Bagsy Beetlehorn and the Corvid Trials (The Bagsy Chronicles 2)

The Worm Farm

Sleep was something Bagsy still struggled with. One night, feeling exhausted from Quidditch practise and hours of homework, Bagsy tried to turn in early but found herself staring at the yellow canopy of her bed and grasping the necklace around her neck fearfully.

Throwing her sheet off of herself and missing the quilt her sister had made, Bagsy got up and left the room. She wrote a quick letter to her sister, keeping her up to date with her life and informing her that Primrose had left well enough alone since the last incident, even if she did suspect her of stealing the quilt. Bound for the owlery, Bagsy pulled on her cloak and set off. It was nearing winter now and she didn't fancy facing the chill without the warm material keeping the wind off her.

Eldritch took her letter and swopped off efficiently, his cute, fluffy amber feathers buffeted in the winter breeze. Bagsy glanced up, seeing where a brick was missing from the structure and thought back to how she'd found the thorned gauntlet last year, before leaving the owlery. On her way back to the Hufflepuff common room she walked past a store cupboard that Bagsy swore was usually locked.

'You fools,' a deep voice hissed. It was thin sounding, like it was coming through a long pipe. 'The girl can't be forced into the shadows, we must let her go of her own volition. Next time don't act until you've been ordered!'

Bagsy, suddenly aware Mistress Foncée wasn't with her, tip-toed past as quietly as she could, feeling mildly terrified. If something went wrong, there would be no one with her to help.

'Come. There is no use trying to sneak back in here anymore,' the voice hissed. There was silence. 'That was an order, get moving!' it added in annoyance. Bagsy froze at the noise of clanks of metal shoes and the clinking of armour. Through the crack in the open door Bagsy saw silver shapes gleam as they walked into darkness. Soon, there was no more noise and no more voice.

Bagsy stood, too frightened to move, worried that even a twitch of her hand would give away where she was.

When she heard a squawk from inside the room Bagsy jumped in horror and ran all the way back to the Hufflepuff dormitory. If Bagsy had been unwilling to sleep before, she was downright incapable now. Luckily for her, Neve and Teresa were still awake, sitting in armchairs, Teresa in a nighty and Neve in pyjamas. Teresa had her head stuck in a book and Neve was folding paper, as usual.

Bagsy flopped down in the third armchair, staring blankly at the floor. Had she just seen someone commanding the metal suits of armour, the ones that had tried to throw Bagsy into a shadow? And what had it meant when it said the girl, Bagsy presumed in reference to herself, couldn't be forced into the shadows, but only enter them willingly? Bagsy's head swam with confusion and fear. She resolved to inform Mistress Foncée of what she'd heard as soon as she could.

Teresa's head had been buried deep in the book she was reading, Magical Creatures – Practical Practise, when suddenly she thrust her head out and onto the back of her armchair with a gasp of fear. Neve dropped her paper in shock before standing up and rushing to Teresa's side. Bagsy furrowed her brow in confusion, wondering how just a book had affected Teresa so.

'What was it?' Neve asked in a small voice, pushing her glasses up her nose before wringing her hands nervously together.

'It was one of the markers, Neve,' Teresa said, her voice shaking. Bagsy didn't think she'd ever seen Teresa scared, and a new fear sparked in her stomach.

Neve nodded, seeming to understand. 'Nasty stuff,' she murmured. 'You shouldn't read those chapters, Teresa, their rating is for fifth years and up.'

'I know,' Teresa sighed, closing her book.

'What's a marker?' Bagsy asked, her voice as small as Neve's. Teresa and Neve looked at Bagsy, only just now realising she was there. Teresa's fear had ebbed away by now, and something new filled her eyes. It was the kind of look someone had when they peered at a splattered bug with morbid curiosity.