“Patrick…Patrick, wake up!” William was sitting up, his hand on Patrick’s shoulder attempting to shake him awake. It was apparent from the bags under his eyes that he had, also, just managed to force his eyes open to finally wake up. “Come on, we’re going to miss breakfast.”
Patrick rubbed sorely at his eyes while stumbling behind William to their room. They quickly tossed on their dress robes and scampered off to the Dining Hall. It wasn’t long before they found a seat next to Elizabeth and Henri and grabbed what was left on the breakfast platters. Henri was tearing through a large plate of sausage, while Elizabeth sat contently with a single muffin. She was obviously still full from the previous night’s feast.
“We tried to wake you two up,” she began, “but you guys wouldn’t budge.”
“’N I couldn’t miff breakfuss…” Henri mumbled, through a mouthful of meat. Judging by his inability to move the night before, Patrick was amazed to see Henri scarfing down as much food as he was. William was already chewing through a stack of pancakes when the familiar screeches of hundreds of owls echoed off the walls. A tiny Scops Owl, glided down the Allard table stopping right next to Patrick’s goblet of pumpkin juice. The small bird lifted its leg and Patrick withdrew two scrolls from inside the bird’s pouch, one addressed to Patrick the other to William. Patrick handed William his scroll and unraveled his own.
You will meet me at the Quidditch field for your detention tonight, at 7’o clock.
-Professor Dominick Sumpton
Patrick was once again reminded of the fact he had earned himself a detention after reading the note. He looked up at Henri and Elizabeth, who was feeding crumbs of her muffin to the little owl, before tucking the scroll safely inside his robes. He turned his head to William who, after reading his own note, did the same.
“Who was that from?” Elizabeth asked, lifting the bird up and down on her index finger.
“Um…meeting with Professor Snerkin,” Patrick said, hastily. “You know, Quidditch stuff.”
“Right,” agreed William.
“Sure,” Elizabeth said, doubtfully. “Come on, we’ve got Magic History.”
Elizabeth got up followed by Henri, who wedged himself from between his seat and the table, full but able to stand. Patrick and William rose from their seats as well, dropping back behind Elizabeth and Henri while they walked out of the hall.
“Quidditch field at seven with Professor Sumpton?” Patrick asked.
“No, greenhouses at seven, with Professor Marigold.” William replied.
“What?!” roared Patrick. Elizabeth nudged her head back at the two of them, finally realizing just how far ahead she was walking in front of the pair. William smiled weakly at her.
“You heard me,” William whispered, through clenched teeth, “I’m with Professor Marigold. Sumpton must have split us up. He’s taking this punishment thing a bit too seriously.”
“Yeah, well it wouldn’t be much of a punishment if you were hanging out with your friends now would it?” Patrick added, his mouth barely moving as well.
Elizabeth stopped suddenly and turned around on the spot.
“Are you two going to join us or are you going to walk behind us whispering the whole way to class?” she asked apparently fed up of all the mutterings going on behind her.
“We’re preparing Quidditch strategies, unless you’d like to help us.”
Elizabeth stuttered for a moment.
“Do you think a Sloth Grip Roll is the best way to dodge a Dopplebeater Defense?” William questioned, looking at Elizabeth for her response.
“W-Well, the Donklebeater move i-is very tricky…I wouldn’t know what the best way is….” She trailed off looking embarrassed.
“Oh well. Hopefully, Patrick and I can figure it out,” William finished smugly.
Patrick took the paper back out of his robes and stared at it again. He sighed and continued walking toward the Allard and Garrison Hall buildings.
Professor Mott’s class could not have gone by faster. The last thing Patrick was looking forward to was a detention with Professor Sumpton, and Magic History was hardly a speed bump between now and seven o’clock. Patrick was listening intently, hoping that focusing on Professor Mott drone on about early Wizarding governors would slow things down. The muffled sound of Professor Mott’s voice, as she blocked her face with the large book she was reading, aside, Patrick actually found the lesson interesting. He caught himself thinking about the foolish wizards that attempted to use magic openly during the early stages of Wizarding government. He pondered how the first wizard governor of Massachusetts, could actually wish that those wizards be sentenced just like the Muggles wrongly mistaken for witches. It was a horrific scenario, but fascinating one nonetheless.
In Herbology, Professor Marigold had obviously been informed of her and William’s detention session and tried to lighten William’s load for today’s class, on Gribbleseeds. The class waited for her to speak, while resting their hands on the tiny pot she had placed out for each of them.
“Be very careful, Gribbleseeds do not care to stay still for very long. You will have to hold them very tightly.”
She took a vial containing a small, pale white seed that was bouncing around, and handed it to each student, except for William.
“You can share with Patrick.” She lowered her voice, “I’ve got something more exciting in store for later.” She gave a giddy smile and continued handing out vials.
“At least she’s pretty,” William confessed. “Maybe it won’t be too bad. It definitely won’t be as bad as you and Sumpton.”
“Thanks for cheering me up,” Patrick said holding the vial.
“Now,” Professor Marigold said after handing out the last vial. “You’ll need to bury them quickly or they’ll burrow back out. Once you’ve dug a hole in your pot, hold the vial upside down, drop it in and bury the seed at once.”
William sat back and watched Patrick drop the seed into his pot and hurl handfuls of soil over it.
“I wonder what could be more fun than this,” Patrick smirked.
“Anything,” said Elizabeth, who had put her gloves on as not to get her hands covered in soil.
For the most part everyone seemed to have managed their task fairly well. Professor Pennipot did have to assist one of the Rylans, Jason MacDuffie, whose Gribbleseed bounced into his partner Mitchell Davis’ pot and was fighting for control of the container.
Dinner passed, and even sooner than he realized, it was seven o’clock and he was departing from William to go meet Professor Sumpton for his detention. He debated whether or not he should walk slowly to prolong the wait or walk fast to get it over with. Deciding on a medium pace, Patrick ambled along the cobbled path, pushing his way through the curtains of the changing room past the locker which his borrowed Cleansweep was kept, and emerging on the inside of the grassy Quidditch field. To Patrick’s surprise, Professor Sumpton was not the only one waiting for him to arrive. Professor Pennipot, her red hair resting on her shoulders, was chatting casually with Professor Sumpton as Patrick made his way over to them. He was a little worried. Was his trespassing so severe that he needed two teachers present to be punished? Was William also serving a detention with more than just Professor Marigold? Clenching his hands tightly behind his back, Patrick strode cautiously over to the pair of teachers, his legs quivering with each step.
“Ah, Patrick…glad you are here on time,” Professor Sumpton welcomed, flashing the same comforting smile he gave when they first met. “Unfortunately, I will not be able to administer your detention this evening; urgent call to the Republic. However, Professor Pennipot has graciously agreed to step in on my behalf. I hope you do not mind spending the evening with her instead.”
A wave of relief flushed over him stopping Patrick’s knees from knocking heavily against each other. Professor Pennipot was one of his favorite teachers, not to mention the person who gave Patrick the nudge to try out for the Quidditch team. Professor Pennipot stepped closer to Patrick as Professor Sumpton departed through the curtains.
“Well, I suppose we can get a move on now.”
“What…what exactly are we going to be doing?” Patrick asked.
“Don’t worry it’s nothing big. Wouldn’t want to endanger one of my best flyers,” she said, leaning closer and winking. “We’re just going to re-mend some of the school’s old brooms. As you’ve probably seen, everyone isn’t as adept at flying as you and Mr. Quinn are and those brooms aren’t quite up to the shape they used to.” Patrick’s mind quickly flickered to Henri, imagining his hair littered with twigs from another poor test flight.
They walked to a room not far from the entrance to the lockers. Professor Pennipot pulled a tiny key from her robes and opened the wooden door in front of them. Upon entering, he was immediately drawn to several shelves along one wall each with at least twenty, medium sized cauldrons resting on top. Patrick peered over a cauldron on the lowest shelf to see a red leather ball submerged in a yellow liquid.
“Quods. Don’t know when we’ll be using those anymore. If this season goes well, we could be seeing a lot more Quidditch at Wentwater,” Professor Pennipot explained. “Go on, grab a seat.”
Patrick sat down on a stool in the middle of the room while Professor Pennipot shifted aside the trunk she and Professor Snerkin used to carry the Quidditch balls at the tryouts from in front of a cabinet. She handled thirteen brooms, dropped them on the floor and grabbed a stool next to Patrick setting down her key. Most of the bristles had already fallen off, leaving a trail from the closet. Professor Pennipot instructed him to gather as many bristles of the same length as he could while she fastened them one by one to the shaft of the broomstick with an adhesive charm. It was a simple, but tedious task, one that practically forced the two of them into holding a conversation.
“How was your summer, Patrick? Must have been exciting to finally receive your letter,” she said.
Patrick thought back to the uneasy feeling he got from reading a letter addressed to his current best friend, William. His excitement had been temporarily drained from him. It was perhaps one of the worst feelings he had ever experienced.
“Shocked, more like,” he muttered. “I just wonder, how it does it all get done?” He decided since he no longer had to serve his detention with Professor Sumpton, he might as well use this opportunity to gather any answers Professor Pennipot might be able to give him.
“Oh, you’d have to talk to Professor Snerkin about that. He’s the one that handles all the Wentwater letters. I reckon he’s got a good system worked out for things of that nature, with all the kids that go through here.”
Patrick was certain she was talking about a different Professor Snerkin, one that wouldn’t send the wrong letter to a prospective student.
“Some think he’s more efficient than the Republic, even,” she continued, “although, most wouldn’t consider that a compliment.”
“Why is everyone against the Republic, Professor?” Patrick never really understood the contempt everyone had against their government. His father of course complained all the time, but he never really gave any specific reasons, either that or Patrick never cared much to stick around and hear them.
“Not everyone is against the Republic, dear, but many aren’t very fond of President Filibuster. A while ago, there had been much trouble elsewhere in the world. People were dying, both wizards and Muggles. When President Filibuster was just was a senator, he had taken a great stand against helping those fighting the war overseas. He felt it would be best to let the country deal with their own problems. His opinion wasn’t well received, many called for his resignation, but his supporters knew it was ridiculous to have him lose his job for doing it.”
Patrick was still a bit confused.
“If so many people didn’t like him, how did he become president?” he asked.
“Well, his supporters outweighed his contester, that and his opponent, Elmer Slommack, had shown himself as being a less decisive leader than in his previous term. He lost his bid for re-election and I suppose Filibuster’s track record was enough to give him a commanding victory.”
“So, he is a good president? Why doesn’t everyone just leave him alone?”
“Well, even I can’t say whether or not he’s a good president at this point. But you can see that those who were against him are still speaking out. They probably found his stance against helping overseas unforgivable, assuming that should something happen again he would easily take up the same position.”
“That isn’t fair. They shouldn’t judge him like that,” Patrick said, grabbing a handful of bristles. “He hasn’t even done anything yet.”
“That’s how it is when you’re President. Whenever you make a move, you’re under scrutiny. It’s probably why everyone is focusing so much attention Professor Sumpton.”
“So you mean people only hate him because they actually hate Mr. Filibuster?” inquired Patrick.
“That’s my guess. It’s a shame, really. He’s a very pleasant man, always been very nice to me and the rest of the faculty. A little uptight, but that’s probably because of his job at the Republic and his father.”
Patrick thought back to the article he had read before his first Transfiguration class and the man in the picture next to President Filibuster.
“What about his father?” Patrick inquired.
“Timothy Sumpton. He’s the Secretary of Magic Defense. He’s got a no nonsense attitude that seems to be very popular with most wizards these days. The same people that don’t like Filibuster are raging fans of Sumpton and were really surprised that he was kept in Filibuster’s cabinet after being elected. It makes their contempt for Professor Sumpton even more peculiar, which means they must really dislike President Filibuster.”
“Why does it have to be so complicated?” wondered Patrick.
“Well, that’s the simple part,” Professor Pennipot said, smiling, “because it’s politics.”
Patrick and Professor Pennipot finished mending all of the brooms by the end of the hour. Once the last bristle was adhered, Patrick helped carry the sticks back into the closet where they were kept. The two of them were shuffling their way out when Patrick glanced over at one of the stools and noticed the key Professor Pennipot set down earlier.
“Professor, your key, you were going to leave it,” he said, pointing a finger at it.
“Oh, thank you. I’d hate to lose this. Only Professor Snerkin and I have a key and I’d hate to have to bother him with something as trivial as this.”
She placed it in her front pocket and bid goodnight to Patrick. He walked back to the common room to find that William had not returned yet. After gaining so much valuable information about the government he wanted to share it with him. It was Professor Snerkin who was responsible for sending Wentwater acceptance letters and it was President Filibuster’s views as a senator that was making him such a target of the public’s disdain. Not to mention, that Wizarding world decided to split their approval between the only two Sumptons in the government.
Patrick sat down in a chair, resting his feet from the long walk from the Quidditch field. Elizabeth entered the room from the girl’s dormitories, halting for moment before smirking and advancing on Patrick.
“So, how was your meeting with Professor Snerkin,” she asked, one of her eyebrows rising higher than the other.
“Oh…it was fine. Just went over some basics.”
“Is that so? Well, where’s William?”
Patrick was fumbling around for words. “He had t-to stay…’cause of all the””
“Nice try, Patrick, but I’m not stupid,” Elizabeth said, cutting in. “None of the other players on the team have even left the common room in the last thirty minutes, not to mention that Professor Snerkin came in, himself, to post the Quidditch schedule.”
“He did?” Patrick rushed over to the bulletin board, finding a white piece of parchment announcing the first Quidditch match on November third against Templeton Hall.
“Where were you, really?” she asked.
Patrick’s face was buried in the schedule, completely ignoring Elizabeth.
“Don’t think you’re going to get away with this. You and William aren’t telling me something and I’m going to find out what it is.” She stalked off back to her room muttering words inaudible to anyone around her.
Patrick examined the schedule. His first match was in a little more than a month and a half, but he still had not been approached by Professor Snerkin about a single Quidditch practice. He was beginning to think he wouldn’t be prepared when, at that moment, William came wearily into the common room, his face and robes smeared with dirt.
“What happened to you?” Patrick asked looking at William’s robes. There was dirt scattered all over William’s knees and sleeves.
“Professor Marigold happened,” he breathed, rubbing at his sleeves trying to clean off some of the gray patches. “She had me digging through plants trying to find Flobberworms. You should have seen the grin on her face, while I had to sit and listen to her talk about articles from Herbology Helper.”
Patrick laughed.
“Well, what did Professor Sumpton have you do? It must not have been much work seeing as your clothes are still clean.”
“He was only there for a minute, actually. I had my detention with Professor Pennipot. Didn’t have to do anything rough,” William looked cheated. Patrick had a much easier detention than he did. “I did learn some things.”
Patrick told William all about Professor Pennipot’s speculation about Professor Sumpton. How he was only being targeted because of President Filibuster’s previous decisions, how Professor Snerkin was the one in charge of sending each student their Wentwater letter, and even how she thought he and William were good flyers.
“So, wait,” William started, “does that mean Professor Snerkin didn’t want you to come to Wentwater?”
“Maybe, but Professor Snerkin has always been friendly to me. He even put me on the Quidditch team. If he hated me, why would he do that?”
“Don’t ask me, but we should probably find out.”
The remaining Quidditch tryouts wafted into October. A couple days after Mendel finished their trials, Patrick finally received word of the first Allard Hall Quidditch practice. Another notice was posted, directly below the match schedule, which announced the first practice to be held on the forthcoming Saturday. William stood impatiently behind him, watching Patrick check the schedule several times before leaving for Defense Against the Dark Arts. As they moved down the hall, the back of Theodore Polk’s portrait rippled revealing Patrick’s brother, Paul, and his friend Douglas push through into the common room.
“How’s it going, Patty,” Paul said, wearing a big grin. “Staying out of trouble? I wouldn’t want mom and dad to find out their little Patrick’s been in another detention.”
Douglas chuckled behind him. It took no time at all for Paul to hear about Patrick’s detention and to begin teasing him at every given chance. Patrick screwed up his freckled face staring right at his brother. “I was just telling Douglas, Patty, that I should really write home more often.” He cleared his throat, “Dear Mom,” he recited, Douglas behind him pretending to scribble a letter, “Patrick’s been awfully strange lately. He just can’t seem to stay out of detention and I think he might even lose his place on the Hall Quidditch team. Boy, I hope he doesn’t get expelled.” He finished, and both he and Douglas erupted in fits of laughter.
“I should probably be writing mom. You’re the one that’s been skipping Transfiguration lessons,” Patrick shot back. Patrick had seen Paul several times sitting around the grounds when he should have been sitting through Professor Sumpton’s classes.
“Do you think they care if I miss Sumpton’s class? They probably prefer I don’t sit in on classes taught by Republic clowns like him. I’m not going to waste my time,” he uttered.
“What about your C.A.T.s? You’ll need high scores if you””
“I’ll be fine. I’ve had Professor Goodstock the last six years. He knew what he was doing. I’ve got nothing to worry about,” he said, trailing off on the way to his room.
Putting his brother’s taunts aside, Patrick’s excitement for his first Quidditch practice grew during the week. His classes stood as nothing but obstacles in the way of Saturday afternoon. Professor Wiggins’ lesson on Horklumps, bristled carnivorous animals commonly mistaken for plants, seemed particularly trivial.
“Now, this is another one-a those pesky critters that can be taken care of with that Knock-Back Jinx I taught you,” he said, pulling out what looked like an overgrown pink mushroom. “Now, all you’ve gotta do is say the word Flipendo!” he jabbed at the creature covered in bristles as it bent backward onto the table. “Doesn’t harm ‘em, just stuns ‘em for a while, long enough for ya to feed ‘em to a gnome er somethin’.”
Patrick found plenty of time to doodle images of Snitches and Quaffles during that Thursday’s Charms class. Professor Pennipot was taking over for Professor Snerkin who, over the past five weeks, would periodically be summoned to the Republic. As was the case with anything Professor Pennipot did, classes run by her typically involved various references to anything related to flying. With the Quidditch season approaching, she managed to relate a lesson involving transfiguring socks into coin satchels into a rant about the rising cost of a decent Quaffle.
“Excuse me, Professor,” said Rylan girl with brown hair in pigtails. “This is Charms class.”
“Oh,” she said, clearly embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. Thank you for pointing that out Laverne.”
“I’m Lillian,” she corrected, again. “Laverne is my older sister.”
“That’s right, that’s right,” she responded. “Laverne Spinks, not a bad flyer. Made Chaser for Mendel didn’t she?”
Lillian nodded.
“No matter. We’ll just review what you’ve been practicing already.” She scanned the lesson plan that she obviously ignored the first time around.
“Fire charms,” piped Lillian again, afraid she might veer off again.
“Ah, thank you La…er…Lillian. That reminds me, the Burney Buzzards have been spectacular this season. On fire, you might say…”
While Patrick did not mind the decrease in work, people like Travis Sweeney, who much rather preferred Quodpot, dreaded finding Professor Pennipot teaching their lessons instead of Snerkin.
Potions class, which the Allards shared with the Templetons, had grown to be quite competitive. Patrick and William never let down their suspicions of Gregory since his narrow escape in the library. That day, William tried levitating extra cockroaches into Gregory’s Forgetfulness Potion, but he had not quite mastered the levitation charm Professor Snerkin had taught them, sending the cockroaches into Beverly York’s cauldron, which flashed momentarily before issuing a puff of wispy grey smoke.
“I can’t believe he’s getting away with it. We’ve got to get that book back from him somehow,” William said, glaring between Gregory and the unfinished potion he and Patrick were working on.
“I want that book back more than anyone else, but if this means another detention count me out,” said Patrick, definitively. He had been extremely fortunate with his first detention, there was no telling how he might handle another one if it wasn’t with Professor Pennipot.
William gave Patrick an annoyed grunt. “Not this again. If we don’t get it from him no one else will. Besides, I’m the one who had to tunnel like a Niffler with Professor Marigold while you and Professor Pennipot sat around chatting.”
“I got just lucky. I’m sure if he stayed, Professor Sumpton would have made me do something a bit more challenging than gather sticks.”
Patrick scooped a large amount of his potion into a vial and set in on Professor Litmus’ desk before walking out of her classroom.
“I’ll think of something and when I do, we’re going to get that book back,” William affirmed, looking back at Gregory who was looking smug while adding the last ingredients to his potion. His friendly demeanor had disappeared and he acted very different from the day that they met.
When it came time for Patrick to leave for his first practice on Saturday, William was sitting in the common room scrawling ideas on a sheet of parchment, stopping every so often to frantically scratch out a plan he did not think would fit. Patrick passed the floor ridden with William’s dismissed suggestions.
“You might want to pick these up,” Patrick said, grabbing and reading few of his ideas off the ground. “Use a summoning charm to retrieve the book. How are we going to do that? Can you perform a summoning charm?”
“No, but I’m sure we could find someone who can,” defended William.
“Besides you can’t just summon any book. We could have the whole library flying at us!” Patrick placed the crumpled paper on the table and read the next one. “Pay a goblin to find it…”
He looked at William, questionably. These ideas were hardly plausible ones.
“Get a drago”. This is ridiculous. You think that’s going to work?”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on using that one unless we really need to.”
Patrick tossed the balls of parchment on the table next to William.
“Hopefully, you come up with something better than this by the time I get back.”
Patrick walked through the portrait, out the Allard Building and to the Quidditch field. The locker room was empty and Patrick quickly changed into his robes and grabbed his broomstick before sprinting out to the field, fearing he was late.
He was first drawn to Professor Snerkin, who was lugging a large stack of papers, then focusing on the six others surrounding him, all in the same blue Quidditch robes that he was wearing.
“Ah! Patrick, now we can start!” he managed to say, speaking around the papers. “All of the House Masters are supposed to be present during the first practice, but as you can see here, I’ve still got many things to sort out, so I’ll leave you with Harvey Pinniger, your captain.”
Harvey smiled momentarily, as Professor Snerkin moved toward the Quidditch shed. With some difficulty, he turned the key, disappeared inside the room and appeared again, a moment later managing to levitate a large trunk, which carried the Quidditch balls, over to Harvey, setting it down at his feet. “Good luck!” he called, just before exiting the field.
“For those of you who don’t know who I am, I’m Harvey Pinniger and I’ll be playing Seeker this year. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d really like Allard Hall to be the first hall ever to win the Inter-Hall cup. So, if we could…”
His voice was lost along with Patrick’s attention due to a slight tugging on the sleeve of his robes. Patrick turned his head, his eyes meeting the two fingers pulling on his clothing then moving upward to see the round face of Gerald Flynn.
“Hello, Patrick. Are you ready to fly?”
“Yeah,” as excited as he was to finally start practice he was very curious about Professor Snerkin. “Do you know why Professor Snerkin isn’t staying around for the practice?”
“Well, he’s the Assistant Dean. You saw that stack. He’s probably got loads of papers to sign and fill out in order to finalize the change from Quodpot to Quidditch. You’d think it’d be easy to just shift sports, but Quidditch is a bit more dangerous. Professor Snerkin has to make sure everything passes through the Republic before we can play our first match. I should know, my father works at the Agency for Wizarding Games and Events.”
“Why doesn’t Professor Montgomery take care of that?” asked Patrick.
Gerald thought for a second. “Well, Professor Montgomery is really more the face of the school. Whenever I’ve seen him he’s never really been doing much work. It’s always been Snerkin that’s been putting in the extra mile.” Gerald twirled the Beater’s bat in his hands, looking toward Harvey as his speech finally came to an end.
“…and we’ll be taking the trophy to the common room in no time. So, everyone, mount your brooms,” Harvey said, his fingers reaching for the latch on the trunk.
“I should probably go over and join Ben,” Gerald said, walking over to the other Beater, Benjamin Speckley, and mounting his broom. Patrick heaved one leg over the frame and rose into the air. Allison Sinclair took her place in front of the set of goals on the left, while Gerald and Benjamin sat, hovering, above the center. Josephine and Kyle flew beside Patrick, just before Harvey unhooked the latch on the trunk and released the balls to begin practice.
The Bludgers shot upward, whizzed around in place then dashed around the field. Gerald and Benjamin were clutching their bats as if itching to get a chance to finally whack one. Harvey lifted out the Quaffle.
“Let’s put one person defending, and the other two attempting to score.” He tossed the ball up and down in his hands while he spoke, until finally heaving it upwards into Josephine’s hands. “Kyle, you defend first.”
Over an hour and several blocks later, the whole of the Allard Hall Quidditch team was exhausted, from what was a very heavy practice. Patrick managed to score a little more than half of his attempted shots on goal and even more blocks. Harvey was able to catch the Snitch three times during their practice. He would have caught four if it had not been for one of Benjamin’s stray Bludger hits. While they had no idea how good the other teams were, the Allards felt very confident with their performances when leaving the field.
No sooner had he pulled the drapes away from the locker room, had Patrick come face to face with Elizabeth’s strawberry red hair.
“Hello, Patrick,” she said, smiling. “How was practice?”
“It went well…I can’t wait until our first match,” Patrick beamed. They had started walking back from the Quidditch field.
Elizabeth smiled, “Yeah, I really hope we win! So, what are you and William up to?” she shifted, suddenly.
“What?” Patrick stopped walking for a moment, caught off-guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what is that nonsense William was scribbling about in the common room earlier today? I managed to read a little bit before he waved his quill at me. Something about setting ‘the weasel-brain, Huntington’s, head on fire.’ What’s going on between you and Gregory?”
“Nothing,” Patrick replied. Patrick knew what William was writing about before he left the common room. If William was continuing to scribble the same nonsense that he came up with prior to Patrick’s Quidditch practice, it seemed that their book would never be retrieved. “I don’t know what William is writing about.”
Elizabeth let out a derisive laugh, “Right, and I’m getting an ‘A’ in Astronomy. I just don’t see why you won’t tell me now. I will find out later.”
“I…I don’t think so.”
“We’ll see,” said Elizabeth, surreptitiously.
When they returned to the common room, the floor was completely clean of rumpled parchment and William leapt to his feet, pulling Patrick away from Elizabeth.
“Ok, I think I’ve got it. We’re”do you mind?”
Elizabeth had walked right next to the pair of them listening in.
“Actually, I do,” she retorted.
William led Patrick back to their room, listening to Elizabeth’s shouts. Her voice faded away as William shut and locked the door.
“So what’s your plan?”
“We’re going to sneak into the Templeton Common Room.”
Patrick groaned, which sounded oddly familiar to the one William gave before they headed to the library. “I think your dragon idea was better than this. You really think we can just waltz into their common room without anyone noticing?”
“Of course not,” he said, “that is, if we try and do it now. If we wait until later we’ll have a much better chance.”
“When should we do it, then?”
“Halloween. Just about everyone third year and up will be going into Wentley for Halloween, and all the rest will probably be here enjoying the feast. We’ll just go in, look around, and come right out.” The way he finished was as though there could not have been another plan simpler.
“Right, and how are we supposed to get in, exactly?”
“Leave that to me,” William said, “I’ll find the way in.”
The only thing on Patrick’s mind that was worse than getting caught sneaking into another Hall’s common room, was Elizabeth’s attempts at forcing his and William’s plan out of them. Elizabeth did not waste a single chance to pester Patrick or William. During the two weeks leading up to Halloween, she caused Patrick to incorrectly label his Astronomy charts, write over his History of Magic notes onto the desk and lose count of his stirrings in Potions; not to mention cause William to drop his focus on the Gust Charm Professor Snerkin was teaching them. Her interruptions became so frequent, it seemed as though she was appearing out of thin air, catching Patrick and William as they left the boys’ restroom.
It was almost impossible to concentrate on Halloween day. With double Defense Against the Dark Arts along with the Garrisons, Patrick and William fought between tuning out Elizabeth and listening to Professor Wiggins give the class instructions.
“Now, a lot of ya’ll’ve still been havin’ trouble with that knock-back jinx…”
“Come on, I know it’s killing you inside that you can’t tell me,” Elizabeth pressured.
William chortled. “Not as much as you’re killing my grades.”
“…just a simple twirl of ya’ wand, then point it at ya’”“
“If you just say what you’re up to, it’ll save you the embarrassment later,” she continued.
“Please,” Patrick pleaded, “I’m trying to listen.”
“…‘bout we all try knockin’ back those cushions right there on ya’ desks.”
“If you could find out what we were doing, then you would have done it by now,” William said. “And you’d already know that we were planning on grabbing extra sweets tonight, at the Halloween feast.”
“Is that right?” She raised an eyebrow and turned to her cushion. “Well, make sure you grab some for me, then. Flipendo!”
Her cushion flung itself a couple feet landing on the floor next to some of the other students’ successful attempts.
“How is it that she can spend so much time bugging us and still get her work done?” William asked, while leaving Professor Wiggins’ class. They rushed out the door as he dismissed them, leaving Elizabeth behind and almost toppling over Henri.
“I don’t understand either,” Patrick admitted, “but the sooner we get this over with the sooner she’ll stop bothering us. Do you know how to get in?”
“Yep, I overheard one of the older Templetons telling Justin Dawes the password. I guess he was having trouble remembering it.”
“Great, so when do we go?” questioned Patrick.
“Just like last time. We’ve got to wait for everyone to leave the common room.”
Patrick and William paced around their room waiting for the common room to clear out. Once the excited and raucous voices of Allards dissipated, they both crept cautiously out of their door and out the common room.
The grounds were illuminated by the Full Moon overhead, and howls could faintly be heard in the distance. The two of them passed by the greenhouses, seeing Professor Marigold on her knees waiting and watching intently for something near the trunks of the surrounding trees.
“She would be out waiting for Mooncalves while everyone is celebrating,” William remarked. “I’ve never seen anyone as crazy about Herbology as she is.”
They passed by her unnoticed, to the Templeton Hall building. Instead of heading straight, where the library and location of their last escapade was situated, they turned left and headed down another hallway. They marched up to a wall bearing two lanterns, both burning a bright red flame.
“Well,” Patrick said, looking to William. “Go ahead.”
Patrick nudged William in front of the wall.
“I know. I know…” William cleared his throat, “Sanctuary.”
The flames flashed from red to a golden-yellow, revealing a crack between the lanterns. The wall split apart exposing a previously concealed staircase.
The two of them hurried inside, hearing the wall close quickly behind them. The stairs covered a lengthy path, winding to the right and up into the Templeton Common Room. Stepping inside, Patrick could not help but feel as though he had walked into a large attic. The same lanterns that hung at the entrance were also affixed to the walls of the room, their flames golden-yellow as well. Where the Allards had red furniture, the armchairs and couches of the Templetons were yellow and were arranged around a large table in the middle of the room. On both ends of the hall next to a fireplace more, smaller flights of stairs, presumably led to the girls’ and boys’ dormitories. Patrick and William headed to the one on the right, putting their foot on the first step. Before they could place their feet on the second step, the third stair sprang up, stopping at the ceiling, forming a large wall preventing them from entering any further.
“Must be the girls’ dorms,” William said, stepping down from the stairs and hurrying across to the boys’ rooms.
“Any idea where his room would be?” Patrick asked, climbing up the other, non-threatening stairs.
“Well, if they’re anything like our dorms…” William pushed open the first door on the right leaving it ajar, and walked through the room that was positioned in the same place as the first years’ room in the Allard Hall. After a moment of quick perusal, Patrick knew he had found the right room. There was a picture of Gregory fighting intensely with an owl on a dresser to their right, next to a poster of the Darby Daredevils, Quodpot team.
“William, over here!” Patrick called. “You take his trunk I’ll search his dresser.”
Patrick tugged on the drawers searching frantically through them. Socks, scarves, ties, and pants were all that he could find, even after shifting them aside to look deeper. Patrick rearranged Gregory’s things as best as he could, before shutting the drawers altogether.
Patrick turned over to William. “Find anything?”
William was rummaging through Gregory’s trunk, taking less care than Patrick had been. Parchment, quills, schoolbooks, scales, a box of Sour Snails candy, and several wells of ink were lying on the floor surrounding William.
“Nothing here...maybe it’s in his bed?”
They both moved to start grabbing pillows and tearing away at his sheets, before hearing the soft taps of shoes through the open dorm door. There was someone moving around in the common room outside.
“Oh no, it’s Gregory.” Patrick said.
He quickly put the pillow he was holding down and moved to shove as many of Gregory’s things back into his trunk.
“Good,” William said, withdrawing his wand, “he’ll finally get what’s coming to him.”
“No,” Patrick warned, in an urgent whisper, “if we just stay quiet we can still get out of here without getting in trouble again. Quick, behind those curtains!”
Patrick climbed on top of another bed, the closest one to the door on his right, waited for William to jump in next to him and hurriedly jerked the yellow curtains of the four-poster bed shut. Patrick carefully peered through the drapes of the bed watching the door that they left open. A short hooded figure, wand raised, crept inside the room surveying the remaining mess William had made. It kneeled down in front of the trunk holding up a well of ink.
“Come on, Patrick, let me do it. Let me jinx him right now.” William demanded, forcing a whisper.
“No,” he hushed. “Wait ‘til he leaves.”
The hooded person placed the items still on the floor back into the trunk and closed it tightly.
“He’s probably just going to poke around a bit longer and then we can make our way ou””
“Flipendo!”
William’s yell was released before Patrick could finish his sentence. His attempt at casting the spell was unsuccessful, leaving both of them exposed. William leapt had leapt from the bed forcing Patrick to tumble off the mattress and land on the floor. The figure swirled around, its hood sliding down revealing several locks of red hair pulled back with an Alice band, and an amused freckled face. Patrick, now lying sideways, was dumbstruck.
“Elizabeth?” he and William said, together.
“I told you I’d find out sooner or later. You two decided it should be later.”
“Great,” Patrick said, picking himself up. “How’d you get in here?”
“I followed you,” she said, simply. “Didn’t you think I’d figure out that you weren’t actually getting more sweets when I didn’t see you leave the common room? I stuck around, watching from the girls’ side of the dorms, until you both sneaked out. Now,” she paused, lowering her wand, “are you ready to tell me what you’re up to?”
“It’s none of your busin”” William began, before he was interrupted, this time, by Patrick.
“Not now. We need to get out of here before anyone else comes back.”
Patrick fronted the way out of the room (after Elizabeth’s disappointed Fine!), down the small stairs and to the long path leading out of the Templeton Common Room. The wall parted once more as it had done on their way in. The three of them took two steps before seeing Professor Snerkin talking to an excitedly giddy, Mr. Vexing in one of the portraits.
“There they are now, Professor! Oh, trouble such as I’ve never seen before!” His sentence ended with a high pitched cackle, which clearly disturbed the witch whose portrait he was occupying.
“Great,” Patrick thought, again. “And just three days before our first match.”
“The three of you…to my office.” Professor Snerkin, spun around, his orange robes billowing behind him.
“Good way to spend a birthday, huh?” William uttered to Patrick out of the corner of his mouth.
Patrick looked shocked, and not for the first time this evening. “What?”
Mr. Vexing was bouncing from portrait to portrait following them out of the hall, hurling taunts at the three of them.
“The tykes tumbled into trouble! Surely, you haven’t got such a poor sense of direction that you can’t find your own common room, Thatcher!”
Patrick hardly felt like hearing Mr. Vexing’s comments at the present moment, but he didn’t have the will or confidence to offer a rebuttal to the portrait’s mockery.
“Today’s my birthday,” continued William. “I thought maybe we could get the book back as a present, but so much for that.
Patrick looked at him and gave a half-smile, while following behind Professor Snerkin. “Happy Birthday, William.”