[x] Calm down.
Okay. Okay, so the book is talking. Creepy, yes, and not at all what you were expecting -- but in the grand scheme of things, is it really so bad? In a way, all books talk, in that they have words on pages, and those words go into your mind, which is exactly where spoken words go when you hear them...so it's the normal books that are weirder...because hearing things without hearing them is telepathy and that's supposed to be really hard to pull off...
Your thoughts spiral into half-coherent rambling for several minutes as you rest your head on your hand, sinking deeper and deeper into the haze of sleep. Ah, that's right. You did stay up all night, didn't you? What's to say the book actually talked, and you didn't just doze off and dream it? Either way, there's no reason to lose your head. It's only a book, after all. If the talking head is really there and it really is some kind of evil enchantment, Dad will take care of it. And even if he doesn't, you think you're a reasonable judge of character. Certainly one conversation isn't going to put you in any kind of mortal danger. It may even clear up a few things about what you read.
Yes...you'll talk to the book again...later. Once you've had a bit more time...to rest.
The back of your mind itches with a familiar feeling. You're forgetting something, you know you are, but what --
You have to put it back!
Your eyes shoot open, wrenched back from the edge of sleep by the force of that thought. Of course! Maggie took the book from Dad's library -- if it's not there by the time he returns, you will be in ten times more trouble than you already are, and that is saying something. Thank goodness you remembered. All your work would have been for nothing if Tasha or your parents had found you both in here, drooling over your illicitly copied chapters.
"Maggie," you whisper, shaking your sister's shoulder. "Wake up. We have to put the book back."
The younger girl doesn't wake easily. It takes several shakes for her to open her eyes, and you can tell she's not fully awake even then, from the vacant way she looks at you.
"Hmm?" she grumbles, blinking quickly. "I'm sorry, Astrid, I fell asleep. I'll get right back on it..."
"No -- no, don't worry about that. I already finished copying," you say. "You fell asleep two hours ago."
"Two hours...?" she repeats, as though she doesn't quite believe you. When she sees the dull pink spreading across the horizon, however, a bit more light returns to her eyes. Now she's awake. "Oh. I guess I did." She looks at you guiltily. "I'm really sorry. I didn't even realize!"
"It's fine, it's fine," you say, as reassuringly as you can manage. You don't actually mind that much -- you completely understand her fatigue -- and there is a much more important matter on hand that only she can resolve, so you'll be square in a bit anyway. "Can you go run the book back to Dad's library? Are you feeling good enough?"
Maggie nods, though she yawns and rubs at one eye.
"Yeah, I can do it," she says. "Could I borrow your wand, though? It was so dark in the house, I nearly tripped over the furniture. I'm sure I'll be quieter if I can see better."
You're...not sure? Granted, there's not a lot of natural light to see by right now, and she'd only be carrying the wand, not actually using it. Still, the thought of parting with it gives you pause, especially after the disasters that happened from you just touching wands that weren't yours. Not to mention Tasha could see, if she decided to get up a few minutes early to start on the chores.
After remembering how nervous Maggie gets in the dark, though, and how creepy your vast old house can get when there's no light, you give in. It's quite possible that she only wants to fell what it's like to hold a real wand, but you suppose there's no harm. You hand her the wandlight, waiting a few seconds to make sure it doesn't explode in her hand. Thankfully, it doesn't.
"Try to be fast," you say, glancing at the clock on your wall. "It's only a few minutes to six."
"Okay. Don't worry, I won't be long," she replies, hoisting the heavy book to her chest and raising your wand with her free hand. She scampers off without a glance backward, leaving your door open a crack as she goes..
It's a long wait for her return. Longer than you expected, giving what you know of Maggie's agility. It was never going to be instant, since your bedrooms are on the second floor of the house while the library and study are on the first, and it's likely your nerves are playing tricks on you. The stakes are rather high, after all. If Dad catches her, you'll have to fess up to your involvement or suffer a terribly guilty conscience, and he might decide not to give the book back to you at all. Then you'd have nothing but seven wasted galleons and a mystery you'll never get to solve.
You hold your breath -- and wait. And wait. And wait.
Three minutes go by.
Five minutes.
Seven minutes.
At ten minutes, you're wound up enough to go downstairs and see what's taking her so long, but just as you're getting off your bed, Maggie shows up at your door again. Her hand is conspicuously behind her back.
"What took you so long?" you ask, worry fading into a touch of irritation. Seriously, you were going to lose your mind if you had to wait any longer. "Did you get it back to the library?" Maggie bites her lip and shifts from foot to foot -- she's always been terrible at concealing her emotions. Your stomach drops at the sight.
"What's wrong?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.
"I -- I got it back," she finally answers, the arm hidden behind her back tensing. "But when I was coming back, I had to go through the kitchen -- and I heard Tasha coming when I was halfway across -- so I didn't have a choice..."
"A choice about what?" you say, feeling your heartbeat pick up inexplicably. "Did she see you? And why are you hiding my wand behind your back?" You walk a few steps closer and lower your voice even more. "You didn't use it, did you?"
Maggie holds her expression still for a few moments, then shakily thrusts her hand forward. The light on its tip is extinguished.
She starts babbling before you can even react.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Astrid, but I had to put it out. Tasha would have seen me otherwise. I know it's your wand, and you didn't want me to use it at all...I'm sorry. I swear I only cast Nox. Nothing else. And then I ran straight up here," she says, only meeting your eyes after she finishes talking. "Please don't say you're angry."
You open your mouth, too blindsided by this admission to decide what to say -- but you hear tiny, elvish footsteps echoing up the staircase, and you know that getting Maggie back to her room is more important now.
"Tasha's coming," you say, giving your sister a little push to urge her on. "We can talk later."
Obligingly, she turns on her heel and darts from the room, impressively quiet for the speed she manages. You shut your door as soon as she's gone, then stumble over to your bed and collapse.
[ ] You're angry that Maggie used your wand, even if it was just to cast Nox. Couldn't she have just covered the light with her hand, or something? She would have given both of you away if something went wrong! You never should have given it to her in the first place.
[ ] You're not really that angry. Yeah, something could have gone wrong, but it was just Nox. She only did what she had to, and you're a bit impressed that she managed a Charm at her age, even if it's an easy one.
You only have a few minutes of thought before you drift off to blissful, much needed sleep. You dream of talking skulls, spiderwebs, and a man with a snake's head.
"Astrid! You can't still be asleep. It's half noon!"
Blearily, you pick your head up from your pillows, staring at the figure in the doorway as your eyes adjust to the light.
"Sorry, Dad," you say. "Yesterday must've really tired me out." You plop your head back down and pull your covers up to your neck as naturally as you can manage. You didn't actually change out of your day robes, having fallen asleep in them twice, and you know that will look suspicious to your father if he sees. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice.
"Well, don't make a habit of it," he says, quirking one very judgmental eyebrow. "You won't be terribly popular at Hogwarts if you sleep half the day away."
"I won't. Promise," you reply, deciding against a smart comeback that pops into your head. Despite the drama of yesterday, you've mostly let go of your anger at Dad. After all, you did eavesdrop on top secret Auror business after buying a book on the Dark Arts. That probably didn't look good at all, and even you feel bad about the former -- though the jury's still out on the latter. Besides, talking back likely would only get you in worse trouble.
Dad comes a few paces closer and sits down at the edge of your bed.
"Alright, Astrid. Your mother and I talked a great deal about what we should do about yesterday. We both appreciated that you didn't try to lie about anything -- that spared you some punishment, in fact -- but we can't simply ignore what you did," he says, in that stern tone that must come with being a parent. "It was wrong of you to eavesdrop, no matter the reason. And that book is wholly inappropriate for you to read right now. Did you not look inside of it before bringing it to the counter?"
You shrug.
"I already told you why I bought the book," you mumble. "I thought it looked interesting."
"I'm sure it would be, for someone who's older and more experienced with general magic," he says, sighing. "But, as it stands, I can't allow you to read everything that's in there. Judging from the table of contents alone, there's some material you would likely find disturbing, if you understood it at all."
"So you're not going to let me read it?" you say, feigning disappointment. You have to act like you're ignorant, of course. Dad shakes his head, as you knew he would.
"No. I'm going to read over the book myself first, and edit out the parts that are inappropriate," he explains. "I'll unlock them for you again, at some point. Maybe in a few years. For now, though, this will have to do."
You give a dramatic sigh, sinking deeper into your pillows while you think. The lack of worry in his voice all but confirms that he didn't see the hidden chapter. More than that, he hasn't mentioned that the book only seems half-filled either, and that would almost certainly strike him as suspicious in a book about the Dark Arts. So there really must be some kind of enchantment that's preventing him from seeing the second half of the book. Is that something that he'll be able to catch with his magic, you wonder?
Only time will tell.
Dad continues, evidently satisfied with your performance.
"Now, for your actual punishment," he says, straightening. "You, young lady, are grounded to your room. No going outside, no playing with Maggie, no books or games. You may come downstairs for meals, but that's it."
"What?!" You cry out, almost sitting up before remembering that you're hiding something under the covers. Grounded to your room? That's awful! If he takes away your books, there's absolutely nothing to do in here except sit by the window and sulk. A positively inhumane way to end your last two weeks of summer holiday. You're momentarily stunned by your own outrage, but you swallow it for long enough to manage, "For how long?"
"That's entirely up to you," Dad says, solemn. "You're more than welcome to stay grounded for the two weeks leading up to Hogwarts. We'll give you your texts, and you could get a head start on your classes, without all that 'fun' nonsense to distract you." He maintains his grave expression -- then a small smile betrays the fact that he's joking.
"Ha ha," you say, very much not amused. "And the other option is...?"
"Write us an essay," he finishes. "About why what you did was wrong. No half-efforts, either. If it would get you anything less than an O at Hogwarts, you'll stay grounded."
Ugh, really? You groan, turning over so you can look at the floor instead of your smug father. That's such a juvenile punishment. You already understand why eavesdropping on the Head Auror turned out to be a terrible idea -- why do you have to write an essay about it? Not to mention your hand throbs at the mere thought of writing anything else for the next day or so. Those hours of copying really did a number on your poor fingers.
"As I said, you're free to decline the essay," Dad says. You feel the bed shift a bit, so he must have stood up. "But you're stuck in here with your schoolwork until you bring it to us. And you can thank your mother for even giving you that option. I would have grounded you the full two weeks, so you'd have something to think about the next time you're tempted to spy on Aurors."
You don't think he's being honest about that. Mum's always been harsher with punishments than Dad, and you still couldn't see either of them imprisoning you in your room for two weeks and then carting you off to Hogwarts, without spending any time as a family beforehand. He probably just wants to impress upon you the seriousness of what you did -- which you already get, having been interrogated on the spot by the Head Auror, so you think this punishment is absolutely pointless. But there's not a whole lot you can do about it.
You pull the covers up over your head, making muffled sounds of displeasure.
"Oh, come now, Astrid. You'll survive." You hear your cabinet opening and a fresh sheet of parchment rolling out, followed by the thump of an inkwell hitting the desktop. He definitely used magic for that, since you didn't hear any footsteps accompanying those sounds. "Tasha will bring up your textbooks. And a bit of lunch, since you slept your way through it. Your Mum and I will excitedly wait your essay whenever it's complete."
With that, he walks out of the room, shutting your door as he leaves.
...you suppose you could have gotten off a lot worse than you did.
[ ] It is Sunday, August 21st. Write in this week's schedule.
[ ] Let the QM create this week's schedule.
