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Omissions
Author: Minerva McGonagall
Date: 04-07-13 09:12
Professor McGonagall rose early and quickly got ready, dressing herself in a velvet robe so deep a green it nearly looked black. She ran her fingers over her hair, smoothing out a kink that had formed when she'd pulled the fine strands into a bun. She pushed her glasses up the brim of her nose and then set out for her office.
It had become her routine to spend a little time before breakfast responding to letters or handling other administrative duties, of which there were many. Yesterday's news article on Professor Masterson had already brought about a flurry of letters from concerned parents and busy-bodies without any ties to the school whatsoever.
While it was true that Lawrence shouldn't have carried on his relationship with Ariella after learning he would be her teacher, Rita Skeeter had once again omitted certain facts that would have made the article far less sensational. Her constant commentary on how Professor Dumbledore had been behind the appointments of so many terrible teachers could not apply with Lawrence.
Lawrence had been one of a handful of new staff members hired during the regime of former Minister of Magic Euphemia Smythe-Jones, when the student body at Hogwarts had become segregated between Pures and Nons. Of course, Professor Dumbledore had given him his position back after Professor Snider had summarily relieved Lawrence of his position as Herbology professor, following the discovery of his ongoing relationship with his own student, Ariella.
How convenient it was for Rita Skeeter to leave out pertinent details when it suited her own agenda, which seemed to consist of hating on Albus Dumbledore, who couldn't even defend himself. Professor McGonagall glanced up at his portrait and observed him shift to a more comfortable position in the high-backed chair in which he napped. The steady rise and fall of his chest was oddly reassuring, even though Minerva knew he wasn't actually alive.
Her gaze dropped to the news article from yesterday and then to the stack of letters not yet answered on her desk. She decided she would fix a cup of tea using the Scottish teapot from Baron Marchbanks, respond to several letters, and then go to the Great Hall for a little breakfast.
(Adriana) Admonishment
Author: Bill Weasley
Date: 04-07-13 10:46
"You rang?"
Adriana turned away from the pair of lyre-backed side chairs Hans Freitag had procured for one of the bare rooms in the old abbey and assessed the speaker. Christina Sorcha stood in the doorway, moving a New York City Subway token between the fingers of her right hand. The dexterity with which it traveled from one finger to the next showed Adriana just how perfect Sorcha was for thieving. Adriana imagined that Sorcha's sleight of hand was probably a big hit with her son when they played games together.
She smiled evilly and stepped closer to her servant. "Did you think I wouldn't find out, Christina?"
Sorcha had naturally pale skin, but it visibly blanced at Adriana's query.
"What are you talking about, Adriana?" she asked. "I've been doing exactly what you've asked of me. I infiltrated the Ministry, I found someone on the inside who will help you. I know I haven't gotten all the information you've requested, but I am looking."
"I'm not talking about any of that," Adriana curtly replied. "In terms of your duties, you have not yet disappointed me. I'm talking about the package you sent to your son. Did you honestly think I wouldn't find out about that?"
Although it appeared impossible, Sorcha's face grew even paler. "I didn't tell him anything," she whispered. "Please, don't hurt him."
Adriana turned her back on Sorcha and walked to one of the chairs. The wood frame was a combination of mahogany, ash and poplar, and the fabric of the seat was a rich green brocade. Adriana sat down and demurely crossed her ankles. She fixed her eyes on Sorcha and said, "Consider yourself very lucky, Christina."
Sorcha felt some of the tension ease out of her body, but only a small amount. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I only wanted to back up the cover story I had given my family. I wanted him to hear it from me personally, since I left so abruptly..."
"And so he did," Adriana responded. "I was kind and had the package rerouted after I intercepted it and reviewed its contents."
"Thank you," Sorcha breathlessly whispered. "I'm sorry," she said again.
"I hope this serves as a reminder that I am always watching you," Adriana said. "If you cross me––"
"I won't. I know what's at stake," Sorcha interrupted. "Can I go back to work now?"
Adriana waved her hand. "Go. Make sure our friend does his job or I won't lift a finger when it comes to his own demands."
Sorcha suddenly looked very confident. "He's very determined."
"Good."
When Sorcha didn't immediately budge, Adriana raised an eyebrow. "Is there something else, Christina?"
"No. I'm leaving now." With that, she stepped out of the doorway and disappeared to a place where she could safely disapparate.
Injured
Author: Charlie Weasley
Date: 04-07-13 12:11
Kellan MacFusty walks into the small room where Charlie is sitting on a cot cradling one arm as Blythe Mumps exams an open wound on his leg. "How's the patient?"
Without looking up Blythe responds, "My specialty is not humans but I do believe Charlie will live."
Lips drawn into a tight, grim smile, Charlie says through gritted teeth, "Could be worse but it shouldn't have happened."
Sighing Kellan pulls a stool near to the cot, careful not to block Blythe's light. "I know. I know. Everyone there is making a statement. You'll need to make an official report as well. We'll get a better picture of exactly what happened and go from there."
"What happened is she's incompetent. It's the fourth accident she's directly or indirectly caused since starting."
Another sigh, even heavier than the first. Kellan repeats, "I know," before reminding, "the council hired her with my father pushing for the support. I can't fire her without taking things up with him. Even if the rest of the council agrees with me, he's going to be a hard sell."
Blythe gently pats Charlie's leg. "Clean of debris but nevertheless we should get you to St. Mungo's. They're better suited for human needs than I am." She turns to look directly at Kellan, asking of her father-in-law, "What, exactly, is his attraction to her? She's not overly pretty. As yet, she's not dazzled anyone with her brilliance or her competence."
"No idea. If I did know, that would be useful." Lumbering up from the stool he holds out a hand to Charlie. "Come on. Let's get you to St. Mungo's. You can give me your version of what happened while we wait for a healer to see you."
"You know what happened," Charlie grumbles, accepting the proffered hand.
"But I have to do it right, officially. If I don't, Dad won't want to listen. You know what a stickler he is and if he won't listen then the council won't listen."
"I wish the council, meaning your father, would let us operate as we have without interference. They aren't here to know what we need or what's best," Blythe comments.
"You're preaching to the choir," Kellan grimaces as he takes much of Charlie's weight. "Side along apparition fine with you?"
"Quickest and easiest," Charlie agrees.
Seconds later he's being helped to an exam table and being told a healer will be with him shortly and a nurse starts checking his leg despite being told the wound's been clean. Another nurse palpates Charlie's arm and shoulder while Kellan patiently waits for him to go over his version of what took place, the whole while Charlie is thinking he should have gone to St. Emrys today after all. Term starts next week and he often spends much of the week before a term begins on campus in case he's needed to sign off on last minute course changes.
(Asher) Moody
Author: Jolyon
Date: 04-07-13 13:39
Asher was the first one out the door when Professor Flitwick dismissed his Hufflepuff and Slytherin first year students. He didn't even wait for Bruno or Malden to join him and instead hurriedly pressed on toward his destination.
Ever since learning the truth about his father––that he indeed existed and that there was not only a name to the wizard, but a face too––Asher felt angry. An almost microscopic part of him knew that it wasn't Jolyon's fault that he hadn't been in his children's lives. He hadn't known they'd even existed until recently.
And yet the biggest part of Asher didn't care. Who was Jolyon Kent to suddenly insert himself into their lives? They had done fine without him all these years. Asher didn't understand why Arielle was so quick to love him, or why she still hadn't forgiven their mother for keeping Jolyon out of their lives.
He stomped down two flights of stairs, narrowly avoiding an unexpected change in direction on the last set, which would have forced him to take a much longer route to his next class. It swung away from the landing the moment he stepped off the last step, creating a forceful gust of wind that caused the hem of his robes to snap against his ankles.
"Careful, young man!" called out a bearded wizard from one of the portraits. "Pay attention or you might fall and break your neck!"
Asher shot the portrait a dirty look and stepped through a portal to the hallway where his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was. He was very early. He didn't want to take his seat yet, since the only other person in the classroom was his professor. Instead, he leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, resting his arms on his knees.
He had thought about putting on the Slytherin trainers he had gotten for Christmas from his Secret Santa, since they technically matched his outfit, but he'd thought better of it since they didn't belong to his uniform. Asher didn't want to lose any House Points if he could avoid it. He was already in a bad mood and didn't need the loss of points for something he did making him even moodier.
He stared at his shoe laces and stewed over his family's drama. Asher had gotten used to being the only man in his mother's life. It was somewhat irrational for him to think that he had to compete with Jolyon now, but he couldn't help but think that way. Never mind the fact that his parents had divorced before he and Arielle had even been born.
He felt a presence standing over him and looked up to see Arielle in her Gryffindor garb. She held a drawstring sack in her hand, which carried all her books and school supplies, though it didn't look like it could.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked him. "Are you sick?"
Asher scowled and got to his feet. He was slightly taller than her. "No, and what do you care?"
"Sorry for asking," she said, and she stepped into the classroom. Other Gryffindors and the Slytherins Asher had left behind in the Charms classroom had begun arriving. They passed him as they entered the classroom. When Bruno and Malden arrived, they raised their eyebrows at him but didn't ask him what was the matter. They already knew.
He scowled again and then brushed past them to enter the DADA classroom. He wasn't sure what they would be learning about today, since he hadn't paid much attention to the syllabus discussed during Tuesday's class meeting. Asher hoped the lesson involved dark and evil curses. Maybe he could practice them on his stupid sister.
Splitting Headache
Author: Jet
Date: 04-07-13 14:27
The headache of the sort the feels like a hammer is repeatedly striking his skull that has been persistently present since Emerson began doing whatever it is she thinks she's doing has Jet splayed on the narrow bed, too lethargic to even want to bother with making the short trip to the tiny lavatory to relieve the growing pressure in his bladder. Not yet defeated to the point of soiling himself and then not caring about it after another second Jet forces himself to rise. Feeling more than a little decrepit his bent shamble to the toilet takes longer than the distance from bed to lavatory is normally covered. When finished, he half-heartedly washes his hands then turns to make the return trip, wincing as another bolt of sharp pain lances his skull. A step beyond the little room has Jet sliding down the wall, thinking this spot is as good a resting place as any.
An indeterminate amount of time later - looking at the wall clock requires far too much energy - he hears footsteps approaching the top of the stairs. The door opening then closing is followed by those same feet spryly bounding down the steps and a chipper voice stating, "Lovely day, isn't it, Jet?"
Emerson must not have been expecting him to actually bother answering such a supremely stupid comment because his lack of response garners nothing from her. Out of the corner of his eye he can see her approaching the line marking the invisible barrier. Seeing him sitting against the wall near the lavatory door, no reaction whatsoever to her presence she asks with seeming concern, "Are you ill?"
Jet turns his head to look her way, a move that causes another sharp stab of pain. "Yes, thoroughly sick of you."
"That's not a very nice thing to say," she tells him, feigning hurt.
"That's about the nicest thing there is to say about you so consider it a compliment."
Emerson makes a tsking noise, even going so far to waggle a finger at him. "I know your head is splitting and your muscles are overly fatigued and most likely feel battered and bruised but it's your own fault really. If you had been cooperative from the start, Jet, we might be done here, your lovely mind wiped of any of this, and you back in your own snug bed or off nattering with that idiot Petra."
Jet's chuckle is dark and harsh. "That's right. Blame me for your sins. Isn't that always the way with people like you."
Emerson crosses the barrier, not worried in the slightest that Jet will try something though she does make sure her wand is out of reach. Crouching beside him, she puts one arm around her shoulders then forcibly hoists him up. A shuffling walk to the bed follows where she deposits him. "I had come to give you a potion that should make you feel better and to give you a day off but if you're going to be nasty to me, we can just get on with things. We're very close to a breakthrough, I just know it."
"Sure you are. Is it hard to keep telling yourself that when you must know by know I was telling the truth, there's nothing there to find?"
Emerson pats his arms then, to Jet's annoyance, gives him a loud smooch on one cheek. "I always have loved your humor."
"That's me. A laugh a minute."
Emerson presses a vial into his palm. "Drink all of this in one go. Within the hour you should feel improved and by tomorrow you should be nearly one hundred percent again for when we proceed with locating that key."
"Joy."
Emerson offers a smile. "Back in a bit with something to eat. Curry sound good?"
"May I see a menu?"
She giggles and gives him another peck. "Later, luv."
Emerson recrosses the barrier and practically springs up the stairs, humming some pop tune. Jet follows her progress. He'd thinking about all the ways he'd get back at her for all this if his head didn't hurt so much. Unstoppering the vial he downs the contents in a gulp then letting the vial drop to the floor he settles back on the bed fervently hoping whatever the potion is kicks in soon. If it doesn't he may resort to bashing his head against something just to distract him from the pain already there. But, no, maybe not. Head bashing requires energy, which is something he's rather lacking at the moment.
Spur Of The Moment Is Rare
Author: Blossom
Date: 04-07-13 19:16
"You're the owner. You can take a vacation any time you wish."
Blossom looks at her grandfather with exasperation. "As a successful businessman, you know that's not true."
Dexter Pierpont's lips purse with displeasure. "It's a daycare. A games center. That's hardly the high pressured atmosphere of my corporation."
"Don't forget a primary school; and, regardless of what you think there is a great deal of stress and pressure. A great deal of organization and planning."
"I know you take time off."
"Yes, I do but rarely is it spur of the moment. Not with my business, Fred's two shop's, and five children."
"Is it wrong I wish for you to visit?"
"No, of course not, but we were just there."
"So let's plan the next one."
"We will, Granddad, just not this very second. You see this stack? It's all the resumés I have to pare down. Once that's done I have to arrange interviews for the ones that make the cut."
"Why?" Realizing how vague a question that is Dexter elaborates. "Why are you going over resumés?"
"We'll need more staff for the primary school and the daycare soon. I want qualified staff to give our children the best prepratory education we can give."
Dexter doesn't look happy to have his vacation planning put on hold but his expression shifts to a smile. "You know I'm proud of you? Always have been, even when you didn't think I was."
Blossom returns his smile and reaches out to take his hand. "I know, Granddad. You know, I might not be able to take off spur of the moment right now but I can take some time for lunch. Let me treat you?"
Putting on the gruff voice he's used often over the years but still smiling he squeezes her hand. "About time someone else offered to pay."
Distracted
Author: Christina Sorcha
Date: 04-08-13 03:27
"Dierna?"
Sorcha's mind kept replaying her meeting with Adriana over and over in her mind. On one hand, it was nice to know Theo received his present. However, the very fact that Adriana had intercepted it first was troubling. It was a good thing that she had not included anything outside of her cover.
"Dierna!?"
Knowing Adriana was aware of the package meant that there was no chance of asking for help. There really was no escape for Sorcha. She would have to do Adriana's dirty bidding for the time being. She was truly trapped, no way out, no hope of rescue…
A hand came down on her shoulder, causing Sorcha to jump. "Dierna? Are you ok?"
"Hmm? Oh! Yeah, I'm fine," Sorcha answered, "Just, got lost in thought."
"It's amazing, how you can be so lost in thought, and still not walk into something. Most people end up tripping on something, bashing a toe or something." Olivia tended to be a chatterbox, and had decided her and 'Dierna' were friends. She had been working as a Maintenance Witch for a few years, and had been unintentionally helpful to furthering Sorcha's work.
"I just got lucky it's a straight corridor."
"That's true, it is straight… I asked if you had seen the paper yesterday. Makes me glad my daughter isn't old enough to attend Hogwarts..."
"Hogwarts? What about it?" Sorcha interrupted.
"It was all over The Daily Prophet. I'm surprised you didn't see it. Not to mention everyone was talking about it yesterday, after all..."
"What was it?"
"One of the teachers there seduces his students! The old Headmaster, Dumbledore knew it too! Hired him anyways. When my daughter is old enough to go, I won't let her go there, no way."
"Which professor?" Sorcha asked.
"Hmm... Lawrence Masterson I think the name was. Yes, that was it. He seduced, then married one of his students! Ariella, I heard she works here somewhere too! It seems he likes to prey on..."
Sorcha tuned her out, letting her rant on. Masterson… It took a little bit but Sorcha did remember him. He had been a student of hers once. For three years of the four years she taught there. He had seemed like a nice young man back then. She vaguely remembered a young lady by the name of Ariella in one of her classes, but couldn't remember her well enough.
"You're doing it again?"
"Hmm?"
"Getting lost in your head. Are you sure you're ok? You seem really distracted. You must have a very active mind, to get lost so often. I don't remember you being so easily distracted. You sure you're ok?"
"Yeah, just thinking about how they could let someone like that near little kids."
"I know, it's terrible. Mark my words, if you ever have children, don't let them go to that crazy school. Bad people work there."
"They can't be all bad…" Her mind turned to Theo for a moment.
"Known followers of You-Know-Who, murderers, now pedophiles? There are bad people working there, teaching the children who knows what..."
Sorcha was in no real position to defend the professors, not with the events from a decade ago going through her mind. When The Old Hag had been on the loose...
Sorcha was knocked back to reality when she hit a solid object. She bounced off the object, managed to keep her footing, and found herself face to face with an understandably upset young lady. Sorcha took a step back, to put a little distance between them, then another half-step when she realized it was Desdemona Diamond, her former student, and Reed's target.
"I'm... I'm..." Sorcha stammered not sure what to say, her mind having gone blank. Desdemona eyed Sorcha, but said nothing.
"Oh, you'll have to forgive Dierna, she's been rather distracted since she came in this afternoon," Olivia said on Sorcha's behalf.
Sorcha glanced at Olivia, and back at the colorful auror. "Yes, I'm sorry," Sorcha apologized, and looked to the floor.
There was a pause, "It's ok." Sorcha slowly looked up at Desdemona who continued to eye her for a moment, before she turned and walked away.
A soon as the auror had turned the corner Olivia moved in front of Sorcha, "Are you ok? It looked like you hit her rather hard. I told you that you should pay attention when you're walking. You're lucky you know, I heard that she beat up someone in Legal once! Just for talking to her! Who knows what she could have done to you for running into her! You're lucky I was here, or she might have hurt you!
"Her parents should have raised her better. What kind of loving parents let their daughter dress like that? They must have been neglectful parents. Didn't love her enough when she was growing up. I won't let my daughter be like that. I'm not going to let her run off and get tattoos and stuff like that."
As Olivia prattled on, Sorcha glanced into the break room Desdemona had stepped out of. She hid the smile that tried to force its way forward when she saw a rather unhappy young man and his bodyguard. He had heard every word Olivia had said, and was none too pleased.
The Cat
Author: Sophie McCourt
Date: 04-08-13 04:26
"Here, kitty, kitty…"
Sophie walked around the school grounds, her head moving from left to right as her eyes searched in the green vegetation for any signs of the gray cat that she has been chasing.
Caleb followed her a few meters away. He adjusted his scarf and rubbed his arms with his hands, trying to warm up a little bit. The pale winter sun that illuminated the grounds wasn't enough to melt the snow. Sophie ignored the cold as she called the cat again. The animal must be around here, somewhere, she thought.
"You can't hide forever, kitty. I am going to catch you, you know?"
"The cat doesn't understand you!" Caleb said out loud. He had stopped following her and he was stomping his feet on the ground, another attempt to warn up. "We can try and find it later. Why don't we go inside to the common commons? We could do some homework…"
"There's plenty of time for that later, Caleb. We have tomorrow and the weekend. Why in a rush? Besides I don't want the poor fellow to freeze to death."
There was a movement in a bush but it was nothing but a rabbit that quickly hide again. Sophie wondered if instead of the cat she could try and chase the rabbit. But she knew probably the animal had a place to live and a family. While the cat on the other hand looked lonely. But Caleb seemed to disagree with her.
"What if it belongs to another student?"
"No. The cat was skinny. And it wouldn't be out here, in the cold, would it?"
"Maybe it ran away and it doesn't know how to return…Besides I'm sure the cat can handle itself. We can search it another time, when the weather is better. Maybe we can even go to the kitchens and ask the house elves for some milk."
Caleb's words of consolation didn't have the desired effect on Sophie. Instead she decided to double the efforts to find the cat. Her friend didn't seem to hold much longer in the cold and he excused himself walking away back to the castle.
"Coward!" she told him, when he was nothing more but a spot in the horizon.
Sophie continued the search. She had no idea what she would do if she found herself in the possession of the cat. Her father wouldn't allow her to have a pet because Honoria, his fiancée, did not like animals. It was one of the things Sophie had learned about the pale little creature with fair light hair that one day would be her stepmother.
Honoria was like a porcelain doll that needed to be treated carefully because it could be broken at any moment. At least that was how Sophie saw her, with her delicate robes and her well mannered speech, as she used her wand to serve Sophie with some more tea and cupcakes. Honoria had no job and it was clear to Sophie that besides working on her upcoming marriage event, she had came up with another project that was of turning her future stepdaughter into a more presentable young witch. She had wrinkled her nose in disapproval when she learned about Sophie's preference for trousers instead of dresses and she had insisted on braiding her dark hair once. Sophie knew Honoria was filled with good intentions, but she couldn't help herself to dislike all this.
"Where are you?" she called again. But there was no answer from the cat.
She kept looking for twenty more minutes and she finally gave up, when her attention turned to the group of seven students with green robes, holding their broomsticks that passed by her. Sophie recognized them as the Slytherin Quidditch team, probably on their way to the pitch to practice. She had never watched any of the teams doing so and she was curious.
Sophie followed them at a distance and she was disappointed when she noticed the pitch was interdicted to every student that was not part of the team, or not invited by any of its members. She was not surprised by this; this measure was to provide the players a quiet training and also to avoid spies from other houses who could reveal the team's strategies to their opponents.
There was a noise on her left and Sophie saw three boys from Slytherin, trying to take a sneak peek into the pitch. Sophie recognized one of them as being Bruno Tate, a boy from her year. The other two boys looked older. It seemed like Bruno had found a hole to peek, but the other boys started to compete with him for the spot.
"I found it first, Maurice!" Bruno protested.
Maurice just used his force to push him aside. Bruno fell on the snow. The third boy and Maurice were now fighting with each other. Meanwhile Sophie helped Bruno to stand.
"Ooooh, is she your boyfriend, Tate?"
"Shut up Horace!" Bruno then looked at Sophie. "I didn't ask for your help did I? I could have stood up on my own."
Sophie, who was expecting to hear a thank you, looked at Bruno and then she pushed him back into the snow.
"Then in that case you can do so!"
And she walked back into the castle with large steps as she heard Maurice and Horace laughing at Bruno. In her fury she didn't notice the gray cat, lying on the snow, a few meters away looking at her.
Desperation
Author: Ella
Date: 04-08-13 18:29
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Francis asked Dunstan, as they stood on the front stoop of Zane Rosier's home in Leigh-on-Sea. Between the two of them, Dunstan had always been the more level-headed when it came to Ella's current situation. Her father had gradually become more hyperaware of the seriousness of her predicament and now seemed to border on desperation to bring her to safety.
"What other choice do we have?" he asked, gazing up at the younger wizard with an almost crazed look in his eyes. He was bent over in front of the lock on the front door and jabbed his wand at it, as if it were a lock-pick and not a crafted piece of wood too large for the keyhole.
"He's moved her out, hidden her away. I bet they left the moment we walked out of this house the last time," Dunstan concluded. "Hold the light higher, if you please."
The last time of which he spoke hadn't actually been their last visit to the house. Dunstan and Francis had made repeated trips there to see Ella, only to discover no one home and the place virtually abandoned. Through the window they could make out furniture, so they knew Zane hadn't packed up and cleared out completely. They surmised he was avoiding future encounters with them in an effort to keep Ella to himself.
"Don't you think it would be best if we get the authorities involved?" Francis asked, raising his wand aloft. A glow lit the end of his wand, providing light to Dunstan and the locking mechanism of the door.
"You know what they will say. Ella is an adult, free to make her own choices. For all we know, she has willingly gone off with him," Dunstan replied before resuming his frantic jabbing at the lock.
"You don't know she made any choice willingly," Francis retorted. "I know you believe that. If you didn't, then you wouldn't be standing here trying to break into Zane's house."
"I'm willing to get myself into trouble if it means helping my only child," Dunstan said. "Now will you help me or not?"
Francis looked resigned and turned to make sure nobody was watching them. Night had fallen a couple of hours ago, but the light emanating from the tip of his wand served like a beacon. A moth unusually hardy to the bitter cold flapped around it, searching for a place to perch.
Francis waved it away and replied, "Yes, I will help you. I want to get Ella away from that freak."
Dunstan waved his wand at the door and muttered under his breath. Finally, he stood upright, exclaimed, "Hang it all!, and kicked at the door with all his strength. To his surprise, the wood splintered slightly. The door, affected by the sea air, had weakend and warped somewhat.
Dunstan exchanged a look with Francis and suddenly feeling energized, kicked at the door again. The third time was the charm. The door kicked in, revealing an empty, dusty house.
"Go on," Francis whispered. "I've got your back."
Dunstan took a deep breath, stepped forward, and unexpectedly plunged through the floorboards to the cellar below. Francis gasped and fell to his knees, peering down into the darkness. He thrust his wand arm into the gaping hole in the floor to project light onto the chaos below. Dunstan lay on his back with a dazed expression on his face and a sharp piece of metal protruding from his torso.