On Tuesday morning, Septimus had been given a day off on strict orders from Marcia to:
"Go out and... Have fun!"
So he decided to go and pay Beetle a visit in the Manuscriptorium.

It was a warm, sunny day and Septimus smiled in the sunshine as his green Apprentice cloak billowed out behind him like a banner. He reached the Manuscriptorium and pushed hard against the heavy metal door that lead to the front office. It swung open with a ping! and Septimus stepped inside.

He noticed quite a few things that had changed at once since Beetle had been sacked from his job as front office inspection clerk. He had been begged to stay on as at lease an organiser by Foxy, Partridge and Romilly- so much so that Jillie Djinn had allowed him to remain as a Cleaver and organiser of books and documents.

Septimus could instantly see the effect that Merrin Meredith (or, as he now called himself, Daniel Hunter) was having now that he had taken over Beetle's job. For one thing, the front office was cluttered and unorganised; littered with rubbish like sweet wrappers and old liquorice. There were also many papers (some which looks important, thought Septimus,) just lying willy-nilly about the place. But most unpleasant and noticeable was the feeling of neglect and unwantedness which hung heavy in the air. When Beetle has been in charge, the whole of Number Thirtee Wizard Way had felt warm and well-cared for, as though people really did value the Manuscriptorium. Now it was dank and depressing, and not really a place Septimus would ever choose to be in if it weren't for Beetle.

Merrin wasn't even there, which seemed odd, as he had an important job. There were no scribes sat in rows of desks like normal, and the whole place seemed almost empty.

"Hello?" Called Septimus into the quiet.

For a moment there was no reply, and then,

"Wotcha, Sep!"

Septimus grinned: the trademark greeting of his best friend O. Beetle Beetle.

"Hiya, Beet," he said, walking towards the voice. "Where is everyone?"

He found Beetle rearranging a tall, teetering bookshelf with hid.back to Septimus.

"Holiday," he said, groaning under the weight of a stack of books.

"Holiday?" Asked Septimus, confused.

"It- it's a long story."
Beetle sounded wary as he plonked the books down on the floor by the bookshelf and turned around to face Septimus. Septimus gasped.

"Your face- Beetle- what happened to you?"

Beetle's left eye was surrounded by purple, blue and green bruises; his eye was reduced to a puffy slit and there was dried blood on his cheek. There was also a thin, deep cut running over his right cheek, right over his lips, and when Beetle opened his mouth and sighed deeply, Septimus could see that some of his teeth were missing.

"Oh my-" he begun, but-

"No, Sep, can you just not... Please? I've already had it from Mum, and the other clerks. I don't need it again."

Septimus thought Beetle sounded very tired and quite sad.
The young wizard was still really confused and of course anxious, and he was unwilling to allow Beetle to disregard what had happened.

"W-what happened?" He asked quietly, reaching out to his friend.
Beetle ran a hand through his thick black hair, and Septimus realised that there were bruises on his arms and hands, too.

He pulled up two stools and gestured for Septimus to sit down. He did too, wincing a little and taking a small block of ice from the nearest table. Beetle gently pressed this onto hut black eye and moaned a little- with pleasure, relief or pain, Septimus could not tell.

"Well," Beetle began with a heavy voice, "I suppose it all started about a month ago when I lost my job. After Princess Jenna had left, all the other scribes; Foxy, Partridge, Romilly, the lot- they went on and on at Miss Djinn until she let me stay on with this crappy job. It's not much, and its a bit humiliating really, such a step down... But a job's a job and it buys the food and it's better than nothing. And I was really grateful towards them- it was so nice, feeling like I was wanted, like everyone cared, you know?"

"You are wanted, Beetle!" Septimus said, shocked. Beetle smiled.

"Thanks, Sep. Yeah. I'm really lucky, I know, but..."

"What?"

"Well," Beetle sighed again. "It's just- now, don't take this the wrong way, but... You're the Extra-Ordinary's Apprentice, and you're the seventh son of a seventh son, and you've got a whole massive family who lives just around the corner. I mean, if you went missing, the reaction would be huge and there would be a big fuss. But if I went missing, Mum would be a bit worried... but that would be it."

Septimus stayed silent. He knee that Beetle was right.

"Anyway," the older boy continued, "about three weeks later, Jillie decided to have a clear out. She sent away a few of us to get out of the way, including me, but he rest of the scribes stayed. I found out later that they were called back: it was only me not there."

"What? Why?"

"I think she just wants me there a little as possible, really. I mean, my job isn't exactly urgent, is it? If I didn't go into work there wouldn't be havok, would there?"

Septimus looked down. He felt awful for Beetle.

"But that still doesn't explain why you're so messed up," he said. "What happened?"

'It was two days ago. Your brother, Simon, had been in and out frequently, speaking with Miss Djinn in private a lot. If I had more authority in the Manuscriptorium, I would probably have don't some investing, as it was a bit fishy. But one time Simon gave Jillie a small black box before he left and I saw her putting it in a box with stationary in. So, when no one was looking, I took it."

"You took it?"

"Well, how else could I find out what Simon was up to?"

"Did you find out?" Septimus was intrigued. Beetle shook his head.

"No," he said. "I suppose I should have realised, what with Sinon being a bit Darke, that he would easily find out. And... Of course he did." Beetle pointed to his face.

Septimus gasped, rage and sorrow filling him like boiling water.

"He did this to you? Simon? I can't believe this. My own brother!" He shouted.
Beetle grimaced.

"There... There's one more thing," he said, hesitating. "I... I don't know if I should show you..."

"Beetle, come on," Septimus said. "You've got to show me, otherwise I can't help you sort this out."

Beetle looked anxious, which made him look much younger, but after a moment he pulled up his sleeve as Septimus watched in awe and horror. Beetle exposed his right forearm. It was cut and colourful with bruises, but there was also something worse. Much worse.

A branding.

Branded into Beetle's arm was the word: 'silence'.

"As a reminder for me to keep it," Beetle said, very quietly.