The Purloined Prophetess

XXXVI: Closing the Net

Every now and again, even a Muggle says something clever. The whole Order of the Phoenix stared at me for several seconds after I asked the question.

'Unfortunately, yes,' said Remus grimly. He outlined Pettigrew's career in a few words and added, with a slightly twisted smile, 'And, of course, he wouldn't have needed a key to get in and out of the Happy Hippogriff Dead Rat Emporium - he probably played dead and stowed away with the delivery man. He has a talent for that sort of thing.'

Tonks nodded. 'Yes, I think you've just identified Larry's contact. But that doesn't help if we don't know where to find him.'

'I can see one obvious lead,' I said. 'Didn't anybody think to follow up on what he was doing in Spirit's End or whether he's been back?' I asked.

Obviously I was Not Thinking Like A Wizard, as usual. They all looked at me as though I'd grown a second head - assuming second heads aren't normal in their world.

'I think we can take it for granted that he was after me,' said Remus, who was clearly trying not to make me feel like my question was idiotic, but didn't quite pull it off.

'But - unless there's more to the story than you've told me, that's sort of a backwards assumption, isn't it? I mean, I can see how you would have an excellent motive for going after Pettigrew - forgive me, not that I'm saying you would - but he hasn't got any particular reason to have it in for you. How do you know he wasn't spying on someone or something else?'

'What else is there to spy on in the neighbourhood?' asked Tonks.

'I don't know,' I admitted, 'but there are other wizards in the area, aren't there? You said yourself that your parents live there, and the restaurant owner obviously has connections...'

'I wish my parents would move!' she said suddenly. 'I offered them half my inheritance, so I know they can afford it - but my dad's a right stubborn old ... Well, anyway, he says he was born in Spirit's End and he'll die there. And don't even get me started on my mum...'

'She's a Black, little cousin,' said Reg gently. 'Running scared isn't her style. As for the rest of us - I think we should go for a curry.'

* * *

Vikram Patil's restaurant was more crowded than it had been on my previous visit. We spent a couple of hours waiting for the other diners to clear out so we could speak to the owner without risk of being overheard. We were all exhausted, tense, and starving, so that was probably just as well. The others analysed the case all through the meal (except Reg, who was too busy ogling the proprietor's daughter). I didn't feel like talking much. After waiting so many years for an answer about what had happened to my family, I don't know why receiving a non-answer left me so shaken and confused, but it did. Harriet kept saying comforting things in whispers, but of course the only person who knew exactly what I was going through was Remus, who quietly telegraphed sympathy from across the table. Sensible man. Why hadn't I known when to stop asking questions?

The couple at the table behind us left the restaurant at last. Vikram approached our table. 'Would you like some rice pudding or mango ice cream?'

I shook my head, and so did most of the others. I'd already eaten so much I was about to burst.

'No, but we'd like another round of Kingfishers and some information,' said Tonks. 'Do you have a minute to chat?'

'Yes, of course,' said the restauranteur, sounding courteous but bewildered. His eyes rested on Larry, who had closed the Quibbler office early and joined us. 'Where is your girl friend tonight - the one with all the beads?'

'That's what we came to find out,' said Larry. 'But how do you know who I am?'

'Weren't you in here with her about a month ago? You came by Floo powder just at closing time. We were no longer serving dinner, but I sold you some food to take away.'

Larry looked utterly baffled.

'He had a little accident with a Memory Charm just after you saw him,' said Reg quickly. 'We've been trying to figure out how it happened, actually, and we were hoping you might be able to help. Do you know where he and his girlfriend went after that?'

'I am sorry, no,' said Vikram. 'My daughter and I were busy cleaning the kitchen. I suppose they went out in the street somewhere.'

I looked out the window. It was a quiet evening in Spirit's End: a handful of drunks staggered out of the off license with bottles in brown paper bags; a pane of glass smashed somewhere down the block; and across the street, a depressed-looking customer drifted out of Madame Monica's Mystical Tarot Reading.

A depressed-looking customer drifted out of Madame Monica's Mystical Tarot Reading!

A few little things came together in my head ... a sudden rash of attempted suicides in the Spirit's End tube station ... and a detective story I had read once ... 'Remus, this is going to sound completely mad - but have you got your copy of Poe?'

'I think so.' He fished his briefcase out from under the table, rummaged inside it for a moment, and came up with a battered book. 'Here it is. Why?'

'There's a story called "The Purloined Letter" in there. It's about a blackmailer who steals a letter he has to keep intact and within his own reach at all times, but hidden from the people who are searching for it. Just like Sybill Trelawney's kidnappers have to keep her close at hand, because they never know when she'll make another prophecy.' I wondered if this analogy was too far-fetched, but he was listening with interest. 'So in this story by Poe, the thief hid the letter in plain sight - in a place so obvious everyone looked right past it.'

He stared at me for a moment, and then his eyes drifted to the gritty street outside. 'I read the story you're talking about this afternoon. The thing that tipped the detective off and made him look twice was an envelope that was just a little too dirty and worn out and insignificant-looking, as if somebody were trying to emphasize its unimportance...'

I nodded. 'A bit like this neighbourhood. And in particular, like a certain fortune-telling business with a shady reputation.'

I saw the light begin to dawn on some of the others' faces, although Larry still appeared confused. 'Right, then,' Tonks said briskly. 'The first thing we need to do is scout the place out and confirm whether you're right, and then - if it's at all possible - we'd better get Sybill out safely before we try to make any arrests or do battle with whoever's guarding her, because I don't trust her not to lose her head.'

'That's a pretty tall order, little cousin,' Reg commented.

'I think we can pull it off,' said Remus. A strange light came into his eyes and intensified as he flipped through the pages of Poe, and I realised I was looking at a master plotter at work. 'We can certainly manage a facsimile,' he muttered. 'The trouble would be getting her in and out of the place without attracting notice...'

'We could use a diversion, like they did in the story,' I said. I started reading over his shoulder to check the details. 'How are you at madness?' I asked Reg.

'Madness is what I do best,' he said confidently.

'Now, we just need a scout to investigate the place and report back to us,' said Remus. 'Preferably someone who can pass as an ordinary Muggle customer, since they won't expect trouble from that quarter.'

'I'll do it!' Larry offered. 'I do undercover reporting all the time for the Quibbler. But I think it would be better if I posed as one of those Muggle law enforcement chappies checking to see whether they had the proper permits. Who knows, I might even end up with enough material for an exposé of illegal fortune telling businesses. Do you think I should call myself "Officer Larry" or "Please-man Larry"?' He transfigured his fork into something resembling a sheriff's badge from an old Western and pinned it squarely over his stomach.

The rest of us eyed him dubiously. 'No,' said Tonks. 'We'll need you to look after Sybill as soon as we spring her, but for this part, we have to use someone we're sure they can't identify by sight. Jack would do, except Pettigrew might have been in the dead rat shop this morning and got a good look at him.'

After a moment of silence, I realised they were all looking at my wife. 'Oh, no,' I said.

'Oh, yes,' said Harriet cheerfully, as if we were planning a day at the park instead of a raid on the Death Eaters. 'Sorry, hon, I'll be careful, but it's the only way.'

XXXVII: Harriet Investigates

Jack lent me his Instant Message Book in case I needed an emergency means of communication, although we planned to use Muggle methods to signal each other.

I kept my eyes wide open as I crossed the street and knocked on the door of Madame Monica's, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A misty voice called, 'Come in, my dear,' and I entered a room filled with a dim red light and the scent of incense. A middle-aged woman draped in scarves and bangles sat behind a table spread with Tarot cards. A short, plump, balding man with some sort of prosthetic arm perched on a stool in the corner of the room, chewing anxiously on the end of a quill. He was surrounded by great heaps of parchment and looked more like an overworked clerk than a villain.

'Good evening,' I said to the woman.

'Good evening, my dear, how pleasant to see you in the physical world at last. The Inner Eye perceives you are troubled about Things Hidden - is it not so? - but the cards will bring all to light,' she said. 'I shall read them for you...'

'Five quid,' interrupted the man.

She turned on him and said in less misty tones, 'My dear Peter, true Seers do not concern themselves with mere Pecuniary Matters. My Gift is at the disposal of all who seek help, regardless of whether they may be encumbered with Filthy Lucre, or in the Depths of Penury.'

'I know, I know,' he said wearily, 'but the boss will have my head if you keep giving readings for free. He'll be out of business if the place doesn't turn a profit.'

Her eyes widened. 'But ... surely your boss doesn't care about turning a profit?'

He shot her what he probably meant to be a murderous look, although Sybill seemed blithely unperturbed. I thought it better to put an end to the conversation before she said anything that would tip off any normal customer that the place wasn't what it seemed, so I settled the dispute by handing Peter a five-pound note.

The woman dealt out three cards face down, shut her eyes for a moment, and turned the first one over. The man in the corner took a swig of sherry from the open bottle on the table and began to scribble furiously as she spoke.

'The first card, my dear, is the King of Swords, a very powerful card indeed. I sense a man of volatile temperament in your life ... yes, and violence that may turn deadly. You must beware of him, and yet I fear you shall not be able to escape him, for he is in complete command. Yes, I regret to say that you will most likely become his victim ... unless, of course, the second or third card reveals a secret that shall destroy you first.

'The second card is the Seven of Cups. I sense temptation, my dear, and I am sorry to say you will succumb to it. I warn you not to do the thing you are thinking of doing ... and yet I fear it is too late, for you have already made a fatal decision. If you are to have any hope of saving yourself, you must avoid the element of water at all costs ... and earth, air, and fire, just to be on the safe side.'

She turned over the third card. 'The Page of Cups, reversed, a card that represents Dark Essences, sad reflection, and the terrible consequences of emotional excess. Alas, my dear, you will be seduced into doing evil ... distracted from your true purpose ... and you will have a most unpleasant encounter with a young man in tights who carries a fish in a cup -'

My mobile phone rang. 'Excuse me for a minute,' I said. 'Hello?'

'My dear,' said the woman reprovingly, 'one does not disturb the Resonances of the Future with the Concerns of the Moment.'

'Shall we go ahead?' asked Jack.

'Yes.'

'How many of them can you see? I'll count slowly. One ...'

'Yes.'

'Really? Well, that makes things easier. Tonks says we can't rule out invisibility cloaks or Disillusionment charms, though, so we'll have to be careful. How many exits? One ... Two ...'

'Yes.'

'Front and back?'

'That's right.'

'What colour are her robes? Black ... white ... red ... orange ... yellow ... green ... blue ...'

'Yes.'

In the background I heard a female voice saying 'Tell her to be more specific!' and Jack replying, 'What do you mean, more specific?' Tonks picked up the phone, sounding slightly exasperated. 'Periwinkle ... turquoise ... indigo ... robin's egg ... peacock ... cobalt ... teal ...'

'Yes, that last one, I think.'

'Anything unusual we should know about?'

'I don't think so.'

Jack picked up the phone again. 'See you in a minute, dear. And take care. Love you.'

I turned the telephone off and settled in for the rest of the reading, which took a very ominous turn indeed and left me in no doubt that True Seers do not take kindly to interruptions.

XXXVIII: Springing Sybill

After Harriet's telephone call, I stopped by my parents' flat, which is just around the corner. [Arcanum Charmed against Arthur Weasley.] My dad and a couple of his mates were sitting in the middle of a large pile of lager cans, watching a Puddlemere United match on the Muggle television he bought at a secondhand shop and charmed to pick up Quidditch.

'Wotcher, guys. Is Mum around? Oh, hi, Mum. Can't stay but a minute - I just ran up to see if you had any teal robes I could borrow.'

'Teal robes?' my mother said, frowning. 'Well, I don't know. Really, Nymphadora, I don't know why you can't spend some of your salary on clothes for yourself instead of borrowing mine all the time ...'

'Dark turquoise will do if you don't have teal. I'll be wearing them in dim light.'

'Dim light?' she said hopefully, starting to rummage through the wardrobe. 'Nymphadora, does this mean you have a boyfriend?'

Oh no. Cue up the Spanish Inquisition. 'Yes, Mum, I guess I sort of have a boyfriend.'

'What's his name? How tall is he? Is he related to anyone we know? Where does he live?' I managed to ignore most of these questions as she sorted through an ever-growing pile of robes and came up with some nice plain teal ones. Bless Mum and her infinitely capacious wardrobe. I changed clothes hastily, tucking my Sneakoscope under the robes, as she continued, 'Now, I do think you should change into some normal hair if you're going to wear those - perhaps something about shoulder-length, with golden-brown highlights. And I should really lend you some jewellery ... my Saturn earrings would be perfect, but one of them went missing ages ago and I can't find it anywhere. Is this a formal occasion?'

'No, it's very spur-of-the-moment. In fact, I've got to run right now. Thanks loads!'

'Wait, Nymphadora, you haven't even said what his occupation is!'

'Werewolf!' I called over my shoulder as I headed out the door.

As I bolted down the stairs, I heard Mum's voice echoing from above. 'Nymphadora, will you stop being so snarky...'

I transformed myself into a bony and relatively nondescript middle-aged woman. It was possible that Pettigrew might notice his customer bore a strange resemblance to the prophetess herself, but not likely. I was counting on the fact that Sybill just isn't Sybill without her accessories.

'Ready?' asked Remus. He seemed a bit edgy.

'Whenever you are.' I shot him a quick look. 'And don't look so serious. This is going to be fun.'

He vanished under the invisibility cloak, but I could feel his hand on my elbow as we cast an anti-Disapparation jinx on Madame Monica's and casually walked inside.

'Good evening,' I said in my primmest voice. 'I've never consulted a fortuneteller before, but I'm so dreadfully worried that my husband has been unfaithful and I was hoping you might be able to help me.'

'Of course, dear,' said Sybill, laying out the cards. 'Although I regret to say that I have already divined from your aura that I may have some rather bad news for you. Never put your faith in men, my dear...'

Out in the street, Reg began banging on something and shouting, 'THE GOLDEN ELEPHANTS ARE FLED UNTO THE HILLS ON THE SEVENTH DAY! COME OUT, COME OUT, YE SINNERS, AND REPENT! PEACE ON EARTH, GOOD WILL TO HIPPOGRIFFS! OH, WOE, WOE, WRATH AND WRACK AND RUIN APPROACH, AND YET MORE WOE! IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT, AND I FEEL FINE!'

Peter rushed to one of the windows and lifted the curtain to see what was going on. Swiftly, I moved to Sybill's side of the table.

'Shh, don't make a sound,' I whispered. 'I'm here to take your place so you can escape. Larry's waiting for you behind the building.'

She looked at me suspiciously. 'How do I know it's really Larry?'

So the woman wasn't a complete fool after all. I restrained myself from telling her to use the Inner Eye. 'He sent a message. He said to tell you he misses his little Blibbering Humdinger. Now, give me all your scarves and beads - quickly - and your glasses - and go!' I heard a police siren outside, and hoped Reg wasn't about to be arrested.

'But I can't see!' she protested.

I pointed her in the direction of the door and gave her a shove from behind when she hesitated. She stumbled forward.

Peter turned around before she made it out the door, but I had already settled into Sybill's chair and was adjusting her glasses. He noticed nothing amiss except a bolting customer. 'Stop! You can't leave without paying!'

'My dear,' I murmured, 'you must not pursue her as it would only delay her journey to her destined end, which will be far more unpleasant than anything you could devise. And it is bad luck to leave a reading unfinished, so with your permission I shall read the remaining cards for you.'

'Must you?' asked Peter, taking a large swallow of sherry. 'This is the fourth time today, and I think I've got the general idea by now. Death, destruction, and all that.' He sounded as if he were trying to make light of it, but his hand trembled a bit as he replaced the bottle on the table. I wondered whether he was genuinely superstitious, or just all too aware that there's only one way out of the Death Eaters.

'That may indeed be the will of the fates, dear,' I said in my most spiritual voice, 'but each new reading bears within it the potential for change.' I contemplated the Knight of Wands for a moment and began inventing feverishly. 'Alas, my dear, I foresee a troublesome journey ahead of you ... You will go to Egypt and fall victim to the Curse of the Pharaoh's tomb ... which will cause you to be thrown from a very fat horse ... Beware of animals that are an unusual colour, and also of men in armour who carry big sticks ...' I was afraid this last turn of phrase sounded too prosaic for Sybill, but Peter gulped.

I turned over a second card. 'The Nine of Pentacles, an omen of very great danger indeed ... If I were you, dear, I would avoid large birds and unusually small trees, and above all, you must beware of a woman who wears a pancake on her head ...' Larry and Sybill must be well away by now, and the Sneakoscope hadn't gone off, which meant we had only Peter to deal with. I glanced over to the corner where I knew Remus was standing and gave him the signal. 'But alas, I am sorry to say that even if you take warning from what I have said, great trials and tribulations approach on swift wings, and a hidden enemy lurks very near indeed ...'

Or a not-so-hidden enemy, as the case may be. Remus dropped the invisibility cloak as I raised the level of doom, defeat, and despair a notch.

If I had blinked just then, I would have missed the swift, sideways glance that passed between the two men. It was the same look I share with my dad when my mum is being particularly impossible - one part sympathy and one part amusement, with the kind of mutual understanding that doesn't require any words lying underneath it all.

It vanished in less than a second as they became predator and prey.