The cloaked figure standing on the corner of the side street didn’t seem concerned with the weather. He stared at the poster adorning the wall in front of him, the white sash stuck diagonally over his picture that proclaimed the event ‘Sold Out’, and shrugged. If people stayed away because of the weather, he’d still get his money. In fact, it could be good to have a quiet night. That way he could piss back to the Hag’s Rest and drink his share of the profits.
A loud crack, like a car backfiring, rent the air and a Muggle scurrying past almost let go of her umbrella in surprise when a figure stumbled in front of her. She shrieked, then tutted loudly, obviously deciding the dishevelled man in the gutter was a drunk and not worthy of her sympathy.
–Late again, ‘Dung,†called the cloaked man. He hurried over, helping Mundungus Fletcher up from the pavement and muttered, –I hope you’ve got the right info this time. Last week was a bloody shambles!â€
–Keep yer ‘air on, Tie,†Mundungus replied and held out a wad of papers. –It’s all ‘ere, death records, disputed wills - all the local scandal.â€
‘Tie’ looked slightly happier. Taking the package from Mundungus, he scanned the information, his eyes flicking from left to right. Despite his earlier wish to skedaddle to the pub, he felt a surge of excitement as he read through the notes. The con was well and truly on.
–Nice one, ‘Dung. Lots of useful stuff here.†Then as the wind ruffled the pages, he tucked them under his cloak and started to walk towards the hall. –Just hope the crowds come tonight.â€
–Relax, mate,†said Mundungus. –It’s Halloween and Muggles love talking to the dead on Halloween.â€
At six-thirty pm, the doors to the village hall opened. As Mundungus had predicted, the Muggles came in their droves, shaking out sodden umbrellas and wiping their feet on the large bristle doormats as they sheltered from the storm.
–I’ve heard he’s the real thing,†said a young woman. –Tiresias Trelawney can really communicate with the dead.â€
Her taller friend, who was peering through the dim light of the hall to find a couple of seats, not too near the front, gave a snort. –The trouble with you, Vonnie,†she said scornfully, –is that you believe in anything, don’t you?â€
–My cousin, Sharon, her that lives in Dorset, saw him last month and she said he knew things, you know. He knew things!†she exclaimed, her eyes widening in reverential awe.
–Like what?â€
–Nicknames and family secrets,†Vonnie replied haughtily, and pursing her lips said no more.
In silence, they sat down in the third row by the middle aisle. Vonnie opened a paper bag filled with butterscotch, which they both began to suck noisily whilst they waited for the show to begin.
At seven o’clock precisely, Mundungus switched off the lights. Using his wand, he created smoke and eerie sound effects. There was a sudden crack and a white light as Tiresias Apparated to the centre of the stage, to the intense delight of his audience, who knew it had to be a trick, but couldn’t help hoping it was magic.
–Welcome!†he boomed. –I am the Tiresias the Great, Master of the Inner Eye, your portal between this world and the next!â€
He sounded impressive. And as he raised his arms, imploring the spirits from the other side to breach the thin veil between the worlds, he looked impressive, too, his dark green and silver robes catching the strobe light that Mundungus had finally worked out how to use.
(–It’s just like magic, Tie.â€)
Vonnie stopped sucking her butterscotch, letting it dissolve on her tongue, but her friend - despite being mildly interested - crunched hers noisily and then reached for another, rustling the wrapper ostentatiously. Tiresias frowned at her, feeling his earlier gloom return. He was tired of all this. He was tired of conning Muggles and tired of their wretched attempts to communicate with the ‘dearly departed’. These days it was never about comfort; it was always about money, a mislaid will or a lost jewel, and it bored him.
Why the hell couldn’t I have landed a cushy job at Hogwarts? He gritted his teeth as he imagined his sister no doubt enjoying a Halloween feast. Let me get through tonight then we’ll give next week a miss, he decided.
Now what had been in those notes of ‘Dung’s? Edward, yes, four Edwards had died recently. It was as good a place as any to start.
–I have an Edward,†he boomed, clutching one hand to his forehead. He heard several gasps, and tried to focus in on one. –Except ... he says he was known as Ted ...†Silence. –No, no, sorry, the ether makes it difficult to hear. It is Ned ...†A small muffled cry. –Yes, definitely Ned.†He injected a small note of pathos into his voice. –Does that mean anything to anyone here? Only Ned has a message that he’s desperate to deliver, and cannot rest until he has.â€
–Me, it’s me!†squeaked a woman in the front row.
Tiresias studied her hands. Wedding ring, slightly loose. Wearing a hat and neat clothes - also loose. No make-up, except a sliver of lipstick. A widow, he concluded, and recent too. He smiled at her. –Ned says he loves you, and always will, but says you must look forward and not dwell in the past.â€
–But, I need him,†she sobbed.
Patting her on the shoulder, Tiresias spoke, seemingly intimately, but with a voice magnifying spell, he ensured the rest of the room could hear him. –Ned says you should view your life together as a book. A much-cherished book, which gave you both great pleasure, but now must be put away. In time, perhaps, you can take down the book and read of cherish -†Damn, he’d already used cherished. – - beloved memories, enjoying the chapters of your li-â€
–No, no,†the woman sobbed, her burgundy hat coming askew. –I can’t find the savings book and without that the building society say I can’t get the money out until probate’s been completed. Oh Neddy, where did you put it!â€
Tiresias heard a snort from the back of the room and glowered at the skulking man he knew was Mundungus. –In the biscuit tin!†he snapped.
–Ohh, really?†the woman perked up. –Which one?â€
Merlin, how many tins for biscuits did this wretched Muggle own? –The ... um ... Oh... he’s fading ... fading ... I can picture a round tin ... red and blue, perhaps? It’s very hard to see...â€
–OOOH! Must be my coronation tin!†She sounded happy, gleeful even, and with a huge smile on her face, settled back in her seat. –Thank you, Neddy!â€
Trying not to scowl at her, Tiresias moved back to the stage. He touched his fingers to his brow, massaging his temples. It was a normal part of his routine, but this time he did feel the beginnings of a headache creeping over one eye, and pressed his thumb firmly into the eye socket, trying to assuage the pain.
–I have another Edwa-†Tiresias stopped. The headache had intensified ... a searing stab rippling through his skull, rendering him dumb. A coldness crept through him, pervading all his senses, until only his sight could function. There was a roaring in his ears, a yell, a desperate scream, and then a shriek tearing through his mind. His legs numb, he collapsed to his knees.
Mundungus jerked his head up. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. –For the love of Merlin, what’s ‘e up to?†he whispered under his breath. He whipped around the side, ready to leave if things got ugly when Tiresias finished before the hour was up and the audience demanded their money back.
Tiresias was beyond such concerns. From his position on the floor, he rapidly scanned the room until he saw her; the one for whom the message was meant. Starting to clamber off the stage, he tripped on his cloak, managing, Merlin knew how, to stay upright.
–He’s come for me!†Vonnie gasped in thrilled terror, and clutched at her friend’s arm.
But when he reached the third row, Tiresias looked past Vonnie and into the eyes of her taller, blonde friend.
–Tuney,†he screamed.
But the voice was not his.
–Take care of Harry for me. Take care of my boy.â€