{"sf1_id":1044798,"sf2_id":"A1prag3m","title":"In the Service of Mystery (Pt. 9)","author":"CofEFur","words":2716,"posted_at":"2016-07-12T08:17:00.000Z","tags":["Canine","Character Development","Clean","Collie","Hare","Horse","Labrador","Lynx","Otter","Plot Development"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1044798-in-the-service-of-mystery-pt-9","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/A1prag3m","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/71/04/710436f9-5c41-448a-bbd7-6caaefce5ee2","description":"#10 of In the Service of Mystery\n\nFather Francis has a revelation for Harry. A little about the nature of Francis' work.","content":"I groaned.\u0026nbsp; By now we had reached the vicarage.\u0026nbsp; We walked down the path while Charlie rummaged in the boot of his car.\u0026nbsp; I unlocked the front door and heard muffled scraping and cursing as Charlie dragged a suitcase up the gravel path.\u0026nbsp; As Charlie reached the door, Harry took the case from him and hefted it easily with one paw.\u0026nbsp; The little hare shot a look at him, but I could see that there was no malice in it.\u0026nbsp; After all, they had been friends for longer than I had known them.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I pushed the front door open and stood aside as Harry and Charlie entered.\u0026nbsp; Harry headed up to the guest bedroom and I led Charlie through to the kitchen.\n\n'Sit down, Charlie.' I said.\u0026nbsp; 'Do you want a drink?\u0026nbsp; I've got a nice bottle of red somewhere.'\n\nCharlie nodded, so I pulled out some wine glasses from a cupboard and hunted out the wine. When I turned back to the table, Charlie had taken the knife fragments out of their tissue paper wrapping and laid them out.\u0026nbsp; I put the bottle and the glasses down and drew up a chair.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Harry came clattering into the room.\u0026nbsp; He tweaked at the cuffs on his shirt.\u0026nbsp; He looked much more comfortable in his own clothes, even though he pressed his shirts so that they would pass a parade ground inspection.\u0026nbsp; My shirts usually looked more like they had been enthusiastically ironed by the kids at the school.\n\n'Would you like to do the honours?' I asked him.\u0026nbsp; 'There's beer in the fridge if you'd prefer it.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Harry picked up the wine bottle and I headed into my study.\u0026nbsp; I ducked under my desk and pulled out a cardboard box that contained some of the things that my father had left me.\u0026nbsp; The box had sat under my desk since I moved to the village and I hadn't opened it since my father's funeral - for several years it had been gathering dust in my mother's attic.\u0026nbsp; Carefully, I split the packing tape with a claw.\u0026nbsp; I folded back the flaps and reached inside.\u0026nbsp; I was looking for some books that my father had written on the subject of deliverance ministry and possession, but my searching paw encountered something else.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It was a photograph, faded with age and creased from having spent its life in a wallet or purse.\u0026nbsp; With great care I unfolded it.\u0026nbsp; The photograph showed my father at about my age, or maybe a little older and me as a teenager.\u0026nbsp; I looked distinctly uncomfortable in a formal suit, one ear inside out and the fur on my head sticking out at wild angles.\u0026nbsp; My father, on the other paw, was resplendent in the robes of a cathedral canon.\u0026nbsp; He had one paw on my shoulder and a beaming smile on his muzzle.\u0026nbsp; The memory came flooding back.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It was the day of my confirmation.\u0026nbsp; I had been one of thirty or so candidates.\u0026nbsp; The old bishop had preached a long and rambling sermon; my father had to keep nudging me to stop me fidgeting.\u0026nbsp; I didn't remember much about the confirmation itself; only the weight of the bishop's paws on my head, pressing my ears uncomfortably against my scalp; and the reassuring pressure of my father's paw on my shoulder.\u0026nbsp; It was after the confirmation, just before the photograph was taken, that I had quietly told my father of my wish to follow in his pawsteps into the priesthood.\u0026nbsp; He had laughed, but, even after all those years, I've remembered the pride that had tinged his voice and the smile that lingered on his features.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I held the photograph in my paw and found my memory wandering to less pleasant things.\u0026nbsp; It was during my second year at seminary that my father had died.\u0026nbsp; I was called into Father Lutra's study and found the old otter standing there with a horse in police uniform. Father Lutra told me to take a seat, the police officer sat opposite me.\u0026nbsp; She removed her uniform cap and placed it on the low table between us.\u0026nbsp; She brushed her mane back between her ears and fixed me with a doleful gaze.\n\n'Mr Shepherd?'\u0026nbsp; She asked, her voice level and calm.\u0026nbsp; I stared at her, confused and worried, my tail trying to tuck itself between my legs.\u0026nbsp; I nodded dumbly.\n\n'I'm Sergeant Lamri, I'm the family liaison officer for the traffic policing unit.\u0026nbsp; I'm terribly sorry to have to bring bad news.\u0026nbsp; There has been an accident on the Newton Road.\u0026nbsp; Your parents were involved.\u0026nbsp; Your mother has been taken to hospital; I'm so sorry, but your father was pronounced dead at the scene.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; After that I remember nothing, the scene fades away from me.\u0026nbsp; Later I was told that I had stood up and walked out of Father Lutra's study in silence.\u0026nbsp; I was apparently found in the seminary chapel a short while later in floods of tears.\u0026nbsp; Then, I was collected by Sergeant Lamri.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The next thing I remember was sitting in the police car being driven into Newton.\u0026nbsp; By this point my mother was in a coma and the authorities had needed someone to identify my father's body.\u0026nbsp; I was escorted to the county pathologist's laboratory where the mortal remains of my father well laid out on a stark metal table under a white sheet.\u0026nbsp; Again my memory fails me.\u0026nbsp; The shock and terror of such a loss robbed me of the final time I was able to see my father's face.\u0026nbsp; What remained of the memory was the smell of disinfectant and plastic.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Almost without thinking, I carefully folded the photograph and pushed it into my pocket.\u0026nbsp; Then, I was brought back to the present by the sound of the cork popping out of the wine bottle in my kitchen.\u0026nbsp; I wiped the tears from my eyes and did my best to brush the tear tracks out of my fur with my paws. I heaved the whole box off the floor and carried it through to the kitchen and plonked it on the table. \u0026nbsp;Once I had put the box down, Harry waved the bottle of wine at me and said:\n\n'Are you having a drink, then?'\n\n'Yeah,' I replied, 'Could you grab me a beer?'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Harry nodded and opened the fridge.\u0026nbsp; Beside me, Charlie had put down his wineglass and started pulling books out of the box at random.\u0026nbsp; Charlie was a lifelong bibliophile and it was a sight to behold as he pulled each rare volume into the light: his ears twitched with joy as he turned every volume over in his paws.\n\n'_Canis et Cultus_!'\u0026nbsp; He enthused.\u0026nbsp; 'Gerhard von Pferd's study of ancient canine purity cults!\u0026nbsp; First edition!'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Slowly the little hare disappeared behind a towering fortress of antique books until all that was visible of him with the tips of his ears.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Harry pressed a bottle of beer into my paw.\u0026nbsp; I took it gratefully and drank.\u0026nbsp; I settled back in my chair and, to a background of excited squeaks from Charlie as he discovered another papery gem, I carefully selected a few volumes.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Harry looked at a few of my chosen titles and said:\n\n'_Triumph over Evil; Fox and Spirit,_ how did you get into all this weird stuff?\u0026nbsp; I mean to say, surely there's no call for exorcists anymore?'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I sighed quietly.\u0026nbsp; I wasn't particularly happy about explaining deliverance ministry at the best of times (films have much to answer for); also, I learnt most of what I knew from my father and those memories were very raw.\u0026nbsp; Nevertheless, my sorrows were nothing compared to Harry's and I didn't begrudge him an explanation.\u0026nbsp; I shuffled through the books and held up a slim volume, it binding worn from years of use.\n\n'This is still the key book for deliverance ministry.'\u0026nbsp; I said, waving it at Harry.\u0026nbsp; '_The Rescue of Souls_ by Giovanni Tasso-Meles.\u0026nbsp; It's out of date, but Tasso-Meles had a wonderful grasp of how the mind works.\u0026nbsp; He also lists the most common forms of \"possession\".\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; 'Tasso-Meles said, and my father agreed, that the right prayer and the right ritual could calm a troubled subject.\u0026nbsp; My father realised that much of the rites of deliverance had historically centred around the name of the demon, evil spirit, or whatever - this is vital.\u0026nbsp; Knowing something by name is powerful, Harry, and, as Tasso-Meles said the evil must then be abjured by name and in the name of the highest.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Harry looked at me and scratched at the tuft of the on the top of his ear.\u0026nbsp; He thought for a moment.\n\n'But, what if they're just mad?\u0026nbsp; Surely we can't subject parishioners to something like this if their ill?'\n\n'Not anyone can perform the rites.\u0026nbsp; They have to be licensed by the Bishop and have consulted with a psychiatrist first.\u0026nbsp; Anyway, this is different.\u0026nbsp; You saw what happened.\u0026nbsp; That was downright weird.\u0026nbsp; Don't laugh, but that seemed occult.\u0026nbsp; I don't like to think like this, but someone or something is in control.\u0026nbsp; I'm sure I read about something similar in one of these books once, a fleeting reference, but there was definitely something.'\n\n'It was weird all right.'\u0026nbsp; Said Harry.\u0026nbsp; 'I still can't believe that we actually have exorcists.'\n\n'Well, you're looking at him!'\u0026nbsp; I said, wagging my tail with excitement and trying to put on my I'm-just-a-normal-guy expression.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; To be frank, I had honestly thought that Harry knew about my appointment.\u0026nbsp; It wasn't something that was publicised, but normally local priests were told.\u0026nbsp; I was dead wrong.\u0026nbsp; Harry's jaw dropped open and he simply stared at me stop\n\n'I know I joked about you being an exorcist, Nerd,' He said eventually, 'But, I thought this was just... You know... Academic weirdness.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I shrugged, I knew what was going to come next.\n\n'So,' Said Harry, 'Have you erm...'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; He twiddled a paw vaguely in the air.\u0026nbsp; This, sadly, always brings out the puppy in me and the schoolyard humour.\u0026nbsp; I sprang out of my chair and waved my paws dramatically over my head.\n\n'What?'\u0026nbsp; I said in my best amateur dramatic voice.\u0026nbsp; 'Do you mean, casting out demons of unbelievable power and malice?\u0026nbsp; Slinging them down to the lowest circle of Hades?\u0026nbsp; Sending them back from whence they came; to the foul pits of angry mice who nibble on your tail for all eternity?'\n\nI grabbed my tail and started making squeaking noises and snorting with laughter.\n\n'No,' I continued, 'It's not really like that.\u0026nbsp; It's closer to counselling and liaising with priests to help them in pastoral things that aren't run-of-the-mill.\u0026nbsp; It's about caring for parishioner first and foremost.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Harry looked disappointed.\u0026nbsp; I could just make out Charlie staring at me over the top of a stack of books - I think that he'd seen my performance before and still wasn't impressed.\u0026nbsp; I grinned at them both and sat down again.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I picked up the tag which should come with the schools' fragment of knife.\u0026nbsp; There was something about it that had been nagging at the back of my mind.\u0026nbsp; After a moment's thought it came to me: the knife had come from the Oxfold Estate.\u0026nbsp; After my meeting with Arthur Oxfold, I was feeling wary of having anything to do with him and his family.\u0026nbsp; I put the tag back on the table and gently tapped it with a claw.\n\n'Arthur Oxfold,' I said, 'Him again.\u0026nbsp; You can't turn anywhere in this village without his name cropping up.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Both Harry and Charlie started to speak at once.\u0026nbsp; There was a moment of confusion and apologies while they sorted themselves out.\u0026nbsp; In the end it was Charlie who spoke.\n\n'I ought to be going, Francis.'\u0026nbsp; He said.\u0026nbsp; 'Can I borrow these?'\n\nHe held up a couple of volumes.\n\n'Sure,' I said, 'Just don't adopt them!\u0026nbsp; I think you still got some of my books and seminary.'\n\nCharlie pulled on his ear.\u0026nbsp; I know that he thought his love of old books was a bad habit and I never got tired of teasing him about it.\n\n'Ah, yes.'\u0026nbsp; Said Charlie.\u0026nbsp; 'I'll try and find them.\u0026nbsp; Thanks Francis.\u0026nbsp; Harry, I'll see you soon.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; With that, the little one stood up and made his way to the hall, the pattering of his paws slowly fading and a quiet click as the front door closed.\n\n'He hasn't got any better at goodbyes!'\u0026nbsp; I said to Harry.\u0026nbsp; 'What were you trying to say?'\n\n'I was going to ask: who exactly is Arthur Oxfold?'\u0026nbsp; Replied Harry.\u0026nbsp; 'You've mentioned the name Oxfold, but what's so important about Oxfold?'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I settled back in my chair and scratched my muzzle.\u0026nbsp; I was trying to work out how best to explain what little I knew about the politics of the village to Harry.\n\n'As I said earlier, the Oxfolds were pretty much given the village in payment of being mercenaries in the Middle Ages.\u0026nbsp; As far as I can see the current Lord of the Manor, Arthur, is carrying on the fine Oxfold family tradition of feudal leadership.\u0026nbsp; Just like his ancestors, I think that Arthur Oxfold is trying to keep the populace under control with a mix of generosity and fear.'\n\nI paused for a moment, and then added:\n\n'And, this is only a guess, but also with pagan rituals.\u0026nbsp; You see, I have a tiny congregation here even though this is a large village; half of the village isn't even baptised - baptism isn't a big family event like in some rural communities.\u0026nbsp; The only reason that I'm priest just for this village, is that the parish has a couple of rich patrons who live overseas and they are determined that there be a priest in the village for all its inhabitants.'\n\n'That's a pretty wild guess, Nerd.'\u0026nbsp; Said Harry.\u0026nbsp; 'I've met a few pagans and they are harmless.\u0026nbsp; I can't see how new-age things can control a village.'\n\n'This isn't the whole dancing around stones kind of thing.'\u0026nbsp; I replied.\u0026nbsp; This isn't just crystals and animals wearing bits of foliage on their heads.\u0026nbsp; I think there's something darker happening and that knife is key to us finding out.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I stood up and walked over to the window.\u0026nbsp; Outside the sun was setting and the shadows were lengthening.\u0026nbsp; Even just a couple of days before, I had watched the sunset over the village and thought it beautiful, a final blessing on the day.\u0026nbsp; Now, the redness of the fading light seemed to be a coating of blood, symbolic of a community suffering; a community that has lived for too long a time under the weight of an oppression.\u0026nbsp; It was as if the village was collapsing under the load of its entire, troubled history.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I turned back to Harry.\u0026nbsp; He was slumped in his chair, his head resting in his paws.\u0026nbsp; He glanced up at me, his eyes wet with tears.\n\n'I'm sorry, Nerd.'\u0026nbsp; He whispered.\u0026nbsp; 'It's just... You know.\u0026nbsp; Ten years and all.\u0026nbsp; Sometimes it's just too much to bear.\u0026nbsp; I'm sorry.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I sat down opposite him, my paws resting in front of me on the table.\u0026nbsp; I didn't know what to say.\u0026nbsp; Harry had always been the strong one in our group.\u0026nbsp; It was his support that had brought me through the trauma of my father's death and my mother's long and painful recovery after the car crash.\u0026nbsp; I felt a touch against my left paw; Harry had reached out to me, instinctively I clasps his paw in mine.\n\n'Thanks, Nerd.'\u0026nbsp; He said.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; We sat for a while, the kitchen growing darker around us.\u0026nbsp; After ten minutes or so, Harry let go of my paw.\n\n'I'm heading to bed.'\u0026nbsp; He said.\u0026nbsp; 'Thanks again.'\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I nodded and watched as he left the room.\u0026nbsp; I sat in darkness for a while.\u0026nbsp; It had been a long and tiring day, but I was still determined to try to find out more about the Oxfold family.\u0026nbsp; That and I had to try and help Harry.\u0026nbsp; I stood up and felt the bones in my spine and tail crack as I shifted position.\u0026nbsp; I headed upstairs to bed.\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"In the Service of Mystery","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1040481-in-the-service-of-mystery-pt-8.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1048161-in-the-service-of-mystery-pt-10.json"}}