As soon as she'd been able, Bagsy had sent her letter to Mezrielda. Sharply, she'd received a response from Crimson, whose usual hungry glare was replaced with something akin to respect as he held his lethal talons out, presenting the letter to her.
Mezrielda was on board – on the 25th of August they'd sneak to the WhiskWay station, ride the WhiskWay tube, and enjoy a whole week in Australia. Mezrielda was already applying through the appropriate Hogwarts channels to be exempt from Ministry testing due to her educational visit to Quolldron college.
Professor Fitzsimmons said they'd happily write me a letter of exemption. We return from Australia the day before school starts, so there won't be time for them to test me before the Winter Term begins. If I forget to mention that I won't be here from the 25th onwards before it's too late for them to move the test forward then, oops, that'll be too bad.
Now all they had to do was figure out where the WhiskWay station was, and how on earth they could get there. Mezrielda had continued to sneak into her family library to do research whilst Bagsy poked around all the books, files and tomes she had access to in the house in hopes of finding a map. Eventually, the living room piled high with open books, scattered pages, and sheets of paper strewn about, Bagsy admitted defeat. She was sitting cross legged, staring in fury at a map of Scotland that had no hint of a WhiskWay Station anywhere. Throwing it on the ground in frustration, she let out a growl and fell backwards onto her back. What even was a WhiskWay station?
In a moment of mad delirium, she moved her arms and legs, making a snow angle in the mess she'd filled the living room with. It occurred to her, not for the first time, that there was one location she had access to that she wasn't searching; Bontie's bedroom. It was an invasion of privacy, Bagsy knew that, but she also needed to find out where the WhiskWay was. While the rest of the house was filled with all sorts of odd books and stories, Bontie's room would most likely house more non-fiction, purposeful, books. If there was a map to the WhiskWay Station anywhere in the house, Bagsy reckoned it was there.
By lunch time she'd cleared away the mess she'd made downstairs and, swallowing her guilt, trudged up to her sister's room, accepting the familial crime she was about to commit. Bontie had locked her inside all summer, Bagsy justified in her head, it was only fair she got to explore as much of the house as she could.
Bontie's bedroom door creaked open and Bagsy tip-toed inside. It was as spacious as her own room but, unlike the rest of the house, Bontie's room had a carpet. Bagsy hadn't realised how nice it was to have something soft under her feet. Every other room was tiled or had wooden flooring, and rugs were a rare sight. Bontie's floor felt like a cloud in comparison.
Shelves lined the walls, filled with a manner of oddities. There were metal balls floating around each other in a pattern that reminded Bagsy of the solar system. One book was chained down to the wood of the shelf, burning with a constant, yet cold, flame that left no mark on the furniture. An hourglass with pink sand was constantly spinning on Bontie's desk, next to a row of quills that were floating in the air and independently sharpening their edges across a quill-sharpening block Bontie had left on the table.
Casting her eyes about, Bagsy's gaze settled on a small cabinet nestled below the desk. Unable to see any books or maps around the room, Bagsy reached for the cabinet, hoping to peer inside. She let out an annoyed groan when she found it was locked. Standing up, she put her hands on her hips and regarded the room around her. Sure, it was unlikely there would be a map in that one cabinet below the desk, but it was locked, and Bagsy was bored, and she'd checked everywhere else. Plus, in all honesty, she wanted to know what was in the locked cabinet; it had to be locked for a reason.
She set about the room, searching for a key. She checked beneath her sister's bed, in drawers, in the base of the candle sticks secured into the walls, and even the tiny gap between the top of the door and the door frame.
The key eluding her, Bagsy folded her arms and puzzled at where it could be. Her eyes found themselves landing on the flaming book chained to the shelf. The chains had a lock bolting them in place and, with a squint, Bagsy thought she could make something out in the lock. Hurrying over, she poked at the lock and found that, yes, there was a key inserted in there. Careful not to lodge it in place, she pried the key from the lock. Her heart rose in hope as she returned to the cabinet and tried to open it. When the lock sung a happy click, announcing its relinquishment of the cabinet's secrets, Bagsy fist bumped the air. 'Yes!' she whispered to herself, reaching inside, burning curiosity driving her hands as they pulled scrolls and books out. She didn't see anything that looked like a map and, with her elation deflating, she placed the last piece of paper back inside, defeated.
Except, as she tried to put the scroll in the lower shelf of the cabinet, she found it resisting. 'That's odd,' Bagsy murmured, with a furrowing of her brow. She crouched down, resting her weight on her arms as she inspected what could be blocking the scroll. The space had appeared tall enough, yet it refused to fit.
Something was fastened to bottom side of the shelf within the cabinet, out of sight. It was thin, but thick enough to get in the way of the scroll. Reaching in, Bagsy tried to move it. It wouldn't budge. Wondering what it was, Bagsy flipped over onto her back and wriggled her head into the cabinet and looked up at the thing which, in the darkness of the space, seemed to be a picture frame.
With a sound of consideration, Bagsy crawled back out and stood up, heading to her room to grab her muggle torch. Returning, she wriggled her way back into position, feeling like one of the worms she had been hoping to communicate with, and looked up. With a click, she turned her flickering muggle torch on, and pointed the beam at the picture.
Startling at what she saw, the torch slipped from her numb fingers and fell onto her nose. With a squeal of pain, Bagsy's hands flung to her nose, clutching it tightly. It didn't feel broken, and it wasn't bleeding, but the torch had a fair amount of weight and it certainly hadn't felt pleasant. Picking the flashing torch back up, she redirected its light onto the picture again, holding her nose with her other hand. Her own face was staring back at her, looking dour and bored. The photo was what she would describe as old-timey. She was looking at herself wearing Victoria clothing, with a Victorian hairstyle, and a Victorian London street displayed behind. She kept looking at the picture, wondering if the flickering torch light was playing tricks on her, but the longer she inspected it the more certain she was that it was herself in a Victorian setting. The issue was, Bagsy couldn't remember having her photo taken in such a way, something she reckoned would be very memorable.
An indignant hoot broke Bagsy from her perplexed staring and, in her sudden movement, she banged her head on the shelf above her. Rubbing her sore head and nose, muttering 'ows' to herself, she moved out of the cabinet and looked at Mezrielda's mammoth eagle owl, who was perched on Bontie's wooden chair and staring down at her with ominous eyes. The hungry glint had returned and, sprawled on the floor, having previously been hidden in a small, dark space, the feeling of being a mouse hunted by Crimson had never been stronger.
'Hi, Crimson,' she greeted him with a wary look as she closed and locked the cabinet, returning the key to the flaming book. Crimson huffily tossed a message to the floor at Bagsy's feet and fluffed up his feathers, clacking his beak as if he were starving. 'I'll get you some treats,' Bagsy wisely decided as she collected the letter from the floor. Crimson hooted in agreement, taking to the wing and following after her like a dark phantom, filling the corridor with looming shadows. Feeling as though she were being chased, Bagsy quickly procured some owl treats and gave Crimson as many as he wanted.
Eldritch looked at her accusingly.
She said to him, trying to sound reasonable, 'If you grew to the size of a bear and threatened to eat me you'd get just as many.' Eldritch didn't looked pleased, but he was so fluffy, round and cute that it was more cute than intimidating. Turning back to Crimson, who was feverishly devouring the treats, tearing them apart and dragging his talons over them as if they were live pray, was so starkly different from her own owl Bagsy was worried she'd get whiplash.
Sitting as far away from Crimson as she could, Bagsy turned her attention to Mezrielda's letter. It announced the good news; Mezrielda had found a series of maps of Wizarding locations in Britain. She'd sent one to Bagsy as well, as she'd found multiple. Drawn onto it was the route Mezrielda had planned for them. There was an underlake link at Mezrielda's house to the deep passages. They could take a boat from there directly to Brighton, where it would only be a short walk to the WhiskWay Station which, according to the map, was exactly where Brighton pier was located.
Sending back her agreement to the plan, and finalising their precise meeting times, Bagsy waved goodbye to the looming silhouette of Crimson. With a hopeful check, she saw that there was still Floo powder left in the pot by the mantel piece. She could travel to Vespite Manor and catch a boat with Mezrielda there. Mezrielda's family had a boat that could traverse the deep passages; Mezrielda claimed it had come with the house. She'd warned it wasn't in the best condition, even if it did still work, but that it would get the job done.
Bagsy kept quiet, and behaved perfectly, right up until the 25th of August.
'You're up early,' Bontie commented suspiciously as she poured herself some toad bean coffee. She squeezed an enchanted clay-like substance in the shape of a frog, which gleamed slimily and let out an indignant croak before barfing up a stream of steaming hot liquid into a mug. Bagsy crinkled her nose; toad bean coffee both tasted and looked disgusting, when you considered how it was made. The clay toad didn't look all too keen either, side-eying Bontie angrily.
'The birds woke me,' Bagsy offered lamely, her brain only catching that few birds chirped in Aesher Common before it was too late.
'Hmm.' Bontie swished her mug around and sipping her drink. 'I'm too tired to deal with you right now,' she decided, to Bagsy's relief, before moving towards the fireplace and grabbing a handful of floo powder. With a glance, Bagsy confirmed that there was still enough left over for her to travel to Mezrielda's. 'I'll see you later.'
'Yes, see you later,' Bagsy responded, adding in a whisper, 'In about a week.'
The second Bontie had disappeared in a burst of green flame, Bagsy was rushing up the creaky, wooden stairs to her room. She dived under her bed where she'd stowed a duffel bag filled with all she'd need for the trip and lots more. Just in case had been her catchphrase while packing.
'You best stay here,' Bagsy murmured to Eldritch, scratching him on the head. He leant into her petting, blinking his eyes happily. 'I've left enough food for you, but if you need anything just pester Bontie. If she can take care of her own owl, Mistius, then she can take care of you, too.' With a preening of his feathers at the hug Bagsy gave him, Eldritch watched her leave the room.
Back downstairs, and garbed in her light traveling robes, Bagsy steeled herself for what she was about to do. Nerves momentarily overcoming her, she dallied by checking, once again, she'd remembered everything. According to A Wizard Abroad, Australia could be fairly warm in late August, so Bagsy had spent the past few weeks stitching as many extra pockets into a thin, silk, blue robe. It used to trail behind her but, after a few tailoring tussles with the fabric, now only brushed the tips of her black shoes. It still swamped her arms, though, and Bagsy rolled the sleeves up a third time instead of grabbing the floo powder and, at last, committing to her plan.
With surprise, Bagsy saw Crimson swoop over to the front door and, with precise aim, shoot a letter through the circular hole for owl postage. Bagsy hurried over and unfurled it. Mezrielda's writing stared accusingly up at her.
Get on with it.
Scrunching the letter up and letting it fall to the floor, Bagsy stomped with renewed determination to the fireplace, grabbed her bag and a handful of floo powder, and called out her destination. Green flamed encircled her and, like a magician whisking a green sheet off of his vanishing cabinet, the flames swirled away from her view and revealed the gothic scene of Vespite Manor. The red and black of spiked armchairs, paintings narrowing their eyes suspiciously at her and fraying rugs filled her vision. One painting swiftly departed from its frame, walking off to the side, presumably to fetch someone.
'Wait here,' a woman with stretched out features spoke sharply from a towering portrait that was crooked and torn. The wallpaper around it was peeling and discoloured, like the painting itself. Bagsy nodded, taking a seat on one of the armchairs and finding herself swiftly covered in dust and cobwebs. Standing up quickly, she tried to dust herself off, her revulsion spreading uncomfortably across her face as she panicked over whether any spiders were now crawling in her hair.
It was early in the morning, as they wanted plenty of time to travel to Brighton Pier, and sunlight was leaving no room for the derelict building to hide as it shone through the holes in the ceilings and the cracks in the walls. Bagsy huddled against the draft – she was dressed for Australia, not the English coast.
Through a door that seemed too small and hunched for its frame, Mezrielda strolled casually, casting her hair over one shoulder and looking Bagsy up and down curtly. Spot, the Glint's family gargoyle, stalked along at her side. 'What are you wearing?' she asked, furrowing her brow and folding her arms.
Bagsy shrugged. 'I don't want to overheat,' she said simply.
'It's autumn,' Mezrielda reminded her. Mezrielda was wearing a long-sleeved black gown that looked very warm, and her hands were garbed in black gloves.
'Sure, here it is,' Bagsy agreed, to which her friend cast her a questioning glance. Bagsy was about to explain how the book she'd read claimed Australia had their winter during their summer when a flash of green filled the red and black room.
Bontie materialised in the fireplace, looking more furious than the flames that had summoned her. Bagsy stared at her, her eyes stretching wide.
With a snap of her arm, Bontie pointed her wand at Bagsy. 'Levicor-' she began to incant, only to have a ton of stone bowl her to the ground as Spot tackled her. Bagsy winced at the sight.
'We better hurry,' Mezrielda said, grabbing Bagsy's arm and pulling her along. Without protest, Bagsy followed, her bag jostling against her side as they ran.
'Mezrielda?' Dantura called curiously. 'Palid? Is everything okay?'
'Everything's fine, father!' Mezrielda called back. 'We're off to the WhiskWay I told you about. I'll see you in a weeks!'
'Right now? I see!' Dantura called back from somewhere else in the massive, barely standing manor. 'Have a great time.'
'Oh?' Palid's voice came from the other side of the building. 'You're leaving, darling? Is Bagsy with you? Hello, Bagsy, it's wonderful to have you here.'
'Not now, mother,' Mezrielda groaned as they reached the front door. Last time Bagsy had been here it was three times her height; now it was two. Baring a moment to wonder how she'd been so tiny, Bagsy moved ahead of Mezrielda and shoved the heavy door open.
'Bagsyllia!' Bontie called angrily from deeper within the Manor. 'Don't you dare!'
'Come on,' Mezrielda urged as Bagsy hesitated, glancing guiltily back into the dark corridor they'd just run through. Bagsy nodded, pushing her forming regrets down, and following her friend outside.
They rushed past the monotone trees, spikey shrubs and thorned weeds that sporadically surrounded Vespite Manor. Soon, the path began to slope steeply down as they wound their way to the coast. As pebbles shifted beneath Bagsy's feet, towering waves and a salt-water soaked quay awaited them. A tiny boat that had once been painted a joyful pattern, but now looked apt for a horror movie with how dull and chipped it had become, swayed uncertainly on its mooring.
'We don't have time to pause,' Mezrielda reminded her, throwing her luggage unceremoniously into the boat. She'd packed much lighter than Bagsy, with only a small handbag. Once she'd dealt with her own bag, she helped Bagsy lower her own duffle bag into the vessel. 'You first,' Mezrielda insisted. 'You're the clumsy one so it's wise for me to help you get on board.'
'I'm not that bad,' Bagsy defended herself, slipping on the wet wood and toppling face first into the boat. It shifted violently at the impact and Bagsy felt a stinging bruise spread across her face and the shoulder she'd landed on.
'Sorry, I didn't catch what you said,' Mezrielda scoffed, stepping in daintily, barely displacing the boat as she did. 'Could you repeat that?'
A third voice jolted them back to their situation. 'Get off that boat, Bagsy!' Bontie called, sounding concerned and desperate now.
Bagsy propped herself up and peered over the boat's side at the approaching Bontie. 'No!' she managed to force out, her voice paling in comparison to the wind rushing against the waves, cliff, and small boat. 'I want to go to Quolldron college! I'm so sick of being locked indoors!'
'It's for your own good,' Bontie insisted. 'You need to learn how to keep yourself safe – you're still a child and when things go wrong you need to remember that.' She was holding a wand to her throat and, when she stopped talking, she moved it to her ear. Bagsy reckoned that was how she'd heard her, and how Bagsy could hear her in response despite the distance.
'I've never had a choice in the moment!' Bagsy retorted hotly, sitting up and staring defiantly at her sister.
With a rock of the boat, Mezrielda's kicked the vessel away from its home on the quay, and began to guide it into the ocean and down into the under lake linked with Vespite Manor.
'Bagsyllia,' Bontie's voice was dark with vicious authority, 'you're not to leave, do you understand? I forbid it.'
Bagsy felt herself sneering. She wasn't sure what the feeling rushing through her was, but it was horribly unpleasant, and didn't feel like her at all. 'No,' she spat out, clenching her fists. 'You're not my mum!'
Bontie stopped in her tracks as if someone had punched her in the gut, letting her wand hang at her side. She'd only just reached the beach, but it was too late. Bagsy and Mezrielda's boat was sinking into the waves.
Bagsy caught one last glimpse of Bontie's face, her eyes filled with hurt, before the magician pulled his sheet of now ocean blue over the scene, and it all vanished.