It was the fourth and last time Beth and her friends would ride on the Hogwarts express that year. Melissa was nostalgic.
"Three down, four to go," she sighed, as the scarlet steam engine pulled up to the Hogsmeade station and anxious students started to clamber aboard with their luggage. "We'll never have this year back."
"No, we get four more just like it," Bruce grunted, picking up his trunk and heaving it into a compartment. "When's the food cart going to get here? I'm starved."
"You're always starved," Beth teased, lugging her own steamer trunk. "Will winning the Quidditch cup take that much out of you next year?"
"I hope," said Bruce fervently, and both of the girls laughed.
Mervin came and joined them, stumbling over his own parcels. Bruce gave him a hand in loading them above the compartment. "Thanks," he gasped, and slumped into the seat. "No matter what my mother says, I am NOT taking more than four collapsible cauldrons to school next year."
The train pulled out, its long mournful whistle sounding over the clackety-clack of the wheels.
"Going to be interesting, next year," Beth mused. "We'll need a new teacher for D.A.D.A. I can't believe they didn't even have a funeral for Quirrell."
Mervin lowered his voice and leaned forward. "They say there wasn't enough left of him to bury."
Melissa shuddered. "After Grimlet keeled over our first year, then Quirrell -- who'd be fool enough to take the job?"
"Maybe that's good," said Bruce hopefully. "Maybe they'll get some twit to teach it, and we'll all get top marks."
They spent the trip back talking about all that had happened over the year, and how much of it they were going to tell their parents. The consensus was to keep most of it a secret. Since Riggs had mentioned previous Ollivanders and Fletchers in the alumni annals, Melissa and Mervin promised to see as many relatives as they could, to find out which ones they were. "After all," said Melissa reasonably, "what's the point of a society so secret that even the members don't know who's in it?"
They pulled into the station that afternoon, antsy from sitting still and ready to start their summer vacations. The parents and guardians of the students from wizarding families were lined up waiting at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Mervin, lugging his many parcels, was picked up by his Great-Uncle Mundungus, and they swept away on an ancient carpet. Melissa's parents, both slender aristocrats, had arrived on broomstick. With a tap of the wand, they made her luggage vanish (presumably to arrive at home) while Melissa said goodbye to her friends.
"I'll write you, I promise," she told Beth, with a hug. "We're going to Italy this year. Some of the old Italian wizards really lived grandly. Have a good summer!" She climbed onto her mother's broomstick and the three of them soared away.
Bruce gave Beth a handshake as he saw his parents and little sister hustling toward them. "Have a good summer, Beth."
"Going to send me an owl or two this time?" she teased.
Bruce looked guilty. "Probably not."
She patted his arm. "Good boy."
His parents stopped to chat for a few minutes before hurrying Bruce away, clamoring about how crowded the Floo network was going to be.
Muggle parents didn't know how to get to the Hogwarts platform, so it was up to Beth and the others to get back though the invisible partition to the Muggle half of King's Cross Station. Amazing, Beth thought, as she materialized into a world of suits and dresses and briefcases. They don't even notice when fifty kids suddenly appear, one by one, through the wall.
"Bethy!"
Across the platform stood Mr. Parson, leaning on a cane and beaming at his daughter. Beth dropped her trunk and ran up to give him a big hug. "How are you?" they asked simultaneously; then Mr. Parson smiled and said, "I got a cab to take us back. I hope you're up for another long ride."
"I wouldn't mind," said Beth, grinning, and she really didn't.
The taxi cab was the kind with a plastic window between the driver and the back seat. It made Beth feel like she was in a fishbowl. The taxi driver, an impatient-looking fellow, crammed Beth's luggage into the trunk and they whisked away, out of London and across the countryside to Dorset.
"Well!" Mr. Parson said, as the landscape flew by around them. "How's my girl been since Christmas? How were your grades?"
From her satchel, Beth handed over her parchment with class marks. Mr. Parson looked them over and handed them back, beaming. "That's my girl. Your mother would be so proud."
Beth's heart leapt to her throat. Swallowing all her courage, she stammered, "Don't you mean, she will be proud?"
Mr. Parson turned to her with an unreadable expression.
"When you tell her, I mean?"
"Bethy, your mother --" Mr. Parson started carefully.
"Dad, I know she's in Azkaban."
Mr. Parson's lips became thin. His eyes looked both lost and wary.
"And Chris and Lycaeon too. I found out about it this year."
Her father's face worked in a funny way. "How?"
Beth gave a little snorting laugh. "For one, she sent me a letter." She pulled out the large, white feather that she'd gotten on her birthday and handed it to her father, who accepted it with shaking hands. "I saw you sending a letter the night after Christmas, and I couldn't figure out why, but then Professor Snape mentioned that they were all in prison, so I -- thought it might be them." She stopped suddenly, and looked down at her hands. She wanted to apologize. Was he going to be upset?
She felt her father's wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Bethy," Mr. Parson said, in a quiet but steady voice. "I should have told you. But I didn't want you growing up thinking that you were any less because of the mistakes that they made."
"It's true then."
Mr. Parson nodded sadly. "I still send them letters, mostly about how you're doing. It's illegal to contact the prisoners."
"So how do you --"
"I send the messages by bat."
Beth stared. "Bat? So that was -- I thought it was a little bird!"
Mr. Parson shook his head. "A bird could never get through the security. They can't write back, but I think it helps them a little. I get a report on how they're doing every July."
Beth gave a little jump. "The eagle owl, this summer! You said that was junk mail!"
"Yes, I did."
London began to recede into farmland. "I want to write to them," Beth said, looking out the window at the summer fullness.
"I'll introduce you to Mercator, as soon as we get home," Mr. Parson promised.
"Mercator?"
"Our bat. He lives in the hall closet. I'm surprised you haven't seen him yet, he's a feisty little fellow at night."
"I can't wait," said Beth.
And they smiled at each other as the taxi cab took them home.
[Author's Note] Thanks for reading! The sequel to this novel, The Serpent's Society and the Quest for the Heir, is mostly posted on fanfiction.net; it shadows Chamber of Secrets. (And I swear it's better than this one, my beta reader says so.) Any reviews of this novel, especially negative ones, would be greatly appreciated.