Bagsy Beetlehorn and the Vampire Affairs (The Bagsy Chronicles 4)

A Diseased Confidant

'Sorry, Mr Barnsley,' said Bagsy. 'I have to drop two of my electives...'

It was the next morning and Bagsy had rushed around informing the needed teachers about her dropping out of their subjects.

Mr Barnsley, who taught muggle studies, smiled sympathetically down at her. 'Starrett informed me you might be dropping my subject. It will be a shame to lose you but it's important for students not to be overloaded. Best of luck with everything you're doing.'

Nodding, Bagsy left the Muggle Studies classroom. She really did enjoy Muggle Studies – it was fascinating to learn about the way society worked when magic was missing – but if she was to deal with more horrific sessions with Starrett like the one she'd had yesterday, she wouldn't have time for three electives.

Starrett had told her to drop two of her three, and that she wouldn't have time for quidditch, either. She was determined to continue her quidditch playing, she was sure the team would need her after Ford had left last year, but that would only be possible if she followed Starrett's advice. Of Thaumathletics and Care for Magical Creatures, one subject had to go.

With a heavy heart, Bagsy set off across Hogwarts ground to where Belta Zotova and Professor Mephit were working on erecting a fence.

It wasn't difficult to find them once she reached the edge of the forbidden forest; since last year, a fence twice her height woven with vines and vegetation had been constructed alone the majority of its length. At the parts that were still being built Zotova and Mephit were hard at work.

Mephit was joking around. 'I bet I can lift that,' he said, nodding at an incredibly large log.

Zotova laughed. 'Give it try. We see what the case may be. You may have strong arms but I see only twigs for legs.'

The light of challenge in his eyes, Mephit crouched next to the log, moving the pane of glass that floated in front of his face to the side. His arms were massive but, as Zotova had astutely pointed out, his legs were scrawny.

Mephit braced himself and was about to lift the log when he noticed Bagsy approaching. Letting go, he stood up and gave her a friendly wave. 'Ah, Bagsy! What are you doing out here?'

'Hello,' she said. 'I needed to speak to you, actually.'

Zotova raised an eyebrow. 'What could you possibly want from this oddball of a man?' Even in the fairly mild temperature, the muscly woman had insisted on wearing her many layers of faux furs.

'What is it?' Mephit ignored Zotova's jibe. 'You can tell me anything. Well, not anything. Some things you should keep to yourself. But you can tell me most things. Well, most things so long as most things you want to tell are appropriate things to tell a professor. But, also–'

Fifteen minutes later, when Mephit finishing his rambling, Bagsy found a chance to speak.

'I'm very sorry but as Professor Starrett is giving me extra training this year I will no longer be able to take Care for Magical Creatures.'

Mephit stared down at Bagsy with a blank expression. Then he swallowed thickly and held a hand over his mouth.

'Don't cry, Vage,' said Zotova.

Mephit sniffed. 'I understand, Bagsy. I mean, I don't. My subjects are simply amazing, the best subjects, and I teach them flawlessly. But, I also do understand. You have many things to do and can't fit them all in. But, then again, why you had to choose to drop my subject is–'

Zotova elbowed him in the stomach. 'What Professor Mephit means to say, little malysh, is that it was a pleasure to teach you and he'll miss you from his class, but that he wishes you best.'