The Purloined Prophetess

IV: The Meeting

Larry Lovegood is my name, crusadin' with the facts is my game. My paper publishes all the news, and the best exclusive interviews. I'm a champion of wherewolf rights, and a Snorkack catcher on summer nights. My paper's name is The Quibbler, we nose up news just like a niffler.

My buiseness cards recite all that in three-part harmony. I handed one to Albus Dumbelldoor...

Hey! Don't call the Headmaster that! - R. B.

... when I visited him last week to ask if my daughter could bring Arjeplog, her pet Crumple-Horned Snorkack, to Hogwarts this year. It was a blow to say goodbye to the Snorkack when I had almost succeeded in convincing the sientific community that they exist, but Luna's about all I have in the world, and I don't like to refuze her anything. Professor Dumbelldoor seemed very interested in the exclusive interview with the Boy Who Lived that I'd published earlier that year. I was proud of that piece; I considered it my third most important bit of work, after exposing Cornelius Fudge's appalling treatment of the Gringotts goblins and founding the Help Out Wherewolves League (H.O.W.L. Ha ha! Get it?)

Dumbelldoor and I talked for a long time, and he ended up by inviting me to a top-secret meeting at a tightly guarded house in Grimmauld Place. The meeting took place in what had once been a large, old-fashioned kitchen, but was now converted into something that looked like a War Room, plastered in maps of Britian and of most of the magical settlements in the country. I looked around the room in amasement! I pride myself on knowing things long before anybody else in the wizarding world will believe them, but I hadn't known about the Order of the Pheonix.

Hukt on Pheonix wurkt fur mee! - J. M. E.

Huh? - Everybody else.

Never mind, sometimes Muggle humour doesn't translate very well. - J. M. E.

I had an ilustrious crowd of people to hand buiseness cards to that afternoon: I recognised several Aurors, one or two highly-placed officials at the Ministry of Magic, and a large number of Hogwarts professors who I recognised from Luna's descriptions. Two of them caught my eye immediately. A professor in a spangled shawl and large glasses sat at Dumbelldoor's side. She was a fine figure of a woman, and she positively glittered! I handed her my card and introduced myself.

'My name is Sybill,' she said. 'I read your paper faithfully, and I have always thought its editor must be a man with deep knowledge about spiritual matters. I myself am gifted with the Sight.'

Her conversation was charming, her voice pleasingly misty. I couldn't take my eyes off of her

[Arcanum Charmed this bit against Jack Evans as well. Sorry, Jack and Larry. Editor's privilege.

Six weeks later: Charm lifted. Please forgive me, Jack. R. J. L.]

... until I noticed a man who had to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor my daughter had mentioned to me a few years earlier. He was a youngish man, with light brown hair flecked with grey, and he had a pinched, drawn look about his face that I knew well. I'd had many of them in my office over the years, although you didn't often see that look nowadays.

'I'm very interested in your cause,' I explained after I introduced myself and handed him a buiseness card. 'I even wrote a book about it once.'

'My cause?'

'Wherewolf rights, of course. My book was called Hairy Snout, Human Heart.'

'Ah.' He had develloped a slight twitch to his mouth, a symtom I hadn't noticed in any of the others. 'I thought that was supposed to be a first-person account.'

'Well, it was meant to be, but I couldn't find a real wherewolf willing to come forward, so I reckoned I'd just write the thing myself and try my best to make it sound authentic. I like to think I made a good job of it. Don't you think so?'

'I apreciate your efforts,' he said. 'Very much. I'm sure many other people do too.'

'Would you be interested in doing an exclusive write-up for The Quibbler? We can't pay, but I'd let you take credit for the book if you like.'

'I'll think about it.'

I congratulated him on being so courajous and long-suffering. It is a terrible thing to be a wherewolf.

[Editor's note, Arcanum Charmed against everyone except Tonks and Reg: Indeed it is. I have little personal experience with wherewolves, but I understand they spend most of their time wandering around the Forbidden Forest in circles, trying to find their way out. Fortunately they hardly ever bite anybody as they suffer from a chronic inability to locate their prey.

Werewolves are quite different. They don't like being patronised. - R. J. L.]

Dumbelldoor called the meeting to order. 'I am sure you have all heard the troubling news of the prison break this morning. There are dark times ahead, which we must all band together to survive. It gives me great pleasure, however, to remind all of you that the points of light in this darkness are constantly growing in number. Our society is about to expand once more.

'It is time,' he continued, 'that we formally recognised three people who have made great contributions to the Order in recent months, and will, I hope, be willing to join our number on a more official basis. First, Larry Lovegood, editor of The Quibbler, the alternative paper that broke a story more conventional journalists were afraid to touch. Second, Jack Evans, a soliciter who has spent much of the summer working to help us retain this house as our headquarters. Finally, Regulus Black, the new owner of this house, who has generously continued to make this space available to us.'

Everyone clapped! Wasn't it nice of him to mention me first?

He nodded to the glittering woman on his right. 'I would also like to introduce a guest of ours, Professor Sybill Trelawney, Divination teacher at Hogwarts. As many of you know, Professor Trelawney has made two prophecies which have had considerable bearing on recent events, and we have been reliably informed that Lord Voldemort may attempt to capture her before she makes a third. Her safety is our highest priority at the moment.

'Although many of you are already working on urgent tasks for the Order, we will need several volunteers for a special task force to help keep Professor Trelawney safe and monitor the movements of those who may be attempting to kidnap her, with the hope of returning them to custody. First of all, it will be necessary to have a contact at Auror headquarters.'

A young, striking redhead at the far end of the table raised her hand.

'Thank you, Miss Tonks, I think you will be an excellent choice. We will also need several bodyguards for Professor Trelawney, people who have no pressing responsibilities elsewhere and are free to spend at least one week at a time at Hogwarts. The school term begins in a matter of hours, so one of you will have to be able to leave immediately.'

I volunteered eagerly! The Quibbler practically runs itself.

'Thank you, Larry. You too, Regulus,' he added, nodding to the tall, dark man at the end of the table. My daughter's former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor also raised his hand. 'And you - yes, it will be good to have someone with a bit of experience and, shall we say, a certain level of expertise on the layout of the castle.' Professor Dumbeldoor's eyes twinkled as he turned to a young, blond man in Muggle clothing. 'How about you, Mr Evans - shall we make this a joint effort from all three of our new members?'

The man looked startled. 'But I can't - I mean, I'm, well ...'

'I'm well aware that you're not suited for guard duty. I have another task in mind for you.'

Evans still looked puzzled, but he nodded. 'Whatever it is, I'd be delighted.'

'Then, if the three of you will follow me, you will be formally initiated into the Order.'

V: By Candlelight

I had met Professor Dumbledore only once before, when he visited my wife and me to tell us Mark was eligible for Hogwarts - and, as I suspect now, to determine whether I was eligible for something else. On that occasion, he struck me as a genial, chatty, and entirely harmless old man. It was not until the meeting that I grasped that I was in the presence of one of the most powerful wizards in history, and I became aware of this only gradually, not so much because of his own demeanour but because of the way everyone deferred to him.

At the end of the meeting, he took the three of us aside - Reg, Larry Lovegood, and me. He led us down a dark corridor that began in the back of the kitchen and handed us each a slim white candle. 'Traditionally, new initiates carve their initials and the date in the base of the candle.'

Reg and Larry did this by tapping the candles with their wands. I looked at mine in some puzzlement, and finally took a ballpoint pen out of my pocket and used it as a makeshift chisel.

'What's that?' asked Reg with interest.

'Muggle quill,' I explained. Reg was almost as curious about Muggle life as my old friend Arthur Weasley, but he had led an even more sheltered life than Arthur and often required translations. The police, for instance, were always 'Muggle Aurors,' to him, and once, after I left a newspaper at his house, he remarked that Saddam Hussein sounded like a very Dark wizard who was probably using Unforgivable Curses on his own people.

'You mean you have a tool for writing and carving things in candles? Weird.' Reg looked impressed.

'Well, it's not for carving things in candles exactly, but - Never mind. Would you like to keep it? I've got lots of others.'

Reg pocketed his new possession, looking very proud of it.

Dumbledore opened the door at the end of the corridor and we entered a small, dark chamber, heavy and sweet with the scent of melting wax. A long table nearly filled the room. A hundred or so candles stood upon it, more than half of them lit, others with the wick ends still glowing as though they'd just been blown out.

'Yours will light as soon as you take the membership oath,' he said, giving us each a piece of parchment with some words written on it.

I, John Michael Evans, an initiate of the Order of the Phoenix, swear to serve the Order faithfully, never to betray its secrets or name my fellow members, and to assist to the best of my capabilities in the struggle against Lord Voldemort.

It was a deceptively simple oath; not until I heard Larry stumbling over the last word did I understand that it contained a subtle test. I had a great deal left to learn.

The candle in my hand burst into flame as I finished speaking.

'Would you like to put yours here, Jack?' Dumbledore asked softly. He motioned toward a small cluster of candles at the far end of the table, only one of which still burned with a thin, bright flame. 'Beside this one, I think. It is your sister's.' He indicated one of the burnt-out candles.

I picked it up and saw that it did indeed bear the initials L. E. and a date some four years before her death. I had always remembered her as my big sister, but it was brought home to me now that she had been very, very young, closer to Mark's age than mine, when she lit this candle.

The wick of Lily's candle glowed a little brighter as I placed mine beside it.

'Yours too, Regulus,' He indicated another burnt-out candle from the same little group. 'This is your brother's.'

'Are you sure he would..." said Reg. "I mean, we didn't always get along...'

'I think,' said Dumbledore slowly, 'that if he had known the man you would become, he would have been proud to have you by his side.'

'How do you know whose they are without looking at the initials?' I asked.

'Old men remember odd things. Besides, that group of candles has - certain identifying marks, if you know what to look for.'

On careful examination, I saw what he was talking about. The candle he had shown to Reg had a small scorch mark, as if it had been forcibly snuffed out and then relit at some later date. One of the other ones near it was the only one on the table that seemed to have been extinguished completely.

'Shouldn't little Nymphadora be with the rest of the family?' Reg asked.

Dumbledore considered this for a moment. 'Yes, she should. She joined with a boyfriend who didn't last - that is, he's still a member of the Order in good standing, but he didn't last as a boyfriend. I don't think she'll mind if I move hers.' He picked up a candle from the other end of the table and placed it beside the one Reg had just lit.

I considered the candle that had been burning alone a moment ago, and was now surrounded by three of its fellows. Suddenly ours looked like intruders. 'Er ... are you sure the person who lit that one won't mind having company?'

Dumbledore's reply seemed absolutely cryptic. 'Have you ever studied natural history, Jack?'

'Natural ... history? No. I know a fair bit about inheritance law and model-building, but that's about it.'

'Neither have I. But Professor Hagrid, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, informs me that wolves are pack animals. Not in the sense of carrying a pack, which probably would not be a good idea at all, but of being happiest when they can run with one.' I stared at him, bewildered. 'Yes, I believe we are doing the right thing. If I am wrong - and I have sometimes been gravely wrong about matters like this in the past - I take full responsibility upon myself.'

I could make neither head nor tail of this, and I wondered for a moment if he were going senile, but there was a spark behind his spectacles that suggested exceptional intelligence and alertness. Besides, Reg appeared to find this speech perfectly sensible. 'I think you're right,' he said, with unaccustomed soberness, as he left the room.

'Where should I put mine?' Larry asked, a little too loudly. I jumped involuntarily.

'Do you have any family members in the Order?' Dumbledore asked.

'Nope - it's just me and little Luna,' he said. It wasn't until then that I realised he was the father of the dreamy-looking girl I'd met at Harry's birthday party. They didn't look much alike.

'Then you may place it anywhere on the table.' He chose the most conspicuous spot, closest to the door.

As Larry followed Reg out of the room, Dumbledore motioned for me to stay. 'Do you understand why we need your help?' he asked.

'I don't understand anything at all,' I said. 'Why am I here? What am I supposed to do?'

'Nothing, yet. Just keep your eyes open. But if anything goes wrong and the Death Eaters do kidnap Sybill Trelawney, we have reason to believe they may try to conceal her somewhere in the Muggle world. They cannot kill her - she is only valuable to them if she can make another prophecy - and I don't think they will risk hiding her in any location known to us. That is where you come in. We need somebody who knows both cultures intimately, in a way that few of our people do. Even Muggle-born wizards have been immersed in our world since the age of eleven. I am beginning to think that is the great weakness in our system of education. You, on the other hand, grew up hearing your sister's stories, and as an adult you've made an extensive study of our world - while still knowing your way around your own. If any Muggle can think like a wizard, you can. If Professor Trelawney vanishes, we think you have a better chance of finding her than anybody else would.'

I shook my head in amazement. I was certain now that I didn't know how to think like a wizard at all.

'Do you have any questions?' Dumbledore asked.

'I have three,' I said. 'Am I the first Muggle to join the Order?'

'Yes. But you almost certainly won't be the last. I believe we will need mutual openness and cooperation if any of us are to survive the times that lie ahead.'

'What about my wife? How much can I tell her?'

'That is up to you. But you must bear in mind that the more she knows of your activities, the more likely it is that this knowledge may put her in danger. And you must not say anything to anyone else, other friends or family members.'

'I have no other family members.' Petunia and her family didn't count; I hardly knew them. That brought me to my last question. Strictly speaking, it had nothing to do with my mission, but it had haunted me for half my life and I wanted an answer. 'Today I learned why Voldemort murdered my sister. But why did he kill my parents?'

'I cannot answer that, Jack.'

'Can't, or won't?' I demanded.

'I cannot.' Dumbledore didn't specify whether this was because he didn't know or because he couldn't tell me. He waved his hand in a gesture that, though not unkindly, was clearly a dismissal, and I obeyed without hesitation. It was like being granted an audience with the Queen or the Pope.

I walked out of the candlelit room feeling disoriented and troubled. As Dumbledore had said, I'd known about the magical world since I was a child, younger than Mark - but the last few hours had made me realise that in some ways I knew nothing of it. Suddenly I wasn't sure how much I wanted to tell Harriet. I remembered the look on her face as we'd said goodbye to Mark that morning: confident, cheerful, ever so slightly envious of our own son. She'd told him to write every day. Not because she was anxious or afraid, except in the ordinary way that parents are always anxious about their child's first time away from home, but because she couldn't wait to hear the stories he would have to tell. And I had felt the same way, until right now.

It may sound strange that I hadn't connected the wizard world - Lily's world, and now Mark's - with danger before, but you must understand that it was a way of life I took for granted from the ages of ten through sixteen, and that my involvement with it came to an abrupt end when my sister and parents were killed. I had never associated their deaths with magic, but rather with the moment when magic went out of my life.