Sparrow had not been lying. She was going to go and see Professor Clearwater, she was going to be back shortly. Nor was she lying to Wren, for the matter did indeed involve them. Sparrow could only count it lucky that her girlfriends were going to be so very busy with each other that they wouldn’t think to Send any questions to her –

But she had brought it upon herself that she would be fielding direct questions from Wren. She could only be grateful that it took as long as reaching the bottom of the Great Staircase for the questions to come out. "Right," said Wren, getting in front of Sparrow and whirling around to bring her to a halt. "What is this about, exactly? I understand why you might be seeking my Wireless, but what does Professor Clearwater have to do with it?"

"You’ve got keen ears," said Sparrow. "Wearing some special ear trumpets you whipped up yesterday, are you?"

Wren nodded vigorously, causing a couple bits of gleaming metal to fall out from behind their ears and strike the stones with a tiny ringing noise. "Oh bother." They stooped to scoop up the little devices. "I should have removed them, I’m terribly sorry, I was just trying to give them a stress test."

Sparrow chuckled, in spite of her current state. "It’s almost like you can’t stop making things. I admire your craft, my friend. As I will have need of it shortly."

"You betcha," said Wren, "we’ve been gearing up for that. But I need you to tell me what we’re doing, and how and why, if you please." They folded their arms, looking slightly annoyed. "If you would mind not beating about the bush any further?"

Sparrow prepared herself to explain the matter, but then she hesitated. The subject at hand was delicate enough without someone having a personal interest in it, and someone from her crew hearing news that struck right at their heart, well, that wouldn’t do wonders for the decorations and the masonry, would it. Sparrow let out a long sigh. "I apologize sincerely, Wren, but I am afraid I am going to have to beat about the bush a bit further, this is an extreme situation that I would not wish to discuss out loud in any place that I worry about destroying."

Wren’s face changed from annoyance to deep concern. "You think you might go off bang, then? It’s that bad?"

"Oh no," said Sparrow, "no, I never go off bang, not like the rest of my dear crew. It’s you I am concerned for."

Wren pointed to themself and raised their eyebrows.

"Let’s just get a move on," said Sparrow. She swerved past Wren and ascended the stairs, two at a time, three at at time. She had a great deal more energy than she’d had ten minutes ago, courtesy of Jill. Too much, in fact. She came to a halt on the first landing and gripped the railing.

"You alright?" said Wren.

"No," said Sparrow, "like I said, this is an extreme situation. Excuse me, I’ve got to Send a message." She closed her eyes, and concentrated on her thoughts of her mother one last time.

Once more the grey form took shape. This time, though, it jumped, startled, looking around.

⋄⋄I sent you an owl. Too slow. Go to ground. Admit no one. I am coming. ⋄⋄

The figure reached out for Sparrow.

But then her eyes snapped open, and she was met with another pounding headache. Well. At least this time it had worked.

"What are you two up to then?" growled a familiar voice.

Sparrow jumped. Beside her floated the ghost of Argus Filch, looking curious and disdainful as ever.

"That’s a good question," said Wren, a little testily. "What are we up to?"

Sparrow cleared her throat. "Just getting ready to ascend this stupid staircase. You know how it is. Or you did, anyway."

Argus gave her a piercing look. "So close to curfew?" He jerked a thumb at the entryway. "Hufflepuff house is located down that way this evening."

"Oh no no," said Sparrow. "Just going to ask Professor Clearwater for a divination. Just, you know, to make sure I’m on the right course."

Wren looked a little affronted. "You weren’t going to ask me then?"

"I am going to explain it to you," growled Sparrow. "In an appropriate place."

"I would have guessed you were going to snog your girl in one of the restrooms," sneered Argus.

"I will have you know," said Sparrow with a grin, "that I can do that with both of them in front of all my fellow Hufflepuffs, and no one would mind."

Argus snorted. "Kids these days."

"Probably aren’t the least bit different than the ones you grew up with," said Sparrow. "Do you want to accompany us to Clearwater’s office, so you can see that I’m not lying? You could be our chaperone for being out after curfew.”

“Hrm…” Argus stroked his chin. “Yes, I would certainly need to see the truth of this.” He looked up at the staircase. “Good luck getting up those, though.”

Sparrow looked up. The stairs were doing their usual random movement. And the divination tower was accessed from the sixth floor this evening. Great. That was going to waste a ton of her short timeframe. It wouldn’t be more than twenty minutes before her girls stopped being too busy with each other to ask after her. Well, give it twenty-five. Or thirty. Or actually, they would want her to join in, so give it ten.

She waved a hand, casting her shield spell in a flat disc before her. She jumped on. "Bet we can get there before you do. Wren, come on."

"Ha!" said Wren. "I’m racing you too." They grabbed the corners of their cloak, and, drawing the fabric up, brought it down sharply, ascending into the air. "The wonders of runes! See you at the top." They beat the air with their cloak, swiftly rising away.

"We’ll see about that," said Sparrow, and she directed her disc to rise.

She’d expected to rush past Wren quickly, but just as she was rising above the second floor, the third-floor staircase moved right over her. She swerved her disc to the left, but the tilting nearly dumped her off, and after desperately righting herself, she had to cast a wall-crawling spell on her feet. Concentrating on two spell effects at once was immediately draining. She was rather swiftly falling behind both of her rivals, as Wren continued to rise, and Argus just floated up past her, giving her a smirk.

And then, as if she wasn’t behind enough, the image of a humanoid figure made of flames filled Sparrow’s vision. ††††† LITTLE BIRD, WILL YOU BE BACK SOON? WE’RE MISSING YOU ALREADY. †††††

Sparrow was startled into nearly losing concentration on the disc. She couldn’t spare any thought towards answering. Which was just going to make Jill suspicious. Sparrow growled in frustration, then took out her spare vial of the leaping potion, downed it, dismissed the wall-crawling spell, and leapt off her disc towards the wall, drawing a cry of indignation from Wren. But she paid them no heed as she soared.

Hastily re-casting the spell just before she hit the stone, she then leapt towards the far wall, flipping over a moving staircase as she did so – which happened to contain Madame Abbot, who was startled into nearly falling on the staircase. She picked herself up as Sparrow hit the wall. “Miss Jones, what in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

Wren flapped upward from below the bannister, starling Madame Abbot again. "Sorry Madame," said Wren, "we’re just trying to find Professor Clearwater before curfew."

"With what chaperone?"

Argus Filch floated up through the staircase, startling Madame Abbot for a third time. "Don’t worry," said Argus, "they’re with me. I’ll see they get where they ought to be."

Now Madame Abbot was looking mighty put out. "Just for that," she said, "if Sparrow breaks any bones with her antics, I shall give her skele-gro."

Sparrow shuddered. There were less painful ways of healing bones these days. Which Madame Abbot knew perfectly well.

She leapt off once again, upward and upward, dodging staircases as she went, swiftly leaving Wren and Argus behind, until she reached the right-hand sixth-floor corridor. As she caught her breath, waiting for the two to meet up with her, the image of a green humanoid figure in a high-backed chair filled her vision. • HONEY, WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING?

⋄⋄SORRY, I’M A LITTLE BUSY WITH THE BLASTED STAIRCASES. I WILL BE BACK SOON.⋄⋄

The image disappeared. Shortly thereafter, Argus floated up through the landing, soon followed by Wren. "Changing your means of locomotion in the middle of a race," said Wren. "It’s a cheat, I tell you, a terrible cheat."

"All’s fair when you’re trying to get somewhere before curfew," said Argus. "Now, let’s be finding your precious professor, shall we?" He floated forward, beckoning Sparrow to follow.

But follow Sparrow did not – she marched forward, not wishing to waste a moment. Behind her Wren fairly jogged. "Is this a safe place to tell me what’s up now?" panted Wren. "I’d dearly love to know the plan here."

"Plan is to get Clearwater to tell me what I’m heading into," said Sparrow.

"I detect a singular pronoun there," said Wren. "You’re not bringing me along?"

"Not if I don’t want Iphis to blow his stack," said Sparrow. "Mina said I was the only who would be able to survive going down to London. So, I’m the only one going."

"Wait," said Wren, "who? What? How are you – hang on!" But Sparrow was not listening, as she marched doublequick down the corridor.

Only to realize that the journey to the divination tower was taking much longer than it ought to, with many more twists and turns than an ordinary day. Yes, and she’d passed this particular portrait already. She came to an abrupt halt at a T-intersection, Wren slightly thumping against her back as they were brought up short. "Dammit," growled Sparrow, resting her forehead against a wall, "not this shit again."

“I can make a beeline,” said Argus. “Give me a moment.” He floated through the wall and disappeared.

Sparrow turned around and sat with her back up to the wall. "Alright," she said, "gonna be a bit longer, Wren, promise I’m not trying to stall."

As Wren sat down beside her, Sparrow concentrated on her thoughts of Wilhelmina Burke. The most striking picture she had of the girl was at the Valentine’s Day Ball, when she was a head taller than Sparrow, with pale skin and golden hair – but the girl could be any size and shape, things certainly weren’t coalescing if she just focused on one mental image or any image. It was the girl’s character that mattered – tempting, leading, guiding, manipulating, as the lead partner in a dance. Ever waltzing Sparrow around.

It took a few more seconds for a vision to finally solidify in her mind – two rainbow discs, side by side, floating on a background of pitch black.⋄⋄ MINA.MEET ME IN THE DUNGEONS. BRING THE PORTKEY. ⋄⋄

The two discs narrowed into almond shapes. 

⋄⋄ PLEASE. I AM PREPARED TO TAKE YOUR OFFER. ⋄⋄

“What’s that then?” said the voice of Argus Filch. “Meditating, are we?”

The vision vanished. Sparrow’s eyes flew open. Argus was floating there before her. She rose to her feet. “Did you find Clearwater? Is she not seeing visitors this evening?”

"No visitors," he said. "She didn’t take kindly to me being there, even. Busy, busy. That’s that, then, I’ll escort you to your common room."

Sparrow sprang to her feet. "That’s alright, sir, I think we can find our way back quickly enough. It should be faster going down the staircase than up, right?"

"Even faster if you fall off it," said Argus. "Well go on then. Curfew’s in ten, any professor stops you just tell them you’re on your way home." He floated through the wall and disappeared.

The hallway on the way back to the Great Staircase was a straight shot. Sparrow marched down it double-quick as before, forcing Wren to once more jog behind her. "Good heavens," panted Wren, as they reached the stairs, "I’m slightly taller than you and still I have a hard time keeping up here. Are you that eager to get in before curfew? Do you care about rules all of a sudden?"

Sparrow made no word in reply, but pointed up, to the seventh level.

"We’re...not letting the matter rest then."

Sparrow put a finger to her lips. She motioned Wren to follow, scampering up the staircase, barely waiting for Wren before setting off down the corridor. Nor did she speak aloud as she made the customary circuit around the seventh floor, in spite of Wren’s initial protestations.

It was only when Wren spoke in a way she could not ignore that she halted. ∫∫∫∫∫∫ DAMMIT SPARROW, GIVE ME SOME DAD-BLASTED ANSWERS HERE. ∫∫∫∫∫∫

⋄⋄ SORRY, SORRY.⋄⋄ She pointed to the door that had appeared in the wall. ⋄⋄ANSWERS IN A MOMENT, LET’S GET IN.⋄⋄

As the two of them entered the Room of Requirement, Sparrow saw it in a configuration she’d never witnessed before. The walls were no longer fancy oak panels and painted plaster, but dull grey steel – no longer lit by wall sconces, but by countless small skylights. The floor was great slabs of flat stone.

Upon the wall by the door was tacked a notice: You are your own House Elf service. Please clean up after yourself. Sparrow bristled at the outdated terminology, but she got the point. The room – or the castle, the boundaries were probably blurry – hadn’t entirely forgiven her for the previous incident.

"The heck is this?" said Wren. "Is that the door to my workshop? Why is it metal?"

Sparrow took a deep breath in. "Alright. It’s finally safe to give you some real answers. You want to know why I’ve kept my mouth shut? You want to know why this place looks like an old bunker? What I’m about to tell you isn’t going to be pretty, and from what I’ve seen of my girlfriends, and what I’ve seen of you, I’m pretty sure I know how it will go."

Wren looked disturbed. "What...what do you mean?"

Sparrow rummaged in her pocket, only to realize that she’d sent her message off on the owl with the very letter her parents had written. Silently cursing her haste, she closed her eyes, and concentrated on her thoughts of Wren.

In a few moments, an image coalesced in her mind – a silhouette before the fires of a forge. ⋄⋄ALRIGHT, I’M SENDING TO YOU BECAUSE THE NEWS MIGHT BE EASIER TO TAKE THIS WAY. ⋄⋄ She proceeded to describe to Wren what the letter had said.

At the beginning of the tale the figure had been as fidgety and restless as Wren usually was. But as the tale wore on, the figure grew still.

For a moment, there was no answer, nor any trace of moment from the image of Wren. But then Sparrow noticed that the forge behind them was rapidly growing brighter. Before Sparrow could react, the entire scene was filled with a burst of flame –

Sparrow was cast out of the vision with a pounding headache, stumbling backwards onto the floor. She blinked as reality returned to her sight. There was Wren, eyes glowing orange, open mouth glowing orange, surrounded in an aura of orange light, breathing rapidly. The air was rapidly growing hotter, not the dry oven heat of Jill’s outburst, but something humid, clinging, oppressive.

Sparrow might have ventured some words of reassurance. But before she could say anything, or even react, she was knocked to the side and spun around as Wren took off like a shot, a streak of orange light hurtling towards the far wall. The light bounced off at an angle and kept going, this way and that about the room, sometimes passing Sparrow by a hairsbreadth and spinning her around again with the sudden rush of air. And all the while the air was growing more oppressive still, as Wren’s Sending reverberated in Sparrow’s aching head. ∫∫∫∫∫∫ STUPID STUPID STUPID. I WASTED TIME. SHOULD HAVE BEEN DONE WEEKS AGO. DOWN TO LONDON NOW. ∫∫∫∫∫∫

The streak of light shot towards the great metal door, which slammed open, then slammed closed, the huge echo reverberating in the space.

In another moment, the door slammed open again, the orange streak of light shooting out of it straight towards Sparrow. She reacted without even thinking, throwing up her hand to cast a translucent golden barrier before her –

The orange streak slammed into the barrier with a brilliant flash of golden light, as a vast warbling wobbling sound filled the room, giving Sparrow yet another headache, on top of an everything-else ache as she was thrown backward multiple meters onto the floor.

When she painfully picked herself up, she could see Wren lying there on the stone, eyes closed. She hobbled as best she could to their side and knelt. ⋄⋄WREN? ⋄⋄

Wren’s eyes opened, still glowing orange. They slapped a hand on the stone and hopped to a crouching position, breathing heavily. ∫∫∫∫∫ RUN DOWN TO LONDON, FOLLOW ME.∫∫∫∫∫∫∫

⋄⋄NO, WREN – ⋄⋄

But Wren tried to take off from their crouch, straight past Sparrow. By some miracle of reflexes Sparrow was able to grab hold of Wren, bowling them forward and herself backward, hard onto the stone, the wind knocked out of her, her shoulderblades aching from the blow – still she held onto Wren as they thrashed. ⋄⋄WREN, PLEASE. LISTEN TO ME. ⋄⋄

Yet Wren made no answer, not even sending, only trying to struggle out of Sparrow’s grasp, as the two of them rolled around the floor. They beat Sparrow upon the back, they knocked their head into Sparrow’s temple, they scratched, they pinched – still Sparrow held on.

Yet though her will was of iron, her body was not, and with one final blow, she was battered into releasing her grip. She was thrown backward onto the floor once more as Wren disappeared in a streak of orange light –

And then there was a voice from the doorway. "Immobulus."

Sparrow rolled over and pushed herself up to see Wren, frozen in place, still glowing orange. Professor Clearwater stood there in front of the open door, bedecked in her robe of floor-length sleeves, wand trained on Wren. Her face visibly straining, her hand visibly shaking. "Goddamn," she growled, "I’ve never felt like I was running out of power this fast."

The door slammed behind her. Between her and the door stood a tall, stout figure of close-cropped hair, whose eyes bore rainbow irises. "Maybe just let the kid go?" said Wilhelmina. "I’ve got the door closed."

Sparrow coughed. "You think Wren is so feral that they can’t open doors?"

"One could only hope," growled Professor Clearwater. "But there are other methods of resolving this matter." She twitched her wand. A jet of red light shot out the end of it at the exact moment Wren shot forward. A streak of orange light ducked the jet and sped past Clearwater and Wilhelmina, blowing them both aside in the violet wind of its passage, slamming open the door and disappearing down the hall.

There was a faint thunk, as a palm-sized ball of wood and brass hit the floor. Professor Clearwater picked it up, regarding it with curiosity. She glanced at Wilhelmina, who was looking bewildered, and at Sparrow. Sparrow struggled to her feet, holding out her hand for the Remember Ball.

Professor Clearwater placed it in Sparrow’s hand. She looked at the open doorway, and sighed. "Well, my dear little chickadees. I was going to offer counsel on the potential results of running down to London. But something tells me that the choice has been made for you." She pointed her wand at Sparrow, the air rippling as she cast many minor healing spells, the pain in Sparrow’s back easing immediately. "Or one might say, the choices are narrower."

"Did you see this happening?" said Sparrow. "Actually, you know what, I don’t have a moment to waste here. Mina, give me the portkey now please."

"As long as we go together," said Wilhelmina.

"You said I was the only one who could survive going down there," said Sparrow. "Give me the damn portkey."

"I’m not part of your crew," said Wilhelmina, folding her arms. "You can’t order me about. It’s with me or not at all."

"I don’t have time for this," growled Sparrow. "Wren could be down in London right now."

"You’ve got ten minutes," said Professor Clearwater. "Ten minutes to make a decision."

"What decision!" said Sparrow. "I’m not leaving Wren alone! I’ve made up my mind!"

"The decision," said Clearwater, "is whether you go on your own or you take your entire crew. And before you make that decision – consider that I am here, instead of stuck in a battle of scrying. Think about what it might mean, that fate made space and time for me to step away from that fight."

Sparrow did not need to think long before the answer came to her. "That the choice I make here is highly fateful?"

Clearwater nodded.

"And I’m going to guess you found me and Wren here," said Sparrow, "because it ultimately involves my entire crew."

"One way or another," said Clearwater.

"And if I don’t take them," said Sparrow, "what vision do you foresee?"

Professor Clearwater closed her eyes for a moment. Then they snapped open, a white light shining out of them briefly. "Toppled towers, blocks on fire."

"And...if I do?"

"Bright flashes of light and rumbling thunder at a great iron gate," said Clearwater.

Sparrow folded her arms. "Sucks either way, great. Except one wrecks shit and the other gets nowhere. Like that’s – wait a minute." Her mind flashed back to a few minutes ago. "You acted surprised that Wren got loose. Does that mean there’s some kind of wiggle room for defying fate after all?"

"Visions are usually ambiguous enough that there’s plenty of room for maneuvering," said Clearwater. "Or, at least, you think there is."

"Great," said Sparrow. "There’s a way out of this mess. I just have to intercept Wren before they reach the gate, and then it can be a stealth mission as planned." She glanced at Wilhelmina. "But you, Mina, you keep sounding like you know what’s going on down there, even if you won’t tell me."

Wilhelmina looked nervous. "Um –"

"So you get to go with me," said Sparrow, "and help me navigate whatever dangers I might face. Deal?"

"Sounds...like a deal to me." Wilhelmina drew the portkey out of her pocket, holding it in her palm. "It’s enchanted to only act when you touch it. So. Whenever you’re ready."

Sparrow nearly reached for the portkey, but first she glanced at Professor Clearwater. The woman shrugged. "You’re looking to me for more visions now? I’ve given you what I can. And you make it sound like you conveniently don’t want to believe in them. So. All I can tell you is that I will be immediately informing your crew of your actions, and that when you explain what happened to Professor McGonagall, I will gladly speak up on your behalf."

"Wait," said Sparrow, "what do you mean when? Did you have a vision about that?"

Clewarwater chuckled. "No, no. I simply know you too well."

"So be it." Sparrow turned back to Wilhelmina. "Let’s do this then." She slapped her palm down on the glass ball.

All at once she felt like she had been yanked forward from right behind her navel. The world began to spin around, and around, and around, a whirling blur of light and dark, and the only fixed point within it was Wilhelmina, clinging on to the ball just the same.

And then, just as suddenly, everything stopped, leaving Sparrow stumbling sideways in a daze of dizziness. As the world spun slowly, she could not tell where she had ended up, only that it was dark and damp, lit by feeble streetlamps. She could only hear the sound of glass shattering.

And then the subtle brush of cloth against something.

"Obliviate."

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