The King of Thieves

Chapter One

They listened as a stranger approached, his footsteps muffled in the foggy night. He might be the next victim, or he could be a business associate. They waited until he was near and then stepped out to face him.

Not the man. No hat, tattered coat, clothing that probably came from a thrift store. This was clearly a waste of their time, but since they were there...

"Your money is all we want, then you can go," the tall one said.

They were surprised to see a wry smile. "I don't have much. You're wasting your time."

"Hand it over."

"I would like you to reconsider," he informed them.

They laughed, and advanced toward him.

He pulled his wand out swiftly, and used it. They were now immobile, and he quickly relieved them of all their cash and valuables. Then he erased their memory, leaving them slightly disoriented. By the time they had any idea that something may have happened, he was far away, walking and whistling, amazed at the coincidence that had filled his pockets with cash.

Now that Evelyn was dead, and had no need of new clothing, nor could she change from the ceremonial deerskin she had chosen for her death, she and Hermione had found a new use for the magic wardrobe she had received as a gift from her uncle. Any house-elf wishing to be free had only to find Ev, Ginny, or Hermione. The bashful little things need not say a word. A house-elf standing before Ev would be led to Evelyn's old rooms, which were left as they were and would belong to her as long as she "lived" at the castle, just as Severus retained his rooms in the dungeon.

Ev would then coax the creature to imagine clothes it might like. And the wardrobe would provide, as always.

On this day, however, no elf was being given freedom with a lovely new garment. Today Ev was helping Sybil, Hermione, and Ginny choose something for the Halloween party.

During the "shopping," which had quickly been becoming a sort of party also, all four women suddenly became quiet. Evelyn cocked her head to one side and spun slowly in a circle. Ginny closed her eyes and put a look on concentration on her face that would stop even Fred and George from disturbing her. Sybil hung her head, her hair hiding her face, her hands limp in her lap. Hermione watched the others, making mental notes.

After a few moments, Ginny looked up at Ev. Then Sybil did also. Ev shook her head. Quietly, Sybil poured more tea, and they sat down. They waited.

Suddenly Ev shook her head. "The TV!" she shouted.

Sybil looked at Ev in confusion, but Hermione raced to the remote and turned on the telly, which Severus had tinkered and toiled with until he had the whole thing running on no electricity, but magic, including the satellite receiver, and the DVD player. He had also altered her stereo. Hermione glanced at Evelyn, and then began switching swiftly through the channels, while explaining to Sybil and Ginny how a telly worked and that Evelyn called it a TV because she was from the US.

When they came to a news channel, Ev instructed Hermione to stop there.

They continued drinking tea as they watched impatiently. Sybil and Evelyn were jumpy and jittery, but Ginny displayed a poker face, and and behaved as if they were waiting for a pie to come out of the oven. Hermione quietly watched the others.

After sports, and a story about the miraculous rescue of some children trapped after a hurricane, came a story of a sort of Robin Hood character that stole from those who tried to rob him. None had any memory of the actual incident. He then gave money and other "stolen" items to the homeless, and destitute. There were not many interviewees, being either criminals he had stolen from, or homeless, naturally hesitant with authority figures. But the ones who did speak claimed to have never seen his face, and were unable to provide a decent description. In fact, they could, or would, give no details at all.

The four women exchanged glances. There is something to this story...

The story had caught the attention of the public when one of the street robbers had come home desolate to find his grandmother with her rent money he had been so desperately trying to raise, albeit illegally. She had claimed a very soft-spoken gentleman in a hooded cape had knocked on her door, and then given her the money, asking in return only that she someday help someone in great need. She would give no description, claiming she had not seen the man's face. This story spread like fire and soon the newshounds were beating a trail to her door.

"So he was kind of like Robin Hood then?" the reporter had asked.

"Robin Hood?" her wayward grandson had scoffed. "I heard Robin Hood was the prince of thieves. This guy is the king!"

Then the four women gasped when the TV flashed a sketch of the subject, given by one person who had seen him and gotten away. The picture, of course, could have matched a thousand faces, but to anyone who knew him, the scars across his face proclaimed him none other than Remus Lupin.

"Excuse me, Sybil, Ginny, Hermione. Please continue with your tea." She smiled. "I must speak to my uncle, and I'll be right back."

Evelyn left her room and soon encountered another ghost.

"Good evening, Evelyn," he said.

"Good evening, Sir Nicholas," she replied quickly. "Have you seen my uncle?"

"In his office, my dear," Nicholas answered.

"Thank you, Sir Nicholas. I don't mean to be rude, but I must speak to him at once." She was swiftly drifting toward Albus's office as she spoke.

"Not at all, dear," he called after her.