Chapter 50

Thanks to everyone for your nice reviews! If this story were a Wizard, those reviews would be his spells per day.

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Harry and Ron were released on Friday evening, but Milo and Hermione were obliged to stay in the hospital wing for the weekend. Gryffindor (and even a few Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw) well-wishers had brought in flowers, candy, and cards to speed their recovery. Milo wondered idly where the students had got them from, because it wasn't like there were any shops in the castle, and students couldn't just leave the grounds.

"Owl-order," answered Hermione when he asked on Sunday evening. "Also, third-years and above can go to Hogsmeade a few times a year."

Milo was disappointed at how... mundane the answer was, but liked the sound of the Hogsmeade trips once he hit third year...

Milo cut off that line of thought quickly. There's no way I'm still going to be here in two years, he thought firmly. Why, Zook and the others are probably already paying to have a whole battery of Divinations cast to find out where I am.

Totally.

...and the reason that's been two months, why, they're probably just trying to find a really good Diviner to do it. Yeah. Totally. Or a Conjurer to Plane Shift me home.

Milo sighed.

They could have at least sent a Sending once in a while, is that too much to ask?

Of course, this all assumes they weren't TPK'd by Thamior because they didn't have me to do, well, everything.

"Why the long face?" Hermione asked, full of concern.

"I think," said Milo, "that all of my friends back home might be dead."

"What?" she asked, her face gone white. "That's terrible! What... why... who... Oh, Milo, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry; that's about the worst thing I've ever heard."

Milo blinked. He'd forgotten that the people here seemed to view death as more than a mild inconvenience.

"It's not so bad," he said. "I mean, this isn't the first time it's happened."

"You don't have to put on such a brave face," she said. "It's only me."

"Where I come from, you can pay to have people brought back from the dead," Milo said simply. "It's really not such a big deal."

Hermione just stared, thunderstruck.

"That's... so..." Hermione paused to collect her thoughts. "You really are from another world, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Milo said quietly. "Everything was really—"

"Hey!" Milo heard a small, sharp voice say.

"Uh, Hermione, did you say something?" Milo asked

"Listen!" the voice said.

"What?" Milo asked, irritated. Milo got a flash of Irritation, Frustration, Annoyance from his empathic bond. "Mordy? Was that you? Since when can you talk?"

"It's amazing, really, it is," the voice (presumably Mordy) said. "You remembered to put a skill rank in Decipher Script, as if you'll ever find any use for that, but you forgot that I got the Speak With Master ability?" Mordy crawled out of his home in Milo's bag, and up his robes to talk to him face-to-face. Hermione had an odd look on her face, watching the exchange.

"Well, I feel like that's more your business to keep track of—" Milo protested weakly.

"I'm your class feature," said Mordy firmly. "Bet you forgot my Natural Armour increased, too, didn't you? No, don't tell me; I don't think my poor, adorable little rodent heart could take it."

"Yes, well, but—"

"And it's been ages since I got any share of the loot," Mordenkainen continued as if Milo hadn't spoken.

"Share of the—"

"That's right, my fair share of the loot. I do all the most dangerous jobs—distracting the Troll, spying on Snape's secret meeting with Lucius—"

"Wait, what—"

"—and what do I get in return?"

"Supernatural power above and beyond that of an ordinary rat, humanlike Intelligence, magical knowledge rivalling my own, the Skill Ranks of a level five Wizard—but that's beside the point. What's this about Snape's secret meeting?"

"Right after you were doing your 'Crime Scene Investigating' in the Forbidden Forest—I'm sorry, are you not taking me seriously? You're laughing."

"It's hard to maintain a straight face," Milo said between laughs, "when you see a rat make little air-quotes like that."

"Stay on topic, would you? Snape snuck out to meet the Smarmy Git's father, before you ask, yes, I could tell by his scent who he was but also because the Oily One called him 'Lucius Malfoy.'"

"And? What did they talk about?" Milo asked, intrigued.

"You know, I got mauled by a cat once, helping you," Mordy said.

"What happened to 'Stay on topic?'" Milo asked.

"I just wanted you to appreciate how difficult my job is, sometimes."

"Yes, yes, you're very appreciated, now get on with it."

"Well, the Sire of Smarm told the Oily One that you weren't a wizard—"

"Not a Wizard?" Milo asked, enraged. "I will end him! I'll show him which one of us isn't a Wizard when I shove some high-powered arcana down his—"

"—and that he wants the Oily One to have you expelled."

"...Huh," said Milo flatly. "Expelled? That's it?" From where he was from, enemies generally wanted you, dead, undead, re-dead, disgraced, disintegrated, detained, and/or devoured. Being expelled seemed so... unimportant. "It must only be Phase One of his plan. First, get me expelled, then, eaten by Bugbears."

"That's what I assumed as well. So, boss, what's the plan? Oh, before I forget, there's this one other th—"

"Okay," said Hermione, as if it had taken her this long to work up the courage to mention it. "What are you doing?"

"Talking to Mordenkainen," he said. "Can't you tell?"

"No," said Hermione. "It sounded like you were spouting gibberish. You can—wait, you can talk to rats? You're a... a... huh. I don't actually know if there's a word for that. A rodenttongue? Rattongue?"

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