Harry lead Esme and Sirius around the woods for about two hours. He had been lost the first time he had found the hollow tree, so it was hard to backtrack. Hermione’s markers had long since burned out. Harry scanned the treetops, looking for dead limbs and red sparks, but there was nothing. Esme’s arm was still glowing purple, but she was being careful with it. Sirius was keeping a close eye on her. She was pale, but chipper.
“So it’s a chimney we’re looking for then?” she asked, stumbling over a tree root while looking upwards. Sirius grabbed her good arm to steady her.
“A big hollow tree, really,” Harry sighed. “I’m pretty sure it’s near here...”
“I wonder,” Sirius said suddenly. “We’re not far from the cave where the Morthahg was. There were other tunnels. If this place is in a cave, would they be joined? I remember seeing a glow down one, when we were looking for you.” He poked Esme in the side, hitting a ticklish spot. She eeked and flinched.
“I followed Ficus into a cave,” she said. “With the Bind in me, I didn’t dare fight him.”
“Why did you leave the coat?” he asked her.
“Some ichlings ambushed me,” she sighed. “You had my rings so I couldn’t fight them. They grabbed my coat and I just shrugged out of it and ran. I ran into Ficus and he didn’t recognize me in the dark. He ran and then the wolves caught up with him a little before I ran into you.”
“I saw a fire down one tunnel when I was down there,” Sirius said. “Could that have been Weiss’ fire?”
“It could be,” Harry yawned and rubbed at one of his eyes. Running around in the middle of the night wasn’t getting an easier. “It can’t be worse than wandering around like this.”
“Which way did Ficus go underground?” Sirius asked Esme. She shrugged. “You said you followed him.” he reminded her.
“He got away from me,” she admitted. “I tried to Apparate after him and couldn’t. This place is warded against all kinds of magic. I finally remembered a traveling spell that worked, but I ended up underground in a completely different spot.”
“Did you have a porkchop?” he asked, just to push her buttons. She narrowed her eyes threateningly, but smiled.
“No, Mr. SmartyPants, I didn’t,” she sniffed. “The downside to having Lorelei speaking to me again is that she never figured out the whole ‘If you can’t say something nice, keep your big mouth shut’ rule.” Sirius chuckled and begin to lead the way to the fake rock over the stairs. He changed to Padfoot to help remember the trail by scent. Tanner had lead the way last time, but Sirius was able to find the trail.
He raised the false rock and they all crept carefully down the stairs. There were still a few glowing flitters in the big room. A sad little wailing could be heard down one corridor. As Sirius led them back the way he had gone last time, it got louder. The firelight he had seen then was weaker, and they were soon at the room where Harry had met Weiss. The ichlings were gathered in the room, weeping and wailing. Weiss was nowhere to be seen, but his oven mitts were being clutched by the largest ichling.
“He’s gone,” Harry said, looking around. “Do you think that he was killed when his physical form was?” The ichlings sobbed even louder. Esme looked baffled, but then spotted her coat. A few of the smaller ichlings were nesting in it. She grabbed the edges and tossed them off of it.
“Would this bunch be in mourning if he hadn’t?” she asked. She dumped Lorelei’s coat off for them to lay on and put her old coat back on with a pleased expression. She started going through all of Weiss’ shelves and cabinets, looking for the World’s Door. Harry knelt down to try to talk to the ichlings. They stopped their noise to look at him sadly. The large one rocked back and forth clutching the mitts.
“Do you know where Weiss is?” he asked them. They all looked at him, odd-colored tears leaking from their mismatched eyes. There was a sniffle from one of them and then they all started bawling again. Sirius shied away from them and went to help Esme search.
“What does it look like?” he asked her. “If I grab it by mistake, I won’t be transported anywhere will I?”
“Not unless you have my blood on your hands,” Esme told him. “It looks like a big, antique key.” Harry tried to get something out of the ichlings, but they only crawled, weeping, into his lap. Finally, he gave up and helped ransack the little office. After a few hours of this, they had a pile of Weiss’ junk in the middle of a bare room.
“No keys,” Harry reported, pulling an especially clingy ichling off his leg.
“No,” sighed Esme. “I hope Lorey had better luck.”
“Let’s go see,” Sirius said, dusting off his hands. They backtracked through the tunnels and found their way back out. Dawn was still a good while coming, but a brightness was growing in the east. The ichlings followed Harry in a sad little parade. The woods were no cheerier. There were dead magical creatures everywhere. There were clusters of dead bundimuns scattered around like moss. Esme blamed it on the Morthahg being loose in the forest. Harry was glad that it only seemed to be small creatures. He couldn’t bear to think about what the Morthahg would do to a centaur or unicorn.
“I hope Hagrid and his animals are all right...” he said.
“Go check,” suggested Esme. “We’ll meet you back inside.” Sirius nodded, so Harry jogged off towards Hagrid’s cottage.
Meanwhile, Snape and Lorelei had delivered Raye to Professor McGonagall. The girl was still stunned by what had happened and went along without protest. Lorelei led the way to Ficus’ chamber. She was describing the World’s Door to Snape when they were cornered by the Ministry of Magic official in gray.
“Just the young lady we wanted to see,” he said. “Ms. Zephyr, isn’t it? I am Marcus Glenn and I need to discuss this whole Morthahg business with you.” Lorelei started to speak, but Marcus began to talk again, interrupting her. He blathered on for a while about family curses and was in the middle of a story about a family he knew that had a minor demon imprisoned in the well behind their house when Lorelei caught on.
“You think we were KEEPING the Morthahg??” she sputtered. “That’s absurd!”
“I have been told by the Elmskill faculty that the creature was released by one of your family’s famous keyports,” he said. “One that only your family can use?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Ms. Zephyr, you are not being accused,” Marcus said kindly. “You have obviously been a victim of this whole situation.” Ice began to form in Lorelei’s aura. Having been around her long enough to recognize some of her moods, Snape stayed quiet.
“Mr. Glen,” said Lorelei and he stopped talking. A cold ripple of power lay underneath Lorelei’s voice and she took a step closer to the gray man to stare him in the eye. “I can’t talk about this anymore. I need my medicine.”
“Well, of course!” Marcus stammered. He turned to Snape to break the icy stare. “Perhaps the Potionsmaster will fetch it for you.”
“Perhaps,” Snape said, glancing at Lorelei. She just barely tossed her head towards Ficus’ door and raised one eyebrow. Snape ducked his chin a fraction to acknowledge that and then gave them both a much more obvious nod before sweeping away down the hall. Lorelei braced herself and turned back to Marcus, stepping to block his view of which hallway Snape turned down.
“Now then,” she said. “Exactly what is the Ministry’s plan for the Morthahg?”
Out of sight down the corridor, Snape crept to Ficus’ room and closed the door quietly behind him. The small room was perfectly neat and smelled like the strange cigarettes the Headmaster had liked. Snape wasn’t sure where to start, but a large wardrobe with the Elmskill crest on it caught his eye. He opened up the drawers one at a time and tried to quietly go through the contents. Twice, a sound in the hall made him jump and look at the door, but the knob never turned. Halfway through the fourth drawer, a rattle came from the wash basin by the mirror. Snape eyed it carefully and stepped closer.
The inside of the basin was visible in the mirror. A ripple appeared in the reflected surface, but the water in the basin was still. Snape stopped where he was and readied his wand. There was a long count of perfect stillness and then the bat-winged ichling sprang from the mirror. It wasn’t expecting to see Snape and skittered to a halt, baring its fangs at him in a hiss. He cast a spell that sent it flying across the room, but it recovered before he could capture it and leaped at him. It wrapped around his wand hand and sank its teeth into Snape’s thumb. He cursed and flung it off. It took to the air with its greasy wings.
The ichling, created and enslaved by a wizard, knew about magic. It fluttered close around him, staying at too close a range for him to use any attack spells on it. Snape tucked the wand back up into his sleeve and brought out another knife to slash at it. It snapped at his nose, but he didn’t flinch. He swung the knife swiftly, feinting to make the ichling dodge and then stabbing at it when it came into place.
The slash carved though the ichling’s wing and it screeched, falling to the floor. Snape lunged to crush it under his foot, but it rolled to all fours and hissed at him again. It scuttled across the floor, as quick as a roach, tucking both wings back to keep them out of the way. It left a trail of stinking, black blood as it went. Snape cast a capture spell at it and it dodged under a footstool. It jumped into the padded armchair then turned and leaped at Snape’s face with another shrill scream. He threw his arm to block it and felt its claws scrabble through his sleeve.
The ichling sprang for the mirror from Snape’s arm, trying to escape. The Potionsmaster threw himself in the way and it spun to dodge him as best it could with the damaged wing. The door knob behind them jiggled, then clicked as it was opened.
“Wait!” Snape shouted, but the ichling was already leaping for the door. He flung his knife at it, hoping to kill it before it got far. The woman coming in was the witch with the pet rat from Magical Maladies. She had three scares in a row coming at her. The ichling was the first. It launched itself straight at her with a shrill cry. She screamed as it landed on her chest and sprang from there over her head and out into the hallway. As soon as it saw the ichling coming, Ophelia the rat dove into the woman’s elaborate hairstyle to hide, making her scream again. A bare instant later, Snape’s dagger sank into the doorway next to her ear. With a squeak she might have learned from Ophelia, the witch toppled backwards in a faint. Luckily, Argus Filch was behind her to break her fall.
“*#!&%@?!?” he gasped, trying to keep her head from hitting the floor. She recovered quickly, waving her arms wildly and hitting the poor man a few times before he was able to heave her back up to a sitting position.
“What?!” she squawked. “”What, what, WHAT??” One of her flailing hands formed a pointing gesture and she shook it at the knife. Her other hand waved towards the hallway where the ichling had disappeared. Too late to chase the creature down, Snape tucked his hands into his sleeves and tried to look nonchalant.
“Vermin,” he said by way of explanation. Ophelia poked her head out of a cluster of curls and looked indignant. Snape ignored it. “May I help you two in some way?”
“Vermin??” Filch echoed. Snape caught himself nodding.
“Perhaps Mrs. Norris could have a look around?” he asked. Filch glared at him.
“Mrs. Norris has more pressing business than mousing right now,” he said huffily. There was the hurried click of heels on the stone floor and McGonagall came bustling over.
“Have you seen the Headmaster Dumbledore?” she asked, too worried to notice the dagger sticking out of the door frame, or the blood trail across Ficus’ carpet. “There may be a boggart about.”
“A boggart?” Snape said, thinking of the ichling. “Which way was it headed?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Young Raye is hysterical. She swears she has seen Headmaster Ficus killed and something about giant spiders and wolves... What else but a boggart could cause such delusions?”
“What indeed?” said Dumbledore as he came around the corner. The Magical Malady representative flounced over to get to him before McGonagall.
“What is going on around here?” she shrilled. Dumbledore looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to go on. When she didn’t elaborate, he smiled absently.
“You’ve heard of our difficulties with the Elmskill Morthahg?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said. “I was coming to discuss it with the Headmaster Ficus.”
“It is loose somewhere in the Forest,” Dumbledore said, and some of the color drained from the woman’s face. “What would you like me to do about it?” he asked next. Silence fell over the little group and while she wrestled with that question, Snape crept away again.