Hogwarts Raven (Harry Potter)

The sunlight was still warm, and the street looked perfectly ordinary. But Jorkins had never felt so cold or alone. He looked to the mysterious young man before him, his eyes pleading for help.

“Don’t worry,” Ian said.

From the look on Jorkins’s face, Ian could guess what had happened. The poor wizard had become a key piece in someone else’s game. By intervening today, Ian seemed to have been drawn into it as well.

He glanced up at London’s grey sky. “So much for quietly observing.”

The curtain had risen, the players were taking their places, and the unexpected spectator had been given a part.

“What should I do?” Jorkins asked.

He swayed slightly as he came out of his daze, as if he had surfaced from deep water. His head felt heavy, but his thoughts were clear. He touched his forehead and looked at Ian again. This man was the only person who could save him.

Ian didn’t answer at once. He lowered his eyes, sorting through what he had just seen. Silence settled over the alley, with the distant sounds of the city barely reaching them. Jorkins waited, too anxious to interrupt.

At last, Ian looked up. “Mr. Jorkins, your memories are intact. I found no sign of tampering apart from that suggestion. It’s there, and its trigger works exactly as you described. Whoever planted it was extraordinarily skilled, and he certainly had a reason.”

Ian paused. “His abilities go far beyond those of an ordinary wizard. Ancient magic may be involved, perhaps even prophecy. From what I can tell, he was guiding you toward a place where he believed you might find protection—or a way out.”

His gaze settled on Jorkins. “That place happens to be where I appeared. It seems we’ve both stumbled into something much larger.”

The colour drained from Jorkins’s face. “Larger? Sir, what do you mean? Was the person in black working against the Death Eater? Did he deliberately lead me to you? Is he using me to get at you?”

Jorkins had been a Ravenclaw; he could think quickly when he needed to. Right now, fear made it hard to put his thoughts in order.

“I can’t say for certain,” Ian replied. “My guess is that someone wants to draw me into whatever they’re planning. For now, though, you’re safe.”

Ian was no Seer. He couldn’t simply look ahead and know the answer.

He patted Jorkins on the shoulder, startling him almost as much as it reassured him. “I frightened that Death Eater badly enough that he won’t come after you again soon. I also left a mark on his soul. His associates may notice it and think twice. Or they may decide to come after me instead.”

Ian wasn’t concerned. Voldemort was hardly a threat to him. He had even dealt with Voldemort when the man’s mind had been at its sharpest.

“Th-thank you, sir!” Jorkins said, close to tears. Without Ian, he knew he would probably have died today, perhaps after being tortured first.

“No need. I just dislike people causing trouble in the street.” Ian’s tone grew casual again, but then he added, “There is one thing. Don’t report the dark magical object you found, or today’s attack, to anyone yet. Not even your superior, Barty Crouch.”

Jorkins stared at him. “Why? That object is dangerous. Surely it needs to be reported—”

“Because you’re already a target, and this is more complicated than it looks,” Ian said. “The suggestion in your mind tells us a third party is involved. A report could warn them, or pull you into a struggle inside the Ministry that puts you in even greater danger. Crouch has a reputation for fighting Dark magic, but the Ministry around him…”

He left the thought unfinished. Jorkins understood: the Ministry itself might not be entirely trustworthy. Ian also suspected that the dark object was why Jorkins had been caught up in this affair.

Jorkins hesitated. Keeping quiet meant holding on to a dangerous secret by himself. Still, Ian’s advice carried weight, and he seemed to have Jorkins’s interests at heart.

“Then what should I do?”

“Go on with your work and your life, but stay alert. Hide any records you have about the object somewhere private, away from obvious places at home or in the Ministry. As for what happened today, and my involvement…”

Ian studied him for a moment. “You can forget it, or you can keep it secret. I recommend the latter. A Memory Charm might interfere with the suggestion already in your mind.”

“I understand. I won’t tell anyone,” Jorkins promised at once.

“Good. If anything unusual happens, if the suggestion changes, or if you meet that person in black again…” Ian handed him an ordinary-looking black pebble. It felt smooth and warm in Jorkins’s palm. “Hold this and concentrate on me. I’ll sense it. But only use it when you need to.”

Ian had no desire to be summoned over every little worry.

Jorkins accepted the pebble with both hands and gripped it tightly. “Yes, sir. Thank you!”

It felt like a lifeline. He had survived, and Ian had given him a way to ask for help. Beneath his relief and awe, a strange excitement began to stir. He was only an ordinary, rather timid Ministry employee, yet he had crossed paths with someone extraordinary and been entrusted with a secret.

Perhaps he had some part to play in all this after all.

Jorkins had read more than enough stories to let his imagination run away with him. But as he looked at Ian’s calm face, he remembered something important.

“S-sir… that dark magical object I found, the one that got me chased—would you like to see it? Or I could tell you where I hid it. It seemed quite unusual.”

Someone with Ian’s knowledge and power might recognize it at once and know how to deal with it. Offering it up also seemed like a way to show where Jorkins stood. Years at the Ministry had taught him the value of choosing a side.

Ian shook his head. “There’s no need. I’m not interested in examining it yet, and you don’t have to tell me where it is.”

Jorkins looked puzzled. The object had caused all this trouble. How could Ian have no interest in it?

“The Death Eaters are after it,” Ian explained. “That means it’s important, or it’s connected to something important. If I go looking at it now, I’ll make my interest obvious. I might also disrupt whatever the person who planted that suggestion in your mind has arranged.”

He paused. “Sometimes it’s better to leave the bait drifting in the water. Then you can see which fish come for it—and what the person holding the rod is trying to catch.”

“I won’t examine it, ask about it, or interfere directly. Let things continue as they were. Let whoever is watching the object keep watching it, and you. That way, I can learn who’s involved and what the person who guided you here really wants.”

Jorkins didn’t follow every part of Ian’s reasoning, but he understood the general idea: wait, watch, and let the people behind this reveal themselves. Ian’s patience only deepened his respect for him.

“I understand, sir. I’ll carry on as usual and give nothing away.” Ian looked far too young to think like this, Jorkins thought.

“Good.” Ian noticed how pale and tired he still looked. “Go home and rest, Mr. Jorkins. You’ve had a frightening day. Try not to put too much weight on it. You found something suspicious and got caught up in the consequences. The world isn’t ending.”

He considered for a moment, then added in the same matter-of-fact tone, “And I’m here. Even if something does happen to you, as long as your soul isn’t destroyed and you aren’t reduced to ashes on the spot, I can probably find a way to bring you back. So get on with your life.”

‘Bring me back? Even if I die?’

Jorkins stared at him, mouth slightly open. Bringing back the dead belonged to the realm of legend and forbidden magic. Even the finest Healers and potion-makers could do nothing once someone was truly gone. Was Ian merely trying to comfort him, or could he actually do it?

From anyone else, Jorkins would have dismissed it as boasting. But Ian had just overwhelmed a Death Eater, performed magic Jorkins could scarcely understand, and found the suggestion hidden in his mind. Against all reason, Jorkins believed him.

“I… I believe you. Thank you, sir. Thank you.” His voice caught. Much of the fear he had been holding in finally fell away. If Ian was watching this affair, Jorkins could manage his own part in it.

He knew well enough that, for now, his part was to be the bait.

“Off you go,” Ian said.

“Good day, sir.”

Jorkins bowed once more and hurried down the alley. His steps were still unsteady, but he no longer looked as though he expected disaster at every turn. He had survived, met someone extraordinary, and perhaps glimpsed a little of what lay beneath the world he knew.

Ian remained where he was long after Jorkins disappeared. His expression turned thoughtful.

“The person in black… the prophetic suggestion… the way it led him here…”

His fingers tapped lightly against the cold brick wall. “Did they know I was here? Or did they only foresee that something would happen here?”

Either was possible. If the person knew about Ian Prince, they might know who he was and where he had come from. That would be troublesome: Ian would have less of an advantage than he thought.

The other possibility was easier to believe. Perhaps they had foreseen that someone capable of changing Jorkins’s fate would be in this alley at this time, and planted the suggestion to guide him here. In that case, Ian himself had not been the intended target. The person had merely taken a chance on an opportunity they had glimpsed.

Even so, anyone who could plant such a precise, lasting suggestion and see enough of the future to make use of it was dangerous. Saving Jorkins was unlikely to be their only aim. Jorkins, or the dark object he had found, was probably one piece of a larger plan.

Ian thought it over. The second possibility seemed much more likely. No wizard could arrange the fate of a Legendary being—not even a god could do that. Between someone knowing in advance that Ian would come here and someone foreseeing it only after he arrived, Ian trusted the latter explanation.

(End Of This Chapter)