Finally they entered the biggest room yet, a high-ceilinged hall draped with pennants and banners. Over a door at the far end was a medallion of two serpents twined about a sheaf of heather. Minerva whirled about recognizing in turn the tartans of the Wallace, Macnair, and Campbell clans. And covering the wall of the door they had just come through, a great drapery embroidered with the Connghaill gryphon rampant, holding a rose, in gold on a field of blue. The sight made Minerva gasp.
“I knew it. We should not be here.”
“Why not?”
“These banners, these tartans…we must be trespassing…”
“No, we’re not. My father’s thane of this valley. That’s our crest over the door. We’ve a right…”
“We’ve no right! Ah, Petey, I think”I think”it’s the McGonagall Crypt we’re in!”
“And so what if it is? You’re an heir--”
“You ken no one should be entering this space without the clan chieftain being with them, lest”lest…”
“Ahhhh, you’re not afraid, are you, Minerva?” sneered Petey. “Afraid of a little curse?”
“Are we gonna kee burst?” whispered Gig, her eyes widening.
“Not if we leave right now,” said Minerva. She wasn’t sure of this, but she tried to pronounce it in a firm, sensible voice, hoping any spirits that were listening in would agree. Under no circumstances would she divulge in front of her flighty friend the awful punishment inflicted on trespassers: their insides turned out, their heads set ablaze.
“Just a bit further,” said Petey soothingly. “It’s probably okay. Nothing’s happened to us yet, and we’ve been in here a good while--though it’s probably just as well we didn’t touch anything.”
“I’m not going astother nep,” said Gig, “And if I had my wand with me I’d be out of here night row.”
“Come on, Petey. We’ve seen enough, I think.” Minerva made a pass at his wand, but missed and that put Petey in a taunting mood.
“Oh you McGonagalls, you're big with the Quidditch scoring and stories of bravery, but when you have to face something the least bit dangerous, your hearts turn to haggis. You’re a coward, Minerva, you are.”
“I’m no coward! I just think”this isn’t right.”
“All right, keep your kilt on. Wait here with gawping Giggie. I’ll be back in a few ticks.”
Since he held the only source of light, and since Gig was indeed looking ill, Minerva had to let him go on alone. She edged over to her friend in the deepening gloom and touched her arm. Soon they could hear Petey describing what he saw, and his voice echoed eerily back to them. He was obviously trying to tease them into coming after him, as boys will.
“Oh this is the biggest room yet! There’s big blocks of stone with lots of pictures and carvings. A wand sticking out of a hole on the top of this one. And over here another. This one’s heavy, must be a wizard’s. And you’ve got to see this great black…” Then his voice changed. “Wha? Whozzat? Gerroff me! Don’t come any closer…I’ve got a wan…”
They heard noises: it sounded like groans and muttering. From the sound of it Petey had met up with something a lot scarier than even a mountain troll. His voice was rising like a girl’s. “Don’t get all in a lather”I’ll put them back. No”now--get back, or I’ll Stun the lot of y----aaaaugh!” Mingled with his cry, they heard a rush of wind. Petey, his wand flickering dangerously, burst into the room. He flew past them, gibbering and crying, and made for the far exit.
Minerva saw in the fast diminishing light that Gig had gone rigid, her hands splayed about her cheeks and staring stupidly. She’d seen that look on cornered animals before”tharn the old folks called it. It was a prelude to mindless bolting or complete collapse. Instinctively, she embraced Gig to reassure her and also shield her as best she could from the rising gale. She mustered up what she hoped was a calm voice, but she had to shout to be heard, so the effect was lost.
“IT'LL BE ALL RIGHT GIG...JUST HOLD ON NOW!”
Behind them came a booming sound, as if a herd of crazed Graphorns was trying to fit through the doorway all at once. A really strong gust of wind caught her full in the back and knocked them both sprawling. As she hit the floor, Minerva inhaled a lungful of dust and--freezing air. She gagged and felt Gig coughing beneath her. They could hear the pennants and banners flapping furiously overhead. And there were voices, ebbing and flowing around them with the changes in the wind, keening, whispering, cursing. The coldest sensation Minerva had ever felt flooded through her. She hoped Gig was not hearing or feeling the same things she was. If so, she might never get her friend back out into the sunshine.
Now she heard Gig whisper, very slow and deliberate, though her teeth were chattering: “This p-place belongs to the w-wights and the ghouls, it does”like the b-b-barrows of the South Downs. Oh Minerva…”
“That’s not true,” Minerva whispered back. “It’s only the spirits of my ancestors”they’re good people, and they won’t harm me--or my friends.” Even if one so-called friend was a knock-kneed coward. She had a mental image of her last sight of Petey, his eyes white with terror and wailing like a banshee in a bog. The wind and the voices seemed to be dying away in the direction of his flight. Serve him right if they do turn his insides out, she thought.
“Come on now, Gig. Let’s go. I know the way, but I’ll need your help. One foot in front of the other.” That last was a saying Goodie Gudgeon used often, whenever there was a long journey or a hated task to complete. One foot afore the other, lass, an we’ll be hame in a wee.”
She tried to pull her friend to her feet. It was no easy task, because although Gig was hollow-boned and easy to maneuver as a rule, fear and rigor had made her into a dead weight. No, worse than dead”rigid and resistant. So Minerva did something she had never, ever done. She shook her, hard. Gig gave a little pinched sob and yielded to her younger friend's determination.
Now as Minerva looked around, she had to fight down panic. The darkness was so complete. There was no afterglow or starlight here deep underground to gradually reveal shapes and shadows. For a horrible instant she found herself wishing she could change back into the Beast she had been the other night. She remembered the keen awareness she’d had of everything: smells, sounds, shadows, infinitesimal movements of creeping things. Her whiskers”yes, she had had whiskers”had sensed every breath of breeze, every ripple set up by the minuscule vibrations of tiny beating prey-hearts.
And, by Circe, she thought she actually felt the start of that sensation, the beginnings of the Change, like an infusion of a hotter blood than her own into her veins, and with it a fierce animal energy. But she could not allow it to happen. However beneficial it might be, the sudden appearance of the Beast beside her would surely send Gig over the edge into madness. With a superhuman will, Minerva quelled the oddly reassuring tingle, squeezed it out of herself. She thought she heard a faint 'pop!' as if the effort had broken something inside her, but there was no time to dwell on that now.
Now they started back, hand in hand. Minerva remembered the order and general floor plan of each room, but she pretended ignorance and encouraged Gig to describe them as they stumbled along, to keep her sensible and 'in the game'.
"H-here's the Hardic Ball..." Minerva recalled the name--the Bardic Hall--as Petey had christened it in his lordly hubris. "We have to kee bareful here," Gig opined with a hint of returning strength. Minerva remembered thinking this herself, even when they had the benefit of Petey's light. Stringed instruments were ranged about the walls, the larger ones on randomly placed pedestals.
Gig was still talking as they felt their way, clinging to the wall. "...and if nee wock over that big hooden warp near the center, the noise will wurely shake any ghost that's still asleep." Minerva grinned at the crack and breathed relief that her friend’s sense of humor was returning. They felt their way around the edge of the chamber, only once knocking into something-- a round-bodied mandolin Minerva remembered. It had looked much like a cook pot with strings. It twanged a mournful note, like an Augurey’s song. They both giggled at this and knew now that they would be all right.They made it through The Library the same way, step by careful step. It was easier here. Shelves full of scrolls and books were ranged in parallel rows leading straight to the next opening. At one point Gig thought she heard a noise, a groan or something, but they waited several minutes and did not hear it again, so went on. But now came the challenge. Beyond the Library was the dreaded Hole-Room. They stood some precious moments, catching their breath.
Minerva led the way through the arch, with Gig behind, her right hand tucked into Minerva’s waistband, her left, like Minerva’s, feeling along the cavern wall. They negotiated the uneven ground without a misstep. Halfway round as she judged it, Minerva began to feel they could do this. She allowed her mind to stray from intense concentration on balance and foot placement to a cautious preview. Only three rooms to go: the Wardrobe (some standing suits of armor to avoid there, but most of its contents were robes and cloaks hung on wall pegs), The Armory with its gridwork of weapons, (again mainly on the walls, and, she hoped, with no sharp edges protruding into their path), and finally, The Mirror-room. It should be easy to find the hole to the outer cave. Surely it would give itself away with a glimmer of outside light and there would be light enough to see around those stalagmites. It couldn’t be night time. Not yet.
There was a gasp behind her. “Thumsing brushed my leg,” whispered Gig.
“It’s just a stone,” returned Minerva in a normal tone.
“No, it was”something--soft.” She was laboring to stay calm and make herself understood.
Not a bat then. Their wings were stiff and leathery. Then Minerva heard it”a patting or padding sound and something like snuffling coming from her right”from the Hole itself.