The next day was a scheduled trip to Hogsmeade, and although Beth was very ready for a vacation after all they had been through, Richard stayed behind for a long talk with Dumbledore. So, wishing him luck, the rest of the S.S.A. packed up and headed down to the village for some much-needed relaxation.
The stress of finals had done some good; it had completely shattered the year-long tradition of "going with" someone to Hogsmeade. Draco Malfoy somehow managed to shake off Pansy Parkinson, and was spotted with Crabbe and Goyle setting a booby trap for Colin Creevey. The Quidditch team stormed the Leaky Cauldron and sang "Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here" until Madame Rosmerta, pink and chuckling, served free butterbeer to the seven of them. For Beth, it was a huge relief to stroll around with Melissa and Bruce again, without worrying about Galen, Antigone, or any of it.
And through it all, there was the gossip: Sirius Black had escaped. Professor Lupin was a werewolf and had resigned his position. Professor Flitwick's office wasn't as secure as he had thought. (Only the Ravenclaws were really interested in this tidbit.) And Professor Snape was as mad as a toad in the Sahara.
"Can you blame him?" said Bruce idly, when this reached their ears.
"Yeah, but you should have seen him," Beth said fervently. "I thought he was going to kill someone."
A sort of sadness flitted across Bruce's face. "Oh, why couldn't it have been Potter?"
They visited the Shrieking Shack and Zonko's, where the Weasley twins were seen plotting in one corner; Beth pointed out the cave where they had met Bode and Croaker; in Honeydukes' they were gratified to see that the sign about dementors patrolling after nightfall had been removed. They stopped by the small broomstick shop and museum near Dervish and Banges because there was a rumor that the museum had acquired an actual Firebolt.
Bruce gazed hatefully at the Firebolt (no doubt with Potter in mind) while Beth and Melissa went back to the row of portraits of Generous Contributors to the Museum and to the Sport of Quidditch in General. "So you're related to him," Melissa mused, pointing up at the portrait of Beobub "Bob" Parsimmer. "Very rich, you know. Maybe you'll get one of those whacking big inheritances that you read about in books."
"My life hasn't been much like a book up till now," said Beth. As she looked up at the portrait she saw images of her father, emaciated Lycaeon, mad Chris, and the blonde-pigtailed Hufflepuff reflected in the eyes and chin of the Parsimmers -- and she saw a black band around Beobub's upper arm.
"The banshee."
Melissa took a quick breath. "Do you hear her now?" she asked, looking around with wide eyes.
"No, no, it's just that I realized I haven't heard her for months! But look at that band on his arm." The man in the portrait turned slightly and smiled down at them sadly.
Melissa grasped the significance immediately and called over the shopkeeper, a parched middle-aged man who hobbled quickly at her summons. "That wasn't there before," she told him, pointing to the black band.
The shopkeeper leaned on his cane and nodded sagely. "Yes, poor man, he had me paint it on in March when he heard that his grandmother had died on an expedition down the Amazon. The dear old lady was one hundred and twenty, and simply not as adept at crocodile-wrestling as she was once." He paused to wipe a tear from his eye. "Her death was a personal loss to me. I'm sorry." He shuffled away, pulling a huge hanky from his pocket.
Beth stared after him. "That means it's not --" she began, and a huge smile broke over her face.
Melissa squealed excitedly and hugged her.
"Guess what, Beth!"
Beth turned around to see Colin Creevey standing there, eating a large Honeydukes chocolate and flocked by his second-year friends. "What?" she grinned.
"The Potions final was really easy -- I think I passed the second-year exam!"
"Colin," said Beth, unable to stop smiling, "that's just great." Without warning, she swooped down on him and gave him a big hug. The chocolate fell from his hands and some of his classmates looked alarmed, but Beth didn't notice. "That's great. Everything's just great!"
Colin beamed.
The day was long and warm, and it was a tired and happy group of students that boarded the horseless coaches on the way back to the school. All of them were drowsy, but Mervin seemed unusually subdued. Beth asked about it.
"Gina used to love Hogsmeade," he said forlornly.
Melissa smiled sympathetically. "We all miss Gina," she said staunchly. "She was like the S.S.A. mascot."
"Right," Beth chimed in. A thought struck her. "I'll bet the magic mirror will let you see her."
Mervin looked up at her as if unwilling to hope. "Mirror?"
"Right, it's in the prefect's lounge for firsties who get homesick!" said Beth enthusiastically. "Riggs showed it to me last year ... We'll get Richard to take us there right away, how about that?"
"That would ... be great," said Mervin, and he slowly began to smile.
Richard was delighted to show them the mirror. The prefects' lounge was empty; Beth figured everyone was out enjoying the summer sun or celebrating the end of finals.
"So what did Dumbledore tell you?" Melissa asked eagerly, as they gathered around the mirror.
Richard grinned ruefully. "Not a lot, truth be told, although he's promised us another Special Award for Services to the School. Potter and Granger were using some sort of manipulation of time -- that's why there were two of each -- and Dumbledore tells me that Sirius Black is innocent."
Melissa gaped at him. "But he slashed up that portrait!"
"And went after that little Weasley with a knife," Beth added.
"Not to mention breaking out of Azkaban and into Hogwarts," said Melissa.
Richard shrugged. "Yes, well, he's supposed to be innocent of that mass Muggle-killing twelve years ago."
"That's nuts," said Melissa, shaking her head. "Just like that, he's the good guy? What convinced Dumbledore?"
"He wouldn't tell me how they knew. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Shaw,'" Richard said imperiously, screwing up his face in imitation of the headmaster, "'but it may be best for you and the Society if you know no more than the general public about these matters until they are resolved.'" He gave a half-shrug. "I guess we'll have to find out the usual way."
"Sneaking around eavesdropping?" said Beth wickedly.
Richard grinned. "You've got it."
"My snake ..." said Mervin pointedly, and Richard turned back to him.
"Yes, of course. Just look into the mirror and say the name of whoever you want to see." He scratched his head. "I'm pretty sure it works for animals too."
Mervin nodded and stepped up to the mirror. "Show me Nagini Fletcher." The glass grew cloudy and began to whirl.
"Nagini?" asked Beth.
Mervin ducked his head. "That's her full name, Gina's just a nickname," he admitted. "I figured, I'd better be specific. In case there's more than one snake named Gina out there."
"I'll bet there's only one named Nagini," said Melissa, impressed, but just then the picture cleared up. Through the mirror they could see Gina slithering through a dark coniferous forest, long and sinuous. Mervin heaved a deep sigh.
"I just hate to think of her out there all alone, though," he said heavily. "She's so little ... and ... "
He trailed off. The picture in the mirror had panned outward so that Gina's whole twelve-foot length was visible. Walking along behind her was a hunched man in a tattered cloak.
"Who is that?" Mervin exploded. He pressed his face against the mirror, which fogged in protest. "Get away from my snake!"
Beth thought it unnecessary to remind him that neither Gina nor the small man in the cloak could hear what he was yelling. In the mirror, Gina turned and hissed at the man, who quickened his step so that he was walking more or less beside her head.
"They look like friends," said Melissa tentatively. "At least she's not on her own."
"Right -- come on, he looks too pathetic to try to hurt her," Beth added. Indeed, the man was balding and slack-skinned, with a sort of hunted look in his small ratlike eyes. "She's in great shape compared to him. She's big enough to take care of herself."
Mervin gazed into the mirror. "Guess so," he agreed, after a long moment. "I guess ... when you love something ... you've got to -- let ... it ... go ..." He sniffled back tears and took a handkerchief out of his pocket. "She'll always be my baby," he said brokenly, and buried his face in the handkerchief. Melissa patted him comfortingly on the back.
Quite apart from missing Gina and Rat, the fifth-years had another great concern facing them: O.W.L.s results. It was the last day of the term when an official-looking envelope dropped onto Beth's plate at breakfast. She looked down the table and saw identical letters falling near her classmates. They picked them up, exchanged glances all along the table, and scattered to open them in private.
Beth scurried through the halls until she came to the statue of Gregory the Smarmy. She sank down beside it and turned the envelope over with trembling fingers. This was it -- her whole future in the wizarding world, here in her hands.
Once again she thought of the botched transfiguration and shuddered. She had done terribly -- she had failed. She didn't want to look.
She tore open the top of the envelope.
She really, really didn't want to look.
Come on, Parson, it's done with, you can't change your score by not looking at it.
She wanted someone else to look at it for her.
No -- she didn't want anyone else to see, ever.
This is ridiculous.
In a rush of resolve, Beth took a deep breath and yanked the paper out of its envelope. Hands shaking, she opened it and glanced down over the tiny writing. At the very bottom of the paper, a number leapt out at her.
The number one.
Oh help, thought Beth, panic rising in her chest, I only got one O.W.L.?!?
Then she realized that the one was followed by another one, and that together that made eleven -- a hot swoop of relief rushed through her and she started to laugh. Eleven -- that wasn't bad at all. In fact, it was good! What had she been worried about?
She went back to the table, where the fifth-years were recongregating. "Eight!" said Aaron, his face a mask of relief. "Can you believe it?" He lowered his voice. "Don't say anything to Warrington. He got a five and he's taking it rather hard."
That was an understatement. Every piece of silverware within Warrington's reach had been bent in half.
Antigone fluttered by, tossing her hair unconcernedly. "I don't need a lot of O.W.L.s if I can snag a rich husband," she tossed over her shoulder at Beth. For the first time all year, Beth felt good about the different roles they played. She would personally prefer O.W.L.s over a trophy spouse any day.
Unsurprisingly, Melissa got the best score in the class (although she wouldn't actually tell anyone how she had done, they got her to admit that it was over twelve), but Mervin had also done very well. "They actually gave me one extra for cursing the Weasleys!" said Mervin joyously. "They were impressed that I got two people at once so accurately -- look, they made a note of it!" His smile faltered a little. "I just wish Gina and Rat were here to see it."
"He can't stand human company," came a voice from nearby.
"He's not in human company, he's with the Slytherins," chimed in an identical voice.
They turned to see the Weasley twins standing smugly together. They each had their O.W.L.s results in hand. Without warning, Melissa snatched the envelope from the closest one of them. The Weasley shot out his hand to grab it back, but before he could, Melissa had it open and was reading the results with glimmering eyes.
"My my," she exclaimed delightedly. "And a pureblood family at that. What will your mother say?"
"She'll say at least I wasn't Sorted into the snake pit," the Weasley snapped, while his brother finally managed to snatch the paper away from Melissa.
"Perhaps," said Melissa smoothly, completely unperturbed, "but even you should have managed to pull more than seven." She raised her voice at the end so that the last word echoed clearly around the room. The Weasley threw up a brilliant blush. Melissa went on, obviously relishing the moment. "They give you four just for showing up, don't they? I say -- is your brother just as slow, or did he do even worse?"
"He did better," the Weasley said, but now both twins were blushing furiously despite their defiant stance.
"Eight?" guessed Melissa evilly. The other Weasley didn't say anything, but his expression was all the confirmation they needed.
"Well, we can't all have average human intelligence," said Mervin, looking at them with a sort of pity.
"Don't worry, boys, there's lots you can do with scores like that," Melissa said soothingly. "Menial labor ... factory charms ... I suppose you could always open a joke shop ..."
One of them started forward and began to say something, but his brother held him back and whispered something in his ear. The Weasley looked back at Melissa, said, "See you at the feast!" in a bright way, and then they left.
Mervin snorted. "What kind of parting shot was that?"
It turned out to be a very good parting shot. Once they had assembled at the feast, it was announced Gryffindor won the House Cup for the third year in a row, beating out Slytherin by a scant forty points. Bruce was beside himself.
"Do you realize --" he said, breathing heavily, "-- that if Marcus and Draco hadn't lost those fifty points --"
Richard looked over at them and slowly sank his head into his arms.
That was the last major event of the school year. Before Beth knew it, she and her friends stood at Hogsmeade station, loading their trunks onto the Hogwarts Express and making eager plans for the food cart. Bruce had put on his traveling clothes and found a pocketful of moldering Every Flavor Beans from the very beginning of the year. "Super," he said happily, and popped them into his mouth.
Melissa had finished packing. "Come on, are you ready?"
"One more trunk," Beth promised. "Save me a seat, all right? I'll be there in a minute." Melissa nodded agreeably and she and Bruce disappeared onto the train.
Beth bent and loaded her trunk into the compartment at the base of the train.
"Beth? Can I ... have a word?"
She turned around. There stood Richard, suitcase in hand, smiling awkwardly. "Sure," she said, surprised. "What is it?"
"I just ... wanted to say that I hope things go well with your brother's trial, and I'm glad it worked out for your father," he said.
"All thanks to you," said Beth sincerely. "I didn't know what to do. I wish I could tell him everything the Society did."
"Yes, well I ..."
"You would have done it for any one of the members, right?" Beth teased.
Richard smiled softly. "Actually, I would have done anything for you." He bent down suddenly and very tenderly kissed her cheek.
Beth's mouth dropped open in surprise. Richard drew back quickly and they both flushed a brilliant red. "Well ... uh ... have a good summer," he finished awkwardly, and rushed away.
Beth stared after him. As he boarded the train, one of his sixth-year friends glanced back at her and clapped Richard on the shoulder. He ducked his head and hurried onto the train.
"Coming, Beth?"
Bruce and Melissa were hanging out of the window of the train expectantly.
"I'm coming," called Beth back absently, and she climbed onto the Hogwarts Express, still feeling Richard's soft touch on her cheek.
One month later ...
The courtroom had reassembled. Witnesses, family, and judge surrounded Lycaeon Parson as he sat in the center of the room, shackled to the chair in the center. He gazed up at Justice Matheson, more strongly than he had before. The Justice glared back at him before issuing the final ruling.
"Lycaeon Cyrus Parson, you have been determined by this court to be repentant of your crimes and ready to reenter the world of the honest and the hard-working. Your wand will be kept in custody for fifteen years, at which point you may reclaim it if you have maintained a clean record in that time. You are forbidden to do magic until that time. You will report to a designated Ministry official on the first of each month." Then he smiled. "Good luck in your new life."
Beth felt like shouting for joy. There was some smattering of applause -- she looked around and saw Dave Gudgeon clapping, with Bode and Croaker behind him giving her enthusiastic thumbs-up signals.
Lycaeon looked beyond words. Fat tears rolled from his hollow eyes. He slowly turned his gaze to his father. Then the chains around his arms and legs vanished, and he leapt up, vaulted over the railing, and crushed Mr. Parson in a mighty hug.
He released his father and turned to Beth. He reached out his shaking hands and took her hands. "Bethy," he said softly, "I want to hear all about you."
"Me too," she said, and felt tears well up in her eyes.
They left the courtroom together, Lycaeon joyously shaking hands with everyone on the way out. "Well done," murmured Dave Gudgeon, patting him on the back.
The old witch with the knitting needles bustled up to them, the flower on her hat bobbing as she waddled. "Oh Mr. Parson!" she called, when she was nearly there.
Both Beth's father and brother turned to look at her. Beth giggled helplessly. She had only known one Mr. Parson in her life.
The knitting witch arrived in their midst. "I once had a brother," she said softly to Beth. Then she turned to Lycaeon.
"You killed him."
She raised a knitting needle above her head and plunged it into Lycaeon's chest.
Lycaeon staggered backwards, a trickle of blood starting to show on his threadbare shirt where the needle still stood. He fell into his father's arms. Beth opened her mouth in silent shock, unable to even scream -- but she heard the shriek of the banshee in her head, heard the wailing for the death of an unknown Parsimmer -- the doomed one was known now, he lay on the floor in his father's lap with blood running ever more thickly down his front --
"Stupefy!"
Justice Matheson charged into the group, wand leveled at the old witch. She fell to the floor senseless. The second knitting needle clattered to the ground.
Beth didn't watch what happened next. Her eyes were fixed on her lost-found-lost brother, losing his life on the cold stone floor of the courtroom.
"Bethy?"
"Beth dear, are you all right?"
From her chair, Beth looked up and smiled wanly. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Scamander."
The old couple clustered around her. Mrs. Scamander bent to give Beth a warm hug. "Oh Beth, how are you?"
"I'm -- I'm all right." She smiled bravely. "I'm all right."
"Where's your Pa, Bethy?" Mr. Scamander asked gruffly.
"Down the hall," said Beth, standing up. "Come on, let's go see him."
She led them down the antiseptic halls of St. Andrew's and into a small bedroom. Mr. Parson sat in a harsh-looking metal chair. He stood up when he saw the Scamanders. "Newt ... Porpentina ... I can't thank you enough for coming ..."
"We'll always be here for you, Bill," said Mrs. Scamander fondly, enveloping him in her arms. Her eyes seemed a bit wet. "How is Lycaeon?"
"You might ask him yourself," came a voice from behind them.
They gathered around the hospital cot where Lycaeon lay, tucked up to his waist in a clean white linen. Through the thin hospital gown they could see a wide bandage slung around his chest. Though his cheeks were still gaunt, he bore a faint smile.
"Well then, Mr. Parson, how are you?" said Mr. Scamander crabbily.
"I could play Quidditch for England," Lycaeon said grandly, with a sweep of his arm. He winced at the sudden pain. "Well -- soon."
A plump, Irish nurse in a white uniform bustled in, bearing a tray of food. "What's all this talk about you playin' cribbage in England, now?" she demanded. "Don't you be worryin' with such rubbish, Mr. Parson, t'will make you heal more slow, hear?" She cast a sidelong glance at the Scamanders in their long wizards' robes before hustling away, clicking her tongue.
Lycaeon watched her go. "Rather cute, for a Muggle," he commented roguishly.
"You've got low standards," said Beth severely.
Lycaeon spread his hands. "I haven't seen a girl in thirteen years, it's going to take me a while to get back into this."
Mr. Parson smiled down at his son. "We'll all help you," he said, putting an arm around Beth's shoulders. Mr. and Mrs. Scamander joined them at the side of the cot, nodding agreement.
It would only take a bit of time and faith, as Mrs. Scamander had said earlier than year. With both, nothing was impossible.