Chapter Two: Where is here?
Fred hovered outside the door of a perfectly ordinary terrace house for about six or seven minutes. On the green door with peeling paint, was the number twenty-seven, glinting in the moonlight. Fred glanced at his watch: 10:22pm. It was almost time but... should he go in? It was madness, of course, to even dream about it, but then again he was a Gryffindor, and a Weasley to boot, so he fell pretty high on the courageous, risk-taking list of people. Yet still, Fred would have had to be insane not to think it over seriously.
So he thought, standing at the side of the road like an idiot, while cars shot past well over the speed limit and drivers occasionally stuck their head out the window to shout obscenities. He tried to imagine what the rest of his family would do. Had George been faced with this choice, he would have been even more indecisive than Fred; the twins were always more certain of things when they were deciding them together, meaning they became that much more dithering when it came to solitary judgements. Ron and Ginny? Well, obviously, spending so much time with Harry had rubbed off on them, and they would have eagerly entered. Well, Ginny would, Fred amended, Ron had matured lately. His childlike desire for adventure had quelled slightly as a normal part of growing up and he would view this situation more rationally. Bill, a year ago, would have gone in without a second thought, but being ravaged by an insane werewolf obviously made one more wary. Charlie would never had entered. Not that he wasn't brave, but he'd never really shown the same craving, as his siblings did, to discover the new and the intriguing.
What about Percy? Fred's mind finally, unwillingly, considered his other brother and quickly drew its conclusion. Percy would never, ever, not in ten million light years, enter the house or let such an irresponsible thought enter his mind. Perfect, prefect Percy with his neat hair and haughty expression was neither brave nor curious (how he'd landed himself in Gryffindor was a mystery, and Fred was quite ready to believe he'd bribed the sorting hat in some way) and would find no reason to enter this building.
As if to contradict his brother, Fred suddenly made up his mind, grabbed the door knob and yanked it. It didn't move, being, of course, locked. Feeling a bit of a prat, Fred knocked the door. It opened almost immediately.
"Oh, you're here," the door-opener beamed. It was the man who'd shown up at his joke shop. "You're the last; I was beginning to wonder whether you'd come at all."
"Last? Who are the rest?" Fred demanded.
"You'll see. Come on through." The man beckoned Fred forward and they proceeded down the tiny hallway. The entire place seemed cramped and drab, and not nearly impressive enough to excite Fred's curiosity. At the end of the hallway, though, the man pulled a rug up from the floor. A trap doorway lay there. The stranger gave a small smile to Fred, who began to suspect something seriously dodgy going on. Nonetheless, he dutifully followed the man down a ladder and into the basement below.
At the bottom was a large, stonewalled room that was completely and utterly bare. Fred threw the man a suspicious glance: was this some sort of joke? Undeterred, the man casually sidled to one of the walls and started tapping at segments with his wand. Part of the wall instantly fell away to reveal a long corridor.
"Like Diagon Alley," Fred muttered.
" The charm is not dissimilar, yes."
They walked in silence for the rest of the way, along the corridor, then taking a left into a tortuous labyrinth filled with wooden doors. Finally, the strange man, whom Fred had begun to regard with some mistrust, paused outside one particular door and opened it.
"It's about time, I thought you were leaving us here!" a voice exclaimed angrily as they entered into a brightly lit room. Fred recognised, with no little surprise, the pale face and stormy grey eyes of Draco Malfoy, who looked both sulky and panicked.
"I am here now," the man said calmly. "As are all of you." Fred allowed his eyes to drift along the rest of the room. Besides Draco, there was Hermione and Luna Lovegood -- a strange girl that Fred knew vaguely from the DA. The former looked nervous but in control; Luna looked as if this experience was an everyday event, and not a very exciting one at that. Fleur and -- was it Cho? -- stood looking like typical 'Damsels in Distress' next to Oliver who was not unoblivious to the two beautiful women right next to him. Finally, a little apart from the rest, looking characteristically self-confident, albeit not so smug, was-
"Percy!" Fred yelled in surprise, forgetting to inject his usual contempt into the two syllables.
"Yes?" Percy said, taking in his brother without expression.
Fred would have come up with something witty and cutting, but the peculiar, ageless stranger suddenly announced,
"So, finally we are all here."
"Where is here?" Hermione demanded, speaking the question that was on everyone's minds. "And who are you?"
"Oh, of course, how rude of me," the man murmured. "I am Mr Wesley. This house is the Headquarters for the Society of Pelopidas."
"Never heard of it," Oliver said in a dismissive manner.
"Well, no, you wouldn't have. Only the members know of its existence."
"So, I'm guessing we're going to have to become members now," Percy said astutely.
"I am afraid so. That or suffer an early and untimely death." He spoke with the kind of regret that one usually displayed at losing a galleon.
"What?" Draco roared. Everyone looked outraged and even Luna had a slight frown on her forehead.
"That's not fair," Hermione said flatly.
"Just a little joke," Mr Wesley said brightly and they all looked at him stupid. "I'm sorry I have a rather twisted sense of humour. You would not die; you would however have your memories erased."
"Brilliant," Oliver muttered.
"I know but..." Mr Wesley trailed off. "That's just how it is." Tense, angry silence met his words.
"What does the Society of Pelopidas do, anyway?" Fred asked.
"In a nutshell, we protect the human race. We fight the obvious evil, and the invisible evil which hangs like spider web trying to ensnare the innocent. We stop much evil before it has had a chance to do any damage. For example, none of you will ever heard of the Vieille Dealers."
One by one, they shook their heads in bewilderment.
"That's because we destroyed them before they could get a grip on our society; nasty lot, they were. Vieille was a highly powerful magical drug that was discovered in the 1940s. Needless to say, some unsavoury characters tried to take advantage of the fact that it was highly addictive by getting the entire wizarding community hooked. As I said, we annihilated them."
"Good for you," Draco said sarcastically. "But what does this have to do with any of us."
"We need more members. Desperately. It's the Death Eaters that we're having real problems with."
"Don't ze Order of ze Phoenix deal with zem," Fleur asked.
"Yes, but-" The man didn't seem to know quite how to express himself. "As brave as the Order of the Phoenix are, they are not warriors, they are ordinary people. They have deterred the Death Eaters slightly, but even you must realise that average witches and wizards are no match to those powerfully trained in the Dark Arts. Now that Dumbledore has gone, they are in even greater disarray. The burden of protecting our world has fallen solely on the Society of Pelopidas. Which is why we need to recruit more people."
"Why us?" Hermione asked, but before she could be answered, Draco laughed sourly.
"Are you stupid? I AM a Death Eater! I'm not going to help you!"
"You're a good person, Draco," Mr Wesley said with a small smile. "I would not have called you here had I not sensed goodness in your heart. And now for Hermione's question: I have chosen you eight specifically because you are the best and the Society of Pelopidas only takes the best. We have rooted you out as the elite amongst the wizarding public, tracking back from your first year at Hogwarts. You are all the best in your individual ways, all brilliant, and I believe that the world could benefit greatly from your unique gifts. If you have the courage to share them." A rather stunned silence greeted this proclamation, for they all had had an unusually bizarre day and the news that they now had to help protect the world was the icing on the cake.
"No. Way." Draco said calmly, through gritted teeth.
"You do not have to decide now. You will have three days."
"Why three?" Cho asked.
"I like three."
"Right," Fred snorted.
"You must go now," Mr Wesley said with his apologetic smile that had grown highly annoying in a very short space of time. He motioned for them to follow him back through the twisting passageway.
"Why bother bringing us so far down?" Oliver muttered as they all marched along.
"Procedure," was Mr Wesley's answer.
Eventually they were all outside again on the filthy pavement, strewn with old newspapers, cigarette buts and broken glass. They were about to disapparate home when Mr Wesley cleared his throat.
"I've been asked not to say anything to you; to allow you to make up your own minds. But I must beg you to consider this: you will be saving people's lives and giving yours purpose. Therefore please think over this very carefully."
He went back inside, allowing the front door to shut behind him in a soft 'click'.