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."