Omk I love this. Can't wait for the next part!!! (ahahah im still alive ;))

Day Three, Part One:

Autumn blinked her eyes open sleepily. Why had she woken up? Then she realized: she was sleeping by the fireplace, and she was burning hot. Her tail even felt like it was singed. <sumr?> she asked quietly.

From atop her teal-blue comforter, Summer rubbed her eyes and groaned. “Yeah?”

<goin><togo><slep><inth><hall>

“Okay,” Summer agreed, closing her eyes and flopping back onto her mattress.

Autumn clamped her teeth around one of the ornamental tassels of her luxurious gold silk pet bed. Tugging on the threads, she dragged the bed through the bedroom door and into the blissfully cool hallway. Sighing, she snuggled into the soft folds of fabric. She felt gentle hands pick her up, and smiled, assuming it was Summer. But it wasn’t. These arms were unfamiliar.

“You know what else they call you, Autumn?” a voice whispered in her ear. “Fall. That’s what you’re going to do.”

Autumn’s eyes widened as the murderer began to walk toward the window and her brain registered the meaning of the words. <nono!> she yelped. Frantically, Autumn scrabbled her claws against the person’s arm, but they ignored her, reaching the window and placing her on the sill.

“Goodbye,” the murderer whispered, and pushed her out the window.

<sumr!> Autumn shouted, hoping her friend would hear her. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact. A gasp escaped her as knives pierced her fur. Then it all fell away.

—

Summer rolled over and squinted at the onslaught of sunlight in her eyes. Glancing at her clock, she saw that it was 6:53 AM. She sat up in bed.

“That was the strangest dream,” she muttered. In the dream, Autumn had been stabbed by the murderer, calling her name one last time before dying. She looked over to Autumn’s pet bed for reassurance, only to find the spot completely empty. Oh, of course, she thought. Autumn was hot, so she went to sleep in the hall. Summer slid her feet over the side of her bed. They found the floor, and she walked out the doorway of her bedroom into the hall. There was the golden pet bed, but no Autumn. She’s probably just wandering the building, Summer reassured herself. Nevertheless, the well of fear rising within her refused to be tamped down. She walked to the end of the hallway and poked her head out the window. “Autumn!” she called into the still morning air. No response. Then she looked down and gasped.

The fox’s body was impaled on the knives of a knife cart a few stories below.

What happened? was Summer’s first thought. Did she fall? Or was she pushed? There had been several murders lately, though, so considering the pattern, the answer was probably pushed. She blinked away tears. What could be done now? Then Summer had an idea. Racing back into her bedroom, she grabbed a leaf of parchment from the desk in the corner and began writing with a quill pen.

Half an hour later, Summer climbed down the stairs to the pub. Tom the barkeep was there, eyes red-rimmed and hands holding a cup of coffee.

“Hey, Tom,” she called. “Is it okay if I put this sign on the door?” Tom looked up from his caffeinated beverage.

“Hm? Oh, sure,” he said, taking another sip.

When the CBers came down after an hour, Arwen shouted, “What’s that sign on the door?” As they got closer, Serene read it aloud.

Dearest Chatterboxers and companions,

My CAPTCHA, Autumn, was tragically murdered last night. This is not the first time such an event has happened. Catsclaw, Spiffycat, and Emerald Frost have all been similarly killed. I suggest we take a group to Dumbledore and ask him to do something about this. If we don’t, the murderer may find us next. If anyone would like to join the group that informs Dumbledore, please meet me in the Leaky Cauldron at 9:30 am.

Yours sincerely,

Summer.

“Well, what time is it now?” Harry asked, and everyone started looking around for a clock. Mor finally found one, and was about to shout out to the others, when she realized that this was a strange clock. Instead of two hands, it had twenty-six, exactly the number of CBers and companions. Each hand was labeled with an intricately engraved name, and there were different sections, like ‘home,’ ‘traveling’ and ‘work/school.’ With a feeling of dread, Mor noticed one hand was in the section labeled ‘mortal peril.’

Her own.

“Found one!” Sammy called suddenly, startling Mor out of her reverie. They rushed behind the bar, and Sammy pointed out an old and grimy clock. Its time read 9:29.

“And look, there she is!” Sammy continued. She pointed to Summer, who was walking down the stairs. She grinned and waved at them.

“Hi everyone,” she called. The crowd rushed to join her beside the stairwell. “So, CBers and companions are being murdered. We need to tell Dumbledore.”

“We sure do,” agreed Gracia.

“My idea,” Summer continued, “is to have a group of us- maybe five or six, I’m not sure- go to Dumbledore to tell him. Who wants to go with me?”

Immediately, several hands flung themselves into the air. The hands belonged to Soren, Kat, Ella, Harry, and Asthene.

Summer giggled. “Okay! You can all come with me!” The CBers and Asthene exchanged grins of delight.

—

Dead: Catsclaw, Spiffycat, Emerald Frost, Autumn

Suspects: Kitten, Ella Starburst, Andrea, Zeke (post more if you have ideas!)

NOOO!

Autumn has died!

<kkmd>

It'll be okay…

Day Three, Part Two:

Entering Flourish and Blotts was like entering a magical wonderland–which, in a way, it sort of was. The shelves were piled high with teetering stacks of books in a staggering variety of sizes, colors, and lengths. There were rickety tables cluttered with ink and fine quills. There were jars of thing Mor didn’t even have names for hanging from the ceiling, coated in a thick layer of dust.

“Cool, check this out!” NK shouted from somewhere behind Mor. Presently, she heard a crash, followed by an “awww” from NK and a “shhh!” from Levana. Privately rolling her eyes at their antics, Mor turned her attention to the divination book standing on display nearby. She was mildly interested, enough so that she gently picked it up and flipped to the first page. As she read, Mor became more and more intrigued. She read about the methods of seeing the future, about the great sages of their years, about prophecies long fulfilled and prophecies yet to come. She was about halfway through the book when the dusty silence was punctuated by a thud followed by low growling.

“Quiet, you stupid beast,” someone whispered, followed by the sound of running feet. Mor slowly swiveled around and spotted a book on the ground. She bent to pick it up, thinking, That was very careless of that person to drop that book, when she realized that this book had eyes and teeth! It lunged toward her, sinking its canines into her arm, and Mor gave a startled shriek.

Other CBers, hearing the shriek, raced toward her.

“Are you okay, Mor?” Darkking asked in a mildly panicked voice.

<fine> Mor answered just as casually.

“Do you need a band-aid?” he asked, concerned.

Mor accepted the band-aid Darkking handed her, cheeks burning. Didn’t he know she could take care of herself? She placed it on the wound, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Relieved that her fellow CAPTCHA was okay, Noon began walking away, only to whip around in surprise when she heard a thud.

Mor had suddenly perished.

Horrified, Noon stared at the bite marks around the band-aid. (With no gory detail here. The invisible narrators don’t like gory detail.) What could have happened? CBers and companions around her were exchanging shocked murmurs.

“Excuse me, please,” Dumbledore said politely, pushing through the crowd. He paused when he saw Mor. “Oh, my.” He gently lifted her arm and set it back down. “It appears she has been bitten by the Monster Book of Monsters. Its bite is poisonous.”

“Why does this shop even have that book anyway?” Andrea put in.

“We could sue them,” Zeke added coldly.

“Sue them! Sue them! Sue them!” Gracia chanted. Others picked up the chant, including NatureWriter, Kitten, and Yxek. Dumbledore held up a hand for calm.

“There will be no suing,” he gently chided Gracia. She looked crestfallen.

“It’s okay,” Serene whispered, and Gracia perked up.

“We will figure out who did this, however,” Dumbledore continued. “If any of you have any information, I urge you to come to me. Your confidentiality will be protected.”

—

Tired after the long and trying day, Dumbledore sat in his office, pondering the recent events. Several CBers had come to him in order to inform him of the seemingly random killings. First there had been Catsclaw. Then Spiffycat and Emerald Frost. Finally, earlier today, there were Autumn and Mor. Who was killing the victims? And what could their motive possibly be? Dumbledore rubbed his eyes. He was tired. And, he confessed to himself, a little frightened. All of a sudden, he heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he called quietly, and the door swung open. Voldemort strode in, sat down, and gave Dumbledore his customary glare.

“We need to talk,” he growled.

—

Dead: Catsclaw, Spiffycat, Emerald Frost, Autumn, Mor

Suspects: Kitten, Ella Starburst, Andrea, Zeke

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Such a cliffhanger!

Day Four:

Voldemort pursed his lips at the parchment in front of him, letting ink drip from the tip of his quill. With a sigh, he crossed out Zeke and Leafpool and added Andrea and Sammy.

“Wonderful, that makes an even five,” he muttered to himself sarcastically. “I had more hope for these CBers than just five.” He stared at the paper like he wanted it to burst into flames, but instead of raising his wand to cast Incendio, he took the quill again and carefully wrote NatureWriter, and a moment later, Yxek.

—

Dumbledore pursed his lips at the parchment in front of him, letting ink drip from the tip of his quill. With a sigh, he crossed out Autumn and Mor.

“How have the suspects not been narrowed down more than this already?” he muttered to himself exasperatedly. “Surely there’ve been more clues that I haven’t noticed!”

After staring for a few more moments, he yawned widely and rolled the parchment up again. He’d work on it later, he decided.

—

Yxek woke abruptly and let out a huge yawn. He flew over to NatureWriter, falling down purposely on his CBer’s stomach.

“Agh! Yxek, what?”

<haha> Yxek said with a smile.

NatureWriter groaned and rolled out of bed, muttered something about finding a bit to eat, and trudged down the hall. Yxek gleefully jumped onto the soft, squishy bed and fell asleep again. His rest didn’t last very long, however, because the fluffy purple alarm clock next to the bed went off promptly at 9:00. Not having any appendages useful for pressing the ‘off’ button on the clock, Yxek was forced to leave the room and head down to breakfast.

Downstairs, he found that he was not the only one to be compelled out of bed at such an “early” hour; no, the whole crowd of CBers and companions was standing around the dining hall, plates of sausages held tightly in their hands. (With the exception of the few vegetarian guests, who were eating pancakes instead. Dumbledore was very careful to be sure everyone was satisfied with their meals.) Yxek was just in time, it appeared, because Dumbledore was just now clearing his throat for attention.

“My esteemed guests!” he said loudly, then waited for the crowd to quiet down before continuing. “Today we will be doing two different activities. Some of you will be going with me to tour Hogwarts and others will be going with my partner to Knockturn Alley.” He paused, giving the CBers a chance to murmur among themselves. Well, some of them murmured. Breeze let out an extremely loud gasp.

“Yes, Dumbledore has given me permission to take a special few of you to one of my favorite spots in Knockturn Alley,” said Voldemort, pulling a roll of parchment out of his cloak. “Those will be the following: Kitten, Gracia, Andrea, Sammy, NatureWriter, Yxek, and Ella-”

“No! Absolutely not!” cut in the CBer in question. “I would never do anything with an evil wart like you! I’m going with Dumbledore instead.” She stared at him defiantly, as if waiting for him to question her decision, but he just shrugged and turned to Dumbledore. The two whispered for a moment, then strode off in opposite directions, calling their groups to join them.

Yxek flitted after Voldemort, intrigued to find out what they’d be doing that morning. The mismatched group drew several stray glances as they marched down the windy alley, but a glare from Voldemort turned them away instantly and had the helpful effect of clearing a path for them.

The crowd of shoppers around them became fewer and Darker the closer they came to Knockturn Alley. Upon entering the alley itself, they found themselves the only people around. Everyone else was either Disillusioned or in the shops. Or just not there at all, which seemed more likely, since the alley was decrepit and populated with sketchy-looking people.

Eventually, the group ended up in what appeared to be an empty, broken-down building. Upon entering, however, the CBers were amazed to see a luxurious room filled with cushy couches, bins of junk food, and bookshelves lined with titles such as “Dark Wizards of Our Age” and “101 Dark Curses.”

Voldemort clapped his hands sharply, causing startled eyes to turn to him. “Andrea, Sammy, Yxek, come here.” They did so with some amount of trepidation.

“You three don’t have wands, correct?”

“Er,” muttered Andrea confusedly, “We didn’t get a chance to get wands…?”

“Answer. The. Question,” he said with barely contained rage. “You don’t have wands. True or false?”

“True,” they said in unison.

“You want wands. True or false?”

“True,” they said again, but with a moment of hesitation.

He flicked his wand, and three wands of dogwood, pine, and fir shot into the respective hands of Andrea, Sammy, and Yxek. They looked down in surprise and turned them every which way, sighing in delight. They were snapped out of their admiration, however, by Voldemort calling the rest of the group to attention.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering what we’ll be doing. Before I tell you, I have to warn you that if I find that any one of you has told this information to Dumbledore, I will personally kill you. What happens here stays here.” He paused and looked around at the stunned faces. “Now, if anyone has any objection, I won’t mind if you leave right now,” he continued in a voice that showed that he would, in fact, mind quite a bit if anyone left. “No one? Very well. The first thing we will be learning is Avada Kedavra, the Killing Curse.”

There was a sudden intake of breath. The CBers looked around at each other, all having concerns, but none wanting to be the ones to share them. Come on, they seemed to think to each other, you say something. But when someone did, it wasn’t what they were expecting.

“Cool!” said Andrea. “I’ve always wanted to murder people.”

—

Harry trudged down the hall, tired after a long day of spellcasting, reading, and touring.

<pick?> asked Beatrice from beside him.

“No, I’m sorry.” He looked down sadly. “I’m too tired. We’re almost to our room, though! You can rest there.”

Harry’s feet had kept walking even while he looked down, and he suddenly realized that this might not have been a good idea. He slammed straight into someone, their book cutting into his stomach. Harry stumbled back a few paces and expressed his profuse apologies. The other person remained silent, however, and looked around nervously.

“What’cha reading?” Harry craned his neck to see. “Dark Curses? What are you doing with Dark curses?” A sudden suspicion struck him, and he began to back away. “You aren’t the- the murderer, are you?”

There was no response. Harry opened his mouth to call for help, but the murderer was faster. “Avada Kedavra!” they yelled. The last thing Harry saw was the murderer turning on his CAPTCHA…

—

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

Suspects: Kitten, Ella Starburst, Andrea, Zeke

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