Happy New Year to everyone. Here's to hoping this year will be better than the last.
And from
@AutumnSouls: We know this fic started off lighthearted and it's sort of going in the other direction right now, but we still plan to keep humor a large part of this fic going forward. The plot just turned serious somehow. Whoops.
~~~~~
The sun beat on Harry's neck as he worked on Aunt Petunia's garden in the backyard. It was a few weeks into summer and he was already miserable — was on the first day, really.
"Boy!" yelled Uncle Vernon from the door, his face twisted in displeasure. "Someone's come to see you. Get up!"
Sighing, Harry got up, stretching his back, and walked to the house. Inside, he found someone familiar, though it took him a moment to recognize her. Lyra Malfoy sat in Vernon's chair, lounging in it like she owned it; her pale-blonde hair was smooth and straightened for once, and she wore round sunglasses and a black leather jacket. Compared to other wizards he'd seen attempt muggle fashion, she was downright
cool. Though Harry knew Vernon hated it.
"I've gotta say," said Lyra, lowering her sunglasses to look over them, "this 90's fashion
slaps."
Slaps, mouthed Vernon, looking baffled and slightly horrified.
Harry knew better than to respond to Lyra's nonsense. Usually it would just baffle him, her odd slang and absurd behavior, but now he was actively looking forward to it. If he was lucky, Vernon might drop dead of shock. As it was, Vernon was eyeing Lyra in his chair with barely-concealed disgust. As if reading his thoughts — and she very well might've been — Lyra sunk further into it and spread herself out.
"What?" she said when Vernon and Petunia stared.
Harry laughed.
Vernon's head snapped to him, turning red already, then back at Lyra.
"What —" he began, mustache bristling, "— I —
who are you?" he snapped. "Are you one of those — those —"
"Lesbians?" said Lyra innocently.
Aunt Petunia recoiled, face twisting into disgust, and Uncle Vernon turned purple, having trouble speaking.
"
No," he said, as if it hurt him to even reply to that. "I mean, one of
his kind." He pointed to Harry, as if she needed clarification.
"Ah," said Lyra, pushing her sunglasses up her nose and raising her chin. She continued to stare at him, looking unimpressed; Harry at least assumed she was staring at Vernon, but he couldn't see her eyes.
"
Well?" exploded Vernon when the silence dragged on too long. "What do you want? Why are you here? Have you come to take him?"
In a flash Lyra stood up, whipping her sunglasses off her face, so smoothly she probably practiced it earlier. Aunt Petunia jumped back, her disgust turning into fear, and Uncle Vernon took a step in front of her, as if he could do anything to protect her. Harry knew that if she wanted, Lyra could kill the both of them in a fraction of a second. It was an odd thing to think, that this fifteen-sixteen-year-old girl could so easily smite the whole neighborhood.
"I have," she said finally, letting the words hang, "indeed come to take Harry away. Unfortunately, not permanently. But" — she shrugged carelessly — "Voldemort might be back, so, y'know, Harry's gonna need your magical protection for a few more years."
Both Vernon and Petunia flinched at the use of the word
magical.
"Magical protection?" interrupted Harry.
Lyra frowned down at him. "Thought you knew. Yeah, Dumbledore put an old spell over Little Whinging, tied to you and Petunia — protects you from Voldemort or anyone tied to him. Even a muggle hired by him wouldn't be able to get to you here."
Harry was a little annoyed he hadn't known this. It would've been good to know staying here at least protected him from Voldemort and his forces.
"Anyway," said Lyra, "I'll be taking him now." She hooked her arm around his and pulled him along to the door. "He'll be back next summer. If it wasn't for Voldemort, his godfather would have taken him in. He just got out of maximum security prison, you know, so he has plenty of time on his hands. We're going to go visit him now, actually." She turned to Harry. "Dumbledore was fine with me picking you up."
Utterly stupefied, and likely terrified, Petunia and Vernon stood rooted to their spot as Lyra guided Harry out of the house. His mind, too, was swimming.
Godfather?
"Ah," said Lyra, stopping at the door and pulling out her wand. "Let's not forget your stuff, Harry.
Accio!"
And with numerous loud crashes, a splintering of what must've been a door, and the squawking of Hedwig, all of Harry's things came flying down the stairs. His trunk stopped to float in front of them, the lid open as his clothes and other possessions piled into it. Hedwig's cage came flying in too, but without Hedwig.
"I opened the window in your room," said Lyra, reading his mind. "Hedwig will find her way."
His broom was the last to shoot into his trunk, which shut closed and shrunk to the size of a snitch and then leapt into Harry's pocket.
Lyra smiled, satisfied, and turned to the Dursleys who watched on in greater horror. Harry could tell through his mess of thoughts that she was feeling unholy glee at their reactions.
"Right then," she said. "Until next time!
Au revoir!"
They both stepped outside. Harry was ready to question Lyra, to ask if she was allowed to do all that — perform all that magic — and about his godfather, who he hadn't known had existed until now — and then he saw in front of the house Narcissa Malfoy, looking down her nose at all of Petunia's flowers.
"So simple," she said, as if insulted by the lack of extravagant flora.
"Ministry gave my Mum permission to perform magic here," said Lyra, "but they never know who precisely is doing the magic, so —" She shrugged. "Time to go, Mum!"
Mrs. Malfoy turned to them.
"Ah, finally," she said, and smiled at Harry. "Hello, dear. Are you ready to go, then?"
Harry opened his mouth but nothing came out, so he just nodded.
"Information overload," said Lyra, then she wiggled her arm at her mother. "Let's go."
"Very well," said Mrs. Malfoy, grasping Lyra's hand. "Ready yourself, you two."
Harry had no idea what to ready himself for as Lyra grabbed his arm —
Then her arm twisted away and everything went black. He was pressed hard against nothing and everything from all directions, unable to breathe as his eyeballs were forced into the back of his head — and then —
He gasped as he landed on his knees, palming the concrete below him. After a moment of gulping down air, he looked up and saw they were no longer in Privet Drive. Harry had Apparated for the first time in his life.
They stood in some square in what Harry thought was London. It might have been impressive in its heyday, but such times were long gone. The fences were rusted, the windows — those that existed, at any rate — were covered in grime. The few occupied homes, visibly cleaner, brighter, and neater, provided a stark contrast between the maintained and the abandoned townhouses.
Mrs. Malfoy inhaled deeply as she stared at the building in front of her, and she smiled fondly.
"It's been quite a while since I've been here," she said, taking in the street and the unwelcoming houses with their broken windows, as if there was anything to even be fond about. Then she caught Harry's expression and laughed. "Oh I know, dear. It's certainly seen better days."
Mrs. Malfoy pushed open a creaky gate with a gloved hand, avoiding the worst spots of jagged rust. She strode to the door, numbered 12 with gold plates, covered in enough dirt that it looked more like bronze. She picked up the gargoyle-shaped knocker and knocked three times.
The door cracked open, still mostly closed by the chain.
"Oh, it's you," said a voice, slightly gravelly. Then the door shut, the sound of chains clinking, and opened fully. In the doorway stood a tall man with long black hair and gray eyes which reminded him of Draco. He was clean-shaven and dressed well, but his sunken cheeks and dark eyes gave the general appearance of a man recovering from something awful.
"Hello, cousin," said Mrs. Malfoy. "Have you been keeping up with your diet?"
"Bugger the diet," he grunted. "I'm not eating anything Kreacher makes."
"Well," sighed Mrs. Malfoy, "at least you haven't murdered the house-elf."
"Yet," he said darkly.
Lyra snorted, and the man turned to her.
"Oh, another relative," he said, his tone warmer as his eyes looked over her face. "She takes after you, Cissa.
Thankfully."
"Indeed," said Mrs. Malfoy, her tone slightly cooler. "And I'd thank you to keep your comments to yourself."
Sirius chuckled to himself, then finally seemed to notice Harry standing partly behind Lyra. He stilled. Harry felt a little uncomfortable under the stranger's scrutiny, but the man broke into a small smile. Despite how small it was, Harry knew it was genuine.
"Harry," he said warmly. "This isn't the first time we've met, though you wouldn't really remember me. You weren't even able to walk back then."
Harry blinked, then caught Lyra's small jerk of her head, hinting something.
"Meet your godfather," she said softly.
"Oh," said Harry, something twisting in his chest. "Um... Nice to meet you, sir." He held out his hand, but Sirius stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.
"Please — just call me Sirius," said his godfather, shaking it surprisingly firmly for a man so thin. "My father fancied himself a 'sir.' And he was a prick of the highest order."
Harry smiled slightly then, and Sirius grinned. Then, surprising him a little, Sirius hugged him. Harry awkwardly patted his back; beaming as he pulled back, Sirius didn't seem to notice Harry's nervousness.
"Merlin, you look almost exactly like James when he was younger," he said. "Maybe I can tell you some embarrassing stories."
Harry gave a more genuine smile this time. "That sounds nice."
"You'd best take his boasts with a grain of salt, dear," Mrs. Malfoy said. "He likes to paint himself as the hero, when in reality he was the menace."
"You were hardly better yourself," said Sirius, turning to her. "You just didn't find amusement in inflicting terror."
"As you did?" said Mrs. Malfoy dryly.
"Hey, you okay?" whispered Lyra as Sirius and Mrs. Malfoy loosened up in their banter.
"I — yeah," said Harry. "It's just a lot."
"He was in Azkaban for the last decade," she said quietly. "For a crime he didn't commit. That's why you haven't met him until now. He's been out the last two years, but in St. Mungos — magical hospital — recovering. You've heard of Azkaban, I'm sure."
"I've heard you talk about being tossed in yourself," said Harry. "A lot."
"Yeah, it's not…" Lyra grimaced, looking back at Sirius. "I joke, but it's not funny, really. It's patrolled by dementors, which I've told you about. People go insane there. Just — just keep that in mind when you talk to him."
"You two," said Mrs. Malfoy, pulling them out of their conversation. She gestured inside, where Sirius had stepped to the side to allow room.
"Welcome to Grimmauld Place, Harry, Lyra," said Sirius. "One of the Black family's many homes, and the place where many memories were made. Most of them bad ones, but still."
They made their way inside, looking around at the dark interior of the home. Lyra especially seemed interested, taking in every detail.
"So, Harry," said Sirius, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I've been cleaning this place out for a while now. A lot of the rooms are empty, though — so I figured I'd make one of them yours. You could visit whenever you'd like that way. Want to see?"
"Sure," Harry said, and followed Sirius up the stairs. On the second floor was a corridor lined with bedrooms; Harry noted the dimensions of this home were much larger on the inside than what he could see from outside. Sirius paused in front of the two doors at the far end of the corridor, on either side of an old wooden table with a fine vase sitting on it.
"This is my room," Sirius said, nudging the left door with his foot. "I use it as an office sometimes, so if you need me, I might be in here. And this" — Sirius turned the knob to the right door — "is yours."
Harry was overcome with red and gold as he entered.
The room was more Gryffindor-ish than the Gryffindor common room. Scarlet banners hung from the bed, from the window-frames, above the desk — everywhere. The bedspreads were red and the pillowcase was gold. One wall was dominated with moving photographs. Harry looked closely, his eyes widening at the familiar faces. Some of them had Hagrid and a few professors, though much younger than they were now. Some were recognizably Sirius, though less thin. Others were men wearing glasses and sharing Harry's messy black hair; others were kind-looking women with wavy red hair, waving to whomever had been behind the camera…
Harry felt his eyes sting with emotion and his heart pound with something like heartache.
"That was… Merlin, seventeen or so years ago," Sirius said, brushing his fingers against one photo. It had Harry's mum and dad, both dressed in knitted woolen clothes, standing in a park with a small layer of snow. "This was a couple of hours before your dad proposed to your mum. James wanted to go see the sunrise with her, but he accidentally slept in so he decided to go watch the sunset instead."
Harry couldn't help but laugh at that, his voice filled with warmth and happiness and that ever-present bit of sorrow for his parents. Sirius didn't miss it; he put his arm over his shoulders and squeezed gently.
They stood in silence for now, Sirius probably knowing that if he talked more about Lily and James, Harry's dam might break and he'd be embarrassed for it.
"But yeah," Sirius said eventually, Summoning a box of tissues and plopping it on the bedside table. "I thought I'd give you a room here. You'll always be welcome with me, after all. If you want to redecorate, though, let me know and I'll help. I'm many things, but an interior decorator is not one of them."
"Thank you," said Harry, his voice cracking a little, "but no. I want to keep it this way."
Sirius smiled. "As you wish."
"Who's this?" Harry asked, pointing to a somewhat tired-looking, but nonetheless happy man in a group photo from New Year's Eve.
"Ah, that's Moony," said Sirius. "Remus Lupin. Old friend of mine, and your father's. He's always turned down my invitations, but I don't think he'll want to miss meeting you."
The stood in comfortable silence for a while. Eventually, Harry had Sirius Unshrink his trunk and then shoved it underneath the bed. Then he took one last look around the room and then to Sirius.
"Thank you, Sirius," he said.
Sirius waved him away. "It's not a problem."
Harry fell to Sirius' side as they made their way back downstairs. "You and Lyra are related, right?"
"Yeah, she's my niece or something, I suppose. The daughter of my cousin. Why?"
"Do you all have star names?"
"Lyra's a constellation," said Sirius. "Or have you not been paying attention in Astronomy?"
"Not really."
Sirius chuckled under his breath. "I don't know about who's teaching these days, but it was a waste of time for me. Rather be in bed."
They came to the bottom floor, stepping into the kitchen. Harry was immediately captured by Mrs. Weasley, who crushed him in her warm embrace. The woman stepped away then, looking him up and down with a beaming smile.
"Oh, Harry dear, it's lovely to see you again," she said, fussing over his clothes and hair. "You must have been
miserable with those muggles…"
"Good to see you too, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, a little amazed. "What are you doing here?"
Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips briefly. "Hm. Headmaster Dumbledore called for a meeting, you see," she said. "Gathering up the old guard, I suppose... and recruiting new members, such as me and Arthur. Things are quite hectic right now."
Harry blinked, but Mrs. Weasley didn't elaborate. He turned to Sirius instead, who shrugged noncommittally. Before he could say anything, two redheads stumbled into the kitchen, bumping into Sirius and earning a glare of disapproval from Mrs. Weasley. Ron blinked at Harry, then grinned.
"Blimey," he said. "You're here! I've been waiting for
days."
"You ought to learn some patience, Ronald," said Mrs. Weasley.
"Nevermind that, he's finally here!" Ron exclaimed, drawing a smile from his mother. "How's it been, mate?"
Harry shrugged, catching Ginny's eyes. Ginny blushed, as she always seemed to do in his presence. Sirius raised a singular eyebrow that made Harry shift uncomfortably. Ron looked to and from his friend and his sister, and pulled a face.
"Ginny, stop ogling Harry."
"I'm not!" Ginny said, her face a furious red.
"Ron, be nice to your sister," said Mrs. Weasley, sharing a small smile with Sirius.
"Yes, mum," Ron said, sounding like he wanted to roll his eyes.
As Ginny fled, Mrs. Malfoy stepped into the kitchen, crowding it once more.
"Cousin," she said, glancing back at Ginny's fleeing form with a frown. "I believe Alastor Moody is here with the Headmaster. He demands to know what your first punishment was as an Auror trainee for putting laxatives in his tea."
Sirius rolled his eyes and left the room, grumbling,"Why does he insist on passwords and secret questions
every single time?"
An awkward air permeated the room as Molly Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy failed to look each other in the eyes or come up with a topic of conversation. Ron and Harry glanced at each other. Eventually, Mrs. Weasley took the initiative.
"Tea?" she asked.
"That would be lovely, thank you," said Mrs. Malfoy.
Mrs. Weasley seemed grateful for the distraction, bustling to put a kettle to boil. Meanwhile, Mrs. Malfoy crossed and uncrossed her arms, staring at nothing in particular. Ron looked at Harry again.
"Ron, dear, head on back up," said Mrs. Weasley without turning to face him. "I'm sure the Headmaster wants to talk to Harry."
"Alright," Ron said with a sigh. "I'll see you in a bit, then, Harry."
Mrs. Weasley handed Mrs. Malfoy a steaming cup.
"Thank you," Mrs. Malfoy said, taking a sip.
"Sirius stocks some lovely tea," Mrs. Weasley said.
"I chose this brand, actually. Imported from Turkey." Mrs. Malfoy took another sip. "Sirius prefers coffee. The cheap, instant kind." She didn't fake the shudder that followed.
"Ah, Molly, could you kindly prepare another two cups?" said a familiar voice. Into the kitchen strode the Headmaster, eyes briefly settling on Harry to give him a kind smile. Behind him was Sirius and a heavily scarred man with a peg-leg. "Harry, allow me to introduce you to my old friend, Alastor Moody."
Moody stared at Harry, his fake eye whizzing around in its socket until it finally settled on him. Harry shuffled awkwardly before holding out his hand.
"So you're the lad that smote the Dark Lord, eh?" he said. "You don't look like much."
"Alastor," said Dumbledore.
"Fine," said Moody, rolling his eyes — it was a bizarre sight, his fake eye completing about five revolutions while the real eye only managed one. He took Harry's hand in a calloused grip and shook firmly.
"Good to meet you, son. Most call me Mad-Eye."
"You too," said Harry. As the grizzled man turned away, Harry tried to massage some sensation back into his hand.
"Now, Harry, I believe I should talk to you about the primary reason for my visit," said Dumbledore.
"Here, Albus?" Moody interrupted. "With this audience? I can understand Molly, but Malfoy?"
Mrs. Malfoy returned Moody's gaze coolly, not at all phased by his appearance and aggression. "If you can't teach your dog to behave, Headmaster, I suggest you keep a tighter leash."
"Fat words coming from a mouth that feeds from the Dark Lord's hand," Moody snarled.
"Enough," said Dumbledore, raising his voice and staring down the both of them. "Narcissa, I am afraid I will have to ask for you to leave for this discussion."
To her credit, Mrs. Malfoy rallied quickly. "Very well... I will be upstairs with my daughter for the time being."
"Ah," said Dumbledore, holding up a finger. "I would like Lyra to be present, actually, if you will."
Mrs. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, looking wholly unimpressed with both Moody and Dumbledore, but gave a small nod and left the room. Moody turned back to Dumbledore immediately.
"You're too trusting of them," he growled. "First that Potions master of yours, and now her and her daughter — you can't throw a new coat of paint on rot and expect things to be just fine."
"I am not yet sure if to trust her," said Dumbledore simply. "But I do trust her to keep her daughter safe and happy, her daughter who is friends with Harry."
"Her daughter, a Malfoy, raised by Malfoys," said Moody darkly.
"I trust her, Alastor," said Dumbledore, turning around and making his way into the long dining room, where he sat at the end of the table. Moody grunted and hobbled after him, pulling out a chair to his right.
"I'd like to meet this lass," grunted Moody, stretching his injured leg. "Has she also got some tale you can't share?"
"You will hear it yourself," said Dumbledore, then turned around and gestured to Harry. "Come, take a seat, Harry."
Harry did so, and Sirius and Mrs. Weasley joined him on either side.
"Now," said Dumbledore, resting his hand on top of his other. "We must discuss your future, and the immediate problems involved — namely, the presence of Lord Voldemort."
Harry nodded, even as Mrs. Weasley flinched beside him.
"Our first priority, of course, is to keep you and your friends safe," said Dumbledore. "And our second priority is the complete destruction of Voldemort — both of them, if that is the case. Since there is significant overlap between these two objectives, I have been persuaded to give you some tutoring by those who have participated in the previous Wizarding War."
"You mean I'm going to get training, sir?" asked Harry.
"I have tweaked the Defense curriculum for this year to involve more practical components," said Dumbledore. "But we can arrange for private tutoring, if you believe you are up for it. It is your choice, of course, but I imagine Sirius would be more than happy to assist."
Harry glanced at Sirius, who was sitting in his chair a little smugly.
"I was quite the duelist, if I say so myself," he said.
"Would be a good way to knock off the rust," said Moody. "You might even be able to beat the lad."
Sirius pointedly ignored the comment.
"You see the issue, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Lord Voldemort remains out there, possibly with the Philosopher's Stone, and his teenage self may be slowly taking over a poor soul as we speak. Two Riddles."
Harry nodded, honestly terrified at the thought. "Lyra told me."
Dumbledore smiled, though it was a bit sad. "Indeed. If Lord Voldemort regains a body, he will likely not announce himself immediately. He will be patient. We must be especially cautious for this reason. Your new education will not just be so you may throw stronger spells at your enemy, but also so you may detect anything that may be related to his movements, and react accordingly — such as a spy or a cursed object sent to kill you."
Just then, someone knocked on the front door. Sirius stood up and went to go check on it, Moody trailing behind him, probably to interrogate whoever it was. Moody glanced out the windows, checking to make sure there were no unsavory elements waiting to ambush him beyond the door.
A moment later, they came back with some short wizard they called Mundungus Fletcher, who avoided looking in Dumbledore and Moody's direction, choosing instead to sit in the far corner on a chair and dip his hat over his eyes.
"As I was saying," said Dumbledore as Sirius and Moody sat back down, "it is likely Voldemort will stay in the shadows as long as he may, slowly infiltrating the Ministry and anywhere else. Tom Riddle may attempt the same. Frankly, I have no idea if the two will collaborate, fuse together, or fight against one another. Such a thing as two souls of a person becoming their own beings has never before been seen to my knowledge."
"Sir," said Harry, hesitating. "How is that even possible? How can two Voldemorts even exist at the same time?"
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "You see, Harry, Voldemort's greatest fear is
death. His own death, to be precise. I believe that the Diary was his way of leaving behind a copy of himself, so to speak, so that should he ever perish, another version of himself will rise to replace him."
"Cunt," said Moody.
"Alastor!" said Molly, scandalized.
Dumbledore sighed and sent both Moody and a chuckling Sirius long-suffering looks.
"To summarize," he said, "this year's Defense courses will be taught by Alastor. He has always been among the most distinguished Aurors. He also participated extensively in the previous war against Voldemort's forces and has deep insight into how they operate. My goal is to keep you from the fighting..." He gave Harry a deeply grave look. "Should you ever encounter Voldemort's forces, you will flee first. The magic that will be first taught to you will be magic that should aid you in flight of death."
"What if I can't run away?" said Harry quietly, feeling as if this was all too much. Dumbledore spoke as if an army was coming for him — and it made his throat tighten to know the headmaster was justified in doing so.
"Then," said Dumbledore slowly and seriously, "you will fight. This curriculum extends to the other Hogwarts students as well, so hopefully, they too will be safer."
"Used to train Aurors," grumbled Moody, "and now I've been reduced to training teenagers."
Harry jumped slightly as the door knocker sounded. The sound of chair legs scraping against the wooden floor filled the kitchen as Sirius and Mad-Eye stood up again to go open it. This time, Sirius looked out the window, and then ran to the door.
Harry heard the door open loudly, without a care, and Moody cursed at Sirius.
"Moony!" said Sirius, and then some woman began screaming, making Harry jump again in alarm.
"Just a cursed painting," said Mrs. Weasley kindly, getting up to go deal with it.
"Black!" Mad-Eye snapped. "Has your time in prison leaked your brains from your ears? How the bloody hell do you know that's your real friend, eh?"
There was some muffled argument Harry couldn't make out, and then he heard his name, followed by silence.
"Harry Potter?" said the other voice, one Sirius had called Moony. Harry almost shrunk a little into himself at the way the voice perked up in excitement, but then he remembered that Moony was the name of Remus Lupin.
"Thank you, Sirius," said Moony as they came nearer and their voices became clearer. "It's... It's really good to see you again."
"Yeah... You too, old friend," said Sirius. "And look at that, is that another cousin of mine? What
is today, a family reunion?"
Remus Lupin stepped into the dining room, giving a tired smile to everyone. Harry thought he looked much older than he should, when compared to the younger Remus in the photographs in his room.
"Harry," said Remus when his weary eyes fell on him. "You look just like James."
"Mr. Remus?" Harry said.
Remus' smile widened slightly. "Please, just Remus is fine. It's good to meet you again, after so long."
Harry shook the man's hand with a firm grip, and Remus sat down at the seat Sirius had been in. Mrs. Weasley poured some tea for Remus, who accepted it graciously before swallowing the whole thing in one gulp.
Then Sirius walked into the kitchen with another woman, who looked a bit like Mrs. Malfoy, were her hair dark rather than blonde. She also looked around at everyone, a little warily, but smiled kindly at Harry, inclining her head a little. Behind her was a pink-haired witch visibly dragging her feet behind the older woman. When she saw Harry, Dumbledore and Moody, though, she straightened.
"Wotcher, everyone," said the witch, grinning brightly. "Hey, Mad-Eye, still hobbling along?"
Moody grunted.
"Professor," she said, nodding at Dumbledore, then she looked at Harry. "'Lo, Harry. I'm Tonks."
"Hello, Harry," the older woman said. "I'm Andromeda Tonks, and this is my daughter,
Nymphadora."
Nymphadora Tonks glared at her mother before enthusiastically approaching Harry for a handshake — she tripped over quite literally nothing and banged her hip against the corner of the table. Harry winced but obliged her handshake. Her face was red and her smile was a little more forced than before, but she prevailed.
"Nymphadora," Mrs. Tonks sighed.
"
Please don't call me that," said Tonks to Harry.
Harry nodded uncertainly. Mrs. Tonks didn't look too impressed at her daughter's behavior, but they took a seat anyway.
"Andromeda is another of Sirius' cousins," Dumbledore said for his benefit.
"
Another?" said Mrs. Tonks, raising a single dark eyebrow.
"You're Mrs. Malfoy's sister?" said Harry, and her other eyebrow hiked up to meet the other.
"I am indeed," she said carefully. "I trust she hasn't given you a negative opinion of my family — not that I've spoken much to any of my family for some time."
"No, she's been really nice," said Harry, which seemed to raise her eyebrows even more. "I'm friends with her daughter."
"Lyra?" said Tonks, wearing a complicated expression.
"Not her son?" asked Mrs. Tonks. "He's of an age with you, is he not?"
Dumbledore raised his teacup to his mouth and said before taking a sip, "Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy have fostered a most fascinating rivalry."
Harry blushed at that description as Sirius and Andromeda shared amused looks. At that moment, Lyra burst into the room, stopping cold when she saw the newest occupants of the room. Mrs. Tonks' eyes went from unfamiliarity to recognition in a moment; Tonks looked like she didn't know if she should smile or grimace.
Lyra stood there, glancing at everyone in the room until she finally settled her gaze on Tonks. She shifted to put her weight on one leg, her entire posture smug.
"Why are
you here?" Tonks said, eyes narrowing.
"Because I've done more to hurt Voldemort's cause than you have as an Auror?" said Lyra sweetly, and Tonks sputtered.
"
Don't," said Mrs. Tonks, holding a hand up before Tonks could say anything. "Now, Lyra, dear, come here. Merlin, you've grown since I last saw you."
"I'm probably a sight for sore eyes, huh," said Lyra, embracing her. She glanced at Tonks over Mrs. Tonks' shoulder. "Very sore eyes." Tonks' hair turned red as Lyra pulled back. "Don't think it's been too long, though."
"If you wish, Harry, you can leave," Dumbledore said, pulling Harry's attention away. "I just thought you might want to meet a few people you will become increasingly familiar with in the coming months. A few of your professors will be here shortly, should you wish to greet them, although I understand if you wouldn't like to be here when Professor Snape arrives."
"Ah — yeah, maybe," said Harry. "I'll be able to see them once you're done, right?"
Dumbledore inclined his head, and Harry stood. He made polite goodbyes to everybody and rushed up the stairs to join Ron who was, as he'd expected, currently bored out of his mind.
~~~~~
Andromeda Tonks watched the Boy Who Lived rush out of the kitchen and up the stairs. A seemingly unremarkable boy, yet he may prove himself in time. He was still young. She turned her attention back to Lyra as she made her way around the table to sit next to Moody, who glanced at her with clear distrust.
Lyra didn't so much as glance at him, but from the satisfied expression she held, Andromeda could tell she was enjoying it. That or the fact she was going to be part of this meeting. An appreciation for attention would've made sense, being the daughter of Narcissa and Lucius. Though not much else did, from what she had heard of the girl.
Lyra Malfoy was one step away from pulling an Andromeda — though it seemed Lyra's parents were far more accepting than Andromeda's own were. But still, fraternizing with muggle-borns — Andromeda had half-expected her sister to have a heart attack. After all, she nearly did back when
she had decided to fraternize with a muggle-born by the name of Ted Tonks.
Thought Andromeda hated to admit it, the difference in how they were treated by the same woman made her bitter. But she didn't begrudge Lyra; she was glad for her biannual visits to her home.
Soon, more Order members arrived, all inspected by Mad-Eye Moody. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick arrived together, while Professor Snape came on his own. Kingsley Shacklebolt, a senior Auror according to Nymphadora, came next with Arthur Weasley at his side. Next was one of the elder Weasley children — William, he was called, who had come down from upstairs rather than the door, sitting down near Lyra and introducing himself to her.
To her surprise came a man that looked like a far less pleasant Professor Dumbledore, introducing himself as Aberforth Dumbledore, his brother. He ignored everybody as he sat down. There were also a few others she didn't know the name of.
"Now that we have gathered," said Dumbledore, quieting everyone, "we can begin our first meeting of the reborn Order of the Phoenix."
Nymphadora clapped, then faltered when nobody else joined in. Lyra sent her an evil smirk, mouthing something that looked like
loser. Andromeda fought back a sigh.
"Thank you," said Dumbledore with a gracious smile. "Now, some of you here are veterans of the first Order. You will know that this organization was created to hinder Voldemort in any way we could, to stop the progress of evil. I have called this organization to arms once again because we are looking at the possible resurgence of Voldemort — or, if we are unlucky, two Voldemorts."
There was a cacophony of muttering and questions. Andromeda herself had no idea what that could mean, but it seemed some — like Lyra and Sirius — already knew. Most, however, didn't.
"Two You-Know-Whos?" someone said.
"What does that mean?" said another.
Dumbledore sighed. "As you all know, Lord Voldemort has stolen the Philosopher's Stone. Thankfully, if he remains a wraith without a host or friend, it will be difficult for him to use, perhaps impossible, but if not — if he learns how to use it to regain a proper body..." He trailed off, not needing to say anything more; everybody had already been informed of the mess regarding the Philosopher's Stone the year before. "The reason for his undeath, however... his ability to exist as a wraith after the destruction of his body... That is the other matter of importance."
He paused, falling into thought, as if unsure of how to proceed.
"Lord Voldemort has always greatly feared death," he said, somewhat slowly. "I believe he has created a fail-safe of sorts, a dark object that is able to recreate a younger version of himself, should he himself perish."
Again, there murmurs and questions asked, coming one after another until Dumbledore raised a hand to silence them.
"This fail-safe was discovered by one of very own," he said, and he gestured to Lyra. She sat there, looking a little uncomfortable suddenly as she lightly tapped a finger on the dark wood of the table. "Lyra, if you would like, you may tell the tale. I do not wish to say anything you or James would not like to be told to those present."
"Why isn't James here?" said Minerva. "I was under the impression he was responsible for this new disaster."
Dumbledore opened his mouth but Lyra spoke first.
"Because there's no point in you all torturing him more than he's already torturing himself," she said.
Minerva blinked at the sharp tone, clearly not used to it, then turned a bit curt herself. "Malfoy, if Stark is the reason Dumbledore felt the need to gather twenty people here —"
"Minerva," began Dumbledore, but Lyra once again cut across him.
"The only thing he could do is tell what happened," she said with a swift air of finality, turning stiff in her chair. Then she relaxed, leaning back again. "And I know what happened myself."
"It's quite all right, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "She is right. To force James to sit here and relive his mistake, as grave as it might turn out to be... it would be needlessly cruel." He nodded at Lyra. "If you would?"
"Why should we trust her to tell us the full truth?" said Moody suddenly, casting a dark look at her. "Why can't you just tell it, Albus? Why is she even here?"
"Because I'm the reason Voldemort
doesn't have a friend or host right now," snapped Lyra.
Moody's eyes darted from Lyra to Dumbledore several times, and Dumbledore nodded.
"It is true," he said. "Lyra was the one to discover Quirrell's plot. Were it not for her, the Stone would have been stolen right under my nose, and Voldemort would have both a host and a friend still. It is likely he would already have returned."
The intrigue blossoming within Andromeda turned to pride, and certainly wonder too. No wonder Narcissa would be here, allowing her daughter to be a part of the Order. Lyra Malfoy had perhaps put herself right below Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore on Voldemort's list of people he wished to torture and murder. How ironic.
Moody stared at Lyra, still untrusting.
"She's the reason I'm out of Azkaban," said Sirius. "She was the one who caught Pettigrew, found out he was an Animagus, turned him in, set me free." He shrugged. "She's got my trust."
"And I've heard and seen nothing but greatness from her!" piped up Filius. "She and James might be troublemakers, but from what I hear they've both never declined to help a struggling student. She's stopped bullies too." He grimaced slightly. "Though not in a way I'd prefer..."
"She's also been nothing but wonderful to us," said Molly, frowning in thought. "My kids all like her, I think. Especially Fred and George."
"Not Percy," whispered Lyra to Bill. "I kept flirting with Penelope Clearwater — his girlfriend."
"Never turned her nose down at us," said Arthur, shaking his head in amusement as Bill snorted. "Not like — well..." He grew uncomfortable, not wanting to say it.
"All I can say is that she can hold her liquor well," said Aberforth, his voice a bit rough, "and that her tongue gets loose when she can't."
Lyra laughed nervously.
"I've heard her say things she probably can't remember now," he continued, "things she probably wish she hadn't if she knew." He let Lyra sit there for a moment uncomfortably. "But none of it was bad, really. She's got a good heart."
"As much as I hate to admit it," said Nymphadora, in a tone that truly suggested it pained her, "Lyra is definitely on our side, Moody. James, too. They're both little shits, but I've seen them stand up against bigotry when they were only firsties, while we were both in Hogwarts."
Nymphadora's words seemed to convince Moody the most.
"Fine," he grunted, and waved a hand. "Whatever."
Dumbledore, who had been smiling serenely the whole time, nodded to Lyra again.
"Right," said Lyra, leaning forward and lacing her fingers together. "I... My father — he had this black book, held onto it for years, and… I guess it was to get back at the Weasleys or something" — she gestured to them — "I don't really know, but at Diagon Alley last year, he slipped the diary into Ginny's cauldron."
Arthur straightened in his seat, looking outraged, and Molly paled. Bill narrowed his eyes.
"Diary?" said Kingsley.
"It was Tom Riddle's diary," said Lyra, "given to my father in the first war, I imagine. It was" — she glanced at the Weasleys with a grimace — "it was imbued with dark magic. Tom Riddle was — is Lord Voldemort's real name."
Andromeda hadn't known this, but it seemed all the Order members from the first war already had. Molly and Arthur only paled further.
"I saw him do it," Lyra continued. "I took it out of her cauldron and held onto it. I wasn't sure what it did then, but I've never trusted my father fully."
"Why didn't you turn it in?" said Moody. "Why is your father still walking free?"
"What was I supposed to do?" she hissed back at him. "Tear my family apart with accusations I couldn't prove? It'd end up nowhere. All I'd do is make my brother hate me and probably break my mother's heart."
"Can you break something that's nonexistent?" said Moody without remorse.
"Alastor!" said Dumbledore sharply. "That is enough."
Lyra stared at Moody hard, her eyebrows low and her nostrils flaring.
"You held onto it yourself," said Dumbledore to her. "Quite understandable. Please continue."
Lyra looked at him then, and then away, and Andromeda knew Lyra had made a mistake somewhere and it was coming up.
"I put it in my trunk, which was
meant to be spelled against intruders," said Lyra, definitely some kind of guilt quieting her voice. "But James wanted to see it. He got it out of my trunk before I had even put it in my dorm. Probably while we were on the train."
Moody muttered something under his breath, Minerva closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, and Filius sighed in disappointment.
"He tried to set up this whole system that would flag any sort of unaccounted-for behavior." Lyra shook her head. "He'd learned Occlumency too, but who knows if it even worked. But Riddle wasn't doing anything that could be flagged by his system. It was just reading his mind, I guess, figuring out a plan of his own. He didn't even do anything until the very end. I don't know. James doesn't even remember everything that happened."
"Why'd you even let him use it that long?" said Nymphadora, sounding disappointed. "Lyra..."
"I
didn't. He
wanted to have this whole plan so he could keep using it, but I shut him down. I took it back, put it in my trunk, which was in my dorm, which is spelled against boys, and added extra protective spells on the trunk itself that he definitely couldn't get into." Then she grimaced.
"What?" said Moody impatiently. "What happened then?"
"I..." Lyra looked for a moment as though her eyes were about to water. "I didn't realize that the diary he had handed back to me was a fake — I think he might've applied some magic to it, a mild Confundus Charm or something — I don't know."
Moody cursed. "And we're supposed to
trust him?"
"So he had only used it for — how long, exactly?" said Bill, cutting off anyone else.
"A few hours," said Lyra quietly. "He wrote in it for a few hours, talking to Riddle. Mostly insulting him, though."
Bill grimaced. "It'd be enough anyway," he said. "Someone like Voldemort, even at sixteen, could probably twist his thoughts enough to make him do that."
"I thought it was in my trunk the whole year," said Lyra, avoiding catching anyone's gaze. "I even checked on it when James got all grumpy a few weeks later. But it was there at the bottom of my trunk still."
"So James was having mood changes all year?" said Nymphadora, holding her hands up as if in disbelief.
"He got
grumpy," said Lyra defensively. "He wasn't doing anything crazy. I just figured it was family trouble, or grief was getting to him from losing some of his loved ones a while back. He bottles that stuff up and I thought it was just leaking out. And it began
weeks after he had stopped using the diary — after I thought he had stopped using it, anyway. And then it was months. I didn't think a few hours of writing in it was going to affect him from a distance for months after, okay?"
"Still stupid," said Moody, though with less heat than before. "The both of you."
"What, you would've guessed it was the diary?" said Lyra, irritated.
"I wouldn't have let him use it at all!" he said, the heat returning immediately.
"
Foolish boy," whispered Minerva to herself.
"You know," said Lyra, turning on her with a fire in her eyes, "if you had taken my warnings about Quirrell seriously,
Professor, maybe we could've stopped him from getting the Stone and we would only have this Riddle to worry about. But instead I had to run around, trying to find
someone to take me seriously, wasting my time as he was already down there, stealing the damn thing —"
"Miss Malfoy!" said Professor Snape, speaking up for the first time as Minerva's face both hardened and paled; yet she said nothing.
"Please," sighed Dumbledore. "We have all made mistakes. Including myself. Let us put aside the judgement and focus on the issue. This is precisely how Lord Voldemort divides. I would not put it past even young Tom to have deliberately manipulated James into doing things that Tom knew would cause confusion and conflict."
Lyra put her palms on the table and took a deep breath to steady herself.
"Then, one night," said Dumbledore, "I was in my office when Minerva rushed in, saying a student was missing."
"The Fat Lady had rushed into one of the portraits in my office," said Minerva. "She said a student from Ravenclaw had demanded access to the Gryffindor Tower, and that they had been acting odd... violent. I went to investigate, naturally, and found in front of the entrance to the Tower a trail of blood. I followed it, and it led to an abandoned bathroom on the second floor. There was a hole where a sink had once been, leading to a large pipe. The blood stopped right in front of the pipe, and I concluded the student had jumped inside."
"She came and found me immediately then," said Dumbledore, taking over again. "I followed the pipe down into a tunnel, and the tunnel to a large chamber, decorated with stone serpents and a tall statue of Salazar Slytherin. It was then I realized that it was the fabled Chamber of Secrets."
"That's
real?" said Bill, looking as though he might be excited if it weren't for the severity of the story.
"So it appears. And beneath the statue I found a dead basilisk and the battered body of James Stark, near death," said Dumbledore.
"A basilisk!" said Molly, holding her hands to her mouth. Bill's eyes widened further and a few others murmured their surprise. Nymphadora whispered in appreciation, and Andromeda elbowed her. The thought of such a creature in a school where hundreds gathered regularly in one spot...
"The boy killed it?" said Moody.
"At the near cost of his life," said Dumbledore.
Moody hummed. "Still."
"Yes, he did a great service to the school in killing a dormant but considerable threat underneath its foundations. However, the diary was not in his possession in the Chamber. Tom Riddle may have given the diary to another first, and with his last tendrils of control, threw James into the Chamber and summoned the basilisk. Lyra's information that James was apparently well-prepared in dealing with Tom only strengthens my belief in this matter. James would have been too much of a hassle. So he trapped him within the Chamber while searching for another host, but was not able or forgot to close the entrance to it."
"So You-Know-Who could be taking advantage of another student right this moment," said Minerva, her lips pulled into a thin line.
"Taking advantage of — for now, perhaps," said Dumbledore grimly. "As James has shown, it is only a matter of time until Tom usurps them fully."
A moment of silence descended upon them, and nothing was heard but everybody's breathing and their sipping of tea.
"Is there anything else, Lyra?" said Dumbledore.
Lyra shrugged. "Not much more happened. You told me about James in the Chamber. I freaked out, realized what must've happened, and went to check on the diary."
"Why?" said Minerva.
Lyra frowned. "Why what?"
"Why did you check on the diary? How did you know the diary was connected to the Chamber?"
And then Andromeda saw something familiar, a split second look on Lyra's face that only Andromeda could recognize, for she had seen it on Narcissa more than once: it was the look a younger Narcissa had made whenever she was asked a damning question and had to immediately think of an answer.
"I — I got a little curious too. On the first day, I had James ask the diary a few questions as well. It told me it was meant to open some secret room within the school. As soon as Dumbledore mentioned the Chamber of Secrets... Well, I had come across its myth before, and it was the only thing that made sense. Riddle was a Parselmouth, and the school's been searched for Chamber numerous times before. There'd have to be something special required to find it and get in."
Andromeda felt her heart skip.
Lyra was lying through her teeth.
An uncomfortable silence reigned among them again. Minerva frowned, but didn't seem to find the explanation suspicious; neither did Filius or Moody. Snape on the other hand watched Lyra with suspicion, though that might simply have been his usual disposition. Dumbledore rested his chin on his interlaced fingers. Andromeda figured that Lyra had probably used the diary herself to find all this out, but she wasn't about to voice her thoughts.
"We should station Aurors at the school entrance," said Kingsley, bringing them out of their silence. "We can scan students as they enter."
"Albus," said Filius thoughtfully, "do you know if You-Know-Who can only control their hosts through the diary? Could he simply have his host leave the object at home, bypassing all security?"
"Possibly," Dumbledore said. "It is also possible that the diary has been given to a student who has just graduated and will not be returning, or another grown witch or wizard. Tom may consider it foolish to return to Hogwarts as another student."
"So everyone's a potential carrier," Moody said. "What a bloody mess."
Dumbledore sighed softly through his nose, all but confirming Moody's words.
"I think I should like to insist on some kind of screening either way," Kingsley said. "Just on the first day as they enter, we'll scan for dark items."
"And the owls?" said Moody. "Even a drop-off point at the edge of Hogwarts grounds. There are plenty of ways to sneak dark items into Hogwarts, despite the impenetrability they claim."
"They're children, Alastor," said an Auror that Andromeda didn't know the name of. "They're not that clever."
"Oh, I don't know. They might be collaborating with their parents," said Moody, shooting a glance at Lyra.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Did Rosier take out a piece of your brain too?"
"Aye, you'd know about Rosier, wouldn't you —?"
"Stop," cut in Dumbledore. His voice was not loud; indeed, he sounded merely weary at this point. "Please. For the rest of our sakes. There are topics of greater importance."
Lyra and Moody both backed down.
"He's on the right track, though," said Lyra vaguely. "There are plenty of ways into the castle or out of it that most people don't know about."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her. "And I expect you know of these entrances?"
"Some," she said, lightly shrugging. "The Room of Requirement can conjure up an exit to Hogsmeade. It can't work the other way around, but you could get something to Hogsmeade, leave it there, then, you know."
"Open up a passage to that location," said Dumbledore, nodding. "I will investigate it."
"There's also a secret passageway behind the statue of Gunhilda de Gorsemoor on the third floor. It leads to Honeydukes." She shrugged when people gave her amazed looks. "Also, the Whomping Willow — passage beneath it that leads to the Shrieking Shack."
"You know about that one, do you?" said Remus, smiling weakly.
Lyra gave him a pointed look. "I have a map,
Moony."
Sirius blinked and Remus opened his mouth soundlessly.
"You mean —?"
"I should probably let you know about that now," said Lyra to Dumbledore, and she withdrew her wand and flicked it through the air.
"Miss Malfoy!" said Filius. "You're not allowed to use magic outside of school yet!"
Lyra ignored him as some kind of parchment flew into the room from the doorway. She caught it, then slid it over to Dumbledore.
"Password's
I solemnly swear I am up to no good. To close it off,
Mischief Managed."
Dumbledore looked down at it with a curious expression, and tapped his wand on the parchment.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he said, and the parchment opened up, unfolding to reveal (Andromeda leaned in to get a better look) a map of Hogwarts, with tunnels and areas she had never seen before, and what looked like a pair of footsteps walking through one of the halls, named
Argus Filch.
"The memories that thing brings back," said Sirius, grinning widely, even as Professor Snape looked at the object in disgust. "Where'd you find it?"
"Filch's office," said Lyra. Beside her, Filius sighed. "It was how I found Pettigrew, actually. Saw
Ron Weasley and
Peter Pettigrew in the same area in the library, even though Ron was alone."
"Did you see Lord Voldemort when he possessed Quirrell?" said Dumbledore, tracing his fingers over the parchment in wonder.
"I honestly haven't used the map much the last two years. I'd learned the layout of the castle by heart long before Quirrell became the Defense professor. The only time I looked for Quirrell was after I had already overheard him talking about the Stone and was going to get James' help, and by then he was off the map."
"I can't believe you just handed it to the Headmaster, Lyra," said Sirius, with a dramatic groan. "Do you know how many all-nighters we pulled to make that thing?"
"For you, none," said Remus flatly. "You always ended up falling asleep before we did much."
"Mischief Managed," said Dumbledore quietly, folding the map up and putting it in his robes. "I thank you for this, Lyra. I don't know if it will show Tom if he is possessing another student, but it will be useful nonetheless."
Sirius watched the map disappear into the folds of fabric with something like despair in his eyes. Then he grimaced as Lyra kicked his leg under the table, held up a hand to block her lips from Minerva and Snape, and mouthed to him:
We made another one.
"I have yet to speak to Minister Fudge about what happened," Dumbledore continued, politely pretending not to notice. "I imagine he will either overreact or underreact to this information. Perhaps he'd accidentally broadcast it to the press, causing a nationwide panic and alerting any of Voldemort's followers. Or else he may simply not believe it and be of no help — perhaps be a nuisance, even."
"Maybe propose a more rigorous crackdown on dark objects?" Nymphadora said.
"My Muggle Protection Act barely passed as it was," said Arthur bitterly, probably thinking about how the bill was what led to this whole mess. "I don't know if the Wizengamot would go for something stricter."
"Even with that bill, we need good reason to search a wizard's home," said Kingsley. "There are also limits to the depth of the searches. A bill that gives us more freedom could go a long way to secure more dark objects, including this diary."
"I recall expressing my belief that implementing Minister Bagnold's policies during peacetime would prove rather unpopular," said Dumbledore. "People enjoy their comfort and privacy. Even taking a minute of their time during their afternoon shopping for random searches would cause grumbling."
"Even so, it would go a long way to stop the Dark Lord."
"I agree, but I would not be able to convince Cornelius, or more importantly, the majority of the Wizengamot, of such a move."
"You could send a letter out, perhaps?" Arthur said hesitantly. Dumbledore gestured at him to continue. "Well, when you send the class materials list, you could also include a description of the diary… claim it belonged to some student or another."
"I hardly think You-Know-Who is going to give up his own diary," said Nymphadora.
"No, but their family might, if they see it," said Arthur. "I know that if I saw any of my kids with a diary that I believed once belonged to some poor student's grandmother or such, then I would try to return it."
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said, lightly tapping his fingers against each other. "It may instead force Tom to further hide his diary, making it harder for us to recover. I shall keep it in mind, Arthur. Thank you."
Arthur nodded, leaning back in his chair.
"What is this thing exactly, anyway?" said Moody. "This diary, this fail-safe of his. I've heard of fail-safes — life-anchors and things like that — but one that recreates a younger version of the wizard?"
Everyone's eyes swiveled to the headmaster, watching expectantly. He placed his teacup down on the saucer and interlaced his fingers.
"That, I'm afraid, I'm not willing to disclose. Consider it an operational secret. I know I am asking for a lot," he said, holding his palms up momentarily. "But the details are something I intend to take to the grave. The method which Voldemort may have used is so unspeakably vile that I have decades ago purged the Hogwarts library of every mention of it. I do not wish to spread the knowledge any further."
Moody watched Dumbledore thoughtfully, without any of his earlier frustration. If he did have any guess as to what the headmaster was referring to, he certainly wasn't sharing; whatever it might be, he evidently agreed with the headmaster's reasoning.
"Now, allow me to enlighten you to the full purpose of this meeting. There were three primary objectives, one of which we have already fulfilled — to assess the threat of Lord Voldemort and Tom Riddle. The other two objectives were to assess the status of various factions in wizarding Britain, and for me to discuss with you the future of the Order.
"If Voldemort — either of them — returns to power, then we will undoubtedly be plunged into a second Wizarding War. I would like to discuss next the different factions that may become involved, many of which some of you are familiar with."
Dumbledore took a moment to sip his tea, before continuing.
"Several notable giant clans were allied with Voldemort, as many of you know. As such, after the end of the war, many countries, including Britain, sent dedicated kill-squads into their habitats, eroding their population, though enough remain to be a significant threat. I have spoken to Hagrid, and he believes we would not be able to ally with them. We shall see if we can at the very least convince them of neutrality, and deny Voldemort one of his most dangerous assets."
"Why are giants so dangerous anyway?" said Nymphadora. "Compared to You-Know-Who's Death Eaters, I mean," she tacked on, as everyone looked at her with an incredulous expression. "A single Death Eater could do more damage than a giant could."
"They're highly magically resistant, stupid," said Lyra. "That alone makes them not only difficult to take down but they also serve as an enormous distraction in a fight to allow those Death Eaters to do more precise work."
"They are also a threat to the Statute of Secrecy," Dumbledore said. "In the previous war they stretched the Ministry forces thin, forcing them on Obliviation duty when they could be fighting back or healing the wounded."
Nymphadora nodded, then glared at her cousin.
Dumbledore looked toward Remus. "Similarly, Voldemort recruited werewolves to further strain defending forces."
"Right," said Remus, getting some kind of hint. "For those of you that don't know, I'm a werewolf." Andromeda hid her surprise in a mask of polite disinterest; there was no need to be rude and gawk. "I have a few acquaintances with the same condition, all of them peaceful men and women. Regardless, the general atmosphere among the werewolf community in Britain is 'frustrated.' They've been discriminated against for decades, and the Fudge administration shows no promise of improvement. If the Order can pull a few strings" — he nodded to Albus — "then I think they might —
might — be amenable to staying neutral rather than joining the Dark Lord. Some of the younger might even be convinced to help us fight."
"Thank you for the insight, Remus," Dumbledore said, before looking to the eldest Weasley sibling. "William, you've been working with goblins."
"The goblins are neutral towards wizardkind, as always," said Bill. "They might not like us much, but they'd only ever enter the conflict if a significant number of their own were killed or grievously harmed. And even then, they'd only ever fight on their own terms and would refuse even a temporary alliance with wizards."
"Disappointing, but not unexpected," Dumbledore said. "Filius?"
"Nothing to add, really," said the diminutive professor. "He's summarized it quite nicely."
"I have not yet been summoned by the Dark Lord," said Snape. A few people looked at him warily, Moody with open distrust. "But... he knows, were I summoned, the headmaster would know of it. As such, I suspect he is either currently in a state where he cannot call upon me, or he does not want to be yet detected by the headmaster."
Dumbledore nodded, before moving on. "Brother?"
"No whispers yet about the Dark Lord," Aberforth said gruffly. "Just the usual rabble. But if he comes back, you can bet they're going straight to him. When you're good-for-nothing scum with nothing going for you, and one of the most powerful wizards in modern history tells you that you're special just for having four magical grandparents, they're going to cling to him like a drowning man to a straw."
"Thank you, brother," said Dumbledore. Aberforth grunted. "Aurors?"
"Budget cuts in recent years have not been promising," Kingsley said. "Funds are being relocated to the Department of Magical Games and Sports. The upcoming Quidditch World Cup is proving to be… logistically difficult. Especially with Bagman's spendthrift tendencies."
"Isn't that over a year away?" Sirius asked.
Kingsley shrugged languidly. "Ludovic is a… slow worker."
"Anything else?" Dumbledore asked, meeting the eyes of the other Aurors who were agreeing with Kingsley with amused nods.
Nymphadora cleared her throat and everyone looked at her. Turning slightly pink, she plowed on. "I think most of the Auror Corps are good people, but I've noticed a few bad eggs. You know, the kind of wizards or witches that don't
openly support pure-blood supremacy, but will avoid speaking to muggle-borns when they can get away with it."
"We shall keep this in consideration." He looked at Andromeda, but she shook her head, feeling a little embarrassed. "Sirius?"
"The Black family is richer than I thought, honestly," said Sirius. "My parents never cared to spend much, since we already had everything. There's a bit gone from the previous war, but otherwise it's just all sat in a vault at Gringotts. I might still be richer than the Malfoys, even." He shot a grin at Lyra.
"Probably, after all the things I've made my father buy me," she said.
"Ha! I hope you're beggaring him." He turned back to Dumbledore. "But yeah, in terms of finances, I don't think I can compete with
all the dark pure-blood families at once, but we're still decently well-off. Feel free to ask for any of it. In fact, ask me in front of my mother's portrait if you want some Black family gold."
"Yeah, the royalties from Dumbledore's chocolate frog cards just can't keep up," said Lyra.
Dumbledore's beard twitched as he fought his smile.
He continued on with a few more inputs from Mundungus and Moody, and promised to look into the leads offered by the Order members today. As people briefly stood to stretch their legs and take a break, and Molly bustled to the stove to prepare some more tea, Andromeda felt somewhat uncomfortable in her presence here.
Unlike any of the others, she didn't have any connections — she'd given those up as well as the Black name. Her daughter, she could understand, but her? She and Ted lived a quiet life in the muggle suburbs. She didn't have an impressive job. She wasn't some warrior out of legend; rather, she'd been in hiding during most of the previous war. After being disowned, she didn't have material wealth that could be used to fund the war effort. In fact, Dumbledore already had Sirius, with all the Black family holdings, under his thumb.
Then Dumbledore gathered them back, and they all came back to the dining room. Everybody sat back down, except for Professor Snape who leaned on a wall in the back, and Lyra who stood behind Nymphadora's chair, hands clasped on the chair's top rail as she leaned on it. Nymphadora's hair was mostly red, but the roots were pink, meaning she wasn't really that mad about it.
"Now, my final thoughts for this meeting... the third reason I have gathered you here today," said Dumbledore, and his tone felt a little less somber and more enigmatic. "I have had time to reflect."
He let this hang in the air for a moment and he pondered his words.
"The world was not kind before Voldemort rose to power. Some of you have heard me say Voldemort was a symptom of a disease, festering in the heart of the wizarding world. I stand by it today. Our system is rotten. Our culture has for many centuries given way to prejudice and discrimination. I have never hidden my disgust at this, the way some treat muggles, muggle-borns, other intelligent species, even simple foreign magicals."
Andromeda's own family was prejudiced against any witch or wizard whose estate had not been present in Britain for a considerable time. They held some grudging respect for those rare Egyptian or Indian wizarding dynasties that lasted thousands of years, but that still didn't mean the Blacks viewed them as superiors, or even as equals.
"It is my hope," said Dumbledore, "that what remains of my influence, such as the Order, will be used for good. I have…" He hesitated here. "I have always been distasteful of throwing my name around. I have made mistakes as every person has, and even if I weren't averse to it, forcing politicians to dance to my tune would be a temporary measure at best. Instead, I had hoped to share some of my experience and wisdom with the younger, kind-hearted witches and wizards who will one day inherit our society."
He met the eyes of the younger ones in the room. Nymphadora and Bill looked intrigued but still slightly confused. Lyra, on the other hand, had a gleam in her eye.
"The Order has always been a resistance organization, an underground railroad of sorts and nothing more. But I plan to transform this secret society for an even greater purpose. The Order of the Phoenix, like its namesake, will be reborn from its ashes into something worthier: a sanctuary to those who will wield power for the better, shaping the world into a kinder place for all, where love and care triumph over fear and hate. The Order mustn't
resist evil; it must
prevent it."
Everyone watched him in silence, awed — even Snape to a degree, who had until now stood in the back looking as sullen as ever. Aberforth himself, who was always said to not care much for his brother, had a glint of respect in his eyes.
"Bring out the guillotines!" cried Lyra, holding up a fist.
Dumbledore shook his head, his solemnity fading into a small bit of exasperation.
Lyra put her fist down and smiled serenely. "Seriously, though, when are we going to take over the Ministry?"
"That," said Dumbledore, "is a matter for another day. I think we can end it here for now. I thank you all for coming."
The sound of excited murmurs filled the room, as people scraped their chairs back and stood. They seemed inclined to spend the evening here, but all Andromeda could think about was getting out of this stifling atmosphere and back into Ted's arms. Albus, who had just sent a Patronus upstairs, met her eyes and nodded respectfully, which she returned. She stopped when Nymphadora faltered however.
"Hey — mum," she said. "Is it alright if I go talk to Emmeline for a bit? We haven't had a chance to go to the pub together for
months." She was tugging on the hand of a brown-haired Auror, who was facing in the other direction and attempting a conversation with Kingsley even as Nymphadora attempted to drag her away by the wrist.
"Of course, dear," said Andromeda. After a moment of hesitation, she pulled Nymphadora into a hug, one that made the girl blush bright red without the use of her unique abilities. For all her halfhearted complaints, though, Nymphadora embraced her back, squeezing tight, which warmed her heart.
She stepped outside the dining room, the sound of conversation dimming, and suddenly felt alone in the unlit entrance hall all of a sudden. The portrait of Walburga Black was silent. There was a creak from the stairs, and Andromeda turned to find her younger sister, staring at her.
"Andy?" Narcissa said gently from the gloom of the afternoon.
"Narcissa," she said, feeling her heart ache.
"Merlin, you've gotten old," said Narcissa, and Andromeda gave a small laugh at the audacity of her.
"That's because I
have gotten old since we last spoke properly," she said, a little sharply. "We spoke last… what, four years ago?"
"I… yes," Narcissa admitted awkwardly. "How's your daughter?"
"She's well," Andromeda said, casting a look in the direction of the dining room, filled with conversation. "She graduated from the Auror academy a few months ago."
"Oh. Congratulations," Narcissa said sincerely. "You must be proud. Quite rigorous requirements for the Aurors, are there not?"
"Indeed," said Andromeda. "'Outstanding' in all prerequisite N.E.W.T.s for the Auror Corps, and top marks upon graduation as well. If only she didn't infuriate her professors and supervisors while she was at it."
Narcissa smiled softly. "Oh, I know the feeling. My daughter's constantly getting into trouble at school. Plenty enough professors have given up on disciplining her."
"From what I just saw in there, I'm not surprised," said Andromeda, teasing lightly. She sighed. "To be a child again…" Narcissa was likely thinking of a time when they weren't avoiding each other — just like Andromeda was.
"Would you like to come over for tea in the near future?" Narcissa finally said, and Andromeda looked up in shock.
"What — you'd invite
me?"
Narcissa waved her away, attempting to be casual. "I know when my husband's busy and when he's not. I'll just invite you over when he's not around."
"Cissy, you know that's not what I mean."
Narcissa went quiet, then sighed. "You will be far more suitable for intellectual conversation than any of the Parkinsons or Notts."
At any other time, Andromeda might have denied her. As much as she longed for a larger family again, she hadn't forgotten — nor forgiven — Narcissa's betrayal. Indeed, even now, Narcissa pointedly did not apologize for her actions, taking no responsibility. But Nymphadora was, as she had proved earlier, flying from her nest. As much as she loved Ted, it still felt lonely at times. Ted would occasionally watch football or go to the pub with his own friends; Andromeda had none. Even Lyra and Sirius could only visit occasionally, each with their own things to do.
"Yes," she said finally. "I suppose I would. Where should we meet?"
"Pardon?"
"Where should we meet?" Andromeda repeated. "It's been a long time since I've been to Malfoy Manor, and I haven't told you where I live."
"Ah. Yes." Narcissa hummed, considering. "Let's just meet at the Cauldron, at noon tomorrow?"
"Very well." Andromeda gave a small smile. "It's good to see you, sister."
"You as well, Cissy."
The embrace was awkward and stiff, but it still felt rather nice.
