The Purloined Prophetess

XI: A Visit to The Quibbler

[This section has been Arcanum Charmed against everybody except Regulus Black - N. T.

Much later: Charm lifted.]

Why me, little cousin? Isn't Moony supposed to be the editor? - R. B.

[After five minutes with no response.] All right, Nymphadora, be that way. - R. B.

My errand took me to a large, rundown commercial building that housed a number of dodgy-looking businesses: Speedy Sal's Secondhand Brooms and Flying Insurance, the Happy Hippogriff Dead Rat Emporium, the headquarters of the Kwikspell Correspondence Course ... and the Quibbler office, which consisted of a single room at the end of a short, dimly lit hallway, just past the toilets.

The office had only one window, which looked out on a garbage-strewn alley behind the building. The place smelled of a mixture of ink, stale tobacco, and Larry Lovegood's feet. When I came in, he was clipping his toenails with one hand and reading Unfogging the Future with the other. This was the closest thing to actual work that seemed to be going on; a couple of reporters were drinking coffee and chatting about their holidays in Macedonia, and the cartoonist had an empty firewhiskey bottle on his desk and appeared to have passed out. The walls of the office were plastered with pieces of parchment covered in upside-down runes. On Larry's desk, there was a photo of a spacey-looking teenaged girl standing next to an enormous white animal with a spiked tail and several humps on its back.

'My daughter Luna and her Crumple-Horned Snorkack,' Larry explained. 'Hello, Miss Tonks, I thought you might be coming in this morning. Would you be interested in making a donation to H.O.W.L.?'

I gave him five Galleons, more to get him in a good mood than because I had any faith in his capabilities as an activist. 'Larry, I need to talk to you in private.'

'Why don't you all take lunch or something,' he said, waving his hand in the general direction of the office staff. Although it was only ten o'clock in the morning, they all perked up, including the inert cartoonist, and rushed out in a body to the pub across the alley.

'Excuse me, but would you mind not having your feet on the desk while we're talking? It's sort of disgusting.' I bit my tongue, remembering too late about the good mood part.

'Sorry,' he said, smiling affably. He didn't appear to be offended.

At the end of our conversation, he unlocked one of his desk drawers and pulled out a three-year-old copy of the Andorran Journal of Dark Creatures. 'You want proof, don't you? You can read this if you don't believe me, and you might also want to go here.' On the inside cover of the journal, he wrote down the address of an apothecary's shop in Knockturn Alley.

Er, Nymphadora, did you just Arcanum Charm your whole conversation against everybody? I thought we agreed we wouldn't do that. - R. B.

No, I didn't Arcanum Charm anything - I left it out entirely. He made a suggestion that I don't like to repeat without rock-solid proof, especially since it did come from Larry, so there's a good chance he doesn't have a clue what he's talking about. But if he is right, it's a matter of grave importance and I wanted to record the fact that we had the conversation. And if anything happens to me while I'm on guard duty, I want you to go to Larry and ask him about it. - N. T.

All right. But I wish you'd stop being so mysterious! - R. B.

Trust me, Reg, I can't. - N. T.

As I turned to go, a strange man burst into the office, clutching a yellowing copy of The Quibbler. He was gaunt and dark-haired, with slightly stooped shoulders and a sour, thin-lipped mouth. He seemed very angry. 'Where is Lovegood? I need to speak to him about this outrage!'

This sort of thing must have been a common occurrence at the Quibbler, because Larry didn't seem fazed at all. 'Larry Lovegood is my name, crusadin' with the facts is my game. My paper publishes all the news -'

'You call it news?' said the stranger. 'Slander and libel is more like it. Linking my name with a convicted murderer -' He looked around and seemed to notice me for the first time. 'Who are YOU? Are you this Doris Purkiss hussy?'

'Er, no. My name is Tonks.'

'Then this doesn't have anything to do with you, so get out of here! I have some private business to discuss with Mr Lovegood.'

I looked him in the eye. 'I don't know who you are, but I'm pretty sure this is Mr Lovegood's office, not yours. I'll thank you not to order me around.'

'I'm very sorry, Miss Tonks,' said Larry, 'but I think you'd better leave me alone with Mr - er ...'

'Boardman. Stubby Boardman.'

XII: Jack Gets a New Client

Jack! Jack! Are you there? I need council! - L. L.

Council? - J. M. E.

Legal advise! I need your help NOW! The Quibbler is being sued for libel!!! And the story's over a year old, and with everything that's happened I guess it can't possibly have been true, but I thought it was when I printed it, and I was only quoting Mrs Purkiss and the whole point of the story was that Sirius Black WASN'T a mass murderer at all, so shouldn't it be all right? - L. L.

Larry? Take a deep breath and tell me the whole story from the beginning. - J. M. E.

All the way from the beginning? OK. - L. L.

Larry Lovegood is my name, crusadin' with the facts is my -

You can skip that part. We know. - J. M. E.

All right, then I guess the beginning was a little over a year ago, when I met a woman named Doris Purkiss at a bargain sale I was holding in Little Norton to benifit H.O.W.L. - the Help Out Wherewolves League, that is, one of my favourite charities. She had an intresting story to tell about Sirius Black, or rather Stubby Boardman - I suppose they can't be the same person any more - at least not if this person is the real Stubby Boardman, since he's obviously alive. Wait, and he seemed to think Tonks was Mrs Purkiss a minute ago - so he can't really have met her - so I guess she WAS lying. If the man in my office is Stubby Boardman, of course. That isn't good, is it?

Larry, this makes NO sense. - J. M. E.

Excuse me for interrupting, Jack - are you still at Grimmauld Place? Where in the house are you? - N. T.

Downstairs hall, why? - J. M. E.

Great. Look directly behind you, and you'll see a framed article from The Quibbler hanging on the wall. Read that first. It will make things much clearer. - N. T.

(Read the article, thanks, Tonks.) Larry, are you still there? If I understand the situation correctly, your paper published an article last year alleging that Stubby Boardman and Sirius Black were one and the same; Doris Purkiss was your principle source for this article; and a man claiming to be Stubby Boardman is in your office right now threatening to sue for libel because you accused him of being the same person as a mass murderer. Is all this correct? - J. M. E.

Yes. - L. L.

And what have you said to him? - J. M. E.

He didn't give me a chance to say anything! He came barrelling into the office and grabbed me by the shoulder and pinned me against the wall, and so I reached for my wand and hit him with a Stinging Hex, which made him let go of me, and then I ran out of the office and locked him in. And then I got my Instant Message Book out of the lavetory so I could get in touch with you. I generally keep it in there because that's where I do my best writing -

Wait, wait. Are you saying you GOT IN A FIGHT WITH THE MAN WHO'S SUING YOU AND LOCKED HIM UP? - J. M. E.

And you LEFT A COPY OF OUR RECORDS LYING AROUND IN THE LOO OUTSIDE THE QUIBBLER OFFICE?!? - N. T.

Wow, Larry, I've got to hand it to you. You've made stupidity into an art form. - R. B.

My dears, cease to abuse him, for all is well. The Inner Eye informs me that dear Larry has done no harm, and indeed he may have saved us all, for I perceive that Mr Boardman is destined to bring us a Message in the Hour of our Deepest Need. - S. P. T.

Well, you'd better let him out of the office so he can deliver it, then! - N. T.

I do not mean that he bears such a Message at the present moment, only that this will come to pass in the fullness of time. - S. P. T.

Larry, you need to let Mr Boardman out of your office at once. Don't discuss the article, and even if he gets aggressive, don't let him goad you into saying or doing anything. Tell him you're not going to make any statements until your solicitor is present. All right? - J. M. E.

And don't EVER leave your book lying around again! I've seen the set-up at the Quibbler - the toilets are out in the hall and they're shared with other offices! Any of the Death Eaters could have walked in and read our notes ten times over! - N. T.

Would everybody please calm down? The first thing I did when I got these books was Arcanum Charm them against Lord Voldemort and all known Death Eaters. But I can't promise there aren't a few new recruits out there, or people we don't know about, so Larry, please don't let your book out of your sight again. - R. J. L.

Hi, Moony! Good to see you're back in the world of the living! - R. B.

Did you Arcanum Charm them against Stubby Boardman too? - L. L.

No, I did not. Stubby Boardman is not a Death Eater. - R. J. L.

I just asked because maybe part of the reason he was so angry is that he found out Reg has been impersonading him in Scotland. - L. L.

Wait 'til he finds out I did more for his career in one night than he has for the last sixteen years! - R. B.

Have you let him out of your office yet? - J. M. E.

I unlocked the office and said I wasn't going to make any statements except in the presents of my soliciter, just like Jack told me to. Mr Boardman seemed much calmer, almost like he was a different person, so you see getting locked up didn't do him any harm at all! Maybe it gave him some time to cool off. Anyhow, he gave me his card and said he'd be in touch. He went out quietly.

My whole staff was still at the pub, so I had the office to myself at last. I sat down to send another owl to Sybill. Writing to her is always a great comfort. She has such a deep spiritual understanding of people's feelings.

XIII: Guarding Sybill (Week Three)

When one is gifted with the Inner Eye, one soon becomes accustomed to peculiar sights. Nevertheless, it is Unsettling to behold oneself entering one's own tower, as if one had become disconnected from one's own body and was watching from Outside the Corporeal Realm. Such was the sight that met my eyes as I looked up from the last of the sherry that dear Mr Lupin had procured for me. I had not fully appreciated Mr Lupin until this last week. Despite his somewhat unprepossessing appearance, he was an infinitely more satisfactory bodyguard than Mr Black. I am not fond of modern music.

I was, as I said, deeply Unsettled at this apparition. In short, I screamed.

'No worries, Sybill,' said a voice that was plainly not my own, but that of Miss Tonks. 'It's only me.' She winked, and assumed her natural form - if one can call pink hair natural.

'You startled me, my dear,' I said. 'It is not that I did not foresee your coming, but the external shape you assumed was something of a shock. The Inner Eye perceives only essences.'

'Sorry,' she said in a tone that I considered insufficiently repentant. 'I should've warned you, but we all agreed this was the best way for me to keep a low profile. I promise I'll only do it when I leave the tower if it bothers you.'

'See that you do,' I replied, speaking more sternly than I am accustomed. Nymphadora Tonks was always an exceptionally trying young lady, forever breaking teacups in Divination class, and the years since she had left Hogwarts had changed her very little.

I informed her that I hardly ever descend from my tower, but she insisted on taking most of her meals in the Great Hall and going for long walks in the evening. 'No sense in my staying shut up in this tower while somebody's trying to kidnap you,' she said. 'If the Death Eaters are planning to make a move, I'd rather give them the opportunity and let them come after me instead of you.' It is not that I found her absence objectionable in itself, but she had an annoying habit of asking Severus Snape to cover for her. He has not the Inner Eye, and is decidedly unsympathetic to the delicate sensibilities of those who do.

I did not care to make either Miss Tonks or Professor Snape aware of the substance of my correspondence with Larry Lovegood, but his owls were the one thing that made the third week of my peril bearable. He wrote at least once a day, and although his spelling left something to be desired, the sincerity of his concern and tenderness was breathtaking. I had no wish to expose our letters or my poetry to the Prying Eyes of those who would not understand their hidden depths, so I spent many hours locked up in my Inner Sanctum, which I find a most congenial place for writing.

Her Inner Sanctum? - J. M. E.

That's what she calls the loo. - N. T.

So she and Larry really are a match made in heaven! Who knew? - J. M. E.

One evening when Professor Snape took over guard duty, I perceived that he was in a particularly foul mood.

'I sense that you are troubled in your mind, my dear,' I said. 'Would it help if I crystal gazed for you? Many people find it soothing.'

'I do not require soothing.' He almost spat out the last word. 'As it happens, I have a very good reason to be agitated. I don't suppose your crystal ball can tell me who has been tampering with my Potions kit?'

'Your Potions kit?' I must confess that I had expected troubles of a deeper and more spiritual nature. Severus Snape had always impressed me as a profoundly Tormented Soul.

'Yes, Madame Trelawney, my Potions kit. Those of us who teach real subjects require the proper equipment.'

'Ah...' I gazed at the swirling mist in the crystal ball. 'Yes ... yes ... I see the shadow of a sinister man entering the castle by stealth ... I perceive that a theft has indeed taken place.'

'You are wrong. Nothing at all has been taken.'

'Then how do you know someone has been tampering with the kit?'

'Because it looks as though some of the bottles have been replaced in an extremely clumsy manner. Several have their labels facing in the wrong direction, and one was put back in the wrong place altogether. You may find this difficult to understand, Madame Trelawney,' he said, casting a critical eye around the Divination classroom, 'but I am a man of order and method. The slightest imprecision in my work can make the difference between life and death. It is my job and my nature to notice these things.'

At this point, my body double and bete noir entered the room and tripped over a footstool with a crash which absolutely shattered my concentration and made further crystal-gazing impossible. 'Somebody just tried to kidnap me,' she announced cheerfully. 'Didn't have any trouble fighting him off, of course. I don't think he expected to have an agile twenty-three-year-old Auror on his hands. Wish I'd got a good look at his face. All I could tell was that he was thin and dark-haired.'

'That describes at least half of the Death Eaters we know,' said Snape. 'Your little charade has put you at considerable risk without furthering our knowledge in the slightest. You take after your cousins, Miss Tonks.'

She grinned. 'I think I'll take that as a compliment.'

'It is not. I seem to be the only one in the Order with any subtlety or patience ... the only one who knows how to work in secret ... and to bide my time ...' He went out.

She stared after him, and a strange, distant look came over her face. Sensing that she, too, had troubles of her own, I began at last to warm to her. 'Have some tea, my dear girl. I shall read the tea leaves for you, if you wish, but the Inner Eye perceives a great part of your problem already.'

'Does it?' she said absently.

'It sees all, my dear.' (Besides, with young ladies of that age, the problems are always the same.) 'I sense that a man has been preying on your mind. He is not to be trusted.'

'Which one?' she asked.

I smiled enigmatically. Experience has taught me never to give specific advice to the young about their love-troubles. Even when they are warned by one in possession of the Sight, they always pick the wrong one.

Pick me, pick me! I'm trustworthy and you already know the Black genes are good! What d'you say we let the war take care of itself for a bit, run away to Vegas, and get hitched? I bet my Stubby Boardman act would be a huge hit on the Strip! - R. B.

Don't be silly, Reg. So many of us have married our cousins already that it's a wonder we don't all have three heads. - N. T.

Could you have three heads if you wanted to? - R. B.

No. No more than you could be serious for a minute. - N. T.

All right, I'm being serious now. Pick Moony. Especially if the other bloke is Snape. - R. B.

[Five minutes later.] Nymphadora? Are you still there? You're not angry, are you? - R. B.

[Two minutes after that.] See, nobody ever likes it when I try to be serious. - R. B.