Prologue

The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it.
-W.M. Lewis


“Number three, please step forward.�

Silence. No one moves, no one breathes.

“Number three, please step forward now.�

Number three doesn’t move. All eyes go directly toward her. Directly toward me.

I’m number three. That’s my name. Or at least that’s what I’ve always been told.

It’s all I know.

But even I know – the deprived, unwanted, wretch who was abandoned – I know that’s wrong.

I’m a number, not a person.

I was left on the Holmer-Traitmann Home for Destitute Children, an orphanage, days after I was born. Been there ever since. It’s a pretty dumpy place, but for me, it’s home. I have nowhere else to go. I was left on the doorstep.

Literally, I was just dropped off. It makes you wonder and dream. Dream for someone, anyone to actually care about you. Countless children have lived all their life at the Holmer-Traitmann home. And countless children have died there. Died there alone.

They both lived and died in a world where no one cared for them. My world.

I have no family. At this place, you’re told that no one wants you, brainwashed into believing that we’re just not the lucky ones. Sorry. Once you’re here, you aren’t going anywhere. You can’t get out, can’t get away, can’t escape. A wave of vomit rises in my throat - I want to puke, I want to die - fractured images race through my fevered mind - my last try for escape - pain in my lungs and stomach, burning, I hadn’t been able to go on any longer - and when they dragged me back, even more severe, intense pain - punishment - for my own good, they say - I don't know if I can face it. One tear rolls down my cheeks and I prepare myself.

“Number three, step forward. Now.� I reluctantly step out of line. Separated. I’m apart, different. No one wants me.

I’ve been through this so many times. I know exactly what she’s going to say, she’ll act all sorry for me, overwhelming sympathy that couldn’t be any more forged and forced. I don’t want her pitiful smile, I don’t want anyone’s pity. No pity for me.

I refuse to accept it. I’ve gotten enough of it. I’m not worth it. Go cry over all the starving children in Africa if you want to. But not me. There’s no meaning for it. My existence is one that even, I, myself, can hardly understand.

“Now, please-�

I bolt toward the woman talking, and smack her across the face, causing a piercing scream to break the silence. Racing out the door, I grab up my stuff, and head for the towering gate surrounding the facility, my fifth tried escape in two weeks. I race past the beasts they hold here - at an orphanage - tears racing faster than my feet. I will get away. I will escape. I will escape this time. That’s why I was in that scary room, being given my punishment for all the rule-breaking. But I don’t care about punishment.

I just want to escape this hell.

In a run, I jump onto the gate. I leap over it, landing all too softly on my feet, and start to sprint down the busy streets of Boston. I desperately push people aside, trying to run as fast as I can. I don’t know where I’m going. I’m just trying to get somewhere.

“Excuse me! Hey-� Ignoring the irritated voices, I simply keep running, not even caring to hide the tears still flying off my face. My dark brown hair’s getting stuck in my mouth, but I disregard it.

“Excuse me! Miss, can you hear me?� What? Sorry, I’m not stop-

My wrist is snatched, and I jerk backwards. What the heck? My eyes burn, and I blink away tears. Never show weakness.

“Hel-lo! I mean, really, not responding like that…� I look directly into the face of a weird guy, not too much older than me, (I couldn’t tell you a number though, I don’t know exactly how old I am. There’s no celebrating of birthdays at the Home.) but his face is all strained with worry lines, and his long choppy hair doesn’t help the look any more. But what stands out the most, is the fact that both his hair and his eyes are a deep blue, causing looking at them to be like staring into a vast ocean. My face flushes.

“Who are you? Let go of me -� I try to shake his hand off my wrist, but his boney arms stay put, not giving at all. Rats.

“A better question would be, ‘Who are you?’� He leans his face forward, until his nose is practically touching mine. Garlicky breath floats up near my nose, and I feel like gagging.

“I-I’m…Ettie.� Lie. That was a total lie. I have no name. Well, besides Number Three, but I can’t say that. “I’m Ettie Wheaton. Now, tell me who you are, or I’ll hurt you.� I try to squint my eyes threateningly. I’m sure it’s failing. Still, I’m sure he won’t care when my fist is through his teeth.

He smiles – for absolutely no reason at all. It’s…a heart-warming smile. “I’m Jasper. The pleasure’s mine.�

I flinch at his approaching bad breath. He sees it.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I sell garlic. I go overboard sometimes, and eat it though, when the times get rough up here Real sorry.�

Garlic? Who sells garlic? But I don’t ask. There’s something strange about this fellow, besides his oddly colored hair. “What do you want?�

Jasper takes a step back, thankfully leaving me more breathing space, but then spins to the store behind him. I breathe more easily – I just wish he’d go, but if I try to run off, he’ll notice. I bet. It’s just my luck.

“Nell! Nelly, sissy, get out here!� I’m about to say something when a young girl walks out the door toward us.

“What?� She demands, and her eyes narrow when she sees me.“What?�

Jasper looks toward me and smiles, then turns back toward his sister, a frown returning. “Nell. Be polite to our customer. This here is Ettie Wheaton. She wants to buy some garlic.�

I gasp, “Ha – But – no, I don’t -_�

The girl, who couldn’t possibly be any older than twelve, faces me. “Garlic, eh?�

No, I don’t want any of your garlic. I’m not a lunatic. “Yes, please.� Darn it. I couldn’t say no to such a…frightening face. Note to self: KILL sentiments and fear. And also find some food, and a nice gutter to spend the night in.

“I see. Come here.� She skips back into the store, all too innocently, beckoning for me to follow. I comply, warily. They seem too….strange.

The store is small and cramped, even though there are only several people inside. It smells deeply like a mixture of strong perfume and more garlic. More garlic. It’s everywhere. I’m lead to a back room, where there are boxes and boxes of nothing other than…Garlic. These people are very dedicated to their vegetables.

“So…um…I don’t mean to be rude, but…why do you have so much garlic?� I dare to ask the question. Her hard eyes turn to me, and I wish I hadn’t asked. Too late.

“To ward off the vampi-…rats. Rats. It wards off the rats.� Right. Rats. Because Rat Poison isn’t enough?

“I see.� But I know the legend. “It keeps away the vampires. Whoops. I mean rats.�

She stares at me blankly, but I can tell that behind that careful façade, her mind is spinning beyond control – I got her.

“Yeah, okay. You caught us. What are you planning to do about it?� What am I going to do? Nothing. In fact, now would probably be a good time to leave, because I’m supposed to be escaping, not chatting about something…I’ve always believed in vampires. I’ve read enough stories about them, and I just…don’t doubt their existence. I know they’ll get me one day, if I’m stupid enough to fall into their clutches. Plus, I’m sure that man I saw four years ago was something other than human….

I kindly thank Nelly, called Nell, and run out the door, running straight into Jasper. Nicely done, of course I get caught. Nothing ever works for me. The only good part in my life was escaping from The Home.

“Oh-I - I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to-� He reaches his arm, and appears to contemplate running it over my hair, you know, to mess it up, that thing boys do, but he soon flushes, and pulls it away. I blush. This guy’s weird, but I like him. Sort of.

“It’s okay, it was as much my fault. Miss, did you want to buy any garlic?� I’m running in place now in anticipation. I-need-to-go-now! I’m hyperventilating. If I don’t get going, I’ll explode in place.

“NothanksI’vegottogo,thanksfortalking-bye.� I immediately run off, as I hear him yell for me to wait. I don’t wait though. I need to escape. And soon. They’ll be coming for me, and my feet know it.

Taking off again, I sprint further along the street, deciding to not stop for anyone that calls for me. I can’t afford to be bound by emotions – that’s for weak people.

And then I think more deeply about it.

Where exactly am I going? I’m in Boston. Where am I supposed to be going? Boston is huge.

And then it hits me.

I’m not supposed to be escaping by myself.

I need to be helping.

That’s what good people do. I want to try to be a good person.

I’m done tormenting myself now, so I can simply run without thinking about much, just to stare as my feet below my track the dirt. I’ve always loved to run, to feel myself glide over the ground, kind of like flying. I barely ever run out of breath, and I move so fast, it’s crazy. I feel like a bird – running is the only time I feel free- especially just now, because, for the first time ever, I am.

I don’t think other people can run this fast.

I don’t know why.

I feel so different than other people. I can do many things they can’t do. Maybe there are more like me? I don’t know, I’ve never met many people before. Only the monsters at the Orphanage, and now, the two garlic-selling weirdoes.

Instantaneously, I stop. What I’m doing isn’t right. I’m nearly free, but I’m not. I can never be free, knowing that there are more people, stuck without anything, people who are yet as weird as me.

Turn around.

I hear, no, feel the voice. Looking around, no one else seems to have heard it.

Ettie. Turn around!

It’s talking to me…in my head. It must just be my conscience.

For heaven’s sake, you idiot, turn around! I’m standing right here behind you, don’t you see me! Right here, hel-lo!

I turn around, completely clueless. What the heck?
Behind me is a little girl, maybe 7 years old, with dark skin and dark hair, but dull gray eyes. She’s staring at the ground, then looks up to the sky, unfocused. Her eyes never meet mine.

“It worked.� It’s not the voice of a little girl. It’s coming from her, but…it sounds so scarred, like it’s from a person who’s been through way too much for their age. Traumatized. Scared. Experienced and old and wise. I vow to be wary.

“It worked? What’s it?�

“Nothing.�

I stare at her. A voice in my head wasn’t nothing.

“Nothing?�

“Nothing.�

“Nothing?�

“NO, IT’S NOT NOTHING! Okay? I’m a legilimens. A le-gil-i-mens."

“A legidi-what?�

She looks at me weirdly. Did my dress rip or something? I’m not…showing…anything, am I? I feel so exposed now – especially around this scary little girl.

“Legilimens. I can talk to people through their minds, by putting a voice there. I can see your memories, I can see what you’re thinking.�

I want to know more about it, but first, why is she telling me? I mean, who is she, anyway? My curiosity, never far from the surface, rears, and I need more information. Somehow, this…just feels….right. Familiar. At the top of my head, but I can’t reach it. Something’s blocking it.

I sigh. This is not going over well.

“Who are you?�

“I’m Ethel. I work here, at the farmer’s market.� I look up to see another large building, with a huge sign reading, ‘Farmers Market: Picked Daily’. I hadn’t even been paying attention to where I was. There were people all around us, evaluating the fruits and vegetables, and we were out on the sidewalk, very near the road.

“I’m Ettie.� Caught up in the lie, I continue without pause. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. But now, really, why would you tell me about your…ability? I mean, I’m nobody important.�
“Yes, you are.� What? “I’ve been studying you for a while.� I’ve been…stalked? “And clearly, you aren’t a normal person.� Wow. Tough love. I truly feel special. But…she’s right. I wait for more.

She pauses. “You’re a witch.�

“I’m a what?� Oh, no, I can’t be a witch, it’s not…possible.

“You know what I said. But have you ever done things, things you just…can’t explain?� I have, actually. I leapt, nearly flying, over the gate. And then I could run very fast, and I remember doing other things…that just…weren’t explainable, and I’d get punished severely for them, even though I hadn’t even known what I had done wrong! I always just though that I was weird, maybe some sort of stranger from somewhere else. , Not a witch. That’s ridiculous. But then again, some people think vampires are ridiculous.

“You are a witch, you know you are.�

I guess I am.

Suddenly, as I’m relishing my moment of innovation, four people run up to us. They’re wearing long, black cloaks, with a green emblem on them, reading, ‘Emerald Moriturus’. The guy in the front looks to be not much older than me, with what I can tell, because the hood of the cloak is surrounding his face. The man behind him looks to be the same age as the front one, and the two guys in the back look to be in their early 40’s.

The front guy throws off his cloak, and the other young guy catches it, and holds onto it.

Whoa.

Front Guy is beautiful. Seriously. I think he’s sparkling. Oh my…

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,� Everyone looks at him, some look terrified, but others act as if this is completely normal, “Do you happen to know of a young girl, maybe 15-years-of age, dark brown hair, brown eyes…� He catches sight of me, and violently tears his way over.

“YOU! You’re the one I’ve been looking for, for the past 15 years, since I heard of your birth.�

What? I try not to be afraid, but his eyes aren’t human, they’re nearly red, more of gold actually, and their gaze is right on mine.

I break the eye contact, and look at the ground, hoping he can’t see my blush.

“You can’t possibly mean…me…right? Do I know you?�
I’m such a girl.

“You are coming with me.� What? I’m not going anywhere with anyone. Sorry. No can do.

“Uh, no, I’m not.�

He mocks me. “Uh, yes, you are.�

“Uh, no.�

“Uh, yes.�

Jerk. “No-I’m-NOT!� With my last word, I jump up, and my foot meets his face. I’m sad to kick such a pretty face, but imbecile person like him puts me at stake. A person like him deserves it. Never mess with a threatened witch.

“Gah!� I hear his scream, but know he’ll hit me back. I dodge his open hand that comes flying toward my skull, and jump backwards into a horse stance, my fists ready to make contact. He has blood running down from his nose; I gave him a nosebleed, and he still has a big imprint of my shoe on his face. He looks irritated. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning….

I’m ready for anything, you imbecile. I’m ticked.

He leaps toward me, and I drop on my hip and slide under his approaching legs. Turning swiftly around, he tries again. I don’t dodge this time, but slide my leg in front of his leg, causing him to flip over painfully.

“YOU!� He screams furiously, “I will KILL you!�

Don’t let him get to you. Ethel? Emory’s not as strong as he thinks he is. Emory? That’s his name? Am I supposed to use him to file my nails?

Suddenly, Emory snakes in and hits me with a short left hook to the head and goes in deep to my stomach with his right. The air is smacked out of my lungs with a large, dry sound, as Emory dances back. Oh…

You were doing so good! What happened? What happened?! This... idiot was asking for it!

I cower over in intense pain, but I know I have to beat him. I’m not losing to…this guy. Rage fuels me, and lights pop behind my eyes. I know that it’s not from pain, though.

He comes at me a final time, teeth bared. I freeze. I try to move, but I’m stuck fast. I look up at him, eyes big, with tears running down my face. I’ve got a plan, and he’s not in on it.

I’m a girl. He’s a boy. This’ll work.

He gets closer, fist ready…and stops, right in front of me.
I fake fear, and stutter, “A-are you g-going to h-hit m-me?�

His eyes grow in shock. I’ve got him here.

“P-please.�

Emory takes a step backward, probably regretting hitting a girl, me.

I’ve won.

Leaping forward, my foot makes contact with his stomach. It sinks in deeply, then I push off him, landing smoothly on both feet.

Ouch. Poor boy.

He falls over, and with an angry, pitiful moan, admits defeat.

I lean over him, my eyes meet his. He must be expecting an apology, or something, and looks shocked.

I’m not apologizing.

“Loser.� I state, “Messing with a girl.� I smirk then spit smugly on his face, and he flinches.

“I’m Ettie. Remember me well.� And with that, I turn around, ignoring the three terrified other members of Emory’s team, who are so shocked, they nearly forget to run over to help their leader.

Ethel runs over to me, giving me a big hug. It makes me feel…strangely sad.

“Wow!� She yells, “You were amazing!�

I suddenly notice how interesting the ground is.

“Are you proud? If I were you, I would be SO proud! I’d be, like, dancing!�

“Ethel!� I scream, pushing her away. She looks surprised, and falls to the ground.

Darn it.

“I-I’m so sorry, Ethel. I’m just…� I reach over, and reach out my hand to help her up.

She doesn’t grab it.

“Um…Ethel? Do you want help up?�

“What?�

“You can grab my hand. I’ll help you up.�

“Hand?� Her arm waves around, searching for something in front of her.

Oh.

How had I not noticed sooner?

Ethel is blind.

“Ethel…are you…blind?�

She flushes. “Yeah.�

“Ah.�

We sit there in silence for a minute, before she finds my hand, and I pull her up.

“Thank you, Ettie.�

“It was my fault.�

“No, you were just upset. I can understand.�

“The question is now,� And she gets closer, eyes glazed over, “What do I do now?�

She snickers, happy again. “You save the world, silly!�

“Rise and shine!� Wha-?... “Get up sleepy-head!� What, no, I don’t want to get up yet….ugh….

I open one eye and squint into the light. Ethel’s face is directly in front of mine.

“Ah!� Screaming, I roll over, fall off the bed and jump up from the floor.
“Well, you’re up now,� Ethel laughs, “Good morning!�

“What? Where are we! How did we get here; I don’t remember… but we were just-�

I glance around, we look to be in some sort of room…with a big bed…a big room. It’s decorated exceedingly well, with only the nicest of furniture and cloth, and polished magnolia wood in all the tables…I’ve never seen anything so nice before. Ever. It’s almost like what I would expect the White House to look like.

“This is my house.� Ethel looks around, apparently adjusted to her surroundings.

“This is your house? Is it really?� Who knew?

“Yep. This is certainly my house, I’ve lived here for as long as I can remember. My Ma’s from France, and she’s very rich, and my Pa’s from Egypt, he’s also very rich. But they moved to America, and then had me. I have no siblings.�

“That’s nice. I don’t have any siblings either, I guess.�

“You guess?�

“I’m not really sure who my parents are. All I know is the Home.�

“Oh. I’m sorry.�

“It’s okay.� It’s really not okay. But I would never tell that to such a little girl like her. I’m thankful that she is always seemingly capable of staying happy – it’s something I’ll never be able to achieve. It’s almost unnatural.

“Would you like any tea, or anything to eat?�

I drop down into a large, cushioned chair. I feel myself sink down, and note that these pillows are probably extremely expensive. Wow. I’ve only ever sat on hard wooden chairs. A girl could get used to this.

“I’d like some tea, I suppose.�

“RINA! Rina! Come here!� What?! Did I do something? Oh no…

The door creaks open, and in runs a girl, probably my age, wearing a gray dress and a frilly white apron.

“Yes, Miss? Do you need something, Miss?�

“Yes, Rina, could you get my friend and I some tea?�

“Yes Miss, I’ll come back in a moment.� The girl, Rina, the maid, runs back out the door to get us tea.

“Ethel, I could’ve gotten the tea for us.�

“Oh, it’s okay, we’ve got a couple dozen servants here, don’t worry.� Talk about wealthy people – I bet that Ethel’s never had to clean a toilet, sleep on the floor, or cook what always seems to turn out to be cardboard….. I shake my head. Ethel’s more fortunate than me in life, so what. I’m free.

“Er, Ethel, would you mind telling me more about yourself? And myself too, I’m still quite confused to what’s going on.�

“Okay, I’ll start from the beginning. I’m Ethel Belington. I’m eight years old, and am very rich. I live here, in a big house. My parents are wizards.�

“Wait, wait. So, you’re a witch?�

Ethel’s blind eyes stare off into the distance, looking at nothing. They look no different, yet look…sadder.

“Yes.�

“You’re……a witch?"

“I’m a witch. I’m not really powerful, though. I can do Legilimency, though. I…I can’t really cast any spells, though. When I try…. It’s not that great.�

“Oh. I’m…I’m sorry. But…. It still is amazing.�

“Rina is a witch though. She likes to try to teach me things, even though they never work. She goes to Hogwarts.�
“Hogwarts?�

“Yep. It’s a school for witches and wizards in Scotland.�

“Isn’t that a little…far away?�

“Yes.�

“Isn’t there an American school?�

“No. And I’m too young to go to Hogwarts, anyway. You’re only accepted when you turn eleven. Then you get a letter. Maybe I will, when I turn eleven. I doubt it, though.� She frowns.

“Um…sorry.� I shift uncomfortably in the beautiful, extremely comfortable and expensively luxurious chair I’m sitting in.

“Okay.�

Things are getting…awkward.

I need to leave…I shouldn’t stay in one place too long- it’ll make it easier for the beasts at the Home to come get me. While I’m at it, perhaps I can find where those thugs came out of yesterday – if I can find out what they want with me….

“I um…thanks for having me, but I kind of…need to leave.�

“To go defeat the Emerald Moriturus?�

It’d probably be a good idea to learn more about those guys before I leave, that is true. They just sort of…came onto me yesterday. Who knows? They are the enemy too.

I don’t even know why. I need to be ready.“Sorry if I’m irritating you, but would you tell me more about them?�

“The Emerald Moriturus? No.�

“Oh, sorr-�

“I can show you though.�

“Okay…�

Ethel leaps up, and runs over to a bookshelf. Off it, she grabs what appears to be a giant dictionary, after rummaging for a moment over the large selection of books. I frown. If she’s blind, why does she have so many things to read? Unless Rina reads them to her…..

“This is my father’s. He found it during an excavation in Egypt when he was seventeen. It’s a magical tome.�

“What does it do?� By this time, I was so confused, I probably wouldn’t even be able to remember my own name. I smile in my head. Oh, that’s right. I don’t have one. Just a number.

“It can bring you to the past, like this.� Ethel opens the book to a page near the middle, and goes to stand behind me. She pushes me toward the book, and I gasp. What is she doing? How does she know what page to go to?

Suddenly I feel something pulling me toward the book, and I try to resist it, when I hear Ethel in my head.

Don’t resist it. Just go.

I’m flying through the air, my head spinning, when I’m thrown back down onto the ground. Looking around, I have no idea where I am. I’m in a long hallway, with lots of people in it. They’re all around my age, some a couple years younger, some older. I’m panicking – I’m not supposed to be here – I don’t belong here.

But Ethel saved my life, and I should trust her.

That would be easier if I were more normal – not from the Home, and I didn’t have to worry about my life and safety at every moment – even from a blind, fragile eight year old.

“Hello? Excuse me, can you hear me?� I try to get the attention of some of the people, but none of them see me. Weird. It’s like…. It’s like I’m not here.

I try to look at what’s written on their robes. ‘Slytherin’. What is Slytherin? A group? A team? A book club?

Despite the fact that they can’t see or hear me, I can see and hear them. I try to see if I can recognize anyone.

At first, I see no one I know, but then one certain face stops my gaze. It’s that imbecile, Emory. But he looks younger here, maybe a couple years older than Ethel, ten or eleven. He’s kind of cute.

In a little boy way. Not at ALL in a ‘handsome’ way. He looks like a little boy, and that’s that.

I try to listen to what’s being said. All I can make out is individual comments.

“I hate this school, Hogwarts is such a dump.� Hogwarts. That’s what Ethel was talking about. That school.

“All the Muggle-born scum.� Muggles? What is a Muggle?

“Slytherin is the finest house. Hufflepuff….Gryffindor…they’re not worthy of being here. Ravenclaw is decent enough – the only horrid part is they accept the Mudbloods and the Halfbood scum.� Houses. Like, divisions in a school. Even I know that – at least we were educated at The Home. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw…those must be the other houses. There are four? Why don’t they have ordinary names? Like one, two, three and four – I shake my head. That’s the Home coming back at me. Everything there is numbered : the rooms, the furniture, the classes, the employees, the children…

And then I hear Emory. “Shut up! Show some respect, you acromantulas!� A silence filled the air, so quiet that you could feel it. Even I wasn’t expecting him to say that. He seems to be the…leader.

Then I see another guy I recognize. It’s the other young guy in the Emerald Moriturus, the one who held Emory’s cape while he got his behind kicked…Idiot. Don’t let him boss you around!

He spoke with a thick British accent, “Calm yourself, Emory. They were simply expressing what they felt.�

Emory looks over at him. After a pause for thinking, he speaks, “Sorry, Bao-Zhi.� Looking quickly at the other guys, he continues, “Not to you pansies, though. It’s you who should be sorry.� He adds in an undertone, “When I rule… you will be-�Unexpectedly, everything fades out into white, and I’m at a different place. Again, I see Emory and Bao-Zhi, but this time they look to be a bit older. They’re sitting alone at a table, in a dark room decorated with a lot of silver, black, and emerald green….. the same colors on their robes… and on their ties, and bags, and… everything…. It must be the house colors.

Bao-Zhi was writing something with a quill, his hand shaking slightly. He appeared nervous, but hid his face from Emory, who was staring at the document.

“Bao. What are you doing?� They look to be about thirteen-to-fourteen-years-old. Strong, powerful, rich kids, but Bao doesn’t pull that off well. His real self shines through the façade: timid, scared, and nervous. Emory is looking great, though. A commanding force that’s not to be messed with…. Full of himself, much?

“I-I’m working…sorry.� There’s no one else around, but just as I think that, a man barges through a large portrait on the wall.

“You two!� he yells, and runs over. “What are you up to?�

Even Emory flinches at the sight of the man. I make a mental note: Make friends with him. He’s tall, with long, shining black hair that flows past his waist. He has dark, squinty eyes that always seemed to be focused on something directly behind you.

“Professor Tresemme. How nice to see you. We were just working on your essay, truly fascinating stuff.� An essay? That paper doesn’t seem like it. It’s covered in signatures, not paragraphs about some ‘truly fascinating’ topic. Emory is such a liar.

But the professor’s not fooled. Walking over to the paper, he tries to get a look at it.

“Professor, we can’t show you yet! You’ll have to wait. Work in progress, you see.�

“Boys, just show it to me. I’d like to see it.�

“Sorry, no.� Professor Tresemme leaps forward toward Emory, but Emory gestures across the room, and a wand zooms into his hand – a different one from the one I saw him prodding the signatures with. Bao Zhi closes his eyes and turns away.

“Avada Kedavra!� With a flash of green light, the Professor falls to the floor, rather spectacularly. Is he…dead? I know he is – he’s not knocked out…. He has the same look as those poor children the Home got tired of – still. Just still. Dead.

“We’ve got to get out of here.� I hear Emory whisper something else to Bao Zhi, before they snatch up the parchment and run toward the wall, and soon disappear through it.. Soon enough though, I feel something grab hold of me, and I fly through brightness, landing eventually on my back.

“Ow!� I groan, and try to pick myself up, seeing a figure run toward me. I think it’s Ethel, but I’m too shocked and pained to see past my blurry eyes. I just saw a man die.

And it was Emory who killed him.

Well, this puts things into perspective, now doesn’t it?