𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘖𝘯𝘦: 𝘞𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘵'𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺

« 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚞𝚜 »

Before we begin, let's make something clear: my sister and I did not help bring about the end of the world. Whatever you've heard, whatever you've been told ── it's all a big misunderstanding (well, mostly). Some of the things people are saying are true. Dangerous people are gaining power, a war is on the rise, and the Ministry is doing nothing to stop it.

But there is a bit of confusion on how these troubles came about. My sister and I are writing down our little crusades to clear up a few of the finer details, because you deserve to know the truth about what really happened the night our world fell apart ── at least, the truth as we've seen it. There are others with different versions of the same story ── Barbara Johnson, Nina Snape, Ramona Lupin ── but they'll have to tell you their perspectives at another time, in another story, as neither my sister, nor I, can speak for them.

My name is Magnus Pettigrew, and for the past five years I've been a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For those of you who don't know, I am a wizard, and my sister, Matilda, is a witch. And Hogwarts, as you might be able to gather from the title, is a school for children with magical prowess, like us.

Of course, if you're a witch or wizard yourself you'll already know that; and if you're a muggle (that's our word for non-magical person) who's picked this up because you think it's a work of fiction... maybe just put it back down and get out of town. For your own benefit. If you don't already know what's been happening while you've been glued to your tellies or trying not to fall asleep at the office, it's best to keep it that way. Safer if you don't find out the dangers that are lurking just under your noses. Pray that you never discover the truth.

But, if you insist on ignoring my advice, then fine. Continue. Have a ball, thinking all this is a nice little fairytale someone put together for your entertainment. Seriously, enjoy, mate. I wish I could believe I was making everything up, too.

Alright, my sister's hitting me, telling me I should stop being so melodramatic and get on with it. Fine. But, honestly, I'm not sure where to begin.

I could start with the day we were told about our magic. How, one of the professors from school (was it Professor Burbage or Vector?) tracked us down, showed us a spell or two to prove it, and gave us a letter. I could tell you about the troll that attacked the dungeons in our first year. Or I could tell you how, in second year, a giant killer snake had been set on the muggle-born students.

But no.

I don't think those stories are mine to share. No, I think, for us, the weirdness really begins in our third year: the year we came face to face with the Prisoner of Azkaban.

1993... The end of summer ... Ah, summer. A time for leisure, recreation, and takin' 'er easy.... Unless you're me. For me, summer means survival. It means staying one step ahead of the London police, because all they see is a teenager looking for trouble. It means not knowing when your next meal will be or if you'll be able to find a comfortable place to sleep that night. But most importantly it means trying to keep yourself together. Because for my sister and I, summer means going back to live on the streets.

We've been homeless for as long as I can remember. I'm not sure if we've ever had a family before ── aside from each other that is. Don't remember ever having a mum. No dad in the picture either. No other family of any kind. Foster system sucks; so there we were. Alone and in desperate need for money to pay for our school supplies in the upcoming year. That's the only reason we were at the mansion. Unfortunately, my sister kept forgetting that fact, and thus she got distracted every two seconds.

"Oh my god!" I was supposed to be helping her down on the other side of the gate, but she had stopped mid climb, opting to instead sit on the fence with one leg swung over. Her mouth dropped as she stared at something in the distance.

"What?" Maybe I was a bit shorter than necessary, but she was going to get us caught, just sitting there. I didn't want to have wasted a whole day planning this thing out for nothing.

Matilda looked down at me like I was stupid, but the effect was diminished a bit by the fact that the wind kept blowing her hair in her face, making her look like the stupid one. "Did you not see their house?" I actually hadn't paid much attention. It wasn't that important, since we weren't going inside. We'd be staying on the front lawn the whole time. That was where my focus was. "It's huge!" She threw her arms out, almost falling off the fence.

I winced as she steadied herself, but she didn't seem discouraged in the slightest. She kept her gaze in the distance, a misty haze in her eyes, as if she was staring at something from a dream. "I can't believe the Malfoys actually get to live here."

The Malfoy's were one of the wealthiest families in wizard society. They had more rubbish than should have been considered legal and thought themselves above everyone else because they were what were considered "pure" blood wizards, which basically just meant they had a long history of shagging their own cousins (personally, not something I'd brag about, never mind advertise to the world, but each to their own, I suppose). They were also the owners of this mansion and the hosts of this oh so lovely party Matilda and I were going to be crashing.

"Just come on, Tilly. Before they notice you." We needed to hurry up. Timing was everything. And it wouldn't do anyone any good if my sister stayed on the fence all night, gawking at the Manor.

Technically, it should have been impossible for us to break in (the Malfoy's had the whole Manor charmed with protective spells so that no one could get in unless they wanted them to), but our informant had given us a magical gizmo that would take care of that little problem for us ── a small, crystal orb with thick, black smoke swirling at its center. The Clandestinian Orb, or as it's known in the Wizard's Black Market, the Trikkstrr Bomb (both terrible names, if you ask me, but I didn't name them, so whatever, I suppose).

The Orb was designed specifically for thieves who were after a big game (like if you wanted to rob a goblin's bank, or a bunch of rich pricks at some snobby party). It momentarily turned off all security measures, making sneaking in and out a breeze. Supposedly, it was only a small blip; no one would notice unless they caught you using it. There were only seven in existence and almost no one knew about it unless they knew how to navigate the Wizard's Black Market. The Orb seemed to be working so far, but I was still nervous. It didn't matter how well thought out the plan was, anything could happen at any moment.

My sister did not share my sentiments.

"Would you relax, Maggie?" Let me be perfectly clear when I say this: my sister is the only one ── and I do mean the only one ── who is allowed to call me that. "It's going to be fine. Nothing bad will happen tonight."

"Just come on already! Stop wasting time, it's just some stupid mansion."

Matilda rolled her eyes. When she jumped down, she landed hard on my foot. I got the feeling she did it on purpose, so I punched her back.

She glared at me and, rubbing her arm, climbed into the hedges. I followed her. She was grumbling something along the lines of, "Why must you always be so negative about every little thing?" I chose to ignore that one. It wouldn't be helpful if we started arguing about something as dumb as the Malfoy's residence.

We crawled along in the mud for a few yards, until we found what we were looking for: an overly large clearing. The gaps in the perfectly trimmed hedge were few and far between, but it was enough to make out what was in front of us.

Acres upon acres of unneeded land. The lawn was in mint condition thanks to the tireless, endless hard work of the socialite's slaves ── er, sorry, they're called house elves. My mistake. There were plants dotting the property and animals roaming the yard that I couldn't name if I tried. A massive fountain at the center of it all. And of course there was that stupid, excessively big, sorry excuse for a house my sister mentioned earlier (and yet, I had to resort to thievery just to get my sister some clothes that actually fit her...Not that I'm resentful or anything, I just think the Malfoys are pricks).

Tables were set up all over the clearing covered with expensive cloth; utensils made from real gold and irreplaceable glass plates and cups placed on the surface. It was the fellowship of the elitists. A hundred or so pretentious party goers (though what exactly they were all celebrating I'll never know, maybe they just needed something to throw their money at); idiots gathered in packs, sipping wine (or the wizard equivalent anyway) and laughing obnoxiously at some offensive joke that only they thought was funny.

Golden watches, pearl necklaces, rings made from diamonds. That alone could get us almost six hundred galleons (wizard money), and these people were just flashing it all about. They were practically begging me to steal it from them. It's not my fault. Not really. They should be more careful with their personal belongings. And they shouldn't have made it so easy to get in. I mean, how could I not take advantage of them? Besides, it wasn't like they'd be missing any of it; they could always buy themselves more rubbish to replace the crap we stole. My sister and I, on the other hand, could not. It seemed like a pretty fair deal to me.

Matilda squealed without warning (knowing her that could mean anything from 'gross I just saw a rodent!' to 'look at the glitter on this pamphlet I just made!' ).

"Sh!" I snapped, jumping to cover her mouth. A quick check. The party-goers hadn't heard a thing. They were too absorbed in their own undeserved privilege to take much notice of my sister and me hiding behind the hedge. Good.

Something wet and slimy rolled over my palm, and I jumped away from my sister. "Ugh! Did you just lick my hand? Gross!" I wiped my hand on my pants as Matilda started shaking with silent laughter. "Seriously?" She had the biggest, stupidest grin that I'd ever seen, and had we been at school where we were actually allowed to use magic I might have hexed that look right off her face (well I might have been able to get away with it since adults were nearby and that rule is only really for muggle-born kids anyway ── but let's not get into political nonsense right now; we were trying to remain covert, I figured it was best not to risk it).

"What were you screaming at, anyway?"

"I wasn't screaming, idiot."

"Kind of sounded like you were."

"No, I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were!"

"No, I ─"

"Fine, whatever! What's the matter with you?"

An albino peacock answered that question for her. It was strutting through the hedge as cocky as the people who owned it. Tilly beamed and pointed at it, as if to say I want one of those! The peacock stared back, almost like it was thinking, What are these filthy hobo children doing in my hedge?

"Note to self: find a new partner in crime," I muttered, turning back to the rich idiots. Matilda stuck her tongue out at me, but that's to be expected. She's very childish that way. And I'm not just saying that because she's my sister and I'm obligated to dislike her.

While Tilly was chasing after the peacock in a lame attempt to pet it, I was getting on with what we'd come to do. Well, trying to. The bird kept running away from her, squawking like mad, as if yelling, 'eww get this ugly human away from me, please! Don't let it touch me!' It was a bit distracting.

"Tilly, would you leave that thing alone! We don't have much time." When I looked back at her, she had managed to wrestle the peacock to the ground, and now she was on top of it, forcibly petting the poor thing. Now, I know what you're thinking, and yes. My sister is, in fact, a psychopath.

[Ouch! She just hit me for that. See what I mean? Psychopath.]

After a moment, the peacock managed to escape. It wasted no time in flying away, very fast and very far. Of course, that didn't stop Matilda from latching on to its tail and trying to go with it. She was so dumb sometimes. I was starting to regret taking her along with me.

It didn't take long for her to get distracted again, gawking at the women's dresses. "Just look at that trim! Flawless!" I rolled my eyes and started to round the corner. Fine. If Matilda wanted to be useless, let her. But I was going to finish the plan with or without her help.

The sooner we could leave the better. I hated places like this. They were too big, too excessive, too much. I didn't need all this, just enough to get us by. My sister didn't agree. She wanted to be just like these people, for some unfathomable reason. It was a girl thing, I guess, being pretty and fancy. Or maybe it was just a Tilly thing.

There was a clothes line not far away from where the party had been set up. I noticed that every single one of the house elves were carefully stationed far away from here (there was this weird rule about giving elves clothes; if they were handed so much as someone's left shoe it would free them from their slavery). I guess, after their last mishap (this elf named Dobby got away from them via a sock and a book), the Malfoys didn't want to risk losing any more of their "help."

At least, it made taking the robes a lot easier.

"Ooh! I want those ones!"

I jumped. "Tilly!" My sister had materialized next to me without my noticing. Guess she planned on being helpful after all (or, more likely, she just wanted to touch the rich people's robes, but whatever).

She wore that stupid grin of hers again. "Yeah, Maggie?"

I groaned, "Just come on."

We ran across the lawn as fast as we could without being spotted. It wasn't hard. Everyone was hyper focused on the party. Matilda went straight for the dress she had seen from the hedge: this light blue thing with white flowers running down the skirt made from this really scratchy looking material (look, I don't know anything about "fashion," all dresses look the same to me). I guess it must have belonged to Narcissa Malfoy, since she's the only woman in the house (as far as I knew).

It was too long for Tilly's short self, but Matilda didn't seem to care. She was already slipping it over her street clothes. "Ooh! I love this so much!" Tilly giggled, spinning in circles so the skirt of the dress puffed out. "Can we keep these?" She came to an abrupt stop when she tripped over the bottom of the dress, but she was still grinning even as she stumbled.

I hesitated. Stealing anything that we couldn't fit in our pockets was risky. But Matilda was staring at me with this look that could make Satan himself feel guilty. Her eyes get all watery, and she pouts her lips, and basically just looks so stupidly childish that it was impossible to say no. But I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd already won. "What do you want a dress for?"

"Look pretty," she said.

"Yes, but why?"

"'Case I meet a cute girl or summin', I dunno." She gasped and did a little twirl when she jumped in the air. "Ooh! Maybe we'll have a school dance!"

I rolled my eyes at that. "Since when does Hogwarts have dances?"

She shrugged. "Might be a new thing. Who knows? So, can I keep them? Look, Momma Malfoy has two more just like it." She pointed at the clothes line. "She won't miss these."

I sighed. "Fine, I guess..."

"Really?" If possible, her grin grew even bigger, and I knew I was going to wind up regretting this decision some day. "Yay!" She knocked the wind out of me when she hugged me. For a second, I lost sight of all my surroundings. Matilda likes to suffocate people with her hugs. "Did I ever tell you, you're the best brother I've got?"

"I'm the only brother you've got. Get off!" I shoved her away from me, rubbing my sides. She was still jumping up and down when I went back to the clothes line. At least she was happy, I suppose.

I tried to pull my disguise down too, only every time I went to grab something Tilly would make these disgruntled noises like I was choosing the wrong one. After the fifth or sixth time this happened I gave up. "You know, since you feel so strongly about it..." I made sure to put all my annoyance into it when I gestured to the clothes line. Sisters, I'm tellin' you...

"Thank you." She threw her nose in the air and strutted back to the line, but the attitude was lost because the dress kept falling off her shoulder and she kept tripping over the length. I tried not to laugh too much, if only because I was afraid she'd throw one of her shoes at me.

Tilly circled the line several times, but she didn't take anything down. She looked at, like, ten different robes, shook her head and moved on to another one. A few times she circled back around to these black robes that looked a bit like a tuxedo or something, and I thought she'd finally made up her mind. But no. After a while she disappeared behind the clothes, and I couldn't see what she was doing.

I checked my watch (well, I say my watch, but I'd actually nicked it off some muggle man last month). This was taking forever. We needed to speed things along. The fascists' party wouldn't last all night, and I didn't fancy trying to explain how we got on the property if the Malfoys found us out. "Tilly, hurry up."

"Just a second!"

"It's been six hundred seconds!"

Her head poked through the robes, the fabric of another dress flopping over her face. "And that's... ?"

"Ten minutes! Learn math, you disgrace!"

"Bite me." She ducked back into the line of clothes. "Almost done."

Done with what? "You're wasting time."

It was another three minutes before Matilda pushed the extra clothes out of her way and stepped back into view. "Annnd... perfection!" She held up the robes like they were some grand prize. "You like it?" I suppose she'd done some mixing and matching to make the fancy garments even more fancy, but I couldn't tell what. Like I said, I know nothing about "fashion."

"Er ── wait, those aren't Draco's clothes are they?" Draco (or as I liked to call him 'That Rich Twit' ) was the Malfoys' son. He was in our year and was in the same house as me in school (Slytherin). He was also the biggest pratt in the universe, and I hated everything about him. Hence the robbery.

"Well, duh." Matilda rolled her eyes like I was being a moron. "It has to be Baby Malfoy's, because you're both clearly a fall aesthetic, and Papa Malfoy is more of a winter."

I had no idea what she was on about, but there was no way in Merlin's obscenely long beard that I was going to share clothes with The Rich Twit. "No. Nope, nuh-uh, not happenin'!"

Matilda rolled her eyes. She shoved the robes at me. "Just put them on, you wuss."

"Ow! Oh, my god, it burns!" I dropped the robes the second they touched my hands. I know, I was being dramatic, but I wasn't going down easy.

"Now who's wasting time?" Matilda complained. She had her arms folded over her chest and her eyes narrowed in a way that suggested she thought I was being a baby. I was, but that's not the point.

"But, Tilly, it smells like a twat."

"Oh, for the love of ─ you're the one who said 'let's get disguises!'"

"Yes, but you're the one who wants me to dress like a twit."

She made a noise that I figured meant 'You are the twit.' "Wear one of his mother's other dresses, then, but I'm tellin' you now, you won't look good in maroon. It's not your color!"

I scoffed, "Well, I think I look fantastic in everything!"

"So, make a fantastic twit and come on! Aren't you the one who's going on about 'time is of the essence?'"

"Yeah, I'm a hypocrite, so what?"

Matilda set off muttering curses under her breath. Now, when you grow up on the streets you over hear some seriously foul language, so it shouldn't come as much of a shock when I tell you my sister got very creative with those swears. I won't repeat them, just in case you've got children reading over your shoulders. But, you know... she has a foul mouth. Not me, though. I'm the good twin.

[ That's her in the background trying to say I'm actually the evil twin. Just ignore her.]

I snickered, throwing the Rich Twit's robes over my own before following. We weren't exactly the same size, but they'd work well enough for what we had to do. Once the job was done I could just burn them or something.

Matilda and I made our way to the party. I left her somewhere by the fountain, slipping into the crowd of unsuspecting pratts.

Pick-pocketing is easy once you've gotten the hang of it. The idea is to disorientate the target, get them to focus on something else while you're swiping their wallets (or in this case, bags of galleons). Tilly's better at being a distraction, but I've been pick-pocketing since I was three, so it comes as something of a second nature to me. It helped a bit that they were all so self-entitled that they just glared at me when I bumped into them. They had no idea I was searching their pockets.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm a clumsy idiot..." I'd mutter and move on to the next one.

It got better with Tilly, because while they were distracted with her rambling nonsense ("You guys ever heard of Istanbul? Istanbul was Constantinople. Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople.") they were ignorant to me moving behind them, swiping all their precious unearned money. The best part was, they wouldn't even notice it was gone. They had too much of it, this tiny amount wouldn't even make a dent in their bank accounts.

We kept on like this for a few minutes, but I was starting to get the sense we'd overstayed our welcome. Besides, we'd gotten more than enough for necessities and then some; so we honed in on our last targets, chatting it up over wine by the tables.

"Brazen, where is Malfoy? Trying to be fashionably late, I suspect?" The man who'd spoken was tall, with salt-and-pepper hair, and bored, dull gray eyes that reminded me of a dead person. He had the best posture I'd ever seen, like someone had stuck a very long broom stick up his rear and a pompous glare to match, as if he were thinking 'I am far too important to be here, these people should consider themselves lucky I even bothered gracing them with my presence.'

Mac Maverick Sr. He was the father of another one of the boy's Matilda and I went to school with (Mac Maverick Jr.).

"I'm sure he's just keeping us waiting. Hoping to make an entrance, you know how he is." I recognized this guy, too. Maximon Brazen Sr. (Not sure what it is with these guys, but they have a thing for naming their sons after themselves). His son also went to school with us, and was in our year.

Brazen looked a bit like Maverick in the sense that they both had square jaws and sharp facial features and looked like they ate kids for breakfast. They both shared the same shade of pale, white skin, and similar dark hair; they're also, probably, related, seeing as how they're both "pure" blood wizards.

Incidentally, they were both, like the Malfoys, stupid rich. One look told me that they had pouches of money (statistically speaking, it's usually around three hundred Galleons they carry) on their person right then (and in case you're wondering what that's worth in muggle money, three hundred Galleons equals up to over fifteen hundred pounds, so... yeah). Maverick's was in his left pocket, Brazen's in the right.

I made sure I was hidden in the crowd, waiting for Tilly to do her thing. And if I pocketed a few solid gold forks and spoons from the table while I was waiting... Well, can you blame me? They were just sitting there. Look, I don't make a habit of stealing things I don't need, but sometimes, if it looks easy enough, I think, why not? And somehow or another the thing ends up in my pockets. I can't help it.

Maverick snorted. Neither he or Brazen had noticed me. "Of course. Dramatic bastard."

"Dramatic bastard, indeed. He'd keep us waiting at his own funeral, if he could manage it." Brazen took a long sip of his elf-made wine. When he spoke next, it sounded forced and patronizing. "Still, I suppose we ought to cut him slack, given that today is the anniversary of the, ah, accident with their second child..."

Second child? I didn't know the Malfoys had a second child. Then again, I make it a point not to give a damn about the Malfoys, except for when I'm robbing them.

Maverick hummed. He didn't seem to care at all about this alleged 'second child' and their accident; if anything he looked annoyed at Brazen for even bringing it up. "Yes, poor Carina Malfoy, killed by a snargaluff tree, very tragic story, that is. Well, the girl was never right to begin with, if you ask me. Not proper witch material, I say. I'd have been glad to get her off my hands if I were Lucius and Narcissa, but... " He swept his arm around the party. "Clearly, they are still in mourning." He scoffed into his wine glass, shaking his head like mourning a child was a bad thing. "Throwing a party for their dead daughter just to remind the rest of us how sorry we should feel for them! How obscene!"

As I listened, I was pretending to get some tea. I did not steal any cups, don't let my sister tell you any different.

"Think you're onto something in saying the girl wasn't right, Maverick," Brazen tilted his glass at the other rich muppet, as if making a toast to how utterly superior they are. I mean, don't get me wrong, the Malfoys are all pricks, but trashing a guy and his family while you're a guest at his house is just down right tactless. "Girl was an embarrassment. Came off as a filthy squib, I thought, that's why they kept her so hush, hush to the public. They know we know it too. No party can cover their stench."

That gave me pause. Squibs are very bad people in the opinion of the "pure" bloods, at least to the gormless twits like this lot, anyway. They're people born into magic families but without the family's magic, thus rendering them inferior in the eyes of the "pure." The Malfoys were one of the "purest" of the "pure" , landing themselves and their ancestors on this silly little list called the "Sacred Twenty-Eight." I'd almost find the irony in a family like them birthing a squib hilarious, if not for the fact that this apparent daughter must have had one hell of a time being raised by people like them. I felt sorry for her. The 'accident' that the knobs mentioned must have been the luckiest day of her life, which was a very depressing thought...

Maverick gave a dark chuckle and took another long sip of wine, speaking into the glass, "Oh, how the mighty fall..." The two twats snigger to one another.

See why I hate them?

I couldn't wait to rob these arseholes. Where was Tilly? At first I didn't see her and thought she might have gotten distracted by the rich people's dresses or a cute girl or something, but then I spotted her and instantly knew what was taking so long.

The Malfoys had arrived. It was kind of like one of those dumb teen films where the bully enters the room and everything stops to let them pass, because for reasons beyond me everyone wants to be their friend even though their terrible. They all looked identical. Snow white hair, ice-like grey eyes, pale skin, thin frames, and a look of utter disdain for anything less than a million galleons.

The Rich Twit broke off from his parents, moving to a group of other kids around our age. Among them was Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyal, Vincent Crabbe (because of course those two would be there; they were the flying monkeys to the Rich Twit's Wicked Witch of the West), Julian Carter (a boy who seems alright at first until you realize he's just an enabler for the Rich Twit), and obviously Mac and Max jr. I suppose they were meant to be his friends, but I was betting they were as polite as their fathers.

Not that it mattered much to Draco Malfoy. He walked in the room and expected everyone to applaud his existence. It didn't take him long to start putting on a show for his "friends." ("Mother and Father have been such a wreck since the accident.")

I decided almost immediately it would be bad if he spotted me (or more likely my sister since covert isn't really her style). There was no question: if he saw us, he would know at once what we were up to and rat us out to his mummy and daddy. But even if the pieces didn't fit together in that thick head of his, he would still give us away, just so he could make a huge scene trying to embarrass us (not that it would work; we have more confidence than that). Either way, I didn't like the outcome.

It was time to go.

I caught Tilly's eyes from across the lawn. She nodded back and disappeared in the crowd, so I assume she got the message.

The Rich Twit's parents were mingling with the other parents of the party. They circled around for a bit before coming to a stop in front of Brazen and Maverick. "Well, well, speak of the devil." He put on the most forced smile of all time, as if he hadn't just been bashing the Malfoys behind their backs. "We were just expressing our condolences for poor Carina."

"Much obliged," Lucius Malfoy said. He didn't sound convinced though; his wife didn't respond at all. She just stuck her nose in the air. I think they both knew this guy was full of it.

"How long has it been now?" Brazen asked. He did a better job at pretending he cared, but it still sounded condescending. I might have felt sympathy for the Malfoys, if they weren't, you know, a bunch of pricks.

"Two years," Narcissa Malfoy huffed. Her tone was cold, making it clear these two should tread carefully.

Apparently, they could take a hint, because Brazen was changing the topic a second later. "Ah, Narcissa, the clasp on your bracelet is coming loose."

She eyed her wrist with a look of absolute boredom. It was a silver chain with small charms dangling from them, which meant nothing to me, but I thought Tilly would have liked it. "So, it is." She unclasped the bracelet, muttering something about safe keeping as she dropped it in her pocket.

That's what you think, I thought.

Somewhere in the distance, a dung bomb (basically a magical stink bomb) went off, drawing the group's attention. I could only guess who had set it off.

[Thanks, sis!]

For a second, the Malfoys actually looked like normal, every day parents who were frustrated with their child's antics. "I thought you told Draco not to bring those out here." The Mrs. shot her husband the most scandalous look, like she wanted to tell him off but didn't want to make a scene in front of guests.

"I did!" he responded, sounding a bit defensive. "It's not my fault if he doesn't listen!" They started off towards their son, their guests following in suit, covering their noses because of the smell. As they passed, I grabbed their money from their pockets and the bracelet from Narcissa Malfoy's (hey, I might as well!).

I started for the hedge but ─

"Thief! Tuptsky sees you, you thief!"

"Oh, um... hey..." The house-elf was so small I hadn't seen him at first. It didn't help that he was hiding under the table. I hesitated. This could be a problem. "You won't tell them about that, will you?"

"Masters will be most displeased with Tuptsky if Tuptsky does not." I was about to make a break for it, but then the elf gave a great big, devious grin pretty much summed up what he thought of his so called employers. "So, I will not." The sudden use of pronouns threw me off, because you don't normally hear elves talk like that (people like to keep them uneducated in an attempt to prevent rebellion, I suppose). But that was just as well. Talking in third person was just creepy.

Tuptsky ducked under the table, and when he came back out he had a dirty, old knapsack slung over his arm. "As long as the thief does not tell the Masters I am running away."

I was starting to like this elf more and more. "You're in luck. I'm very good at keeping secrets."

Tuptsky grinned. I returned it and gestured to the hedge. "Come on, my sister and I have an escape hatch." He nodded. The Malfoys had magically cleared out the dung bomb smell now. We made a run for it, ducking under the bushes just as they made their way back over, scolding their son.

"─ are grounded for the next two weeks!" the Mrs. was saying.

"But, Mum!" the Rich Twit complained. "It wasn't even me! I left them inside like Father told me to!"

"Oh? I just imagined the ruddy things going off, then, have I?"

"I don't know. Maybe you have. I don't know what goes on in your head, Mother."

"Do not speak to your mother like that or we will make it three weeks!" his father scolded. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh, look. There's another week," Narcissa said.

"But, I ─ "

"Do you want to add a fourth?" She challenged him.

"No..."

"Then, stop arguing. Now, go apologize to our guests for disrupting the party with childish antics," Lucius told him. Draco stalked off, still grumbling at his parents under his breath.

I had to keep my fist in my mouth to keep from laughing. Maybe the frame job was a little unfair, but given that he was a bigot and a bully I didn't really care.

"C'mon. Hatch is this way," I told Tuptsky. He followed me back to the fence where Tilly and I had left the Orb. She was waiting for me there and eyed the elf when she saw I wasn't alone. "Who dat?"

"New friend," I told her.

She grinned. "Cool."

Without further ado, we hopped the fence, grabbed the Orb from where it lay in the grass and ran off into the night with all the loot.