Chapter 290: Chapter 290: "The Order Reconvenes"
A few days after Harry's return from France, as he was practicing some particularly intricate wand movements in the Black Castle's training room, Sirius appeared with news. "First Order meeting tonight," he announced, leaning against the doorframe. "Care to join me? Might be interesting to see who shows up."
Harry lowered his wand, considering the invitation. "Could be enlightening," he agreed. "When do we leave?"
"An hour before dusk," Sirius replied. "Plenty of time for you to wrap up and get ready."
As evening approached, they Apparated to a quiet, nondescript square in London, standing before what appeared to be an empty gap between numbers eleven and thirteen. Harry frowned, experiencing a peculiar sensation as his memories of the place became fuzzy and indistinct. The building itself seemed to have vanished entirely.
"Fidelius Charm," Harry noted, impressed despite himself. "Dumbledore works fast."
Sirius's eyes twinkled with mischief as he handed Harry a slip of parchment. "Read this and memorize it."
The note, written in Dumbledore's distinctive, flowing script, read: "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."
As Harry committed the words to memory, the house materialized before them, squeezing itself between its neighbors like an unfolding secret. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place stood tall and foreboding, its dark façade looming over the quiet street.
They climbed the worn stone steps, and true to form, Sirius managed to trip over the troll-leg umbrella stand in the entrance hall. The resulting crash echoed through the house, triggering an ear-splitting shriek that made Harry smile for some weird reason.
"BLOOD TRAITORS! SHAME OF MY FLESH! HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!" a piercing voice screamed from behind heavy velvet curtains.
Harry turned to Sirius with raised eyebrows. "Wasn't your mother's portrait moved to the Black vault years ago?"
Sirius pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. Harry caught on immediately – this was one of his godfather's pranks, likely designed to "welcome" the Order members to their new headquarters.
The interior of Grimmauld Place bore little resemblance to the gloomy dwelling Harry remembered from the books or his first visit here years ago. Years of renovation had transformed it into an elegant, if slightly dark, townhouse. The serpentine fixtures remained, but they'd been polished to a gleam, and the overall atmosphere was more sophisticated than sinister.
"Wotcher, Harry!" a bright voice called out. He turned to see Nymphadora Tonks, her hair a vibrant shade of purple, weaving her way through the hallway.
"Hello, Nymphadora," Harry replied with deliberate cheerfulness. "How's life?"
Tonks's hair flashed red. "Don't call me that!"
"But I thought I had permission from our tutoring days," Harry said innocently. "You know when I helped you through your NEWT year?"
"That was a one-time deal, and you know it!" Tonks huffed, though a smile played at the corners of her mouth.
Sirius looked between them, feigning confusion. "When was this, and why don't I remember it?"
"It wasn't a secret. I think you just forgot," Harry replied. "Didn't you notice her clumsiness improved drastically in a year? I was responsible for that."
"Now that you mention it," Sirius mused, "it has been a while."
"Sorry, the training keeps me busy," Tonks said sheepishly.
"How is Auror training?" Harry asked, genuinely interested.
"Brutal," she laughed. "But Moody says I'm getting there. Though he still yells 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' at least twice a day."
As they moved further into the house, the scene became chaotic. Several Order members were frantically wrestling with heavy velvet curtains, attempting to silence the shrieking portrait. Kreacher hovered nearby, appearing to help but somehow managing to undo their progress at every turn. It seemed Sirius had enlisted his assistance to add to the mayhem.
"SHAME OF MY FLESH!" Walburga Black's portrait screamed upon seeing Sirius. Then, spotting Harry, her tone shifted dramatically. "Ah, young Lord Potter! At least one person in this house has proper breeding! Though you could do better than associating with my disappointment of a son..."
"Mother, always a pleasure," Sirius called out cheerfully, making no move to close the curtains. "I see you're giving our guests a proper Black family welcome."
"GUESTS?" the portrait screeched. "INVADERS! DESECRATING OUR NOBLE HOME WITH THEIR FILTHY PRESENCE!"
Molly Weasley, red-faced from exertion, attempted another charm on the curtains. "Sirius, dear," she said through gritted teeth, "couldn't you do something about this?"
"Oh, I couldn't possibly remove my dear mother's portrait," Sirius replied, the picture of innocence. "It would be disrespectful to the Black family heritage. Right, Kreacher?"
"Master Sirius is showing proper respect for once," Kreacher agreed solemnly, while 'accidentally' yanking the curtains open for the fifth time.
"BLOOD TRAITORS! SHAME OF MY FLESH! HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!" Walburga bellowed again.
Having had enough fun, Harry stepped forward with an amused smile. "Madam Black, you're looking as lovely as ever. I must say the new frame suits you."
The portrait's demeanor shifted instantly. "Young Lord Potter! So kind of you to notice. At least someone here appreciates proper aesthetics."
"Oh, come on," Sirius protested. "I'm the one who picked that frame!"
"Quiet, ungrateful child," Walburga snapped before turning back to Harry. "Tell me, dear boy, how is Lord Black? That man, at least, understands the importance of tradition."
"Always the exemplar of pure-blood dignity," Harry replied smoothly. "Though he did mention you were supposed to be residing in the family vault these days?"
"Ah, but I heard guests were coming, and as a proper hostess, I asked Kreacher to bring me here so that I could be accommodating," Walburga's painted lips curved into an almost playful smile. "Though I must say, the company my son keeps..."
"Now, Mother," Sirius interrupted, still grinning, "play nice with our guests."
Harry chuckled. "Madam Black, might I have your permission to close the curtains? I promise to visit properly another time when we can discuss how hopeless your son is at greater length."
"I'm standing right here!" Sirius complained, feigning indignation.
"Very well," Walburga agreed graciously, ignoring her son entirely. "Do keep him in line, Lord Potter. Merlin knows someone must."
As Harry drew the curtains closed with a respectful bow, he caught the astonished looks on the Order members' faces. Ron Weasley was muttering something that sounded like "mental, completely mental," while Hermione Granger observed the interaction with keen interest.
With the chaos subsiding, Harry took a moment to survey the assembled crowd. The kitchen was packed with familiar faces. The Weasleys were there in force, along with Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and various other Order members he recognized. The Longbottoms stood chatting with Emmeline Vance, while the Potters conversed quietly with Elphias Doge.
Twin cracks signaled the arrival of Fred and George Weasley, who appeared directly in front of Harry.
"Enjoying your newfound freedom to apparate?" Harry asked dryly.
"Absolutely!" they chorused.
"What about you, Oh Mighty Champion?" Fred asked.
"Must be nice having years of practice," George added.
Harry's smile held a hint of steel. "One of the perks of being abandoned and getting emancipated at eleven." He didn't look at the Potters, but he could feel them stiffen across the room.
The twins exchanged glances but quickly steered the conversation to lighter topics. Harry spent the next few minutes catching up with Neville Longbottom, who, despite growing braver over the years, still shuddered when he heard Harry discussing product ideas with the twins.
The arrival of Dumbledore, with Severus Snape trailing like a particularly ill-tempered shadow, signaled the start of the meeting. Almost immediately, Molly Weasley began herding the younger crowd toward the door.
"That includes you two," she told the twins firmly.
"But we're of age!" Fred protested.
"Barely," Mrs. Weasley retorted. "Being seventeen doesn't automatically make you ready for this!"
"I've faced Voldemort!" Charles Potter interjected heatedly, causing several people to flinch at the name. "I think I've earned the right to know what's going on!"
"I've helped research everything since first year," Hermione added. Turning to Sirius, she asked, "Speaking of which, would it be possible to access the Black library? For purely academic purposes, of course."
Sirius barked out a laugh. "Not a chance. The books in there are too dangerous for children. I wouldn't want any of you losing your hands while trying to read a book—and I mean that literally. Some of those tomes bite, and others do far worse."
As the teenagers were being escorted out, they spotted Harry standing calmly in the kitchen.
"But Harry gets to stay!" they protested in unison.
Before Molly could respond, Harry spoke smoothly. "Mrs. Weasley, with all due respect, you don't have authority over my movements. I'm here at Sirius's invitation. If my presence is unwelcome, I'm happy to leave—I have other matters requiring my attention."
"That won't be necessary, Mr Potter," Dumbledore interjected, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "You're quite welcome to stay. However, the others must have the permission of their parents."
The younger Weasleys, along with Charles, Hermione, and the other teenagers, filed out amid various degrees of grumbling and protest. As the door closed behind them, Harry took his seat between Sirius and Tonks, deliberately avoiding his parents' attempts to catch his eye. He noticed Sirius and Kreacher exchange a subtle nod of satisfaction—clearly, the evening's performance had gone exactly as planned.
Dumbledore rose, and the low murmur of conversation died away. "Friends, old and new," he began solemnly, "welcome to the first meeting of the reconvened Order of the Phoenix..."
Chapter 291: Chapter 291: "The Order's Agenda and Confrontations Part -1"
"Some of you already know why I've reconvened the Order," Dumbledore began, his voice echoing through the dimly lit kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The flickering candles cast long shadows, and the tension in the air was thick. "The Dark Lord, Voldemort has returned."
A shiver went through the gathered members. Some flinched at the mention of Voldemort's name, while others exchanged serious, knowing looks.
"For those who still doubt young Charles's account," Dumbledore continued, his gaze steady beneath his half-moon glasses, "Severus has confirmed Voldemort's resurrection through direct contact just a few nights ago. Voldemort is back and as dangerous as ever."
A heavy silence fell over the room. The weight of the situation hung over everyone, making their mission seem even more daunting.
"Unfortunately," Dumbledore went on, "we have major obstacles. The Ministry, especially Minister Fudge, refuses to believe this truth. He desperately hopes all of this will go away without damaging his political career and dismisses any evidence I show him."
He turned his gaze to Sirius. "Have the Aurors made any progress on this front?"
Sirius shook his head grimly. "None. Fudge won't move without what he calls 'concrete proof.' We've given him evidence—reports of known Death Eaters like Fenrir Greyback returning to the country—but he just finds excuses. He's convinced this is all some elaborate plot to undermine him." A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "He even suggested that you and Amelia are behind this to set yourselves up for the next Ministerial election. Unless Voldemort shows himself publicly—which he's careful to avoid—Fudge won't change his mind. And with him refusing to act, we can't take any preventive measures or prepare for war."
"Indeed," Dumbledore sighed, his face looking weary. "The situation at the Ministry gets more troubling by the day. Cornelius has surrounded himself with new advisors—people who have conveniently filled positions left empty by recent... losses in our world."
Harry caught the subtle reference to the dead Death Eaters. It proved that as Harry thought, Dumbledore was upset by their deaths.
"The new advisors are different from the old guard," Sirius added. "They don't have the experience or influence of their predecessors, but they're cunning. Every time Fudge dismisses a warning about Voldemort, they're right there, telling him exactly what he wants to hear."
"This leaves us largely alone in our fight," Dumbledore acknowledged, pacing slowly behind his chair. "The Aurors are caught up in political games, and the Unspeakables won't act without official orders. They're busy with their own mysterious work and rarely get involved in conflicts like this. Our mission is clear: we must stop Voldemort's efforts, protect innocent people, and prevent the spread of darkness."
He turned to Severus Snape, who stepped out of the shadows in the corner of the room. "Severus, please share what you've learned of Voldemort's plans."
Severus Snape stepped forward, his black robes billowing slightly as he moved into the light. His expression was hard to read, his dark eyes revealing nothing. "The Dark Lord plans to rebuild his forces quietly," he said, his voice smooth but tense. "He's especially interested in recruiting those the Ministry has pushed to the margins—werewolves, giants, and other magical beings who are angry at the current system. With his numbers down, he's eager to accept anyone willing to follow him."
"We have to stop this," Dumbledore said firmly. Turning to Remus Lupin, he continued, "Remus, I need you to reach out to the werewolf communities. Get information and offer them alternatives."
"Of course," Remus replied quietly, a hint of resignation in his eyes.
"Hagrid and Madame Maxime have already started a similar mission to the giants," Dumbledore added.
Harry noticed Snape's subtle reaction—a slight curl of his lip at the mention of werewolves. Old prejudices, born from past experiences, still lingered under his calm exterior.
"There's another serious matter," Dumbledore continued. "Voldemort wants the complete prophecy from the Department of Mysteries. His current knowledge is incomplete, and he believes the full prophecy might reveal something important."
Harry's interest piqued at the mention of the prophecy. He glanced at Snape and noticed a faint tightening around his eyes. Snape was a master of hiding his emotions, but Harry had spent years watching him. The mention of the prophecy clearly made him uneasy.
Having observed both Snape and his mother throughout his school years, Harry had serious doubts about the "eternal love" motivation from his book memories. Maybe that was true in the book, but here there was no love between them. Snape's situation was more complicated—a risky balancing act between two powerful wizards. Forced into this by mistakes from his teenage years, Snape was now stuck working for both sides, each capable of killing him at any moment.
Dumbledore went on, "We must make sure Voldemort doesn't get it. I suggest setting up a guard rotation to watch the Department and make sure the prophecy stays safe."
Harry cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Professor, but what exactly is this prophecy? I've heard about it so many times. Is it really that important?"
Harry knew the words from the book and didn't think the prophecy was all that important. The words were vague, and even if Voldemort knew what it said, nothing would really change. There would still be a battle. However, Harry wanted to see the prophecy for himself—just to be sure if it was about him and Voldemort. His birthday wasn't in July, which made it seem less likely, but considering the other details, like the soul piece, he was sure he was the prophesied child. He might need to confirm it once and for all.
Dumbledore regarded Harry with a steady gaze. "The prophecy is very important, Mr. Potter. It concerns Charles and Voldemort. For everyone's safety, I think it's best to keep the details confidential."
"Okay, let's assume the prophecy is important, though I don't think it is," Harry interrupted. "Why do we need to guard it? Only those named in it can retrieve it—like you said, only Charles and Voldemort. So unless you plan to guard it yourself, Headmaster, you're sending Order members to face a threat they can't handle."
"Harry's right," Sirius said immediately, his grey eyes flashing with conviction. "If Voldemort can get past Ministry security and the Department's defenses, what chance does a couple of Order members have? It would be suicide."Murmurs of agreement went around the table. Members who had fought in the first war nodded solemnly, their faces serious.
Dumbledore's expression tightened slightly—he wasn't used to having his plans questioned like this. After a moment, though, he nodded. "You make good points. I'll reconsider this plan and present an alternative at our next meeting." He paused, gathering his thoughts.
The tension in the room eased a little, but it was short-lived as Dumbledore changed the topic. "Now, about our efforts to identify the mysterious wizard who intervened at the graveyard..."
Harry's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Dumbledore's. "Excuse me? What exactly are you trying to do? Wasn't my testimony to the Wizengamot enough for you to understand?"
Dumbledore met his eyes steadily. "We need to know who this person is, Mr. Potter. Anyone capable of using such destructive magic without oversight could be a potential threat."
Harry's temper flared. "A threat? This person saved Charles's life, facing Voldemort and his Death Eaters alone. And you want to hunt him down like a criminal instead of thanking him?"
"Power that strong, used without control or accountability, is dangerous," Dumbledore said. "He took many lives that night. It was a significant loss to the wizarding world."
"A loss?" Harry said incredulously. "You're talking about some of the most ruthless Death Eaters—murderers who terrorized innocent people. Their deaths are a 'great loss'? Is there something wrong with your mind, Professor?"
"The individual had no right to take the law into his own hands," Dumbledore replied firmly. "Those wizards, despite their past actions, could have been apprehended and given a chance at redemption."
"Redemption?" Harry scoffed. "That's the most naive thing I've heard. These are murderers who showed no remorse. People died to stop them, and you're talking about redemption? Their victims would be rolling in their graves."
"No one has the right to act as judge, jury, and executioner," Dumbledore insisted. "He should have subdued them and let the Aurors handle justice."
"One wizard against Voldemort and his inner circle, and you expect him to take them alive?" Harry shot back, his voice rising. "That's not just unrealistic; it's absurd."
"Your defense of this individual is quite strong," Dumbledore observed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Is there something you'd like to share, Harry?"
Harry glared. "He killed those Death Eaters to save Charles's life. I can't believe you're supporting this, Lily and James."
"Harry," Lily said gently, her eyes pleading. "We understand how you feel, but Professor Dumbledore has a point. Power like that, used without limits, is concerning."
"Concerning?" Harry repeated, his gaze hardening. "That power saved your son's life. And now you're supporting a hunt for his savior?"
James stepped forward, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "Harry, we're just thinking about everyone's safety. We need to know who this person is."
"Don't patronize me," Harry snapped. "This isn't about safety. It's about control. Your leader can't stand the idea of someone powerful acting outside of his influence."
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