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Apr. 13th, 2015 07:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alt_poppyAlice, Remus, Albus, All:
First off: I'm safe, and have all my faculties and limbs intact.
I had, however, quite a close shave in Salisbury last night. Albus: Merridel Hedges is no longer one of ours.
I noticed the warding as soon as I entered the inn, but I didn't suspect it was anything more sinister than security to keep anyone from surprising them. In the event, it was rather more sinister, indeed.
The gathering began normally enough with people trailing in, sharing their own news and other people's, and there was the usual fuss about finding the programme on the wireless. There were a number of first- or second-time visitors, and there was lots of sharing about how they'd all first heard about the 'fugitive station' and how they'd come to learn about the listening parties.
And naturally, there was lots of chat about my being there, and how long it had been since this or that one had seen me, and stories of the accidents and ailments that had laid them up in the hospital wing all those years ago. And then, of course, they told how shocked they'd been when I'd had to leave the school. (No one ever speaks of Pomona, but there are mournful looks that say she's on the minds of many.) I was momentarily taken aback when the talk turned to that 'Professor Brutka', who'd come from France and turned out to be one of us. It's never come up, and to be honest, I'd forgotten that outside a small circle, no one knows that was you, Albus.
That topic passed, thankfully, as it was getting on towards time for 'The Tuckers', and several people wanted to know if I've met Ms Morgansen and were quite enchanted to think I had done. What is she like in person? Is she tall or tiny? Pleasant or annoying? Could I bring them signed copies of her books? Or her signature on a serviette, even? And then Merridel Hedges turned the questions to the programming and the presenters, and who else besides Astra Morgansen were writing for the shows? And where on earth were they broadcasting from? Was it one, fixed location or were they having to always be moving about?
... And somewhere in there I began to have a very bad feeling about where this might all be tending. But then the music came on and the recap of last episode, and everyone was buzzing about what an appalling thing Tertius Apsted had done, and whether we'd have to wait and wait to learn whether Susan Hopping is really Elbert Candle's daughter, and whatever is the story behind Norbert Veigle's limp?
Then, just as the first scene started, there was a scuffling beyond the door, and in burst the Watch. It was madness. People launched themselves every which way. Chairs overturned. Naturally, Apparition had been warded against. And the wards... they'd been set to hold in anyone who'd not been told the counter and given a key stone. I was fortunate that someone looked out for me in the midst of the chaos.
Spells flew. I was briefly Petrified and rolled under a table, but Harry Clover, kindly soul that he is, Finitéd the spell, and someone else hustled me to the cellar door, and then I was rushing down ladders and through tunnels, and out into the night. As soon as I could, I apparated away, and made several quite random hops until I honestly couldn't risk another. I'm out in the western reach of Northumberland now--out above Kielder water--in a trekker's bothy, and I believe I'll stay put here today. It's a peaceful spot.
About last night: I'm painfully certain it was a trap in which I was not only a target but the bait to draw others in. I'm afraid many of the newcomers were arrested and many of the established members. Certainly, their identities are now known to the authorities, and if they got clear, they won't have been able to go home. One fears for their families.
If there's anything we can do for them, I'd like us to try.
First off: I'm safe, and have all my faculties and limbs intact.
I had, however, quite a close shave in Salisbury last night. Albus: Merridel Hedges is no longer one of ours.
I noticed the warding as soon as I entered the inn, but I didn't suspect it was anything more sinister than security to keep anyone from surprising them. In the event, it was rather more sinister, indeed.
The gathering began normally enough with people trailing in, sharing their own news and other people's, and there was the usual fuss about finding the programme on the wireless. There were a number of first- or second-time visitors, and there was lots of sharing about how they'd all first heard about the 'fugitive station' and how they'd come to learn about the listening parties.
And naturally, there was lots of chat about my being there, and how long it had been since this or that one had seen me, and stories of the accidents and ailments that had laid them up in the hospital wing all those years ago. And then, of course, they told how shocked they'd been when I'd had to leave the school. (No one ever speaks of Pomona, but there are mournful looks that say she's on the minds of many.) I was momentarily taken aback when the talk turned to that 'Professor Brutka', who'd come from France and turned out to be one of us. It's never come up, and to be honest, I'd forgotten that outside a small circle, no one knows that was you, Albus.
That topic passed, thankfully, as it was getting on towards time for 'The Tuckers', and several people wanted to know if I've met Ms Morgansen and were quite enchanted to think I had done. What is she like in person? Is she tall or tiny? Pleasant or annoying? Could I bring them signed copies of her books? Or her signature on a serviette, even? And then Merridel Hedges turned the questions to the programming and the presenters, and who else besides Astra Morgansen were writing for the shows? And where on earth were they broadcasting from? Was it one, fixed location or were they having to always be moving about?
... And somewhere in there I began to have a very bad feeling about where this might all be tending. But then the music came on and the recap of last episode, and everyone was buzzing about what an appalling thing Tertius Apsted had done, and whether we'd have to wait and wait to learn whether Susan Hopping is really Elbert Candle's daughter, and whatever is the story behind Norbert Veigle's limp?
Then, just as the first scene started, there was a scuffling beyond the door, and in burst the Watch. It was madness. People launched themselves every which way. Chairs overturned. Naturally, Apparition had been warded against. And the wards... they'd been set to hold in anyone who'd not been told the counter and given a key stone. I was fortunate that someone looked out for me in the midst of the chaos.
Spells flew. I was briefly Petrified and rolled under a table, but Harry Clover, kindly soul that he is, Finitéd the spell, and someone else hustled me to the cellar door, and then I was rushing down ladders and through tunnels, and out into the night. As soon as I could, I apparated away, and made several quite random hops until I honestly couldn't risk another. I'm out in the western reach of Northumberland now--out above Kielder water--in a trekker's bothy, and I believe I'll stay put here today. It's a peaceful spot.
About last night: I'm painfully certain it was a trap in which I was not only a target but the bait to draw others in. I'm afraid many of the newcomers were arrested and many of the established members. Certainly, their identities are now known to the authorities, and if they got clear, they won't have been able to go home. One fears for their families.
If there's anything we can do for them, I'd like us to try.
no subject
Date: 2015-04-13 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-04-13 09:50 pm (UTC)