You won’t be able to kill any of them, ever again. Don’t you get it? I was ready to die to stop you hurting these people… They’re protected from you. Haven’t you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can’t torture them. You can’t touch them.

Harry Potter, DH, p. 591

Terry Boot got beaten up by Carrow for yelling about it in the Great Hall at dinner!

Neville Longbottom, DH, p. 461

I don’t know who breached the Statute of Secrecy to Pastor Evald. It might have been a disaffected wizard, but more likely it was a Muggle – a witch’s resentful ex-husband or a Muggle-born’s alienated brother. Someone who knew about magic but who had no loyalty to the magical community betrayed the Statute; and of course Evald completely misunderstood the story.

Evald rang my father in the first week of summer term. Dad deliberately flipped on the loudspeaker as soon as he knew it was my new pastor.

“Mr Boot, I’m curious about Terry,” said Evald. “Did he go back to boarding school this week?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. I have some concerns, that’s all. Terry and I had an interesting little chat over Easter, and I made a few enquiries. Are you aware, Mr Boot, what kind of a school your son attends?”

Dad winked at Mum and me and said, “I’m very well aware. I personally consented to his enrolment.”

“This will come as a shock to you, Mr Boot. I’m afraid I have to tell you that Hogwarts is a school for witchcraft and wizardry!”

We jolted. We don’t name Terry’s school outside the family; we simply refer to “a boarding school up north”. An outsider like Evald Harvey should not know about Hogwarts.

“So which of your relatives has a connection with Hogwarts?” asked Dad.

“None, praise the Lord! But I hope you understand what they mean by ‘witchcraft and wizardry’. It’s a training-ground for the Dark Arts and the occult! It is nothing less than the place where Satan has his throne.”

Dad laughed too loudly for kindness and stated, “We have no concerns about that. My wife and I don’t believe in Satan.”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” said Evald patiently. “I’m sorry; we haven’t met at church yet. It’s a pity that this should be our first conversation, and I realise you might not have been aware of the dark secrets of Hogwarts. I’m calling to tell you that I have researched the school, and a friend who knows many of its former students has told me that it’s a place of ritual abuse and Satan-worship. Your son is in grave spiritual danger – and quite likely in physical danger too.”

For a moment I imagined Terry as the star of a trashy horror-movie, his face gagged and his limbs bound up, surrounded by knife-wielding priests in flowing robes who demanded that he sacrifice a newborn baby if he didn’t want to become the sacrifice himself. The image was too sick to be taken seriously; I couldn’t help laughing.

Dad was apparently enjoying similar thoughts, but Mum was gesturing to him to finish the ridiculous conversation.

“Thank you, Pastor,” said Dad. “When they send us Terry’s skull filled with goat’s blood and dead newts, we’ll remember that you warned us. Until then – there’s no law against running around in black cloaks and shouting, ‘Hail, Satan,’ so I expect we’ll just have to put up with it.” He slammed down the receiver.

“Lucy, was that really your new pastor?” asked Mum.

I nodded. “We’re still... getting used to him. He’s not at all like Pastor David.”

“I should say not,” said Dad. “I liked old David. This new one sounds like a crackpot. If he’s running the show, Lucy, perhaps it’s time you looked for a new church!”

I don’t know how to explain to my parents about how churches work. Of course I can’t walk out on my whole community just because I don’t like the new pastor.

There, I said it. I don’t like him. Nor does half the youth group. We don’t have to like him; we only have to love him. We’ve said that to one another far too often over the last six weeks.

My parents are not Christians. They sent Terry and me to Sunday school years ago because they thought it would teach us to tidy away our toys and stop complaining about bedtime. But because of the witness of Anna Godwin, my dear first Sunday school teacher, I accepted Jesus Christ as my saviour after only a few weeks. Terry’s conversion followed about a year later. Mum and Dad don’t really understand that Jesus is a live person and that we’ve met Him, but they’ve been very tolerant about allowing us to keep going to church, even though that means church people (mainly the youth group) hang around our house nearly every day of the week.

However, when a church leader rings to inform them that their son’s school is full of Satanists who are training him up as a child-abuser... Well, that must be hard to take! I was very grateful that Dad was taking it as a joke and Mum was nothing worse than bewildered.

A couple of days later, Terry’s purple-eyed wood-owl brought me this letter.

Hi, Lucy,

How are you getting along with Pastor Evald? He struck me as rather young in his faith, but perhaps I still expect all pastors to be like David. I have to grow out of that.

Evald has just sent me a very long and rambling letter. The main points (I think) come to something like this.

I must stand firm in my faith and not be afraid of Satan because the blood of Jesus is more powerful.

I must resist all temptations to worship the Evil One, no matter how severely the Satanists abuse me.

Evald promises to get me rescued soon and will then bring all my persecutors to justice.

But should I not want to be rescued, I must bear in mind that I’m likely to go to Hell and therefore need to turn back to Christ immediately.

Very odd.

Have you any idea why he should think I’ve been abused by Satanists? If it comes to that, how does he know about Hogwarts? Michael says that perhaps he heard a rumour that Professor Snape was a Satanist. If so, the school’s standard counter-rumour is that Snape is actually a vampire.

In His love,

T

P.S. I definitely do not feel any temptation to worship Snape.

Evald apparently didn’t like whatever answer Terry sent him, because on Monday he telephoned me.

“Are you sure your parents can’t hear us? Good. Lucy, we need to talk. Come to the church office at four o’clock tomorrow.”

“Tuesdays are busy. Can we discuss it over the telephone?”

“This is an emergency,” he told me sternly. “No price is too high when your brother’s eternal life is at risk. A friend of mine spent the whole weekend in Scotland trying to locate Terry. Surely you can help him by doing such a little thing as travelling to the church office?”

Weakly, I agreed to go. I don’t have to like him; I only have to love him. I repeated the words to myself. I scribbled a note to Terry so he could pray for me; he might just have it by breakfast tomorrow.

There were several reasons why I didn’t want to spend Tuesday afternoon at the church office. The first was that the bike-ride from school to church, and then from church to home, would cut nearly an hour out of my day. When Pastor David wanted to talk to us, he used to save us the travelling time by visiting us in our homes. But Evald always summoned us to meetings in the church office. He isn’t necessarily bossy, I reminded myself. He’s just used to doing things differently. David had told us that we must be open-minded about adopting new customs for a new leader.

The second reason was that Tuesday always dealt me the heaviest load of homework. It was the April of my Year Eleven, and I was working towards a career in nursing, so my struggles with biology and chemistry were a serious matter. I didn’t expect to finish that night’s homework in less than five hours, and I wished Pastor Evald had chosen a different day for our meeting.

The third and most important reason was that I knew the interview would be a waste of time. Evald was worried about some rumour that Terry was dabbling in Satanism, and this simply wasn’t true. I knew I ought to relieve Evald’s fears, but why couldn’t I reassure him by telephone? By turning up at church, I was practically admitting that the problem actually existed.

Finally, I just didn’t like Evald. But that is not a reason, I told myself as I locked my bike to the church railings. I need to try harder with the people I don’t like. And what if something really has gone wrong with Terry? I hoped I could make this conversation short and return to my homework quickly.

Anna Godwin, who is now the church secretary, opened the door. Her smiles always make me braver; I wished I had time to tell her something about the problem, even though I would have to leave out all the parts about Hogwarts and magic. But Evald was already waiting for me, so Anna ushered me straight into his office. I felt like a disruptive pupil who had been condemned to the headmaster; Evald didn’t smile as he instructed me to sit down.

“Good afternoon, Lucy. First I must apologise for troubling your parents last week. I didn’t realise that they weren’t Christians. If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have called them to the spiritual battle.”

“Pastor,” I managed to say, “two-thirds of the teenagers at this church are from non-Christian families! But if you have a concern, I think you’re right to consult our parents first.”

“They couldn’t possibly understand,” he said, dismissing my parents with a wave of his arm. “I want you to know, Lucy, that you are not alone in this diabolical battle. I expect you didn’t know very much about Hogwarts when Terry was first sent there. If you found out afterwards... well, what a dreadful secret for a young girl like you to have to keep! And if you’re still not sure about what’s going on, I am now in a position to explain everything clearly. I’ve invited you here so you can be certain that we both know all about young Terry and that we will be waging this warfare together.”

Live at peace with all men, I reminded myself, including Pastor Evald. Before I start an argument, I must try to understand his point of view. I drew a steady breath and said, “Pastor, please explain your concern more specifically. Someone has told you that there is some kind of Satanism going on at Hogwarts. What exactly have you heard?”

“Your own father gave me plenty of information,” he said. “He openly admitted that Terry participates in rituals that involve bowing down to Satan, slaying goats and drinking blood out of human skulls. I wonder what else you know.”

“My father was joking! He made it up on the spot!”

“Did he? Well, perhaps that’s what he wants you to think. But it does rather corroborate what I heard from... Obviously, I can’t tell you my informant’s name; but he’s a very trustworthy friend who has had dealings with Hogwarts for nearly ten years. He tells me that the school exists exclusively to train up young witches and wizards. It does not confer Scottish Highers or any other accredited qualification; it has no legitimate educational goals at all.”

I couldn’t comment on that without mentioning magic, so I hummed.

“The curriculum requires the young acolytes to brew poisons, study the stars, speak to the spirits of the departed, practise levitation on symbolic broomsticks, breed abominable hybrid animals and sleep in communal dormitories. Hogwarts is ruled by fear, Lucy; there’s a dangerous mass-murderer who lurks on the edge of the school grounds, and any student who disobeys the Master Wizards is handed over to him for elimination. My friend says that a few teachers have thought better of their actions and rebelled against the Dark Arts; every year, without exception, one of these courageous teachers has been put to death.”

Oh. This was obviously not going to be a short conversation. Evald was so determined to misinterpret anything that anyone said about Hogwarts that I might well communicate better by saying nothing at all. But he was my pastor, and I had to work with him for several years to come, so I couldn’t just walk out and I couldn’t say anything that might upset him.

I tried to look earnest. “Pastor, I’m quite, quite certain that your informant has misinterpreted the situation. Hogwarts is a school of witchcraft, but I don’t think any of this adds up to Satanism.”

“Perhaps Terry personally hasn’t yet bowed down to Satan,” he conceded. “But that is of minimal comfort: he won’t have many alternatives if we leave him at Hogwarts. Witchcraft begins with nature-worship, but it always ends in open Satanism, complete with human sacrifice and the power to cast real curses on your neighbours. I know you’re a young person without much knowledge of the Bible, but it’s time to inform yourself. I’d like you to read a couple of books.” He handed over two dog-eared paperbacks.

I took them quietly, noting that he hadn’t suggested that I read the Bible itself. (In fact I already have. But Evald is always assuming that I haven’t.)

“So now it’s your turn to give information to me.” He leaned towards me, trying to look friendly, yet somehow he made me nervous. “Lucy, do you think your brother is at Hogwarts voluntarily? He could be a prisoner there. Evil magicians could easily trap and abuse a defenceless boy until they had forced him into submission. When you’ve read those two books, you’ll understand more about the evil supernatural powers that the Devil awards to those perverted souls who sell themselves to him. I promise you, if Terry is a captive, we will stop at nothing to break open the stronghold and rescue him by force!”

I tried to imagine Pastor Evald charging up to the invisible castle, breaking an entry through the magical barriers and fighting off three hundred wizards to rescue a magically-confined prisoner. Now, that was delusional! But Evald was not laughing, so I remembered my manners.

“You said your friend went to Scotland to look for Hogwarts,” I said. “He didn’t find it, did he?”

“You guess correctly. My friend was intent on locating Terry and persuading the poor boy to return home. But those wizards were so stubbornly hiding their dark deeds that they had lied about their address: Hogwarts wasn’t anywhere within a ten-mile radius of their claims. We shall never find Terry that way. That’s why I ask whether he’s a prisoner or whether he has some freedom to leave.”

“He was home for the Easter holidays,” I pointed out. “But it’s all right. Terry is definitely at Hogwarts voluntarily. He’s very happy there.”

“Do you think this is because he has accepted the magical philosophy and become a nature-worshipper? Or is it because he hasn’t discerned that the nature-worship exists at all?”

“Neither,” I said. “Terry is a Christian. He has been a Christian for seven years. If there were really any occult or nature-worship at Hogwarts, I know for a fact that he would have run away in his first week.”

“Young people are not always well-informed,” he said. “Your brother might be sincere, but does he really have the discernment to recognise such a structural evil?”

“If attending Hogwarts meant a life of sin – if there was something wrong with the whole system – something that by its nature a Christian shouldn’t do,” I said, “then Terry would have recognised it by now and he wouldn’t have stayed there. There have been two occasions already when he nearly came home because he was asked to compromise.”

“Indeed?”

“The first time was because the teachers seemed to be supporting a case of bullying. More recently he was pressured to tell a lie. Both times he decided to stay because a senior teacher supported him – a Mr Flitwick, who said Hogwarts needed students who would choose what was right over what was easy. Even though Mr Flitwick isn’t a Christian, he can see that Terry makes right choices and he supports him. Pastor, if anyone at the school were really involved with nature-worship, Terry wouldn’t agree to join in, and Mr Flitwick would support his right to refuse.”

“Lucy, I can hear that your brother means well and that he thinks he is a Christian. Perhaps he is. But the whole Hogwarts philosophy is nature-worship and paganism, and your brother is being contaminated by it every day – he can’t possibly avoid it. From what you say, he doesn’t even realise it’s happening. A girl like you can’t have read much of the Bible, but I’d like you to look up something in Deuteronomy – it’s in chapter eighteen.”

“I know what’s in chapter eighteen,” I said. “It forbids fortune-telling, necromancy and sorcery.”

“Exactly! Sorcery! Isn’t sorcery the same thing as witchcraft?”

I shook my head firmly. “No, certainly not.” He frowned, but I ploughed on. “What the Bible means by ‘sorcery’ is a pantheistic religion – maybe something a bit like the New Age movement? There’s no pantheism at Hogwarts. One of Terry’s friends is a Hindu and she complains that the teachers don’t treat the forces of nature with enough respect. She believes that stars and flowers are divine, but that wouldn’t occur to most of the teachers. And Terry is definitely not going to convert to Hinduism.”

“There is witchcraft at Hogwarts,” he repeated.

“They use the word ‘witchcraft,’ but it isn’t a religious concept. It’s just a word they use for their – ” What was a good synonym? “For their technology. Pastor, surely you know that one word can have several meanings. ‘Witchcraft’ can mean a kind of religion, but at Hogwarts it just means technology. Terry has had to ditch the traditional understanding of chemistry and physics and mechanics but he hasn’t changed on the crucial issue.”

Evald’s grimace actually made me shiver.

“Terry has always been very repentant and very certain of God’s forgiveness. Going to boarding school hasn’t weakened his faith at all: when his family couldn’t be there, he saw it as a challenge to rely all the more on God. There are only seven or eight Christians at Hogwarts, but they meet together for prayers nearly every day, and Terry often leads the Bible study. He says that he keeps on discovering that coincidence is proportional to prayer.”

“So Terry fancies himself as a leader.”

“Terry is a proclaimer. They all know he’s a Christian. He often has philosophical discussions with his classmates. One of his best friends is Jewish, and they’re always talking about God together. They read quite a lot of apologetics too. I know that because another friend, an Agnostic, has admitted he can’t find a flaw in their arguments.”

“Terry is certainly an intelligent boy,” said Evald, “but head-knowledge isn’t everything. Knowing about God can be a trap that prevents you from knowing Him. Has anyone explained to you, Lucy, that knowing God requires repentance?”

It was going to be uphill work convincing Evald that I was a Christian, let alone that my brother was! I prayed quickly for wisdom.

You don’t have to convince him.

The thought burst into my head like a thunder-clap. No, I didn’t have to convince Evald. I only had to state my case. If I couldn’t convince him, that wasn’t my problem.

Suddenly Evald’s friendly mask slipped, and he spoke sternly. “Lucy, let’s cut the waffle. The basic fact is this: your brother Terry has gained some kind of supernatural power at Hogwarts. Therefore he has made some kind of bargain with the Devil – even if he didn’t realise at the time what he was doing. So we need a three-point plan. First, get him out of Hogwarts. Second, put him in a safe place where he can be de-programmed. Third, bring him back to Christ. Surely a good Christian sister like you wants to cooperate with that plan!”

Evald hadn’t listened to a word I’d said! Since Terry was born a wizard, his powers are natural, not supernatural; they were not “conferred” by Hogwarts, and he definitely did not “buy” them in any kind of diabolical transaction! He did not need to come “back to Christ” because his discipleship had never deviated, and I had no interest in extracting him from his education at Hogwarts.

But Evald was the pastor, and I mustn’t cause divisions in the church. The issue at hand was how to remove myself from Evald’s office this afternoon before I caused permanent resentment by refusing whatever he wanted from me.

I sent up a prayer for help.

“I hope you realise the urgency of your brother’s peril,” he was saying. “You are the only person in this church who has contact with Terry, so you’ll be acting as the direct link for all of us. What we have to do is bring him home. Write him some excuse about why he is needed here, and – ”

He broke off as the office door flew open. Two strangers in bowler hats and pinstripe marched in and raised their wands.

“Obliviate!”

White lights flashed, and Evald looked dazed. One of the wizards kept him at wand-point while the other turned his wand to me. I gave a silent shriek to the Holy Spirit.

“Your name, young lady?”

“Lucy Caroline Boot.”

The wizard dropped his wand abruptly, and I found myself shaking with relief. “Miss Boot, since it was your brother who sent us here, you must help us. Do you know who told Evald Harvey about magic?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I only wish I did.”

He glanced resignedly at his fellow, then threw another white light at Evald as both wizards vanished into thin air.

Evald looked confused but he tried to pull himself together and save face. “So, Lucy... er... Thank you for your input about our youth group. I must be going now, but come back tomorrow. We’ll finish our little chat around four-thirty.”

I thanked God fervently. If Evald’s memory had been wiped of all mention of Hogwarts and magic, he would have forgotten our conversation too. He was embarrassed to have forgotten why I was there because he almost shooed me out of his office.

As soon as I was out in the foyer, I handed his paperbacks to Anna. “Can you take these away? I’ve already read them.” One was Audrey Irvine’s lurid fantasy, Dancing with Witches, which describes how a conspiracy of Satanists is taking over Europe. The other was Lorena Stafford’s debunked autobiography, The Devil’s Underground, which describes how a conspiracy of Satanists is taking over America.

“Goodness, what rubbish!” Anna giggled. “Surely Evald didn’t give you those!”

“I’m afraid he did. Do you remember how the whole youth group was reading them a few years back? I was terrified because I thought they were true stories! It was Pastor David who taught us all how to read critically, and he spent weeks helping us research the claims in these two novels.”

We learned from Pastor David that Audrey Irvine probably doesn’t exist. She writes that she is a famous Christian speaker, but she has never spoken at any major conference, and the Evangelical Alliance has never heard of her. She claims she used to witness ritual murders at the Coven of Satan, but there is no record of any police investigation – and surely an honest penitent would have reported murder? David pointed out that this story was probably never intended as anything more than a novel. On the other hand, Lorena Stafford is a real person. She has a long psychiatric record that ingloriously concluded when she married her psychiatrist. Her “autobiography” includes times, places and real names that can be checked, and because most of them have turned out to be false, her publishers have long since withdrawn her book. I wish we’d known all that before we first read it!

I had planned to go straight home, but when Anna started making me a cup of tea, I realised I needed it. I sat down in her office after all and told her, “I’m really bothered that an adult with a university degree can believe those tall tales about Satanic conspiracies are literally true. I think our church is heading for trouble.”

“Churches are always in trouble,” said Anna wisely. “They are full of sinners like you and me.”

“Anna, Evald wants me to return here tomorrow, but I really don’t want to come. I’m only a few weeks from my G.C.S.E.s, and I don’t think the conversation will achieve anything productive.”

Anna nodded and handed me the tea. “I’ll make your excuses. You’re not the first to learn that it isn’t at all wise to discuss books with Evald. He’s already taken the chronicles of Narnia off the church bookshelf.”

“What!”

“That’s no secret. He says that the magic wardrobe and resurrecting lion will lead children astray, and Christians shouldn’t read fantasy anyway.”

“But there’s fantasy in the Book of Revelation!”

“Sweetie, I didn’t want to get into an argument,” said Anna. “We have better things to do at church than argue about what anyone reads. For the record, Evald doesn’t like stories where the Christ-figure is associated with magic. So Lord of the Flies is all right – because Simon just dies; but Lord of the Rings is taboo – because Gandalf resurrects.”

“Gandalf resurrects,” I recalled, “but he doesn’t make much of an atonement. Nor does King Arthur; he’s simply... expected to return one day. That’s what I loved about Narnia. Aslan pays the price of evil and he resurrects and brings hope. The salvation story was so clear to children who’d never otherwise hear it.”

“It’ll be a long time before any children’s writer produces another book like Narnia,” Anna agreed. “I’m still waiting for a fantasy where the hero’s death saves his friends, but only his friends, and then he resurrects and defeats evil without using violence. If the author could write it all so it wasn’t too obviously an allegory, that would be a story worth reading. People would be talking about it for years.”

I didn’t bother remarking that if a story like that ever was written, people like Evald would probably want to burn it.