Kapitel 62: The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn
Darcie and Madam Villanelle had taken the comfortable chairs near the fireplace after having a sumptuous dinner.
To Darcie's right, the fire blazed red and blue, sending ripples of warmth.
She couldn't believe it even now. It all felt like a fairytale come true to her; mysterious and unbelievable.
And she was a witch.
The source of her struggling gaze laid to her left. There, a few hands apart, the two ghosts were "seated" in high-back chairs, puffing out smoke from their pipes.
Darcie glanced at them from the corner of her eyes for the umpteenth time.
To her left was the ghost of A. E. Waite, the famous co-creator of the Rider–Waite tarot deck and a prominent writer of mystical subjects.
To Madam Villanelle's right, and diagonally across from her, was the ghost of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the famous writer of the Sherlock Holmes detective series.
Or that's what she had thought.
Not only these two ghosts were what all believed them to be, but they were also more than that.
Darcie sipped the hot tea in her hands and realized how unnerved she had become.
She took a deep breath to regain her calm and composure. Darcie was little, but not ordinary. She knew her strengths and weaknesses. She must not let these ghosts intimidate her; Darcie knew this as well. "I read the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn was disbanded," she said, her voice thin and crisp. "I also read that both Sir Doyle and Mr. Waite had distanced themselves from the Order. But I never knew, or read anywhere, that you two were… Wizards!"
"Haha!" Sir Arthur Conan Doyle boisterously laughed. "Just call me Arthur, Darcie."
"Waite will do for me." The ghost holding the book smiled at her.
"This true organization differs from the ones you have read about, Darcie," Madam Villanelle told her, sipping warm wine. "Forget everything you know about its muggle front. It's a secret society, even among the wizarding community, that directly comes under the leadership of Orange Seat, and it's also assisted by Purple Seat. You can even say that the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn is a sub-order of the Order of the Immortal Lotus."
All present in this richly furnished sitting room knew the existence of the six eminent figures and the Order to which they belonged. So, mentioning theirs and the Order's name was of no issue here.
"It doesn't mean what you have read about us is wrong," Sir Arthur chimed in, blowing out smoke. "But that's only a little, and slightly manipulated, part of our lives."
The ghost of Mr. Waite nodded.
"The Golden Dawn has two Circles, Darcie," Madam Villanelle continued. "Each Circle is headed by its Chief. Only the most exceptional wizards and witches can become members of these Circles. The only issue is that no matter how confidential one tries to be, there are always chances of someone finding out about the Immortal Lotus through them. So, to avoid all such advances, everything about the members of the Hermetic Order has either been given a believable muggle front or completely erased from the records."
Darcie knew where this was going. "Memory Charms?"
Madam Villanelle smiled.
Darcie drew a sharp breath, knowing well the scale on which they would have needed to do the magic to make these things possible. Once again, she found herself incapable of truly gauging the reach of the Order of the Immortal Lotus.
"How many members does the Golden Dawn have?" Darcie asked.
"The question should be, how many members does the Golden Dawn have left?" Mr. Waite corrected, puffing out smoke. "Well, there are the two of us. Among the living, there are four more; two each in a Circle. Rest are dead, unlike us."
Darcie thought better than asking for the names of the four members when it felt obvious that they didn't want to share. Not now, at least.
"Waite is the Chief of the 2nd Circle," Madam Villanelle introduced, now more formally. "He is an expert Diviner, with a specialization in tarot card reading and Geomancy. His command over Hermetic Kabbalah and its interrelation with the Classical Elements is still unmatched. Not to mention, he is a great Astrologist as well."
The ghost on Darcie's left smiled. "Now, now," Mr. Waite said, chuckling, "you didn't mention my grasp over Dark Magic, Blood Magic, Necro—"
"Waite!" Sir Doyle thundered, almost flying off his chair. "Control your ghostly self, will you?"
"I was merely correcting her," A. E. Waite's ghost said, smiling amiably.
Darcie's eyes widened. In front of her, the corner of Madam Villanelle's lips twitched ruefully.
"Ahem!" the older witch cleared her throat. "Arthur is the Chief of the 1st Circle," she introduced. "He is an expert Scryer and a researcher of the lost art of Astral Travel. With his mastery over Herbology and Potioneering, Arthur's status is no less than a Grand Healer."
"Little girl!" Sir Doyle sharply rebuked Madam Villanelle. "You don't know half of it, do you? You didn't even mention the two things which I was and am famous for. Runology and Mind! Darcie, I am second to none in the art of Occlu—"
"Arthur…" The ghost of Mr. Waite was still smiling, but one could see his ghostly fingers tightening over the book in his hands. "You are forgetting manners, old friend."
Darcie was gobsmacked. She mechanically looked toward her mentor, who had gone red in shame.
Now she understood why Madam Villanelle had been so troubled regarding these two ghosts' personalities.
Both were greater braggarts than the other.
Yet, no matter how stunned, Darcie hadn't failed to notice the words spoken by either of them… and the words that almost came out but left unspoken.
Occlumency!
The word raged in Darcie's mind. Could she truly learn this ancient art from the best? Had the time come, finally?
Madam Villanelle tapped on her wineglass to bring attention toward her. "Darcie, you must know by now that Ghosts can't use Magic, per se," she told her, a bashful smile lingering on her lips. "Arthur and Waite will teach you the basics as per the Six's instructions. Not to mention, they both are adept in Alchemy and its countless applications. Moreover, I will be here with you all the time during your training to help you with magic. What? You didn't think I would leave you alone with two old men, did you?"
Darcie did not know what to say. "Thank you, mentor," she said, at last, knowing well that with Madam Villanelle with her, she could use her wand, no matter how poorly.
"You sounded like the deal's done," Sir Arthur Conan Doyle remarked, puffing out smoke. Then he pointed the mouth of his pipe toward Darcie. "We two have heard a lot about you, young lady. All praises, of course. But we have our own standards."
Mr. Waite's smile had all but vanished. "Arthur's right, I am afraid," he told her, not unkindly. "The two Secret Chiefs have commanded us to see to your training in many aspects, but… unless you meet the quality we need in a student, we can't accept you in the Hermetic Order and our midst."
"Now…"
"Madam Villanelle." Sir Arthur cut in, raising his hand. "It was the sole reason we didn't train you in the past as well."
'What?!' Darcie's eyes widened. 'They even refused to accept a biblical reincarnated witch?!'
Madam Villanelle gave Darcie a helpless smile.
"It's for Darcie's good only," Mr. Waite added, his tone calmer than Sir Doyle's. "If she lacks compatibility with our teaching methods and thought process, then this training would only do her more harm than good, madam."
"It's not the time to soften your words, old friend," Sir Arthur Conan Doyle glided up. "Darcie, if you want to learn from us, then recommendations, no matter from whom they have come, are not enough. You must prove yourself to us. You must show us your understanding, problem-solving and logical deduction skills, and your attitude toward the unknown and unpredictable scenarios. Do you accept it?"
Madam Villanelle had gone awfully quiet suddenly.
Darcie gave her mentor a look and threw herself off the chair. There was nothing but calm and composure on her face, but her heart was pounding with excitement.
Why wouldn't she accept it? "I accept all challenges, Arthur."
Why wouldn't she show-off here, in front of these two scholars? "I want to learn… everything."
Why wouldn't she go all out when…
"I think," Darcie mumbled, stepping in, "we are fated with each other."
*********
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