Mezrielda was in a forest with a blood-red sky and black trees like leafy tombstones. Small black creatures sat hidden amongst the foliage, watching her with beady eyes. Mezrielda recognised crows and ravens amongst their number, as well as other black coloured birds.
Corvids.
'Do you want something from me?' she asked, holding her wand out as if that would do anything.
The birds were silent as they watched her. The air was dry in Mezrielda's throat, and the crunch of the soil below her feet disconcerting in the near perfect silence. Why had she stepped through the shadows? It had been a foolish idea.
She walked for a while, finding that no matter where she went, or how long she went there for, there were corvids cushioned between the leaves, their prying eyes following her every movement. Mezrielda wondered if they'd been sitting here since Mistress Foncée had died, waiting in the ominous quiet of the red-lit wood.
Mezrielda reached a clearing, the dirt beneath her feet changing to overgrown cobblestone.
That was when she heard the voices.
'You have something we want,' they said, over and over.
'Something we want...'
'Something we want...'
'Yes, yes, something we want...'
Scanning the trees, trying to find the speakers, Mezrielda narrowed her eyes. The corners of her vision told her a crow or a raven was moving its beak, but when her gaze slid onto them they were as still as stone.
'And we,' a voice announced, closer this time, 'have something you need...'
'What do you have?' Mezrielda held her wand tightly.
'We can offer a gift...'
'A gift? What sort of gift? And why? What do you ask in return?'
'A gift of your choosing,' the voices murmured. 'A gift that destroys, or a gift that reforms, or a gift that returns... the choice is yours.'
'Can you return people?'
The birds clacked their beaks, as if laughing. 'No,' they said. 'People cannot be destroyed or reformed or returned, but many other things can.'
For the briefest of moments, Mezrielda thought of her memories. If she could have the memories of her spells returned this entire operation would become a breeze. 'What can I offer you, then?'
There was a pause, and one of the birds fluttered down to land in the centre of the clearing, a few paces from her. Unlike the crows and the ravens, this bird had shapes of white and hues of blue and purple dancing on its feathers.
A magpie.
'We want you,' the birds said in a soft tone that ruffled the leaves.
It struck Mezrielda, then, that magpies were corvids.
'Show us,' the birds murmured. 'Show us... show us you belong... show us you were destined to rule...'
Mezrielda sucked in a breath. So, this was what they wanted. A replacement for Cora Foncée. 'You mean for me to be your new queen? Is this your wish?' She should have realised sooner. Corvids had been following her and giving her odd looks all year. She felt like a blithering idiot.
'There is so much power here, so much stored power in the corvid family,' a voice next to her ear whispered.
She spun, expecting to see Foncée looming over her, or a bird fluttering away, but found only air.
'It needs a conduit... It needs direction... it needs a shepherd...' The voice was at her other ear now, but Mezrielda resisted the urge to check for the owner. She knew she wouldn't find one. 'Show us...' it breathed, its voice hoarse with anticipation now. 'Show us you're the one we've longed for...'
The hairs on Mezrielda's arms stood up. She could feel energy crackling through the air like flames. Was that the power they spoke of? She looked back at the magpie staring expectantly at her.
She hadn't shifted for a long time. The last occasion had been in her desperate attempts to escape the Nuckelavee. Mezrielda was scared, in truth. Scared that somehow, as the time had gone by and the memories of her spells hadn't returned, that her ability to become a bird would leave her too. So long as she didn't shift, she'd never know, but she couldn't avoid it any longer.
Mezrielda calmed her mind. Shifting was like pulling on a coat. It was stepping into a warm bath or wrapping oneself in a soft towel.
With a swish of her hair, Mezrielda shrunk and, with an uncertain flutter, landed on her talons.
The surrounding birds spread their wings and cawed at the crimson sky.
'It is done,' they cried, over and over. Mezrielda turned back into a human, eyes darting from side to side, nervous in the noise.
Eventually, the avians calmed, returning their beady eyes to her. 'To finalise the contract you must choose a gift. Something to be destroyed, or something to be reformed, or something to be returned... you may only choose one, so think well on this monumental decision...'
Mezrielda, sharp tongue ready to respond, hesitated. The obvious answer was to ask for the memories of her spells back. Her spells would turn this impossible mission into an easy task.
But then, hadn't that been exactly what she'd thought about breaking Winifred and Robin out of the Ministry's ship? She'd trusted her abilities so strongly she'd never considered for a second that a person existed, young or grown, that could defeat her but even at the height of her abilities Mr Mortem had taken her memories away.
Mezrielda looked down at the wand in her hand – the wand that felt foreign to her and resisted what she asked of it. She could relearn her spells. Now that she was actually trying, it may take her a year, or a bit longer, to regain all the knowledge she'd had before, but she could do it. What she could never do was bring her old wand back.
'Reform my wand and give it to me,' she said. 'On its acceptance, I will become your queen.'
The birds exchanged looks, fluffing their feathers and tilting their heads. 'It is agreed,' they murmured, the energy Mezrielda had felt earlier rising in a crescendo. It crackled with electricity so that she was concerned her hair might become the tangled mess it had briefly been in her first year.
The ground, the trees, and even the birds crumbled like a collapsing building into darkness, and Mezrielda found herself hovering in a void of black. In the pitch dark, a pin prick of light glimmered in the distance. Mezrielda, finding herself now a magpie, flapped towards it.
In a tangle of shifting limbs, she stumbled out of the shadow, and back into the Eagle Club room. She fell ungracefully onto the floor as a human. With a moan of pain, she pushed herself onto her feet, taking a second to dust herself off and neaten her hair.
Her eyes instantly fixed on the white wand lying on the floor at her feet.
Pulse racing, Mezrielda leant down and picked it up, rolling it in her hands. At the touch of the aged wood against her palm she felt a jolt of power surge down her arms and into her body, and there was a brilliant flash of green from her eyes.
The corvid family was a collective of individuals who shared their power so they may be stronger. The ruler was the guider of that power, and the home of the majority of its wealth.
Mezrielda felt that truth now as she pointed her wand at the wall on the other side of the room. 'Rocushift,' she breathed, as if it was an afterthought. The rock rushed forward, forming a new wall that split the room in half. Mezrielda swished her wand, smiling at the feel of its familiar weight in her hand.
Like a wave of liquid, the rock rushed around the room, looping over itself before rushing back to its place at her command, the room returning to normal.
She smiled at her wand. 'We might have a chance now.'
Mezrielda contacted the group for a meeting the following morning.
The Eagle Club room felt a lot smaller when there were other people in it. It was almost like back when the Ravenclaws had used it for duelling practise. Mezrielda grimaced at the memory – it had been nice, having duelling partners. She'd missed it sorely in her third year but now, even with her old wand back and some spells relearnt, she knew she'd stand no chance against Winifred. If she ever met her again and they had a rematch, she desperately didn't want to lose. It would hurt her pride too much.
'We should have a name,' Jon said. 'You know, like, a team name.'
'Oh!' Itsuki piped up. 'And code names! They always have code names in the books.'
'We'll be using the initials of our first names,' Mezrielda clarified. 'It's simpler and means we won't have to waste precious seconds figuring out who's talking to who.'
Greenda seemed confused at that. 'Why not just use our full names?'
Mezrielda handed out the talk-boards Bagsy had invented. 'Because we'll be writing to each other, and two letters are a lot quicker to write than a name.'
The gathered students frowned down at the boards.
Jon turned his upside down and shook it. 'What does it do?'
Mezrielda said, 'You write on one and the writing appears on the others.' She drew a sad face on her own board and watched as the others peered down at theirs. Frowny faces appeared for them all to read.
'Cool,' Teresa breathed.
Mezrielda tapped the talk-board importantly. 'Keep these on you and keep a track of what I write. It's how we'll stay co-ordinated and adapt in case of separation during the rescue. Greenda, why don't you go first?'
They'd all pulled their chairs to be sitting in a circle around the chalkboard.
Greenda stood up and, using a quick spell, stuck some papers to the board. 'The origins of healing crystals and their methodology can be traced back to–'
'Succinctly, if you can,' Mezrielda cut in sharply.
Greenda cringed. 'Sure. These are the crystals we'll be using should any fighting break out. They inhibit healing. There's no guarantee they'll work, but I've yet to see them fail. To activate them you throw them onto the ground. They'll shatter and the dust will go into the air. That's it. Nice and simple.' Greenda collected her papers and sat back down, looking as if she'd planned a lot more to say on the history of the crystals.
Teresa was next. She stood up and pinned her own selection of images to the board. 'This is what a catercolumn looks like, and this is a brick-tick. The brick-ticks are simple. If you keep some salt on your person they'll give you a wide birth, and if they get in your way just rub some salt on them and they'll shrivel up and jog on. The real issue...' She tapped her wand onto the image of the looming catercolumn, that looked more like a giant snake with ferocious rows of sharp teeth. 'Are sneaky caters. These creatures will hate us the second they realise we're breaking in – they're lethally territorial. Their skin is rock hard and magic repellent and their only weak spot,' she moved her wand to the creature's mouth, 'is guarded by rows of razor-sharp teeth.'
'What's your recommendation?' Mezrielda asked.
'I'm going to bring some baby catercolumns with us,' said Teresa. 'I can keep the adults distracted using the young. Catercolumns think baby catercolumns are adorable and can't resist playing with them. It's how the Greeks first domesticated them.'
'Good.' Mezrielda dipped her head approvingly as Teresa sat back down. Mezrielda stood next. 'There may be gargoyles in the castle. If we encounter them, either leave them to me or, if that's not possible...' She fixed them all with serious looks. 'Run.'
Teresa was nodding sagely. 'Yeah. Never tussle with a gargoyle.'
'They should be gone,' Mezrielda added. 'They were only hired for the ball, but all the same, I feel you should be warned.' She sat back now, and gestured at Emmeline, who was the final person to speak.
Emmeline rose, tossing her blonde locks over a shoulder. 'I can get us the invitations but there's a condition.'
Mezrielda narrowed her eyes. 'What?'
'Primrose wants to come too.'
Teresa looked outraged. 'No way. We can't trust her.'
Jon nodded his head, exchanging a look with Itsuki. He addressed Mezrielda, 'If you're telling the truth and the acting troupe really are dangerous and have kidnapped Bagsy, we can't risk a loose cannon like Primrose messing it up.'
'I say we can trust her,' Emmeline retorted hotly.
Allowing a moment for the others to voice their concerns, Mezrielda folded her arms and waited. Eventually, the group noticed her silence, and their argument faltered to a stop.
'I can cast obliviate,' Mezrielda said. 'Or had you all forgotten?'
That didn't please Emmeline. 'What are you saying?'
'We get the invitations from Primrose and then I take her memories from her. She won't know what we're planning and she won't be able to sabotage it.'
'That's a nasty thing to do,' said Emmeline. 'And if you do it you won't have my support.'
'Are you going to risk Bagsy's life, and everyone else's lives, for the sake of one girl's memories?'
Emmeline clenched her jaw and sat back down with a furious expression.
Greenda gave Mezrielda a pleading look. 'Emmeline makes a good point. It is a nasty thing to do.'
'Nasty things happen,' Mezrielda snapped more harshly than she intended. 'There are far worse things to lose. Primrose will be safer for not knowing. I'll be doing her a favour, if anything.'
Averting her eyes, Emmeline twitched her head minutely. 'Fine,' she relented. 'Let's get this over with.'
Mezrielda, Emmeline and Greenda went straight to the Hufflepuff common room after the meeting. As soon as they got the invitations, Mezrielda would send a message to Swiftie, the captain-turned-carriage-flyer, for a lift to the castle, and they could begin the rescue. They only had a few more days before Bagsy's mind would be gone for good.
'She's not here,' Rebekah said with an uncaring shrug when they asked her where Primrose was. 'She's stopped hanging out with us.'
Logan nodded bitterly. 'Not cool enough for her anymore, I bet.'
Emmeline guided Greenda and Mezrielda away from the two. 'She'll be outside, then.'
Mezrielda pulled out of Emmeline's grasp, walking alongside them with pointed distance as they exited the common room and headed towards the grounds. 'Why would she be outside?'
'You'll see.'
Once they stepped into the sunlight of Scotland's dying Spring, and birthing Summer, Mezrielda spotted the glint of scales in the distant sky.
Primrose was practising her flying.
'It's become a bit of an obsession for her,' said Emmeline. 'Though she still doesn't quite get the whole teamwork thing.'
Greenda grunted her agreement.
They reached where Primrose was practising.
Primrose descended, sneering. 'Why'd you have to go and ruin an otherwise fine morning?'
Mezrielda said sharply, 'Because despite my better judgement, I've decided to accept your offer of help. If you give us the invitations we need, we'll let you join our team.'
Primrose looked her up and down. 'Is that so...' She reached into her pocket. Mezrielda stiffened, worried she was about to pull her wand out. She'd been practising her spells and had a fair few to defend herself with, but she was far more limited in her choices than before. If Primrose threw anything unexpected at her she wouldn't be able to react properly.
She needn't have worried. Primrose handed them six slips of paper. She waved a seventh in her own hands. 'And one for myself, obviously.'
'How did you get those?' Greenda asked as Mezrielda pocketed the invitations.
Primrose shrugged. 'I have a friend in the troupe.'
'You shouldn't call him a friend,' Emmeline protested gently. 'I don't think he has your best interests at heart.'
Primrose scoffed. 'This again. Just because you don't have any friends doesn't mean other people shouldn't, either.'
Greenda glared at Primrose. 'She has friends.'
'You and that rule-loving captain don't count,' Primrose retorted.
'We have what we need,' Mezrielda said to Greenda and Emmeline, hoping they'd leave the conversation at that.
'When's the rescue?' Primrose asked.
'Tomorrow,' Mezrielda answered, before, like the swift snap of a crocodile's jaws, her wand was pointed at Primrose. 'Obliviate.'
Eyes widened in surprise, Primrose didn't have time to duck, taking the spell full force. She stumbled back, blinking as if she had something caught below her eyelids, and holding a hand against her skull as if she had a headache. 'Oww,' she murmured, before looking up and see them standing there. 'Can I help you losers?'
'No,' Mezrielda responded coolly, walking away. 'You can't.'
With far more reluctance Emmeline followed, Greenda pulling her along.
Primrose hopped back on her broom, unperturbed. 'Whatever, freaks,' she muttered.
A few moments later when Mezrielda, Emmeline and Greenda were out of earshot, Primrose shook her head. 'You'll never learn, will you?'
Her gaze burned on the receding figure of Emmeline, a brooding look of betrayal on her face.