As soon as Bagsy woke in the infirmary Mr Jones rushed her to Professor Fitzsimmons' office, mumbling repetitive worries below his breath.
With a clink, the glass ladder descended from the trapdoor in the ceiling that led to the office. Thanking Mr Jones, Bagsy ascended. She could only use her left arm. Her right one hurt too much. The swelling had gone but it was an ugly purple colour. The musty space of Fitzsimmons' office was lit with orange lamps. Seated on cushions in a circle were Starrett, Stery and Fitzsimmons.
'Take a seat, Bagsy,' Professor Fitzsimmons said gently. Bagsy did, her eyes darting around the room and catching glimpses of fluttering moths. The place smelt of dust and old wood. 'I've been told by your friends that the acting troupe invited you all to their castle, and then proceeded to attack you. Is this true?'
Starrett threw her hands into the air. 'Of course, she'll say yes,' she muttered in annoyance. 'You should have just asked her what happened first.'
Fitzsimmons gave Starrett a quieting look. 'I trust what the other students reported to us.'
Starrett folded her arms, grumbling angrily to herself. She said something like naïve but Bagsy didn't quite hear.
'Yes,' Bagsy lied, a feeling of guilt fluttering around her like the moths. 'That's correct.'
Stery looked pensive. 'It would explain why they all had invitations.'
Fitzsimmons inclined their head in agreement. Starrett was pursing her lips and tapping a finger angrily against her arm.
Fitzsimmons said, softly now, 'We found Emmeline's body. She was next to the rubble of the castle and the statues. She'd fallen a great height.' Fitzsimmons' eyes were downturned. 'I regret to inform you she didn't survive.'
Bagsy heard the words, but her brain didn't know what to do with them. She felt cold.
Fitzsimmons said, 'Given what happened, allowances will be made for your exams, though you will still have to sit them. Should you need to talk to anyone about the incidents, or how you are feeling with everything that has happened, we are more than willing to accommodate that.'
Bagsy didn't say a word.
'The Ministry are currently looking for the attacker that got away. We've been told his name is Lewis. Does that sound correct to you?'
Bagsy nodded. She didn't remember telling her body to do that. She felt numb.
Fitzsimmons now looked at Stery, expecting him to speak.
'Yes, right, of course.' Stery shifted forward on his pillow-seat. 'It's come to our attention that during this incident you became aware of something that might have... shocked you.'
Bagsy looked from Stery to Fitzsimmons to Starrett with wary eyes. She stayed silent for as long as she could but, after a painful pause, she realised they weren't moving on until she spoke. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' she said, but the fact Stery was in this meeting spoke volumes. He was also a doppelganger. Bagsy wondered if, when he looked at her, he saw purely grey eyes like she saw when she looked at him.
Stery said, 'One of your friends mentioned in passing that you tried to look into a girl's memory. They didn't seem to know more than that, and your other friend refused to elaborate.'
Bagsy assumed her meant Mezrielda. Teresa, Bagsy guessed, was probably the one who'd accidentally blabbed.
'Let me make this clear,' Stery said. 'If you don't know what we're talking about, that's fine. But if you do know, if you understand why you can look into memories, you will find no harm from us by saying this out loud.' He paused, pointing at his own eyes. 'Remember, I'm like you.'
The truth bubbled up her throat like some terrible monster refusing to be contained. 'I think—' she choked out. 'I think I'm a doppelganger.' She wasn't sure if she felt better now she'd said it, but the act of trusting the professors felt like throwing herself off a cliff.
'You're very lucky, then,' said Stery. 'I'll explain more to you next year, once you've had time to process everything, but a doppelganger raised without knowing they're a doppelganger is a dangerous thing.'
Fitzsimmons held up a hand for Stery to be silent. They looked at Bagsy. 'Let me be clear; we knew you were a doppelganger from the beginning. It's one of the reasons we allowed a private room. Depending on their dreams, doppelgangers can shift in their sleep. It's rare in those that don't know they're doppelgangers, but not impossible.'
Bagsy's eyes widened as she thought of her second year, when she'd spent a good amount of time sleeping in the girl's dormitory. She decided not to mention that to them.
Fitzsimmons continued. 'We would have told you, but we were advised that telling a doppelganger what they are when they are raised unaware can...' They paused, straightening their bug-like glasses on their face. 'Can kill them.'
Stery nodded. 'Your adviser was correct. The shock can be overwhelming. A doppelganger has to build and maintain a true identity as they grow to ground them whilst they explore their abilities to shapeshift. When someone doesn't know they're a doppelganger and finds out, the shock can sever them from their true self, leading to an endless shift that turns them to dust.'
It was a lot to take in, so Bagsy didn't bring herself to respond. She just sat. And listened.
Fitzsimmons said, 'We'll offer you more advice over the summer. We won't force this meeting on you longer than absolutely necessary, given what you've been through.' The assurance felt hollow coming from someone Bagsy wasn't sure she could trust. Fitzsimmons said, 'Unless you have any questions, you may go.'
Bagsy didn't move. She wasn't sure how to. Softly, she said, 'What about the woman? The one Lewis infected?'
Starrett frowned. 'Swiftie? The carriage driver?'
'Yeah.'
Fitzsimmons clasped their hands in their lap. 'The woman in question is currently stabilised and at St Mungo's. Her family are with her. She would have died that night, but Greenda managed to aid her before she was brought to Hogwarts.' They tensed. 'Still, she was infected with a fatal disease from the attacker. We don't know when, but she will pass away eventually.'
Stery was fiddling with one of the star charms at the end of his beard, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. 'Probably within the month,' he said. 'At least, thanks to Greenda, she'll get to say goodbye to her family.'
'Thank you for telling me,' said Bagsy, not looking at any of them. That was two lives on her head, then. Three, if you counted Pepsini. More, if you counted the acting troupe.
'I'm sure your friends are wondering where you are,' Fitzsimmons said, giving a nod to Starrett who stood up. 'Professor Starrett will take you too them.'
Bagsy let herself be led down the ladder and to the courtyard.
Starrett stopped abruptly. 'I'm afraid that I have more bad news.'
'What is it?'
'Firstly,' Starrett said, Bagsy drooping at the fact there was more than one thing on the list, 'your parents have had to be informed.' Bagsy shrugged. They wouldn't even open the letter they'd been sent. 'And Rebontil, too.'
At that, Bagsy stiffened. 'Where is she?'
Starrett looked confused. 'She isn't here.'
'Bontie didn't come?'
Starrett shook her head.
'Oh.' She told herself that was a good thing. She wouldn't have to deal with her berating her recklessness. 'I see.'
'I'm—' Starrett put her hands behind her back, looking as if she was suddenly very interested in the painting on the wall. 'I'm very glad you're alright. Thank you for using that slip and letting me know you were in trouble. You did the right thing.'
Bagsy stared at Starrett.
Starrett looked back at her. 'None of what happened was your fault. You did the best you could.' There was a long pause, and the look of sadness on Starrett's face made Bagsy feel a little less alone. 'I'm sorry. What happened was horrific. Someone as young as yourself should never have had to face it, but you did anyway.' An even longer pause. 'I'm proud of you.'
Bagsy's mouth parted. 'Do you mean that?'
'Am I the type to dish out false praise?'
The pain Bagsy was feeling lessened a fraction. She smiled weakly. 'I don't think anyone's ever told me they're proud of me.'
Starrett's face fell. She quickly looked away.
'What was the other news?'
A pained expression took home on Starrett's face. 'Your arm. The damage was irreparable.'
Bagsy frowned, slowly wriggling her fingers. 'It does hurt but I can still move it. Won't it heal?'
'Physically, yes. However...' Starrett squared her shoulders. 'You won't be able to cast magic with it again.'
After everything that had happened, after the deaths that had occurred, Bagsy felt like that was the least of what she deserved. 'I'll just cast with my left hand, then,' she decided, only a hint of glumness in her voice.
There was a pause, and then Starrett dipped her head. 'I must have taught you well. You're thinking through puzzles quickly.' She regarded Bagsy. 'I'll help you learn to cast with your left arm, but you've been through a lot so do try to rest for a bit, even if it's not your style.' She started walking again, and Bagsy followed suit, looking down at her arm. 'There,' Starrett said, gesturing at where a wooden table had been set up in the sunny courtyard. Mezrielda, Teresa, Itsuki and Jon were sitting at it.
'Thank you.' Bagsy waved goodbye to Starrett, who inclined her head politely, swiftly extending a piece of paper to her, then left.
Bagsy glanced down at the paper she'd been given. It was a slip with Starrett's name on it to replace the one she'd torn at the acting troupe's castle. She carefully put it in her pocket then walked into the courtyard.
'Bagsy,' Teresa greeted, spotting her first.
Mezrielda turned, her eyes meeting hers.
Bagsy broke into a run and put her arms around Mezrielda, before sitting down next to her. 'Thank you,' she said. 'All of you. For coming to save me.'
'Of course,' Teresa said as if it was nothing. Itsuki and Jon nodded their heads in agreement.
Itsuki spoke first. 'Did they tell you about Emmeline?'
Bagsy felt like something was lodged in her throat. 'Yeah.'
'And Greenda, Kat and Primrose?' Jon asked.
Bagsy's heart jumped into her throat. 'No. What happened to them?'
'They're okay,' Teresa said quickly. 'Don't panic. Primrose and Greenda have both been sent home. Greenda will most likely have to re-take her final year as she was unable to take a lot of exams. Kat's parents requested Kat not be told until she'd finished hers but now she has she's gone back to America to be with her family.'
Jon shook his head sadly. 'I've never seen three girls look so miserable.'
'Kat was in shock. At first Greenda refused to talk, and then she couldn't stop crying,' Itsuki explained.
Teresa said, 'Primrose tried to claw the eyes out of anyone who came near her. She'd only let her cat come close.'
There was another pause and then, Mezrielda and Bagsy both not saying a word, the other students rushed into an explanation of everything that had happened. They talked about the plan beforehand, how they'd got the invitations, and the statues, catercolumns and brick-ticks they'd encountered. Even Primrose following them.
'We're lucky,' Teresa said, checking to make sure no one was listening. 'Fitzsimmons believed our story.'
Jon cut in, 'Give credit where credit's due—Mezrielda came up with the cover. It's her story, not ours.'
Bagsy looked at her friend expectantly.
Mezrielda glanced at each of them reluctantly. 'I told them the acting troupe had invited us there. Once there, they attacked us. Some of their spells misfired and the castle collapsed. We managed to escape, but we lost Emmeline on the way.'
'They believed us,' said Itsuki.
'Fitzsimmons told me,' said Bagsy. 'I agreed with the story they put forward. I think they trust you.'
'We're safe, then.' Teresa breathed in relief, before her face fell. 'At least, we're safe from punishment. Obviously, the plan didn't go well in the end.'
Mezrielda clenched her fists that were resting in her lap.
'What happened isn't any of your faults,' Bagsy said, looking meaningfully at Mezrielda. 'I got myself kidnapped. I put all of you in danger. I'm sorry.'
'No!' Itsuki hissed. 'Don't say sorry! Absolutely not! It's not your fault either.'
'Right!' agreed Jon. 'The only people whose fault this is, is the acting troupe's. They're the ones who kidnapped you, and they're the ones who got Emmeline killed.'
'How did...' Teresa swallowed. 'How did Emmeline die? Did they throw her over the edge?'
Mezrielda cast Bagsy a sideways glance. Bagsy hadn't had a chance to tell anyone what had happened between Primrose and Emmeline, least of all her best friend.
'Something like that,' Bagsy lied.
She'd explain to Mezrielda what had happened later, but after what she'd seen, she wasn't about to go telling people that Primrose had been instrumental in her sister's death.
As the hours stretched and they went over everything that had transpired, one by one, they left to do their own thing, and to try and think about something else besides what had happened.
Bagsy and Mezrielda went to the library nook.
'It was Primrose,' Bagsy said. 'She ripped Emmeline's invitation in half to convince her to leave but before she could the invisible walls went up and... she was trapped.' She clasped her shaking hands together. 'Primrose had to watch as her sister waited to fall.' Mezrielda's eyes widened. She didn't seem to have any words. 'I know,' Bagsy said glumly.
'I'm sorry you had to see that and, as much as I hate her, I'm sorry Primrose had live it.'
They sat in silence for a long time.
Bagsy looked at her hands. 'I'm a doppelganger, then,' she said, lightly scraping her nails along the wooden surface of the table.
'I've never told you about how I was born, have I?'
Bagsy shook her head, a bit confused at the sudden change in topic.
'It's not just that Dantura and Palid aren't my biological parents. I don't have any biological parents,' said Mezrielda, and Bagsy looked up in confusion, thoughts of being a doppelganger briefly gone. 'I was grown by magic before being handed to the Glints. The Ministry didn't want to risk a 'real' baby with vampires, you see.'
'You... were born by magic?'
'Yes. Or muggle science. A mixture of both is perhaps the best description. Mother and father never hid it from me because, you see, it doesn't matter if I was made by magic in a tube and not by two humans. I'm still me. I'm Mezrielda Glint. I'm a living being worthy of respect. And, frankly, I'm the best living being.' She shrugged. 'This year I stopped feeling like myself. I thought, without my spells, I was nothing. I thought I was no longer the person I used to be. But that's where we're wrong. None of these things are what makes a person a person. You can't define it, you can't put a label on it, because it's simply something more.'
'I don't understand.'
'You're more than a doppelganger. You're more than an inventor. Don't you see? You're Bagsy Barciry Beetlehorn, and that's what matters.'
Bagsy looked at her, tearful. 'You promise?'
Mezrielda put a hand on her heart. 'I promise.'
As the final few days before their exams whizzed by, Mezrielda would explain to Bagsy what had happened while she was gone, how she'd gone through the shadows, received her old wand back as a gift and was now the Corvid Queen. Every now and then, she'd remember small details, like how they'd used Bagsy's talk-boards, or some of her sealable substance, or how Teresa had wriggled like a worm for twenty minutes straight.
She also learnt, when trying to recalibrate the talk-boards, that whatever magic had been in the acting troupe's castle had permanently damaged them. Whatever she wrote on one, absolute nonsense would appear on the other, and her repairs didn't help at all. It wasn't the first time she'd lost an invention, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. Given what else had been lost at the castle, she didn't care about the talk-boards being destroyed at all.
Mezrielda's explanation about how Philip was an ancient being known as a marionette was the most disturbing thing she learnt. Learning about how they collected people and controlled them like puppets was off-putting, knowing that had been her for a little while had been even worse. Mezrielda explained how Philip had talked about wanting Bagsy for her ability to shift into anything, making her a useful puppet, but Bagsy had swiftly shut down at the mention of her being a doppelganger.
Worst of all, was knowing Philip's puppets had really been moving corpses. She thought about Three. When she'd met them, they'd never really been alive. That had nearly been Bagsy's fate. According to Mezrielda, so long as Philip didn't have any other people in his collection, once he was pushed from Bagsy's mind he should have ceased to exist. That left them hoping the acting troupe had been the only people who were under Philip's control.
'How did you manage to push him out?' Mezrielda asked one day, as they revised.
Bagsy averted her eyes. In truth, she was beginning to worry she could have kicked Philip from her mind all along but had let him control her. She'd been so horrified by her own body being a doppelganger's it had been nice to distance her own mind from her body and let someone else make all the decisions. But then, as her mind had been soaking in tranquil, warm waters of darkness there was a feeling of someone struggling below her, and her consciousness was pulled back to her body. Mezrielda had been about to die, strangled by Bagsy's own hands. Her mind had thrashed inside her skull like a bull, kicking Philip out.
In short; everything was Bagsy's fault. If she'd toughened up sooner and kicked Philip out no one would have been hurt. It had taken Bagsy breaking into tears, and at least half an hour of Mezrielda begging her to tell her what was wrong, before she revealed what she'd been thinking.
'No,' Mezrielda said firmly. 'It's not your fault, Bagsy. You saw what the acting troupe did to Pepsini. If you'd pushed Philip from your mind before we'd arrived, you would've stopped being useful to them. They would have killed you instantly, or you'd have over shifted into dust like Stery told you.'
'And Emmeline would still be alive.'
Mezrielda shook her head. 'It's like the others said. It's the acting troupe's fault. No one else's.'
Bagsy just shrugged, wiping her eyes and nose.
It was weird, preparing for the exams, knowing only a few days ago one of their friends had fallen to her death. Bagsy jerked awake multiple times a night in a cold sweat. She'd be covered in scales, her mind filled with the last wisps of blonde curls as they fell through the floor. Then her skin would be her own once more and she'd be thinking about when Mezrielda had fallen through a shadow in her second year, and the cold sweat would become a freezing dread that one day something might happen to the person closest to her. No matter how hard she'd grip the bed sheets, nothing could ground her after that thought inevitably rose in her mind.
As their exams began, and Bagsy's stress was through the roof, Mezrielda offered to sleep in her room with her.
'I've relearnt the switching spell,' Mezrielda explained. 'I can make the floor into a mattress for me to sleep on.'
At first Bagsy had been embarrassed. If Mezrielda slept in the same room as her, she'd know she wasn't really sleeping at all. But then Mezrielda shocked awake as much as she did. At least in struggling with what had happened to them, Bagsy and Mezrielda still had each other. After the kidnapping incident, Mezrielda seemed all too keen to never lose sight of Bagsy again.
The professors went easy on Bagsy. Despite having lost the ability to cast spells with her right arm, using her exercise technique, and guiding the magic down her left arm, she managed to cast at least one spell in each of her exams. That meant she only had three fails overall, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration and Charms, but her Herbology and Potions' grades were so high they just about carried her through to the next year.
Mezrielda had been tearing her hair out in fear but—despite spending the year doing very little—with just a few days of actually trying, she easily passed each exam. Even if the marks weren't as good as she was used to, they were already better than Bagsy's.
Mezrielda and Bagsy were walking to the Hogwarts express bound for London Kings Cross when Mezrielda turned to Bagsy. 'Over the summer we should meet up and practise spellcasting.'
Bagsy folded her arms and cocked her head to the side. 'I thought you didn't want me to teach you spells?'
'I didn't,' Mezrielda admitted.
'Does that mean you were wrong and I was right?'
Mezrielda looked at her flatly. 'No. It means the context of the situation has altered from what it stood to be previously.'
'That's a lot of words for 'yes'.' Joking with Mezrielda was one of the few things that still felt normal. Bagsy clung to it like a drowning girl to a raft.
'I've simply come to the realisation that there's no shame in failing a few times before performing a spell correctly.'
'Ground breaking. I'll contact the Wizengamot. You deserve an award.'
'I'm surprised you even know what the Wizengamot is,' Mezrielda shot back.
'So, you're willing to let me try and teach you, then?'
Mezrielda gave a mock bow. 'Why, Professor Beetlehorn, I'd be honoured.'
'Professor Beetlehorn. That sounds cool.'
'Don't go getting ideas, now. I don't want you turning into a dusty old professor.'
'Maybe that's my destiny,' Bagsy retorted.
'What? To be dusty and old?'
'I meant professor, obviously.'
'Hm.'
They boarded the train, bought themselves as much food as they could stomach, and Mezrielda deemed mature enough, and tried their best not to think about the girl who'd died. All the while Crimson looked like he wanted to eat Bagsy, and Eldritch puffed out his chest as Bagsy put a bowtie on his head that she'd got from one of the sweet boxes.
'I'll visit as soon as I can,' Mezrielda said when they arrived in London Kings Cross and stepped off the train, loaded with their luggage. Mezrielda had yet to relearn the levitation charm, so their bags had to be carried by hand, but Bagsy trusted her friend would get the hang of the spell eventually now that she was actually trying.
'I can't wait.' Bagsy smiled at her, before scanning the crowd. She couldn't see Bontie.
'I have to go,' Mezrielda said, noticing some students were pointing at her while talking to parents with angry expressions. Her infamy as a vampire child hadn't left her, despite everything that had happened. 'I'll write to let you know when I'm coming. Goodbye, Bagsy, and fare thee well.'
Bagsy held back a laugh. 'Only you say goodbye like that.' Mezrielda stuck her tongue before walking off. 'And she pretends to be mature,' Bagsy murmured fondly to herself before heading to the floo station. In a burst of flame she was home.
One Aesher Common felt painfully empty. Himble and Florentchia would be locked in their studies, working on their latest potions products, but Bontie wasn't anywhere in sight. Bagsy didn't want to call out her name.
She trudged up to her room, Eldritch flapping ahead of her, and unpacked. She was halfway through her things, and was beginning to gingerly unwrap the different fragile inventions she'd attempted to make throughout the year, when she found the box she'd secured the restoring receipt within.
When she'd packed, the mushy receipt hadn't finish restoring. Tod had found the degraded object in the underlake, where he'd been attacked and had his tongue cut out. It was the only clue as to who had assaulted him. Now, as Bagsy looked down at the see-through box, she saw the restoration process the receipt had been going through had completed on the journey home.
She chucked the invention in her hand onto her bed, forgotten, and pulled the box out, gently prying the receipt from the restoration solution. She walked over to the window of her room, trying to catch as much of the evening light as she could, and squinted at the small print that had been scrawled onto the paper. It was ripped, so that half of the words were missing, but she could still read what was there.
pines, 7 knuts
'Pines?' Bagsy echoed. She stood still, her eyes narrowed as she thought over the word. 'Pines... pines... pine cones? Pine leaves? Pine—' A cold hand gripped Bagsy's heart. She thrust open a drawer of her work bench. With loud clatters she shoved the heavy tools within to the side, then started throwing them over her shoulder to land with thuds on the floor. Finally, she snatched her Dumplings and Dollops menu from beneath.
She slammed it onto the work bench, opened it up, and traced her finger over the food options. Her finger came to a stop just below a very familiar meal.
Syrup rice with cacti spines, 7 knuts
Bagsy placed the restored receipt next to the menu, eyes darting from one to the other, a freeze creeping over her brain. Throwing caution to the wind, she rushed into Bontie's room and ransacked her things. She searched her boxes, her wardrobe, below her bed. She searched everything. She even grabbed the key from the book and opened the locked cabinet.
Nothing.
She cleaned up after herself, hiding her searching, then went through the rest of the house. She ended her search with the lounge and as she was about to give up her eyes landed on a rug on the floor. Curious, she toed the end of the rug, and then pushed a corner of it over. Below it was a faint line in the floor she'd never paid much attention to. She crouched next to it, inspecting the indent. With a swift movement, she threw the rug to the side.
Able to see more of it now, Bagsy realised the line made a square shape in the floor. Bagsy thought it looked similar to the size of the trapdoor her foldable forge created. She dug her nails into the indented line and tried to pry it open. It wouldn't budge.
The floo station burst into life.
Bagsy jumped to the other side of the room, accidentally using her thaumaturgy. Scrambling, she hurried back over to the rug and pulled it over the indent in the floor before jumping far away from it.
Bontie stood tall in her ministry robes, brown hair gloriously flowing down her shoulders and pointed hat neatly perched on her head. She looked at Bagsy then, without saying a word, walked to the stairs.
'You didn't come to see me,' Bagsy said, hurt plain in her voice.
'Willing to speak to me now, are we?' Bontie said coolly, not turning to look at her. 'You didn't respond to my letter. After what happened, I figured you'd want some space.'
'Can you blame me? I found out you've been lying to me my whole life! I found out you were my mother!'
Bontie flinched.
Another cold jolt hit Bagsy. 'Turn around,' she said. Bontie did so, looking down at her with her green eyes. Her green, very much not clay-coloured, eyes.
'You're not a doppelganger,' Bagsy said, taking a risk. Mezrielda believed she hadn't stolen someone else's life. Mezrielda believed Bagsy had been a doppelganger all along. Bagsy trusted Mezrielda, which meant Bagsy had been a doppelganger from birth, which meant Bontie had to be lying. Bontie wasn't a doppelganger like Bagsy was.
Bontie failed to keep her neutral expression. Her lip quirked down. 'No.'
'You're not even my mother, are you?'
'I'm not.'
Bagsy shook her head, taking a step back. 'Explain.'
Bontie gestured at one of the low-backed sofas that filled the living space. Bagsy sat down. Bontie took her own seat opposite, crossing her legs. 'Do you know what our parents do?'
'What Himble and Florentchia do, you mean,' Bagsy corrected her.
'Don't get smart with me or you won't get answers. Our parents, and yes I will call them that. For all their flaws, they've housed and fed you, even if they haven't raised you. Our parents run a potions business. They invent and sell potions here in the UK.'
'I know that.'
'What you may not have known is that, in America, they sell potions' ingredients, not just potions.'
Bagsy didn't follow. 'Tell me why I'm in this family. Tell me where my real parents are.'
Bontie clenched her jaw, glaring at her as if she were an annoying fly. 'I'm getting to that.' She let out a breath. 'Doppelgangers are classed as inexcusables in the UK. You can't clone and sell their potions ingredients here in England.'
It took Bagsy a second to process the words, but once she had, she felt sick. 'Clone?' she repeated. 'Their potions ingredients? Do you mean Himble and Florentchia trade with doppelgangers in the US?'
Bontie looked out the window. 'I wish.'
The sick feeling got so much worse. 'What do you mean, then?'
'They keep them in warehouses, packed together like how muggles used to keep cattle or crates. They use magic to clean their minds of any thoughts when they're born, making them empty shells so at least they never get the chance to feel anything, or be aware of what's going on but even so...' Bontie suppressed a shudder. 'Then they remove their nails, their hair, even their eyes, and sell them for millions as potions ingredients.'
A hand rose to Bagsy's mouth as she felt bile crawl up the back of her throat.
Bontie continued. 'When I found out I couldn't bare it. I stole you from the factory. I found an old photo of my great grandmother and I used that to give you a face to wear as your mind slowly came back to you and you gained the sentience you'd been denied until then. Once you'd settled into the identity, I told mum and dad you were my own. They didn't want the shame, so they agreed they'd pretend you were their child.'
Bagsy gripped her stomach, leaning forwards and squeezing her eyes shut. 'My parents...'
'Whoever you were cloned from, they're in the US,' Bontie said in a slow voice. 'But, Bagsy... they're already gone. Doppelgangers don't last in those warehouses.' She clenched her fists. 'The only comfort I can offer is that there wouldn't have been a single moment in their life when they were conscious. They wouldn't have suffered.' She shook her head. 'That doesn't make it right, that's not what I mean at all, I just thought you should know.'
'Why haven't you stopped them?!' Bagsy burst out.
Bontie fixed her with a cutting look, but the burning anger there wasn't for Bagsy. 'You must believe me when I say everything I do is to stop things like this. Everything.'
Bagsy rose her other hand to her mouth as well, fighting her nausea. Her whole body shook, revulsion prickling up her spine. She took a few minutes to try and control her breathing. She was getting lightheaded—if she wasn't careful, she'd faint. 'Why don't I remember this?' she wheezed. 'I can't imagine being in a warehouse. I can't imagine any of it.'
'You were only young,' Bontie said. 'About five or six years old. That's when a doppelganger's eyes fully develop and can be harvested. A doppelganger's eyes contain their soul, Bagsy. Once the warehouse workers remove the eyes, magic isn't needed to keep the doppelgangers mindless. They're essentially dead, their body empty of life. Nothing more than an empty container.'
Bagsy thought of the acting troupe, of living corpses being healed and controlled by Philip. Something like that had nearly been her fate twice, if Bontie was to be believed.
'Your eyes were about to be taken from you. I... I couldn't stand to watch, so I obliviated the workers and snuck you out.' A faint smile graced Bontie's lips. 'The second you were released from the mindless magic you were so peaceful and happy. A little grey infant, grasping at my hair. In all likelihood, you had no memories of the warehouse to begin with, but once I got home I removed any memories you might have had, just in case. I couldn't let such a sweet thing be tainted by such an evil start in life.'
'Return them to me,' Bagsy snapped, looking up. 'I want to remember the other doppelgangers. I want to remember the warehouse. How can I believe any of this, otherwise? You've already lied so much.'
Bontie shook her head. 'I'm sorry, but I can't do that. For one, there are most likely no memories to return, and even if there were, I removed them so you wouldn't be traumatised. To give them back to you now, if they do exist, would defeat the purpose.'
Bagsy gaped at her. 'You think I'm not already traumatised? I've had to watch a girl fall to her death! Did you know that? Or couldn't you be bothered to read the letter the school sent home, just like Himble and Florentchia?'
'Don't raise your voice,' Bontie warned, glancing up.
'Are you serious?' A horrid anger that felt so foreign took over her, pushing all her timidity down. 'Like they'd care to come down unless their precious belongings were being broken.'
'You're not ready to talk about this,' Bontie decided. 'I'm going to give you some space. I'll stay at Griffin's until you've adjusted given how much this is to take in.'
'You don't get to decide that! Not after what you just told me!'
'Yes. I do. When I make the decisions, everything goes better.' Bontie stood, gathered her belongings, and walked back to the fireplace. 'We'll talk more about this once you've calmed down.'
'Don't you dare—'
In a flash of green flame, Bontie was gone, and Bagsy was left with her anger. She stood frozen for a time, her thoughts pummelling her. Entire warehouses filled with dead doppelgangers whose corpses were being used for potions ingredients? Potions ingredients? She cast her eyes upwards to where she knew Himble and Florentchia were busying themselves in their workshops, hatred boiling within her.
When an unfamiliar owl fluttered into the house and dropped a letter on the table, mournfully inviting Bagsy to Emmeline's funeral, something inside of her snapped.
Bagsy dropped to the floor, doing push ups. After ten or so, she hopped back to her feet, marched over to rug and threw it aside, seeing the lines in the floor she'd noticed earlier. She pointed her wand down, grasped in her left hand. 'Alohomora!' she cast. Nothing happened.
Bontie didn't return that night. Bagsy knew because she stayed up until the sun was rising, doing push-ups or running up and down the stairs before casting a spell on the faint lines. All she got was nothing, nothing, nothing and more nothing, but every time she came close to giving up she thought of the reformed receipt upstairs, or Bontie's lies, of Emmeline, of dead doppelgangers, and then kept going.
Still more nothing.
Still more nothing.
Still more nothing.
Morning light streaming into the room as Bagsy forced back a yawn. 'Aloho...mor..a...'
The square on the floor popped open.
Bagsy didn't notice at first and fell over in surprised realisation as she half-spun back towards the stairs to do more running. With a groan of pain, and a sensation of burning in her right arm, she got back to her feet and looked at the newly appeared passageway. A set of grey stairs led into darkness. Bagsy followed them, coming face to face with a heavy metal door lined with multiple locks. She threw her head back and let out a groan of frustration.
Bontie also didn't come back the next day. Bagsy knew because she spent the entire time working on the locks, images of blonde curls falling through the floor, of clay grey eyes, and of Bontie's face making sleep and rest impossible. She'd work herself to death at this point. Anything to keep her focussed on something else besides her thoughts, anything to find answers or gain even the slightest bit of rebellion against Bontie, or Himble, or Florentchia, for what had been done.
Running, casting, push-ups, casting, rinse, repeat, faint from exhaustion, get back up, keep going.
By the time she was on the last lock it was midnight again, and she was beginning to see things in the corner of her eye or hear noises she was so tired. But, eventually, the final lock clicked open, and Bagsy let out a small sob of relief.
She pushed against the door, but it didn't budge. 'Come on!' she pleaded, tears in her eyes as she pressed her left hand against it. Her wand glowed with a faint light as it touched the door's surface and it swung open. 'Oh,' she said, looking the door up and down. 'Thank you.'
She stepped into the room and wrapped her arms around herself in dread. Everything that had happened that year, and everything she'd learned, was fresh in her mind the second she'd stopped focussing on unlocking the door. She tried to think on the receipt more than anything else. Relatively speaking, it was the least disturbing thing to think about.
The connection had seemed tenuous at first. She'd found the receipt at the scene of the crime, where Tod's tongue had been cut out, but that location was the underlake, where plenty of people passed through. The receipt seemed to be for syrup, rice and cacti spines, which was what Bontie always ordered from Dumplings and Dollops. But then Bontie wouldn't be the only person to order such a thing from such an establishment.
Bagsy stepped into the small room. It was as dim as it was drab. Water dripped down from the roof onto a deep pool that filled half the floor, and the stone walls were black with age. Bagsy's eyes landed on a cupboard in the corner and her heart sank. She didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to even look, but her mingled curiosity and fury got the better of her.
She shuffled over to the cupboard, crouched, and pulled on the door handle. It was locked, but it only took her twenty-two tries this time to get it to open which felt like nothing to what had come before. With a creak as the hinges protested, Bagsy peered into the dank space.
There was a small tube filled with water that swirled a glittering silver. Floating within it was a severed tongue.