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

The Worm Farm

'You think it marked you?' Mezrielda checked. 'And that this necklace blocks the effect of the mark, namely, being able to see where you are and get into your mind?' Bagsy nodded. Mezrielda looked grim. Bagsy willed her to say something, how she was being foolish to think the blood eyed beast had marked her, but Mezrielda looked as quietly horrified as Bagsy felt. 'Let me look,' she murmured at last. 'Show me your shoulder.'

Bagsy, with a glance around, subtly pulled the robe down on her left shoulder. Mezrielda caught a glimpse of the white indents in Bagsy's arm and winced.

'They hurt when I touch them,' Bagsy added. 'They aren't fading. But, Teresa said that marking is a heavy magic process and that anything bigger than a pencil would be crushed under its own weight if it had the organs to mark its prey.'

Mezrielda pursed her lips. 'Let's hope she's right.'

It was two weeks before the Christmas holidays and Mezrielda was looking forward to not having to spend her evenings working the kitchens anymore. Bagsy, on the other hand, felt over worked and scared so that even the jolly Christmas decorations around Hogwarts couldn't cheer her up.

Bagsy's spells were as none-existent as ever, her fear was sky high and her piles of homework went higher still. She wasn't sleeping, was growing more frustrated with her failure to cast spells and was skittering about the castle like a mouse with a cat on its tail, jumping at the slightest of noises and avoiding shadows at all costs. At least, Bagsy assured herself, there hadn't been a Hufflepuff Quidditch match yet, so she'd avoided that stress, but then she would remember that the first Hufflepuff match was that weekend and feel even worse.

With dark bags under her eyes and feeling like the mindless shell-people they'd been learning about in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Bagsy looked off into the distance one morning, her porridge forgotten.

Mezrielda was moaning about her detentions, as usual. 'And the elves won't shut up about Horba! Apparently, he was the cleaner but he up and left without a word to anyone, which is why we now have the delightful Mistress Foncée.' Mezrielda frowned. 'It is pretty odd that Horba just disappeared, though...'

Bagsy, who barely heard a word, hummed her tired agreement.

'Bagsy?' Mezrielda asked in mild concern. Bagsy blinked slowly, not responding. Mezrielda gave Bagsy a poke, who started and began eating her porridge again, not looking at her. 'You're starting to worry me,' Mezrielda said gently. 'I think you should speak to a teacher if you're having this much trouble sleeping...' Bagsy nodded numbly but didn't move. With a sigh, Mezrielda stood up.

'Finally heading back to the Slytherin table, are we?' Primrose shot from down the table. Most of the Hufflepuffs had accepted Mezrielda's presence during all meals. Primrose and her friends, Rebekah and Logan, didn't want to let it go. A few Hufflepuffs murmured their ascent, clearly not used to it yet, either. Mezrielda wriggled her fingers and hissed, imitating snakes. Primrose, clearly thinking back to her snake-transfigured fingers, glared but said nothing more. Mezrielda walked away. Where to, Bagsy didn't know. She felt too tired to turn her head and look.

Owls poured into the great hall as the mail arrived. Teresa and Neve sat down opposite Bagsy as four large owls swooped down with a mammoth, square package. It was more like a crate, and its thud on the table woke Bagsy up with a start and she stared at it in surprise. Bagsy's small letter that Eldritch daintily dropped next to her seemed tiny in comparison. Even so, she gave Eldritch a pat on the head and a treat before he took off again. Primrose cast Eldritch a vengeful look – clearly, she hadn't forgotten his attack back in Diagon Alley before term had started.

'What's that?' Bagsy asked Teresa around a yawn, not noticing the massive "Happy Birthday Teresa!" scrawled along the side. The crate was plastered with a big, muggle looking label and the owls that had let go of the crate looked tired and flustered.