After breakfast, the crew had elected to study Ancient Runes for the morning. Or at least Jocasta and Jill had; the two of them had been bewildered when Wren, Iphis and Sparrow had begged leave to avoid the lesson. Sparrow had reason to wonder how much Miranda herself might know, seemingly enmeshed with Wren and Iphis as she was; but she was in her greenhouse, and not here to give Iphis any cold stares.

So two students were left to handle the Ancient Runes on their own – blissfully ignorant of their true nature – while three were left to their own devices, two of them to retire to their workshop, one to wander alone for a while. As Sparrow made her way down the fifth-floor corridor, she began to feel what Wren might have been feeling between themself and Iphis, for Sparrow had sundered herself from her dear loves without even daring to explain why. All she had been able to do was to Send them her reassurances, and promise that someday, they would know all.

As for her business at this moment – she was not at all wandering, but had a clear place to go, and a certain someone to talk to, about matters more urgent than they might seem. She had made her polite request to the portrait of Sir Cadogan if he could get the other portraits to ask McGonagall if she might be able to meet Sparrow in her office; now it was only to stand gazing at the statue blocking the entrance to the Headmistress’ office, and hope that the message had been received.

There was the faint meow of a cat, and Sparrow jumped and spun around as the statue sprang aside. There stood Headmistress Mcgonagall, towering over her. "Hang on," said Sparrow, "did you just – was that your cat form or –"

"Wouldn’t you like to know," purred McGonagall, a smirk on her lips. She swept past Sparrow to the staircase, a faint purring sounding in the air.

Sparrow did her best to match McGonagall’s pace up the staircase, which forced her to take the steps two at a time. "What I’d like to know," said Sparrow, "is how much of you is still human."

McGonagall paused, turning back to look down at Sparrow with a weird light in her eye. "Enough."

"So if I turn into something –"

"I wonder if you have already seen the effects with Miss Carrow," said McGonagall. "Be warned of the disadvantages, depending upon your form. Goodness knows there are so many scents in this place! I have to use a spell to turn off my nose, sometimes." She turned back up the staircase.

"That’s how you always know who hasn’t washed their hands!" said Sparrow, as she scampered up after McGonagall.

"It is a blessing and a curse," said McGonagall.

The two of them stepped into the main area of the Headmistress’ office, filled as it was with the portraits of headmasters long gone by – still not permitted to participate, though there were very many visitors crowding the frames, as McGonagall threw up a shimmering muffling charm. It seemed Sparrow’s little request had got more attention than she had expected.

As well as some stern attention from McGonagall, as she whirled around. "Miss Jones," said the headmistress, "while I admire your ability to get people to aid you, I must regretfully dock you a hundred and fifty house points for presuming to order your own headmistress about."

Sparrow felt this was awfully unfair, she’d tried to word her request as politely as possible – likely the message had gotten garbled. Or maybe McGonagall’s nerves were frayed. Likely both. Sparrow elected not to argue that particular point. "Can house points go negative?"

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "Erm. No."

"Well I think I already lost all of them earlier this year," said Sparrow, "so, nothing left to lose there, and I’m already in Super Detention, so short of you chucking me out the door, which you don’t really want to do, the only thing I really have left to lose is your respect and my dignity. And my life, I suppose, but if I want to be a ghost –"

"Never ask for such a thing," said McGonagall. "Now, I was headed to my office anyway, and I have much to do, so I will not be tarrying. Make it snappy." She moved around the desk to sit at her chair, shuffling through papers.

Sparrow took a deep breath. "I was told by Inigo Aguirre and his friends that communication between here and the Pyrenees seems to be down. As well as communication between any of the Wizarding governments – and I asked Professor Budge about it, and he said he would take care of it himself, and he wouldn’t explain any further. I wondered if you might be able to tell me anything."

McGonagall’s papers scrunched in her hands. "Of course he would try to handle it all himself," she muttered.

"It’s true then?"

McGonagall nodded slowly.

"Then should we –"

"Who is we?" said McGonagall. "You have your training to attend to, I’m not expanding your mission parameters beyond Hogwarts and Hogsmeade."

"But –"

"I need you to be your very best before I can send you forth," said McGonagall. "If some danger might daunt entire Wizarding governments, what chance do you stand untrained? I will see if the Ministry is looking into the matter, and if not, I will consider who I might send to investigate. Not that I am free to go myself, what with this silent quasi-siege we have going. Which you and your crew are set to aid Professor Budge in lifting, anyway, so I should think that is your top priority. Do you understand?"

Sparrow nodded.

"Then you may go," said McGonagall, "and attend to your business. Hop to it, you only have so many weeks left."

Sparrow turned and made to scamper out of the office – but then she halted, and spun back around. "Why not send a ghost?"

McGonagall looked up from where she had been scratching away with a quill. "Excuse me?"

"Send a ghost to investigate across the channel," said Sparrow. "They’ve got quite decent resilience, I should think, and nothing better to do anyway."

"A ghost might say otherwise,"said McGonagall. "Being so keen on haunting a place, after all. A specific place."

"Well there’s got to be thousands of years worth of drowned sailors –"

"Who haunt ships, Miss Jones, or islands. But you are on the right track. I will consider the matter. Off you go."

Sparrow went.

Where she was to go, she was not certain. If Jill and company were still discussing the Ancient Runes, it would not be safe for Sparrow to return to the library. If she were to go to the Room of Requirement, she might be disturbing Wren and Iphis, and they were probably having furtive discussions about the Runes anyhow, so that was right out.

She elected to make her way to the Owlery, hoping she might be able to post her bloody letter this time. Perhaps the earlier failure had been a fluke. She still had the letter on her, not wanting to let it slip out of her mind – here was an opportunity.

The Owlery was not precisely deserted. There was one owl that was perched where a student could reach, the rest of them still high above. Or a taller student might reach, anyway – Sparrow had to levitate herself with her shield charm before she could get to it. She tied the letter to the indifferent barn owl’s leg, and asked it to take the message to the Joneses of Willoughby Cresecent, Hackney, London.

The owl blinked blearily at her. She’d picked a terrible hour to ask. But it did not reject the letter. Sparrow had to hope the owl would get moving in the evening. In the meantime, she looked up at the owls resting high above, and said, "Come on now, people have so many messages to their parents they want to send, what’s got all of you snubbing us?"

To this the owls made no reply.

Sparrow was left to grumble and mutter as she departed the owlery. She really ought to be asking ghosts to be sending the messages, if the owls weren’t up to it. As she made her way from the fourth floor to the third, she realized that she might even actually ask for that.

The image of a figure made of flame flashed into her mind. ††††† SPARROW DEAR, WE’VE CEASED TO DISCUSS THE RUNES. WILL YOU COME BACK TO US? †††††

Sparrow startled. ⋄⋄OH! TERRIBLY SORRY, I’LL JUST BE A MOMENT, I’VE GOT TO ASK SOMEONE SOMETHING. ⋄⋄

Except it turned out to be a longer moment, as she was not certain how she might be able to call upon any particular ghost – she was even in a spot where there weren’t any portraits on the walls, and she couldn’t ask them to be her messengers twice in one day anyway, could she? And what would it do to a ghost if she were to do a direct Secret Sending, such as Jill had just done with her – what was she to do then, just wait for a ghost to float along?

She was just about to give up and continue down the stairs when she caught sight of a ghostly figure floating towards her. It was the friar – the Fat Friar, as most called him, although those who were actually close to him, of which Sparrow never counted herself one, knew him as Brother Ealdwine. He was not truly a friar, as he had said – something about his order being much earlier than friars, Sparrow hadn’t been paying full attention to that bit.

Sparrow felt a twinge of guilt that she had never really spoken to him after her first year, in spite of him being the Hufflepuff ghost. She had always been too busy. So it was that she did not feel up to looking Ealdwine in the eye, as he approached. She cleared her throat. "Greetings, Brother. Fancy running into you this morning."

Ealdwine chuckled. "You make it sound like a coincidence! I’ve actually been meaning to contact you for quite some time. Only, you and your friends have seemed so busy and so serious that I did not wish to intrude, and I usually have my hands full with the first-years anyhow."

Twice shy, it seemed it was. Sparrow bowed her head. "My apologies. What did you mean to ask?"

"If I might offer you and your friends whatever counsel I could," said Ealdwine. "You have all seemed so troubled lately – I have even overheard you sounding terribly worried about it! Well, you know my role, I try to comfort the first-years, but I might take time to help you if you like."

Sparrow thought for a moment. As much as she and her friends needed counsel, she knew that the nature of their troubles might be beyond Ealdwine’s capabilities. He was quite good at saying "bear up young lass, it will be alright", but that wouldn’t be enough. Yet she didn’t want to brush the poor fellow off. "I will consider it," she finally said.

The image of a seated green glowing figure flashed into her mind. • SPARROW, ARE YOU DELAYED? •

⋄⋄JUST COMING. ⋄⋄ Sparrow turned to the stairs. "I’m terribly sorry, Brother, I must get back to the library now."

"Would you you like me to escort you?" said Ealdwine.

"You could race me," said Sparrow. She leapt off the side of the staircase and was soon far away from Ealdwine’s exclamations of dismay.

 

The scene in the library that greeted her was of a tense and wary peace. Jill and Jocasta, on one side of a table, both looked rather sullen and resigned; Iphis and Wren, on the other side of the table, were holding hands tightly, looking defiant. Miranda, now here in the library, was sitting at the head of the table, giving Iphis an enigmatic look.

"Right then," said Sparrow, "what have I come back to?"

"What we have agreed upon," said Iphis, his tone icy. "That the true purpose and nature of the Ancient Runes is something I will not reveal until the proper time, lest we endanger our academics."

"Which only tells me that there’s something suspicious about them," muttered Jill.

"My goodness," said Sparrow, feigning calm. To what use she did not know – she had scampered away from the subject just like Iphis and Wren, potentially tipping her hand. "I’ll have my opinion of this for you in a minute, I just need to go and check something in one of the stacks." She ducked into the shelving, soon hiding herself in the shadows.

There she closed her eyes, and concentrated on her thoughts of Iphis. In a moment, an image had taken shape in her mind – a humanoid figure glowing bright white, before a sky of dark clouds. ⋄⋄IFFY MY FRIEND, I THINK WE COCKED IT UP A BIT BY SCARPERING. NOW THEY’RE ON TO US.⋄⋄

≠≠≠≠ IT’S ALL COMING APART TOO SOON, ISN’T IT? I GOT CARELESS. ≠≠≠≠

⋄⋄ BEST WE CAN DO RIGHT NOW IS STOP BEING SO COLD AND WARY ABOUT THE WHOLE THING. I’LL HANDLE THAT IN A MOMENT, HANG ON. ⋄⋄

"Ahem," said a voice beside Sparrow.

She turned to see Friar Ealdwine’s head sticking out of the shelving. She yelped, and jumped.

Ealdwine chuckled. "I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve that you don’t, my friend."

"Sure." Sparrow brushed herself off, re-composing her dignity like a cat licking itself after a fall. "You’re still here to offer counsel, right?"

"If you will accept it," said Ealdwine.

"Hang back just a moment," said Sparrow, "I’ve got to talk to my friends about a delicate matter." She made her way out of the stacks, leaving Ealdwine to wait behind.

The scene at the table had not changed overmuch – Sparrow had not been gone long. But now Jocasta and Miranda were eyeing Iphis suspiciously. Jocasta’s wary eyes flicked to Sparrow. "You were Sending something to Iffy."

"I was," said Sparrow, seating herself in a businesslike manner. "And it was, as you know of such Sendings, done in strict confidence. Not that any of us are all that good at being covert, it seems, especially not with each other." She sighed. "I apologize for the suspicion and confusion, my dears. As I said before, all will be revealed in time."

Jill seemed mollified by these words, Jocasta less so, and Iphis only looked even more wary. Wren was only looking gloomy, as they laid their head on Iphis’ shoulder; Miranda remained cool, though not cold. Sparrow gave Iphis an apologetic look. "You’ve got chains wrapped about your heart, my friend. Like the rest of us, I suppose, only you’re adding more. Will you let them go?"

Iphis let out a long breath. "I can," he said, "eventually. After exams. If you could all please refrain from asking me anything more about the runes until then."

"You have my word," said Jill.

"I can keep my mouth shut," said Miranda.

"Let’s move on to a different topic," said Sparrow. "History of magic, anyone? We ought to be looking into the late 1600s, that’s a critical time, I should think."

"I can go get the books," said Jocasta, her voice suddenly chipper. There was a small thump of air as she became a fly and zipped away.

Sparrow and Iphis exchanged glances. Iphis put up his hands. "I am willing to take responsibility for this morning’s tension," he said, "going all the way back to my decision to look into the Ancient Runes. Never should have done it."

"We all make mistakes," said Jill.

"Even I have," said Miranda.

"Oh please," said Iphis. "You? I’ve never known you to make a mistake."

Sparrow and Miranda exchanged glances. "Never known," murmured Miranda. "Well, I suppose there’s much I haven’t yet said to you, have I."

"Whatever it was," said Iphis, "in my experience, you always know what you’re doing."

"What are you trying to do," said Wren, "melt her frozen heart?"

"Do I deserve it?" said Miranda.

There was a small thump of air, as Jocasta reappeared. Empty-handed. Glowering.

"Couldn’t find anything good?" said Sparrow.

"There’s nothing on the late 1600s," growled Jocasta. "Nothing from 1650 to 1750, it’s just not there."

Sparrow frowned. "You’d think the history of magic wouldn’t want to skip an entire hundred years! Especially since those were the years that the Statute of...oh, I might know what happened. Can we go and check the catalog?"

The students all upstarted from the table, moving to the front of the library, where the little drawers of the card catalog were stacked high. The librarian seemed a bit startled at their onrush, but directed them to a particular drawer without delay.

Yanking it open, Sparrow flipped through the cards, reading through the relevant titles. International Negotiations of the Statute of Secrecy, 1683-1699. Wizard-Muggle Relations, Late Seventeenth Century. Drawing the Curtain on the Wizarding World.

There were many similar titles. "I didn’t find a single one of these in the stacks," said Jocasta.

"Did someone check all of them out?" said Wren.

"It is obvious what happened," said Iphis, his fists clenched. "It’s the Ministry again. They take our theory and they take our history, and all that’s left is the things they tell us to do." His eyes glowed with a brilliant ultraviolet. "I am changing my vote on going down to London."

"Easy there partner," said Wren, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Don’t go kaboom yet. I’m right next to you, you’d get brains all over me. Ah, nuts. Can someone grab Miranda?" They gestured to the girl standing on their other side, whose eyes were glowing icy blue. "I’ve only got so many hands here."

Ice was the word, indeed, for the air began to grow colder. Sparrow linked her arm with Miranda’s, hoping she could help to warm the girl up, but she hissed as the cold began to seep into her own bones. It was only when she was smothered by Jocasta and Jill wrapping their arms around Miranda and Sparrow that the temperature began to stabilize.

"I’m melting," said Miranda, as the glow faded from her eyes.

"What a world," said Sparrow.

Soon enough the glow in Iphis’ eyes faded as well, and everyone let out long breaths as they returned to their seats. "Sorry about that," said Iphis, "it’s just...the very idea." He slumped. "It’s hard enough being in here, knowing that the place can be dismembered at any old time."

"I vaguely recall you saying you and Miranda wanted to go down to London and sneak into the Ministry library anyway," said Sparrow. "Why’d you vote against going then?"

"We didn’t have much of a real plan," said Miranda. "Nothing precise. Just concepts. There’s no sense in going down and just smashing things, or whatever it is you want to do. Do you even have a plan?"

"I’ve got courage," said Sparrow.

"She’s definitely got a heart," said Wren.

"You’re gonna need brains," said Iphis.

Sparrow caught sight of Brother Ealdwine floating towards them. "We’re gonna need to shut up about it right now."

"Greetings my young friends," said Ealdwine, as he came to float before the crew. "My apologies for the intrusion, but I could see two of you in obvious magical distress, and I wanted to ask how you were faring now."

"It’s just a little case of glowing eyes," said Iphis. "Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about!" said Ealdwine. "Nothing to worry about, my word lad, the last time I saw anything like that was when someone went off bang! And that was seven hundred years ago. Not at all common, you can’t tell me it’s normal, and it is my job to worry about the students, at least the first-years. Are you absolutely certain you’re alright?"

Everyone shook their heads sadly. "It’s some rough stuff," said Sparrow. "But it’s all confidential."

"I have some experience with confessionals," said Ealdwine.

Sparrow bristled at the thought of relating the worst moments of her life again. "That sounds like a heavy kind of counsel. Um – you said seven hundred years ago. Do you remember all of your thousand-odd years? Including, say, the late 1600s?"

"Well it does blur together a bit the farther back I go," said Ealdwine. "I wouldn’t expect you to be any different, if you went on that long, would I?"

"Then might I ask –"

"You might ask me on Monday," said Ealdwine. "Tomorrow is the Lord’s day, and no business that day, let me tell you! Oh, but I see you busying yourselves every single day of the week, even on the Sabbath – it’s a terrible sacrilege, I tell you."

Oh, yes, here was the other reason Sparrow had begun to avoid Ealdwine’s advice. He had a certain perspective he was coming from. "Surely we can’t waste a day, when our deadline of doom is approaching?"

"Or perhaps we could," said Jill. "Have we taken a single day off, since early January?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"And now here you are about to go off bang," said Ealdwine. "If I might venture to offer advice, my friends, I would say you need a real sabbath. You need rest. I always recommend a good night’s sleep to start with, and a full meal, both of those do a great deal to put a poor soul right, but it sounds to me like you’re going to need a bit more Rest And Relaxation than that. So, I’d say you ought to be keeping the Sabbath holy."

Sparrow herself would have said that she didn’t feel the need to listen to advice coming from a religion she hadn’t joined. But then, Ealdwine wasn’t exactly wrong, was he? She shrugged. "Couldn’t hurt."

"It could," said Iphis.

"So could going off bang," said Jill. "I certainly recommend avoiding burnout."

"Seconded," said Miranda.

"Thirded," said Jocasta.

Wren linked their arm with Iphis’, drawing closer to him. "I’ll let you work me even harder the next day if you like, alright?"

Jocasta’s eyes widened, her face taking on an an expression that looked like she’d been handed the opportunity of a lifetime. But before she could open her mouth to speak, Sparrow cut her off. "Alright everyone, I think that’s it for our Library work today, let’s adjourn and have ourselves a decent lunch, and then maybe teatime. Come on then." She herded everyone out of the room hurriedly, before any commentary from Jocasta could reach Brother Ealdwine’s pious ears.

Jill had expressed her hope that they could start their Sabbath right after lunch, but Iphis had insisted they at least continue their transfiguration work until the morrow. The compromise that Sparrow had come up with was that they would end their studies early for the day, and retire to their respective houses.

So it was, that in the golden light of the waning day, in one of the bay windows of the Hufflepuff common room, Sparrow and her beloved girls had taken their rest upon the window seat, basking in the sunbeams, Sparrow laying across Jill and Jocasta’s laps. It had not been a time of perfect silence, for, as it was a Saturday, the common room was full of coming and going, and there were those who took the opportunity to ask many questions. There were many who didn’t quite understand what all was going on with this supposed pirate crew.

Thus the afternoon was as much of a game of deciding what was safe to reveal, as it was a time of rest. But in those golden hours, it really felt like a game – quite unlike how Sparrow had to keep the secret of the Ancient Runes. There was nothing that might immediately blow up if anyone made a small slip. Not immediately, at least.

For Sparrow, it was also a time of deciding how much she wanted to actually ask the ghosts about anything. They might have knowledge that even a book didn’t have – but a book couldn’t blab to someone else that you had asked it anything. A ghost might think nothing of it. It was an angle of attack that could be even riskier than becoming an animagus – something that might require any particular ghost to be in strict confidence with her. Argus might be a good candidate, if she could find him. Friar Ealdwine – there he was, speaking to some of the first-years near the tea nook – might be a bit too gregarious.

But then, she could finally take his offer of counsel, and get him on side, if she were willing to put up with whatever pieties he offered. If she were willing to accept that his advice might be not perfectly useful. If she thought that the problems of her loved ones were even within his capacity to understand.

And yet he had seen such trouble, once upon a time, he had said.

She took Jill’s hand, and kissed it gently, drawing merry laughter from the girl. Laughter that would not last, not for any of their poor souls.

Perhaps it was foolish to refuse aid, however meager it might be.

Before they dreamt that evening, Sparrow had begged leave to take a single night’s respite from her march through the plains of hell. Jill had laughed, and kissed Sparrow atop the head, saying that she had just been about to suggest it, being Sabbath Even and all.

So in dreams, Sparrow only sat quietly with Jocasta, gazing out over the dreamscape, chatting of all the small things, trying to let worrisome thoughts pass away.