Chapter Seventeen

Going Underground and Isabella Silverthorn

Jacques found her in the kitchen easily enough, it seemed, though she had to admit it had ruffled her when it had taken him five whole minutes to bother to come.

He cleared his throat.

She didn't look at him or acknowledge his presence in any way. She'd sent her cats off so they'd stop growling emphatically at everything Jacques had ever touched. She had this under control. If she could get blasted from windows and survive numerous murder attempts, this ought to be a piece of cake. Her lips twitched a bit as she solemnly reached for the Doritos.

"You wanted me to apologize?" Jacques asked.

After a moment, she gave a short nod.

"Well, fine, then. I apologize. Whatever I said, I shouldn't have said it. I get that now."

" 'Whatever you said?' " she echoed.

He sighed. "Fine. I'm sorry I said something else was more important than you, but it's true, isn't it?"

"That's your apology?" Evelyn had started picking at him as a joke, but now this seemed to be getting out of hand.

"What else do you want me to say?" he countered. "That's the truth."

"No, that's only what you think of as the truth," she snapped back. "Think you're so smart, don't you? News for you, dear. The real world isn't going to squeeze itself under a microscope just to help you out."

"I don't expect it to." He paused, looking at her thoughtfully. "Oh, now I get it. This is PMS."

She let out a much more feral growl than her cats ever had and stomped out of the kitchen. She marched past Brittany in the hall, saw her glance toward the kitchen, and heard Jacques say, "What? It is, isn't it?"

Evelyn wandered the grounds for the better part of an hour. Some cats approached her and stared at her as though they thought of her as a rabid mouse, and took off after leaving their letters and tokens. She didn't bother opening them. Instead, she just did a spell to see whom each one was from. No others came from the authorities, for which she was grateful.

Slowly, she worked her way into the Main Building and climbed the stairs, trying to find a way to get to the roof, hoping to find a place where she could be alone. It was on the third floor when she heard voices and darted through the first door she saw as she recognized one of the voices as Mr. Doggles.

"There's no such thing as a Plurirum Valere spell, not in America."

"Oui," another voice said, rumbling softly. "Eef thees es true, 'ow do thees children know eet?"

"The girl's up to something," Doggles said firmly. "No other way about it. I will find out what she is up to, mark my words on that. She may very well regret it if I do find out."

The voices continued down the hall, and Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're looking much better," another voice said.

Stunned, she spun around, preparing to face whomever it was. She frowned, not seeing anyone. The room was full of dusty sheets covering furniture and what looked like- what looked like-

"Mind helping me out of here?" The Masquerader was jamming his head against the edge of his frame, trying to see her from behind a row of paintings in front of him.

"Spree!?" Evelyn exclaimed, walking over. She knelt beside the painting and pulled off the sheet which partly covered it. "I thought you were-"

"You thought I was a dream," Spree finished. "Dead people who come back to life always have the same common assumption."

She scowled.

"Something wrong, toots?"

She raised her eyebrows. " 'Toots?' So you're where Jacques gets it." She made a move as if to cover the painting again.

He quickly held his arms out as if to show he was unarmed. "Hey! No! You're getting me all wrong. And what's Jacques got to do with this? I haven't seen him in forever!"

"Jacques is, at the moment, being exceedingly rude. I think you're the one who taught him." She nibbled her lip for a moment. "It wasn't a dream," she murmured.

"'Course it wasn't," Spree said with false cheer. "Though I admit I am verymuch the stuff of dreams, I try to stay out of them. It can be a bit time-consuming, and then there's that whole thing of never knowing what to expect."

Evelyn sighed and pulled the sheet clear away. The painting in front, one of a rather bullish-looking woman, snored loudly and rolled over. "You'd better thank me later," she grumbled as she pulling Spree out, painstakingly slow.

"I'm the one who told the git you were alive," Spree retorted, though he didn't seem to mean it. "Hold on! What are you doing?"

"Covering you," she said firmly. "I don't want to get caught carrying a stolen painting around. What if Mr. Webber sees?"

His mutters were muffled by the sheet, but it was evident his words were not complimentary.

Evelyn, Spree stuck under her arm, poked her head through the crack in the doorway and checked both ways before stepping out. She hurried to the stairway, going as quickly as she could and as quietly as she could, and was crossing the threshold of the front door into the sun when a voice ahead of her said resonantly, "Evelyn Smith, I presume."

She gasped so hard she choked and nearly dropped Spree, who had the sense to stay quiet. She was facing the grandest wizard she'd ever laid eyes on. His nose was curved but gentle, his moderate share of wrinkles pronounced with dignity. His piercing eyes were blue and seemed to peer everywhere carefully even though his attention was focused on her. His mouth was large, his chin firm and rounded. His gray hair was clipped short. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a red tie and dark leather shoes. Everything about him seemed prominent and ennobled.

"Yes?" she asked breathlessly.

He held out his hand, two security wizards in black robes and sunglasses shifting restlessly and looking on behind him.

Nearly dropping Spree again, she shook the man's hand. Allowing her own hand to fall back to her side, she said, "You're nearly as quick as your cat, Mr. Cuppy."

He grinned and bowed slightly. "Pleased to hear it. Could you answer a few questions now, do you think?"

She nodded, feeling certain that no one had denied him before.

"Good. Then until Mr. Webber arrives, I'll ask the most pressing question on my mind. Did you have anything to do with the destruction of Aleridge?"

The words were so forceful that it took her a few moments to realize she was already answering. "Yes, sir. My friends and I helped heal it, and I've met the woman who cause the destruction."

"And that was all?"

"Yes, sir."

"You and your friends helped to heal it? I haven't heard anything about your friends, I'm sorry to say." Now that she had answered his most worrying question, he seemed much more genial. "How did you all manage to heal it when they weren't at Aleridge?"

"Oh, um. Well, it was the way- See, our familiars did something, except it didn't work out as it does for other people. They made this sort of chat room, you see." She explained the concept to him and ended with, "BoBob, Mrs. Ortega, and Mr. Conway understand it tons more than I do, though."

He nodded as Mr. Webber spoke from behind her, causing her to jump again. "Thank you for that, Ms. Smith," Mr. Webber said clearly. "Now, if you could hurry off and allow me to entertain my guest."

She nodded hastily, muttered a quick good-bye, and hurried off to House C. She had nearly gotten there when she ran into Marie and a gaggle of girls from House B.

"Stealing something?" Marie asked curiously. "Oh, won't Jacques be glad to know about that!" The girls behind her sniggered obligingly.

"I'm not stealing," Evelyn retorted. She grinned maliciously as she got an idea. "The Head of the MBI just gave this to me. You know whom he is, of course."

Marie's eyes narrowed. "You don't know the Head of the MBI. You don't know what the MBI is."

" 'Magical Bureau of Investigations,' " Evelyn said with certainty. "And the Head of the MBI, whom I just met- oh, well, surely I don't have to tell you his name-"

"Mr. Cuppy," Marie said promptly.

Evelyn looked impressed. "Quite right. Do you know him?"

"I know of him," Marie said, making the "of" quiet, cheeks turning pinker than before.

"Oh." Evelyn looked the perfect picture of a grieving widow. "And here I was thinking you traveled in the best of circles." She instantly brightened. "Oh, well. Just goes to show that plastic surgery can't fix everything." With that, she strode past them, clutching Spree loosely so her knuckles wouldn't turn white but tight enough that they wouldn't be able to grab it from her too readily.

When she finally reached House C, she plopped down in one of the chairs BoBob and Ms. Bronson had left vacated after they'd left. "You wouldn't believe the day I've had," she said to Rebecca and Jacques, features drawn and voice exhausted. Thomas, Sisqo, David, and Bethany had left, and she could hear Brittany, Sean, and Jacob in the kitchen. "I just met Cuppy."

"MBI?" Rebecca asked, surprised.

Evelyn nodded.

"What's that?" Jacques asked lazily, studying the sheet-covered painting.

Evelyn opened one eye, noting the underlying tone of anxiety in his voice. "Something I picked up for art class."

"You aren't in art class," he said, trying not to grate his teeth and failing.

"Independent study," she told him calmly. She sighed as she stood and picked up Spree again. "Then again," she rushed, hearing Spree take a deep breath to shout with, "you might be interested to know that the dream I was telling you about earlier might not be a dream after all. You know, the one I told you about while I was in the hospital, about the man who kept changing shirts."

There was suddenly silence from the kitchen as Rebecca made a face.

Jacques, distracted, snapped, "You said his shirt kept changing shape."

"The mind of a dead person can get very confused," Evelyn said, still calm. "Now, what I'm wondering is this. Ever since I saw this . . . object, I've been able to remember more and more of my so-called dream. And if it wasn't a dream, if it was real, then how did-"

Jacques stood up quickly. "Upstairs, now."

She also stood and picked up the covered painting. Spree was going along quite quietly now.

Jacques climbed the stairs until they got to the third floor and went into one of the bedrooms. As soon as he closed the door behind her, he looked from her to the painting and back again.

Still feeling cold towards him, she set the painting on the bed and pulled back the sheet, then put the painting upright to Spree could let go of the palm tree he was holding tightly to in order to keep from falling out of the frame.

"Jacques, old boy. Good to see you."

Jacques glared at him.

"Ah. Not in a chipper mood today, are you? She wasn't either," he said, jerking his thumb in Evelyn's direction. Evelyn glared at him.

"It's PMS," Jacques said shortly. Now Evelyn glared at him. "How'd you find him?" Jacques demanded of her.

She stuck her tongue out.

"Oh, really mature, Eve!"

In retaliation, she crossed her arms and eyes and stuck her tongue out again, making a face.

Jacques growled. "This isn't a joke! I want an answer!"

A joke? An answer? This time, she snapped. "Get it from your sweet Frenchman!" she shouted furiously.

"What Frenchman?" Jacques asked, voice dangerously soft now.

"The one who's on such buddy-buddy terms with the Dog!" She stared at him breathlessly as he stared back at her.

"Well," Spree said, looking between them, "happy homecoming."

Evelyn promptly left angrily.

During the upcoming week, Evelyn's life was a whirlwind of newspaper articles (some of which she was actually interviewed for), quidditch practices, homework, and studying for exams. BoBob had decided to give her an exam a week later than the other teachers so she wouldn't tire herself out, but Mrs. Preston still dropped in on Evelyn four times that week to make sure she was getting enough rest. Many of the teachers were giving Mr. Doggles the brush-off, but Mr. Cuppy spent most of the week with him and the mysterious Frenchman, who never spoke when Evelyn came for lessons. She was, in all honesty, glad when Mr. Cuppy was at her lessons. Though he displayed an interest, Mr. Doggles didn't want to shun such a prestigious guest by teaching a pupil, which meant Evelyn got a quiet hour of talking peacefully (without being accused of immaturity) while she sipped on cold Coca-Cola and nibbled on chocolate chip cookies. Though her stomach didn't approve of the regimen, her spirits were much happier.

Saturday, Jacques was just about to leave for the flying fields when he jumped back into the entrance of the living room, mouth open and staring at the door in shock. The reason was revealed a short while later when Mr. Cuppy walked in.

"Sorry to disturb you," he said quietly. His voice carried into the far corners of the room, causing Bethany to glance up from her beauty magazine for a few moments while everyone else wore expressions much like Jacques's.

Evelyn stood quickly. "No problem. Want some chips?"

Mr. Cuppy grinned and shook his head. "No thank you. I just wanted to stop by before I left."

" 'Left?' " Evelyn echoed.

He nodded. "I plan, perhaps, to return. Until then, though, I wanted to tell you that if you ever need any help, I'd like you to call me."

Evelyn nodded. "Sure thing. And thanks, Mr. Cuppy."

He nodded deeply and left. After a few minutes, Jacques closed the door after him. When he came back into the room, his jaw was still hanging and moving about like a fish's as it dried out on the docks. "That was Mr. Cuppy," he choked out at last.

Evelyn nodded.

"The Head of the MBI," Rebecca said breathlessly.

Evelyn nodded.

"The Head of the MBI," Brittany said.

Evelyn nodded.

"The real one," Jacob said.

Evelyn nodded.

Sean gave Jacob a funny look.

Evelyn massaged her neck.

"He smelled funny," Bethany's voice said from behind the magazine.

Evelyn gave a half-nod and then made a face.

"Speaking of help, though," Jacques said, "Perhaps we ought to take him up on the offer."

"We already have Ms. Lewis's offer," Evelyn reminded him.

"And Ms. Ortega and Mr. Conway are helping us," Rebecca added.

"And BoBob," Brittany chimed.

"And some other people," Jacob added thoughtfully.

Sean looked at them all. "Can't we practice for the quidditch match first?" he asked desperately.

"Homework," the three girls said together. Bethany groaned behind her magazine. Evelyn shook her head and turned back to her book; the second trimester had passed while she was resting, and she had only made up her exams a few days before, giving her plenty to do for the third trimester.

"I was just going," Jacques said.

Thomas, Sisqo, and David, after a few moments' contemplation, stood. "We'll come, too."

Jacob agreed after Sean hit him hard in the knee.

With the guys gone, the girls settled down for a quiet evening of studying. The event had been so abrupt that it took Evelyn a few moments to realize that Jacques was speaking to her again.

March slipped into April, and the only highlight of the month was the next and final championship game. Anna Rich was there, and Evelyn spoke to her for a few moments when she wasn't looking for the Snitch; she also slipped into the stands to talk to Mr. Cuppy, who was there for press reasons. Brittany was disappointed there wasn't more fuss made about them and their team, but she was told that they couldn't have expected more for a team with no actual name. She was muttering "Not even Hufflepuff will do," all the way home.

April passed with fewer and fewer trips to the library. The librarian, Mrs. Johnston, pestered Jacob until he was forced into returning the books. All six kids chipped in to pay the (surprisingly exorbitant) late fee.

Nothing at all exciting was happening, and instead of making them feel more relaxed, making them think the danger had passed, the six began to feel more anxious. Evelyn didn't realize how worried they were until Sean put his foot down to Brittany going anywhere alone. Brittany complained about it, though in good spirits, for days. Even while Marie was getting more and more ferocious, Brittany now left the attacks mostly up to House A.

Mr. Doggles's lessons had gotten better with routine, as had BoBob's. At least, until a rather until then dull Tuesday in May, a week before third trimester exams.

"I'm thinking about giving you an exam myself," Mr. Doggles said.

"Joy," Evelyn responded sarcastically. Over the year, the two had lapsed into a barely amiable relationship, one with a stern teacher on one side and a cynical, stubborn teenager on the other.

"But I'm going to break the mold - Don't give me that look, Ms. Smith - and test you on something that isn't quite factual." He paused. "They're called the Element Stones. You've heard of them, of course."

Aware that he, Tom, and Frank were all watching her carefully, she kept her expression flat. "I think so."

"Good. Then the test won't be too hard."

Evelyn listened completely for a few moments as he droned on about the history and myth of the Element Stones. She hadn't heard them called that before, she was fairly certain. Her mind began to wander as she remembered all she'd read in the library.

"Sir? How long have the Element Stones been lost?"

Looking slightly perturbed at being interrupted, Mr. Doggles tried to answer as best he could. "Well, there aren't any accurate calendars, and the Stones are only mentioned briefly in a few historical accounts. Nothing more. I've been looking for them for years, all to no avail. Though, as I was saying, it's believed that they send off odd electrical pulses even non-magic people can feel."

"Do they know where the Stones might be?" Evelyn asked.

He looked more perturbed than before. "No," he said shortly. "Though the electrical currents-"

"Time to go-" she said quickly, picking up her bag and practically flying from the office.

The three men, left behind, looked at each other quietly.

"Well," Frank said thoughtfully. "That went well."

By the time Evelyn arrived at House C, she was panting and clutching her side.

"What's wrong?" Brittany demanded, looking up. Rebecca, Jacques, Jacob, and Sean were also in the living room, doing their homework as they watched television.

"I remembered," Evelyn managed before having to cough.

"What?" Jacques asked. "Remembered what?"

"My- my granddad- told me- where the St- Stones are."

"Aquarimus," Rebecca said instantly, waving her wand. She handed the glass of cool water that had appeared in her hand to Evelyn, who took it gratefully. Through the following barrage of questions, she ignored everything except her water and her breath, trying to get herself under control again. When she was done, she silenced everyone with an all-too-patient look.

"Mr. Doggles started talking about the Stones today in my lesson, and it suddenly clicked."

"What clicked?" they demanded on cue as she paused.

Evelyn glared at them. "You know how I'd been saying I'd heard of Mr. Doggles before?"

They nodded impatiently.

"It was something my granddaddy told me before I left for school. " 'And if old Mr. Doggles is still there, tell him to look under the second floorboard to the right in the front hall and he'll find it.' And Mr. Doggles, just now, said he'd been looking for the Stones."

Jacques hmphed. "That's a far-off guess."

"It's still interesting," Rebecca said, eyes bright as she fingered her wand. "I mean, what is under that floorboard?"

"Shall we go look?" Brittany said.

"It's ridiculous!" Jacques told them.

"Can't we just, you know, be lazy and stay here?" Sean said, watching the television screen mournfully.

"Not if you want a birthday present," Brittany pointed out tempestuously.

Sean, suddenly standing behind the girls, shrugged to Jacques. "It won't hurt, will it, to let them have their way for just once?"

The girls grinned at each other, knowing this wasn't the first time nor the last they'd have their way.

Jacob was calmer in getting up, but he stood anyway.

Jacques scowled and followed.

When they got there, the hall was empty, everyone mostly studying for exams. They pretended to read the bulletins as they waited for two students to pass and then went over to the right of the great hall and tried to pry the second floorboard from the wall up.

Evelyn stayed where she way, looking at them oddly. "Guys?"

"Hmm?" Brittany asked. She looked up. "Hey, why aren't you working?" The floorboard was proving harder to lift than Brittany had anticipated.

"Because we're on the wrong side."

The other five stopped working and looked at her.

Evelyn pointed to the left side of the hall. "Granddaddy said 'to' the right. Not 'from' the right."

Jacques scowled again but led the way over. Removing a faded rug with fairies who flew quickly to the opposite side of the fabric to get away from the dust he stirred up, he revealed the floorboards. After applying a bit of pressure to the second one from the wall, the floorboard came up, sliding from it's tail end to the side. He looked up at the others. They looked at him.

Shrugging, he stuck his arm in and felt around. Then he buried his arm in deeper and cursed as he nearly fell in. Evelyn and Jacob, standing closest to him, quickly grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Are you sure you heard the directions right?" Jacques demanded.

Evelyn stuck her tongue out at him, not feeling like arguing at the moment, and stuck the tip of her wand into the hold. "Frazzelsputz," she whispered. Immediately, a crystalline light sprang from her wand. Lowering her head, hearing Jacques snap at her about falling in, she peered as far as she could beneath the floor. "There's a switch."

"Careful," Jacques told her sharply.

Not listening, she flipped the switch with a finger and then became aware of a great rush of air going past her. She fell against a stone floor and before she had time to cry out, something heavy fell on top of her, then another something landed on top of the first.

After a few seconds of silence, she realized what had happened. "Oops . . ." she muttered.

" 'Oops?' Is that all you have to say?" Jacques demanded, pulling her to her feet from beneath Sean, who groaned and coughed.

Evelyn looked up and saw the trap door they'd been standing on close, and the second floorboard slide back in place to block out the tiny sliver of light.

After they had all struggled to their feet, they looked at each other in the fragile glow emanating from Evelyn's wand.

"Frazzlesputz," Brittany muttered. Her own wand flared. The others followed suit and started looking around.

They were standing in what looked like another hall, except the ceiling, though still high, was lower, with a moldy chandelier hanging desolately by a rusted chain. Thirteen candles sat on it, deformed with age but still in tact. "Alinai," Jacques said, pointing his wand at them. One of the candles burst into flame and seemed to stand taller. Jacques did the same for eleven other candles. Seeing he had stopped, Evelyn was about to light the last one when he grabbed her wand and shoved it downward. "Leave the last unlighted."

She gave him a questioning look.

He sighed. "There were thirteen people at the last supper, and one betrayed the leader. Legend has it that if you don't want to be betrayed, you bar the traitor from entering, using only twelve out of thirteen. Leave the thirteenth candle unlighted."

Though Evelyn didn't quite agree, she nodded.

Brittany was looking around dubiously. "This is what the Dog was looking for? Are you sure?"

Rebecca made a triumphant exclamation.

"What is it?" Evelyn asked hurriedly, though she could already see that Rebecca was lifting something from the floor. She and Jacques went over quickly, kneeling beside her and prying up the stone slowly. With Jacob's help they finally got it.

Holding her wand closer to the pit of dried dirt, Evelyn peered into the hole. At the bottom was an old box, looking nearly new though its design was from the early part of the century. Swallowing, she reached in and pulled it out, then slipped off the lid. Inside, there was an object wrapped in cloth. Unwrapping it carefully, a small stone, shaped like a plate with a two-inch diameter, fell into her lap. The stone was so clear that she had to find it primarily through feel. "One of the Stones," she whispered, looking at it.

Brittany, on the other side of the room, sputtered and choked.

"I'll be taking that," a deep voice said.

Evelyn turned quickly to face the woman standing in front of Brittany, shivering. "Taking what?" she demanded.

"The Stone. Which one is it?" Her hair was still a luxurious brown, her lips still red, her cheeks rosy, and eyes still cold.

"The one that doesn't belong to you," Evelyn said firmly.

The woman's lips twitched. "You will give that to me."

"No."

The woman held out her hand, and Evelyn felt the tell-tale pressure on the back of her neck. But now she was holding the Stone in her hand, and as if she were no longer herself, she lifted it and shouted, "Remorte phorogenum quorta homindae!" The air shook like thunder, and the woman was thrown into the wall.

"Brittany," Evelyn said quickly, "get behind me. You guys start working on a way out, all right? Get to that switch, see if there are brooms or something we can use."

Brittany nodded and darted behind her.

Evelyn walked towards the woman, who was snarling as she struggled up. "What's wrong? Ran into something more powerful than you?" she asked tartly.

The woman growled and held out her hand. "Watorae!"

Evelyn held up the Stone to block the spell. Instead, the Stone hummed and absorbed it. As Evelyn and the woman both looked at it, surprised, a gentle breeze went through the room. Evelyn blinked and started walking backwards. She hadn't quite liked how the Stone had hummed like that.

The woman sneered and started walking afterwards. Evelyn quickened her pace, and the woman matched hers. She was beginning to look older as well, and a sort of pressure was building around her hands. Evelyn turned and ran down a hall, checking doors and shouting "Alinai!" at torches on the walls as she went. There had to be a way to trick the woman, maybe trap her. Something better than just getting her away from the others. The others! She should have given the Stone to them! It was too late to think about it now, though. She-

Evelyn stopped short, hearing the woman laughed. This time, Evelyn grinned as well. It was a fountain, empty now, but Evelyn recognized it from her dream. She spun around and pointed her wand at the woman. "Gratnontook!" she shouted.

The woman's eyes widened, and as she raised her wand to deliver her own curse, she froze. Her face contorted as she clutched her stomach, one hand going to cover her mouth. Evidently she thought better of it, and as she doubled-over tapped the ground with her wand.

Evelyn cringed a moment later when she saw the woman vomit roaches. As she searched through her mind to find other spells she could find variations of, the ground trembled beneath her feet. Looking down, the marble floor lurched and exploded beneath her, sending her sprawling up and backwards. She landed with a yell on her ankle, which seemed to snap beneath her.

The woman was over her cockroach bout. "Thought you could get rid of me that easily, did you?"

Evelyn nodded.

Her eyes burned angrily, and she slowly pointed her wand at Evelyn's head. "You will learn, brat. You will learn to fear me, to fear Isabella Silverthorn."

Evelyn scoffed. "Why? Once you get over the awful fashion sense, there's nothing left to fear."

Isabella laughed and stared at Evelyn's forehead, deep in thought. Evelyn blinked at her. She could feel the magic building around the woman, travelling slowly through Isabella's arm, shaping itself as it dripped down the wand. Realizing what was going on, Evelyn quickly raised the Stone and pressed it to the tip of the woman's wand, raising her other arm to defend herself if it didn't work.

Isabella, her spell nearly complete, actually looked at Evelyn now, who seemed to be reaching out to take the wand and smirked as she put nearly all of her power behind the spell. Laughing, she said the last syllable and then frowned. It felt as if her power was reflecting off something. Her eyes widened as she saw a bit of torchlight reflect off the Stone.

The air filled with the sound of bees flying in multitudes and birds screeching warnings. It elevated to a reverberating thunder. Shaking all the air around them, muting the sound of the woman's screams. Then the Elemental Stone won against the woman's magic, and an explosion rocked the underground courtyard, throwing Evelyn into the wall again.

Once everything was still again, Evelyn looked around sleepily, too weak to cough. There was no sign of Isabella Silverthorn at all, nor of the wand, it seemed, though it was hard to tell what was there, with a heavy shroud of dust and debris filling everything. She couldn't see anything except for a few inches in front of her. Slowly, into that few inches of space, crawled a large roach, coming towards her doggedly and tugging behind it a trail of dark green and silver vomit.

It took Evelyn a few minutes to realize it wasn't slowing down. Not having the strength to frown much, her hand twitched, raising her wand enough to point it toward the center of the room. "Gratnoontnick," she muttered. The roach squeaked as it was dragged away by magic, and then everything went dark.

Only one bit left! Hope you guys can hold out! And sorry it was so scratchy there . . .