Aaaaaaaaaaand, I'm dead. Poor beatrice.

Day Five:

“Hello, Andrea,” Dumbledore said kindly, pulling up a chair for the AE.

“Hi, Dumbledore,” Andrea said. She averted her eyes. Dumbledore chuckled.

“I’m not going to bite you,” he joked. “I just want to ask you a couple questions about these killings.”

“Do you think I was the murderer?”

“I don’t think you’re the murderer. However, you’re a very convenient person to ask, because you were in the group with Voldemort.” What were they doing in that group? he wondered for the thousandth time. That’s none of my business, he reminded himself. Voldemort asked that I respect his privacy, and I will do so. “Now, did anyone, at any time, leave the activity? Even to use the toilet or get some water?”

Andrea fidgeted and shuffled her feet. “No one did,” she mumbled.

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”

Andrea glared at him fiercely. “No one did, okay? No one in that group was the murderer! I know what you’re trying to hint at, and you’re wrong!” With that, Andrea stormed out of the room. Dumbledore sighed. So much for that conversation, he thought.

--

Claaws stared out the window, excited for the day to come. I’m very glad I haven’t been killed yet, they thought, not realizing that they risked jinxing it. Dumbledore had said that the group would continue their tour of Hogwarts and then go on a trip to Hogsmeade. Claaws was excitedly anticipating the tour, but a part of them wondered what the other group was doing with Voldemort in Knockturn Alley. Considering it was Voldemort, the answer was likely nothing good. Still, Dumbledore knew about the plan, so it couldn’t be that bad.

Unless Dumbledore didn’t know about it…

<lets><gooo><down><strs>, suggested Noon abruptly. The two of them left the room and went down to the main restaurant part. There they found a small crowd of CBers standing around, eating waffles.

Presently, Claaws heard a crash. Everyone jumped up, expecting the worst. A few awful scenarios flashed through Claaws’ head. What if someone else is getting murdered? they thought. Peering around the crowd, though, they could see Jarnen, Breeze, and Levana gathered, exchanging shouts.

“He took my waffle!” Breeze screamed, eyes full of tears. Jarnen rolled his eyes at her hysterics.

“Breeze, look,” Levana said kindly, glaring at him. “Jarnen only took your waffle because it looks moldy, see?” She speared the waffle on her fork and held it up for all to see.

There was something wrong with that waffle. Claaws could see patches of it that looked normal, but the rest of it was black and dripping some foul liquid.

“Excuse me, please,” came a familiar voice. Dumbledore swept into the room, but paused when he saw Breeze’s waffle. With a look of grave concern, he told her, “Breeze, I am quite glad you did not eat that, because it appears to have been poisoned.”

“But how? Why?” asked Levana.

“And who would poison a waffle?” asked Jarnen.

Dumbledore smiled at their curiosity. “Excellent questions! To put it briefly, someone--the murderer, probably--wanted to kill Breeze, so they cooked some form of toxin into her food. We are very lucky that Breeze didn’t eat it.”

Shaken after that near catastrophe, the CBers followed Dumbledore outside, where they met Voldemort.

“Please separate into the groups from yesterday,” Dumbledore instructed them. The CBers did so, but Claaws noticed that those from Voldy’s group seemed reluctant to return to that group. Again, they wondered what was going on in that group, and if Dumbledore knew about it.

Dumbledore led their group into Flourish and Blotts, and they all stood around the large fireplace. “We will be using Floo Powder again,” he explained. Each CBer stepped into the fireplace in turn and sprinkled Floo Powder from a jar Dumbledore handed them. When it was Claaws’ turn, they felt that same dizzying sensation of spinning round and round, then they spun right into the Great Hall fireplace. When everyone had come through the fireplace, Dumbledore swept out of the Great Hall, and the CBers trailed after him.

--

“And over here, we have the Room of Requirement.” As Dumbledore explained the room’s function, Claaws elbowed their way closer to the door. Finally, Dumbledore pushed it open and waited politely as all the CBers entered. Claaws gasped.

The room seemed to have everything they needed for spellcasting practice. There were stacks of padlocks on the shelves, presumably for casting Alohomora. Various animals (toads, cats, crows, and beetles) sat in cages at the far end. There were refreshments piled on the counter near the sink--including, Claaws noticed, a generous supply of Honeydukes products.

Dumbledore sat on a cushy purple stool at the front of the room, and motioned for the CBers to seat themselves on cushions.

“Today, we will begin practicing Alohomora, as well as continuing to progress with Wingardium Leviosa. For those who have finished, we will move on to Summoning.” The Chatterboxers nodded and pulled out their wands. “One more thing,” Dumbledore added. “Please give your companions turns with your wands. We do not want them getting bored.” He chuckled.

As Claaws and Noon took turns with their wand, their mind drifted to Voldemort’s group. Were they doing spell practice, too? Or something more sinister? A chill ran down Claaws’ spine. Were they learning the Unforgivable Curses?

After lunch, the group made its way down to the Quidditch field, where they were joined by, to Claaws’ surprise, Voldemort and his group. As the CBers socialized, Dumbledore and Voldemort whispered a bit, then Voldemort whistled sharply, getting their attention.

“We will be playing Quidditch today,” Voldemort stated. “My group against… Dumbledore’s group.” He snarled with contempt, but Dumbledore seemed unaware and smiled serenely.

“Yes. Now, we will need to transfer a few people from my team to Voldemort’s team.” The transfer was made, and in the end, Claaws and Noon were both on Dumbledore’s side.

“Let’s call ourselves Dumbledore’s Army,” Kat suggested. “Just like in Order of the Phoenix!” The rest agreed, and they spent a few minutes discussing positions and strategy. Claaws would be a Chaser, while Noon was a sub. When they broke out of the huddle, they saw that everyone on Voldemort’s team had DEATH EATERS plastered onto their shirts magically, and none of them looked too happy about it.

“Remember, do whatever it takes to win,” Voldemort whispered to his team, just loud enough for Claaws to hear.

Voldemort blew a whistle and immediately, fourteen people rose into the air. Claaws grinned in delight. Flying on a broomstick was everything they had imagined, from the wind whipping through their black dreadlocks, to the cool, misty air. They peered around through the sky for the quaffle, hoping to take possession.

Suddenly, Claaws’ broom started going berserk. Although they tried to rein it in, nothing was working. With one final jerk, the broom handle flew up, bopping them on the nose, and sent them tumbling down to the field below.

The wind whipped through their hair and made their eyes water as Claaws plummeted down. Suddenly, they felt buoyed, and their fall slowed. However, the buoying sensation disappeared with a flash of blue light, as quickly as it had come.

Claaws felt the sudden impact with the ground deep in their bones. Their skull felt like it had been split in two. Blinking dizzily, they could only focus on one thought:

I’ve been murdered.

Noon bounded up to them and began nudging their arm insistently. <clws> <dont> <diie>, she begged.

“It’ll be okay, Noon.” As Claaws weakly patted her on the head, they felt themself slipping. But they had to. Stay. Anchored. They concentrated fiercely. “I just need you to do one thing for me. One thing. Can you do that?” Noon nodded eagerly, pulled herself together, and tried to look brave. Claaws took a deep, painful breath: their last.

“Find the murderer,” Claaws whispered. Then the pain pushed them over the edge into darkness.

--

Noon blinked. And blinked again. What was going on? Claaws couldn’t be dead! They couldn’t be! Noon’s eyes grew blurry. She recalled Claaws’ last instructions. Find the murderer. In honor of them, that was what she would do. She lifted her head and bounded back to the sidelines, full of purpose.

As the murderer left the scene that evening, they glowed at having eliminated one more victim. What they didn’t realize was that they had gained one more enemy.

--

Dead: Catsclaw, Spiffycat, Emerald Frost, Autumn, Mor, harry pooooooootter!, Beatrice, Claaws

Suspects: Kitten, Ella Starburst, Andrea, Zeke

*shyly raises hand* Can I request to join Dumbledore? Please?

Darkking, I'd love to switch with you!

@Dumbledore+Voldemort, is this alright with you? 

Day Six:

Beverly woke, screaming, from a nightmare and reached for Spiffycat, only to remember her unfortunate demise. Tears started flowing down her cheeks. She tossed and turned miserably, more tears coming as she realized that she was alone in the world. Spiffycat and Emerald Frost were now dead. There was no one else, except… was there something she was missing? She thought there was.

Sighing, she turned again and tried to get to sleep. She lay in silence for a few moments, only to be disturbed by the mewing of a CAPTCHA next door.

The CAPTCHAs! Of course! She would go back home and be with Empyreal and Taoa. Glad now to have a plan, she jumped out of bed, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs. She strode purposefully through the empty bar, ignoring the bartender wiping out a tankard, and opened the door.

Only to find that it wouldn’t budge.

She yanked as hard as she could, but the only effect was her falling painfully backward. Wishing desperately for a wand with which to cast Alohomora, she tried again. And again. And again.

--

Summer woke early and headed downstairs for breakfast. Upon entering the dining hall, she was alarmed to see Beverly curled up on the floor, sobbing miserably. Summer dropped her bag and ran over.

“Beverly, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I- I- I’m all alone! And the- the-” she broke down into tears. Summer knelt down beside her, urging her to take deep breaths.

“The what?”

“The door’s locked!!”

Gasping, Summer jumped up and pulled out her wand, placing it on the door handle. “Alohomora!” she cast. There was no effect. “ALOHOMORA!” she said again, but again nothing happened. Still sitting on the floor, Beverly began to cry even harder. Summer took a deep breath, gathered as much focus as she could, and yelled, “ALOHOMORA!!!” Alas, this still did not help.

“It’s okay, Beverly,” Summer said calmly, despite her own growing fear, “Everything’s going to be alright. I’m going to get Dumbledore and see if he can help, okay?”

Beverly made the slightest little nod of her head. Summer patted her back one last time and headed upstairs to Dumbledore’s room. She barged right in without knocking.

“Summer! What’s the matter?” Dumbledore said with some surprise.

“The door is locked. And Beverly is collapsed on the ground crying. And it’s ALL. YOUR. FAULT!”

“My fault?” he asked, concerned. “Why is it my fault?”
“You’re the one who invited us here, and you’re the one who didn’t do a good enough job of investigating the murders, and you’re the one who didn’t let us leave when things got bad!”

“I promise you that I had no idea that the door was locked. Did you try Alohomora?”

“YES, I tried Alohomora! It didn’t work! Actually, you know what, this is completely useless. I’m going to try to be USEFUL and help Beverly.” She spun around and began to leave angrily.

“Summer- Summer, wait. I am trying to find the murderer, but it’s hard when no one will tell me anything. Who do you think is the murderer?”

She turned back to face him. “Well…”

--

Beverly placed her dinner plate in the sink and locked eyes with Summer across the room, motioning the CBer to come over.

“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I was, er, wondering if you might want to, um-” She bit her lip and stared at the ceiling, a bit embarrassed to be asking this. Luckily, Summer seemed to understand what she was going for.

“Share a room? Since we’ve both lost our families?”

“Yes!” said Beverly with relief. “Yes, that was what I was thinking.”

“Cool! You want to come up with me and grab your stuff?”

Beverly nodded and ran up the stairs to grab her suitcase. She darted in and out of her room as quickly as she could and continued running back down the hallway to Summer’s room. In her excitement, she wasn’t looking where she was going and ran smack into Leafpool.

“Sorry!” they exclaimed in unison, and each stepped to the side to let the other through. Then, each started forward, hesitated, and stepped back again.

“Okay, this is getting a bit silly,” said Leafpool finally. “You go ahead.”

Beverly started forward, then hesitated yet again. “Sorry, I need to get right where you are.”

Leafpool nodded and stepped aside, letting Beverly through into Summer’s room. Once inside, she closed the door behind her and placed her suitcase on the bed that had miraculously appeared since the last time she’d been here. Ah, magic, she thought to herself with a smile.

Summer opened the door with a creak and smiled to see Beverly rolling like a log from one end of the king-sized bed to the other.

“Looks like fun,” she observed, “though it does seem like you’re getting all wound up in that blanket.”

“Yeah, but it’s not a big problem,” replied Beverly. “It’s awfully cold in here.”

Summer pursed her lips and pointed her wand at the fireplace. “Incendio!” she said.

“Handy spell,” commented Beverly, not realizing the dangers of setting a fire without opening the flue in the fireplace…

--

The murderer stood in the shadows, glad to have dispatched their main enemy. But they had overlooked a major flaw: Noon was still alive. And unlike Summer, she would be very cautious in her revenge for the death of her CBer.

--

Soren knocked on Summer’s door, preparing a speech in her mind. Dumbledore sent me to check that you were okay, even though I told him everyone sleeps in sometimes… There was no response to her knock. Slightly confused, she knocked again. They’re probably just really tired, she told herself, but a niggle of doubt was growing. When there was still no response, she opened the door slowly.

A gust of smoke blew out straight into her face. When her natural tears cleared, she walked carefully into the room. There was a sputtering fire in the corner, and the ceiling was stained black with soot, but her eyes looked away from these quickly to the bodies lying on both beds. Soren ran to Summer, her eyes wide. Her fingers moved quickly to find a pulse. Alas, there was none.

Beverly didn’t have a pulse either.

Poor Beverly, thought Soren. All she wanted was a friend, and it backfired- Backfired. Oh dear. Soren sat down hard and began to cry.

--

Dead: Catsclaw, Spiffycat, Emerald Frost, Autumn, Mor, harry pooooooootter!, Beatrice, Claaws, Summer, Beverly

Suspects: Kitten, Ella Starburst, Andrea, Zeke

--

Gracia and Darkking, we will be happy to accept your request, though you'll have to wait a few "days" for it to come in. 

Yikes! I'm dead!

Smoke inhalation? Darn, I knew I should have checked if the flue was open!

It sort of makes sense, though, in a gruesome way. I was interfering too much with the murderer's plans, so they killed me.

Aww, poor Beverly. Now Spiffy's entire crew is dead.