Saturday gets written off with a quick jaunt to London to have lunch with my parents. My mother offers to treat me to a manicure, and before I know it, it is nearly teatime.
I spend all of Sunday and half the night talking over my gala ideas with H, finding him to be a surprisingly good sounding board. I couldn’t sleep until I was sure I had a solid plan to take into Dr Radcliffe.
Before I can present my idea and ask Dr Radcliffe for approval, I need to find Bartie, our top Eternal. I’ve barely seen him since our chat in the hallway that first day, although we have passed each other a few times and waved hello. I scour the main building, whisper-shouting his name with no luck. Would the Head of Eternal Affairs go for a walk in the garden? Only one way to find out.
I slip out one of the side doors into the terraced garden behind the main building. I check all the hidden seating nooks, spotting plenty of squirrels and birds but no Bartie. Carrying on, I enter a deeply shaded pathway, double-checking to make sure Bartie hasn’t climbed up a tree to hide himself away from his Eternal paperwork.
Finally, hearing the welcome sound of leaves shuffling, I quicken my pace to catch whoever it is before they can move elsewhere. I track the sound to a line of oversized shrubbery growing against the college fence. Right as I realise that the space is too small to hide Bartie away, H comes strolling out. “H! Where have you been? You disappeared after breakfast. I need your help!”
“Sorry, missie. Princess Fluffy snuck outta tha door when her ‘umans went ta work. A wyvern ‘as needs ya know.”
“Blech! Now I’ve got that vision in my head. You know you’ve got leaves stuck to your tail, right?”
With one flaming exhale, H resolves the problem of the leaves before turning an arched eyebrow in my direction. “Yer one ta talk. I saw ya yesterday, ya was gettin’ all chummy with Edward Thomas in tha stairwell.”
I cross my arms, indignation colouring my cheeks. “I was not getting ‘chummy’ with him, far from it. What were you doing spying on me?”
H flaps up to eye level, one long black talon pointed in my face. “Ya left me behind, r’member? Went wanderin’ off, leavin’ me ta wrap things up with Catherine Morgan. I was not spyin’! I was tryin’ to get in tha flat. I deserved a biscuit as a reward for my ‘ard work.”
Oops. I left him behind, and then I went off running without a thought. Time for a distraction. “Good news, H. Here’s your chance to earn another reward. I need help to find Bartie… There’s a plate of Lincolnshire Poacher Cheddar in it for you.”
Licking his lips in anticipation, H nods his agreement. “It’s Bartie ya need? Lemme think… Wot time is it?”
I look down at my watch. “Half-past nine, give or take a few minutes.”
H snaps his fingers. “That’s easy, I know right where ‘e’ll be. Foller me, mate.”
We follow the pathway along the fence until it twists back towards the centre of the college grounds. I eye a signpost as we pass by, trying to guess where we might be headed. With our back to the main building and student dorms on either side, there are few options.
“H, are we going to visit the new conference centre?”
“Nope.”
We walk between student housing buildings, turning again to pass by my own flat’s back entrance. H flaps a few steps ahead of me, keeping on until the far gates are within sight.
The next signpost I see has two lone indicators attached to its top. “I thought you said that we weren’t going to the new conference centre.”
“We ain’t. I told ya. Be patient, yer scarin’ tha birds away.”
I look around but can’t see anything else nearby, a sick feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. If we aren’t going to the conference centre, the only other sign said ‘Principal’s Lodge’.
I speed up, circling around in front of H, forcing him to pay attention. “We’re not sneaking into Dr Radcliffe’s house, H. If Bartie’s there, we can wait until he gets back.”
“Settle down, mate. We’re not going ta Dr Radcliffe’s place neither, although she must ‘ave some sweet snacks in her kitchen cupboards.”
Refusing to budge, I force him to confess. “Then where are we going?”
“Right ‘ere.” H nods his head towards a wooden gate I had completely failed to notice in my rush to question him. He slips by me, swooping to land on the top of the gate. His tail taps beside a metal placard.
The placard is spotless, but I can’t make out the words in the sun’s glare. I walk over, holding up my hand to block the light. “Fellows Garden?” I squint at H, suspicious. “Is this going to be like the Senior Common Room all over again?”
“Nah, ‘ardly anybody goes in ‘ere. Ya’ll be fine.” H flies off into the garden without another word.
I lift the latch and pull the gate open with a reassuring creak. Stepping under a leafy arbour, I emerge onto a landscaped lawn, complete with a burbling fountain and wrought iron benches. From here, there’s no sign of the gate which encloses this hideaway, leafy green bushes and russet-hued trees line the perimeter.
H is well ahead, coasting on an invisible air current as he leads me towards a glass-encased gazebo. From the outside, I can see window seats stretching along the inside. If that room is as warm as your typical conservatory, I may never leave.
As I get closer, I spot a masculine set of somewhat transparent shoulders sitting against a chair back, deep within the room. H raps on the door, startling Bartie enough that he rises from his seat to come let us in. As the door opens, warmth spills out, pushing back the chilly October air.
Bartie steps aside, waving us in out of the cold. “Ms
