Patrick stood silently, completely shocked and dumbfounded. Nothing at this point was making any sense and now, his fears began to grow as he attempted to try and understand his current situation.
“Wha-what? I don’t understand,” sputtered Patrick, baffled.
Professor Sumpton chuckled to himself, shaking his head slowly.
“So naïve,” he said. “It’s really a wonder that you’ve found yourself so misguided. Of all the first-years in your class, you definitely seem to be the most curious. You’re always thinking and off in your own ideas, but you failed to see the truth right in front of your face.”
He was right. Even now, Patrick’s curiosity was part of the reason that he hadn’t already ran away just as he did with Professor Snerkin. That and the fact that he was so deep into the library that he wouldn’t have been able to navigate his way back to the desk.
“This doesn’t…that means you were behind....”
“Everything,” stressed Professor Sumpton, dipping his wand low enough to rest against his side. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering why you received Mr. Quinn’s letter before this year began,” “Patrick tried to nod, but only managed to tilt his head down slightly”“I needed to grab your family’s attention. Your oaf of a grandfather doesn’t deserve half the credit he is given and someone has to reveal him for the fraud he is.”
“That’s not true!” snapped Patrick. His throat began to tighten, forcing the words to struggle their way out.
“Oh, it is, and it’s only because of that compass he’s even done half the things he’s praised for.” Professor Sumpton’s mouth was screwed up in an ugly grimace that was unbefitting to his normally handsome face. “Regardless, that isn’t the point. I needed to motivate him to leave the house and come out in the open so I could retrieve that device. Unfortunately,” he said, advancing his wand forward at Patrick, “he never stepped foot outside that door, and instead, your family rushed to this school in order to try and salvage your Wizarding heritage. Although, I can, understand their worry. I wouldn’t want to be associated with a Squib, and without magical blood, you’re as good as useless in this world.”
Patrick winced his eyes at his remark. Although he, himself, was Pureblood, he hardly agreed that Muggle-borns or any non-magic persons, for that matter, were useless.
“That isn’t true, either,” protested Patrick, the words having less trouble forming this time.
“When I found out that your family had practically invaded Wentwater,” continued Professor Sumpton, ignoring Patrick, altogether, “I was able to convince my way into the post of Transfiguration teacher and President Filibuster arrived at Agnomon Square the next day to make the announcement. I figured that if you were attending school, I needed to be there, to keep tabs on you. After all,” he paused before continuing the rest of the sentence in very childish, condescending tone, “you’re the youngest Thatcher. Should anything happen to you I was sure that at some point your grandfather would intervene. And thanks to your good friend, Mr. Huntington, I discovered that it was you who had the compass, and quickly turned my focus from grandfather to grandson.”
“No,” said Patrick, still finding this hard to believe. “What about the letter in Professor Snerkin’s desk? He said he put me on the team and…”
“Me,” interrupted Professor Sumpton. “All me. It didn’t take much more than a flick of the wand to make the other Chasers miss a few goals to help unsure that you looked much better by comparison. However, I was impressed. I didn’t have to aid any of your shots into the goals. You did that on your own.
“In any case, Mr. Huntington had again helped me lure you into this very library, where I had already taken the book you were looking for. It was simply a matter of writing a letter myself and placing it in Professor Snerkin’s desk which was all too easy after his departure. I had urged Professor Pennipot to tell me all she knew about Professor Snerkin, trying to lure her into becoming curious about his actions, herself, trying to trick her into searching Snerkin’s classroom over Christmas break, but she insisted that she had too much work to investigate. Luckily, you found it and it apparently only increased your suspicions, making it much easier to gain your trust and lead you here.”
Patrick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. All this time he had been blaming Professor Snerkin and he was actually innocent all along. Professor Sumpton’s wand was still pointing squarely at Patrick’s chest, leaving Patrick no other option than to refrain from moving.
“I would have tried to take the compass back in this library the first time,” confessed Professor Sumpton, “but, alas, you had brought a friend with you and I couldn’t be bothered with having another student involved. I, instead, gave you detentions just as any normal teacher would have done. I specifically split the two of you up in your detentions hoping that I would have to wait no longer than twenty-four hours to obtain the tool that I so greatly desired, but I was again interrupted, and had to postpone this very meeting.
“By then, I had developed a plan that would not only allow me what I wanted, but would place the blame on another, leaving me free to do as I pleased, so long as I was patient.”
“And you made Professor Snerkin look like a criminal. You made him look like he wanted to get rid of me. To put me on the team so he could take the compass for himself, but it was really you. You were the one who did it all,” said Patrick piecing everything together in his head.
“Very perceptive, Mr. Thatcher,” replied Professor Sumpton, sarcastically. “After speaking with Professor Pennipot, I realized that it would be virtually impossible to gain access to the Quidditch shed before the game to frame Professor Snerkin. Fortunately, it is no coincidence that I am highly skilled in Transfiguration. It made the Switching Spell that I performed on the Quaffle that much easier to pull off.”
Everything was falling into place. The hardest part to swallow, though, was realizing just how wrong he had been about everything. Patrick was suddenly beginning to sympathize with Professor Snerkin after discovering all that he had gone through, especially for a blameless man.
“Why did you have to drag Professor Snerkin into this? I thought you didn’t want anyone else involved.”
“Wrong again, Mr. Thatcher,” he uttered, lifting his wand slightly shining it directly in Patrick’s face. Patrick winced his eyes and lifted his hands to his head to try and block the light that was blinding his vision. “I said that I didn’t want any other students involved. I was more than welcome to let another teacher take the fall, especially if it was the assistant dean. With him gone, I could try and finagle his position for myself and slowly change this school for my own benefit.
“So, naturally, I was thrilled when he was released at the beginning of this year, because it gave me another opportunity to exploit his presence in my favor. However, your grandfather was beginning to intrude. Sending letters to you that, thankfully, I intercepted before they could ever reach your hands. Surely, you must have been looking for your owl since you’ve returned to school. Figured he was out looking for food? Roaming around, perhaps?”
“Where is he?” demanded Patrick, feeling angered for the first time now.
“You already know where he is. You were staring at him when I entered my office. It’s such a nice sandal isn’t it?” he said with a malevolent grin. “Again, my talents in Transfiguration taking the forefront, in this case, for my own amusement.”
Framing a professor? Transfiguring an owl? Patrick couldn’t understand why he would go through all this trouble. Grandpa Thatcher barely understood what it all meant, but how did Professor Sumpton piece it together without even owning it?
“What’s so important about it? Why do you even want it?”
“Ah, why didn’t you ask sooner? I do not know what you think that compass does, but it certainly does a lot more than point you on your way North. It’s one of the most valuable tools I’ve ever come across and it is the only way I can ever hope to find what belongs to me and my family.”
“What do you mean? What is it that’s yours?”
Professor Sumpton scoffed, as if Patrick’s question was none of his concern.
“That’s a question for you to ask your grandfather. It’s only because of him that I’m unable to obtain it, but that will all change soon enough, and you won’t be harmed as long as you cooperate and tell me where that compass is.”
Professor Sumpton had advanced even more forcefully than he had before. His wand was mere centimeters from Patrick’s chest and the green light that was emanating from it was still glaringly bright. The last thing he wanted to do was help Professor Sumpton get his hands on the compass, but Patrick didn’t have much room to negotiate. He thought back to the contents he had in his book bag and made a decision.
“Please, Professor,” said Patrick, politely. “I’ll help you, if you could just move your wand a bit. I can’t see.”
The light remained on Patrick for a few seconds, until Professor Sumpton swept it to the side, Patrick was finally able to notice the skeptical expression on his teacher’s face.
“I just need to look in my bag, again. I wrote down where it was on one of the parchment.” Patrick shuffled through the contents pretending to look for the directions of the compass, while slipping the deck of Sizzling Flip cards into his robe pocket.
“Give me that!” snarled Professor Sumpton, grabbing the bag from Patrick’s hands and pulling out the pair of scrolls from within. He unraveled them, his face contorting itself angrily as though biting into a less than desirable fruit.
“There’s nothing here!” he shouted, stuffing the paper back into the bag and hurling it at Patrick. “Where is it?!”
Patrick didn’t respond, he didn’t even nudge his head up toward Professor Sumpton. He quickly slung the book bag over his shoulder, opened the deck of flashing cards and palmed them within his right hand. Then, with as much force as he could, he hurled the cards directly at Professor Sumpton.
They scattered everywhere. Fits of light shot from the all over the room, sending dazzling streaks of color into Professor Sumpton’s face, causing him to recoil at the initial flash, releasing a helpless moan while Patrick sat, crouched, shielding his eyes. As lost as he was in the library, he knew it wouldn’t have helped him to stick around, and used this diversion as an opportunity to break away. Somehow, now that the imminent threat had at least been postponed, there was a chance that Patrick could find a way to manage a path out of the library and he knew that there was very little time to do so; Professor Sumpton would only be distracted for a short time.
Not giving Professor Sumpton a second glance, Patrick dashed between the bookshelves, forcing his hands to guide him along the cases, feeling his way around. The library echoed each of Patrick’s footsteps, as though not one, but hundreds of students were running from bookshelf to bookshelf.
“Get back here! You won’t get away with this!” resounded Professor Sumpton’s voice, after the whizzes and whirrs of the cards subsided. The cacophonous tapping of Patrick’s feet were joined by Professor Sumpton’s, who was now obviously pursuing the escaping first-year, turning the once quiet hall into a dissonant collection of clatters.
The more he navigated, the brighter the room became. By now, Patrick could see the light of the librarian’s desk faintly shining from one end of the library. After discovering just how close he was to fleeing this nightmare, it served as motivation for Patrick to move faster and avoid capture. There was only darkness behind him and a fleeting look back to check for Professor Sumpton proved pointless. Nothing was remotely visible, making the thing that he had just plowed into during the few seconds he had taken to check behind him even more surprising. Patrick collided instantly and fell backward toward the ground, not noticing that Professor Snerkin had walked out from one of the rows of books.
“Mr. Thatcher, there you are!”
For the first time in months, Patrick had been immensely relieved to see Professor Snerkin. Now that he knew the truth, Patrick was filled with an overwhelming feeling of security. Professor Snerkin extended a hand to help bring the boy to his feet.
“You’re innocent…it’s not your fault…Sumpton…” panted Patrick, desperately trying to catch his breath.
“Relax, slow down,” calmed Professor Snerkin. “What’s going on? Why are you in here?”
Patrick grabbed a huge gulp of air and attempted to speak again. This time, fully formulated sentences came out, but now, overwhelmingly fast.
“I got scared when you asked me about the compass and I ran to Professor Sumpton, but he really wanted it and he brought me here to try and take it from me. It’s all his fault. He did everything.”
“And you’re sure of this?” asked Professor Snerkin, looking at Patrick with a kind of stare that was not to be questioned.
“Yes, positive.”
“You said he brought you here? Where is he?” Professor Snerkin suddenly withdrew his wand.
“He’s back there,” said Patrick pointing toward the shadowy center of the library. “He was following me, just a second ago.”
Professor Snerkin muttered “Lumos” just like Professor Sumpton had done, and raised his wand in the area Patrick had just directed.
“I want you to wait for me in my office. You’ll find your friend Mr. Quinn. You may join him there until I return. I trust you still remember the password.”
“Yes, sir,” confirmed Patrick. This was one instruction that Patrick had no trouble following. He no more wished to stay in the library any longer than he would wish to eat dinner with Professor Mott.
Patrick turned quickly back to the library’s entrance and wasted no time clambering his way out of the portrait and exiting the Templeton Hall.
By now, it had to have been quite a bit past noon, judging from where the sun was beating down across the grounds. The Commons still had groups of students sprinkled among its grassy surface studying, while Patrick had just been confronted and threatened by one of his own teachers, at least one of his former teachers. There was no way Professor Montgomery would allow Professor Sumpton to stay on staff after an ordeal like that.
Climbing up the stairs of the Allard Hall Building now felt incredibly laborious after the miniature marathon Patrick had just ran. The large tapestry of a colonial American flag rested along one wall of the building, as if on display at a museum for all to see.
“Warbler,” delivered Patrick, firmly.
The flag shot up, reeling itself high above the ground, while Patrick reached out to grab the handle on the now naked wall and entered the office.
William was sitting in a chair flipping a Galleon up and down in the air. Once he heard the door close behind him, he caught the coin in his hand and turned to see who had entered the room. Realizing it was Patrick, he spun his whole body around in the chair.
“What happened to you? Why did you go to that library?” asked William.
“Well, Professor Snerkin had asked about my com…Wait a minute,” paused Patrick. “How did you know I was in the library?”
“This.” William held up the Galleon that he had been carrying in his palm “I was halfway to the Dining Hall before it started to get really hot in my robe pocket. I took it out and the words “Wentwater Restricted Library” were written on the outside of it. That’s probably why your grandfather gave it to us. So we’d be able to find each other.”
Patrick reached in his bag and took out his own. The only thing he remembered doing was using his wand to search for the compass. Suddenly, it donned on him. He had used his wand to help look. Patrick tapped on the coin once with the tip of his wand and it sparkled again as it had done in the library. The coin in his hand had done nothing, but William was holding his and preparing to read aloud.
“‘Professor Ernest Snerkin’s Office’,” read William.
“I guess my grandpa didn’t get this at the last minute, after all,” said Patrick, impressed. “It could come in very handy in the future.”
“What did you do? Professor Snerkin didn’t tell the class what happened to you when he came to get Simon.”
“It’s because he asked me about the compass and I got scared. I ran to Professor Sumpton because he said he’d be there if I was ever afraid Professor Snerkin might do something. As soon as I told him about the compass, he took me to the library and he tried to take it from me. That’s when Professor Snerkin showed up.”
“That’s because I told him where you were,” admitted William.
“How’d you know you could trust Professor Snerkin?” asked Patrick in disbelief. William hadn’t come face to face with Professor Sumpton and heard his confession. To be honest, William had been the most adamant between the two of them, that Professor Snerkin was definitely the guilty party.
“After class, he stopped to ask me where you might be going. He showed me the””
William was cut off by the sudden entrance of Professor Snerkin to his office. He circled around to the front of his desk, not even getting the opportunity to sit down before Patrick exploded into a question.
“What happened? Where is he?” inquired Patrick.
Professor Snerkin finally sat down in her chair and exhaled deeply.
“He wasn’t there.”
“What do you mean he wasn’t there?” erupted Patrick. “He was standing right in front of me with his wand pointed at my chest. You’ve got to believe me.”
“I have no reason not to believe what you have told me,” Professor Snerkin said, calmly. “However, if Professor Sumpton was in there with you, he found a way to escape. I searched up and down that building and he was nowhere to be found. But, now that I have a better understanding of this situation, I can see why my asking about your compass would have caused you to run away.”
“It’s just,” started Patrick, apologetically, “we found the book in your desk, and a couple days ago we saw you reading a letter and you looked like you were trying to hide it and…”
“Well, I was. And for good reason, too.” Professor Snerkin poked the back of one of his drawers with his wand and pulled out a letter, the same one Patrick and William had caught him reading in the Owlery on Sunday.
“I showed this letter to Mr. Quinn, here, and, luckily, he was able to point me to you. It’s from your grandfather. He told me that you hadn’t been responding to the letters that he was sending and wanted me to check up on you and your compass, to make sure you weren’t in any trouble. Before the Quidditch incident occurred, he had been summoned to the Republic of Magic for particularly strange reasons and had been corresponding with me ever since your letter mistake.”
Patrick browsed the letter and found just what Professor Snerkin had been saying to be true. The slanted writing definitely belonged to his grandfather and helped make the situation even more clear.
“You’ll probably remember that I let you two and Ms. Crane off from a detention before our first Quidditch match. I didn’t know why you were in the Templeton Common room, but I couldn’t help but blame myself for the letter mix-up and I would have felt even more guilty for giving you a detention had that been the reason you were trespassing in another Hall.”
“It was actually because of Gregory Huntington,” said Patrick, placing his grandfather’s letter back on the desk. He continued to tell him the story of everything that had happened during the year and how he had taken Professor Montgomery’s intentions of hiring Professor Sumpton as proof that their Transfiguration teacher meant no harm. He continued to explain just how Professor Sumpton managed to manipulate all of the situations during the year, turning Patrick and William on Professor Snerkin, while finding a way to gain the information he needed on the compass.
William was listening to every word Patrick said, looking both intrigued at the truth and embarrassed for being so resolute in blaming Professor Snerkin.
“I will be informing Professor Montgomery of all of these things that you have told me, it is very important that this information be known, save anything about your compass, that is. I’m sure you and your grandfather would very much like that to remain a secret.” Professor Sumpton smiled. “I do believe that you have a week of exams left and you cannot study if you are spending your time sitting in my office.”
Patrick and William stood up from their seats and made their way toward the door. They could put this whole debacle behind them, for now, and focus on finishing out the school year.
“Mr. Thatcher,” called Professor Snerkin, from his desk. “If I remember correctly, you ran out on your practical portion of my exam.”
“I’m so sorry, professor. I’ll be willing to write an essay or…”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said, waving his hand as though swatting a fly. “Although, I don’t think we’ll be wanting this to fall into unwanted hands,” he continued, lifting up the letter off the desk. “If you could dispose of it with, say, a Fire Charm, I’d be willing to overlook your sudden departure from my class.”
A meek smile broke across Patrick’s face as we withdrew his wand from his robe pocket and pointed it at the piece of paper Professor Snerkin was holding between his fingers. He focused his mind completely on burning the parchment to pieces.
“Incendio.”
The letter burst into bright red flames and floated up the paper until the whole of it was engulfed, leaving small embers that floated down into Professor Snerkin’s hand.
“Excellent,” Professor Snerkin decreed. “You are free to leave.”
The two of them left the office and made their way to the Dining Hall for lunch. William insisted on hearing the story of what happened over and over, hearing it once on the way there, twice during lunch and again during their trip back to the common room, apparently wanting to hear every detail.
Once the two of them made it back to the common room several of the Allards approached Patrick asking where he had gone. After telling the story so many times, Patrick had become extremely exhausted, hardly finding the energy to come up with a suitable excuse as to why he shouldn’t have to tell it again. William, instead, decided to speak for him and announcing it to all that had gathered around him.
“Well, all you need to know is, Professor Sumpton was the one that tried to knock Patrick off his broom, not Professor Snerkin. And, now, we don’t even know where Professor Sumpton is.”
The small crowd that surrounded broke into whispers. Elizabeth emerged from the back of them and pulled Patrick to the side.
“Professor Sumpton was behind it and now they can’t find him? Patrick,” she said, suddenly excited, “you’ve got to tell me what happened. Don’t leave anything out.”
Patrick moaned as the thought of retelling his adventured entered his head.
“Talk to William, he knows.”
Elizabeth grabbed William by the robes and forced him over to her.
“Tell me everything you know.”
William and Elizabeth chatted for hours discussing every detail of the ordeal, leaving no aspect of it untouched. The two of them had talked long up until their Astronomy final that night, which Patrick guessed Elizabeth would have cared to miss.
The rest of their exams went by smoothly. Professor Wiggins was more impressed by the results of his class at the end of the year than he was before Christmas break, as every student managed to master the Knock-Back Jinx and most of the class finished their written tests promptly.
With Professor Sumpton missing entirely, Professor Montgomery stood in to administer the exam for Transfiguration. A lot of the students were still confused by his sudden disappearance, but were still able to concentrate when they had been given their parchment for their test.
Now with the knowledge that Gregory Huntington had contributed to helping Professor Sumpton, their Potions exam with the Templetons was distinctly different. Gregory seemed to be trying much harder at his potion than Patrick had ever seen him try before. Perhaps, it was because Professor Sumpton was gone and he had not studied a bit for Professor Litmus’ class.
Each group of students began to depart from the classroom one by one, leaving their vial of Shrinking Solution on Professor Litmus’ desk before stepping out the door. Gregory and Marcus were sitting in the back, frantically flipping through pages and tossing in ingredients unsure of exactly what they were doing. Patrick heard a loud bubbling noise and saw Professor Litmus running to the back to try and tend to it, before he and William left the classroom, laughing, themselves.
Their last week was spent relaxing and playing games. Henri managed to mend his Sizzling Flip ties with Jonathan Hiller and invited Patrick, who was now much more comfortable with playing with exploding cards, to join them. Elizabeth had taken to writing anything she found happening in the common room and writing it down in a notebook, much to the displeasure of Senior Office Andrea Dorsett, who had been received complaints that Elizabeth had been rifling through other student’s graded assignments.
During that time, Patrick and the rest of the school had been informed that the last Quidditch match of the year would be cancelled due to the investigation of Professor Sumpton’s disappearance. Needless to say, much of the students were disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to crown a Inter-Hall Quidditch Champion this year, especially since each Hall was vying to be the first one to hold the title.
The End of the Year Feast had the students discussing their newly released exam results over dinner. Myra remained giddily quiet over her seven “A”s, while William seemed pleasantly surprised at his marks.
“I knew I wasn’t going to get an ‘A’ in Herbology, but a ‘B-’ is a lot better than I expected. Of course, I could have been you and got an ‘A’ in everything except Magic History,” taunted William.
“Well?” shrugged Patrick. “ You’ll just have to try harder.”
Elizabeth did not mention what grades she got, which had Henri begging her to tell him. Patrick could hear his nudging comments all throughout dinner until Professor Montgomery rose from his seat at the head of the staff table, his dark brown and grey hair folding back as he stood upright.
“What a year it has been,” he began. “Memorable to some, forgettable to others, but a year to all, nonetheless. As you leave here tonight and prepare to venture on your way back to wherever it may be that you have joined us, try to remember all of the good things that have happened this year, for those will be the things worth remembering. And, always, look forward to the future, because, well,” and a faint smile spread across his face, “one of your halls will have to take the Quidditch Cup, won’t it?”
The students applauded and he sat back down to finish his meal.
“Eet’ll be Allard, I ‘ope,” he said, leaning forward to peer around the table at Patrick.
“Me, too, Henri,” Patrick replied, but he was already back to badgering Elizabeth, to hear what Patrick had said.
The next morning, the hustle and bustle of leaving school to head back home was very nerve-wracking. Students were searching all over the common room for items that they had misplaced and every student was dragging a trunk out to the long path that lead to the Wentwater Express.
Students were piling into the train cars slowly, carefully heaving their belongings in behind them. With such a long line of students it was easy to become entranced by the monotonous cycle of wizard stepping on the train then pulling inside their things. Patrick gazed, mesmerized, as no fewer than ten people repeated this same pattern, until his concentration was broken by an unexpected arrival.
Icarus had flapped down on Patrick’s shoulder, nipping his owner’s ear with his beak.
“Icarus! You’re back!” shouted Patrick, turning a few heads ahead of him. “I’m so sorry! Here…” He dug through his trunk and took out the bag of owl treats that he had attempted to give him over the past few months. Icarus pecked at the food rapidly, gobbling up the handful of snacks Patrick had placed on his palm, before sticking out his leg to show a scroll of parchment tied to it. Confused, Patrick took it from his owl and read its contents, silently.
“‘Sorry, it took so long to return him, I’ve been feeding him for you so he should be able to make the journey home. Keep an eye on him. Professor Snerkin.”
William, who was standing behind Patrick, was trying to feed him more treats.
“I think you can stay with us on the train. Mom or dad’ll have to change you into something else, though. Just until we get back to Arbridge,” Patrick added, after a loud, disapproving hoot from Icarus.
Patrick and William reached the train and lugged their trunks inside, finding an empty compartment and it wasn’t long before they were joined by Elizabeth and Henri.
“Who do you think we’ll have for Transfiguration next year?” asked Elizabeth, settling into her seat.
“As long as he doesn’t try to kill me during a Quidditch match, I don’t care,” remarked Patrick.
The four of them laughed.
The door slid open and Sarah Forrester’s head poked in the compartment, silencing the laughter.
“’Ello, Sarah,” greeted Henri.
“Hi,” she said, cheerily. “I just wanted to let you all know that it’s too bad that the last match was cancelled. I really wanted Garrison to beat you for the win.”
Patrick simply smirked.
“I hate to break it to you, but Allard Hall is going to be around and winning for a long time.”
“You better hope so. Cause I’d hate to have to help Garrison win year after year.” She waved goodbye and closed the door to the compartment.
They four of them waited another fifteen minutes before the train jerked forward and they made their way back from their first and most promising year of magic.
Patrick Thatcher and the Colonist's Compass by Dean Thomas
Chapter Notes: This is the last chapter of "Patrick Thatcher and the Colonist's Compass". You can read year two at http://fanfiction.mugglenet.com/viewstory.php?sid=51164