Chapter 12

Silver and Opals

KIARA

I wondered not only where Crighton was, but also, what was she doing? I caught sight of the Headmistress only twice over the next few weeks. She rarely appeared at meals any more, and I was sure Sian was right in thinking that she was leaving the school for days at a time. I wondered if Crighton had forgotten about the lessons she was supposed to be giving Sian and I. Crighton had said that the lessons were leading to something to do with the prophecy; I had felt bolstered, comforted, and now I felt slightly abandoned.

Halfway through October came our first trip of the term to Dragsmeade. I had wondered whether these trips would still be allowed, given the increasingly tight security measures around the school, but I was pleased to know that they were going ahead; it was always good to get out of the castle grounds for a few hours.

I woke early on the morning of the trip, which was proving stormy, and I whiled away the time until breakfast by rereading my copy of Advanced Potion-Making. I did not usually lie in reading my textbooks; that sort of behaviour, as Chris and Chrissie both rightly said, was indecent in anybody except Sian, who was simply ... odd that way - although, if I remember rightly, she did have a copy of Jane Eyre on her bedside table that she was reading at night. Anyhoo, I felt, however, that the Half-Blood Princess' copy of Advanced Potion-Making hardly qualified as a textbook. The more I pored over the book, the more I realised how much was in there, not only the handy hints and short cuts on potions that were earning me such a glowing reputation with Beadu, but also that imaginative little jinxes and hexes scribbled in the margins which I was sure, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, that the Princess had invented herself.

I had already attempted a few of the Princess' self-invented spells. There had been a hex that caused toenails to grow alarmingly fast (I had tried this on Crate in the corridor, with very entertaining results); a jinx the glued the tongue to the roof of the mouth (which I had twice used, to general applause, on an unsuspecting Douglas Match); and, perhaps most useful of all, Muffliato, a spell that filled the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held in class without being overheard. The only person who did not find these charms amusing was Sian, who maintained a rigidly disapproving expression throughout and refused to talk to me at all if I had used the Muffliato spell on anyone in the vicinity.

Sitting up in bed, I turned the book sideways so as to examine more closely the scribbled instructions for a spell that seemed to have caused the Princess some trouble. There were many crossings-out and alterations, but finally, crammed into a corner of the page, the scribble:

Levicorpus (n-vbl)

While the wind and sleet pounded relentlessly on the windows and Chrissie snored loudly, I stared at the letters in brackets. N-vbl ... that had to mean non-verbal. I rather doubted I would be able to bring off this particular spell; I was still having trouble with non-verbal spells, something Triphorm had been quick to comment on in every Defence Against the Dark Arts class. On the other hand, the Princess had proved a much more effective teacher than Triphorm so far.

Pointing my wand at nothing in particular, I gave it an upward flick and said Levicorpus! inside my head.

"Aaaaaaargh!"

There was a flash of light and the room was full of voices: everyone else had woken up as Chrissie had let out a yell. I sent Advanced Potion-Making flying in panic; Chrissie was dangling upside-down in mid-air as though an invisible hook had hoistered her up by the ankle. She was trying to cover up her knickers with her nightgown, as her face reddened in embarrassment.

Beth and Merida were laughing merrily, and Kestrel, after she had gotten over her initial shock at Chrissie's yell, was chuckling weakly. I was laughing too, until -

"Get my sister down now, Kiara!"

Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel, Merida and I stopped laughing the moment we had heard Sian's loud, thunderous voice crashing in on our joy. We all turned to face her, and saw that Sian had eyes for no one but me. Her face was a mixture of shock, horror and outrage; her eyes were wide and unblinking and her nostrils were flared. Beth, Kestrel and Merida all seemed to cower under her stare, and even I was frightened of her in that moment. Chrissie, wisely, chose to say nothing.

"Get. Her. Down," Sian repeated in a deadly voice. I gulped nervously, and groped for the potion book with trembling hands, and rifled through it hurriedly, trying to find the page; at last I located it and deciphered one cramped word underneath the spell: praying that this was the counter-jinx, I thought Liberacorpus! with all my might.

There was another flash of light and Chrissie fell in a heap on to her mattress.

I turned to look nervously at Sian, whose expression still looked quite dangerous. "Sorry, Sian," I said anxiously.

Sian shook her head furiously, before she threw off the covers and leapt out of bed.

By the time we had got dressed, padding ourselves out with several of Sian's hand-knitted sweaters and carrying cloaks, scarves and gloves, Chrissie's shock had subsided and she had decided that my new spell was highly amusing - unlike Sian, who was treating me with frosty indifference. Anyhoo, Chrissie found the spell so amusing, in fact, that she lost no time in regaling Chris with the story as we sat down for breakfast.

" ... and then there was another flash of light, and I landed on the bed again!" grinned Chrissie, helping herself to sausages.

Chris laughed, but stopped quickly at the look on Sian's face. I looked at her, and found her studying me with an expression of wintry disapproval.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of yours?" she asked.

I frowned at her.

"Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Was it?"

"Well ... yeah, it was, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen? And on my sister, no less?"

"What does it matter if it's handwritten?" I said, preferring not to answer the rest of the first question and ignore all of the second question.

"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic-approved," said Sian. "And also," she added, as Chris, Chrissie and I rolled our eyes, "because I'm starting to think that this Princess character was a bit dodgy."

Chris, Chrissie and I shouted her down at once.

"It was a laugh!" said Chrissie, up-ending a kitchen bottle over her sausages. "Just a laugh, Sian, that's all!"

"Dangling people upside-down by the ankle?" said Sian. "Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?"

"Tanya and Geri," said Chris, shrugging, "it's their kind of thing. And, er - "

"My mum," I said. I had only just remembered.

"What?" said Chris, Sian and Chrissie together.

"My mum used this spell," I said. "I - she told me."

This last part was not true; in fact, I had seen my mother use the spell on Triphorm, but I had never told Chris, Sian and Chrissie about that particular excursion into the Pensieve, until some time after the Great Battle of Dragon Mort. Anyhoo, a wonderful possibility then occurred to me. Could the Half-Blood Princess possibly be - ?

"Maybe your mum did use it, Kiara," said Sian, "but she's not the only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless."

I stared at her. With a sinking feeling I, too, remembered the behaviour of the Love Destroyers at the Quidditch Friendly. Chrissie came to my aid.

"That was different," she said robustly. "They were abusing it. Kiara and her mum were just having a laugh. You don't like the Princess, Sian," she added, pointing a sausage at her sternly, "because she's better than you at Potions - "

"It's got nothing to do with that!" said Sian, her cheeks reddening. "I just think it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Princess' as if it's her title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname and it doesn't seem as though she was a very nice person to me!"

"I don't see where you get that from," I said heatedly, "if she'd been a budding Love Destroyer, she wouldn't have been boasting about being 'Half-Blood', would she?"

Even as I said it, I remembered that my mother was a Muggle-born, but I pushed the thought out of my mind; I would worry about that later ...

"The Love Destroyers can't all be pure-blood, there aren't enough pure-blood wizards left," said Sian stubbornly. "I expect most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure. It's only Muggle-borns and Bright-brains they hate, they'd be quite happy to let you, Chris and Chrissie join up."

"There is no way they'd let me or Chris be Love Destroyers!" said Chrissie indignantly, a bit of sausage flying off the fork she was now brandishing at Sian and hitting Emily Mac on the back of the head. "You, me and Chris are all part of the same family, Sian, and not just that, but we're all blood traitors! That's as bad as Muggle-borns and Bright-brains to the Loves Destroyers!"

"And they'd love to have me," I said sarcastically. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in."

That made both Chris and Chrissie laugh; even Sian gave a grudging laugh, and then a distraction came when Chris pulled something out of his pocket.

"Oh, I just remembered, Kiara, that I'm supposed to give you this."

It was a scroll of parchment with mine and Sian's names written upon it in familiar thin, slanting writing.

"Thanks, Chris ... it's Crighton's next lesson!" I told Chris, Sian and Chrissie, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents. "Monday evening!" I felt suddenly light and happy. "Are you going to join us in Dragsmeade, Chris?" I asked.

"I'm going with Dena - might see you there," he replied, getting up and waving to us as he left.

As soon as he had left us, the light and happy feeling within me was suddenly extinguished, as though someone had quickly snuffed out a candle. I remember feeling - not empty, but hollow, somehow, like a part of me had left with him that I hadn't recognised until that moment. I supposed it was because it felt so natural that he was with Sian, Chrissie and I all the time, that I found it quite odd for Chris to be anywhere else but with us.

Match was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Dragsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Match was triple-checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor.

"What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?" demanded Chrissie, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. "Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?"

Her cheek earned her a few extra jabs with the Sensor, and she was still wincing as we stepped out into the wind and sleet.

The walk into Dragsmeade was not enjoyable. I wrapped my scarf over the lower part of my face; the exposed part soon felt both raw and numb. The road to the village was full of students bent double against the bitter wind. More than once I wondered whether we might not have had a better time in the warm common room, and when we finally reached Dragsmeade and saw that Whacko's Joke Shop had been boarded up, I took it as confirmation that this trip was not destined to be fun. Chrissie pointed with a thickly gloved hand towards the Sugarshack, which was mercifully open, and Sian and I staggered in her wake into the crowded shop.

"Thank God," shivered Chrissie, as we were enveloped by warm, toffee-scented air. "Let's stay here all afternoon."

"Kiara, m'dear," said a booming voice from behind us.

"Oh, no," I muttered. The three of us turned to see Professor Beadu, who was wearing an enormous furry hat and overcoat with matching fur collar, clutching a large bag of crystallised pineapple and was by far the tallest person there.

"Kiara, that's three of my little suppers you've missed now!" said Beadu, poking me genially in the chest. "It won't do, m'dear, I'm determined to have you! Miss Dawson loves them, don't you?"

"Yes," said Sian hopelessly, "they're really - "

"So, why don't you come along, Kiara?" demanded Beadu.

"Well, I've had Quidditch practice, Professor," I said, for I had indeed been scheduling practices every time Beadu had sent me a little violet-ribbon-adorned invitation. This strategy meant that Chrissie was not left out and we usually had a laugh imagining Sian shut up with MacGuire and Zamba.

"Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all this hard work!" said Beadu. "But a little recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practice in this weather ..."

"I can't, Professor, I've got - er - and appointment with Professor Crighton that evening, and so had Sian."

Beadu looked at Sian, surprised at this last piece of information. "And what can the Headmistress possibly want with you, Miss Dawson?"

Sian brought herself up to her full height and said proudly, "The Headmistress happens to be my mother, ma'am."

Beadu then looked at Sian as though she had just seen her for the first time, then exclaimed, so loudly that a couple of third-years jumped so violently that the gum they had been chewing spat out of each other's mouths and got stuck in their hair, "Merlin's beard, that's why you look so familiar to me! But why did you not tell me before?"

Sian giggled and said, "Well, I wanted to see how long it'd take you to work it out. And I must admit, ma'am, that it makes a nice change for me not to hear, 'Wow, the resemblance between you and your mother really is uncanny,' for once."

"Well, this is a surprise to me, but I suppose I'll get over it soon enough," said Beadu. Sian giggled again. Beadu then turned back to me and said, "I will get you to come to one of my suppers soon, Kiara! You can't avoid me for ever!"

And with a regal wave, she sauntered out of the shop, taking as little notice of Chrissie as though she had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

"I can't believe you've wriggled out of another one," said Sian, shaking her head. "They're not that bad, you know ... they're even quite fun sometimes ..." But then she caught sight of Chrissie's expression. "Oh, look - they've got Deluxe Sugar Quills - those would last hours!"

Glad that Sian had changed the subject, I showed much more interest in the new extra-large Sugar Quills than I would normally have done, but Chrissie continued to look moody and merely shrugged when Sian asked her where she wanted to go next.

"Let's go to the Flying Owls," I said. "It'll be warm."

We bundled our scarves back over our faces and left the sweet shop. The bitter wind was like knives on our faces after the sugary warmth of the Sugarshack. The street was not very busy; nobody was lingering to chat, just hurrying towards their destinations. The expectations were two women a little ahead of us, standing just outside the Flying Owls. One was very tall and thin; I recognised the landlady who worked in the other Dragsmeade pub, the Dragon's Eye. As Sian, Chrissie and I drew closer, the landlady drew her cloak more tightly around her neck and walked away, leaving the shorter woman to fumble with something in her arms. We were barely feet from her when I realised who the woman was.

"Mona!"

The squat, bandy-legged woman with long straggly ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releasing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

"Oh, 'ello, Kiara," said Mona Fetch, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya."

And she began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of her suitcase with every appearance of a woman eager to be gone.

"Are you selling this stuff?" I asked, watching Mona grabbing an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mona. "Gimme that!"

Chrissie had stooped down and picked up something silver.

"Hang on," said Chrissie slowly. "This looks familiar - "

"Thank you!" said Mona, snatching the goblet out of Chrissie's hand and stuffing it back into the case. "Well, I'll see you all - OUCH!"

I had pinned Mona against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding her throat with one hand, I pulled out my wand.

"Kiara!" said Sian warningly.

"You took that from Pumbaa's house," I said, almost nose-to-nose with Mona, and breathing in an unpleasant smell of tobacco and spirits. "That had the Warts family crest on it."

"I - no - what - ?" spluttered Mona, who was turning slowly purple.

"What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?" I snarled.

"I - no - "

"Give it to me!"

I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders behind me. "Kiara, let her go," said Sian, trying to pull me back, but I wasn't listening. "Kiara, this isn't going to solve anything. Now let her - "

There was a bang and I felt my hands fly off Mona's throat, as well as hearing a soft thud behind me; Sian had fallen over. Gasping and spluttering, Mona seized her fallen case, then - CRACK - she Disapparated.

As Chrissie bent to help Sian up, I spun around angrily, trying to determine where Mona had gone.

"COME BACK, YOU THIEVING - "

"There's no point, Kiara."

Todd had appeared out of nowhere, her mousy hair sleek with sleet.

"Mona will probably be in London by now. There's no point yelling."

"She nicked Pumbaa's stuff! Nicked it!"

"Yes, but still," saud Todd, who seemed perfectly untroubled by this piece of information, "you should get out of the cold."

She watched us through the door of the Flying Owls. The moment I was inside, I burst out, "She was nicking Pumbaa's stuff!"

"I know that, Kiara, and I know you're upset, but will you please stop shouting, you're starting to make a scene," Sian hissed. "Go and sit down. I'll get us drinks."

I was still fuming when Sian returned to our table a few minutes later holding three bottles of Butterbeer.

"Can't the Order control Mona?" I demanded of Sian and Chrissie in a furious whisper. "Can't they at least stop her stealing everything that's not fixed down when she's at Headquarters?"

"Shh!" said Sian desperately, looking around to make sure nobody was listening; there were a couple of warlocks sitting close by who were staring at me with great interest, and Samba was leaning against a pillar not far away. "Kiara, I'd be annoyed too, I know it's your things she's stealing - "

I gagged on my Butterbeer; I had momentarily forgotten that I owned Pumbaa's old house.

"Yeah, it's my stuff!" I said. "No wonder she wasn't pleased to see me! I'm going to write to my parents and tell them what's going on, as well as tell Crighton when I see her next, and hope that they'll do something about it."

"Good thinking," whispered Sian, clearly pleased that I was calming down. "Chrissie, what are you staring at?"

"Nothing," said Chrissie, hastily looking away from the bar, but I knew she was trying to catch the eye of the handsome landlord, Sir Smoothster, for whom she had long nursed a soft spot.

"I expect 'nothing''s in the back getting more Firewhisky," said Sian teasingly.

Chrissie ignored this jibe, sipping her drink in what she evidently considered to be a dignified silence. I was thinking about Pumbaa, and how he had hated those silver goblets anyway. Sian drummed her fingers on the table, eyeing her sister shrewdly, even as her lips twitched.

The moment I drained the last drops in my bottle she said, "Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?"

Chrissie and I nodded; it had not been a fun trip and the weather was getting worse the longer we stayed. Once again we drew our cloaks tightly around us, rearranged our scarves, pulled on our gloves, then followed Keith Ball and a friend out of the pub and back up the High Street. My thoughts then strayed to Chris as we trudged up the road to Dragon Mort through the frozen slush. We had not met up with him; undoubtedly, I thought, because he and Dena were cosily closeted in Mr Puddleston's teashop, the haunt of happy couples. Scowling, I bowed my head against the swirling sleet and trudged on.

It therefore came as a surprise to us when we heard a pair of heavy feet come up behind us. Turning around, we saw that it was Chris. Through my shock, I felt an equal measure of joy at just seeing him - I know I had seen him only a few short hours ago, but what made me happy most of all was that Dena was not with him.

"Hey, guys," he said, once he's finally caught up with Sian, Chrissie and I.

"Hey, Chris," said Sian, as surprised to see him as I was. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with Dena?"

"Well, I was, but she had to meet up with some friends to do some dress shopping here, and they don't need me for that," Chris said, shrugging. There was something in the way he said this that made me think he was not being entirely truthful with us, but I ignored the feeling, happy he was with us - me - again.

It was a little while after this that I became aware that the voices of Keith Ball and his friend, which were being carried back to me on the wind, had become shriller and louder. I squinted at their indistinct figures. The two boys were having an argument about something Keith was holding in his hand.

"It's nothing to do with you, Leon!" I heard Keith say.

We rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast. As I brushed some wet hair out of my face, Leon made to grab hold of the package Keith was holding; Keith tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Keith rose into the air, not as Chrissie had done, suspended comically by the ankle, but gracefully, his arms outstretched, as though he were about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerily ... his hair was whipped around him by the fierce wind, but his eyes were closed and his face was quite empty of expression. Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Leon and I had all halted in our tracks, watching.

Then, six feet above the ground, Keith let out a terrible scream. His eyes flew open but whatever he could see, or whatever he was feeling, was clearly causing him terrible anguish. He screamed and screamed; Leon rushed forwards and seized Keith's ankles, trying to tug him back to the ground. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I rushed forwards to help, but even as we grabbed Keith's legs, he fell on top of us; Chris, Chrissie and I managed to catch him but he was writhing so much we could hardly hold him. Instead we lowered him to the ground where he thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognise any of us.

I looked around; the landscape seemed deserted.

"Stay there!" I shouted at the others over the howling wind. "I'm going for help!"

I began to sprint towards the school; I had never seen anyone behave as Keith had just done and I could not think what had caused it; I hurtled round a bend in the lane and collided with what seemed to be an enormous bear on its hind legs.

"Mina!" I panted, disentangling myself from the hedgerow into what I had fallen.

"Kiara!" said Mina, who had sleet trapped in her eyebrows and hair, and was wearing her great, shaggy breaverskin coat. "Jus' bin visitin' Harlow, she's comin' on so well yeh wouldn' - "

"Mina, someone's hurt back there, or cursed, or something - "

"Wha'?" said Mina, bending lower to hear what I was saying over the raging wind.

"Someone's been cursed!" I bellowed.

"Cursed? Who's bin cursed - not Chris? Sian? Chrissie?"

"No, it's not them, it's Keith Ball - this way ..."

Together we ran back along the lane. It took us no time to find the little group of people around Keith, who was still writhing and screaming on the ground. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and Leon were all trying to quieten him.

"Get back!" shouted Mina. "Lemme see him!"

"Something's happened to him!" shouted Leon, panic evident in his voice. "I don't know what - "

Mina stared at Keith for a second, then, without a word, bent down, scooped him into her arms and ran off towards the castle with him. Within seconds, Keith's piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.

Sian hurried over to Keith's shocked friend and put an arm around him. He jumped and looked at her.

"It's Leon, isn't it?"

The boy nodded.

"Did it just happen all of a sudden, or - ?"

"It was when that package tore," Leon said shakily; pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Chrissie bent down, her hand outstretched, but I seized her arm and pulled her back.

"Don't touch it!"

I crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

"I've seen that before," I said, staring at the thing. "It was on display in Borrin and Burka ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Keith must have touched it." I looked up at Leon, who had started to shake uncontrollably. "How did Keith get hold of this?"

"Well, that's why we were arguing. He came back from the bathroom in the Flying Owls holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Dragon Mort and he had to deliver it. He looked all funny when he said it ... oh no, oh no, I bet he'd been Imperiused, and I didn't realise!"

Leon gulped quickly, shaking again. Sian patted his arm gently.

"He didn't say who'd given it to him, Leon?"

"No ... he wouldn't tell me ... and I said he was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but he just wouldn't listen and ... and then I tried to grab it from him and - and - " Leon shook his head, unwilling to go on.

"We'd better get up to school," said Sian, her arm still around Leon, "we'll be able to find out how he is. Come on ..."

I hesitated for a moment, then pulled my scarf from around my face and, ignoring Chris and Chrissie's gasps, I carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

"We'll need to show this to Matron," I said.

As we followed Sian and Leon up the road, I was thinking furiously. We had just entered the grounds when I spoke, unable to keep my thoughts to myself any longer.

"Malty knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borrin and Burka four years ago, I saw her having a good look at it while I was hiding from her, her mum and Keziah. This is what she was buying that day when we followed her! She remembered it and went back for it!"

"I - I dunno, Kiara," said Chrissie hesitantly. "Loads of people go to Borrin and Burka ... and didn't that boy say Keith got it in the boys' bathroom?"

"He said he came back from the bathroom with it, he didn't necessarily get it in the bathroom itself - "

"Darbus!" said Chris warningly.

I looked up. Sure enough, Professor Darbus was hurrying down the stone steps through the swirling sleet to meet us.

"Mina says you five saw what happened to Keith Ball - upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Pride-Lander?"

"It's the thing he touched," I said.

"Good Lord," said Professor Darbus, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from me. "No, no, Match, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Match came shuffling eagerly across the Entrance Hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Triphorm at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

Myself and the others followed Professor Darbus upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor Darbus closed the door and swept round her desk to face Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Leon and I.

"Well?" she said sharply. "What happened?"

Haltingly, and with many pauses while he attempted to control himself, Leon told Professor Darbus how Keith had gone into the bathroom in the Flying Owls and returned holding the unmarked package, how Keith had seemed a little odd and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leon shook his head, unable to continue.

"All right," said Professor Darbus, not unkindly, "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leon, and get Matron to give you something for shock."

When he had left the room, Professor Darbus turned back to Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I.

"What happened when Keith touched the necklace?"

"He rose up in the air," I said, before Chris, Sian or Chrissie could speak. "And began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Crighton, please?"

"The Headmistress is away until Monday, Pride-Lander," said Professor Darbus, looking surprised.

"Away?" I repeated angrily.

"Yes, Pride-Lander, away!" said Professor Darbus tartly. "But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I'm sure!"

For a split second, I hesitated. Professor Darbus did not invite confidences; Crighton, though in many ways more intimidating, still seemed less likely to scorn a theory, however wild. This was a life and death matter, though, and no moment to worry about being laughed at.

"I think Dani Malty gave Keith that necklace, Professor."

Chris, Sian and Chrissie all reacted differently; Chris scratched the back of his neck nervously, Sian started wringing her hands while looking straight at Professor Darbus, and Chrissie looked at her feet, shuffling them nervously.

"That is a very serious accusation, Pride-Lander," said Professor Darbus, after a shocked pause. "Do you have any proof?"

"No," I said, "but ..." and I told her about following Malty to Borrin and Burka and the conversation we had overheard between her and Borrin.

When I had finished speaking, Professor Darbus looked slightly confused.

"Malty took something to Borrin and Burka for repair?"

"No, Professor, she just wanted Borrin to tell her how to mend something, she didn't have it with her. But that's not the point, the thing is that she bought something at the same time and I think it was that necklace - "

"You saw Malty leaving the shop with a similar package?"

"No, Professor, she told Borrin to keep it in the shop for her - "

"But, Kiara," Sian interrupted, "Borrin asked her if she wanted to take it with her, and Malty said "no" - "

"Because she didn't want to touch it, obviously!" I said angrily.

"What she actually said was, "How would I look carrying that down the street?" " said Sian.

"Well, she would look a bit of a prat carrying a necklace," interjected Chrissie.

"Oh, Chrissie," said Sian despairingly, "it would all be wrapped up, so she wouldn't have to touch it, and quite easy to hide inside a cloak, so nobody would see it! I think whatever she reserved at Borrin and Burka was noisy or bulky; something she knew would draw attention to her if she carried it down the street - and - "

"Let's not forget here," said Chris quickly, "that I asked Borrin about the necklace, don't you remember? When I went in to try and find out what Malty had asked her to keep, I saw it there. And Borrin told me the price, she didn't say it was already sold or anything - "

"Well," I said, "you were being really obvious, she realised what you were up to in about five seconds, of course she wasn't going to tell you - anyway, Malty could've sent off for it since - "

"That's enough!" said Professor Darbus, as Sian opened her mouth to retort, looking furious. "Pride-Lander, I appreciate you telling me this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Miss Malty purely because she visited the shop where this necklace might have been purchased. The same is probably true of hundreds of people - "

" - that's what I said - " muttered Chrissie.

" - and in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place this year, I do not believe that necklace can possibly have entered this school without our knowledge - "

" - but - "

" - and what is more," said Professor Darbus, with an air of awful finality, "Miss Malty was not in Dragsmeade today."

I gaped at her, deflating.

"How do you know, Professor?"

"Because she was doing detention with me. She has now failed to complete her homework twice in a row. So, thank you for telling me your suspicions, Pride-Lander," she said as she marched past us, "but I need to go up to the hospital wing now yo check on Keith Ball. Good day to you all."

She held open her office door. We had no choice but to file past her without another word. I was angry with the other three for siding with Darbus; nevertheless, I felt compelled to join in once we started discussing what had happened.

"So, who do you reckon Keith was supposed to give the necklace to?" asked Chrissie, as we climbed the stairs to the common room.

"Goodness only knows," said Sian. "But whoever it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace."

"It could have been meant for loads of people," I said. "Crighton - the Love Destroyers would love to get rid of her, she must be one of their top targets. Or Beadu - Crighton reckons Zira really wanted her and they can't be pleased that she's sided with Crighton. Or - "

"Or you," said Chris, looking troubled.

"Couldn't have been," I said, "or Keith would've just turned round in the lane and given it to me, wouldn't he? I was behind him all of the way out of the Flying Owls. It would have made much more sense to deliver the parcel outside Dragon Mort, what with Match searching everyone who goes in and out. I wonder why Malty had told him to take it into the castle?"

"Kiara, Malty wasn't in Dragsmeade!" said Sian, actually stamping her foot in frustration.

"She must have used an accomplice, then," I said. "Crate or Gabber - or, come to think of it, another Love Destroyer, she'll have loads better cronies than Crate and Gabber now she's joined up - "

Chris, Sian and Chrissie exchanged looks that plainly said "there's no point arguing with her".

"Dilligrout," said Sian firmly, as we reached the Fat Lord.

The portrait swung open to admit us into the common room. It was quite full and smelled of damp clothing; many people seemed to have returned from Dragsmeade early because of the bad weather. There was no buzz of fear or speculation, however: clearly, the news of Keith's fate had not yet spread.

"It wasn't a very slick attack, really, when you stop and think about it," said Chrissie, casually turfing a first-year out of one of the good armchairs by the fire, so that she could sit down. "The curse didn't even make it into the castle. Not what you'd call foolproof."

"You're right," said Sian, prodding Chrissie out of the chair with her foot and offering it to the first-year again. "It wasn't very well-thought-out at all."

"But since when has Malty been one of the world's greatest thinkers?" I asked.

Neither Chris nor Sian nor Chrissie answered me.

AN: Sorry about the quotation marks. My laptop went funny - it's fine, but the only way to fix it would have been to turn it on and off again, which I could not be bothered to do. See you next week.