October Twilight

October Twilight
Chapter Eight
“Third Eye Closing”

April 31st, 1975
5th Year

Dorcas stumbled through the wide corridors of Hogwarts with only the portraits and suits of armor to witness her strangled sobs. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if to block out some terrible scene playing out in front of her. Her right hand hovered mere inches away from the wall, and each time the tips of her fingers bumped against the cold stone, she would cry out as if the stone had burned her.

The first rays of dawn were stretching over the horizon as the girl stumbled into the entrance hall. She groped around, her arms flailing wildly as she tried to orient herself without opening her eyes. Her foot caught on the heavy carpet that lay in the center of hall, and she tumbled to the ground. Her sobs grew louder as she thrashed about, trying to untangle her limbs from the bathrobe she had pulled over her baggy pajamas. She rolled around, moaning pitifully as if the carpet were physically hurting her.

She pushed herself up from the ground too quickly and stumbled again. As her knees crashed into the stone floor, she brought her hands up to her head and curled into a tight ball, her whole body racked with sobs. She rocked back and forth, whimpering unintelligible words through the tears that stained her face.

Dorcas tugged painfully at her long hair, trying everything within her power to numb the ache building behind her eyes. Blood pounded louder in her ears the longer she kept the unbidden images at bay. If she didn’t open her eyes, she wouldn’t see the hazy premonitions and wouldn’t have to dwell on them for days. Everything she touched triggered the blurry images, but she didn’t want to see them. She didn’t want to know who would trip on the last stair on the way to breakfast the following morning or who would attend the next Hogsmeade weekend with the boy she had a crush on. She had to get to Dumbledore’s office. He could make the pounding go away and could take the images out of her mind. That’s all she wanted, to get rid of these premonitions.

Three figures appeared at the end of the hallway and peered around the corner curiously. The young men were returning from an all-night rendezvous in Hogsmeade and were anxious to avoid bumping into anyone on their way back to Gryffindor Tower. One of their number had been left in the hospital wing to recover, making the flight back to their dormitory halfway completed. They could have avoided the entrance hall, knowing a great number of shortcuts through the castle, but the sobbing girl had drawn their attention.

The tallest of the three, a young man with cropped black hair and gray eyes, stepped around the corner first, surveying the crying girl at a distance. He recognized her at once, she being the object of his affection who had not yet seen the error of her ways in rejecting his advances.

“Meadowes?” Black asked.

The girl yelped and huddled into a tighter ball, her fingers tangling in her tousled hair as she pressed her chin to her chest. Black knelt down in front of her, reaching out slowly. Behind him, Peter and James edged closer, both looking on warily. Many strange things happened at Hogwarts, but crying girls were perhaps the most confusing of all.

As Black’s fingers grazed Dorcas’s arm, her eyes snapped open. The wide, tear-filled amber orbs penetrated his mind, holding him in place as the unfamiliar sensation caused fragmented memories to swim behind his eyes. Dorcas’s hand had closed around his wrist, and he couldn’t pull away from her vice-like grip.

His shrieking mother proclaimed that he was a disgrace … James had one antler sticking out of his messy black hair … He was waking up in the sterile white hospital wing …

Quite suddenly, Dorcas was not seeing Black’s memories at all. She retreated from his mind, trying desperately to not watch the premonitions caused by the accidental Legilimency that had shattered her Occlumency defenses, but the pain behind her eyes lessened the more she Saw, so she allowed it to continue for the physical relief it brought.

A strapping twenty-year-old man with Black’s eyes and smile lounged on a couch … a building in flames … malicious gleaming red eyes and a high, cold laugh … the brilliant green light of a Killing Curse … a pool of blood on white carpet ….

The images vanished and Dorcas was brought back into the present moment. Black was kneeling in front of her again, his gray eyes filled with fear. Dorcas heard herself screaming and tried to scoot away from the boy, but her slippers tangled in her bathrobe. Potter had moved past Black, and was reaching out for her, but she retreated further away, squeezing her eyes shut again.

“Do not touch her!”

Potter, Black, and Pettigrew whirled around. Headmaster Dumbledore was standing at the foot of the stairs in a purple dressing gown covered with silver moons and stars. As he strode across the entrance hall, Dorcas pushed herself shakily to her feet.

“I was coming … woke up … woke me up …,” she rambled.

“Come with me. Mr. Black, Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore glanced further down the hallway where Pettigrew was cowering against the wall, clutching to the crevices in the stone. “Mr. Pettigrew, you three will come with us, but wait outside my office until I come for you.”

Dumbledore grasped Dorcas firmly by the forearm and steered her through the corridors of the castle. He walked swiftly, almost dragging her along.

“… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named … Through my own eyes …”

With each broken phrase, her voice rose higher and grew shakier. Behind the Headmaster, Potter and Black exchanged worried glances. Dorcas was known for her rather emotional outbursts, especially when the Marauders were involved, but she always spoke intelligently. Cowering beside Professor Dumbledore and ranting incoherently, she looked like a lost child instead of the sophisticated and elegant young lady they had come to know.

Dumbledore swept the girl into his office without so much as a glance at the three Marauders. Once he had seated Dorcas in a chintz armchair, the Headmaster gently probed into her mind, bringing forth the premonition that had frightened her so much. Raising his wand tip to her temple, he extracted the silvery thread and deposited it into the stone basin waiting on his desk.

He had been expecting this for days. In their last Occlumency lesson, Dorcas had had a difficult time concentrating and complained of sudden headaches. He had told her she was experiencing warning signs that her mental defenses were weakening, but with O.W.L.s coming up, her young mind was too distracted to successfully block the Sight.

Dorcas descended the stairs fifteen minutes later with a promise from Dumbledore that she could come to his office during her afternoon break and discover the true nature of the premonition in the Pensieve. He had an idea of what the premonition was, and he had doubts about allowing her to see it again. She was too young to understand that her Sight would not always be accurate, and he didn’t want to frighten her. Still, it was her gift and sooner or later she would have to learn to bear the weight of it alone.

“Mr. Black, please escort Miss Meadowes to the hospital wing,” Dumbledore said, handing Black a magically sealed scroll. “Give this to Madam Pomfrey. Please return once Miss Meadowes is taken care of.”

Too mentally exhausted to argue, Dorcas trudged along beside Black as Dumbledore ushered Potter and Pettigrew into the Head’s Office. Neither spoke during the walk to the hospital wing. Once, Dorcas stumbled when her eyes drooped shut, and Black caught her below the elbow, but quickly removed his hand when she glanced in his direction.

Madam Pomfrey seemed to know they were coming because she was waiting at the doors with a cup full of potion. Dorcas drank the Sleeping Draught without protest, very much wanting the dreamless sleep that would follow. She slumped onto the nearest bed and drew the covers up around herself.

“Can I sit with her? Until she’s asleep?” she heard Black ask.

“Thought I had you pegged as inconsiderate and arrogant,” Dorcas mumbled.

“What was that, dear?” Madam Pomfrey questioned.

Dorcas blinked a few times to clear her head, trying to remember what she had said to Black only moments before. Madam Pomfrey was gone, but Black was perched on the edge of the chair next to her bed. He leaned closer when he saw that she was still awake.

“You’re a Legilimens, aren’t you? You saw my memories.”

Dorcas nodded slowly, or thought she did. The potion was making her limbs feel very heavy. “I wasn’t prying. It was an accident.”

“That’s really advanced magic,” Black remarked.

Dorcas only blinked a few times. She could barely keep her eyes open. Even through the fog pressing in on her mind, she noted the curious tone in his voice.

“I wasn’t supposed to learn it. Please don’t tell Dumbledore. He only wanted me to learn Occlumency, but I figured I might as well do the thing properly.”

Black chuckled softly. “Spoken like a true Marauder. If only you’d stop coddling every first year James hexes and telling Evans all his indiscretions, we could be good friends.”

“We will be, but not for a long, long time.”

Black cocked his head to one side. “How do you figure that?”

Dorcas pried her eyes open. She was rapidly losing the battle to stay awake. “Can’t tell you. You know too much all ready.”

Black leaned closer, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips. “You can tell me. Or I can tell Dumbledore about your extracurricular activities.”

“You think you’re smart, don’t you, Black?” Dorcas grinned. “Blackmail won’t work. I have too much on you.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Dorcas settled down into her pillows and sighed deeply. She wouldn’t be able to fight the Sleeping Draught much longer. She heard Madam Pomfrey’s shoes clicking on the hard floor. Any second the nurse was going to force more of the potion down Dorcas’s throat.

“I like dogs, I really do.” Even though her eyes were closed, she could tell that Black was watching her intently because he was sitting unnaturally still. “Especially big dogs, they’re so loyal and playful. Loyal enough to take on the Whomping Willow, I’d say.”

“How did you …”

Dorcas smiled impishly. “Like I said, you know too much as it is.”

*~*~*

March, 1979

It nearly midday when Dorcas finally led her younger brother and cousin out of their Uncle Jon’s flat above the family restaurant. Across the road, King’s Cross Station was bustling with activity. Dorcas sighed longingly, wishing back the days when the Hogwarts Express would whisk her away from cold reality every year. Darius and Angelica would be going back to Hogwarts where Dumbledore’s vigilance shielded them from the darkness consuming the wizarding world.

Not that the two students showed any signs of happiness. Darius had handled himself well considering that he was now an orphan. Angelica, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped crying in a week. Being a student at Hogwarts, she hadn’t been home when Death Eaters attacked Malcolm and Janice Meadowes’s house. Like Dorcas had suspected, Death Eaters had murdered her uncle and aunt to find out the location of Meadowes Manor, but they had gone even further than that. They had killed all three of Angelica’s younger brothers too.

“You’ll be safe with Dumbledore,” Dorcas said soothingly, wrapping her young cousin in an embrace.

The twelve-year-old girl looked up at her with tearful brown eyes and nodded slowly. She was already dressed in her Hogwarts uniform that proudly displayed the Hufflepuff crest. Dorcas had taken care of her the previous year, but it was up to Darius to do that now.

“You can talk to Professor Sprout whenever you need.”

“What happens this summer?” Angelica asked, voicing a concern Dorcas shared.

“I’m getting that sorted out with the Ministry.”

She glanced sidelong at Darius to warn him not to say anything else. He would be coming to stay with her, but Angelica’s fate wasn’t decided yet. The only other living member of the Meadowes family was Great Uncle Orion, a very old Squib, but Angelica’s mother’s Muggle family had offered to take her in.

Dorcas waved her wand and next moment the Knight Bus appeared with a loud bang. The conductor, a skinny wizard with bottle cap glasses called Ernie, helped Darius and Angelica with their bags. Dorcas hugged them both once more. She felt the need to say something motherly before sending them away for three more months.

“Don’t cause too much trouble. The prefects have enough to worry about with exams coming up. Good luck with Quidditch,” she added, looking at Darius.

She watched the Knight Bus disappear with a bang before Apparating back to her flat. Uncle Jon had been gracious with his home, especially since Angelica wasn’t related to him except through a complex chain of marriages, but it was time for Dorcas to set up her own home. She had been approached about rebuilding Meadowes Manor, but it didn’t seem like the right thing to do at the moment. She thought she might have it done when the war was over.

She had emptied her flat of her possessions in September, when she had moved back home to be with her father. The rooms echoed without furniture and it felt cold without pictures on the walls and rugs on the bare floor. The insurance check from Gringott’s had arrived earlier in the week, and the purchases she had made in Diagon Alley were scattered throughout the flat. Even magically unpacking would take her days.

Sighing, she waved her wand at the radio perched on the mantle. The speakers crackled to life and the radio began playing the songs Dorcas had charmed it to memorize. She thought Full Moon Blush was moody enough suit her current disposition, so she let her favorite band play.

An hour into her unpacking, there was a knock at the door. She left the utensils to unpack themselves, but when she stumbled past the boxes of books arranging themselves alphabetically on the shelves, she waved her wand and they fell lifelessly to the floor. It wouldn’t do to let a Muggle see her books floating in midair.

She was surprised to see Lily and Remus waiting in the hall. They had attended the funerals, but Dorcas had spent most of the services consoling her brother and cousin rather than talking to any of her friends, except for Sirius, who had sat beside her the whole day.

“Come in,” she said, stepping back to allow them room.

Inside the flat, they glanced awkwardly at one another. Dorcas hadn’t spoken to either of them in over two months, but she had never stopped thinking about them. She alternated between extreme anger and loneliness. She and Lily had been best friends since first-year, and Remus had joined their clique in third-year. In the past week, she had nearly forgotten that they didn’t trust her completely. She couldn’t stand the rift between them any longer. If only she had swallowed her pride with her dad, they might not have been parted on such bad terms.

“We just came to say--”

Lily’s words were cut off by Dorcas pulling her into a firm embrace. After a moment, the young women released one arm each and pulled Remus into the hug. When they parted, Dorcas and Lily were wiping tears from their eyes.

“Women,” Remus joked, but he was blinking rapidly and wouldn’t meet their gazes.

“How did you know I was here?” Dorcas asked finally.

“Sirius told us,” Lily replied, studying her best friend carefully. “From the way it sounds, you’ve been spending a lot of time with my fiancé’s sidekick.”

Dorcas only grunted in response. She didn’t trust herself to answer the probing statement. She was sure she’d sound embittered about why she had turned to Sirius for friendship.

“I could use a hand unpacking,” she said. “If your Charms work is still up to scratch after nine months out of school, that is.”

Lily answered by waving her wand at a box full of Healers robes which immediately zoomed out of the box and onto their hangers. They spent the next several hours unpacking, arranging furniture, and cleaning up, all while lounging around the sitting room and pointing their wands. Around dinner time, Remus left for guard duty in Hogsmeade.

“Magic is great,” Lily sighed. “We moved when I was eight, and I remember lugging boxes upstairs and spending days putting it all away.”

“Lily,” Dorcas said somberly, setting down her butterbeer.

She had been preoccupied all day about how to broach the delicate topic and what she would say when she finally mustered up the courage. The visions she’d had at Holly Falls around Christmas of Lily’s and Potter’s deaths haunted her thoughts every time she looked in Lily’s direction.

“Do you think that the people who have the ability to make a difference have the responsibility to do it?”

“Of course,” Lily answered at once. “That’s what the Order is about, isn’t it? We’re not really supposed to do it according to Ministry laws, but who else will?”

Dorcas took a deep breath. “Then I need to tell you something … about the future.”

“No,” Lily said, looking away from her friend. “You made a promise, Dorcas.”

“I made that promise when I was twelve, when I was still using the Sight to find out which boys had crushes on us! Things are different now, Lily.”

“Yes, they are, but I still don’t want to know.”

“You could change the future. If you’ll just let me tell you, you’ll know what to do differently.”

Lily shook her head. “I don’t want to live my life glancing over my shoulder, wondering if the decisions I made were the right ones to change the future. I can’t live that, Dorcas.”

“But, Lily, you don’t understand! This isn’t just about you. It’s about ….” Dorcas’s following words were cut off. Lily had placed a Silencing Charm on her.

“I said I don’t want to know.”

When Dorcas promised not to say anything else about the future, Lily removed the charm. But Dorcas had already made up her mind. She wasn’t going to drop the subject until someone listened to her, and she knew just the person to tell.

After classes the following day, Dorcas Apparated to Godric’s Hollow. She didn’t relish coming to Potter again, but seeing as how this matter involved him as well, she felt that she had no choice.

“Lily’s not here,” Potter said, when he opened the door.

“Hello, good to see you too. I’m not here for Lily.”

“Oh, well, Remus is up north, so …” Dorcas shook her head. “Um … Sirius?”

“No, Potter, I’m here at your house because I need to talk to you.”

Potter looked confused. This was the second time Dorcas had shown up on his doorstep claiming that they needed to talk.

They settled in the drawing room without any small talk or friendly smiles over tea. Dorcas wanted to get right to the point, and she thought Potter probably did also.

“Do you remember the day in fifth-year when you, Sirius, and Petti--Peter found me in the entrance hall?” she asked, shifting awkwardly in her seat.

Potter nodded. “Sure, Dumbledore came and got you and Sirius took you to the hospital wing. Sirius said you knew all about us, is that was this is about?” He looked irritated now.

For her part, Dorcas was trying very hard to remember some detail of that day she might have forgotten. She had no clue what Potter meant. Seeing the confusion on her face, Potter calmed down slightly.

“Anyway … Did Dumbledore tell you anything about it?”

Potter shook his head. “Not really. He just said that we were clever enough to have figured it out and made us swear to never tell anybody. He said if you wanted him to, he would erase our memories, but he never did.”

“No,” Dorcas replied, shaking her head. “I always thought if I was careless enough to let someone find out, then I had to deal with the consequences. Did you figure it out?”

Potter nodded, and Dorcas grimaced. Entirely too many people knew about her ability. She couldn’t help but be surprised, however. Potter and Black had never acted any different around her after that day, even when she had yelled at them and taken points, sometimes unfairly. They had never used it against her. Once again, she was struck by how wrong her assumptions about them had been.

“Well, then I’ll get to the point. I need to tell you something …”

Dorcas left Godric’s Hollow more frustrated than she had been went she arrived. She stomped down the street, not caring that the Muggles were pointing at her robes and whispering curiously to one another.

Damn them! Damn them both! Dorcas had made a promise to Lily, and she could respect that Lily wanted her to keep her end of the agreement. But Potter was just too bullheaded for his own good. His high-and-mighty attitude had grated on her last nerve. He thought himself invincible! If he would have listened to her, he would know how untrue that was. But, of course, perfect Potter didn’t need a Seer to know his own future.

She had tried to explain that she knew there was no such thing as destiny and that the Sight was only accurate if the person kept making the same kinds of choices between the vision and the actual event. But did Potter listen? Of course he didn’t.

Dorcas was still in the same predicament. Lily and Potter wouldn’t listen to her, and if they didn’t, they were going to die. The solution came to her suddenly and her whole disposition changed. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She would tell Sirius. He would make sure nothing happened to Lily and Potter. It was such an obvious solution that Dorcas actually laughed at her stupidity. If there was one person in the world who could make Potter see reason, it was Sirius.

The next three days passed painfully slowly. It seemed that every time Dorcas had a break, Sirius was in class. When she didn’t have missions for the Order, Sirius did. Thursday afternoon, Dorcas was studying her Transfiguration notes during lunch when Sirius showed up at St. Mungo’s.

“A few years ago I would have loved to have you sending me owls twice a day, but now I have to admit, it’s got me a little worried,” he said, taking the seat opposite her.

Dorcas indulged in a playful smile. Sirius flashed her the trademark smile that used to make her melt. If she were being honest, she found him extremely handsome, but it still annoyed her that he knew how gorgeous he was.

“I can’t tell you here. There are too many people.”

“Well, we could sneak into a broom cupboard,” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows roguishly. Seeing the scowl on Dorcas’s face, he added, “Or I could come by later tonight.”

“Whichever one won’t get you slapped, right?”

Sirius only grinned. “I have a class.”

Dorcas collected her books and left the cafeteria with him, also having a class. As they passed the Welcome Witch’s station, Marlene gave Dorcas a knowing look, and Dorcas glared in response.

“I thought you were friends with Marlene,” Sirius stated, joining the queue at the fires.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she replied, waving her hand nonchalantly. “She thinks there’s something going on between us, that’s all.”

Dorcas knew she must have read his expression incorrectly, but she thought Sirius looked hurt for a second. She said good-bye and headed for the stairs to the basement classrooms, wondering why she had imagined Sirius being hurt by her comment.

Later that night, she was flipping through Healers of the 19th Century when a brilliantly white sparrow-Patronus alighted on her hand. She pulled out her wand and tapped it once. A scroll fell into her hand where the Patronus had been perched.

You’re needed at Headquarters.

She tossed the book aside and jotted a quick note to Sirius explaining that she wouldn’t be at home. Her tawny owl, Isis, accepted the letter and flew out the window. Dorcas headed out the door quickly. When she was called to Holly Falls, it was usually because someone had been injured doing secret Order business and didn’t want to raise questions at St. Mungo’s.

Ten minutes later, she was being ushered up the stairs towards the hospital ward by Elphias Doge, the owner of the sparrow-Patronus. She knew him well, as he was a Security Wizard at St. Mungo’s and a resident of Hampshire Village. She expected to find someone grievously wounded in a hospital bed, but instead Doge guided her into the small office adjacent to the ward. A small vial of clear liquid with multicolored sparkles suspended in the solution was sitting on her desk.

“What’s this?” Dorcas wondered.

“That’s what I need you to find out. I was working my shift in the Magical Bugs ward tonight, and I found George Pinchot slipping this into the medicine cabinet beside Barty Crouch’s bed.”

“Mr. Pinchot the janitor?”

“One and the same. He said it had fallen out of the cabinet, but you know as well I do that each Healer has special wards on those drawers so that only they can open them. Well, I found him with Healer Hobson’s wand, and when I did a little checking, I found Hobson passed out cold in his office. Bones is checking him over, but it looked like a heavy Sleeping Jinx had knocked him out. And since Barty Crouch was the patient, well, it’s suspicious, isn’t it? Bones told me to have you identify this potion. If the Ministry gets hold of it, we’ll never find out what kind of Potion-maker has joined You-Know-Who.”

Dorcas had a good idea of who had brewed the Potion, and if she was correct, there was very little chance of her easily identifying it, much less finding an antidote. She poured half the vial into a cauldron and replaced the stopper.

“Take this to the Ministry straight away. We don’t want you to look suspicious by taking too long to get it there.”

When Doge left the room, Dorcas sent her Patronus to Lily. Next to Severus Snape, she had been the best Potion-maker in their year. Lily didn’t have the advanced medical classes Dorcas did, but she would be able to help nonetheless.

While she waited for Lily, Dorcas went to work on the Potion. She cast several Replenishing Charms until the whole cauldron was full and she was sure she’d have enough to work with. She went into the hospital ward and returned with an armload of ingredients for antidotes.

“What’s going on?” Lily asked. “Is everyone okay?”

“Thanks to Doge. Although, Barty Crouch was about to ingest some of this instead of his medicine.”

“What is it?” Lily asked, peering into the cauldron.

“I’m guessing it’s something unpleasant because Slughorn never taught us how to make it, and Healer Bones hasn’t covered its antidote in Medicinal Potions yet. I think it’s meant to look like Thalling Tonic, which is a mild sedative. It wouldn’t look at all out of place in the Magical Bug ward.”

Lily pulled Moste Potente Potions off the bookshelf and began flipping through it while Dorcas experimented with the potion in small crystal vials. They spent half the night trading suggestions and observing the potion. Nothing seemed to change its configuration in the slightest, not even dragon blood.

“I give up,” Lily said, leaning back in her chair. “There’s nothing in any of these books about it.”

“Which means whoever brewed it created the potion from the properties of its separate ingredients. But nothing will make it separate,” Dorcas yawned.

Lily sat up straight suddenly and smacked her forehead. “Of course! What was the one question every person missed on our Potion’s final in sixth-year?”

Dorcas raised one eyebrow. “Sorry to disappoint, Lily, but I missed a lot of questions on that final.”

“Well, I didn’t. I only missed one.”

She held her hand over a bowl of the potion, and using her wand, made a small cut on her palm. When the first drop of blood fell into the potion, it began to sizzle and swirl violently. A dazzling pattern of color lit up the potion and then it dried up, separating into many clumps of some slimy substance.

“What the hell is that?” Dorcas wondered aloud.

“There’s one person who will definitely know,” Lily said. “Pack it up. We’re going to see Dumbledore.”

Normally, Dorcas would have objected. She didn’t want to see the Headmaster, because she hadn’t yet come to terms with what she had done the night her father died. Dumbledore would be furious with her for intentionally using Legilimency, but even more furious because she had been so slow in repelling the Death Eater’s attack. He had found out damaging information and wouldn’t hesitate to tell He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Her curiosity about the potion won out. She had never encountered a Dark potion before, although she had read about some. This particular concoction involved blood magic of the Darkest kind. It was something Dorcas would learn about only towards the end of her Healer training.

After carefully packing the separated ingredients, the young women went downstairs to the sitting room where Order meetings were held. The fire was connected directly to the fire in the Head’s Office at Hogwarts, but to no other grate. Lily went first, and Dorcas gave her a few moments to inform Dumbledore of the situation before she arrived.

“… type of blood magic,” Lily was saying when Dorcas arrived.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said, motioning to Dorcas. “If I may …”

She laid the vials on his desk and stepped back. The Headmaster was silent for several moments. He prodded the slimy ingredients with his wand tip, turned them over, and whispered incantations. Finally, he laid down his wand.

“I have seen this potion before, and you are correct. It is Dark magic. It’s called the Draught of Multiple Awareness.”

Lily and Dorcas glanced at one another from the corners of their eyes, but didn’t ask the questions they were both pondering. Dumbledore chuckled slightly, but when he spoke again, he was utterly serious.

“It makes our otherwise controllable actions involuntary. This potions makes our conscious, our internal ramblings come alive. It fills our heads with little voices, so to speak. Any person who ingests even a single drop will be sent to a sanitarium for the rest of their lives.”

“Pinchot was putting it in Mr. Crouch’s medicine cabinet,” Dorcas said.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “It’s beginning, I suppose.”

“Beginning, sir?” Lily asked. “The war has been going on for years.”

“Yes, but the first phase is over. Voldemort is no longer satisfied with killing Muggle-borns and blood traitors. For quite some time, he’s been going after Aurors. He’s attacking the Ministry now. Millicent Bagnold will need to be warned.

“And now we know that Voldemort has a very talented witch or wizard working for him. This potion is beyond the abilities of most. I daresay Voldemort could brew it, but I don’t believe he worries himself over menial jobs such as stirring cauldrons these days.”

Dorcas took a deep breath. She knew what she was about to say would cause herself a lot of grief, but it would also give Dumbledore and the Order an advantage.

“Sir, I think I know who brewed the potion.”

Dumbledore looked up sharply. “And how would you know the identity of any Death Eater other than those already in Azkaban?”

His voice was cold, and Dorcas knew he had already guessed the answer. She took another calming breath before she told Dumbledore and Lily the whole story.