Inexplicably, Remus felt the twinge of apprehension as he approached a round door, like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob squarely in the middle. He disliked deception or misdirection fundamentally, and he'd decided to remain forthright in his appeal. This meant keeping details from Xenophilius Lovegood, whose diligence and generosity had kept him sane in some of his darkest days, and doing it explicitly. The cold grey of war was coming, he remembered, and steeled himself.

The door opened without a knock, of course. It was his way. Xenophilius' waist-length white hair bound with a thin leather chord, his white linen tunic, cast an impression that The Rook was an extension of himself, its brilliant white stone emanating magically from his aura.

"Remus!" He smiled warmly, bowing in an expression of sincere honor. "Greetings, friend. An unexpected pleasure, your arrival. If memory serves, I shouldn't expect you for at least a fortnight. Come in, come in!" Xenophilius ushered Lupin through the foyer, to a conjured twin leather wingback in his library, a small table between supporting two piping cups of Earl Grey tea.

Lupin relaxed in the seat beside Xenophilius, comforted by the familiarity of the routine they'd engaged in for years on his regular visits seeking Wolfsbane.

"Thank you, Xenophilius, your hospitality is always a welcome respite. I hestitate to impose upon you, especially without notice."

"Nonsense, Remus. The Rook is — indeed must always be — a shelter to friends of the light. For what were we fighting, those many years ago, if our homes aren't open to one another?"

Remus felt the warmth of his words, smiling gratefully as he picked up the steaming mug before him. "You're right, of course. Perhaps too many have forgotten such notions in the decades since."

Xenophilius shook his head, brow furrowed. "I'm afraid we'll have opportunity to revisit these lost virtues. There is darkness coming. Do you feel it, Remus?"

Remus had forgotten that, in moments like these, Xenophilius Lovegood exhibited a transcendent wisdom unlike anything he'd ever encountered.

"Indeed. It is, actually, why I'm here."

"Oh?"

"I come, Xenophilius, as a representative. A representative of someone we both trust implicitly."

"I see."

"These are dark times, Xenophilius. Darker, I'm afraid, than I'd allowed myself to believe. The complexity of the events that are presently unfolding, and of those which will inevitably unfold in the near future, have left me in an uncomfortably position."

"Indeed?"

Remus nodded. "I cannot tell you whom I represent. But I'm here to appeal to you to accept his offer of support."

Xenophlius sat back in his chair, lost in thought with a distant gaze. For a moment, silence fell upon them.

In time, he spoke. "I am, of course, willing to hear your appeal. Whoever this mysterious benefactor might be, he's correctly assessed the situation. I trust you, Remus, and count you among my allies. Yet I fear the distance your presence represents."

Lupin leaned forward, an intensity about his gaze, and nodded fervently. "I understand completely. I would feel the same apprehension. I thank you for your willingness to hear the appeal."

Xenophilius watched Lupin with an unflinching gaze. It was as if, behind his furrowed brow, a complex social calculus was unfolding, weighing statistical probabilities.

"Two questions loom, Xenophilius, and I come with a single answer to resolve them both."

Xenophilius Lovegood nodded, the intensity of his expression unfading.

"The first question is simple. Why now? What series of events justifies the restoration of The Quibbler? To what do we owe this sense of urgency?"

He paused, leaving space between his words. The silence was dense. Remus' expression had shifted, his eyes distant, following the movement of a swallow flitting between the distant willows, visible through the seamless glass windows before them.

"The second question looms behind the first. What justifies the veil of secrecy imposed upon us?"

Remus set down his mug, returning his gaze with an uncharacteristic intensity. "The answer, Xenophilius, is time."

A pause. "Time?"

"The figure behind the veil is in possession of a time-turner, unregistered. He has navigated the fields of time, Xenophilius, stepping back a full year. I've been with him for nearly two months. Preparing."

At this, Xenophilius met his intensity. "Preparing?"

Remus nodded. "Voldemort returns, Xenophilius. In less than ten months. We prepare for war."

A gravity fell upon Xenophilius' expression, a heavy expression akin to defeat. "You bring grave tidings, indeed."

"And yet it is against this backdrop that I bring my plea. Cornelius Fudge exercises total control over The Daily Prophet, and his staff is infiltrated with some of Voldemort's most ardent supporters. Unless you wish a fog to fall upon Britain, Xenophilius, The Quibbler must return to the table. The light must pierce the darkness." He faltered, just for a moment. "Such a darkness is falling, you must understand. This is the only way."

Something like resolve settled upon his features, and Xenophilius nodded slowly. "I understand. And I accept. It will take time, I think, and I haven't a clue yet how to prepare. But you have my support, Remus."

A moment of silence fell before Lupin spoke again. "There is one more thing, Xenophilius."

"Indeed?"

"Luna cannot know. She must remain ignorant of our machinations for another ten months." Remus exhaled at this, releasing the weight he'd carried from the moment he entered the room.

"Luna?" Xenophilius seemed suddenly divided, confused. "Truly?"

Remus merely nodded.

"This is an unexpected complication."

A moment passed in loaded silence.

"I know nothing, but I feel so much. I will support you, Remus, and I will accept the aid of this mysterious benefactor. I regret the distance that this will necessarily create between myself and my daughter. You're sure it's necessary?"

Remus nodded, and Xenophilius shook his head. Suddenly the weight he carried was palpable.