The Search
The following morning, Ginny was engaged in some late marking – a pile of English essays she should have dealt with last night – when a silver cat leapt into existence on the dining table in the Headmistress’s house.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Ginny,” said the cat, with McGonagall’s voice. “But we have a problem here, and would like your advice. Could you please come to the Hogwarts entrance? We need to organise a search party.”
With that clue, Ginny checked her own copy of the school timetables that covered one wall of the dining room, and hurried through to Gosse’s studio next door. Gosse was painting Ruby. “Gosse,” Ginny said hurriedly, waving an apology to Ruby. “McGonagall needs some help with a search party. You’re not teaching until after break. Could you…?”
Gosse looked distinctly conflicted, but put his brush down and nodded.
Ruby was dressing with rapidity. “Who are we looking for?” she asked.
“Don’t know yet,” admitted Ginny. “Where’s Undine?”
They both shrugged. “Durmstrang, probably,” said Ruby. “Have you seen my parka anywhere?”
The three of them went straight to New Hogwarts, while Ginny worried that it would be Caroline Moore-Hexham who was missing. The girl’s frozen expression after the selection haunted her. Had she been so terrified at the prospect of competing, she’d run? Or worse?
But when they reached the drawbridge, she could see the tall figure of Moore-Hexham standing in the group bunched around McGonagall. She felt some relief, but who was missing?
“Ginny,” said McGonagall, in brief welcome. “Thank you for coming so quickly. We cannot find Malcolm Baddock.”
Baddock had last been seen the previous evening, as he’d made his rounds after the Goblet of Fire ceremony. His bed appeared to have been slept in, but he had not been seen at breakfast, and had been missed at a prefect meeting he was meant to be running.
This winter had come very early, but it was finishing earlier than normal as well. The thaw was well under way, in early February. The Barbegazi slopes were unusable now. The weir leaving the lake was huge - a mass of falling grey-white - and the stream beneath it a raging torrent.
“Is he a climber?” Ginny asked. Although the Great Cliff behind the school could be climbed in theory, only an expert like Mr Cotte would risk it at the moment.
“I don’t believe so,” said McGonagall. “Caroline?”
Moore-Hexham gave a brief shrug, but didn’t answer. She had a frozen expression.
“Miss Moore-Hexham was seeing Mr Baddock,” McGonagall murmured in Ginny’s ear.
Caroline couldn’t have heard this, but she appeared to guess what her Headmistress had said. “We’d broken up,” she said, stiffly.
“When was that?” Ginny asked.
Caroline stayed silent for seconds. “About a week ago,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Was he upset?” Ginny asked.
Caroline seemed to consider that a stupid question. “A bit,” she agreed. “But this is nothing to do with me. And I’ve got enough to worry about right now.”
A flying search was the only practical option. The entire group of Hogwarts prefects took off on brooms, with McGonagall’s yelled instructions in their ears: They were to stay in pairs, or bigger groups. They were to agree among themselves the areas to search. Ginny, Jehanne and several other Beauxbatons monitors were astride brooms, but the rest of the monitors were more comfortable on Thestrals. Mr Cotte took Mr de Marcatel, the Charms teacher, with him on foot, to explore the caves in the cliffs above the school.
It was hard to divide up the searchers without either duplicating or missing large areas, but Ginny relied on Jehanne’s knowledge of the mountains to distribute everyone. It helped when Chloe Langenberg and Ragge appeared from Durmstrang, to find out what was happening, then left and returned with a band of Durmstrang prefects plus several of the staff, including Sendulla.
But no-one could find any trace of Malcolm Baddock. That was no surprise to anybody; There were an infinite number of places someone could be, and not be found. And in twelve hours he could be a huge distance away by now. McGonagall had sent a Patronus to Baddock’s parents, both to notify them and check he hadn’t returned home. The Baddocks were very bitter, of course: In their view, the school should never have been moved to the Alps.
“Although there’s just as many places to get lost around Hogwarts,” McGonagall added when she relayed this news.
The search was called off as the light went in the late afternoon. Every physical and magical means had been used to locate or recall Malcolm, without success.
“And if Accio doesn’t work,” said Professor Sprout, in irritation, “A physical search is a waste of time anyway. Either he doesn’t want to be found, or he’s miles away from here.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” said McGonagall. “But we had to try.” Her attention was diverted by Caroline Moore-Hexham appearing at her shoulder. “How are you faring, Caroline?” she asked her.
Moore-Hexham looked very strained. She’d been out on a broom for several hours, and was shaking with cold. “I can’t…” she said, but couldn’t continue.
“Can’t what, Miss Moore-Hexham?” asked McGonagall, kindly.
“I can’t… deal with this Triwizard thing. I… I didn’t put my name in, I swear. And with Malcolm missing, you have to let me pull out. Please, Professor!”
McGonagall looked pained and sympathetic, but couldn’t offer much comfort. “I’m sorry, Caroline. It’s out of my hands. A binding magical contract isn’t something anyone can argue with. Malcolm’s probably completely safe somewhere. If we can’t find him, he must be. Let’s just hope he turns up soon. We’re not giving up on him, I promise. But I’ll talk to the Triwizard judges. Perhaps we can delay the first challenge by a few days. But a missing person isn’t enough to negate a magical contract.”
Moore-Hexham took no comfort from this. Her face set, she turned on her heel and hurried over the drawbridge into New Hogwarts.
“I feel bad saying that,” admitted McGonagall, watching her leave. “But I don’t see we have much choice here. Whoever set up the rules for the Triwizard competition patently never foresaw any of this.”
Ginny was inclined to agree with Professor Sprout – that Baddock wouldn’t be found anywhere near the school - but when Professor McGonagall sent her silver cat to Ginny the following morning to ask for the search to resume, Ginny could see no way of refusing. The search party met once more outside New Hogwarts, but there were precious few new ideas of somewhere to search. Even so, they had to try.
“Caroline is very upset,” McGonagall reported, nodding to where Moore-Hexham’s tall figure stood amongst the other Hogwarts prefects, all with their brooms. “She pleaded with me to search again. We must have missed Malcolm yesterday, she thinks. She’s convinced he’s unconscious somewhere, or worse.” She organised the searchers into fresh teams, and gave them different search areas from the previous day. “Fresh eyes,” she said to Sendulla and Ginny. “Although I doubt anyone’s eyes are fresh after yesterday.”
Ginny climbed unenthusiastically onto her broom once more and took off, in the midst of the Beauxbatons group. They made for their search area together, in the mountain plain above the school, then split into pairs to comb the endless miles of still snow-covered rock.
It seemed colder than yesterday, with a bitter wind burning her face. Her fellow searcher, Madame Desprez, the Beauxbatons Transfiguration teacher, was equally silent as they examined the ground below.
It was at the end of the long morning that Madame Desprez called out to her, and pointed: Over to their right, in the distance, they could both see a stream of red sparks rising into the air.
“What do we do?” Ginny shouted. “Do we go and see?”
“We keep looking,” Madame Desprez called back. “Until we hear.”
Ginny found it difficult then to give all her attention to her own search. She continued to feel guilty about that until a pair on brooms crossed the search area towards them – Henri Sendulla was one of them – and told them that Malcolm Baddock had been found.
“Is he OK?” Ginny called. Sendulla shrugged.
She could see the searchers returning now, on broom and Thestral, back towards Beauxbatons valley. She scolded herself for being macabre in looking for someone carrying an additional burden, but she felt even worse when she saw a Thestral with a long burden across the beast’s back in front of the rider.
The rider was Professor Lesassier, she realised, the Beauxbatons Defence teacher. She hadn’t expected to see him riding a Thestral. As she watched, the Thestral dropped slowly from the sky, and landed in front of New Hogwarts. She could see others hurrying forward to help Lesassier. They clustered around one figure, but the figure was pushing them away.
“I found him upstream,” said Lesassier. “In a cave.”
“Is he all right?” asked Madame Desprez.
“I don’t know,” said Lesassier. “He’s alive, but…”
“What’s wrong with him?” An anguished voice she didn’t recognise. A girl in a Hogwarts gown, her fists pressed into her face, but it wasn’t Moore-Hexham.
“We don’t know, Laura.” That was McGonagall, looking unhappy.
Laura pulled at the figure’s arm. “What’s wrong, Malcolm?” she asked him.
Ginny could see Baddock’s expression now. Instead of the cool confidence she’d seen in the past, he was looking strangely blank, yet stressed and scared, his head turning constantly as he stared wildly at the people around him. He shook Laura off with a moan.
Laura looked around at the others in fear. “What’s happened to him?”
“His memory, Laura,” said McGonagall, grimly.
“You mean, he’s been Obliviated? Why?”
“This isn’t an Obliviation spell,” said McGonagall. “He doesn’t seem to recognise anybody.”
“Malcolm!” cried Laura, tearfully.
McGonagall’s eyes met Ginny’s over Laura’s shoulder. “I’m not even sure he can speak,” she said. Her eyes were full of pity.
“We’ll need to wait,” said Sendulla, approaching them. Ginny hadn’t realised he was there. “He needs time to recover. That’s Caroline, isn’t it? His girl?”
Ginny turned, and could see a group of Hogwarts students trudging towards them. They were carrying brooms, and looked tired and defeated. Caroline Moore-Hexham was among them, her head down, her expression fixed. The others were muttering amongst themselves, but none of them were talking to her. Ginny watched McGonagall approach them, but Caroline avoided her reaching hand, and hurried over the New Hogwarts drawbridge, leaving McGonagall to gaze after her.
“Perhaps it’s best,” said Sendulla. “It’s not pleasant seeing someone you know well, like this.” He nodded in Baddock’s direction.
Another girl had her arm over Laura’s shoulder, trying to lead her away from Malcolm Baddock. Ginny could see tears on both girls’ faces. Here was Madam Pomfrey, hurrying over the drawbridge, taking Baddock by the arm, talking to him gently, urging him back into the castle, while he looked at her and everything around him in confusion and alarm.
“Spell damage,” said McGonagall when they next met. “It has to be, I think. It’s not any spell we can recognise.”
“Is he any better?” asked Ginny.
McGonagall shook her head, gloomily. “Worse, if anything. It’s not just that he can’t speak, but he can’t understand anybody either. He doesn’t recognise his own name, or any face. Not even his parents. His entire memory has been wiped. He gets very distressed, and Madame Pomfrey is having to sedate him.”
“Is Caroline OK?”
“She won’t go near him. She won’t even look at him. Fortunately Laura Madley is made of stronger stuff. She spends every spare moment with him. It seems to calm him down. She thinks she can get him to speak again, but she maybe being over-hopeful there. We just don’t know. Did you know they used to go out together? That was before Caroline came, of course.”
“Poor Laura,” said Ginny.
“Poor all of them,” said McGonagall.