Prologue

1870
Victorian London

The gloomy London air was, for once, perfectly matched with the mood that fell upon St Paul's Church in Knightsbridge. Women and gentleman huddled together outside, umbrella's shielding them from the light spray of rain, dressed in all black, giving outsiders an insight into the private ceremony that was about to occur in the confinements of the beautiful, recently built church.

Inside, gatherers were all seated, ready to say their goodbyes to the late Milton Manville, a well-respected man in the community. However, instead of the customary black that was worn to funerals, the pews were filled with purples and greens, only a seldom few black outfits littering the crowd. Those dressed in the traditional way were clearly quite confused at the colour scheme, judging by the looks and whispering behind hands that the women were doing. However, they were only ones who reacted, those dressed in the purples and greens batted no eyelids. And this was because, unbeknownst to the muggles dressed in black, Milton Manville had been a wizard.

Creator of the Undetectable Extension Charm, Mr Manville was celebrated in his field and his community. A prominent man in society, both wizarding and muggle, he was known for his kind and gentle ways and bad jokes that always got a laugh. The turnout of his funeral was expected to many but for his only granddaughter, it was quite the shock to see so many people gathered together. The young woman knew her grandfather was well liked and well respected amongst his peers but the volume of people in the muggle church was beyond anything she could have imagined.

Miss Clara Manville sat alone at the front of the church, no other family by her side, her last living relation in England resting in the polished black coffin in front of the altar. As not to alarm the muggles she had lived amongst for so long, she was wearing black, a smart dress and veil over her face as she stared straight ahead, her eyes seeing nothing but her ears hearing everything going on around her. Her grandfather's death had not come as a shock but it was unwelcome and hurtful all the same. He had died of a bad chest, something even wizarding potions could not seem to cure. She was now an orphan and was to face the rest of her life on her own, unless she found a husband.

It was funny how muggle traditions had found their way into wizarding culture but marrying young and for wealth was now expected of young witches, regardless whether they had their own fortunes or not. Clara had already had three offers of marriage but her grandfather had managed to help her in turning them down without giving offence. But now he was gone, it was likely she would be expected to accept the hand of the next man who asked her and it was something she was not looking forward to.

As the congregation around her settled into their seats and quietened down, Clara knew it was time to say her final farewell to her dear grandfather. Standing up, she took tentative steps to where he lay and placed a single white rose next to his body before re-taking her seat and allowing the priest to begin the mournful ceremony.

"Miss Manville, I am so truly sorry for your loss," Clara looked up and smiled politely at another face of a man she did not recognise and nodded in appreciation.

"Thank you, you are too kind," Appeased with the reply, the old man turned away and left Clara to stand on her own by the freshly dug grave, staring at her grandfather's ornate headstone with a small, sad smile on her face.

Milton Nicholas Manville
1793 – 1870
A Remarkable Man, Loved By All.

The words were simple but they were all that was needed. Plus, they had to be general, any lines adhering to magic would confuse muggles and as he was being buried in a muggle cemetery, it was best not to draw too much attention.

"Wasn't he born in 1750?"

Clara turned at the sound of a man's voice and came face to face with yet another old man. She would have usually only bothered with the usual pleasantries but the old man before her knew her grandfather's real age and this peaked her interest.

"Yes but seeing as where is buried, I couldn't very well put that he had died at the grand old age of 120, could I? That's not custom in the muggle world."

Clara looked back at the headstone for a second before turning her attention fully on the man. Dressed in a smart suit, top hat and a walking stick, he looked like he could have been another muggle but the colour of his cravat, which was a deep shade of purple, gave away his identity.

"Excuse but can I ask who you are? You clearly knew my grandfather well, as he didn't tell many people his real age."

The old man chuckled and took off his top hat, tipping it in Clara's direction in a gentleman like manner. "Forgive me, my dear. I forget in my old age who I have met and who I haven't. My name is Bernard Dixon, I'm a professor at Hogwarts. I first met your grandfather a very long time ago."

"It's lovely to meet you, Professor Dixon. My grandfather knew so many people, I don't know many by name, I'm afraid. But I will definitely remember yours."

"That you will, my dear. Now, I came here to say my farewells but I also have another reason for being here today. And you are part of that reason."

Clara frowned slightly at the bespectacled man, whose eyes were glistening as though he had a secret he wanted to share. "Me? What have I got to do anything? I only met you five minutes ago, sir."

The man chuckled once more and replaced his hat back upon his head. He offered his arm to Clara, who took it out of politeness and they left the cemetery at a slow pace, Clara allowing the old man to lead. "Your grandfather, my dear, was a special man, as you well know. But he was also a part of something special. You've heard about the recent disappearances, I assume?"

Clara nodded. "Yes, they've been all over the Daily Prophet for the past couple months. They still haven't caught who is doing it. It's a terrible thing."

"Yes well, as the Ministry is no closer to discovering who is behind these…disappearances, your grandfather and I, among others, decided to take matters into our own hands."

Clara frowned again and glanced at the Professor on her right. "And how have you done that exactly?"

The old professor stopped and turned to Clara, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I can show you, if you want?"

Clara nodded but before she could say anything, the professor had grabbed her hand and she felt the familiar tug of disapparation before she landed in a warm room, stumbling slightly. Opening her eyes, she was met the sight of many people, laughing and joking and drinking together at tables.

"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, Miss Manville."

Clara was amazed at what she saw. She had heard of the pub from so many of her wizarding friends but she had never been herself, her grandfather forbidding her to ever enter. She had never known why he was so insistent she was never to go in but at that moment, she didn't care. The pub was warm and inviting, loud and jolly. It was a different world compared to the muggle pubs she had visited once or twice and she instantly loved it.

"If you would follow me, Miss Manville. You can come back here later in the evening for a drink on me."

Clara tore her eyes away to nod at Professor Dixon and followed him to the back of the pub. Watching him tap the wall three times with his walking stick, a door appeared from nowhere and with a smile, he opened it. Clara took a step forward to take a look inside and was greeted with a table with a sea of people sat either side of it, talking to each other animatedly, unaware of her presence. Professor Dixon nudged her slightly and she stepped inside, her eyes taking in everything. When she had finished her wonderings, she turned to Professor Dixon, who was smiling at her warmly.

"Welcome to the Defenders of the Light, Clara."

Clara was still in awe of her surroundings when Professor Dixon spoke, so he politely repeated himself, this time gaining the young woman's attention.

"Welcome to the Defenders of the Light."

"I beg your pardon sir but what? I've never heard of the Defenders of the Light before."

Professor Dixon chuckled loudly, which garnered the attention of all at the table, who were all know focused on Clara and their founder. "I take that as a good thing, Clara. Please take a seat and I'll explain everything."

Clara nodded and allowed Professor Dixon to lead her to an empty chair, beside a man whose face she could not see, whilst he sat himself beside her at the head of the table. Clara took in the many faces in the room, most of them looking at her with interest. Blushing slightly at the attention she was getting, she was grateful when Professor Dixon cleared his throat.

"I would like to introduce you to Miss Clara Manville, granddaughter of our late friend, Milton. I don't think I need to explain why I have invited her here." There were murmurs around the table but no one interrupted with any objections as to the reason Clara was sitting with them. Professor Dixon turned to Clara and smiled warmly. "Clara, dear let me introduce you to the Defenders."

He turned away from Clara and motioned to the first person on his left, an aristocratic looking woman who could only have been in her mid forties. "This is Theodora Ollivander, you may have heard of her and her husband, the wand maker Gerbold Ollivander." The woman shot Clara a polite smile and Clara mirrored her actions. Of course she had heard of Theodora Ollivander and her husband, they were famous throughout the land. Him for his wand-making skills and Theodora for her powerful and intellectual mind. Her grandfather had mentioned her many times but Clara had never known how they knew each other until this point.

"This is Dugald McPhail. I don't think I need to clarify who he is, do I?" Clara shook her head as she looked to the man sat next to Theodora Ollivander. Dugald McPhail had been Minister for Magic before Faris Spavin had taken over and had been one of the youngest Minsters ever appointed. He had also been one of the better liked ones, with people calling for him to replace Faris Spavin in the next election. The young man smiled at Clara and she felt herself blush slightly. He was an attractive man, with piercing blue eyes, red/brown hair and a boyish smile. She finally smiled at him and looked to the professor as he introduced the rest of the group.

"This is Bertie Slughorn, master potioneer," the slightly plump man nodded his head in acknowledgement, "Miss Maggie Hill, a lady in the muggle Royal Court," the young woman smiled at Clara and bowed her head. Clara did the same and then faced the last person to be introduced.

It was man about the same age as Dugald McPhail but his scowl made him look ten years older. He made no attempt to smile at Clara and simply bowed his head politely, though she could see he had to force himself to do it.

"And finally, this is Edwin Clayton, owner of many floo powder factories. He is an intelligent man but do ignore the stern brow, he doesn't know how to smile." Everyone else at the table laughed but even the professor's joke did not make him raise a smile. Clara gave the man one last look before she turned back to Professor.

"It's lovely to meet everyone but I still do not understand why I am here?"

There was a scoff from the corner of the room and Clara knew without turning around that the sound had come from the disagreeable Mr Clayton. "I thought you said you she was smart, Mr Dixon."

"Excuse me but I'm standing right here. Please do not speak about me like I am a child or some ignorant woman." Clara usually held back her easily riled manner but she knew with this man, she did not need to be polite as he was not with her.

"You might not think her smart, Edwin but I think she is wonderful," Mrs Ollivander raised her glass of what looked like muggle champagne towards Clara. "Bravo dear girl, I do like a female who speaks her mind."

Clara nodded grimly, slightly embarrassed by her outburst but she did not blush and did not apologise. Professor Dixon looked bemused at Clara's remark to Mr Clayton and cleared his throat.

"Mr Clayton, I think you need to give Miss Manville a chance. Miss Manville you are here because when your grandfather passed away, he left a visible void and he thought and I agreed that you should replace him. I've heard of your intelligence, Miss Manville and your extraordinary ability with a wand and without. I believe you would be a valuable asset to this group."

Clara blushed appropriately at the compliments given to her by the Professor. She had never believed herself cleverer than others but her wand skills were something she knew of and were proud of. Although she had never been to a school to learn magic, her grandfather taught her everything she needed to know and she had excelled in spells. By her teens, she was accomplished in wandless magic, a skill not many magical folk knew how to do well, if they knew at all. But Clara was modest and did not brag about her skills and accepted the compliments politely.

"Thank you, Professor. You are too kind. But are you sure that it is me you want? I am stood here amongst accomplished and intelligent witches and wizards and I feel rather insignificant."

"Well you shouldn't my dear, in fact, I think we are all in agreement that you are indeed the right woman for the job, do we not?" The room nodded in agreement with the professor and Clara felt herself blush once more. Professor Dixon turned to Clara once more and smiled kindly. "So, Miss Manville, what do you say? About joining us in our cause?"

Clara glanced around the room once more at the approving faces, all except one, and turned to Professor Dixon, shyly smiling. "How can I refuse such an offer?"

"Well that is settled then, let's drink to our newest recruit." Theodora filled the glasses on the table with the flick of her wand, with what Clara now knew was champagne and every picked up their glasses. "To Clara."

"To Clara," Everyone repeated jovially and drank to a blushing Clara. When the toasting was finished and everyone resumed their private conversations, Clara took a seat at the end of the table, near to Professor Dixon and let out a weary sigh.

Just what had she agreed to?