Make the Punishment Fit the Crime
Reginald shared none of his thoughts about Pauline Langlet with anyone from his troop. He knew for certain that Aiden should not know what he intended to do. The best way to keep Aiden out of the loop was to shut all of them out.
The prefect’s guard is slowly lowering, thought Reginald. I must do nothing to make them more vigilant again.
To that effect, Reginald continued acting like a model student. This was particularly easy in Arithmancy, his favourite class. He made sure to ask good questions during the lecture. During the practical, he earned praise and five House points for conjuring the best 14 among the class.
It pleased him greatly to see Aiden struggle. Aiden’s 14 kept collapsing into a 7. Freya Felwich leaned over to offer pointers. I will never take advice from a girl, Reginald mused. I will never need to.
After Arithmancy, he met up with the rest of his troop in the Entrance Hall and then led them out to the Forest for Magical Creatures. A heavy mist was falling. Jason asked, “What about that scene in the Hearth Room today? Prefect Felwich made Ellsworth look like a fool!”
Reginald gave his friend a wry grin. “The Seventh Years need to take care of their own business,” he said.
Waiting for class to start, the boys stood under the eaves of the forest, keeping out of the rain as best they could. Reginald gazed back across the lawn towards the castle. The spot in the wall where he had hidden the forbidden book was less than one hundred meters from where he stood. He felt the pull of the book acutely. His mind was full of questions that only the book could answer.
He looked to Aiden and asked, “How long is this rain supposed to last?”
“Until November,” said Aiden, “at which point it will start to snow.”
“What about this weekend?”
“The forecast I heard was for heavy rain.”
“You told me once that you found a way down to the wharf?”
“Yes,” said Aiden. “Freya and I were down there this summer.”
“Take me there on Saturday.”
“Of course.”
Reginald looked away back across the lawn. Aiden the spy, always so helpful.
Friday morning, another piece of Reginald’s plan suddenly came into focus. At breakfast, there were plates stacked with blueberry scones. He took a scone, but then he scooped some eggs and bacon onto his plate. The scone went uneaten. He wrapped it in a napkin and dropped it into the pocket of his robe.
He looked sidelong at Aiden, but Aiden was talking to Terrill. The prefects, Jim and Q, were tending to their charges. No one had noticed Reginald saving the scone from his breakfast. Another sign that the vigilance of the prefects was beginning to wane.
The boys had a free period before their Astronomy lecture, so they lingered at the breakfast table. Alyssa and her friends were on the opposite side of the table from Dennison, and down a little way, closer to the Fifth Year girls. They looked to be avoiding Reginald and his troop, but he saw the girls’ eyes flick towards him several times during the meal.
Aiden asked, “Would you like to go down to the wharf?”
“Not today,” said Reginald. “You and I should get that Arithmancy assignment done.”
“And the Herbology notes,” suggested Jason.
“Does the hag ever give you homework?” asked Reginald, meaning Professor Firenze.
“Yes,” said Jason with a laugh. “Jones and I have to figure out the portents of sticks in the stream. Absolute bunk if you ask me.”
This comment drew a nasty glare from Alyssa Pitchfork. At least someone is paying attention to us, mused Reginald.
Saturday morning, Reginald willed himself to wake up early. He dressed quietly and stole from the dormitory before anyone else was awake. He climbed the straight stairs to the Entrance Hall and then slipped out into the driving rain. His cloak and slacks had been charmed to repel water. Still, the cold morning air chilled him as he walked, hands crammed in his pockets.
He had also cast several anti-tracking charms on his cloak. When the prefects finally realize that I’m gone, they won’t be able to find me. Even if they suspect I’m out here, no one will want to venture out in this storm.
Cutting across the lawn, he headed straight for the wall that marked the edge of campus. There, fifty meters or so from the forest’s edge, a loose stone jutted outward. With his bare hands, not wanting to cast a spell that could be traced back to that spot, he worked loose the stone and set it on top of the wall. In the open space in the wall was the leather pouch and the forbidden book, Wicked Vengeance. It was time for another lesson.
Aiden awoke early on Saturday morning as well. He heard someone walking past his bed, but his curtains were drawn, and he did not see who it was. He fell back asleep and woke up a half hour later. At that point, he rose and took a shower.
When he got back to the dormitory, Jones was standing by Reginald’s bed with a puzzled look on his face. “Um, have you seen Reg?” asked Jones. “Is he in the shower?”
“No.” Aiden felt his stomach sink as he remembered the early footfalls outside his curtain. “Let’s check the loo.”
Reginald was not in the loo. A wider search proved that he was not in the boys’ dormitory at all. “Why am I always the one in the dark about stuff?” complained Jones.
“Believe me, Freddy,” said Jason, “it’s best that we don’t know what he’s up to.”
Aiden reported to Jim, who brought word to Umberto. Soon after, Aiden, Jim, Umberto and Q assembled in the Hearth Room. “Honestly,” said Aiden, “he had me convinced that we were going to explore the wharf today. Neither Carter nor Jones knew anything was up.”
Upstairs in the Entrance Hall, Q checked with one of the portraits hanging in the hallway. “The painting reports that a boy left the castle early this morning,” she said.
“He’s out to get the book,” said Aiden.
“If we’re lucky, we can catch him with it,” said Umberto. “I want this door watched, every second of the day, until he comes back. I’ll set a watch in the towers, too. Maybe we can see him coming.”
Nolan Marrett was only too happy to oblige. As soon as he had finished breakfast, he and his troop went up to the Astronomy Tower, and he asked his friends in Ravenclaw to watch from their own tower. Nolan searched the grounds with his omnioculars. Though the sky above the tower was clear, rain pelted down everywhere else. He could see nothing through the curtains of grey.
As the rain fell in sheets around him, Reginald huddled under a tree in the Forbidden Forest. The spirit within the book was slow to awaken. When Reginald had its full attention, a cold gripped him that was entirely separate from the damp cold of the day. Reginald asked, “Why did my spell fail?”
The response was quick, a whisper in his ear. “What was that girl to you? She meant nothing! She had done nothing to you. These curses are not for settling minor grievances or inter-House squabbles. They are grievous measures for the most bitter and painful affronts. Without that pain and anger to give it strength, you cast a weak spell that, in your case, two prefects easily defeated.”
The book opened on its own accord. The pages turned to the introduction. Reginald felt a force pushing his head downwards, drawing his attention to the third paragraph:
These curses should not be casually tossed. You must mean them. Your curse should be filled with all the anger and indignation that the offender inspires in you. Carefully consider each potential remedy and match it with care to your own circumstances. Make the punishment fit the crime.
The spirit of the book whispered in his ear again. “Now, tell me about this new girl.” Reginald, speaking aloud, told all he knew and all he had learned regarding the conflict between the Big Coven and Blake Ellsworth, and the ways that the girls had beaten and humiliated the older boy. Bile burned his throat as he said, “Langlet doesn’t hide. She doesn’t keep a low profile, hoping no one will know or remember her heritage. She flaunts herself! She makes sure everyone knows she’s a Mudblood!”
The book whispered back to him, “This girl is beautiful, is she not?”
“I guess,” said Reginald.
“A boy like Ellsworth would not have bothered with her otherwise, correct?”
“Yes, you’re right.”
“What is the danger of letting a beautiful Muggleborn girl into Slytherin House?”
“She’s debasing everything Slytherin stands for!” said Reginald. “The whole place has gone to hell these last few years. That’s what my dad and uncles say.”
“It certainly sounds that way,” agreed the spirit in the book. “But tell me, what specific danger does this pretty girl represent? What is the true threat of giving her full status in her House and Coven?”
“Next we’ll be marrying them! Heritage be damned!” said Reginald, parroting something his father had said many times.
“Precisely. And with marriage comes children, and a pure-blooded line is now completely fouled. There’s no way to recover purity of blood once it’s been corrupted. In this specific case, it is far better that she is open about her heritage. For a woman to sully a pure-blood line through deception, that would be a heinous crime indeed.
“Still, for as long as she has positions of prominence within the school and the House, she represents a danger to any pure-blood wizard. To the true believers of the doctrine of purity of blood, she is a heretic. That is her crime. Now, make the punishment fit the crime.”
The book’s pages began turning of their own accord once more. They stopped at a curse that Reginald had not yet considered. The picture held no interest for him, prior. Unlike the other illustrations, which showed naked women in grotesque, sometimes obscene poses, this one was modest and poignant. A woman knelt beside her bed. Her arms were crossed upon the bedcovers, and her head lay upon them like a pillow. She was weeping. Though her nightgown was sheer, her pose revealed nothing to the young boy’s eye. Thus, he had passed over the picture each time.
Now, he gazed at the melancholic drawing and imagined that this was Pauline Langlet. What have we done to her to make her weep so? he wondered. His eyes drifted to the text of the curse, and a fiendish grin crept over his face. I never would have thought to do this. How cruel! How absolutely perfect!
He spoke aloud. “I must learn this curse!”
“I will teach it to you. The incantation is difficult, but the wand motions are simple and fluid. I found it in an ancient book of Dark Magic long ago, before your parents were born. The curse is quite effective. I personally know of a circumstance in which the witch took her own life after being afflicted. The despair it evokes is dementor-like in its power. Say the incantation with me ….”
It was a difficult sound for Reginald to make. He made several attempts, and the book was quite stern with him. Finally, he could say it to the spirit’s satisfaction. They practiced the wand motions and then had another session repeating the incantation.
“Again, you must not toss this curse casually,” warned the book. “It is for this girl and her alone! To cast this upon a pureblood witch is a crime against Wizard kind. You must do nothing of the sort.”
“I won’t! I swear. This is for Pauline Langlet, and her only.”
“Good. Now, you must hide this book away again. The prefects will be hunting for it and for you. If they find the book and turn it over to your Headmaster, I will be lost to you forever.”
Reginald put the book back in the leather pouch. He went to the wall and slipped the pouch into the slot left by the loose stone. Then, he set the stone back into place as best that he could.
He felt light-headed, which reminded him that he had not eaten anything that morning. Fortunately, the scone was there in his pocket, still wrapped in a napkin. Under the trees, he unwrapped the scone and took a few bites. Then, he made his way across the fields back to the castle.
When he entered the Entrance Hall, Umberto was waiting with Jim and Q. The junior prefects had their wands drawn.
“Where have you been?” asked Umberto.
“I went for a walk,” said Reginald.
“In the deluge?”
“I needed some time alone.”
“There are many nooks and crannies in this castle where one can spend a few hours by himself,” said Umberto.
“I wanted some privacy, away from your spies, Calais.”
“Take off your cloak.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you too. Do not give me reasons to get stern with you.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong!” cried Reginald, but he relented. Umberto took the cloak and checked the pockets, while Q swept the stone floor with her wand, clearing away the puddle of water that had formed at Reginald’s feet.
With Reginald’s cloak, still on his arm, Umberto said, “Turn out your pants pockets.”
Reginald took his wand in his left hand while turning out the pockets of his slacks. “Anything else?” asked Reginald. “Are you going to make me strip right here in the Entrance Hall?”
“Don’t tempt me,” said Umberto. He handed back the cloak. “We are still watching you, Dennison. I don’t know what you are up to yet. You remain one step ahead of me. God help you if I catch up.”
Reginald’s lip curled into a sneer. When you catch up to me, it will be too late. I will have cursed Langlet, and neither Felwich or Guishar will be able to save her!