The Filibuster article failed to cause as much of a stir as Patrick had expected. Very few seemed to be concerned by, what they viewed as, a minor quibble that had been exaggerated by the newspapers. There was more talk around the common room of what their next password would be than of the dispute between the president and his secretary.
Any conversations about the article that might have been going on left no trace and evaporated along with the heavy rain that the month of April had lent the Wentwater grounds. The weeks passed faster than any had before, leaving only a month of school at Wentwater.
Now that May had rolled in, the first-years, along with the rest of the school, for that matter, were knee-deep in their studies for the end-of-the-year finals. It was becoming increasingly common for students to be seen walking through the halls while reading passages from their textbooks or to be attempting to transfigure objects outside on the grounds. There didn’t appear to be a single place at Wentwater that was without a diligent student hard at work.
This studious behavior prompted the Allards to follow suit, but not without their own share of difficulties. The common room had become so crowded with people that Patrick, William, Elizabeth, and Henri’s studying efforts had to be relocated to an area where their voices could actually be heard.
A quick peek inside the library was no more accommodating. The four of them could see Mr. Bowdle, irritatingly, addressing a group of Kinseys. The students seemed to have been having trouble convincing the librarian to direct them to the book they were looking for. A task that was probably more difficult than it normally was, owing to the hectic exam schedule.
Their previous attempts unfruitful, the four of them sought shade underneath a tree just outside the Templeton Hall Building, propping themselves comfortably against the trunk of a large elm. If anything, the breeze that floated through the air was far more pleasant than the stuffy atmosphere that would have been found anywhere indoors.
“How many constellations do you think Professor Dextra is going to want us to know?” asked Elizabeth, unraveling her star chart. There were several splotches of ink in various places that made it particularly difficult to differentiate between constellations and clusters of stars.
“Does it matter? It’s not like you know any of them,” quipped William.
Patrick didn’t bother to lift his head from his own chart, but was certain that Elizabeth had shot a nasty look at William, instead opting to rummage through his things.
“She went over all of the ones we needed to know last Tuesday. You were supposed to write them down.” Patrick grabbed a roll of parchment from his bag and handed it over to Elizabeth. “Here.”
“Er…right.,” she said, sounding as though writing down anything in Astronomy was a waste of time. “Thanks.”
“Don’t tell me you four are actually studying.”
Patrick tossed his head to the right, finding Gregory Huntington standing proudly in front two others. A seemingly bored Clarence Middling and Marcus Lickspittle, who was grasping a growling Fanged Frisbee in his right hand, flanked Gregory on both sides.
“I just hope you two are studying for Potions,” he said, directing his index finger at Elizabeth and Henri. “Merlin knows you need help with it.”
“Don’t worry about us,” snipped Henri. “Why don’t you start studying?”
Gregory laughed.
“I don’t need to study. Why study if you already know how to do everything? And we,” he stopped to point back to the two Templetons behind him”one of which, Clarence, was staring off into the distance and the other, Marcus, was fighting to wrench his hand free of the Frisbee”“already know how to do everything.”
“Except knowing how to be anything other than total dorks,” William snapped.
Patrick instantly noticed Gregory’s haughty expression change into an agitated sneer. Annoyance quickly filling his face, Gregory thrust his hand into his robe pocket.
“I should probably let you get back to preparing to fail. I just wanted to give you something that could help you study.”
He pulled out his hand and threw what appeared to be several tiny rocks in the direction of the studying Allards that scattered through the air, before landing on their laps. Patrick, curiously, picked up one of the items that had landed on him to discover they were not rocks, but shiny stones. The red one he had chosen rested only a second between his fingers before it shot out a thick, disgusting fluid over his clothes.
“Gobstones!” shouted Elizabeth, who, Patrick discovered upon a quick glance, had also been doused in the liquid.
“Zis is why I don’t play Gobstones!” uttered Henri, tossing the stone aside and wiping his hands on the grass.
The foul odor that accompanied was no more pleasant than the howls of laughter Gregory and Marcus were currently sharing. They scattered off, tailed by Clarence, toward the Dining Hall, leaving Patrick, William, Elizabeth, and Henri, trying to rid their robes and books of the putrid substance.
“Who does he think he is? Insulting us like that?” voiced Elizabeth, using her star chart to clean up her robes.
“I’d like to see heem pass his classes wizz’out studying,” added Henri. “’E’ll be stuck ‘ere until ‘e is fifty!”
Patrick was examining a pair of Gobstones that were resting on his palm. Unlike Elizabeth and Henri, he wasn’t so much concerned with the liquid that was splashed across his robes. Something had suddenly hit him. Something that he had not quite understood before, was beginning to become clearer.
The stone that he tripped on in the Historic Hall, the pinging sounds in the hidden library, the stone in Elizabeth and Henri’s potion. Those stones were identical to the ones he was holding in his hand, save their varying colors. It was no secret that Gregory was an avid player of Gobstones and it certainly explained a few of the instances that had occurred earlier in the year. It was a known fact that Gobstones, once a player lost a point, spurts a stinking fluid; a fluid that easily explains why Elizabeth and Henri’s potion went awry.
It was all starting to make perfect sense. If the Gobstone that William found did belong to Gregory, Patrick realized that he must have been present in the Historic Hall and overheard their conversation with Professor Allard. Which meant, he found out Patrick had the compass and probably wouldn’t have wasted any time reporting to Professor Snerkin all the information that he had gathered.
“Why didn’t we see this before?” asked Patrick, after he and William left Elizabeth and Henri to return to Allard Hall.
“I don’t know. We’ve always known Gregory was in on it,” guessed William. “Does it really help us all that much if we know that he was there?”
“Not so much, now,” began Patrick, “but since we know Professor Snerkin has been getting his information from Gregory, we’ve got to be more careful about what we say and when we say it.”
“Fine.”
Patrick paused to ponder more about his recent epiphany. As clear as the picture was becoming, there were still portions that didn’t add up.
“What I don’t get is, why is he helping Professor Snerkin? What’s the point? He doesn’t even know me.”
“Um….maybe…,” mumbled William, fishing around for an explanation. “Grades?”
“Huh?”
“You heard what he just told us. He doesn’t need to study. Maybe, Professor Snerkin told him that if he helped then he’d make sure he’d get good grades. Makes sense to me; he doesn’t ever seem to work too hard in Potions.”
“Could be.”
The two of them had walked a considerable way from the Templeton Hall and weren’t much farther from the Owlery. Patrick had still been carrying around the owl treats and had been checking every week, hoping Icarus would eventually turn up.
“I’m going to check and see if Icarus is back yet. If he’s there I think I’ll send a letter to my grandpa, he might want to know about this.”
“He’s got to be lost or something. I’ve never seen an owl gone for so long.”
As they approached, Patrick passed around the building and peered into one of the windows. The Owlery wasn’t empty.
“You should try talking to one of the””
“Shh!” hushed Patrick. “Get down!”
The two of them crouched down, their knees barely hovering above the grass and their eyes peeking over the bottom of the window to view the scene inside.
Professor Snerkin was standing in the middle of the Owlery, his fingers holding open a letter, reading it extremely fast and with a distinct sense of urgency that Patrick had never seen before. His eyes were rapidly flicking left to right and he did not seem to be bothered by the loud hoots of the owls that were swooping and flapping around his ears.
“How many Galleons do you want to bet that he’s reading a letter from whoever it is that’s helping him?” whispered William.
Patrick rifled through his pockets, pulled out a single Galleon, the same one he had been given by his grandpa for Christmas, and held it up in front of William.
“If I had anymore than this, I’d bet them, too.”
“Same,” said William, pulling out the one he had received.
They both turned their heads back inside the Owlery, just in time to see Professor Snerkin swiftly tuck the letter in his robe pocket.
Not wanting to be seen, Patrick and William sidled along the opposite direction, away from the Owlery’s entrance, until they had completely circled the building, to see Professor Snerkin marching off back to the Allard Hall building.
“Looks like he just got the new plan,” said William. “You might not want to get too close to him from now on.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” replied Patrick, walking into the Owlery. “There’s no way I can know where he is at all times. What if he sneaks up on me?”
William shrugged. Patrick was looking around the room and saw no sign of Icarus.
“He’s still not here!”
“Maybe he’s hiding from those treats you’re trying to give him.”
Patrick shot William a reproachful look.
“Kidding. I’m just kidding,’’ defended William.
Patrick and William returned to the common room, the bag of owl treats still tightly sealed and appearing to stay that way. After the two of them walked through Admiral Polk’s portrait, they were approached by Elizabeth, who had her hand latched to a textbook and was looking genuinely worried.
“Patrick, Professor Snerkin came in here looking for you,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. Patrick took a look at William, who gave the impression that their Hall Master was definitely attempting to reach Patrick as soon as possible.
“What?” added Elizabeth, her worrisome tone growing in her voice. “What is it? What do you know? You promised me!’
It took little effort to tell that Elizabeth had been startled by Professor Snerkin’s visit to the common room and even less to see that she was truly concerned with Patrick’s safety. In keeping with Patrick’s promise, he told her what he had discovered. The letter he found in the book about Abraham Ortelius and the information he learned from Professor Montgomery, as well as the revelation he had just made about Gregory. After having so much revealed to her, Elizabeth was none too pleased with being kept out of the loop.
“Why didn’t you tell me all of this? You promised me.”
“Well, actually,” started Patrick, cautiously, “I promised, that, from then on I’d tell you everything. The letter in the book and what happened in Professor Montgomery’s office happened before I made that promise.”
“It’s not like you wanted to hear what we said, anyway,” added William. “You and Henri were still arguing over whatever stupid stuff you were mad about.”
“It wasn’t stupid!” she barked. “I would have listened.. If the Republic of Magic got involved, then I want in. This is important stuff.”
“Well, now, we just saw him reading a letter from someone””
“Whoever is helping him,” interrupted William.
“Right,” finished Patrick, contemplatively. “From whoever is helping him. It’s just we don’t know who he’s working with and we don’t know what his plan is.”
“Why don’t you just follow him? See where he goes? It worked for me. I found you guys in the Templeton Common Room.”
“Yeah, then we got caught by Professor Snerkin. Even though he let us off, we can’t just assume that’s going to happen again,” reminded Patrick.
Elizabeth tilted her head onto her hand, digging between her strawberry-red locks of hair and shrugged.
“Then, I’m all out of ideas.”
“I didn’t think you’d have many. It’s hard to come up with a plan when we don’t know what we’re planning against,” said Patrick.
“All right, everyone. You’ve got finals tomorrow, you all should get to bed,” called Andrea Dorsett, another of Allard Hall’s senior officers.
Patrick, William, and Elizabeth picked themselves up from their seats and made their way across to the dormitories.
“Anything else, Patrick,” said Elizabeth, again. “I want to know.”
He nodded, convincingly, before bumping into Andrea, who was wrenching Simon and Travis from teaching Henri how to play some game involving a hovering top and silver rings. After a quick reprimanding, the three of them joined Patrick and William back to the room for the evening.
Even with finals beginning the next day, Patrick couldn’t keep his mind off of all of the things he had just told Elizabeth. Simon and Henri had taken their learning session inside and the whirring noises from the hovering top, coupled with their chattering voices, made it, easily, the worst night of sleep Patrick had ever had.
It was more evident the next morning during the first-year’s Magic History final. Professor Mott hadn’t bothered to change her monotonous tone as she distributed their test parchment, making Patrick’s eyes droop down with uncontested ease. William managed to jerk Patrick awake just before he was to be handed his Anti-Cheating Quill.
Luckily, Patrick was so familiar with the material that he was able to complete his test before he became too drowsy to answer the questions. No sooner had he finished scratching in the name of the first wizard colony in America did Patrick fall back asleep, only to have to be nudged awake again, once Professor Mott’s hourglass was empty.
He had fared much better during their Herbology exam, considering this final was more of a practical exam and required much more attention on his part. In the month since they had first attempted to prune the Gribbleworts, their spiral branches had grown to great lengths and, according to Professor Marigold, needed to be planted.
Professor Marigold watched each student bury their Gribblewort in a patch of dirt set outside the greenhouse and asked them basic Herbology questions as they did so. Since Patrick and William shared the same plant, they were given the option to decide who would plant and who would answer questions. Considering Patrick was much more adept at Herbology and needed to regain his alertness, William decided that Patrick should handle their Gribblewort.
It proved to be just the wake-up Patrick needed. The thin, spindly roots of the plant easily latched into the ground instead of onto the side of other plants or around his arm as Professor Marigold had warned them.
Patrick effortlessly avoided the chatter in the common room, deciding to gain the rest he was unable to get the previous night in return. The others seemed to be so busy studying that no one noticed Patrick slip off into his room and bury himself in his covers.
There was a clear difference from this morning and the last. Despite the fact that he had gone to bed so early that he was the first of the Allard boys to wake up, Patrick felt remarkably refreshed. The hefty drowsiness that had hung on his eyes was no longer there and he had regained a bit of his usual tenacity.
Patrick advanced his way to the common room, hoisting his book bag over his shoulder deciding to use his extra time to study for today’s Charms exam with Professor Snerkin. He had managed his way through to the Fire Charm before the common room began to fill with more students readying themselves for the day ahead.
William and Henri stumbled out of their slumber on the way to breakfast that morning. Strands of Elizabeth’s hair were peeking out from under her Alice band as she, the second least drowsy of the four, followed just behind Patrick during their walk towards the Dining Hall.
“Do you think you’re going to be fine in class, today?” asked Elizabeth.
“I did a bit of studying this morning and I think I know all there is to know,” replied Patrick, confidently.
“No,” she responded, dropping her voice, “I mean with Professor Snerkin.”
“I guess so. I mean, it’s not like he’ll try anything right in front of the class. There’s no way he’d get away with it,” Patrick said, rolling his wand between his fingers.
“I’m just making sure,” said Elizabeth. “If you think he’s up to something, it would just make sense for you to look out. Even if you don’t think it could happen.
“Sure,” agreed Patrick. “I’ll try.”
Patrick’s main concern once they got to Professor Snerkin’s classroom was to try and ace his final, so he could at least ease his mind about his school marks.
The first portion of the class was spent on a written exam over the various Charms and wand work necessary to cast them. All the students were given a roll of parchment and, another Anti-Cheating Quill to complete their exam of forty questions.
What is the incantation for the Wind Charm?
Patrick stared at the words printed is dark, black ink on the page before scribbling the answer beneath it. He finished quickly and sat quietly, listening to the scratchy scraping of less than twenty quills against the paper. Patrick turned his eyes upward to Professor Snerkin, who was standing at the far end of the classroom surveying his students, assuredly to check for any potential cheaters. His dark brown eyes were wandering around the room, following no particular pattern, simply swirling about then shifting side to side, until, for no more than a second, they landed on Patrick.
Professor Snerkin rapidly tore his gaze away, pushed himself from his position, and advanced toward the class.
“All right, time’s up. Roll up your parchment.”
Groans erupted from the students who had obviously not yet finished the test as they reluctantly spun their exams into scrolls to hand to their teacher.
“I only got to thirty-one,” confessed William, as he finished rolling up his test.
“We will finish with the practical portion of the exam so I hope you can prove to me that you can perform the spells that you were just tested on,” Professor Snerkin announced while waving his wand to collect the parchment.
“Ms. Akamatsu, you will be first. Follow me.”
Shinobu rose from her seat, her black hair swaying side to side as she trailed behind Professor Snerkin out of the classroom.
Both the Allards and Garrisons burst into conversations after the door closed. Some were comparing their answers to the test with one another, while others were scanning the pages of their book for a last-minute refresher.
Having been gone no more than five minutes, Shinobu returned, telling Jacob Bartlett to take her place outside of the classroom. Caroline Woods and Ellen-Anne Worley both leaned near her to ask what she had been required to perform, leaving the rest of the class sitting quietly anticipating their own turn.
Patrick didn’t have any idea how the other students were doing. There wasn’t very much to go on. There had been, however, a loud thump while Henri was out of the room and Patrick judged from the sound made during Adam Minsky’s time out of the room, that a few paintings had fallen down.
Myra’s face looked no different than usual when she returned, leading Patrick to believe that she had done well on her practical portion. William, who immediately followed her, appeared less-confident and relatively disappointed.
“I did fine with the Levitation Charm, but I couldn’t control my water one,” he admitted, taking his seat again.
Travis Sweeney seemed to have been gone for the shortest amount of time and finally ushered Patrick out to the final part of his Charms exam.
He strode, timorously, grabbing his book bag by the handle and fixing it along his shoulder, while moving toward the door. It suddenly felt heavier or himself weaker, as he attempted to wrench it open. Professor Snerkin stood there, decorated in his violet robes and holding a large scroll of parchment that Patrick immediately determined was being used to record the class’ grades. There was a moment’s hesitance until Professor Snerkin spoke.
“Mr. Thatcher, before we begin, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Patrick shifted uneasily in his spot and merely nodded.
“You have something. Something that you probably don’t understand how to use.”
He slid away from Professor Snerkin, inching back slowly, as not to make it noticeable that he was becoming increasingly unsteady.
“And if I’m not mistaken, it’s a compass…”
There was no denying it now. Professor Snerkin did know about the compass. He was confronting Patrick so boldly that it seemed as though this conversation could hardly be happening.
At any rate, Patrick couldn’t think of what to say, he didn’t want to confirm or deny anything, he just continued to step backward, little by little.
“If, perhaps,” Professor Snerkin continued, pacing forward, apparently detecting Patrick retreating, “you could simply show it to me, then…”
Patrick didn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence. He was sprinting at full speed through the Allard Hall, clinging to the banister to help keep his balance as he sped down the stairs and right out of the building. It wasn’t exactly clear how fast he was running, but Patrick knew that he had to get away from Professor Snerkin before he had the chance to do anything.
One thought continued to circle around in Patrick’s mind. Get help. Telling Professor Montgomery would do no good and Patrick didn’t feel close enough to many of the other teachers to try and ask for their help. There was no guessing who he had to see next. After all, it was his responsibility to watch over Patrick in the first place. Patrick continued to dash across the Wentwater grounds and hurried into the Kinsey Hall building.
A pair of fifth-years scoffed as Patrick pushed between them to enter the Hall. He turned left around one of the corners and saw a large group of fourth-years piling into the Transfiguration classroom. Having just slowed down long enough to survey the hall, Patrick took off full speed toward the students and classroom.
The fourth-years were trickling inside slowly, restricting Patrick to the back of them. At this point, it was impossible to stand still. He no longer had any room to run, but his feet were moving anxiously, jumping up and down, trying to give Patrick a better view over the other students of where their teacher was.
As if standing guard over the room, Professor Sumpton was waiting at the edge of the door for each of his students to enter and take their seats. His eyes were filled with interest and confusion once he saw the blonde, jumping first-year in the back.
“Mr. Thatcher, what brings you…”
“I need to talk to you,” Patrick said, cutting off Professor Sumpton’s sentence. He then dropped his voice to a whisper, “It’s about Professor Snerkin.
Professor Sumpton’s eyes widened a bit then took a glance over at his roomful of students.
“I’ve still got to finish up this class…we’ve only just come from a break.” Patrick didn’t want to hear that he was unavailable. He had been told that he was always there to help. Before Patrick could attempt to plead him for assistance, Professor Sumpton continued to speak.
“You can, however, sit in my office until my lesson is over. It’s right over there.” He pointed at a painting across the hall with his wand that immediately swung open. “Go on.”
Patrick nodded, stepped over to the portrait and walked inside. The picture returned to its proper spot, sealing Patrick inside the room.
Of all the offices he had seen throughout the year, this one had been the least decorated. Hundreds of rolls of parchment were placed all around the room and there sat a single quill atop Professor Sumpton’s desk. The only thing that stood out, or more accurately, seemed out of place, was a leather sandal with feathered wings attached to the rear. Seeing as it was the only interesting thing in the room, Patrick became fascinated with it, and would have inspected it closer if it hadn’t been encased in glass.
Close to an hour he sat, waiting, staring at the shoe, his earlier nervousness melting away, until finally Professor Sumpton pulled open the portrait and circled around the room taking a seat across from Patrick in his own chair. His hands were clasped together and resting in the center of the desk.
“What was it that you needed to tell me?” asked Professor Sumpton, cautiously.
Patrick didn’t know where to start. Should he tell Professor Sumpton everything that he had deduced? Maybe it was most prudent to simply inform him of what had just happened.
“I-I was taking my Charms exam and Professor Snerkin was walking toward me and…and,” Patrick looked away, turning to the winged sandal as if by habit. Unsure if he should mention exactly what Professor Snerkin was looking for.
“Yes?” said Professor Sumpton, urging Patrick to finish his sentence.
“And…he was asking me to give him something…my compass.”
To Patrick, the words lingered in the air for a lot longer than any words should ever linger. Professor Sumpton merely acknowledged Patrick by tilting his head down and staring at his joined hands. After exhaling, he stood up, suddenly and withdrew his wand pointing it at the portrait that served as the door.
“Follow me,” he said, calmly, heading straight out of the room.
Suffice it to say, Patrick was direly confused. Professor Sumpton was walking very fast; so much so, that Patrick had to leap to his feet and follow him out the door in order to even question him.
“What? Where are we going?” he asked.
“We cannot continue this conversation in my office,” Professor Sumpton answered, not bothering to look back at Patrick. “We will discuss this in a place much more private.”
There was only one place at Wentwater that Patrick assumed would be private enough, but was unsure if that was where they were headed.
The two of them left the Kinsey hall building and were now hurrying along the cobblestone path, Professor Sumpton’s strides rapid and as long as possible for the speed he was going. Patrick occasionally broke into a jog, noticing himself headed toward the Templeton Hall building. His guess had been right and was confirmed once Professor Sumpton stopped in front of the large world map that served as the secret entrance to the hidden library.
He tapped the four countries in the same sequence that Gregory had done during Patrick’s previous visit and the tiny whirlpool that had been created started to swirl in exactly the same way it had before.
Once it became big enough, Professor Sumpton climbed inside the hole that now covered the greater portion of the map and forced his way to the other side of the portrait. Patrick followed behind him, hoping that, once inside, he could finally put his fears to rest.
He managed his way down from the opening and walked toward Professor Sumpton. The interior was just as Patrick had remembered it, except the books that sparingly filled the shelves were not exactly the same ones as before and were located in different places, akin to their positions in the actual library, Patrick thought.
“Over here,” waved Professor Sumpton, setting off at a brisk pace to the heart of the library. “Explain to me now, what Professor Snerkin was saying about this compass of yours.”
“Well, he was…he was just asking me to show it to him,” said Patrick. “I didn’t tell anyone I had it, except for a couple of my friends, but someone must have let him know I had it. Another student, I think.”
Professor Sumpton merely continued deeper into the library, his hands positioned comfortably behind his back. It was getting darker the further they walked, but Patrick could still see the inquisitive look on Professor Sumpton’s face.
“And do you have this compass with you? In your bag perhaps?” Professor Sumpton gestured to the book bag Patrick had still been carrying on his shoulder.
“I-I don’t think so,” replied Patrick. He slid the bag off his shoulder and began to quickly sort through it with his wand gripped tightly in his hand. He poked at each of the objects with his wand checking them; a quill, a couple rolls of parchment, the deck of Sizzling Flip cards, his grandfather’s Galleon, which sparkled momentarily after it had been touched by Patrick’s wand. “No, it’s not in here.”
“Where can I find it?” asked Professor Sumpton, finally stopping. It was too dark now to see very much and if it wasn’t for a lantern hanging high above them, it would have been impossible to notice Professor Sumpton’s eyes peering down greedily at Patrick.
“Why do you want to know?” questioned Patrick, in return, suddenly feeling put off by Professor Sumpton’s question. “That’s not the important part.”
Professor Sumpton withdrew his wand and uttered the word, “Lumos.” A green light erupted from the tip of his wand and illuminated much of the area around them, more importantly highlighting the, now menacing, brown eyes of his Transfiguration teacher.
“That is the most important part of all.”