As the students settled for a meal of broccoli casserole, crispy corn fritters and stuffed courgette boats, decorations were raised around them. Glittering tinsel that pulsed different colours were pinned up columns and hung like spider webs between the floating candles. Looking up felt like viewing lake waves from below. It was a welcome distraction not just for Bagsy, but for all the students who might otherwise have been bothering her.
Overnight, the castle had transformed. Mammoth trees had appeared, decorated with bulbous baubles, animated toad ornaments and glinting orbs of yellow light that waned peacefully in and out of existence. Mezrielda hated it, as usual, and found the nook in the library as much a refuge from the décor as Bagsy found it a refuge from other students.
The final feast was approaching when Mezrielda received a letter from her parents. Paranoid, she spent a few hours seeing if there were any hidden codes before deciding it was a genuine letter.
'What does it say?' asked Bagsy for the tenth time. Up until then, Mezrielda had shooed her away, claiming she was doing important detective work.
'Mother and father say they expect me home for Christmas,' said Mezrielda. 'Which I'm not surprised by, given the Ministry have stopped sticking their nose in their business, so they feel more comfortable having me in the manor.' She shook her head bitterly. 'They did anticipate, however that I would want to invite you over for the holidays. They've told me that, as much as they adore you, and want to pass on their best wishes, they are too nervous about having you over after what happened last time.'
Bagsy looked guiltily down at her notebook, where she was pencilling ideas for a new invention: message-sending chalkboards. The last time she'd stayed at Vespite Manor Mr and Mrs Glint had been accused of kidnapping her. 'Of course. I completely understand.'
Mezrielda angrily folded the letter. 'I also understand, but that does not mean I have to like it.'
'I guess I'll be at Hogwarts alone, then,' Bagsy realised, sadly. There was no way she was going home if she could help it.
'No, that just won't do,' Mezrielda muttered, thinking. A look of frustrated resignation came over her face as an answer clearly occurred to her.
'What?' Bagsy prodded, but Mezrielda refused to reveal her plan.
Bagsy would find out at the final dinner before students were scheduled to leave. Tomorrow morning, all the students who stared and gossiped and bothered Bagsy would be gone. So, too, would Mezrielda, and everyone else whose company Bagsy had grown accustomed too. She'd miss Greenda filling her in on the latest quidditch tactics or explaining seventh-year healing principles to her.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, spending Christmas alone.
The hall was adorned with glimmering specs of light from the candles and the enchanted snow falling above their heads. It vanished before landed on their eyelashes or tongues, to some students' disappointment. Some older students seemed relieved. Apparently, half a decade ago, the enchanted snow had led to a particularly vicious snowball fight.
As Bagsy was enjoying the earthy taste of a nut-roast and cranberries, and laughing at Mezrielda who refused to eat the bread sauce as it was 'below her', another Slytherin approached the Hufflepuff table.
Mezrielda gave a curt nod at Tod Alden before, to Bagsy's surprise, shifting over to offer him her seat.
Tod shot them each a crooked smile and a salute. 'How are we doing over here at the worst table in the hall?'
Bagsy lightly shoved Tod. 'Watch it, or the 'worst' students will kick you back to Slytherin.'
'If you insist. I'm here because I've been informed of two things. First, that the article didn't go down well.'
Bagsy faltered. 'Well, no. It didn't. To be honest, I hated it.'
Tod tutted, shaking his head. 'I had a suspicion, but I figured Greenda would know best. Oh well. These things happen.'
'What was the other thing?'
'Why yes. A little bird told me. Or should I say magpie–'
Mezrielda glared. 'Can it, memory-boy.'
'Right, right,' Tod laughed slyly. 'You see, I heard you're alone at Christmas, and I was feeling a little bad about the whole article debacle, so I thought, 'hey, Tod, is there anything you could do?' and then I thought, 'Why, yes!' So, I am now privileged to inform you that I have official permission for you to reside at the Alden residence over Christmas!' Tod threw an arm over her shoulder. 'Best of all, you get to spend it with yours truly.'
Mezrielda was quietly snarling at her Yorkshire pudding, taking her frustration out on her cutlery instead of Tod.
'That sounds great!' Bagsy said as Tod released her, probably remembering she liked her personal space.
'Now that's all sorted, I shall retire back to the best table,' Tod announced, standing and dusting his hands as if they had germs on them.
Once he was gone, Mezrielda shuffled back to Bagsy and continued to eat.
'Thanks,' Bagsy said softly to her.
Mezrielda didn't remove her attention from her steamed carrots. 'I have no idea what you're talking about.' Then, after ten minutes, she added in a voice so quiet Bagsy almost missed it, 'I wasn't about to leave you here alone, was I?'
Bagsy couldn't hold back her smile, and barely stopped herself from hugging Mezrielda. She'd been wanting to do that a lot recently. She wondered what on earth she'd do without her best friend in the whole world.
The next morning, Bagsy sent a letter to Bontie informing her she would be remaining at Hogwarts for Christmas, and not to bother her. She was lying, of course, but Bontie had done plenty of that herself so Bagsy felt justified.
She cheerfully packed all her things. The only thing not in a trunk or an owl cage was a brown parcel for a very important person. She'd asked Greenda for some help with this, and only hoped it wouldn't be taken the wrong way.
In a flurry of chaos and confusion Bagsy, Mezrielda and Tod got out of a carriage and went to a compartment on the train. With folded arms and an impatiently tapping foot, Mezrielda's eyes tracked the suitcases like a hawk as Tod levitated them onto the overhead rack.
'What's gotten into her?' Tod murmured to Bagsy, looking concerned for his safety. 'She looks ready to bite my head off.'
'Maybe I will. Haven't you heard? I have blood-mouths for parents.'
'I did hear,' Tod admitted. 'Hamley wanted to write a story on it. He thought it might bring more utility to the paper. I said no, of course. I actually value my life.'
'You do?' Mezrielda asked sceptically as she sat in the best spot; the forward-facing window seat.
Tod shot Bagsy a look, as if to ask if Mezrielda was going to be like this the whole journey. Tutting, he settled himself on his own seat and, as if he wanted to block out their antics for the journey, threw his coat over his face and settled down to sleep.
While he was preoccupied with the thread of his garment, Bagsy produced a parcel and held it out to Mezrielda. She'd had to use multiple sheets of paper and lots of string to hold it in place, so it looked a bit like a crumpled-up heap of trash.
Mezrielda looked at it as if it were the fountain of youth. Gently, she took it from Bagsy's hands, and replaced it with her own package. A perfectly neat present now stared back up at Bagsy.
'Open yours first,' Bagsy urged, not wanting to alert Tod in case he'd feel left out. As the train began to shudder from the thrumming of its engine and hooting of its horn, the opening of the present was drowned out.
Paper cast aside, Mezrielda was looking at glinting objects Bagsy had noticed as she'd walked up and down Hogwarts' corridors, but it was what they were on top of that Bagsy was nervous about. Spells for Spoofs, a book highly recommended by Greenda for first-time spellcasters, was the main gift.
'Before you say anything,' Bagsy said quickly, seeing the look on Mezrielda's face. 'I've read through that myself. It goes over a small number of spells in an easy way. It breaks them down so that you can practise the different aspects of the spells one at a time before bringing it all together. It should be far less boring than casting a spell over and over until it works.'
'Thank you,' Mezrielda said tensely.
'You don't have to use it if you don't want to. In fact, this was dumb, give it back I'll get you something better–'
'No!' Mezrielda clutched the book to her chest. 'It may be of use every now and then.' She put it into her bag with great care.
Bagsy smiled. 'Good.' Then, it was Bagsy's turn, as she opened her own book-shaped package. 'Is it a broom?' she guessed, jokingly.
Mezrielda pursed her lips. 'Sometimes I wish we were better strangers,' she tried to say without a grin.
Bagsy laughed, before seeing the book Mezrielda had gifted her. She frowned. 'It's blank.'
'I put a cover over it. If you pull it off, you can read the title.'
Bagsy did so, and her frown deepened. 'Face Changers: A History of the most Adaptable,' she read out loud.
'It's a book on a highly interesting group of people,' said Mezrielda. 'I asked Wayne to send it over.'
'We've got to send him something back in return,' Bagsy lamented. 'The guy must think we think he's an owl.' Mezrielda raised her eyebrows in agreement. 'Either way, thank you for this. I'm sure it will be a fascinating read.'
Truth be told, Bagsy wasn't keen on it. She was more into inventions, potions, brooms and wand craft, or maybe even thaumathletics or cool plants. The history of a group of people she'd never heard of was hardly something she'd been craving, especially if they were creepy face changers. But if Mezrielda thought it was interesting and had gone to the effort of getting it for her, then Bagsy would consider reading it.
'Keep the sleeve on,' Mezrielda added. 'You wouldn't want the book to be damaged, now.' Not sure why that was a concern of Mezrielda's, but not really caring either, Bagsy folded the cover sleeve back over the book, hiding the title from view.
When the train arrived at Kings Cross Tod jerked awake, his skin pale and his pupils blow wide.
'It's alright,' Bagsy said instinctively.
Tod took a moment to breathe, before flicking his hair out of his eyes and forcing a smile. 'I know,' he said, before levitating his bags and disembarking. They had to wait for Bagsy to get her and Mezrielda's luggage before they could disembark after him.
On the platform, Bagsy waved bitter-sweetly at Mezrielda. 'See you in a few weeks.'
'Indeed.'
Bagsy laughed. 'Indeed? Alright, Mezrielda, indeed to you too, you dork.'
Just like that, Mezrielda moved to chase after her, Bagsy continuing to laugh.
Just as they were about to begin their ridiculous ritual, Mr Glint appeared at his daughter's side, and placed a hand on her shoulder. 'I'm sorry, sweetheart, but we should go,' he said, glancing nervously at the other parents, who were already casting the two pale, stretched out individuals worried glances, and ushering their children away.
Noticing the looks, Mezrielda's expression dampened. 'Bye, Bagsy,' she said as her parents picked up her bags and led her away.
Tod watched them leave, his eyes narrowed and his arms folded as if he was squaring up for a fight.
'What's up with you?' Bagsy asked.
'Nothing,' he said too quickly, before pushing his own luggage trolley along. 'Come on, we can get to my house via the floo network.'
'Your parents aren't picking you up?'
Tod shot her a look. 'Have yours ever picked you up?'
Bagsy blinked at him, hurt, before realising he might have felt the same way about her question and deciding to leave it there.
In a flash of green fire they were standing in Liberality. Four columns towered around them, and a gushing bonfire was roaring where they'd stepped through.
'Wow.' Bagsy turned and walking backward to take it in. She'd never seen such an extravagant floo station.
'It burns forever,' Tod explained. 'Rumour has it it's a descendent of the eternal flame. But it's just rumour.'
'I could believe it. They had eternally burning barbeques in Australia.'
Tod made a face as though he disapproved of such a frivolous use of an eternal flame.
As Bagsy turned back around she saw the gated community of Liberality. She recalled, with brief surprise, that she'd seen it once before; in Primrose's memories. It was a small street containing six houses, but each house was so large it could hold the entirety of the student body of Hogwarts.
The walked past the terra-cotta walled and turquoise roofed Victorian house of the Vinskis, before turning onto the massive front garden of a barn conversion with a plethora of extensions. Their feet crunched over a gravelled path as they traversed towards the main door, which was haloed by an impressively up-kept hedge that seemed to be balancing in impossible shapes.
'As the family grows, so does the house,' said Tod. 'All the main Aldens have their own wing to live in and a communal area in the centre to convene. It takes years to ensure the most perfect and period accurate construction each time,' he added, sounding proud.
Bagsy peered at the stonework as Tod pressed his wand tip to the door. The door knob animated and stared sceptically at his wand, before begrudgingly nodding and letting the entrance open. As they made their way through the soft carpeted, white walled and elegantly decorated house, Tod pointed out that some of the beams were, in fact, real chocolate.
'Enchanted so it doesn't melt, of course,' Tod said. 'Not all of them are chocolate, though, and don't bother asking, I won't tell you which is which. If I had to spend my childhood eating splinters to find out, you can manage one Christmas.'
Bagsy laughed quietly at that.
'We Alden's are a little... peculiar. Once you've unpacked we'll need to go over the rules,' Tod added as they walked through a tight passageway. One side opened out and Bagsy found herself looking down onto a large living space filled with squishy blue armchairs, dark oak tables, and a smouldering fireplace that made the room smell of smores.
'Rules?'
The living room moved out of sight and they were back in a tight corridor.
'Yes.'
They were making their way through a grand room when Bagsy paused, noticing amongst the rural décor a white sheet hanging over a section of wall. Curiously, she reached to lift it.
'Rule one,' Tod's voice was right next to her ear, and Bagsy leapt in surprise. He pushed the sheet back down and pulled Bagsy away from it. 'Don't be nosy.'
'Sorry,' Bagsy said sheepishly.
'I know that will be a challenge. Nosiness comes so naturally to you.' He fixed her with a hard stare. 'I trust you'll be able to restrain yourself.'
'Yeah.' Bagsy nodded firmly.
Tod showed her to her room. It was small compared to the rest of the house, crammed by a massive bed and a wardrobe squeezed into the corner.
'If you ask the bed nicely it can shrink to a single,' said Tod. 'But it won't want to. Unpack, I'll be back in a bit. Need to go and let my family know I'm home.' With that, Tod was gone.
Bagsy put her bags on the bed, which whined about how heavy they were. Eldritch fluttered his wings in his cage in alarm at the talking furniture.
'Sorry,' Bagsy said to the bed. 'Maybe if you shrank to a smaller size I could have enough space to open the wardrobe and put my bags in there?'
'And compromise my stunning beauty? I think not,' the bed huffed, and expanded more, if anything.
Bagsy ended up putting her bags in the hallway as she got her things out. Eventually, with great care and a lot of effort, she managed to, one by one, squeeze her soft items into the wardrobe. Things like her toolbox simply wouldn't fit.
She finished and was sitting on the floor outside, talking with Eldritch and feeding him owl treats, when Tod sauntered back.
'All checked in,' he announced, then, with a frown, he kicked Bagsy's bedroom door open.
'Ow!' the bed complained, the door hitting the frame.
'Shrink up you whinging sponge,' he said. With bitter mutterings, the bed shrunk to a single. 'And stay quiet for the rest of the holiday, or I'll have you out with the next lot to the tip.' Turning back to Bagsy, Tod shook his head. 'Some furniture just don't know how to behave.' He picked her toolbox off the floor. 'Mum and dad said you could use the room next door as a work shop. I have a fair number of chores I need to do, so it'll be something to keep you occupied while I'm gone.'
Bagsy allowed herself to be led into the next room, which felt much bigger without an expanding bed.
'I'll be back this evening for dinner. Try to stay in this room until then, and if you want anything just clap your hands three times and say what it is. It'll appear on the table soon enough.' As abruptly as before, Tod turned and left, but not before leaving the toolbox on the workbench.
There was a wooden table with benches on either side, so she set up shop there and got to work, deciding to focus on her message-sending chalk board invention, or as she had now dubbed them, talk-boards. Occasionally, she had seen a chalk board appear in the Eagle Club room, which she intended to link the talk-boards with. Obviously, she was unable to advance that part of the invention whilst she was at the Alden estate, but that didn't stop her linking the talk-boards to each other.
After an hour or so of work, she was feeling a little thirsty. Not sure if it would work or not, Bagsy clapped her hands three times. 'Water!' she said. Sure enough, a few seconds later, a glass of water appeared on the table. Her curiosity spurred on, she walked over to one of the wooden beams and placed her hand on it. It felt like wood, but then, it was enchanted to do so. Cautiously, she took a bite, and found nothing but hard wood press against her teeth. 'Yuck,' she complained, wiping her tongue clean of splinters. The beam next to it, though, did look like chocolate. Briefly wondering if Tod had made the whole thing up to mess with her, Bagsy took a bite of that one, too. Unlike the first, this one broke under her teeth, leaving her with delicious chocolate to eat. As she munched, the beam grew back, looking and feeling as much like an ordinary beam as any of the other ones.
Brow furrowed, and still eating her chocolate, Bagsy fetched her book, Beyond the Fundamentals: What Makes Potions, and turned to the page on the five exceptions to Gamps law of elemental transfiguration. The book explained that potions were an exception to the law, as you couldn't transfigure water into pompion potion, for instance. Other listed exemptions were certain mental states, money, souls and, what Bagsy had been looking for, food.
She glanced back at the beam again. It had grown back the chocolate she'd bitten off, but it was impossible to create food from nothing, so there had to be a pile of chocolate somewhere from which the beams summoned. Bagsy wanted to go look for this stock pile of chocolate, but Tod had only just specified to her that day that she was not to be nosy.
With a sigh, she got back to her work.
Christmas at the Alden's was strange. Tod himself wasn't what made it peculiar. When he was around, he'd hang out with Bagsy, reading the latest book of Vampire Affairs, perusing textbooks or penning ideas for the school paper. Often, he'd simply watch Bagsy's work with interest, occasionally asking her questions and humming in interest at the answers. The best way Bagsy could describe how Tod spent his time was lazily. If he wasn't reclined in a chair in the strangest way possible, yet still looking like he could fall asleep at the drop of a hat, he was clapping his hands three times and asking for things so that he wouldn't have to get them himself.
When, the day before Christmas, Tod clapped his hands and asked for the garden pillow on one of the metal seats one over for him to be moved to his lap, Bagsy put down her crammed notebook and shot him a look.
'What?' said Tod. 'If I don't have to move I won't.' He grinned crookedly. 'You're just jealous you didn't get to grow up in the lap of luxury.'
They were in a greenhouse in the Alden's many arced back garden. It was snowy and cold outside, but in the greenhouse only warm sunlight reached them.
Bagsy said, 'Actually, I did grow up in luxury. No one seems to realise the Beetlehorns are rich.'
Tod quirked an eyebrow. 'Proud of it then?'
'No,' Bagsy said, horrified. 'I hate it. Every time I see someone with worn down robes or second-hand books it makes me feel guilty for everything I have. It's not fair my family has so much when other people have so little. It's not like I did anything to deserve it, either, besides being born into it.'
Tod shrugged. 'I couldn't care less. If my back's being scratched that's all that matters.'
'What's doing all this, anyway?' Bagsy asked, gesturing at the pillow and the food that could appear or disappear with three claps.
'House elves,' Tod explained. 'There's a system of caves below the complex. The elves get alerts when we clap our hands three times and do their job in response.'
'You employ elves like Hogwarts, then?'
Tod nearly laughed. 'Employ? No. Unlike at Hogwarts, these are proper house elves.'
Bagsy felt like the snow outside had suddenly rushed into the greenhouse. Slowly, she looked down at the ground.
'It's how things are meant to be,' Tod insisted, seeing her expression as he kicked his feet out and rested them on the garden table, joyously soaking in the winter sun. 'And it's how they've always been. It's nothing to worry about.'
Bagsy silently vowed never to clap three times again.
When Tod wasn't lounging in peculiar positions he was missing. Most of the day Bagsy was alone while Tod attended to chores his family allocated him. He'd informed Bagsy that, regretfully, he couldn't tell her what they were.
'Just know that since I lost my power these chores have become a lot harder to complete,' he'd said ominously, looking around himself to check no one could be listening in.
Even odder than Tod's almost constant chores was the fact that Bagsy never met his parents. She knew they were in the house. She heard their footsteps, saw imprints where someone had been sitting in armchairs, and there were uncleaned dishes left in the sink. Sometimes she caught a wisp of brown hair disappearing around a corner, or a glimpse of a veiled face through the windows when she was sitting outside, or a door closing as she walked down a corridor, but Tod's parents seemed determined to stay away from her. When asked, Tod had confirmed her suspicions.
'To tell you the truth my parents don't want you to know what they look like.'
Bagsy's face scrunched up in confusion. 'Why?'
'We Aldens are a secretive bunch,' was all Tod had offered in response.
Bagsy did see the Aldens' eldest son, Magnus, a handful of times. He was very similar to Tod in some ways. Tall, dark haired and with a confident, crooked smile. Unlike Tod he was less lean, and becoming muscly as he grew.
'How are you doing, Bagzy Bee,' he greeted one morning as Bagsy was fixing herself breakfast. Tod was away on a chore.
'Hello, Magnus,' she said. 'Happy Christmas!' she added, for that morning was Christmas morning. Bagsy could tell because, overnight, the house had sprung to life with decorations that had appeared from seemingly nowhere. Bagsy grimly suspected it was the house elves.
'I've got to say your quidditch has really improved over the years,' Magnus continued, pilling his plate high with pancakes that were presented on the kitchen island, glazed with maple syrup and topped with berries.
'It has?'
'Absolutely. I wouldn't be surprised if you're made captain at some point.'
Bagsy's jaw fell open. She felt flattered, but terrified. She'd hate nothing more than being captain, in all honesty.
'You do remember the time you blocked a goal using a bludger, right?' Magnus checked. 'Simply great stuff.'
'Well, I... it was more of a fluke, really...'
'Still. Anyway, where's my brother got to? Surely he intends to join us for Christmas morning?'
'He said he had to go out on a chore.'
Magnus paused, his face paled, and then he slammed his plate down on the island before rushing off. He said a very bad word as he hurried off. 'I completely forgot! He's going to kill me!'
Bagsy would see Tod later on.
'Sorry about missing breakfast,' Tod said as they'd settled down in one of the large living areas. 'Also, I hope you haven't got me anything for Christmas.'
Bagsy pushed the wrapped quill and ink set she'd made for him, complete with a template for laying out articles in a classical newspaper style, behind the chair. 'Nope!' she squeaked. 'Of course not.'
'Good. I haven't had time to get you something. At least now I don't have to feel bad about it.'
'Nope!' Bagsy laughed awkwardly. 'Don't feel bad about it at all!'
Tod sighed. 'What did you get me?'
Guiltily, Bagsy presented him with the gift. Tod inspected it, running his fingers over the soft, fake feather of the quill Bagsy had crafted from fabric and metal. Next, he peered at the newspaper template. 'This is really thoughtful,' he said. 'Aldens don't really do gifts. This might be my first Christmas present.'
'Beetlehorns are the same,' Bagsy said. 'At Christmas my parents – I mean, Florentchia and Himble – used to just give me and my sister – I mean, Bontie – money to go and buy ourselves things. I used to not mind, but...'
'It's not the same as receiving something picked specifically for you,' Tod finished, looking enamoured at his gift as if it held the answers to all of his problems. 'You like board games, right? I see you and Mezrielda playing them often.'
'It's a card game, but it's the same kind of thing.'
'Your gift can be a bunch of board games, then,' Tod decided. 'Not to keep, I mean. My parents wouldn't like it if I gave away all their stuff. But we can spend the day playing them.'
And so they did. Tod was frightfully good at a fair few of them but, for once, Bagsy had a chance of winning. Tod may understand the games, and have a few good strategies, but he didn't have the terrifying future-vision Mezrielda seemed to have any time they played. There was no hope winning against Mezrielda but at least against Tod Bagsy could secure a few victories.
They played board games about giants and mountains, getting the witch's hat out of goop, and figuring out the password for a riddle. There was a final game, about solving crimes, that made Tod pause.
'What?' Bagsy asked.
Tod stood up. 'My parents aren't in the house right now. They're away on business.'
'At Christmas?'
'Do your parents take a day off at Christmas?'
'No.'
'I think it's about time I had a look at the crime scene. Now that I've got you with me it will perhaps be a tad more... safe.'
'Crime scene?'
Pulling on a coat he'd taken from a varnished coat rack and wrapping a scarf around his neck, Tod nodded. He grabbed a second coat and hurled it at Bagsy. 'That one has lots of pockets. You'll like it.'
Tod was right – there weren't as many pockets as her school robe, but there were enough for most of her usual equipment.
Booted up in their warmest gear, they walked to the Alden koi pond, which was shimmering blue from the enchantment that Tod said kept it warm through winter. He summoned the Alden boat to the surface and stepped onto it, helping Bagsy in after.
Bagsy said, 'Where are we going?'
'I told you,' said Tod, setting the boat off. It descended into the water, a bubble forming around it before it dropped into the underlake below. Bagsy's hand flung out, gripping the side in shock even if she had already gone through this process multiple times.
Tod said, 'The crime scene.' He pointed at his mouth where earlier that year his tongue had been cut out.
'Oh...' Dread grew in her belly.
They sailed in silence, the cold of the underlake creeping through their many layers to their skin. The dripping of water onto the still lake was what really sent chills up Bagsy's spine, who kept seeing glowing lilac eyes in the corner of her vision.
Tod brought them to a stop. With a splash, he stepped off the boat and stood in the shallow water. 'Let's see what we can find.' His breath frosted in the air. 'Lumos,' he cast, his wand lighting up the dark space.
'Lumos,' Bagsy joked as she clicked on her muggle torch, the light spluttering on and off in the darkness. After the incident with the Nuckelavee last year, her torch had been with her belongings when she'd woken up. The same hadn't been the case for her weather machine, sadly, which she supposed was still lost somewhere in the forbidden forest. She certainly wasn't going back in there to look for it.
By the stuttering beam of her torch, Bagsy moved in the direction Tod pointed, and began searching. 'What exactly are you hoping to find?'
'Anything. I need to know who did this.' Tod let out an annoyed grunt. 'If I could tell my parents they could get time scribes down here, no problem. Then, at least, we could get an accurate idea of the individual's height and build.'
'Time scribes. I recognise that term. What are they?'
'A group of seers who work for the Ministry,' said Tod, voice echoing as his steps, accompanied by the sploshing of water, moved away from Bagsy. 'They look at invisible strings in the air and use their vibrations to see what happened in the past. It's not the most accurate work, and they can't see everything, but with enough time and resources they can occasionally glimpse very clear events.'
'Strings? Vibrations? What does that mean?'
'You think I know?' Tod shot back. 'I'm just repeating what I've read–' his voice cut off and Bagsy turned her torch in his direction. In its flickering light she saw him a distance away, standing still with his back to her and his head hunched forwards.
'Tod?' Bagsy said fearfully, her hand instinctively moving to where her spell-sponge gloves were stowed.
Tod knelt down and reached into the water. 'I found something.'
Water spraying as she moved, Bagsy ran over. 'What?'
Tod's wand was gripped by his teeth in his mouth as he, incredibly gently, lifted something out of the water in his cupped hands. It was white and see-through, and tried to slip through the cracks of his fingers as the water moved away. Eventually, it lay flattened against his palms.
'What is it?' Bagsy aimed her torch straight at it.
'That flicker is incredibly off-putting,' Tod managed to say around his wand.
'Sorry.' Bagsy fumbled to aim the torch away.
Moving the white thing to one hand, Tod grabbed his wand out of his mouth and aimed the end at the it. 'I have no idea what it is.'
'I do,' Bagsy said suddenly. 'It's a receipt.'
'A receipt?'
'Yes. Its waterlogged so all the words are smudged and gone, but the shape is the same. And paper gets all mushy when it's in water for a long time.' Bagsy leant closely, peering at it. 'It must have some water-resistant charm on it to have lasted this long.'
'That's assuming it came from...' Tod's voice fell away as the implication hit both of them.
Was this receipt dropped by the person who'd cut off Tod's tongue?
'We need to get this back,' Bagsy said, holding her hands out. 'Give it to me. I'll carry it while you steer.'
'Sure.'
With great care, they transported their only piece of evidence back to the Alden house. With cautious steps so as not to fall, Bagsy returned the mushy paper to the room she'd been using as a work shop. 'Tod,' she said, looking at the mush she'd carefully placed into a glass dish. 'Do you have a library?'
'Yes. Why?'
Bagsy smiled and turned slowly to look at him. 'Because I need to get to work.'