Bagsy Beetlehorn and the Corvid Trials (The Bagsy Chronicles 2)

Aesher Common

Aesher was a large county south of London. It was an hour and a half by train to Waterloo station, making it a superb location to live in, and was filled with far more trees than people.

Aesher was home to Aesher Common, a nature reserve of great scientific interest to the muggle world that discouraged the public from entering less they disturb the research, or so the cover story went. Bagsy Beetlehorn knew Aesher Common as nine hundred acres of wood home to some of the most fearsome creatures in England. Her family lived there, too.

One Asher Common was a large mansion-esque property situated in the middle of the woods and surrounded by dense swaths of trees. The towering, white walls of the building were masked by the countless mammoth windows the property boasted, which reflected the expanse of green grass the large lawn proudly displayed. Its modern appearance was an ugly clash with the small signs of the rickety old house it had been converted from.

Bagsy was in the garden, a new habit she'd picked up since she'd returned from her first year at Hogwarts. Bontie, her elder sister, was either working at the Ministry or locked in her room, Bagsy didn't know which. Her parents, Himble and Florentchia, were similarly locked away, working on their latest inventions with little time for their daughters.

Bagsy had only been back from Hogwarts for a few days and already she missed it with a deep, agonising ache. It didn't help that her birthday was a few days away and she was, for the first time, loathing the idea of spending it alone. Her usual approach to her birthday was to read, invent or doodle blueprints of magical items. Now, she realised she'd rather spend the day with the friends she'd made at Hogwarts.

Greenda would make a big fuss, Bagsy reckoned. She had shown herself to be an energetic, overbearing, but pleasant presence in Bagsy's first year and she could only imagine the whirlwind Greenda would be on the birthday of one of her friends. Mezrielda would perhaps be less sharp tongued than usual. Maybe she'd even give her a few tips on spellcasting.

Bagsy wouldn't know – she wouldn't be seeing either of them on her birthday.

To keep herself busy, and not go mad from loneliness, Bagsy had dedicated her time to work, as she usually did, except she'd taken to working outside as a way of curing the cooped up feeling that had been festering beneath her skin. It also helped put the events of her first year at Hogwarts from her mind. She still had so many questions about the blood eyed beast that she'd encountered, and she still clutched the invisible necklace Professor Fitzsimmons had given her every night. Fitzsimmons had said it would protect her from the beast's ability to spy on her mind and peer into her world. Bagsy hoped they were right.

She didn't have access to anything that would tell her about the blood eyed beast, and she wasn't about to go talking to her family, either. Bagsy decided she'd wait and speak to Mezrielda about it in person.

That day, Bagsy was testing out some broom modifications she was working on. She'd gone to Diagon Alley since her return and had happily purchased even more broom parts than she had last year at Christmas. Her intention was as it had been her previous term; to create the perfect brooms for the Hufflepuff team so they could have the best chance of winning the Quidditch cup.

'Woah!' Bagsy cried in surprise as the broom bucked her off suddenly. Bagsy landed with an oof in the soft grass and sat up, rubbing her left shoulder. The three deep scars the blood eyed beast's claws had left on it were still sore to the touch and didn't seem like they'd ever heal. 'What was that for?' she asked. The broom slowly descended, not answering her. At least the self-lowering modulator was working, she thought ruefully.

She still couldn't muster the ability to cast spells, so she had to craft components to fill the same safety functions charms would normally provide. Comfort was proving to be a difficult one. Usually a well-cast charm could turn a spikey, painful seat into a plush, armchair-like experience. Bagsy's attempt at attaching an actual armchair had been far less successful and she'd had to resign herself to the slight discomfort of her brooms.