❝ When you're scared but you still do it anyway, that's brave. ❞ —Neil Gaiman, Coraline

I realize it's not without reason that professor Raymond brought up Karson Richards in our last conversation. The very next week, he shows up as a guest in the Great Hall.

Karson Richards is tall and wide-shouldered, with a neatly trimmed beard and short-cropped hair. His skin is a shade darker than Melvin's, and he walks around with a cane and a leather vest that he never takes off. Rena says it's because he loves to show off his tattoos on both arms. He also never smiles to anyone but Rena, Ralph and Melvin.

Headmaster Dashawn is taciturn about his presence at Hogwarts. He introduces Karson Richards as a consulting investigator from the Ministry, and says he will be staying for a couple of weeks to help him out with some private matters, but leaves it at that. Karson Richards sits at the teachers' table between headmaster Dashawn and professor Raymond, but doesn't appear to talk much.

"Why is your uncle here?" I ask Rena one day.

She just shrugs in return. "There's many things he doesn't tell us."

So when I tell Melvin what professor Raymond asked of me as we're walking out of a Prefect meeting, it instantly perks him up.

"He told you to tell me to ask my dad for his memories?"

I don't respond. In fact, I didn't realize that was what professor Raymond was asking of me when he used the words 'take a trip down memory lane' but now it made perfect sense. I clear my throat to hide my embarrassment. Of course that's what he meant.

"Well, he didn't put it that way, but I'm sure that's it," I say.

Melvin frowns. "How much should we believe this guy? I mean, if my dad has good reason to mistrust McBon, Raymond's helping her go into hiding should make him suspicious as well."

"Well, for starters, they're colleagues, so your dad seems to trust him. Besides, he mentioned your dad's mistrust about professor McBon and was very neutral about it. The reason he wants us to look at the memories is to understand why your dad mistrusts her in the first place." I take a deep breath. Exhale. "Listen, I was just as suspicious of professor McBon at first. Until Raymond said that everything she did was to ensure the prophecy would come true."

Melvin seems to think about that for a moment, his eyes calculating.

"I just don't get why he couldn't tell you everything himself. I bet there's more to the story than just why my dad doesn't trust McBon."

"Well," I say. "Aren't you curious to find out?"

Melvin laughs. "You bet."

I don't fight back a smile. Maybe there's hope we'll be on good terms again. He certainly seems invested in this matter just as much as I am. Maybe, after what we find out, we'll go back to being friends and he won't look at me with the same contempt that the other Prefects, and pretty much the majority of students, do.

"I'll talk to my dad tonight," he says. "But if we get the memories, where are we supposed to watch them?"

"The Hogwarts Pensieve is in headmaster Dashawn's office," I ponder.

Melvin scoffs. "Yeah, right. Like he'd let us use it. The man barely talks to us now as it is."

"Maybe we could—"

I trail off at the sound of movement to my right. My neck snaps in that direction, fast enough to catch sight of a flock of long black hair disappearing behind a column of wall. Melvin lets out a sigh of exasperation. He tips his head back, his eyes facing the ceiling.

"You heard everything, didn't you, Royce?" he asks.

The hallway is silent. Then, hesitantly, the Ravenclaw boy steps forward. The sight of him catches me off guard. My eyebrows shoot up. Walcott looks down, blush rushing to his cheeks.

"You really need to stop lurking, Walcott," I say. "It's creepy."

He bites his lip and nods. Before I can ask any questions, he brings out his wand and starts writing something on the air. I look at the fiery letters when he lowers his arm. They spell out 'I'm sorry.'

"Why were you eavesdropping?" I ask.

He hesitates at first. Then he lifts his arm again, writing another sentence with the tip of his wand.

'Whatever it is you guys are doing, I want to be part of it.'

I read the words slowly. When I look at Walcott again, he flicks his wrists. The words disappear, only to be replaced by a new combination of letters that form another sentence.

'I have information.'

"You have information?" I repeat. He nods. His eyes dart between me and Melvin, as if to study our reactions. Melvin shrugs.

"I mean, he's already heard us, so what's the point in saying no?" He turns to Walcott. "Alright, Royce, you can tag along. Figure we don't really have much to lose, even if you end up selling us out, anyway."

Though there's a note of humor to his voice as he says it, the grim look on Melvin's face is anything but comic. He's not wrong. The aftermath of the Simmons twins' betrayal still lingers. I turn to Walcott, conflicted.

He's been nice to me, but should I really trust him? Cynical is not what I am. But neither is naive. Could there be an in-between?

'I'm not a bad person,' he spells out with his wand. The look on his face is artless, as if to purposefully make me feel worse.

"Sure, whatever," I say, defeated. I can revisit my doubts later tonight, when I'm in bed. "We should find a way to use the Pensieve when Dashawn isn't in his office."

"Better yet," says Melvin, a smile forming on his face. "We should distract him from his office. Oh, this should be fun. It's been a while since I last played a prank with Rena and Ralph."

I shake my head. "I can't believe I'm about to agree to this."

"I mean, it beats waiting around for him to leave his office. We'll need to keep him away for some time, anyway."

I sigh. He's right, but the idea of breaking rules, especially with my Prefect status already on the line, makes my stomach knot. I turn to Walcott.

"You got any better ideas?"

He shakes his head.

"Great," I mutter. "Three Prefects planning to cause havoc and break into the headmaster's office."

"Well, I don't know about you, Sibi, but I've missed having some fun."

Bitterly, I realize he's not wrong. I have too.

The three of us start walking back to our respective common rooms as the Clock Tower strikes, signifying curfew. Melvin is the first to part ways as he heads towards the Slytherin dungeons.

I don't know how to feel about Walcott's company. On one hand, he's the only Prefect, other than Jackson, to not treat me with disdain. He's shown me support even when he had no reason to. We weren't friends, or house mates, and he was never even part of our group.

Was it that he had a sudden change of heart? Or was it something else? Was there more he knew that I didn't that made him trust me? He did say he had information, after all. But what kind?

We reach the seventh floor of the Grand Staircase. I turn to him with a forced smile.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," I say. "Have a good night."

He brings out a piece of parchment paper and a pencil from his pocket and writes something on it. Hands it to me. He flashes a soft smile, waves and starts walking in the direction of the Ravenclaw tower. I wave back, then step onto a staircase on the opposite direction. As the stairs start to move, I glance down at the slip of paper in my hand.

'My friends call me Wally.'

▼

Melvin approaches me and Mike at the Gryffindor table during lunch the next day. I've already told Mike everything I've learned from professor Raymond, as well as my conversation with Melvin and Walcott's interjection. He doesn't care as much about the Ravenclaw boy as I did, but he's definitely suspicious of both headmaster Dashawn and Karson Richards.

"There's way more to the story than Raymond is telling you," he says. "Actually, I would've been more cautious of that man under any other circumstances. But seeing that he's the only one willing to give us answers, I can only point the finger at Dashawn. And what's up with Melvin's dad? That guy's sketchy."

"He just gave us his memories is what's up."

We both jump at the sound of Melvin's voice. He rests an elbow on the table, a wide grin on his face as he flicks a vial in front of my eyes. It is filled with a wispy, gaseous substance.

"Didn't even have to convince him that hard," he says.

My mouth falls open in amazement. I recover, letting out a disbelieving laugh. Melvin hands me the vial and I turn it over in my fingers. The silver wisps glisten in the sunlight that's pouring into the Great Hall.

"That's incredible, Melvin."

He smirks. "I'd say I tried, but it was quite simple, really." He looks around to make sure nobody around is listening, then leans closer and whispers, "The plan is ready. When the clock hits half past one, Peeves will barge in and set loose some Screechsnaps. Filch won't be able to run after him because Rena and Ralph have covered the right side of the first floor corridor with Tar Gum."

I gasp. "You didn't just break in professor Umphassen's greenhouse to retrieve the Screechsnaps, did you?"

"Uh, well . . . Let's say I'll make sure to return them afterwards. Anyway," he continues, looking over his shoulder at Dashawn at the head of the teachers' table. "With Filch out of the way, Dashawn will have no choice but to go and investigate. Considering pretty much everyone will use the left side of the hallway to get out of the Great Hall, since it's not covered in Tar Gum, we need to use the exit behind the teachers' table. Then we make a run for his office."

"What about the password?" asks Mike. "We can't get past the Gargoyle Stairwell without it."

Melvin grins. "Transfuga. My dad told me that part. Ralph will guard the entrance while we're inside. Rena will help Peeves out in the corridors. We got some umbrella flowers from Greenhouse Three and she charmed them so that they pour water when people walk under them. That should slow Dashawn down if he walks our way."

I don't fight a smile. In reality, I've missed witnessing their pranks as much as the Richards have missed having them. Even though now is not the time for fun and entertainment, I'm grateful for this opportunity that's allowing us to relive a glimpse of those better days.

"You guys are something else," I say in amusement.

This time, it's Melvin who jumps at the gong of the Clock Tower. I glance at the wall clock. Half past one. I turn to Melvin, who has a mischievious smile on his face.

"Time for some action," he says.

As if on cue, the door of the Great Hall springs open. Peeves flies in at the speed of light, letting out a shrill laugh as he drops a series of Screechsnaps on each house table. The students rise to their feet in less than a minute, yelping or running about as the semi-sentient plants screech and squirm. Peeves' laughter blends in with the noise coming from the plants and the students' screams. Some of them are hurrying out of the door.

"There's something on the floor!" someone yells out from outside the Great Hall. "My feet are stuck!"

At this point, the teachers have risen from their seats. Half of them are trying to calm the students down or get a hold of Peeves. Others are going outside into the corridors to examine the Tar Gum.

Dashawn rises from his seat and brings his wand to his neck. "Argus!" his voice booms. "Argus, Peeves is in the Great Hall!"

He rushes out of the exit door, calling Filch's name over and over. That's our cue to make a run for it. I look at Mike, who nods. He glances at something above my head, and before I can look up too, he grabs my sleeve and pulls me towards himself. A Screechsnap lands on the spot I was previously standing.

"Thanks," I say breathlessly. Mike nods in acknowledgment.

We break into a run towards the back door behind the teachers' table. Melvin is waiting for us there, wand in hand.

"Let's go," he says, loud enough to be heard over the noise of the students.

Mike throws a cautious look around the Great Hall to make sure nobody is watching us. But it seems they are too distracted by the commotion going on around them, and too busy saving their own heads from the screeching plants Peeves is tossing, to notice. I close the door shut. My heart is racing in my chest.

Please, Henry, don't be anywhere around here now.

"This side is clear," comes Alex's voice. I look to my left—he's rushing over to us, every now and then glancing behind his shoulder to check if anyone's coming. "Dashawn is far from sight and the teachers are on the other end of the corridor. We should be good."

"Thanks, mate," Melvin says.

I look at Alex and nod in appreciation. I don't find it in me to be mad at him for being part of this. Not this time. He deserves to know the truth, too. He's one of us.

We start running in the direction Alex just came from. I can feel my pulse drumming on my wrists and temples with adrenaline. We take a sharp turn when Melvin stops so abruptly I almost crash into his back.

"Dashawn alert!" he whisper-yells, lifting an arm to halt us.

We hold our breaths and press ourselves against a column of wall. I peek behind it just enough to see Dashawn. He's having a conversation with Wally in British Sign Language. Though I don't understand a word of it, I gather what they're talking about when Wally points at a corridor behind him, the opposite direction of the one we have to take to get to the Gargoyle Corridor. The headmaster repeats the gesture, raising his eyebrows questioningly at the boy, as if to ask for confirmation.

Wally nods and flashes such a convincing smile it catches me off guard. I didn't peg someone like him for a good liar.

"Thank you, Mr. Royce," Dashawn says verbally. He hurries over in the direction Wally was pointing at, continuing to call Filch's name.

When he's out of sight, Wally gestures with his hand for us to come out. I run over to him, my friends' footsteps pounding in my ears behind me.

"You misdirected him, didn't you?" I ask incredulously.

The smile that breaks on his face this time is benign, shy even.

"That was brilliant," Alex says, patting Wally's shoulder. "Let's go now."

We run down the empty corridor. The noises from the Great Hall grow more distant with each footstep. When we reach the end, we hurry up a flight of marble stairs that lead straight into the Gargoyle Corridor.

"This is it," I pant.

The Gargoyle statue that guards the stairway to Dashawn's office shines under the lantern light at the end of the corridor. Ralph is standing in front of it, and he starts waving as he sees us approaching. We make our way over to him, out of breath.

Ralph's smile grows as he turns to Melvin. "I've missed the thrill of causing trouble."

"Oh, you're telling me," Melvin agrees with a chuckle. "You're going to stand here, right?"

Ralph nods, then catches sight of Wally. His expression grows quizzical.

"Oh, hello, Wally," he says. "Does Roxanne know you're with us?"

Wally shakes his head.

"He's helping us out," Melvin explains. "Long story, I'll tell you later." He turns to the golden Gargoyle. "Transfuga."

The statue steps aside to reveal the moving spiral stairway. I can't remember the last time I've been to Dashawn's office. It must have been at the start of the year, when he called me and Jackson to congratulate us on our Prefect statuses and give us our badges. We step into the office, and I realize it has barely changed. The typical strong scent of clove permeates the air. There's more teapots than usual on the spindle-legged tables, one of them overturned.

"Guys, over here," Mike whispers.

I whirl around to see what he has found. Mike has opened the door of a cabinet to the right of one of Dashawn's numerous shelves. He steps back as the doors proceed to open automatically, revealing a runic tabletop that glows from within. I tread carefully over at the cabinet.

On top of the table sits a metal basin, fitted with gemstones and filled with a cloudy liquid in a rich blue color. Both sides of the cabinet are lined with shelves that contain vials upon vials of memories.

"Wow," Melvin breathes in awe. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket. "Alright, here we go."

He brings out the vial of his dad's memories and pops it open. Looking at us for confirmation, he pours it slowly into the cloudy substance of the Pensieve. The silvery liquid swirls and starts to change color. I look up at Mike, who gives a nod.

"Okay," I say. "Now."

Before I have time to overthink it, I hold my breath, close my eyes and submerge my head inside the Pensieve.