Chapter 51

"No, just to this one. I'm the one-and-only Mordytongue," Milo said. He'd forgotten that the Speak With Master ability magically prevented anyone from understanding what he said to Mordy, and vice-versa. Handy, he thought.

"So, what are you saying?" Hermione asked curiously. "Er, that was rude. I didn't meant to pry, or interrupt a conversation, or anything, it's just that it's not every day that—"

"Mordy was telling me that Snape and Lucius Malfoy met secretly in the forest," Milo explained, "and that Lucius asked Snape to get me expelled."

Hermione frowned.

"This was when you went to the forest to investigate the Acromantula?" Hermione asked. "I'd been meaning to ask—what did you end up finding?"

"The Acromantula had a missing fang," Milo said. "And that I couldn't have killed it with the log."

"But, that means..."

"Someone else must have done it, though I didn't see it happen. I would have thought it was Quirrell, but he was very clear about the fact that he was nowhere near the scene at the time. Also, the math on the Experience Points checks out if I split it fifty-fifty with a more experienced character than myself."

Hermione blinked.

"You know, when I was in school, people said I was weird."

"Must be nice," Milo said, "to have a backstory. Seems like a lot of work, mind."

"You... you don't remember your childhood at all?"Hermione was shocked.

"Before I became an adventurer? Not really. I know that at some point, I became a vagabond street thief, but I'm not really sure how that happened."

"But that's so sad," Hermione said, her eyes misting up.

"It let me become a Wizard younger," Milo said. "It's sort of complicated, and it doesn't stand up to close inspection. It's... weird. For me. This only became a problem when I came to this world, it's like... I'm cut off from something. I don't suppose we can change the subject?"

"What were we talking about?" Hermione asked. "Oh, right. Snape trying to get you expelled. Only Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore have the authority for that," she said, "short of the Minister for Magic stepping in personally. It's out of Snape's hands."

"I guess Snape could try to set it up so that they had no choice but to—aw, crap. The potion."

"Milo!" Hermione said. "Language!" she paused for a moment. "Also, what potion?"

"For Snape's detention on Hallowe'en," Milo said. "I thought he was trying to kill me, having me make an exploding potion, but it was a test. I failed."

"Failing Potions isn't enough to have you expelled," Hermione said. "I mean, take Neville."

"Hey!" said Neville from his bunk. He was back in the hospital wing after being mauled by (and they wouldn't have believed it if there hadn't been twelve witnesses) a Flobberworm. Flobberworms have no teeth, fangs, spikes, poison, spit, anything. Their one claim to fame is their (harmless) slimy mucous. They'd quite forgotten about him.

"Sorry, Nev," Hermione said, her face pink.

"No, it's not just about being even more hopelessly incompetent than Neville," Milo said as if Neville hadn't spoken. PCs could be like that around NPCs, sometimes. "Snape told me himself: a newborn with a hint of magical blood could make that potion. All you have to do is stir it, you don't need to think about it or concentrate or anything."

"So?" asked Hermione. "What's your point?"

"I couldn't make the potion," Milo said quietly.

There was a meaningful silence.

"Maybe you had the ingredients wrong?" asked Hermione.

"No, they were perfect. Snape even checked them beforehand. It's not like I kept it a secret, I'm not a wizard like you are."

"Witch, actually," said Hermione pointedly.

"But the only thing keeping me here is that Dumbledore thinks I'm like you," said Milo, "only crazy and deluded—and even worse at magic than Neville."

"Hey!"

"No, that can't be," said Hermione. "If you weren't a wizard, the wards wouldn't let you enter Hogsmeade or Hogwarts. You'd suddenly remember an important meeting and run off, I believe."

"I suppose it depends on the exact wording of the spell. Maybe the wards target everyone who isn't 'a wizard, witch, squib, or magical creature,' or something. I don't suppose you have the spell description in the library?"

"Uh," said Hermione. "I... don't think so."

"More importantly, I've..." Milo's tongue tripped over itself. "I've..." he sighed. "I've already lost. Snape won. I'm going to be expelled."

"No, I think it would take more than Snape's word for something like this. It's completely unprecedented; the Ministry will want to be involved, Dumbledore too—and McGonagall, of course—the department that handles underage magic... the point is, I don't think we need to worry until ministry officials start showing up—"

"Hello!" said a cheerful voice, interrupting Hermione mid-sentence. Milo turned to see a portly (one) little (two) man in a pinstriped cloak and green bowler cap (three! Major NPC) standing at the entrance to the hospital wing.

Hermione gasped, her face completely white.

"Erm," said Milo. "Hello, ah, sir?" he was guessing wildly, but judging by Hermione's reaction, this was either a local king, evil vizier, or Lord Voldemort himself. Milo carefully re-arranged his blankets so they wouldn't impede him if he made a run for the window, and stuffed Mordenkainen back into his belt.

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