff!" growled Grimey, who looked back at the other house-elves, who had all stopped working to watch the scene unfold. "Get back to work, and get this cleaned up! As for you two", he said, looking at Albus and Bertie, "Get out of here!"

Albus was quick to agree and he tried to pull Bertie out with him. He, however, was looking intently at the wall behind the barrels, the part that had recently been obscured by the barrels.

"What is it?" asked Albus.

Bertie pointed at the wall, "Look, can't you see it?"

Leaning in, Albus narrowed his eyes and focused on where Bertie was pointing. It was hard to make out, but it looked like something had been carved into the wall. Albus pulled out his wand and muttered, "Lumos". The end of his wand lit up, illuminating the small alcove he was looking into. Now lit up, Albus could make out what it was.

"An owl?" said Albus, confused, "That's a bit random"

Bertie shook his head, "Look at it carefully, it's definitely the same owl that's in the book". Albus looked at him blankly, "It's Valerio Vitanster's symbol!" said Bertie in wide-eyed excitement.

Albus quickly looked around the room, the elves had all gotten back to work and were no longer paying the pair of them any attention. He turned back to Bertie, "You're sure?"

"Positive," said Bertie, "What on earth is it doing in here?"

Albus didn't answer, he reached out and ran his fingers along the carving. It was smooth and dirty, faded by time, but it was clearly the same as the one that appeared so frequently in the Grimoire. His finger reached the right ear of the owl when he felt the stone brick move slightly.

"I think there's something behind it," said Albus, his heart beating audibly in his chest. He reached back in and pressed the stone again, feeling the ever-so-slight movement in it. "I don't think it's going to budge"

"Maybe it needs a password" suggested Bertie, who also tried to move the stone enough to reveal whatever may be behind it.

"No, look, it's moving," said Albus, who had been able to get a grip around the edge of the stone.

He pulled at it firmly as it fit snugly inside the gap, but with enough give to suggest that it had maybe been moved recently. It took some time, but eventually, Albus was able to pull it out. Pointing his illuminated wand at the hole revealed a small alcove cut directly into the wall. For a moment it looked like it was empty, but Bertie reached in and pulled something out.

"What is it?" said Albus in a low voice, aware that they were attracting some attention from the house-elves.

Bertie turned the object over in his hands. It was made out of wood and seemed to have been treated with some sort of varnish, as it was shiny. Some faint markings were visible on the surface and Albus had to squint at it to try and make them out.

"It's runic," said Bertie, holding it up into the light, "And look at the shape of it". Handing it to Albus, Bertie then put the stone back in place over the hole, before nudging him, "Come on, we should get out of here before someone asks what we're doing"

Albus nodded, still looking at the wooden object. It was peculiarly shaped with a round edge on one side and a series of long, toothlike, protrusions on the other two. Upon closer inspection, Albus could see that each of them was shaped in such a way that it could link together with others of a similar shape.

At Bertie's urging, they left the kitchen and walked out into the basement. It was quiet and they felt safe enough to talk.

"It looks like a quarter of something," said Albus, looking at it from every angle and thinking things through in his head, "This has to have something to do with the laboratory"

Bertie pondered for a moment and took the object off Albus and looked at the writing, "Whatever these runes say, I don't think it's going to make any sense until we get the whole thing". He looked at it closely and turned the object over, the other side was etched with interconnected lines. Then, inexplicably, he raised it to his nose and sniffed it. "Hmm, it smells of something flowery, maybe lavender?"

"Lavender? How do you know that?" asked Albus, impressed.

The sound of footsteps and excited voices came from the nearby stairwell, prompting Bertie to pocket the object. A group of Gryffindor's noisily walked past them and into the kitchen, clearly on the hunt for more party provisions.

"Let's get out of here," said Bertie, eager to return to the common room before people wondered why they'd been gone so long.

The party was in full swing once inside the common room, even after a terrible game the Gryffindor's never missed an excuse to let their hair down. James was in one corner of the room wearing an odd assortment of clothes that Albus suspected were the only ones he had that were dry and clean. He was surrounded by the rest of the Gryffindor team, with one notable exception.

Albus found the other second years next to the fireplace, "Where's Leon?" he asked them.

"Upstairs" answered Matt, glumly, "I wouldn't go up there, he's in a bit of a state"

"That doesn't sound like Leon," said Bertie, helping himself to a spare Jelly Slug that was inching its way across the table.

Matt shrugged, "He felt like he had a bit of a shocker today"

"That's ridiculous, he was no better or worse than anyone else," said Albus

"Well, that's not how he's taking it" sighed Matt, "I've tried talking to him, so has James, and Caprice, and everyone else in the team"

Albus saw Bertie feel the pocket where he'd put the wooden object, "Well, we need to go up there" he said, looking up the stairs.

With half a laugh, Matt replied, "Fine, just don't mention the game!"

Giving Bertie a slight tug on his sleeve, they went upstairs towards the dormitory. They didn't go straight in, instead stopping outside the door.

"We need to keep that thing safe until we can look at it properly," said Albus.

Bertie took it out of his pocket and looked at it again, "Sure, but where?"

"In my trunk"

Shaking his head Bertie replied, "I don't think it's a good idea to keep it with the book, we should keep it in mine"

Albus wasn't completely happy with this, but they didn't have time to argue about it. Nodding, they quietly entered the dormitory. It was quiet and dark, as half the candles had been extinguished. Leons' bed was occupied, but the person on it was curled up into a ball and completely covered by the duvet. Bertie tiptoed over to his trunk and opened it as quietly as possible, depositing the object inside. As he made his way back towards the door, he accidentally knocked into one of the tall candlesticks, causing it to wobble in place.

The duvet shifted and Leon's head popped out of the top. He turned to face them, revealing a pair of red eyes. "Oh, it's you" he grumbled.

"We were just leaving!" said Bertie, quickly.

There was another grumble from the duvet and Leon's head disappeared from view. Realising that Leon was in no mood at all to talk, they left the dormitory and stood outside the door.

"He does not seem good," said Albus in a low voice, "I'm sure he'll be ok though"

Bertie didn't answer, he was looked down with his thinking face on. Albus snapped his fingers.

"Earth to Bertie," he said.

Bertie looked up with his thinking face looking even more concentrated, "Why was it in the kitchen?" he finally said.

"Come again?"

"The owl symbol. Why would someone put it there?" he asked.

They looked at each other, both trying to work it out for themselves. Seconds passed as they worked through the problem in their heads. Their eyes met, and they couldn't help but laugh.

Shaking their heads at yet another problem to solve, they walked back downstairs to re-join the party and, for now at least, put everything else to one side.