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Recolitus Optimus


By megan_lupin


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Part I: It All Started with a Card


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It was quite late – or early, depending on how one wanted to look at it – but he just was not tired. He had been lying in his bed for several hours, as a matter of fact, and had gained maybe two hours of sleep – total. Finally giving it up as a lost cause, he descended the stairs that connected the dormitories to the common room.


A light patter of raindrops could be heard tinkling off of the glass windows, and the previously blazing fire in the grate had since died; it was now only dim, flickering embers that did little to fight the slight chill that was in the air during this late autumn night. He glanced quickly around the common room, taking in the empty chairs and mostly-cleared tables. Good, no one’s awake, he thought to himself. The young man did not feel like talking to anyone, and was pleased to see that he wouldn’t have to worry about that problem. Apparently, everyone was sound asleep tonight at around a quarter to three. Like I should be, he thought.


Putting the thought out of his mind for the time being, he headed over towards one of the tables that he and his friends had been sitting at earlier that night. It was one of the only tables with books, parchment, quills, and ink still scattered across it. As he sat down in the chair closest to the window, he looked through the different essays that they had left behind before heading to the dormitory.


“‘Compare and Contrast the Goblin Rebellions of 1756 and 1877, with those of the Giant Wars of the 1820s,’� he said, reading the first essay’s title that he came across. Glancing at the essay itself, Sirius saw that it belonged to Remus. No surprise, he thought, his eyes following the detailed explanations that ran about eleven inches down the parchment. (They only had to write seven inches, but Remus was the only one of them who had actually found more to write; the rest had barely managed to ramble on for the required length.) Sirius set the essay aside and flipped through the other papers.


Titles of essays or books jumped out at him. There was Peter's ‘Why Muggles Need Electricity’ assignment for Muggle Studies, James’s Advanced Transfiguration: An In-Depth Text, and his own Potions book and homework, among other texts. Glancing through everything, though, Sirius saw that the only thing of Remus's was the History of Magic essay … But then again, Remus very rarely left his stuff just lying around the common room anyway.


After he had gone through the different things on the table, however, Sirius grew bored. He still wasn’t tired – and knew he wouldn’t fall asleep even if he did go and lay in his bed until morning. What to do, he thought, his eyes scanning the room for anything that another Gryffindor might have left out. He’d even read a textbook if he couldn’t find anything else. Fortunately, though, he didn’t have to resort to such ‘enlightening’ reading.


In one of the chairs by the dying fire sat someone’s copy of the newest issue of Quidditch Quarterly – a title that didn’t quite make sense, as the magazine came out monthly. Sitting down in the chair, Sirius picked up the issue and started flipping through the pages, reading the headlines in the search for something a bit more interesting than the numerous pages on Kanaye Kikuchi, a 57-year-old Japanese Keeper that was finally retiring from the game.


When he came to the middle of the issue, however, something fell into his lap. Picking it up, he found two different Chocolate Frog cards – neither of which he’d seen before. And they were as opposite from each other as possible.


One of the cards had a photograph of a blonde-haired woman in a light blue gown, her long hair curling down her back and framing her heart-shaped face. A giant smile split her lips as she looked up from the card, and her teeth could actually be considered to be sparkling. Sirius turned the card over to read just who the witch was:



Glenda Goodwich
1826 – 1917


Charms mistress of the nineteenth century, Glenda was well-known for her peace-spreading roles during many skirmishes between different Magical species. Goodwich was especially recognised for her pursuit of fair treatment towards “anything that breathed�, and Glenda specialised in the ancient workings of love-based magic and light-hearted charms.



The other card’s witch couldn’t have been more different from Glenda Goodwich. While Glenda seemed light-hearted, happy, and all-around nice, the same couldn’t be said for Ms Maleficent.



Melinda Maleficent
1799 – 1877


Regarded as one of the Darkest witches of the nineteenth century, Melinda Maleficent was well-known for her methods employed during the Great Blood Debates of the mid-1800s. Maleficent – herself a member of the conservative group: Recolitus Optimus – took matters into her own hands in arguing against the oncoming radicals seeking equality. She was backed by many leading powers, but was considered to go ‘too far’ when it was discovered that the Massacre of 1845 – whereupon 421 people (mostly those with ties to the radicals) were slaughtered in broad daylight – was her own making. Maleficent remained at large until late 1876; she was tried and found guilty for her crimes, though she died before any sentence could be carried out.



Melinda Maleficent’s darkness was evident in her photographic image – or at least, what could be clearly seen from her image. The dark, black background of the card seemed to cover up most of her form, all except what a sort of eerie candle-like light seemed to show. Straggly black hair hung around a gaunt, pale face, though Maleficent’s eyes burned with a passion that made their blue depths appear like blistering coldness. It was clear that her reputation was not fabricated, judging by her image on the card, at least.


Sirius looked at the two different cards in his hands for awhile. They both made different feelings run through the teen. Glenda could make anyone nauseous – She was just too happy, really, what with her wide, gleaming smile and glittering gown. Melinda, on the other hand, looked far too chilling for comfort. Death seemed to radiate from her card, and she seemed just like one who would love to hear the screams of little children. There was a Dementor-like quality about Maleficent as well. And for a moment, Sirius thought about what he’d read on the back of her card – the Great Blood Debates.


It’s not a lot unlike now, he thought, his eyes catching sight of a recent copy of the Daily Prophet that lay on a nearby table next to a copy of Witch Weekly. The headlines of the wizarding newspaper had been more ominous in the past few months than many recalled it ever being. Just the past day (the day that the paper was from, as a matter of fact), the front page held large black-and-white photographs of a flickering, serpentine formation in a night sky. It took readers until the sixth page before they hit any news that didn’t have a dark quality to it (and the issue was only ten pages long).


Yes, today is a lot like the Great Blood Debates, thought Sirius, glancing back at the gaunt-faced, black-haired woman. Definitely.


Time ticked by as Sirius stared at the card in his hand, seemingly entranced by the dark appearance of Melinda Maleficent. He had already read the details on the back of the card three times, but while he wanted to toss the card away – get the darkness away from him – there was something that stopped him. There was something about this particular card that was different … It seemed to touch a certain part of Sirius, like it felt a connection to a small bit of him that it didn’t want to separate from.


And so, he kept looking at the dark card, his fingers running over the photograph of the witch repeatedly, as if sensing that there was something there. That’s ridiculous, he thought, pulling his mind from such ideas. It’s just a card … There’s nothing hidden inside it.


But even as the denials floated through his mind, Sirius glanced down at his hands, specifically his thumb. There was a splotch of black on it, he noticed, and for a moment he thought he had gotten ink on it after reading through the different essays, and had only just noticed it. About to accept this explanation, Sirius went to wipe the spot off onto his shirt when he saw the image of Maleficent again.


Maleficent’s picture had blurred slightly; there was a smudge from the black background that ran across her body – like someone had run their hand through wet paint and smeared the image. Her blue eyes still held their cold, yet burning, glare as she fixed her stare onto him. And Sirius felt it again – that sense of searching, seeking out a connection to a part of him, like the eyes of Melinda weren’t just in the picture, but elsewhere –


No, he thought to himself, rubbing his own eyes. Maybe I do need sleep. As he lowered his hands, however, he caught sight of more black ink, this time also with an added tiny point of blue. Sirius glanced at his hands, then down to the card of Maleficent and back again, his mind trying to tell him that what he was starting to think was simply not possible. There’s no way, a part of him argued, but still, he reached down once again, placed a finger on the image, and ran it across before looking at both his hand and the card again.


Another black streak had appeared on Sirius's finger, with a matching faded image now seen on the photograph of Melinda. Odd, he thought, and a part of his mind spoke in a voice that sounded eerily like Lily when she was in Head Girl mode. “That shouldn’t be happening. Just put the card away.� But, like he generally tended to do, Sirius ignored the voice, his own curiosity getting the better of him as he sought to remove more of the paint from the image. Bringing his hand back down to the card, he ran a finger over the border of the image, seeing the paint smudge and smear as he traced the outside – and that’s when he felt it.


There was a yanking like a hook was being jerked behind his navel, and the common room started to swirl and blur before his eyes. He felt himself being pulled forwards, and he disappeared from his chair in the Gryffindor common room, one thought on his mind.


Oh, shit.


After a brief few seconds of swirling through nothingness, Sirius landed – hard – on smooth stone. Surprised by the sudden impact, he was unable to catch himself and stumbled and fell, barely managing to keep his head from slamming into the stone floor. Groaning, he picked himself up slowly from the ground, taking the first chance to look around at his surroundings.


Sirius had arrived in a long, dark, stone corridor. Walls of stone matching the floor surrounded him on both sides, but those at the corridor’s ends couldn’t be seen clearly. Tarnished brackets hung attached to the walls, dimly lit torches flickering as the flames struggled to give light to the setting. Sirius looked left and right, but no doors or windows were visible. Well, that’s just wonderful, he thought. Nothing could be heard, either; it seemed like Sirius was the only one in the corridor.


On an impulse, he glanced back down at the Chocolate Frog card that he still held in his hand, surprised that it hadn’t fallen out of his grasp when he fell. The image of Melinda Maleficent was completely untarnished, just like it had been when he’d first seen the card. The smears of paint were gone; nothing was smudged or damaged in any way. Sirius glanced at his own hands, but was surprised to see that the ink had disappeared from his fingers as well; there was no evidence that he had removed any paint from the card – neither on the card itself nor on his own hands. Curious, he ran his finger over the picture again, but when he removed it, Maleficent still remained the same – and his own hand was unblemished as well.


Great, he thought. Just great. Now where the hell am I? Sirius pocketed the card – though he wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t just toss it away – and headed down the corridor, hoping he’d come across some sort of doorway eventually … It couldn’t be a never-ending path of stone, could it?


But as he walked, Sirius started to feel a slight tingling inside, a feeling that was an odd mixture of cold and warmth. It raced through him, stirring something deep within the young man, and made him shiver. He recognised the feeling, knew it very well, as a matter of fact. And the knowledge that the feeling imparted was something that made him devoutly wish that he had his wand with him, rather than having left it up in the dormitory. Well, how was I supposed to know there’d be a damn Portkey in the common room?


The feeling grew stronger, more intense, and Sirius quickened his step without a truly conscious decision to do so. He had grown up around Dark magic, after all, and had a type of intuitive feeling towards it. All witches and wizards – Purebloods, Half-Bloods, and Muggle-Borns – could recognise certain types of magic – the basic recognition being that between the Dark and Light branches, but the longer one’s blood had magic ingrained in it (in other words, the purer one’s bloodline was), the more subtle a recognition or intuition towards a type of magic could be. And the Blacks had an ‘illustrious’ history of dealing with Dark magic, and the more exposure to a certain type of magic that one received, the more … connected, intuitive … towards it they were.


Finally, though, Sirius reached an ending to the corridor. He’d come across the first door in the place, at least, for, towering high in front of him, stood a massive wooden door, its colour light, and shadows were flickering across its surface. Right in front of his hand was the handle – a large silver doorknob that was engraved with a pattern of detailed vines, twirling in spiral formations. The door itself seemed rather plain, though, save for an image located in the very centre of the door … And it was this very image that made a chill run up Sirius's spine.


It was a giant circle, its outside border being formed by a twisting vine whose leaves seemed more like fiery flames than plant leaves. Stretching across the circle diagonally were two wands, crossing in the centre of the circle to form an ‘X’. Also located inside the circle was the image of a sword, running vertically through the centre and connecting with the wands. The sword’s blade pointed upwards, its tip touching the surrounding fiery vine. Finally, there was a serpentine dragon wrapping around the hilt of the sword, and the creature’s tail and head each touched one of the handles of the wands. Located at the top of the circle, running in an arc between the two wand tips, were three words:



Recolitus Optimus: Draco



Sirius had recognised the image upon first seeing it, and the words only confirmed his suspicion. He had first seen the symbol in one of the old books in his father’s library, stumbling across the tome one summer’s day. It had been a book detailing numerous orders and societies of the Wizarding World, both ancient and recent, the oldest going back to a long-forgotten empire in approximately 3600 BC, while the later entries were as recent as being founded in the 1960s. And Sirius clearly remembered this symbol, as it had been located near the centre of the book and had taken two full pages to show.


It was that of the ancient order of Recolitus Optimus, a society that had been founded around the year 1400 BC and carrying into the early 1900s, where it was believed that the members separated and the society was disbanded. Many rumours existed on what had occurred to cause such an ancient society to disappear, but the most prominent had to do with it becoming outlawed as the members grew more violent, exploring and experimenting with magic far more deadly than anything in known existence at the time. Several different branches existed in the order, all named after animals: Lupus, Ursus, Piscis, Noctua, Draco, Canis, and Cervus, (‘Wolf,’ ‘Bear,’ ‘Fish,’ ‘Owl,’ ‘Dragon,’ ‘Dog,’ and ‘Stag.’)


What was more, the Draco branch had suffered a major impact when one of its most prominent members was found guilty for her horrendous crimes in the Great Blood Debates and the orchestration of the Massacre of 1845.


Melinda Maleficent, it had been discovered after her death, had been one of the core and influential members of the Inner Circle of the Recolitus Optimus’s Branch of the Dragon.


And this building – wherever it was – had the society’s symbol.


The sight and recognition of the symbol caused Sirius to want to leave the building even quicker, though it still didn’t help him figure out precisely where he was. It had been believed, after all, that everything to do with Recolitus Optimus had been destroyed years ago, especially the Branch of the Dragon after Maleficent’s actions. However, somehow, this building was still in existence, and its appearance wasn’t completely tarnished – There had to have been some recent habitation or use of the building, and Sirius was not eager to run into the current (if there were any ‘current’) occupants, especially when he was wandless. A chilling, tingling feeling ran through him once again as the Dark magic seemed to swell.


I have to get out, he thought, cautiously reaching forwards and grasping the ornate door handle. His heart racing, he turned the handle … and exhaled a sigh of relief when the heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing a descending stone staircase that led towards what appeared to be outside; (at least, it looked like grass at the bottom of the steps). So, Sirius stepped through the doorway, feeling a rush of warm air hit him as he did so.


Yeah, it’s definitely outside. Once he had taken a few steps forwards, approaching the top stair, he heard a loud BANG come from behind him. Jerking around, Sirius saw the wooden door slam closed of its own accord.


“What the –� he muttered, and he jumped back towards the door, grasping the handle to turn it again.


But the twirling silver handle would not turn; it remained still, as did the door remained steadfastly shut. “All right,� he mumbled. “No going back in there … not that I would really want to.�


Sirius turned away from the door and continued down the stone staircase, finally reaching the bottom. Glancing down, he saw that he stood upon lush grass that felt quite … springy, he supposed. He looked around, hoping to catch some clue to where he might be – some mountain, river, or other natural landscape; some sign or building that gave any sort of information away. But there was nothing except the building at his back (of which he couldn’t enter) and a line of tall trees forming the edges of a forest in front of him.


“Well,� he said, glancing back once more at the wooden door above him, “just go forward, I guess.�


And so Sirius headed towards the trees, having only the light of a half-moon to rely on to help him see. He continued his journey once he reached the forest’s edge, finding a narrow dirt pathway to follow inside that appeared to run straight ahead. Even if the path didn’t run in a mostly straight direction, he was still bound to come across something somewhere at some point.


The forest seemed unnaturally quiet, in Sirius's opinion. It was nothing like the wilderness that surrounded Hogwarts, at least, where noises could always be heard coming from one of the many creatures that inhabited its depths, some as simple and harmless as birds and insects, while others could be as difficult as centaurs or as rare as unicorns … Or even a werewolf, dog, stag, and rat on occasion.


This forest, though, had none of that. One couldn’t even hear a scuttling of a harmless beetle or the hooting of a random owl. Even the ‘normal’ creatures weren’t present here, much less any of the rare and magical ones. It’s far too quiet, Sirius thought to himself. The tingling feeling of cold and warmth that he’d felt because of the Dark magic had dimmed mostly after leaving the building, and it continued to grow fainter the further he walked. But those feelings were being replaced by a heartbeat that was slowly growing quicker and a strong instinct that something wasn’t quite right in the forest. And not for the first time that night did Sirius regret not having his wand.


“From now on, I’m never leaving without it,� he muttered, swearing when a low tree branch scraped the exposed bit of his arm, scratching the skin and drawing a bit of blood. He shoved a few strands of his hair from his eyes, wiping some sweat from his face as he did so. It was quite warm in the forest, and all the walking was becoming exhausting.


“If this continues for too much longer, I’m transforming,� hissed Sirius. But the thought was cut short by the first sound that Sirius had heard since arriving: There was a loud, yet low, rumbling sound, like a massive creature was grunting and groaning or something. A few of the branches in the trees shook with the sudden disturbance. What the hell? thought Sirius, glancing all around him for whatever had made such an unpleasant noise.


But he could see nothing other than the trees that he’d been passing for awhile. A few seconds of silence passed before the grumbles were heard again. Curiosity battled with caution inside Sirius … However, the first won out as he continued on his path, wanting to now know where the noises were coming from. He didn’t have to walk very far to find out.


As he stood under the cover of trees on the opposite edge of the forest, his eyes widened as he caught sight of a trio of boulder- and mountain-like bodies all sitting together only a little ways in front of him. Giants. There just has to be giants here, he thought, barely suppressing his own growl of frustration.


Sirius watched the massive creatures as they sat, a roaring fire in the middle of their group. A few more grunts and grumbles issued from the giants, though none of the creatures moved. One of them gave a loud, rumbling grunt that seemed to shake the ground around them, and a few things flew from its mouth and towards the forest’s edge … towards Sirius. He ducked behind a particularly large tree trunk to avoid being hit by one of the objects, but when it landed on the ground in front of him, he stared at it in horror and disgust.


It was a crushed human skull.


“That isn’t good,� he hissed, and then felt like cursing himself for the stupidity of such a statement. Well, of course it isn’t good, thought Sirius, his eyes catching sight of a few more of the pieces that had flown over from the giant – all of which were bones.


“Damn,� he muttered, glancing back at the giants, one of which who had yanked a nearby tree from the ground and was running its trunk over the yellowing teeth, using it as a combination toothpick or toothbrush, as far as Sirius could tell. He looked to both sides of the group of giants, searching for another way to get from the forest to … well, he didn’t know to where, exactly, but somewhere else. Perhaps the forest would wrap around somewhere? That way he could stay in the cover of the trees.


When he saw, however, that the forest didn’t surround the giant camp, Sirius released the slight growl of frustration that had sought to get out earlier upon first discovering the giants. I have to cross a giants’ camp? And just how the hell is that supposed to happen?


Thoughts and ideas floated through Sirius's mind, but he was quickly disregarding most. One of the first – and the most simplest – to come to mind was Apparition, but the magic from the stone structure of the Branch of the Dragon of Recolitus Optimus still held a power over here; the Dark magic was suppressing any form of Apparition that might take place, as a slight tingling sensation through Sirius's body told him. Most of the other ideas were put down as impossible due to the lack of a wand.


Then it hit him, a solution so obvious that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it in the beginning. Looking towards the camp, Sirius's eyes followed an outer border of the area, seemingly set quite heavily in shadows. Yeah, he thought. This should work.


And, concentrating for the briefest of moments, Sirius transformed into Padfoot and stepped out from the trees’ cover, heading towards the line of shadows.


When he was safely on the opposite end of the giants’ camp – and under the cover of another area of forest, – Sirius left his Animagus form, releasing a sigh of relief as he did so. He looked back at the gathered giants that sat scattered all throughout the rocky clearing; there were far more than the three that he’d seen in the very beginning. Most were sitting like the first trio – around blazing fires and picking at their teeth, having apparently just finished digesting some unfortunate human or something.


But Sirius soon tore his attention from the creatures, knowing that he needed to figure out a) where he was (and he hoped that there was something on this side of the camp that gave him an idea) and b) how he was going to get back to Hogwarts. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling the exhaustion creeping up on him. Now the sleep wants to come? he thought, frustrated. I wouldn’t even be here if I’d been able to sleep! A heavy yawn escaped the seventeen-year-old wizard, as if it wanted to emphasise the irony.


Sirius tried to ignore the exhaustion and the way that his eyes wanted to close shut. Several more yawns left him as he walked through this second set of trees – though it was much smaller than the first – and he soon emerged out of them. Finally, he thought, staring at the wide road in front of him that led to several buildings – a small town – (Next to a giant camp? Odd.) – but it was just what Sirius needed to solve the first part of his problem.


He had only taken one step towards the town when there was a vibrating feeling coming from his pocket. The suddenness of it surprised him at first, and several swear words slipped from his lips as he reached in to retrieve the object – Melinda Maleficent’s card.


The card was still vibrating and shaking heavily as he held it in his hands, but all Sirius could do was stare at it, completely lost. Never before had he come across a Chocolate Frog card that suddenly started shaking randomly. But neither have I ever come across a card whose image smudges, has an ingrained and hidden Portkey, and then instantly returns to normal. Why not add the idea that it vibrates randomly as well? he thought irritably.


And then, just as quickly as the vibrating had started, it ceased; the card of ‘one of the Darkest witches of the nineteenth century’ lay completely still in Sirius's hands. The image of Maleficent, however, had become far clearer than she had looked in the Gryffindor common room. While before she had been eerily hidden in shadows, only about halfway visible, now she appeared fully, and her features seemed to glow in the little light provided at night. Sirius just stared at her gaunt and pale features, her skin stretched tight over her face. Long locks of ebony-coloured hair framed the sides of her face, the strands falling at least to her waist. Her grim smile had an air of aristocracy to it, and her features could definitely be considered to have been thought beautiful at one time – She had the look of someone who, it could have been said, resembled the Roman and Greek statues of the ancient empires, what with her classically carved features and flawless structure. Maleficent’s icy blue eyes met his own piercingly – like she was more than just an image on a card, like Melinda was fully aware and alive somehow and was seeking to connect with him –


No! Sirius's mind rebuked the foolish notion, just as the crazy ideas had been turned away when he thought them in the common room. It wasn’t possible for a card to be ‘alive’; magic might have a lot of different branches, might be able to cause all kinds of things, but this wasn’t one of them. The image on the card was just that – an image, no different than a photograph or generic painting.


But as Sirius watched Melinda Maleficent become clearer, he also saw the other object that she held in front of her. It, too, became more pronounced, until it was located in the very centre of the image, every detail intense in the symbol on the glass. There was the circle made of fiery vines, the crossing wands that were intersected with an upright sword, the twirling dragon and the script-like words …


The symbol of the Branch of the Dragon for Recolitus Optimus.


As Sirius saw the image, a tingling and chilling feeling ran through him, much like the feeling he had when near large amounts of Dark magic … But it wasn’t exactly the same. There was something very slightly different about it, and it was just enough to cause him to reach out to touch the symbol on the card, rather than tossing the thing away from him.


Sirius's finger connected right in the centre of the gleaming symbol, and there was a giant flash of blue light that issued forth from the card, circling all around him. He couldn’t remove his hand from the card; it was held fast, and he suddenly felt like he was falling forwards – like the card was pulling him towards an unknown destination – (not exactly in the same way as a Portkey, but it was close enough).


And in an instant, Sirius Black was gone from the forest’s edge.


“Damn,� he said, almost falling to the ground again as he landed in a dark alley, rows of small shops and other buildings surrounding Sirius on either side. His hand scraped along the wall as he caught himself and, without looking at it again, Sirius shoved the card into his pocket. He was in the process of vowing never to look at the stupid thing again when he took in his surroundings … and a grin worked its way onto his face as he recognised where he was.


The cobblestones under his feet, the narrow streets and towering walls of the buildings, the hanging signs and enticing window displays …


It was Diagon Alley.


Glad that he now knew he was only moments away from finally returning to Hogwarts, Sirius turned down the street to head towards where the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron was located with the sole intention of Flooing into Hogsmeade. But he had barely moved three steps before the voices of several people heading in his direction caused him to stop. He recognised some of them, and the voices did not belong to anyone he particularly wanted to meet in the dark, back areas of Diagon Alley, wandless and exhausted, in the middle of the night … Hell, he didn’t even want to deal with them in broad daylight after sleeping for a full night. Sirius glanced up, caught sight of several figures approaching, and ducked into the nearest shop, silently thanking the universe that the door was unlocked.


Once he was inside, Sirius looked around, curious as to what shop he had managed to enter. As his eyes roamed over the many towering shelves – placed so closely together that it caused the paths between them to be so narrow as to barely fit a single person – and all of the thin boxes that filled the shelves in their customary haphazard manner, Sirius knew. He was in Ollivander’s.


You would think a wand maker wouldn’t leave wands in an unlocked shop, Sirius thought to himself, creeping cautiously and quietly across the shop and towards the front door. A light layer of dust had started to settle on the numerous boxes of wands, evidently because they probably weren’t disturbed too often during the school terms themselves.


Sirius eventually reached the front of the shop (and had surprisingly not been caught by Mr Ollivander. He didn’t have the slightest idea what he would have told the older wizard if he had been, after all.) He had his hand on the doorknob to the shop’s main door, ready to exit and go back to Hogwarts, when something on a nearby shelf caught his eye. Curious, Sirius walked to the main window, next to which was the shelf in question.


Located on the simple wooden structure were four, nearly identical items – Chocolate Frog cards. Sirius glared at them, almost as if he wanted to set them on fire with his stare. After all, it had been a stupid Chocolate Frog card that had started everything he’d gone through that night. He was about to turn away from them and back to the door when the card on the far right caught his attention. For the briefest of moments, he could have sworn that the edges of the card actually glowed … as in, a thin bit of light rose from the card and into the air, before disappearing so suddenly that Sirius wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or not. Whether or not he had, the young man still felt curious and, once again ignoring the voice in his head that said not to touch the card, Sirius picked it up, holding it around the edges so as not to touch the image itself. (Well, so he mostly ignored the voice of caution.)


The witch on the card shared a striking resemblance to Melinda Maleficent. She had long locks of black hair that fell in waves down her back, though her hair didn’t have the straggly and unhealthy look that Melinda’s had had. Her face had more colour to it, and her smile, rather than being grim and … well, dark … could be considered warm and welcoming, knowledgeable and understanding, almost. While Maleficent had appeared to have lost her beauty, this witch had retained it, her face almost glowing with youth. Sirius did not even have to read the name or information on the back of the card to know who the witch was, as portraits of her littered the walls of Hogwarts.


Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the legendary Founders of the school, stared out at him from the card’s depths, her light blue eyes swirling with wisdom. In her hands, she held a single object – a wand, its wood almost white in colour, with words and runes etched into its surface. The wand looked vaguely familiar to Sirius as he stared at it, entranced, and it only took a few moments for him to remember where he’d seen something like it before. But whether it was the same or not …


Sirius glanced towards the front window that always held the same display for the old wand shop – a singular wand holding a place of honour, almost, on a plush purple pillow. When he had first visited Diagon Alley years ago with his family, that particular wand had caught his eye. There had just appeared to be something about it, he thought, that made it different from other wands … like it held something more than any of the other wands in the shop (or any of the others that had been in the shop).


But when he looked at the window, he didn’t see the display. The entire window shelf was bare, save for an empty wand box and some torn paper. There was no sight of the purple pillow or the wand that sat atop it. That’s weird, he thought. After all, that single wand had always appeared like it’d been on the shelf since the beginning of Ollivander’s, and it just seemed like it would have always been there.


Sirius's thoughts were torn from the wand, however, when the card in his hand started to grow warm, sending a tingling feeling into his hand that raced up his arm as it did so. Not again, he thought, and he went to toss the card of Ravenclaw away … But it wouldn’t let him.


He couldn’t separate his hand from the card, and even as he watched it, feeling the power racing up his arm grow with each passing second, he saw the image start to move. It acted in a similar manner to how Maleficent’s had behaved as it struggled to become clearer. Except, that wasn’t exactly the same thing that was happening now.


Rowena Ravenclaw was waving the wand in her hand, her lips moving quickly as if chanting. Letters began to appear around the edges of her image, twisting and twirling over one another, scrambling themselves up. A thin mist seemed to swirl around Ravenclaw and the letters, and all Sirius could do was watch, transfixed, as the letters stopped moving, forming three separate words:



Recolitus Optimus: Noctua



Slowly, another symbol appeared to join Rowena on her card. Coming to rest in the very centre of the image was a detailed symbol almost exactly like that of the Branch of the Dragon, save for a few changes: There was no dragon here, but rather a pair of owls standing on each side of the sword’s blade, their eyes staring outwards, directly at Sirius, and the words that had arced along the top for the symbol of the Branch of the Dragon now arced along the bottom of the circle, ‘Recolitus Optimus’ on the left side of the sword’s hilt and ‘Noctua’ on the right.


It was the symbol for the Branch of the Owl.

~**~


Recolitus Optimus


By megan_lupin


~**~


Part II: Dark Witches and Prophecies


~**~


Sirius simply stared at the detailed and vivid symbol on the card, his mind struggling to grasp exactly what he was seeing. It didn’t seem possible for it to be true; history had recorded everything about the Four Founders of Hogwarts, and surely any mention of Recolitus Optimus would have been made somewhere. Not even the most liberal histories or wildest rumours and legends of Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw even hinted at involvement with any orders or societies, much less one as well known as that of Recolitus Optimus.


But even as he watched the card, the thoughts crept into his mind. If Rowena Ravenclaw had had some involvement with that particular society, then the Branch of the Owl would have been the likeliest aspect for the witch’s wisdom. His own knowledge of the Founders wasn’t exactly plentiful, and he could only recall coming across information concerning Recolitus Optimus once in his life – that book he had read so long ago. And although years had passed since that day, Sirius found that he could recall it now quite clearly.


Sun had been streaming in through the open library windows, and the house had been empty, he remembered. The silver text imprinted on the black leather spine had caught his eye as he scanned the library’s shelves, and, curious, he’d opened it in the very middle of the book – right to the pages about Recolitus Optimus. And now, he found himself recalling the words almost as if he had the heavy leather tome still sitting in front of him:



… Recolitus Optimus was among the first society to have been recorded to base their power on numbers, (though there were several other factors included in the dividing of the order as well). Numbers, however, were the main source behind the society.


Long believed to be the most powerful number in magic – both Light and Dark – the number of seven was the sole deciding factor in the organising of Recolitus Optimus, as that remains to be the only reason why there are no more or less than seven branches, all named after particular animals.


Lupus (Wolf), Ursus (Bear), Piscis (Fish), Noctua (Owl), Draco (Dragon), Canis (Dog), and Cervus (Stag) – the seven branches of Recolitus Optimus – have been a part of the society since shortly after its founding in approximately 1400 BC. However, although many legends and tales exist as to how the branches were named, nothing has been confirmed.


The most prominent – and likely plausible – theory has to do with the original leaders of each branch’s Inner Circle. For, while magic has always been tied closely to animals and creatures – both magical and non-magical – few societies and orders have been known to name every branch after a familiar animal, nor have reason behind its choosing.


With Recolitus Optimus, the branches were founded due to their purpose and other defining characteristics, and named after an animal symbolising such aspects:


Lupus, the Wolf, is ‘Mystery’; Ursus, the Bear, is ‘Strength’; Piscis, the Fish, is ‘Faith’; Noctua, the Owl, is ‘Wisdom’; Draco, the Dragon, is ‘Power’; Canis, the Dog, is ‘Loyalty’; and Cervus, the Stag, is ‘Leadership’, (though in some versions of the tale, the Stag is not ‘Leadership’, but rather, that of ‘Guidance’). Although very little proven information exists for non-members of the order as to what the precise functions of each branch were, their founding characteristic is enough to grant scholars a decent idea.


According to most learned witches and wizards, most notably that of Professor Samuel Hanley, Cervus, Draco, and Noctua – the Stag, the Dragon, and the Owl – are believed to have been the core and central leading branches of the society, due mostly to interpretation of their characteristics of Leadership, Power, and Wisdom respectfully. “It seems apparent that such symbolism had a purpose,� wrote Hanley, “and a ruling of three would have been common for societies during the time of the core founding of Recolitus Optimus.�


Professor Hanley also noted that Ursus – the Bear – was most likely the home of the guardians, or warriors, of the society’s members. “‘Strength,’ seems to suggest a physical nature of guardianship or protection,� he wrote.


Things become a bit more difficult with the other branches, as their qualities are not as definite as the others. The Branch of the Fish – Piscis – whose characteristic was Faith – was most likely connected to teaching, while Canis – the Dog – was probably charged with the secrets of the society, (“much like a Secret-Keeper in the working of the Fidelius Charm,� added Hanley, as way of further explanation), as its characteristic was Loyalty. “Canis probably held the most power after the ruling triumvirate,� noted Hanley, “followed by Ursus and Piscis.�


The final branch, that of Lupus – the Wolf – remains the hardest to understand. Its defining characteristic being Mystery, not much is known about the Branch of the Wolf, neither in historical accounts or far-fetched legends. “It is possible that Lupus also held certain secrets of Recolitus Optimus, after or different from those held by Canis,� Hanley wrote in his book, Magic in the Ancient Years: An Intense Study of Communities and Secrets That Survive Today.



Sirius tore his mind back to the present, though his gaze was still focussed on the card. Ravenclaw was no longer moving – She was so still that she even appeared like a Muggle photograph – but the symbol of the Branch of the Owl remained in the very centre, vivid and detailed. He realised, suddenly, that his finger was hovering right next to the symbol, ready to touch it; but he could not even remember bringing his finger from the card’s edges. No, he thought to himself, pulling away from the symbol. Forget it. And he stuffed the card in his pocket, letting it join the one of Melinda Maleficent.


Once he’d put the card away, Sirius left Ollivander’s, striding straight down the main cobblestone street of Diagon Alley in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. He would enter the building and go immediately to the Floo-connected fireplace. A heavy yawn escaped him when he was only inches from leaving Diagon Alley, and the cracking sound of someone Disapparating reached his ears.


Now, why didn’t I think of that before? he thought, but then decided that it was because he was now so tired that his brain wasn’t thinking straight. There wasn’t a need to Floo into Hogsmeade when he could Apparate right outside the school’s gates, after all. So with that, he changed direction, turning around the corner to the main Apparition points. Letting out another yawn, Sirius thought of Hogwarts, and Disapparated.


Arriving almost instantly outside the school, Sirius was met with towering iron gates, the statues of two winged boars on either side. He glanced around for a moment to ensure the coast was clear and transformed into Padfoot for the second time that night. (He had no idea what time it was and really wasn’t in the mood to try and explain to anyone why he was wandering into the school in a ragged T-shirt and trousers in the middle of the night/early morning.) It was just easier to sneak in as a dog.


But Sirius didn’t get too far past the gates – which had, fortunately, been open – before his attention was diverted from the school’s front doors. He thought he had seen movement over on the west side of the castle, and for some reason, he didn’t think it had been an animal. A lone light from one of the upper towers shone down on the grounds, providing more light than just what the moon and stars had to offer, and a shadow had been cast upon the castle’s stone wall, flickering as the figure had moved. At least, Sirius thought he had seen someone.


A quick look, he thought, heading off to the west side of the school, where the lighted tower was. One look, and then into the school … just to be sure. But when he arrived under the tower, standing right where the shadow had been, there was nothing – no one was there, and there was no sign or clue that anyone had been there. You need sleep, Padfoot, he thought, turning away from the wall.


But then, he felt an icy cold run through his leg and travel over his body. Sirius yelped in surprise. A tingling feeling soon followed, and then another burst of cold. Instantly, he had transformed back and was reaching inside his pocket to pull out the card that was sending the gripping cold through him.


In his palm was the card of Rowena Ravenclaw, the symbol of the Branch of the Owl glowing brightly – and this time, it actually was glowing. The lines in the symbol all shone with a white light, as if they were cut out and sunlight was shining straight through the gaps. Even the words wrapped around the edges of the image were lit up, and the feeling of ice travelling all over him ran through Sirius again, from his hand, up through his arm, and then to the rest of his body.


“What now?� he hissed, the frustration and exhaustion evident in his voice as he spoke, his tired eyes focussed on the card. Rowena’s own eyes stared right back at him, and it was as if she was trying to speak to him.


“If you think I’m touching that thing again, you’re mad,� he muttered, but paused in his tirade. I’m telling a card it’s mad? I’m talking to a painted image on a card, and the card is the one that’s mad? He shook his head to try and clear it – trying to ignore the waves of cold that ran through him repeatedly as well – but as he did so, his eyes caught sight of something engraved on the wall, something he had never seen at the school before. He turned back to look more closely.


Located level with his eyes was a very faint image, only about the size of a normal human hand. It was imprinted into the stone block, and some of its detail appeared to have eroded away over the years. Yet it still looked to be almost part of the stone wall, like it had been there since the very beginning of the castle, of Hogwarts. And while Sirius had never seen the image in Hogwarts, he had seen it before – and he’d even seen it tonight; an image of the symbol was in his hand, as a matter of fact.


For, located right on the walls of Hogwarts, was an engraved image of the Branch of the Owl of Recolitus Optimus. And it, too, was acting like its copy on the Chocolate Frog card and starting to glow. The fiery vines were filled with a gleaming white light, as were the owls, wands, and sword. The words, however, had a blue haze shimmering around them.


Before Sirius had realised it, he found that he had brought his free hand – the one not holding the still-freezing card – up to hover centimetres from the symbol on the stone. Noticing this, he jerked it away. There is no way I’m touching that, he thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to remove his hand completely; it still hovered over the image – just further away than it had been earlier.


Sirius looked back at the card in his hand, seeing instantly that the light had increased; it was so bright he had to squint when he looked at the card. As the light increased, so did the cold that continued rushing up his arm but, like in the wand shop, he found that he couldn’t toss the card away. His eyes met those of Ravenclaw’s, and for the briefest of moments, Sirius could have sworn that he saw her nod towards the symbol on the stone wall. He looked back and saw something that, while in the dark hadn’t been visible, but due to the increased light coming from both the card and the engraving, could now be clearly seen.


Below the imprinted symbol on the stone wall, there was an indention. It was very faint and shallow, and could easily be mistaken for erosion on the structure. But Sirius knew better. He knew that it had been placed there at the same time that the symbol was placed.


It was in the shape of a square, with its four equal sides, though it was turned slightly to make it resemble a diamond. The indention wasn’t very large, either; it was only around the size of a human’s palm … and a perfect fit for the card that he held in his other hand.


Sirius looked from the indention to the card and back again. It didn’t make a lot of sense, if one thought about it all logically. After all, the castle had been here for a thousand years, and this symbol and indention looked like it had been here just as long, but Chocolate Frog cards weren’t nearly that old. (Yes, they’d been around for quite some time, but nowhere near a millennium.)


“And yet,� he muttered, still staring at the card and the indention. Different thoughts raged through the young man’s mind, some good, some bad, and some just so crazy that they could only have been brought on by his growing exhaustion. There was a part of him that, like the other times throughout the night, screamed caution. “Don’t try it … It’s foolish … You don’t know what it’ll do …� But there was the whole other side of the argument, increased by the rampant curiosity that pumped through his veins … and the idea of finding someplace in the school that he and the other Marauders hadn’t discovered yet.


And just like the other times that night, Sirius gave into the curiosity, placing the freezing card of Rowena Ravenclaw into the indention.


Instantly, the glowing light disappeared, plunging Sirius and the rest of the grounds into the darkness of night that was only pierced by nature’s moon and stars. For a moment, nothing else happened, and Sirius was just about to turn back towards the castle doors, slight disappoint replacing the curiosity of earlier, when a sound reached his ears.


It sounded like there were locks that were being opened; there was a clicking noise that seemed to be coming from inside the wall. Sirius stared at the stone in front of him, watching as several of the blocks folded in on each other before tumbling to the ground. He jumped back to avoid the few that threatened to land on him. But after barely a minute, the stones stopped moving, the noises ceased, and everything was still.


Sirius glared at the opening in front of him that had been made by the moving stones. It wasn’t a very large hole, but big enough for an average-sized person to climb through. He couldn’t see anything beyond the gap, however. The light from the moon didn’t penetrate that far, and the tunnel – It looks like a tunnel, anyway – was cloaked in a heavy, black darkness.


“Why not?� he said as he placed his hands on the ledge and pulled himself up and through the gap. He landed in a crouch on the dirt floor below, and as he stood up, he stared around the tunnel.


It was much larger than it had appeared to be, especially considering the tiny entrance hole. Sirius had expected that it would be low and narrow, but he couldn’t have been more mistaken. The tunnel was wide enough to fit at least five people standing side by side, and it towered several metres above him – a low ceiling was definitely not a problem. As he took another step forwards, light flared from a set of torches on the walls, their flames sending flickering shadows to the ground, as well as revealing another set of torches located a little further down the path. The end, however, was still cloaked in shadow.


A burning sense of curiosity and adventure flowed through Sirius, pushing down the exhaustion that sought to overcome him. His eyes were no longer drooping, and he hadn’t yawned in nearly an hour. This tunnel was an unknown quality, a place that no one had been through in quite a long time – judging from the appearance of both the entrance and the tunnel itself. Even in all of the wandering they had done while at school, this tunnel was not even known to the Marauders … At least, until now.


Grinning, Sirius walked forwards, travelling further down the dirt path.


At least an hour had passed, and the sense of curiosity and adventure that had run through Sirius's veins had dwindled, becoming almost non-existent as the time continued ticking by. The long, massive tunnel had not even changed direction once, leaving Sirius with only a straight and boring path to follow, the tarnished torches hissing repeatedly into life as he approached a new set with every step.


This is ridiculous, he thought to himself, once again losing the battle to suppress another heavy, lengthy yawn. He had even tried journeying as Padfoot for awhile, in the hope that he might have more energy than he did while in human form. Needless to say, it didn’t work out. He was just as exhausted walking as a large black dog as he was while travelling as a seventeen-year-old wizard.


Another yawn tore from his mouth, and Sirius leaned back against the dirt wall for some support. Ever so slowly, the young man slumped down the wall, landing sitting upon the ancient floor, flickering firelight from the tarnished torches casting thin shadows over the area. The floor was, surprisingly, quite comfortable, considering it was strictly dirt, its brown colour matching the walls perfectly. As a matter of fact, it didn’t really feel like a hard dirt floor to Sirius, and as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, high levels of sleep battling down his will to stay awake, the floor became less and less like dirt and more and more like soft mattresses and thick blankets.


It would only be for a moment’s rest, he thought, slipping further and further to his side as he started to lie down on the floor. Just a brief rest, that’s all, before going on …


And as the third yawn in just a couple minutes escaped the young man, Sirius lost his battle with consciousness and drifted off to sleep.


He never knew how many times he awoke, only to be conscious for a brief moment before slipping back off into sleep. The first time, Sirius remembered, he had been torn from unconsciousness by a freezing cold that raced up and down his body, causing him to shiver and wake up suddenly. He lay on the floor shaking for some time, his body feeling the coldness travel through it over and over again, his teeth chattering. Sirius could even see his breath when he opened his eyes. (At least, he thought he was able to see his breath … But then again, he wasn’t exactly thinking completely straight at the time.)


Almost as soon as the coldness had come and torn Sirius from his sleep, however, it had all but disappeared, to be replaced by a calming, welcoming warm feeling that enveloped him lovingly, kindly, and before he realised it, Sirius had drifted back into his world of dreams.


Sirius woke up several more times through his slumber, though he didn’t recall any of them as vividly as the first time, what with its icy blasts of cold and welcoming warm touches at the end. He did, however, remember most of his dreams … Not that they made a great deal of sense to him, either.


The first few had been normal, in the grand scheme of things. They had not been ‘dreams,’ as much as they had been memories, but after several years of dealing with his past, Sirius was almost immune to the thoughts’ effects. Flashes of past arguments with his family did not cause him to awake in the middle of the night, unable to fall back to sleep for hours – if at all – like they had in the first few years. He no longer awoke in a cold sweat, struggling to control his breathing, when the images were particularly vivid. It had been almost a year since he’d had a sleepless night due to his memories … or nightmares … or even his dreams, in some cases.


But his dreams tonight weren’t exactly the same, Sirius knew. The images that flashed through his mind, each thought seeking dominance among the others, were still the same, yes, but there were flashes of something else as well. His family weren’t the only people in his dreams this time, though he did recognise the other woman. He had seen her long, straggly black hair before as it fell like a curtain around her pale, gaunt face, the straight locks of hair falling down her thin back to her waist. Sirius had stared into her fathomless blue eyes as they burned out at him, linking up with him, connecting with something that was inside of him. Her face, holding absolutely no expression on it, still seemed alive, however, just as it had when it glared out from an image on a card that very night. Melinda Maleficent stalked through the multiple images of Sirius's dreams, her lips moving as if chanting. Words echoed through the flashes of images, seemingly not connected to his normal nightmares at all.



“A bond between four
That none could destroy:
Leadership, Loyalty, Betrayal, Mystery.
Unknown, such unity ever was.
Yet fall, they will.
Suspicion and mistrust will descend on Mystery,
Though Betrayal will remain.
Leadership will fall to Betrayal,
As Loyalty will also be wounded by it.
Darkness will rise and grow.
The unbreakable bond
Will shatter.�



But the words weren’t just spoken once. No, whenever Maleficent finished the prophecy – For what else could it be but a prophecy of some kind? – the Dark witch would pause for the briefest of moments before repeating it once again.


Sirius returned to consciousness again and again, his mind eventually losing track of not only how many times he had drifted in and out, but also when he was awake and when he wasn’t. Maleficent never seemed to disappear from his vision, though the images from his dreams would fade during the moments that he was conscious. The Dark witch, however, was always there it seemed, staring intently at him, her cold, blue depths connecting solidly with his own steel gaze as her lips moved with the speaking of the prophetic words.



“A bond between four
That none could destroy.�



Wake up, Sirius, the young man thought to himself as he struggled to pull himself away from sleep … or whatever it was that held him. But while the images of his dreams faded, Maleficent still remained as clear and solid as ever.



“As Loyalty will also be wounded by it.
Darkness will grow.
The unbreakable bond
Will shatter.�



And as Sirius came to the abrupt realisation that he was, indeed, fully awake and conscious, and that Melinda was still standing only a few feet in front of him, the young man pushed himself further against the wall, scrambling back and to his feet as he struggled to get up and away from the Dark witch. She did not, however, take any notice of him.



“Suspicion and mistrust will descend on Mystery,
Though Betrayal will remain.
Leadership will fall to Betrayal,
As Loyalty will also be wounded by it.�



“What do you want?� asked Sirius, speaking for the first time to the figure of Melinda.


Her only response, though, was to continue repeating the prophecy in her monotone voice.



“Darkness will grow.
The unbreakable bond
Will shatter.�



On instinct, Sirius reached into his pocket, withdrawing Melinda’s card. Glancing at it, he saw that her image was blank except for the picture of the symbol of the Branch of the Dragon. He looked from the card to the figure of Maleficent in front of him and back again, trying to get his exhausted mind to understand the entire situation. It wouldn’t. It just was not possible for a Chocolate Frog card image to appear, life-size, out of the card.


“I said, what do you want?� he said, but Maleficent just kept repeating her prophecy. “What is that supposed to mean, anyway?� Sirius exclaimed, any shred of patience he had still retained after the draining night finally leaving the young man. As he spoke, Sirius had hurled the card at the figure, only to watch as it sailed right through her chest and connected with the dirt wall behind her.


The action did, on the other hand, have the effect of getting the witch’s attention, though as she stopped speaking and glared directly at Sirius, he felt like he wasn’t quite sure if that was something that he had really wanted to do. His anxiety increased when the Dark witch withdrew a wand from her robes, and as she pointed its tip directly at his chest, Sirius desperately missed the cool, ebony-coloured wood of his own wand.


Now what, Padfoot? he thought to himself, eyeing the wand warily. But Melinda Maleficent never uttered any spell, nor did she start repeating the prophecy again. Rather, she slowly lowered the wooden wand from Sirius's chest, bringing its point facing the ground.


A great sigh of relief had barely escaped Sirius's mouth before the entire tunnel was encompassed by a sudden flash of blindingly white light. He hurriedly brought an arm to his eyes, squeezing them shut in an effort to block out the light. The action didn’t help much, as the intensity of it was so great, but like the coldness with the card earlier in his sleep, the white light left just as suddenly as it had come.


When Sirius thought it was safe to open his eyes again, he lowered his arm and did so. The tunnel had returned to its normal lighting level, with just the few flickering flames of fire shining from the scattered torches providing the only light. But while the light had disappeared – as well as Melinda, for that matter, but Sirius wasn’t too concerned with where the witch had gone – something else had appeared in the tunnel, and it stood only a few metres away from Sirius.


Looking to his left, Sirius caught sight of a large stone table – or an altar, more like, -- that stretched almost the entire width of the dark, dirt tunnel. The stone top of the altar was dirty and chipped, its appearance making one think that it had been down here for centuries. And like everything else tonight, it probably is centuries old, thought Sirius, stepping forwards to approach the stone structure. It wasn’t until he was nearly touching it that he noticed there was an object sitting on the table.


A heavy leather book was in the very centre of the altar, shadows from the torches casting over its blood-red cover. No script that could be considered a title of any sort could be seen, as far as Sirius could tell. There were some odd markings, but they didn’t seem quite like runes or titles as they did some weird sort of decoration.


For the first time that night, Sirius did not allow his curiosity to overpower him and make him touch the book. Warnings were going off in his mind worse than ever, and Sirius was too exhausted to argue with them, if he was honest with himself. And as much as he wanted to know what precisely was in that book, he listed to the cautious voice in his head.


But in this instance, it didn’t seem to matter that he hadn’t touched the book. The book, apparently, was intent on being looked at. As Sirius started to turn away from the altar with the intention of leaving the tunnel, the large tome seemed to open of its own accord, the pages rustling in an imaginary wind as it flipped all the way towards the ending of the book, to a page very near the conclusion.


“Forget it,� muttered Sirius, turning his head away from the book for the second time … before he brought it suddenly back as an image on the left-hand page had caught his eye.


It was another symbol for Recolitus Optimus … At least, that was what Sirius thought it was. He had never seen this particular image before; the book in his father’s library had included the different symbols for the seven branches of the society, but this image hadn’t been included. Yet, it was so much like the others that there just had to be a connection, Sirius knew.


Fiery vines created the outer circle of the symbol, and there were the same crossing wands and intersecting sword. The animal, however, was not one of the seven – Wolf, Dog, Stag, Dragon, Owl, Bear, and Fish – but rather, it was a small rodent, and looked remarkably like a rat or a mouse, if Sirius had to guess. It was located to the right of the sword, with three words located to the sword’s other side:



Recolitus Optimus: Mus



“Well, that answers the question of the animal’s identity,� muttered Sirius, a fourth yawn escaping the young wizard as his gaze drifted from the image to the bit of text on the next page.



The Branch of the Rat


Long rumoured in legend is this mysterious eighth branch of Recolitus Optimus, though almost no evidence exists to confirm or deny the branch’s reality. Many scholars argue that it is based in nothing but fanciful tall tales, ‘containing no truth at all’.


But what do the legends say concerning this unknown and possibly false branch of the ancient historical society?


According to legend, the Branch of the Rat (‘Mus’) was founded around the early 1500s AD, though it was unable to survive past its founding year, and should, in reality, not have been developed at all. For, unlike the other seven – and core – branches of Recolitus Optimus, the Branch of the Rat was made up of members of several of the other branches, and was intended as a form of rebellion and betrayal.


It is unknown what, precisely, caused members of the society to form this branch of betrayal. This aspect of founding in betrayal became the reason for the branch choosing the rat as its symbol, for the rat has been a creature linked with that of betrayal for years. It is believed that the members who had united to form the Branch of the Rat chose the animal in a sense of irony, as they were, in essence, “betraying the Order of Recolitus Optimus�.


The legend of such a branch, however, becomes even hazier on how, precisely, it ceased to exist – if it ever did exist. Many different tales abound as to what happened, the most prominent of which being that there was an assassination attempt on the leading triumvirate – Most claim that it was the leader of Cervus, the Stag, that was targeted, though like with the other legends, there are also many variations with this part of the story as well – that had been orchestrated by the Branch of the Rat.


Regardless, the fact remains that the existence of such a branch has always been unproven, and in all likelihood, the Branch of the Rat never did exist. Assassination attempts on members of the society, especially those of a branch’s Inner Circle, have been scattered throughout history, both coming from within and outside of the order itself.



Sirius looked back over at the image after he had finished reading the text. As he stared at it, Melinda Maleficent’s prophecy floated through his mind. It had talked of betrayal, of an unbroken bond that darkness would shatter. And it seemed that such a thing just very well could have happened in Recolitus Optimus, if there was truth in this eighth branch existing in the society.


But even as he thought about it, there was something in Sirius's mind that told him that was not completely correct. There was just something about Melinda’s words that spoke of future events, but if it had been referring to the Branch of the Rat, those events would have happened in Maleficent’s past. It just felt to the young wizard like he was missing something.


And he still couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that Melinda Maleficent’s eyes had given him. Those blue orbs had seemed to glare right into his very soul, searching and seeking to connect with him. Just the thought of it made a shiver race the length of Sirius's spine as he stepped further away from the book. Once again that night, he told himself that it wasn’t possible.


“Maleficent is dead,� he muttered, turning his gaze from the book and the altar and heading further down the tunnel. Now, he was determined to get out of the dark underground path. A sense of curiosity and adventure could no longer hold him there – His exhaustion was too great, and it wasn’t as enjoyable exploring this place alone. He would come back later with the others – after sleeping for three days straight, that is.


As Sirius turned the corner, he didn’t even noticed the discarded Chocolate Frog card of Melinda Maleficent began to glow and rise off of the ground, disappearing suddenly in a puff of smoke.


Twenty minutes, numerous turns, and uncountable yawns and curses later, Sirius finally arrived inside the school. A smile splitting his face for the briefest of moments before another yawn interrupted it, the teen glanced around at the large tapestry to his left, recognising it immediately. Somehow, he must have travelled upwards, because he was in a little-used corridor on the sixth floor. And that meant that the Gryffindor common room – and his dormitory with its perfect and very enticing bed – was only one floor above him.


Hurrying up the sole flight of stairs that led to the seventh floor and Gryffindor Tower, Sirius passed a couple windows, a thin ray of sunlight starting to shine through the glass panes. Apparently, more time had passed than I thought. Morning was fast approaching, and regardless of the fact that it was Sunday, he knew there would be students heading towards an early breakfast soon.


But breakfast was the farthest thing from Sirius's mind as he muttered the password to the Fat Lady and entered the red-and-gold clad common room of Gryffindor House. He didn’t spare a glance at the small group of third-year girls sitting at one of the tables, muttering as they finished up an assignment. He didn’t turn around as he heard someone call his name, but rather just kept walking.


It wasn’t until he had collapsed on his bed that he made a noise at all.


A great sigh of relief, relaxation, and welcomed comfort escaped him, but he was mistaken when he thought everyone else was still asleep.


“Where have you been all night, Padfoot?�


Sirius turned his head in the direction of the voice, sparing his best friend a quick glance before slamming his eyes shut again in exhaustion and muttering a quick answer to James’s question.


“You have no idea,� he said. “None at all.�


~**~


Author’s Note: And that’s the end of the story. I hope you all enjoyed reading Recolitus Optimus as much as I enjoyed writing it, and don’t hesitate to let me know what you thought.


~Megan