Professor Fitzsimmons slept in a onesie. A onesie with cartoon moths on it. They also had a matching eye mask. If Bagsy weren't in the process of having a mild panic attack, she'd have laughed.
'Emese? What's this?' Fitzsimmons askes sleepily, descending from their hammock.
'The suits of armour, Dantes,' Starrett explained in a hushed voice, as if she could keep the conversation from Bagsy. 'They were attacking her.' Starrett indicated Bagsy with her still glowing wand, a handful of moths flittering around it. Fitzsimmons waved their hand and lanterns sprung to life around them. The moths dispersed, and the light illuminated the shock on Fitzsimmons face. It also revealed a fresh, deep wound on their cheek, and Bagsy held back a gasp. She'd had Defence Against the Dark Arts before lunch every Tuesday, and Fitzsimons hadn't had an injury then.
Mezrielda's warning of the need to be cautious of Fitzsimmons echoed in Bagsy's head. She shivered and, surprising herself, hid behind Starrett's nightgown, peeking out at Fitzsimmons, whose face had turned grave.
'What do you suggest?' Starrett asked.
Fitzsimmons frowned. 'We'll have to remove all of them from the school.'
Bagsy's heart leapt. 'Please don't kick me out!' she squeaked in a small voice, subconsciously clinging onto the fabric of Professor Starrett's night gown.
Starrett, looking annoyed, swept her gown out of Bagsy's hands. 'Keep your fingers off my clothes,' she hissed.
'Starrett,' Fitzsimmons said harshly. Starrett looked away from Bagsy with irritation but didn't insult her further. Fitzsimmons turned their kind face on Bagsy. Their eyes were uncomfortably small without their usual magnification, even if they were still larger than any eyes Bagsy had seen before. 'Bagsy, you won't be removed from Hogwarts. I only meant that the suits of armour will be removed from the premises, seeing as the psychic blocks we placed on them evidently aren't working.'
Bagsy let out a breath of relief.
'Stupid girl...' Starrett muttered under her breath.
'I'll escort Bagsy to her dorm,' Fitzsimmons said, slowly descending down the hole leading out of their room. Starrett motioned for Bagsy to go next. Hands shaking, Bagsy climbed down the ladder. Once the three of them were on the landing the glass ladder disappeared once more.
Starrett, with a baleful look at Bagsy and a grumble, walked in the opposite direction from them.
'Come,' Fitzsimmons said calmly, conjuring their mammoth pair of glasses out of thin air and neatly placing them over their eyes. 'I expect you're very tired.'
'Not anymore,' Bagsy answered honestly.
'That is understandable.' Fitzsimmons paused by a painting. The women within, who were usually sitting having tea, had night caps and blankets drawn over them. Fitzsimmons tapped the painting lightly.
One woman startled awake. 'Professor?' she said.
'Fetch Mistress Foncée,' Fitzsimmons instructed her. 'Inform her there is a mess that needs cleaning, and to bring the armour polish.' The painted woman nodded and disappeared out of her frame.
Fitzsimmons kept walking, their slippers, which they wore on top of their onesie, tapping softly on the stone floor. When they reached where it had happened Bagsy saw her belongings scattered on the ground. With a swish of their wand, Fitzsimmons organised the mess and passed Bagsy her bag. She thanked them and, when they reached the Hufflepuff dormitory, thanked them again. Fitzsimmons turned to leave.
'Professor?' Bagsy asked abruptly. Fitzsimmons paused and looked back at her. 'How do you and the other professors keep appearing and disappearing from the Hufflepuff common room? I never see you use the passage.' She gestured at the barrel that hid the way to the common room.
Fitzsimmons tapped their nose. 'That would be telling, Bagsyllia.' They turned and, with a soft pop, a moth took their place and fluttered down the corridor.
When Bagsy crawled into her four-poster bed in the girls' dormitory she hadn't bothered to change into her pyjamas. Instead, she lay in her robes, clutching the invisible necklace around her neck tightly, and trying her best not to see suits of armour in the darkness of the room.
When Bagsy awoke she felt colder than usual, as if her sheets were that bit too thin. She sat upright suddenly, looking around her. The black and white quilt Bontie had gifted her for her birthday was missing. Bagsy wasn't sure if it had been there when she'd gone to sleep, she'd been so distracted, but in the morning sunlight there was no mistaking it. Her quilt had been stolen.
Her eyes shot over to Primrose, who was tapping her wand gently against her lips, turning them red, whilst inspecting her face in a mirror as she got ready for the day. Bagsy felt an anger creeping up inside her and wanted nothing more than to yell at Primrose what she'd done with the quilt, but fear held her tongue.
Neve, who was tiredly packing her bags for the day's lessons, looked over at Bagsy, who was breathing heavily with rage. She quirked an eyebrow quizzically at her. Bagsy kicked her legs, showing only the white sheets on top of her, lacking a quilt. Neve's eyes narrowed in thought then widened, shooting straight to Primrose. Bagsy felt validated that it wasn't just her who's first thought was to blame the bully.
Neve grabbed Teresa's sleeve and gave it a few tugs before pointing at Bagsy, and her quilt-free bed. Teresa looked confused until Neve gestured subtly at Primrose. Teresa's face fell into a frown.
Teresa walked over to Primrose, crossing her arms. 'What did you do with Bagsy's quilt?'
Primrose startled, her lips turning a bright orange from a miscast make-up spell. She looked around at Teresa. 'I'm busy, leave me alone.' Primrose scowled, returning her attention to the mirror. Teresa grabbed the back of Primrose's nightie and pulled her up from her stool. 'Hey!' Primrose protested as Teresa held her in place by her shoulders, making use of her far greater height.
'Let's try this again. What did you do with Bagsy's quilt?'
Primrose glared past Teresa and at Bagsy. 'Spreading more lies about me, are you?' she hissed. Teresa gave her a shake. 'I didn't steal it!' Primrose snarled up at Teresa, shoving her freckled arms off her shoulders. 'Now leave me alone, soulless freak. I didn't realise gingers were such feral savages.' Teresa's eyes widened, and her fists clenched. 'Shoo. I have to fix the mess you've made.' Primrose spun back to her mirror, trying to fix the orange-ness that was her lips.
Rebekah, who gave Teresa a run for her money height wise, and easily had more muscle, stood up and walked between Primrose and her.
With a huff, Teresa turned and went back to her own bed, picking up her school bag and giving her bed a small kick of frustration. 'I tried,' Teresa said apologetically to Bagsy, who gave her a grateful half-smile, feeling bad that she'd been insulted on her behalf.
Bagsy informed Mezrielda what had happened the night before at breakfast, as well as the mysterious theft of her quilt.
Mezrielda groaned. 'We haven't even had a full week yet and this happens.'
Bagsy grumbled her agreement. 'I know! My favourite quilt!'
'Oh, forget that, Bagsy, I meant the nearly being killed by suits of armour part! You said they were trying to throw you into the shadow?' Bagsy nodded. 'And that those weird worms from your home warned you about shadows?' Bagsy nodded again. Mezrielda shook her head. 'Bagsy, I honestly think your life is in danger.'
Bagsy hung her head glumly. She'd been thinking much the same. 'We should tell a teacher.'
'They already know, though, don't they? You said Professor Starrett and Professor Fitzsimmons dealt with the suits of armour last night, correct?'
'Correct,' Bagsy echoed Mezrielda, spooning porridge into her mouth.
'Hey!' Primrose called from down the table. Mezrielda and Bagsy looked up from their hushed conversation. 'Are the seats at the Slytherin table not big enough for your massive ego or something?'
Mezrielda actually bared her teeth. Primrose and her friends fell about laughing, but when Mezrielda pointed her wand towards them, the silent threat made them go quiet, looking down at their food passively. Bagsy saw the tell-tale signs that Mezrielda was working hard to hold back a smirk.
'That shut her up,' Mezrielda boasted, keeping her wand in one hand and casually trained on Primrose whilst taking a second piece of toast from the Hufflepuffs breakfast platter with the other. She shot a deliberate look around at anyone else who might want to challenge her. No one did, so she took a harsh bite of the toast.
Bagsy noted that, unlike her parents, Mezrielda didn't have fangs. She felt relieved.
'The professors must already know something isn't right,' Mezrielda continued. 'What good is reminding them going to do? Besides risking them giving you a chaperone.' She sounded particularly disgusted on the last word.
Bagsy didn't think she'd mind a chaperone all that much. In fact, the idea sounded very nice to her. She certainly didn't want to walk the halls alone right now. Without saying a word, and not looking at Mezrielda, she slowly rose from her seat, as if Mezrielda's vision was based on movement.
Mezrielda looked up at Bagsy with a confused frown until realisation dawned on her. 'Bagsy, no, don't! Bagsy-' She tried to grasp onto the sleeve of Bagsy's robe but the material slipped between her finger. 'Yes, perfect, why not give the coward ideas, Mezrielda?' Mezrielda muttered regretfully to herself as Bagsy marched to the staff table.
Bagsy's feet tapped on the stone floor of the great hall, the candles floating above her needn't be lit when morning sunshine glistened through the glass windows of the room. Professor Starrett, Professor Kim and Professor Wattleseed were sitting at the table, eating their breakfast.
'Mmm! Try this!' Professor Kim exclaimed, holding her fork with blueberries and pancake out to Wattleseed. To Bagsy's horror, Wattleseed allowed Kim to feed it to him, and tried not to gag. Starrett, for once seeming in agreement with Bagsy, stood abruptly up and walked to the other end of the table before sitting back down. Wattleseed and Kim noticed and held back giggles as they talked.
Bagsy walked over to Professor Starrett. She may hate the woman, but right now she didn't want to go near the other two professors, and a bought of humiliation seemed better than interrupting whatever... (Kim was making train noises as she moved the food to Wattleseed's mouth) that was.
'Professor Starrett?' Bagsy said politely.
Professor Starrett, who had a nearly finished bowl of cereal in front of her, fixed her tired, morning eyes on her. 'I'm busy.'
'It's only... I was wondering if I could have a chaperone? I'm feeling a little scared after last night.'
'It may surprise you to hear that there are some things mummy and daddy's money can't buy. Extra time is one of them. In case you'd forgotten, Miss Beetlehorn, us teachers are here to teach. I have OWL students and I teach two separate NEWT classes, as well as every other student in year groups below. I barely have enough time for them as it is. There simply no room in the staff timetable to chaperone a hapless child.' Starrett flicked her wrist snappily at Bagsy. 'Now leave me to my breakfast in piece or it will be ten points from Hufflepuff.'
'Excuse me,' the silky voice of Mistress Foncée sounded. She had been polishing the glass of one of the windows, and now she folded the cloth she was holding neatly in her hands and glided over to them. 'But, I am not a teacher. I have the time to escort this young lady if it is needed.'
Bagsy had never been called a young lady before and resisted the urge to puff her chest out proudly.
'The castle needs to be cleaned,' Starrett snapped.
Mistress Foncée smiled as if she were talking to a child. 'I am very efficient. I would not offer if I could not deliver.' Foncée turned her enchanting lavender eyes to Bagsy. 'Would you feel safer with a humble cleaner to keep you company?'
Bagsy smiled. 'Yes, I think I would.'
'Then settled, it is,' Mistress Foncée declared in a quiet voice that seemed to rattle every bone in Professor Starrett's skinny body.
'Honestly,' Starrett hissed in frustration, standing and strutting from the hall, leaving the rest of her breakfast untouched, her heels clacking angrily on the stone floor, her red and gold robes sweeping behind her like a vengeful flame.
'May I see your timetable?' Foncée asked politely. She had to look down at Bagsy, who was absolutely tiny in comparison to her towering figure. Bagsy nodded and pulled out her timetable which she held up to Mistress Foncée, standing on tip toes so she could easily pluck it from her hand. With a sharp scan of the paper by her violet eyes, Foncée memorised the timetable and handed it back. 'Once you've finished Breakfast I shall escort you to Astronomy,' Foncée announced plainly before returning to her chores. Bagsy thanked her and rushed back to her seat.
Mezrielda was fuming.
'I just want to be on the safe side,' Bagsy explained as Mezrielda checked she had all her textbooks packed in a rather huffy fashion.
'I just want to be on the safe side,' Mezrielda intoned mockingly.
Bagsy scowled. 'Come on, Mezrielda, I'm just trying to act like a responsible adult.'
'How do you expect us to attend the Eagle Club with a chaperone looking over our shoulder, let alone research the blood eyed beast!'
Bagsy stalled. 'I hadn't thought about that.'
'I hadn't thought about that.'
'Stop repeating me.'
'Stop saying stupid things.' And with that, Mezrielda swept from the table with a swish of her black hair and marched from the hall in the same angry manner Professor Starrett had moments before. Feeling glum, Bagsy waited whilst Mistress Foncée finished buffing a candle stick before allowing herself to be led to the astronomy tower.
'Your friend seemed upset with you,' said Foncée, her hands clasped neatly in front of her.
'She doesn't think I should have asked for a chaperone,' Bagsy confided.
'I see. I suspect she isn't keen on a teacher hovering over her shoulder. I cannot blame her.'
'But you're not a teacher,' Bagsy reminded Mistress Foncée.
'Very perceptive. Nor am I a hoverer. Soon your friend shall barely notice me at all. I shall take you to your lessons for their commencement and return when they complete to escort you to your next. I shall watch over you during your free period on Friday morning and during your personal studies. After I have ensured your safe passage to the Hufflepuff common room in the evening, I shall leave you to your own devices. Do these terms sound agreeable to you?'
'Yes.' Bagsy nodded, a feeling of relief washing over her. She had the distinct impression no suits of armour would try any funny business with Mistress Foncée around. Mistress Foncée had a quiet, but fierce, aura.
Bagsy found that Wednesdays were really Arice Allthorn days. Bagsy had Astronomy in the morning with the Gryffindors, then a personal study with all the houses, and then double potions after lunch with the Gryffindors again. Even if Mistress Foncée hadn't been reading a dainty book during their personal study, sitting crossed legged behind Bagsy and Mezrielda, the duo wouldn't have been able to sneak off to the Eagle Club anyway. Arice had decided that personal studies on Wednesdays were the time to badger Bagsy about potions. It wasn't that she minded, because she didn't. Mezrielda, however, was constantly glaring at Arice in the hopes he'd take the hint and leave. She seemed to prefer to work in silence, or talk with Bagsy, not listen to Arice's questions.
Arice was prattling on nervously. 'So, what you're saying is, the sleeping draught needs five sprigs of lavender that you crush, and two measures of-'
'N-not quite...' Bagsy murmured sheepishly.
'Oh?' Arice asked, looking panicked.
'It needs just four sprigs, and you add them to the mortar... you don't crush them yet.'
'Right, okay. And why do you think Blythurst will ask us to brew this potion this lesson and not, say...' Arice frowned at the page he had opened in Magical Draughts and Potions. 'Wiggenweld potion?'
'One, because we only learn wiggenweld potion theoretically this year and, two, because the sleeping draught is listed first in the textbook. If you read it over, you'll see it's the easiest to brew in the whole book, so it would be the best potion to introduce us to second year brewing.'
Mezrielda paused her glaring to shoot Bagsy an impressed, and shocked, expression. Bagsy shot her a "yes, I am good at some things" look in return.
'But, Bagsy, Blythurst had us brew wiggenweld potion last year, remember? You accidentally spilt yours at the end of the lesson,' Arice reminded her. Mezrielda had gone back to glaring at Arice who'd finally noticed and was shuffling his chair away from her.
'Oh yeah...' Bagsy trailed off. She had brewed the potion herself no problem – she'd read about it before – but the rest of the class had floundered. If Blythurst was prepared to set first year students the task of brewing the wiggenweld potion, Bagsy realised she had no clue what he'd set them as second years. 'We better go over the basics again,' she fretted.
Mezrielda let out a frustrated groan and let her head hit the table.
It was only until after lunch, when Arice hung around to ask, again, which direction is the best to stir in to which Bagsy had answered, again, that it depended on the potion, that Arice and Bagsy bid Mezrielda goodbye and headed to their potions lesson.
When Blythurst wrote the instructions for brewing a sleeping draught Arice and Bagsy shared a relieved look. Arice worried the entire time he brewed the potion, whilst Bagsy held back contented hums and whistles, presenting a perfect potion at the end to the professor, and feeling ready to burst from the gruff, but satisfied, nod of approval he gave her. Even if her life was in danger, she still had Potions to enjoy, Bagsy consoled herself.