The Champion's Legacy

Chapter 10: The Order of the Phoenix – I

Author's Note: I struggled a lot with this chapter. Maybe the mandatory lockdown stifled my ideas as well, along with my freedom of moving outside. I don't complain about the latter, but certainly the former. I just hope you all enjoy reading it.

Many thanks to Dorothea Greengrass for beta-reading this chapter.

Disclaimer: Recognisable portions in this chapter have been taken from the Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling. I neither own nor intend to make any profit from the use of Harry Potter and the associated characters of the series, in my story.

Previously on "The Champion's Legacy"…

'In fact,' said Harry, looking between the envelopes on the table and the notebook in Daphne's hand, 'I want to show these to Dumbledore in the next Order meeting.'

Daphne looked surprised. 'Are you sure, Harry?'

'Absolutely,' said Harry in a tone of conviction. 'I can't do anything with it, can I? Might as well give it to someone who can.'

Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.

'Plus, this gives us leverage to find out about the Department of Mysteries.'

Three pairs of eyes stared at him this time, except they all looked blank.

'The Department of Mysteries?' repeated Ron. 'Why do you want to know about them?'

'Because,' said Harry slowly, 'I think they have the weapon that Voldemort's looking for.'

The last meeting of the Order of the Phoenix of the summer of nineteen ninety-five took place two days before their return to Hogwarts, in the cavernous basement kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Most of the Order members were in attendance that evening, with the absence of Professors McGonagall and Snape – it was presumed that they were occupied in finalising arrangements for the start of the new term at Hogwarts castle.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Daphne were sitting in the boy's room on the first floor, whiling away the time before the meeting was due to start. Mr Weasley had promised Harry that he would call for them once the Order was ready, so they had decided to congregate in his room to save time. They had wanted to attend the meeting in person, but the Order members living in Grimmauld Place had, after consultations with Dumbledore, turned down the request. They did not want to risk Harry's safety by revealing his location to the other Order members, most of whom were foreign witches and wizards. They had agreed, however, to have a separate meeting after the main one, which Harry and the others could attend and speak to Dumbledore.

Harry had given the notebook and stack of envelopes – save for Sophie's letter – to Hermione for safekeeping; he would show it to Dumbledore and the Order once they gave him enough information regarding the Department of Mysteries.

The other three had appeared quite astonished at his theory that the weapon of Voldemort's desire was held in the said Department, when he had raised it in the library two days ago. Naturally, the first question that had risen to everyone's lips was –

'What do they do at the Department of Mysteries?'

All of them had turned to Ron, who shrugged. 'I'm not sure. I've heard Dad talk about the Department and the blokes who work there – those Unspeakables,' he said, 'but there are only rumours about their work.'

'Like?' asked Hermione eagerly.

'Well, time travel, really advanced magic, stuff like that,' said Ron. 'I don't really know, and neither does Dad, I think.'

'Yeah, Mr Weasley doesn't know,' said Harry, recalling their conversation after his hearing. 'He only said "top secret stuff" –' he drew air quotes for the last three words '– and that not a lot of Ministry people really know what goes on down there.'

'He's right,' said Ron. 'Dad's mentioned Bode's name in passing a few times, but it's usually something to do with his work, I think.'

A sudden idea occurred to Harry, and he turned to Daphne. 'What about you? Does your father know?'

Daphne shook her head. 'Father's work is entirely removed from the usual bureaucratic processes of the Ministry. I don't think he would have any idea.'

'He did tell me something,' said Harry, remembering another bit of the conversation of that day. 'He said, "The Department of Mysteries holds many secrets. Some of them are best left that way." And that I'd know when I was ready.'

The other three stared at him.

'Well,' said Daphne at last, 'if he said that, he must have an idea. But I'm not going to ask him, or poke around for information from that angle. He'd be on to me faster than Bowtruckles on woodlice.'

'Faster than what?' asked Harry, flummoxed.

'Bowtruckles on – oh, never mind.'

'We're getting off track,' said Hermione firmly. 'I'm still not fully convinced that the weapon is in the Department of Mysteries, Harry. What makes you so sure that it's there?'

'I told you, Mr Weasley hesitated when I asked him that question,' insisted Harry. 'And Mr Greengrass as good as told me to stay out of it. Why do that if there is nothing for them to hide, Hermione?'

'He has a point, you know,' said Ron.

'Yes, but Harry, we have no proof,' said Hermione anxiously. 'Mr Greengrass' warning could have been for a lot of reasons. Plus,' she added hurriedly as Harry made to interrupt her, 'didn't he say you would know once you were ready? Doesn't that mean they'd tell us about it on their own? I really don't think you should be forcing the issue here, Harry.'

Harry turned to Daphne, expecting support from her end, but she shrugged helplessly. 'I'm with Hermione on this. Father doesn't say such things without a genuine reason. We've just got to trust that they will tell us when they think we're ready to know.'

Harry glared at her. He knew the girls were right, knew that it was nigh-on impossible to refute their logic regarding Dumbledore and the Order sharing information with him, but overwhelming curiosity still burnt inside him. It wouldn't hurt to try…would it?

'I'm still going to ask them,' he said, rather stubbornly. 'If Dumbledore refuses, that's fine, but I think it's worth a shot.'

He ignored the expressions of exasperation on Hermione and Daphne's faces. Ron, too, was giving him an it's-your-party look, clearly unwilling to support him outright, but he ignored that as well. Something told him that Dumbledore wouldn't say no to him – not fully, anyway.

A few minutes before the meeting was due to start, a loud CRACK echoed in the room, heralding the arrival of Kreacher the house-elf.

'Master Sirius wishes to inform young Master Harry and his friends that the meeting is over,' croaked the old elf with a low bow.

'Thank you, Kreacher,' said Harry. 'Could you let Sirius know we'll be down in a moment, please?'

'As Master Harry wishes.' Kreacher bowed low once again and disappeared with another CRACK.

'Did he just call you Master Harry?' asked Daphne in an astonished tone as they exited the room.

'Oh yeah,' said Harry, shrugging. 'He's been calling me that for a while now. I've tried to get him to stop, but he won't listen.'

'A while?' she repeated. 'But Harry, you aren't a Black.'

They were on the staircase now; he stopped and gave her an odd look.

'I know I'm not. What's that got to do with anything?'

'House-elves that are serving a particular family don't usually address someone outside of the family as Master or Mistress,' she said, lowering her voice as they crept past the portrait of Mrs Black, who was snoring softly behind the pair of moth-eaten curtains that hid her from view. For some reason, Harry thought he heard a note of anxiety mixed with surprise in Daphne's voice.

He stopped once they reached the landing before the final flight of stairs to the kitchen. Ron and Hermione looked between Daphne and Harry curiously.

'But I'm not part of the Black family,' said Harry frowning slightly.

'Exactly,' said Daphne. 'House-elves can follow orders from people outside the family if their current master directs them to do so. But they can't be directed to address just anyone as Master or Mistress. That's inherently tied to their own brand of magic.'

'What are you saying?' whispered Hermione.

'I think Kreacher has recognised Harry as his Master, along with Sirius,' said Daphne.

Harry stared at her.

'How does that even work?' said Ron. 'You just said he can't call anyone as his master –'

'There are two possibilities,' interrupted Daphne. 'Either Harry has some Black blood in his family – from a grandparent or a distant relative –'

'That's unlikely,' interjected Harry.

'– or Sirius has made you a part of the Black family,' she finished.

Three pairs of eyes stared at her in the relative darkness of the landing. The silence was a little unnerving.

'So…' said Ron slowly after a while, 'you think Sirius has included Harry in the Black family?'

Daphne nodded. 'It seems the most likely explanation. I can't think of any other reason why Kreacher would address Harry as Master.'

Harry felt a little dazed. Had Sirius really included him as a part of the Black family? What did that even mean? Ought he to change his surname to Black now, instead of Potter? But did he even want to be a part of this family – a family that had churned out the likes of Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange?

'What does that mean, though?' Hermione was asking.

'Nothing much, to be honest,' said Daphne. 'I suppose Sirius, as the head of the family, simply included Harry's name as an heir to the Black family estate. Kreacher's magic would have acknowledged that recognition and thought it fit to call Harry as his master.'

'An heir to the estate? Are you saying Sirius has written his will already?'

Harry's thoughts snapped back to the conversation at that. Sirius, writing his will? Did that mean –?

'All heads of old families have their wills written out as soon as they possibly can. They update them periodically for any changes that may happen in the family,' explained Daphne. 'That way, there's a clear succession plan for the whole family should something happen to the head. Father, for example, wrote his will last summer, after the Quidditch World Cup.'

'It's true,' said Ron, nodding along with Daphne's words. 'Dad's had his will written out for a while now. Bill told me about it – apparently, he asked Dad to remove Percy from the list of heirs after he stormed out last month.'

Hermione gasped. Daphne let out a low whistle. Harry, still a little stunned from the news about being a member of the Blacks, took some time to process what Ron had said.

'Did he do it, then?' Harry asked, at last.

'Nope,' said Ron. 'Dad point-blank refused to take Percy out of it. Still thinks he'll come around and realise his mistakes. Fat chance if you ask me.'

'Excluding a legitimate son from your will is a huge thing to do,' said Daphne. 'The son cannot challenge the exclusion because the head of the family has all the authority to do whatever he thinks best for the family. It's also difficult for the son to be reinstated by the family head – they'd have to be able to demonstrate that the grounds that mandated the exclusion in the first place now no longer exist.'

'This is complicated,' said Harry, rubbing his head.

'Tell me about it,' said Ron. 'All the Weasley brothers know this stuff, though. Dad made it a point to teach us this the moment we turn eleven, just in case…well, you know, if something happens.'

'A wise choice,' said Daphne, 'and something that Sirius must have done now, by the looks of it. He doesn't have children of his own, so as head of the family, he can choose whoever he wants as his heir.'

'Hang on a minute,' said Harry suddenly. 'How come he's allowed to do this stuff if he's still wanted by the Ministry?'

'Because the issues of wills and family succession are handled by Gringotts,' said Daphne promptly. 'The Ministry has no jurisdiction or authority over this. It's just as well, because the goblins don't bother about whether he's a criminal or not.'

'They really don't like getting mixed up with wizard affairs,' supplied Ron rather unnecessarily.

Hermione checked her watch. 'Let's go. We shouldn't keep Dumbledore and the Order waiting.'

'Most of them live here,' grumbled Ron, but he hurried down the stairs after her anyway, with Harry and Daphne walking quickly behind them. As they reached the door to the kitchen, Harry tugged on Daphne's arm.

'What?' she whispered.

'D'you reckon I should ask Sirius about it?'

The area where they stood was just as dark as the landing upstairs; yet, Harry could still make out Daphne's sapphire blue eyes illuminated by the little candlelight that permeated from the brackets along the wall.

'I don't think you need to worry about it, Harry,' she said softly, stepping close to him and cupping his face in her hand. 'I'm sure all Order members would have been asked to do this. The fact that Sirius could have included you in his will isn't a bad thing, you know.'

'I know,' he replied. 'It's just…well…'

If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't exactly sure how he felt about Sirius possibly including him in his will. On the one hand, he was touched that Sirius considered him as good as a son to designate him as an heir; on the other hand, the will made the ongoing war all the more realistic…and with it, the prospect of Sirius –

'I don't want to lose him again, Daphne,' said Harry, and he was surprised to hear his voice crack a little.

She simply looked at him for a moment, his face in her hands; then moved closer and kissed him softly. He kissed her back, and somehow, felt his panic and anxiety subside, and his reassurance return.

'You won't lose him,' she said, once they broke apart. 'Sirius won't disobey Dumbledore and leave this house, he's not stupid.' She kissed him again. 'Trust me.'

'I do,' he replied, their foreheads resting against one other.

'Good,' she said with a smirk. 'We'd have some problems otherwise.'

Harry chuckled, a little wanly, but he did feel a lot better. He squeezed her hand affectionately, then, still holding hands, led the way inside the kitchen.

The core members of the Order were yet to take their seats for the meeting they were to have with Harry and the others. Most of them were milling about and conversing in low tones with some of the stragglers from the previous larger meeting that had just taken place. Even Mundungus Fletcher seemed to have turned up for the meeting, easily identifiable by the strong scent of stale sweat and tobacco that had permeated the kitchen. Dumbledore was standing next to the Weasleys, deep in conversation with a couple that Harry recognised as Fleur's parents, Mr and Mrs Delacour. The other stragglers, however, were unrecognisable to Harry.

Harry and Daphne slipped inside, manoeuvred their way past the many empty chairs placed haphazardly around the room, to the relatively secluded corner where Ron and Hermione stood, looking around nervously.

'Seems like there was quite a crowd, eh?' said Ron as they approached. 'I wonder how they got so many members.'

'They seem foreign,' said Hermione, indicating a few wizards and witches conversing in languages Harry knew were not English. 'French and Romanian if I'm right.'

'Fleur and Charlie,' said Ron immediately. 'I bet they were the ones who've convinced this lot about You-Know-Who.'

'You speak of Charlie Weasley?' came an unfamiliar voice from Harry's left.

They turned to see a brown-haired wizard observing them keenly through his rather thick glasses.

'You know Charlie?' asked Ron, eyeing the wizard's long trench coat, and boots that looked as though they were made of dragon hide.

'I do, yes,' said the wizard, nodding eagerly. 'He is my good friend in Romania.' The man peered at Ron's thick red hair and nodded again. 'You must be his brother, yes?'

'Yeah, I'm Ron,' said Ron, a little defensively.

'Ah yes, Ronald,' said the wizard. 'Charlie has told us much about you.' His gaze slid over Ron to Hermione, then to Daphne, and finally to Harry. His eyes widened.

'Harry Potter!' he exclaimed, reaching out and grasping Harry's hand in a surprisingly tight grip. 'An honour to meet you, Mr Potter, a great honour!'

'Erm, thanks,' said Harry, embarrassed at the attention. Daphne reached out and squeezed his other hand lightly.

'But where are my manners?' said the wizard, suddenly looking flustered. 'I did not introduce myself, scuze. I am Vladimir Bogdan, from Romania. I work at the dragon reserve with Charlie Weasley.'

'Nice to meet you,' said Harry, still shaking hands with the man. He thought his fingers had already gone numb from the man's tight grip.

'Ah, the pleasure is mine, Mr Potter!' said the man happily. 'The pleasure is all mine.'

'Mr Bogdan,' said Hermione slowly, 'how do you know about the Order and Professor Dumbledore?'

The man – Mr Bogdan – let out a chuckle, finally letting go of Harry's hand; Harry tried to surreptitiously manoeuvre it behind his back so he could shake off the numb feeling.

'My dear lady, the whole world knows Albus Dumbledore!' said Mr Bogdan, in a patronising tone of voice. Hermione bristled slightly but did not respond. 'And dear Charlie told me about the Order of the Phoenix. A remarkable organisation, yes? A wonderful effort to fight the threat of You-Know-Who.'

'Yes, it certainly is,' said Daphne smoothly inserting herself into the conversation. 'I wasn't aware that You-Know-Who was known beyond the British Isles, though.'

'Oh no, my young lady,' said Mr Bogdan. 'You-Know-Who is well known on the mainland, yes, of course. Powerful allies reside in the Baltics and Slavic region. Useful contacts, too.'

'Contacts?' asked Harry.

'Influential people,' said Mr Bogdan, his voice dropping a notch. 'They are especially inside the Romanian Ministry of Magic. Our Minister is quite – ah, what is the word – sympathetic towards You-Know-Who. He is in favour of his agenda.'

'The Romanian Ministry supports You-Know-Who?' said Ron incredulously. 'But – the ICW –'

'The ICW wouldn't know that they do, would they?' said Hermione. 'I'm quite sure the Romanian Ministry presents a non-Dark front to the ICW and the rest of the magical world. Don't they, Mr Bogdan?'

'That is quite correct,' said Mr Bogdan with a rather grave nod. 'It is because of this that there is not much support from our government towards fighting the threat of You-Know-Who. He has free reign in recruiting numbers in our country and beyond.'

'Has he started, then?' asked Harry interestedly.

'I believe so, yes,' replied Mr Bogdan. 'We do not know how many, but he has tried to reach out to a few of my countrymen. Some of them have joined, but many have resisted.'

Something flared inside Harry – a feeling of hope. He hadn't noticed how depressing and morose the updates from Romania were, but the news that there were still some who refused to join Voldemort had ignited a spark of positivity within him.

'Those of us who resisted have come together to try and fight the others,' continued Mr Bogdan. 'Charlie and I have been helping in organising these groups, on Dumbledore's wishes.'

He glanced at his watch and jumped rather comically; Ron sniggered into his hand.

'Goodness!' he exclaimed. 'I am very late! Our Portkey leaves in five minutes!' He grasped Harry's hand tightly once more and shook it vigorously. 'Farewell, Mr Potter! I hope we meet again.'

And with a quick nod at the other three, he turned and hurried off to the door.

'What a funny man,' declared Daphne, watching him file out the room. 'I'm not sure if I want to meet him again.'

'He is rather strange,' agreed Hermione.

'Gave us some information, though, didn't he?' said Ron, leading the rest of them towards the long table where the core members of the Order were taking their seats. 'I mean, we'd never have found out that You-Know-Who was recruiting in Romania if he hadn't told us.'

'Let slip, more like,' said Harry, pulling out Daphne's chair for her. 'I don't think he's supposed to be talking about this with everyone he meets, do you?'

Ron didn't get a chance to answer, as by that time, they had already taken their seats and were waiting for Dumbledore, who was seated at the head of the table, to speak. His silver hair and beard gleamed in the candlelight, and his eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles as he looked at all of them.

'Good evening, Harry, Ronald, Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass,' he said, smiling at them.

'Good evening, Professor,' said Harry, grinning back. 'It's good to see you, sir.'

'And you, Harry,' said Dumbledore kindly. 'I must offer my belated congratulations on your successful acquittal before the Wizengamot. I heard Cornelius was completely outsmarted by your strategy.'

'Yeah, Mr Greengrass argued really well,' said Harry. Beneath the table, Daphne clasped his hand with hers and squeezed it.

'I must thank him when I see him next,' said Dumbledore. 'Do we know where he is?' he added, asking the room at large.

'Isabella told me that he was held up in urgent meetings today,' said Mrs Weasley.

'I've promised to give him an update when I see him at the Ministry, Albus,' said Mr Weasley.

'Well, that is that,' said Dumbledore. 'Now, let us proceed with our meeting. You may have noticed that I did not touch on specific items of discussion while the other Order members were around. It is my wish – and I am sure you would agree – that while it is not a question a mistrust, I would prefer not to share such information with everyone in the Order. Especially those who help us from outside the Isles.'

'Agreed, Dumbledore,' said Sirius, nursing a bottle of Butterbeer. He slid bottles to Harry and the others as he continued. 'Personally, I don't trust any of them yet. Anyone could be reporting to Voldemort with what we're discussing.'

'Constant vigilance,' growled Mad-Eye Moody.

'Voldemort has no need for an additional spy,' said Dumbledore. 'He is content with the information that he currently receives from Severus –'

'Snivellus,' muttered Sirius under his breath.

'– and I trust him completely, just as I trust the rest of the Order,' finished Dumbledore, but Harry knew he had heard Sirius.

'What did you discuss, Professor?' asked Ron interestedly. 'Can you tell us?'

Harry noticed Mrs Weasley pursing her lips, but she did not object to Ron's question. Harry couldn't tell if she had taken issue with Ron's boldness towards the headmaster, or whether she was still struggling with their increased participation in the Order.

'Certainly, Ronald,' said Dumbledore. 'The members were curious to know whether there was any progress at the ICW in recognising Voldemort's return. Unfortunately, my sources have informed me that there has been very little movement since my removal as Supreme Mugwump.'

'But why?' asked Hermione. 'I mean, surely they've understood what's going on.'

'Ah, well, there's the problem,' said Lupin with a wry smile. 'Nothing's going on at all.'

'No deaths, no disappearances,' said Tonks.

'Voldemort knows he needs to lay low right now if he wants to succeed in his plans,' said Sirius. 'He's doing the best he can to not draw any attention to himself. Unfortunately for us, he's gotten rather good at it.' He sighed, then added with a scowl, 'And then there's Britain's new ambassador to the ICW.'

'New ambassador?' asked Daphne curiously. 'Didn't we already have one at the ICW?'

'I was serving both roles during my time as the Supreme Mugwump,' said Dumbledore in a rather grave tone. 'Cornelius considered it as a cost saving option, instead of having a separate representative from the Ministry.'

'And now…' said Harry slowly.

'Lucius Malfoy,' said Sirius bitterly.

Harry's jaw dropped.

'No way!' exclaimed Ron, shocked. Hermione's and Daphne's eyes widened in astonishment.

'But he isn't a part of the Wizengamot,' said Daphne, looking around the room despairingly. 'You can't be a representative to the ICW if you aren't a part of the Wizengamot.'

'Fudge has been changing a lot of the rules lately,' said Kingsley in his deep voice. 'Now, anyone nominated by the Minister and seconded by someone on the Wizengamot can be appointed as the British ambassador to the ICW.'

Harry couldn't think of anything to say to this – there was just too much to comprehend. He felt winded, shocked, and angry, all at once. Lucius Malfoy – the man whose cold, grey eyes stared out unflinchingly at Harry tied to the tombstone in that graveyard, from beneath his Death Eater mask…the man who laughed jeeringly as he watched his master torture a fourteen-year-old boy…the man who still roamed free despite all his crimes – appointed as the representative to the ICW? What was Fudge thinking? How could he not see the truth – that Lucius Malfoy could not be trusted, that he was working for Voldemort? How could he not accept that Voldemort was, in fact, back?

With what seemed like an enormous effort, he pulled himself back to the conversation at hand.

'So, Fudge has got Lucius Malfoy telling the ICW that everything's nice and rosy in Britain, hasn't he?' Hermione was saying. There was an edge in her voice that Harry had not heard before – an undercurrent of anger against such obvious injustice.

'Yes,' said Mr Weasley. 'The silver lining in this is that that's the only thing he's done so far. Country ambassadors cannot say anything more than what they've been authorised to say by their home Ministries, and it seems that at the moment, Fudge hasn't told Malfoy to say anything else.'

'Which ties to what Voldemort wants, anyway,' said Lupin. 'Nothing out of the ordinary.'

'But if Lucius Malfoy is at the ICW, won't he be able to curse everyone else? Use the Imperius Curse on the representatives from other countries? Or even the new Supreme Mugwump?' asked Hermione.

'There is a risk of that happening, yes,' admitted Dumbledore. 'But I do not think Voldemort would look to make such a move at this time. No, I think his focus lies elsewhere. Until he reaches that goal, he would not dare move against the ICW.'

'Some glimmer of hope,' said Tonks. The sarcasm in her voice was not lost on everybody else.

'A glimmer that we must cling to, Nymphadora,' said Dumbledore. 'Without such hope, we are as good as defeated.'

'Hear, hear,' said Hestia Jones from the other end of the table.

'But there are other countries that support us, aren't there?' asked Ron. 'We were just talking to this bloke from Romania, a Vladimir Bogdan –'

'Oh, you met Vladimir, did you?' asked Charlie interestedly. 'What did he say?'

'Well, he said he was good friends with you,' said Hermione, and Charlie grinned. 'But he also said that the Romanian Ministry was secretly supporting You-Know-Who, and that You-Know-Who was recruiting in Romania and possibly beyond.'

'Unfortunately, that is true as well,' said Dumbledore. 'The Romanian Ministry has a long history of being supportive of Dark wizards and their ideologies. Our efforts there are a long shot at best, but every person we convince of the truth is one less person in Voldemort's ranks.'

Silence fell at the end of that response. Dumbledore had not said it outright, but everyone seemed to know what was left unsaid. And with that, Harry knew that this was the best time to bring up his point in the meeting.

'Professor Dumbledore,' he began, 'I have something to show you.'

Dumbledore looked at him inquiringly but did not say anything. Harry took that as assent to continue. He glanced at Hermione and nodded.

He could feel the curious stares of the other Order members upon him and Hermione as she wordlessly produced the notebook and the envelopes and handed them over to Dumbledore. The aged wizard frowned as he examined the notebook – naturally, thought Harry, as it was a Muggle notebook – before opening and reading it.

Almost immediately, he looked up, his eyes widened slightly. 'What is this, Harry?' he asked, concern evident in his voice.

'While I was with the Dursleys' this summer, I started receiving letters from anonymous people,' said Harry, and he explained about the contents of the letters, and the subsequent discussion between the four of them regarding their origins.

'…and I think this would be really useful to the Order, Professor,' finished Harry. His mouth was unusually dry, even though he hadn't spoken much. He was also uncomfortably aware of Sirius and Lupin's gobsmacked expressions, and Mrs Weasley's worried look.

Daphne seemed to sense his tension, for she squeezed his hand again.

'I – this is astounding, Harry,' said Dumbledore, still thumbing through the pages of the notebook. 'Did anything happen to you from those envelopes?'

'Nothing, sir,' said Harry firmly. 'I was perfectly fine when I opened and read them. In any case, I figured it would be better to write it down in a notebook, instead of going through the envelopes again and again.'

'Good call, lad,' growled Moody. His normal eye was staring at Harry, but his magical eye was fixed on the envelopes next to Dumbledore's hand. Harry could tell he was trying to see if there was anything harmful in them; but a few moments later, the magical eye whizzed in another direction. The envelopes seemed to have passed the test.

'Can we have a look, too, Albus?' asked Lupin. Dumbledore nodded, and the notebook and envelopes were promptly passed around the table.

The reactions were as expected – many of them displayed shock and disgust at the descriptions given for the gruesome spells, while expressing interest at the details of the wards and protective enchantments that were being used by Death Eaters. Bill, in particular, was looking over them quite closely.

'These wards are very similar to those used in Egyptian tombs,' he observed. 'They won't be easy to break, that's for sure.'

'But ze fact remains that zey are breakable,' chipped in Fleur. 'And zat zese Death Eaters can be taken down, non?'

'That is correct, Fleur,' said Dumbledore. 'However, I do not advocate an attack on Death Eater residences at the moment.'

Sirius and Lupin looked up from their perusal of the envelopes.

'What?' said Sirius. 'Why not, Dumbledore? This information is priceless – the Death Eaters wouldn't even know what hit them!'

'And nor would the Ministry, Sirius,' said Dumbledore. 'It would be senseless to conduct a raid on Death Eater homes when there is no proof to present to the Ministry about them being Death Eaters.'

'But, the Dark Mark –'

'The Dark Mark can and will be dismissed by the Ministry, Sirius,' said Dumbledore, cutting across his interruption. 'The Ministry refuses to see reason on Voldemort, and they would do so for any open provocation that we may do for the Death Eaters.'

'Dumbledore's right, Sirius,' said Lupin. 'We could be charged with treason, and we'd be chucked into Azkaban without getting a chance to explain ourselves.'

'Alright, alright,' said Sirius, slumping in his chair looking defeated. 'I figured we could – but yeah, you're right.'

But as Harry watched his godfather concede the argument, he thought he knew why Sirius was so insistent and eager to attack the Death Eaters. Sirius had been stuck in this house for a long time, and despite knowing very little of his godfather, Harry knew that he, Sirius, desperately wanted to get out of the house. Add to that the bonus of doing something for the Order, and the additional benefit that they might even capture the traitor Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius was in a right state.

I know how that feels, because that was me at the Dursleys' this summer.

Harry felt a sudden rush of sympathy towards his godfather. He wanted to tell him something after the meeting – but what would he say? That things would be alright? But when? That he'd be allowed to go out soon? He couldn't, not while Pettigrew was still at large and while the Ministry was still ignoring Voldemort's return.

What was more, Harry knew his departure for Hogwarts would only increase Sirius' feeling of loneliness. Granted, Lupin was still staying at headquarters, and yes, Kreacher's attitude had improved remarkably since the evening of Daphne's arrival at Grimmauld Place, but the emptiness of the house post September the first would probably do nothing to lift Sirius' spirits. He knew his godfather would want to contribute to the Order in a real tangible way – that's how I feel, he thought – and not doing anything would certainly chafe at Sirius.

If only the Ministry would wake up and realise the simple truth that Sirius was innocent, all of this would be a lot easier. If only they would sit up and take notice of the very real threat that Voldemort posed to the wizarding world, things would be a lot different. If only the Ministry realised that none of this was one big conspiracy or mystery that needed solving…

Not a mystery at all…

Something clicked in Harry's brain.

'The Department of Mysteries,' he said.

Dumbledore, who had been perusing some of the envelopes now, looked up sharply. 'I beg your pardon?'

'The Department of Mysteries,' repeated Harry, his voice sounding strangely confident and nervous at the same time. 'What's in it?'

For a fleeting second, Harry thought he saw shock and worry flash across his headmaster's face. But he must have imagined it, for the next second, Dumbledore looked normal as ever as he asked, 'Why do you ask, Harry?'

'I – I think that's where the weapon is, isn't it?' said Harry. 'The one Voldemort wants.'

Harry half expected Dumbledore to deny this, to yell at Harry for even raising this topic of discussion – but he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he merely continued to look at Harry, as though appraising him.

Once again, Harry had the feeling that Dumbledore's gaze was x-raying him – looking inside him. It was as though Dumbledore was trying to gauge Harry's reasons for asking this question. He was also, yet again, uncomfortably aware of the rest of the Order staring at him. He was sure they knew what was in the Department of Mysteries, or at least knew of its significance to Dumbledore and Voldemort.

At last, after a few moments, Dumbledore said, 'The Department of Mysteries holds many secrets, Harry. Some of them –'

'– are best left that way, yeah,' finished Harry. 'Mr Greengrass told me,' he added, as Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

'Indeed,' said Dumbledore. 'And I would suggest we heed that advice, Harry. I promise you that you will know when you are ready, but not right now. Focus on your Occlumency, strengthen your mind, and then you will know.'

Harry had expected this, but it came as a small blow nevertheless. He did not show his disappointment, however, but nodded. In any case, Dumbledore's response had been a little more elaborate than what Mr Greengrass had told him; if anything, what had been left unsaid was a lot more than what had actually been said. The fact that they were insisting on his improvement in Occlumency meant that he needed to be able to protect and shield his mind from intrusions before being trusted with information, which meant that there was something related to the Department of Mysteries that required protection.

He looked over at Hermione and saw her frowning slightly; he knew she had reached the same conclusion as he had. So had Daphne, if the sudden tightness in her grip on his hand was any indication.

I knew I was right.

'Speaking of the Ministry,' said Mr Weasley tentatively after a moment, 'we had a conversation with Madam Bones after Harry's trial, Albus.'

'Yes, Jonathan had mentioned it,' said Dumbledore, looking towards Mr Weasley. 'Please do elaborate, Arthur.'

Mr Weasley explained their meeting for the benefit of the rest of the Order. When he had finished, Dumbledore gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling, his fingertips resting against each other. 'This is certainly an interesting development,' he said softly. He paused for a moment, then asked, 'What do you think, Kingsley?'

Kingsley seemed to consider his response. 'I believe she may be convinced, Albus,' he said in his slow, deep voice. 'She asked Rowan last week to follow Crabbe and Goyle. She has also requested the Minister for additional security at Azkaban.'

'Fudge won't agree to that,' said Mr Weasley. 'He thinks the Dementors are more than enough.'

'What's more,' continued Kingsley, 'I overheard her asking her assistant to get some records related to communications with Azkaban in the last six months.'

Harry's eyes widened, as did the others'. Was Madam Bones actually going through with the investigation? Was there something in the Ministry records that could prove their theory that the Dementors were ordered there? Or would it show that, as Dumbledore had feared, the Dementors were taking orders from someone other than the Ministry?

'I see,' said Dumbledore, who appeared not to share the excitement of the possibility of the investigation by Madam Bones. 'She is correct in saying that we need to discuss this with her face to face. I shall send her an owl once I return to Hogwarts.' He looked at Mr Weasley once more. 'Was there anything else, Arthur?'

Mr Weasley shook his head. None of the other Order members had anything else to report, either.

'Very well,' said Dumbledore. 'If there is nothing else, let us call a halt to our discussions for today. I shall let you all know when we shall meet next.'

The general din of chairs scraping and feet moving about filled the room as the members of the Order got up and moved around the kitchen. Harry saw Hestia and Fleur exit the room before his attention was caught by Dumbledore's voice.

'I considered it prudent to bring you all your Hogwarts letters since I was to meet you today,' he said. He pulled out a stack of envelopes from the pocket of his robes and handed it to them. 'Molly,' he added to Mrs Weasley, 'might I ask you to give these to Messrs Fred and George Weasley, Miss Weasley, and Miss Astoria Greengrass?'

'Of course, Albus,' said Mrs Weasley, accepting the four envelopes. 'Well, if you four can give me your book lists, I'll head out to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get – Ron, dear, what is it?'

Harry, who had been examining his own book list and the usual letter that told him to take the train on September the first from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock in the morning, did not immediately notice Ron's action or Mrs Weasley's question. It was only when she let out a joyous exclamation that he looked up, startled.

'What the –'

There, resting on his best friend's right palm, was the scarlet and gold badge, with a large 'P' superimposed on the Gryffindor lion.

The Gryffindor prefect badge.

He stared at the badge, trying to comprehend what it meant, when another squeal distracted him: Hermione was holding up a similar badge in her hand, beaming.

'Congratulations Hermione!' exclaimed Daphne happily, engulfing her in a tight hug. 'And you, Ron!'

Then there was a general outcry of joyous exclamations as everyone moved towards Ron and Hermione to congratulate them. Everyone except Harry, who felt, for the second time that day, as though he'd been winded.

He had completely forgotten that House prefects were chosen in the fifth year. He had been too preoccupied with his trial and the possibility of being expelled to spare a thought for the badges that were surely winging their way towards people across the country. But if he had thought about it…was this what he would have expected? Had he really thought that Ron would be chosen ahead of him as a prefect?

Not really, no.

Did he think he was superior to Ron, in expecting the badge ahead of his best mate?

Well…

That doesn't make you superior to Ron, Harry.

His inner voice, so like Daphne's – calm and reassuring – had stirred once again.

But I definitely thought I was going to get it. And Ron took that from me. That makes me as bad as Malfoy!

You're not Malfoy. And Ron didn't take it from you, Harry. He didn't ask for it.

And at that moment, a wave of shame cascaded over Harry, dousing the fire of jealousy that had sprung up within him.

Ron had not asked for the badge from Dumbledore. This was not Ron's fault. And, Harry suddenly thought fiercely, he'd be damned if he ruined this moment for his best friend. He wasn't going to sulk and laugh and take the mickey out of Ron for finally beating Harry at something.

He wasn't Draco Malfoy.

Harry stood up, relieved to find that his legs weren't shaking. He crossed the few paces that separated him and his two best friends and said, 'Congratulations, Ron and Hermione. You – you guys really deserved it.'

They both turned to him, wide smiles on their happy faces. Hermione's eyes were glistening.

'Harry, mate –' Ron began, but Harry shook his head. He knew what Ron was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it.

Daphne moved next to him and wrapped her arm around Harry's waist, smiling fondly at the other two. The four of them looked at each other for a moment, then as one, they stepped forward into a four-way group hug.

'Congratulations you two,' said Harry again, his voice muffled between Ron's shoulder and Hermione's bushy hair.

'Thanks Harry,' said Hermione, sniffling slightly. After they'd stepped back, she continued, 'Harry, would it be alright if I borrowed Hedwig? I want to let Mum and Dad know. I mean, prefect is something that they understand.'

'Yeah, sure.'

'Well done, both of you,' said Dumbledore, smiling genially at Ron and Hermione.

'Thank you, sir,' said Ron. Behind him, Mrs Weasley sniffled heartily as she stood with Mr Weasley. Bill and Charlie were grinning, while Fred and George – who had sauntered down a few moments earlier – were winking and laughing to each other. Harry knew they would never let Ron live this down.

'Harry, I think I owe you an explanation,' said Dumbledore quietly to Harry, as Ron and Hermione were engulfed by Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill, and Charlie once more. Daphne remained by his side, listening closely.

'Sir,' said Harry, looking startled. 'I don't – it's fine, Professor, honestly.'

'Nevertheless,' said Dumbledore, 'I feel I must offer it to you, even if you do not deem it necessary. As you know, Professor McGonagall is in charge of choosing the Gryffindor House prefects. I confess that she had indeed recommended your name first, but I decided to go with Ronald instead.'

Harry couldn't help the affection that gushed up inside him for his Head of House.

'Harry, since you were present at the discussion with Madam Bones, you must know that Dolores Umbridge is coming to Hogwarts as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.'

Harry nodded. He noticed that Daphne, however, looked surprised. He could not help the wave of dislike that washed over him at the sound of her name.

'You also know the real reason for why she is coming to Hogwarts,' continued Dumbledore. 'She will do everything in her power to try and discredit the pair of us in the eyes of the school and the wizarding world. I felt that, if you had been chosen as a prefect, she may have done something even worse than usual.'

'But sir, couldn't you do something about it?' asked Daphne. 'I mean, she's only a Professor, and you're, well, the Headmaster…'

To their surprise, Dumbledore chuckled. 'While I do have authority over my teachers in my school, Dolores Umbridge is not an ordinary teacher. She has the backing of the entire Ministry, and the Minister for Magic himself. She would not go down without a fight, and I refuse to let my students or teachers become collateral damage in that case.'

Not for the first time, Harry saw Dumbledore look like an old and tired man. He felt a rush of sympathy towards his headmaster.

'What do you suggest I do, Professor?' he asked.

Dumbledore smiled at him. 'Keep your head down and continue working. Focus on your studies and your Occlumency practice. We will need to find a way to continue your sessions in the castle, but until then, you must practice shielding your mind. Do you understand, Harry? I cannot stress how important it is that you learn to close off your mind completely, so you must keep practising.'

Dumbledore had such a serious expression on his face by the end of his statement that Harry did not even consider asking him for a reason, let alone refusing to do so.

His response, however, was drowned by a loud CRACK, followed by shouts from the middle of the room. He instinctively drew his wand, expecting an intruder, ready to defend himself –

– and almost dropped it in shock at the sight of the newcomers.

'Dobby?'

It was indeed Dobby the house-elf, but he was not alone.

Lying on the floor beside him, her eyes closed, the right side of her face drenched in scarlet blood, was Iris Parkinson.

To be continued…