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

A Missing Mole-Man

As soon as Bagsy arrived at the library nook, which was a cosy dark colour from the blackness of night outside and the amber of the few torches lighting it, Mezrielda had slammed a newspaper down onto the table.

'What did Tod do?' Bagsy asked worriedly, hurrying over and dropping her bag as she reached the table.

'Not Tod,' Mezrielda grit out.

Bagsy scanned the article. The owner of Hoohsair, the mole-like man who liked to sell items in exchange for ideas, had been found dead in a valley near Hogsmeade village. The Grey Eyed Reaper Returns the paper's title declared brazenly. The man had been found with paled skin, grey and black veins that were hard to the touch and eyes misted over and staring at the sky "as if asking why this had happened to him", the article embellished.

'That's got to be him,' Bagsy let out fearfully. 'He's still here – the breathing blight.'

'My guess is, whoever he is, he's settled here, and intends to stay.'

'He has to be a part of the acting troupe,' Bagsy emphasised. 'It's too much of a coincidence.'

'Actually,' Mezrielda countered, pointing at one sentence of the article. Concerned, Bagsy scanned over it. 'They reckon the man was killed the day the first Vampire Affairs episode was released.'

'But then... how...?'

'He can't be in the acting troupe. They all have alibies.'

Bagsy shook her head. 'No. There's some mistake. Why else would the killings have followed the acting troupe here, to the UK?'

Mezrielda shrugged. 'Who knows.'

Noticing a red fingerprint on the paper, Bagsy tilted her head in interest. 'What's that?'

Quickly, Mezrielda hid her hands behind her back. Bagsy fixed her with a look. Sighing, Mezrielda moved her arms in front of her, turning her palms over. They were blood red. 'More dye-charms.'

Fuming, Bagsy clenched a fist. 'Primrose?'

'No. She's too scared of being kicked off the quidditch team. It was some random Ravenclaws. They thought it was amusing, I imagine.'

Bagsy searched through her bag. 'I think I remember the potion Blythurst told me last time. I'll brew it again for you.'

'It's alright,' said Mezrielda. 'I'm used to it.'

'You shouldn't be!' she burst out in response. 'It's not right!'

'There's nothing I can do about it.'

Bagsy paused, breathing heavily. 'Mezrielda, please, let me try and teach you spells again.'

Her friend's eyes narrowed to slits. 'No. I've already told you – it's a waste of time.'

'Hear me out,' Bagsy continued desperately. 'I cast a spell. I cast the protego charm. Give me a little longer to get it right, and then I promise I can teach it to you.'

That seemed to confuse Mezrielda. 'What does that have to do with it?'

'L-last time I offered you said you didn't think I would be able to teach you spells because I couldn't cast them myself.'

Anger found itself on Mezrielda's face, then. 'I'd never say that! I meant that...' Her voice faded, a look of deep shame spreading on her face. 'I meant that I'd find it difficult to learn from you, because...' She couldn't say it, but Bagsy finally understood.

Mezrielda was humiliated by how little she knew, and how little she could do. She'd gone from being the one who knew all the spells, had all the power, and had done all the protecting, and now it was entirely reversed. Bagsy felt a rush of relief that it had been nothing to do with her own spellcasting ability.