DISCLAIMER: I'm just playing in the Harry Potter sandbox. If you recognize it from elsewhere, I don't own it.

EDITION NOTE: Originally, this story was meant as part of a series. However, I have recently decided to make it a standalone story. For that reason, I have revised the story to remove loose ends that would have been tied up in sequels. While I was at it, I cleaned up a few typos and improved on my Briticisms. The first edition was posted in 2006; second edition was posted in 2010.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is about Dorcas Meadowes, a character mentioned only once in six books. In this story, I attempt to form a character and her history from the few clues we have about her.

"That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally … Sirius, when he still had short hair." Moody in Order of the Phoenix

One of JKR's trademarks is how much emphasis she places on names and their meanings. This isn't always true, but researching the name Dorcas led to some very insightful discoveries. Dorcas: Greek, meaning 'a gazelle.' Gazelles are considered prey. They are also very quick runners and extremely graceful.

In the Bible, Dorcas is a Greek woman and civil servant brought back to life by Peter. The whole city mourned her death. Acts 9:36-41

Hopefully, this explains some of the decisions I've made regarding Dorcas's personality and past. I hope her character is agreeable to you. I'm open to constructive criticism and suggestions as much as I am to positive reviews.

Many thanks to Linaewen for the beautiful banner, the support, and all the other e-mails we share besides. Also, to my Beta-reader IShantEatFlamingoTongues from Perfect Imagination for fixing all the stupid mistakes I can't see in my own writing.

Thank you for reading (and even more for reviewing).

October Twilight

Chapter One

Something Worth Fighting For

A figure huddled down into a warm woolen sweater leaned against the rickety whitewashed fence just outside Bromley Green. It was not at first possible to tell that the figure was female, so deeply had she buried herself into the turtleneck. Her sleek raven tresses swirled and tangled in the harsh October wind as she waited. Try as she might to brush the errant locks behind her ears, the wind would not allow it to stay well kempt for long. She bounced on the balls of her feet and rubbed her arms to keep warm, all the while muttering curses in a light, melodious voice that did not suit the profanities escaping her lips.

Dorcas Meadowes was cursing the man who was late for the meeting he'd arranged with her. As if it weren't bad enough that she was standing in the middle of a barren field facing the wind, the man had insisted that they meet there, and he then had the nerve to be late. If she hadn't respected him so much, she would have Apparated back to her house and forgotten about the meeting.

During the walk from the secluded house to the hamlet some half a mile away, the wind had picked up and tiny snowflakes had begun drifting from the overcast sky. Few people had ventured out into the nasty weather, and she couldn't blame them. She would much rather have been curled up in front of the fire than standing in the middle of the field waiting to meet with an extremely tardy old man.

The Muggles in the hamlet went about their daily routines, not knowing about the wizarding families who lived among them. They had no clue that the pretty young woman hanging around the town sign was a witch. They would never have suspected that she had a wand clutched in her right hand and strategically hidden in her sweater sleeve. Those same people were the reason she was dressed in an itchy Muggle sweater and trousers and why she couldn't just Apparate back to her house like she wanted.

That, and her father had put so many security charms on the house that it was impossible to Apparate into it, find it on a map, see it unless told where it was or lived there, or bring Muggles within fifty feet of it. She was confused about the Muggle-repelling charms, as several of her aunts were Muggles. She suspected her father had just gone a bit overboard in the hysteria He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters were spreading throughout the wizarding world.

Just as she was about to begin screaming profanities at the weather, the man she had been waiting for appeared in front of the mill. She opened her mouth to yell at him, but the words died in her throat. She couldn't have been disrespectful to her former professor if she tried. Now that she saw him, she couldn't help but feel grateful to see him, late as he was.

Professor Albus Dumbledore was a wizened old man with a flowing silver beard and intelligent blue eyes framed behind half-moon spectacles. The usual smile on his lips seemed forced today, and that concerned Dorcas. Throughout her years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she had spent countless hours in the Head's Office to fulfill her duties as prefect and for the extra lessons Dumbledore had given her twice a week. She had never seen the Headmaster anything less than jovial.

From his sudden arrival, she assumed that he had Apparated, but the accompanying popping sound had been lost on the wind. She was surprised that he had done so directly into the middle of the hamlet. It was a sign of the times, she thought. Everyone wanted to get from one place to another as quickly as possible. Witches and wizards from the Highlands to Kent were living in fear. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was getting very powerful, and there was no sign of him stopping his campaign of death and destruction anytime soon. That even Professor Dumbledore felt this urgency was disquieting.

"Miss Meadowes!" Professor Dumbledore called, striding over to her.

The fence was some hundred feet away from the outskirts of the hamlet and the walk into the gale had winded him somewhat. Even through the breathiness, his voice sounded strained, and he spoke quickly.

"Good afternoon, professor."

"The place I asked you about …," Dumbledore prompted.

"Oh, right!"

Dorcas's thoughts had been jumbled since the barn owl had alighted on top of her Medicinal Charms homework with a letter from the Headmaster earlier that morning. He had asked to meet with her at one o'clock that afternoon and for her to find a secure location where they could speak freely about delicate matters.

"Our house should be fine. My dad will be at work until five, and Darius is at school, of course."

A hollow feeling settled in Dorcas's stomach as she led the way down the lane. Eight months after the fact it still felt unnatural to not include her mother and Calliope when talking about her family members. After the funerals, so many people had told her that the emptiness would heal with time. She wondered if any of those same people had ever lost anyone as close as a mother and sister.

The Meadowes's manor sat on a large plot of woodlands that the family had owned for as long as anyone could remember. The house was not as large as those owned by other pureblood families, but the Meadowes did not have an overflowing vault of gold in Gringott's Wizard Bank. Their wealth was in the history of the sweeping gothic arches and elaborate tapestries in their home.

At the front entrance, Dorcas pulled out her wand and waved it in the complicated pattern that revealed the wards placed on the house. A thin purple mist appeared over the gargoyle knocker with a number of ancient symbols floating in it. Dumbledore made an interested sound from behind her, and Dorcas couldn't hold back her smile.

"Very impressive. Filius would be delighted to see such exquisite Charms work."

Dorcas chuckled softly, thinking of the Charms Professor squeaking and tumbling off the stack of books he stood on to teach. Dorcas disabled the wards deftly, having memorized their order. She made a mental note to reset the wards after her father came home. If she had them memorized, then it was time for new protections.

She led the Headmaster through the atrium where portraits of deceased Meadowes matriarchs welcomed him graciously and patriarchs inquired about his health. A house-elf dressed in a frilly pink tea towel was waiting with a tray when the Headmaster and former student entered the vaulted drawing room.

"Thank you, Mellie," Dorcas smiled.

The house-elf bowed low, her plump nose touching the oak floorboards. "Does Mistress and Sir require anything else?"

"No, thank you, Mellie."

When the house-elf backed out of the room, Dorcas turned towards Dumbledore. She had spent many hours with the Headmaster and knew that he would come to the point of the meeting in his own time. Presently, he was selecting a biscuit from the tray.

"I'll be direct," Dumbledore said, when he had finished the biscuit. "I asked you to meet me today so that I may ask for your assistance in the fight against Lord Voldemort."

Dorcas physically started at the name. She set down her tea cup with a shaky hand and wiped off the liquid that had burnt her fingers. Dumbledore was looking at her sternly, as he had many times in the past when she had done something particularly foolish during one of their lessons.

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," the Headmaster said. "You're far too bright and too brave to be scared of a name."

"Yes, well, thank you for the vote of confidence." Her tone made it clear that she would not be using the Dark Lord's name anytime soon.

"I'd like to ask you to join the Order of the Phoenix."

There was a charged silence in the air during which Dorcas wanted to ask what the Order of the Phoenix was, but didn't want to appear foolish by not knowing.

Dumbledore smiled patiently and said, "This is what happens when the cleverest people converse. The Order of the Phoenix is an underground society. We fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters in every way we can."

An image of her mother and sister lying in their coffins flashed behind Dorcas's eyes. Death Eaters had murdered them in the second raid on Diagon Alley.

Dorcas had decided to become a Healer that day late in seventh-year, having changed from pursuing a career as an Auror. There were plenty of students ready to duel with Death Eaters. Dorcas thought there should be someone to patch up the Aurors at the end of the day. She had wanted to serve the side of good in the best way she knew how, and Healing was her way of doing that. She didn't know what she could offer the Order of the Phoenix, but Dumbledore thought she had some skills that would be valuable and she trusted his opinion.

"I don't know what I can do, but I want to do something besides sit in a classroom and wait until I have enough knowledge to heal someone."

"You've shown extraordinary magical talent, Dorcas, and I would be honored to have you in the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore continued. "You can do more than you might think. I must tell you that there are risks involved. Order members have died fulfilling their duties …"

The silence in the air was palpable. Dumbledore left it hanging for a long while, allowing Dorcas time to think about the possibility of death, the people she would leave behind, and the good she might do if she believed strongly enough in the cause.

"If this war had never begun, you would certainly have had a bright future. You still may have. I will not pressure you into giving that up. You have as much time as you need to decide."

"I'll join," Dorcas said immediately. "I'll do whatever I can."

Dumbledore gazed at her thoughtfully, a mixture of sadness and pride mingling on his aged face. "I expected nothing less of you."

Dumbledore gazed silently at Dorcas for a moment, and then suddenly she felt an unpleasantly familiar sensation spreading through her mind. Images of Healers telling her about bone fractures and her mother's and sister's funerals were swimming in front of her eyes. She concentrated hard, focusing her attention away from those thoughts and instead upon a single image of a sphinx.

Next moment, Dumbledore's laughter filled her ears. Dorcas was panting slightly from the mental exhaustion of pushing such a powerful wizard from her mind, and a throbbing pain was forming just behind her eyes. When she looked up, tears were leaking out of Dumbledore's crinkled eyes.

"A sphinx, I should have known. Someone as clever as you would devise a sphinx to guard your thoughts. Brilliant, Dorcas. I must say, this device is much more creative than the locked door you used in your school days."

"That's all you wanted?" Dorcas asked, a little annoyed.

"Yes," the Headmaster answered, growing more serious. "I need to impress upon you the absolute necessity of practicing Occlumency every moment of every day. One slip with a Death Eater skilled in Legilimency around and you will be Voldemort's next target. He will stop at nothing to get someone with your ability on his side. If he finds out, he will invade your mind to learn what you know. He will not show restraint as I have today. He will break your mind to get the information he wants. You must not let him find out."

A shudder passed down Dorcas's spine as she thought of all the damage He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could do armed with the information she could provide him. Dumbledore was right. She would be in grave danger if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named found out her ability. She made up her mind in an instant. She would not give in to him. She would die before joining the ranks of the Death Eaters. Goose pimples spread up her arms as the thoughts swirled in her head. It was likely she would face that choice sooner or later. Her head was pounding from the mental invasion and spinning with nervous adrenaline. She couldn't help but wonder what she'd gotten herself into by joining the Order of the Phoenix.

"Before I go, I'd like to show you a few spells I've created. The Order uses Patronuses to communicate. It's a modified version."

Dorcas mastered the spell after a few failed attempts. When her bright gazelle-Patronus delivered a message to Dumbledore, and when she received one from his phoenix-Patronus, the Headmaster took his leave.

"You'll be informed of Order meetings by Patronus," he said, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders. "There will be a meeting within the week."

Dorcas walked her former professor to the gate, and after resetting the wards, retreated into the warm manor. It was approaching three o'clock, and she hadn't done so much as one essay for her classes. She trudged upstairs, forcing herself to focus on her studies and not what dangerous and top-secret missions Dumbledore might have for her.

The upstairs of the house was only half the size of the downstairs with sloping ceilings and very few windows. It wasn't as cheerful as Hufflepuff Cellar had been, especially with the dim autumn sun hidden behind the clouds, but it was home. Dorcas walked past her bedroom, pausing only to step over the massive pile of Healer robes she had bought the week before but hadn't found time to wash.

She entered the second upstairs room and sat down at her desk. There was more light in this room, which was the reason she had chosen it as her study. She had crammed five bookshelves, full to overflowing, into the small room. Her course books were piled by the desk with bits of torn parchment serving as bookmarks and reams of notes shoved into the coordinating chapters. It didn't look very organized, but with all the work trainee Healers had to do, she didn't have time to organize her notes and homework.

Her assignments had been all but forgotten in the wake of receiving the owl from Professor Dumbledore that morning. The essay on treating werewolf wounds that were not bites lay forgotten, the word "infection" only half written.

True to his word, Dumbledore sent a message by Patronus within the week. The missive was short, asking Dorcas to arrive at the Three Broomsticks the following Saturday at ten minutes before ten. It said nothing else, but she guessed that this was when she would receive her first assignment for the Order of the Phoenix. She would have to miss a study session for Medicinal Potions to attend the meeting, but it would be worth it to find out more information about the Order.

o o o

Four days later, Dorcas Apparated into Hogsmeade Village. The streets were packed with Hogwarts students third year and above, and the shop keepers were bustling behind their picture windows. It was the weekend before Halloween, traditionally the first Hogsmeade weekend. Festive orange and black decorations hung from every window and store front. Zonko's was having a Halloween Extravaganza sale, and Scrivenshaft's was offering a two-for-one special on quills with the purchase of a pre-carved jack-o-lantern.

Several seventh-year Hufflepuffs shouted greetings to Dorcas, and her younger brother, Darius, waved from inside Honeydukes. She walked up the street towards the Three Broomsticks, enjoying the smell of spiced pumpkin wafting out of the bakery and huddling into her cloak to block the cold wind. By the time she reached the tavern, her cheeks were rosy and she was craving a butterbeer.

"Morning, Dorcas," Madam Rosemerta called.

Dorcas smiled at the barmaid and was about to reply when she was knocked backwards by the force of Lily Evans barreling into her. Lily's fiery red hair was all she could see for a few moments as the girls embraced.

"Why haven't you sent me an owl? How's Healer training? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Dorcas laughed, happy to be around Lily again. They hadn't spent a lot of time together since the end of the school year, and even then they had been studying for NEWTs. Being in different Houses, both with prefect duties, and taking different subjects, it had been difficult to find a few moments just to chat.

"I'll explain later. I think we only have a few minutes until McGonagall arrives anyway. You know she's never late."

Lily led the other young woman towards the back of the tavern where a small group of graduated students, all in Dorcas's year, had gathered. She greeted Remus Lupin as enthusiastically as Lily had greeted her. She and Remus had been practically joined at hip for the twelve weeks preceding NEWTs, but they hadn't seen much of one another since June. He was looking especially fatigued this morning, but he smiled warmly and embraced Dorcas, as selfless as always.

Dorcas was entirely nonplussed to see James Potter there, still running his hand through his untidy black hair. No matter how much Lily said that Potter had changed, Dorcas still thought of him as the conceited bully who terrorized anyone who annoyed him. She was surprised to see that Sirius the Sidekick wasn't with Potter, not that she missed seeing him. Remus was the only Marauder she liked.

Potter was rambling on about something stupid Peter Pettigrew had done earlier that day. It wasn't exactly an original topic, Dorcas thought. Although he was a sweet boy, Pettigrew was always doing stupid things. She'd never forgive him for incorrectly casting the Engorgement Charm that had killed her owl in second year. He was absent from the meeting, but thinking about the quality of the other witch and wizards Dumbledore had invited, she wasn't surprised.

The bell above the door jingled again as Professor McGonagall entered the tavern looking thoroughly put out. A string of what looked like orange slime was swinging from the brim of her hat, and she was dragging a tall young man with short black hair by his ear.

"Of all the immature things you've done, that was by far the worst!" McGonagall shrieked. "If you were still in school, I'd take one hundred points from Gryffindor for that display and put you in detention for a month and ban you from Quidditch! You're of age now.

You should be setting a better example."

The young adults at the table were stifling their laughter as McGonagall continued to lecture Sirius Black on all the childish and dangerous things he had done in the past while twisting his ear so hard that his entire face contorted in pain.

Dorcas was the most gleeful of all. Her favorite hobby at Hogwarts had been seeing Black get detention. She hated the way he wasted his popularity on hexing anyone who annoyed him and thought he deserved every detention he'd ever served.

When McGonagall was done with Black, she pushed him aside. He was too busy massaging his ear to notice Dorcas specifically, but he glared at his snickering friends. With flushed cheeks and thin lips, Professor McGonagall asked them to follow her into the back room.

She shuffled the former students around boxes filled with butterbeer, firewhisky, and kegs of various drafts. They exchanged curious and amused glances behind her back, wondering what thing of importance could be in the backroom of the Three Broomsticks.

"You understand," said Professor McGonagall, as she picked up an empty Ogden's Firewhisky bottle, "that everything you hear today is top-secret. We'll be taking this portkey directly to the Headmaster's Office and you'll be leaving by Floo powder from his grate. No one is to know you've been to Hogwarts today. You were in Hogsmeade only, if asked." Her expression softened somewhat, but she refused to look at Black as she continued. "You are the finest students of last year's graduating class. That is why Dumbledore has asked you to join the Order. You'll be receiving your assignments today."

At two minutes after ten, McGonagall ordered everyone to touch the portkey. Dorcas felt the familiar tug behind her navel and the world sped past in a blur of color. Next moment, she was lying on her back in the Headmaster's Office, watching Fawkes clean his feathers while Lily yelled at Black to get off her leg. A moment later, the pressure of having two bodies on top of her lifted, and Lily pulled her up.

"My, but that was interesting," a familiar voice said. Professor Dumbledore was standing behind his desk, watching the scene with sparkling blue eyes. "I don't think I've seen anyone older than twelve make such a mess of a portkey. Perhaps I've chosen the wrong witches and wizards after all."

McGonagall was snickering behind her hand. It was a bizarre sight, one Dorcas had never seen before. She had been nervous about her first assignment for the Order, but the familiar Head's Office calmed her somewhat. The portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses snoozing in their picture frames, the whirling metal objects, and Fawkes reminded her of better times when life had been all about having fun.

"Please, sit," the Headmaster said, waving his wand.

Several chintz armchairs appeared beside the former students. They had grown unnaturally still, anxious to finally receive their assignments.

"We'll need a warning."

Dumbledore had directed this at the phoenix, which disappeared with a bright burst of flame. Only then did the Headmaster turn his gaze to the young adults he had asked to meet with him.

"You've all shown extraordinary magical talent, and I have complete confidence in all of you. There are risks to these assignments, as I'm sure you know. No single Order member, except for myself, knows everything that we are doing. It is safer that way, for even the bravest are defenseless against certain types of magic."

He fixed Dorcas with a stern glare, as if accusing her of something. She gasped, realizing the implication. He nodded solemnly. The others, except for Lily and Remus, looked curiously between the Headmaster and Dorcas.

"I will not say do not speak to one another about your activities, but use discretion. As adults, you will have to carry some burdens alone. Spreading certain information could endanger your friends."

He paused for a moment and plucked a sheet of parchment out of his pocket. As it was passed around the group, Dumbledore explained the note.

"There is a Fidelius Charm on headquarters. Only I can reveal its location. Please memorize that address."

Dorcas looked down at the parchment in her palm.

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at number seventeen, Holly Falls, London.

Something about the name Holly Falls rang a bell, but Dorcas couldn't remember where she'd heard it before. McGonagall burned the message with her wand tip and let the black ashes fall into the waste bin while Dumbledore continued explaining the Order to the newest members.

"We have been informed that Martin Weasley and his family have been targeted by Voldemort. Last week, Martin's older brother was murdered. He was their Secret-Keeper. Although Arthur Weasley has volunteered to become their new Secret-Keeper, Martin will not hear of it. He wants to take his family into hiding outside the country so as to not endanger anyone else close to him. Until the arrangements are finalized, you will be standing guard over the family."

Dorcas felt her heart pounding against her ribcage. She wanted to stop He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and the Order seemed the best way to do it, but she hadn't thought anyone's lives would be placed directly into her hands.

"Seeing as Remus is busy up north, and I have a special project for Dorcas, the guard duties will be split between Lily, James, and Sirius. Two will be on duty at all times."

Dorcas was curious to know what Remus was doing in northern Scotland, but she didn't think this was the time or place to ask him bluntly what he had been doing for the Order his very first week as a member. She also wanted to know what her special project was, and why the Weasleys were being guarded by three eighteen-year-olds instead of trained Aurors.

"Miss Meadowes, I'd like you to set up a hospital wing at headquarters," Dumbledore continued. "There may come a time when even St. Mungo's is not safe, and we need to be prepared. You'll have whatever resources you need."

Dorcas gaped at the Headmaster, but he didn't comment on her obvious surprise. She had only been in Healer training for a few months, and her professors constantly remarked that, while she knew all the information from the textbooks, she had trouble applying it.

She glanced at her former classmates, wondering if they found the assignments daunting as well. To her dismay, they looked perfectly calm, as if they had expected such important assignments. Not for the first time that week, Dorcas felt incredibly foolish. She clamped her mouth shut, deciding not to voice her concerns.

"You will be contacted later this week by other Order members who will take you to headquarters. Until then, please carry out the assignments I have requested. If anything should go wrong, do not hesitate to contact myself or any other Order member you know."

After a few more instructions from Dumbledore, the newest members of the Order lined up at the fire grate. As Dorcas stepped out of the grate and into her own drawing room, she couldn't help but wonder why Dumbledore has assigned her such an important task. Surely there was another Healer in the Order who could do a better job. She made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about it the next time she saw him. At the moment, she had more pressing matters to attend to, like the unfinished essays due Monday morning.

Before she set to work, she jotted a note to herself on the corner of her Medicinal Charms notes.

Check Practical Studies classroom for supplies needed.

Whether Dumbledore would reassign the task to a more experienced Healer or not, Dorcas vowed to fulfill the assignment as best she could.