A/N: If things are on schedule, I'm posting this in Chicago, either from my brother's flat or the airport. If not, I'm home again and everything should be smoother for the rest of the summer, bar one possibility when my family goes out of the country for a brief jaunt…that could get fun. :D

-C

Although Sera had been waiting for a personal meeting with Dumbledore since the disastrous night when the whole world had tumbled down, she did not get one until she was back with the Macmillans and standing in the back garden on a cool July morning. There were many things she wanted to ask, but she stood, silent, hoping he might answer some of them without the pain of her having to speak first.

Dumbledore strolled her through the garden, stopping to examine some of Mrs. Macmillan's roses here and there. Sera had no interest in the garden—it was beautiful, but she'd seen it so often, it no longer held any magic for her. It wasn't hers, it would never be hers, and everything that might one day be hers was still a mystery.

"You have your mother's capacity for calm in a crisis," Dumbledore finally said, "for which I am grateful. Your father takes orders well, if they're what he wants to hear, but if we had two such impulsive characters to manage…. Everything in life is a delicate balance, Seraphina. Sometimes we do not dance the line correctly."

"Are you upset that Harry introduced me to him?" she asked softly, pausing to trace her fingers along a velveteen rose petal.

"Not at all," he said brightly. "It is good, especially in these dark times, that you have something positive to cling to. I do apologize, however, that I did not realize sooner that the Moody so interested in you was an imposter. I do not know how much information he passed back to Voldemort, but I do believe you featured in it, to some degree."

The morning was pleasant in its coolness, but a chill ran over her arms. She tucked them behind herself and folded her hands. She doubted it would make a difference. She wasn't a very interesting or important person. But she thought of what the Moody imposter had said about bait….

"Should I separate myself from Harry?" she asked. Her voice was very small now, terribly tight in her throat. Harry had been a positive in her life, something warm and pleasant, a connection to things she'd always wanted in her life but couldn't access, like family and belonging and purpose. But if she was a weakness….

"Harry will have to have some separation from things he has grown used to," Dumbledore said. His shoulders were suddenly heavy, his voice full of mourning. "It is a matter of…security. But that is an individual choice I cannot make for you, Seraphina. Sometimes space is a good way to protect those we love, but I believe your parents made that choice during the war, and it did not have the desired results. You could cut yourself out of his life to protect him and find that it does no good, and all you have done is deprive both of you of a rich, rewarding friendship. There is risk in all things. As to what you are prepared to risk? That is your choice."

She nodded, not certain. She knew Harry would need support, understanding. Was that her responsibility? Should it be? Could it be? But when she thought of not writing, not speaking, not holding him when he was in distress that night…. No, she couldn't cut herself off from him, even if it was selfish or foolish.

They reached a lily pond and Dumbledore sat on the edge of the water feature, smiling up at her again.

"The Weasleys have extended an invitation for you to spend the remainder of your summer with them, if you would be inclined."

"Oh," she said. It was a generous offer, certainly, and she would like to see Ginny…. Any other year she might have jumped at it, but she thought of her father, alone or with Professor Lupin….

"Of course, the Weasley's are staying in London for the remainder of the break," he said, touching the side of his nose teasingly.

"London," she repeated, half a question. The Weasleys did not live in London and could not afford to simply spend over a month in a hotel of some sort. Which meant…they were staying with someone, near someone.

"At the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," he said pointedly, "at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. If you take my meaning."

A kind of shiver ran through her, and she tilted her head. She felt a rush of excitement and she said, "Fidelius?"

His lips twitched, and he said, "Your father did say you would know. Very good, Seraphina. I do not know if you have much to pack, but I can stay and have tea with Mrs. Macmillan and take you there directly, if that is agreeable to you."

"I have almost nothing to pack," she said eagerly. "I've barely unpacked from school."

Secretly, she had been hoping someone would extend some opportunity for her to visit her father, but the rest of the summer? It was more than she'd hoped for. She hugged Dumbledore unceremoniously and he laughed, patting her hair before she hurried back up to the house, rushing up to her room. She heard Mrs. Macmillan calling after her, but the calling stopped, presumably when Dumbledore caught up to her and began to explain the offer extended. Sera shoved a few things into her trunk, this and that, extra books, everything she could think of. She even considered using a sneaky charm to extend her trunk's capacity, but she liked to follow rules where she could.

With a sigh, she latched her trunk and carefully dragged it out of her room, down the hall, and to the top of the stairs. Dumbledore stood at the bottom with Mrs. Macmillan, who seemed bemused, but pleasant, nonetheless.

"It's very good of them to do this," she said, as if she'd been repeating it several times. "I am sure you'll like to see Ginevra. But perhaps I should send you with some gold?"

A rush of pink heat hit Sera's cheeks at the not unkind reference to the Weasleys and their poverty. Sera shook her head sharply and said, "I have gold of my own. I barely used any all year. Don't worry. They won't pay much. I don't eat much, and I could wash my own clothes."

"I doubt very much that Molly will let you," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. He waved his wand to summon her trunk to the bottom of the steps as she hurried down them on foot. "Thank you very much for releasing her to me."

"Not at all," Mrs. Macmillan said uncertainly. "My husband's feelings on the Fudge business are not my own. I…I don't know that I believe everything you say, Albus, but I know you're not mad."

"I'm very obliged to you," Dumbledore said, amused, and he held out his arm to Sera for Side-Along Apparation.

Grimmauld Place was a very average Muggle London Street in the Victorian style. Sera watched as Number Twelve popped up very suddenly between the other two houses, and she followed Dumbledore up to the door. He tapped the front door, ignoring the doorbell, and Sera could hear the locks slowly unlocking.

Her father was in the main hall, pacing. Professor Lupin stood on the other end, leaning against a banister for a staircase. The entrance hall was dark, and the door closed behind them swiftly, but when her eyes adjusted, Sera looked up and could see at least five floors up from where she stood. Her father rushed across the hall and wrapped her in a hug and she embraced him back, but her eyes lighted on a trolls-foot umbrella stand, a gallery of portraits along the entrance corridor, and one was covered in plush velvet curtaining.

"It's huge," Sera said, clutching at her father's neck. He'd put some weight on, trimmed his hair and shaved his face. He almost looked like that young man from the photographs, but his eyes were still a bit hollow. She supposed that would never truly go away.

"Shh," he said, winking. "Don't want to wake anything."

"Wake anything?" Sera hissed, horrified.

"Portraits, mostly," he said bitterly, glancing at the covered one. "But this house hasn't been lived in in years, so there's all manner of things. Boggarts, ghouls, who knows?"

She hummed. Dumbledore, said something to Professor Lupin at the far end of the stairs and then gestured toward a door. Her father nodded and said, "I'll give you the tour, lovely."

Sera let go of him, watching Dumbledore and Professor Lupin disappear downstairs.

"Where are they going?" she asked.

"Kitchen," he said, gripping her hand. "We'll go there at the end. Down here," he whispered, gesturing up a side corridor, "is the formal dining and the library. It was my father's study, once upon a time. Once it's clean and clear, you're welcome to it."

"So this is your house?" she asked, following him up the stairs, trying to ignore the heads of house-elves lining the wall on the landing. "The one you left?"

"At sixteen, yeah," he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "And now I'm back. I'd rather have raised you in Cressida's family home, but here we are."

"Why are we here?" she asked, pausing on the landing with him.

"The protections are first-rate," he said with a shrug. "It's large, and my family were paranoid. Unplottable, Muggle-repelling, almost as difficult to find as Hogwarts. Drop a Fidelius Charm into the mix, and you won't find a safer headquarters. The drawing room is down this way, two-story. God knows why. Also, Hermione and Ginny are sharing a room down this way."

"Right," she said, smiling slightly. "Hermione's here?"

"Have you ever known her not to want to be in the thick of it?" he said, winking again. She followed him up to the second floor. "Ron's down this way. Harry will stay with him, too, when he comes."

"When's he coming?"

Her father's face darkened as he shrugged, leading on. She had a feeling that had been a hotly-debated point, and he was losing. On the third floor, there were three bedrooms: one for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, one for Fred and George, and one for Bill. The fourth floor had two bedrooms…

"Remus is in the one," he said, gesturing one direction. "The other is the master. I've put Buckbeak in there."

"The hippogriff is in the master bedroom?" she said, startled.

He was grinning. She supposed putting a giant creature in his parents' bed was a crowning glory to youthful rebellion. Sera didn't argue as he led her up to the fifth floor.

"I'm down here, on the end," he said, pointing one way. "I've put you here, in this closest door. If that's alright?" She nodded eagerly. "The one on the end is for as-needed basis. It'll probably act as an infirmary or a stopover for people. Ideally, we'd have more rooms for that, but there's an awful lot of Weasleys."

"Yes, there are," she said, grinning. "There's another floor?"

"Yeah, those are…" He hesitated. "Those are out of bounds. I…my old bedroom, and my brother's. Oh, no, they're safe, but it feels weird to put someone in them. Emergencies only. They're full of our old stuff, and I…don't want to clean them out."

Sera nodded. She couldn't imagine how difficult it would be, to return to this home after so many years, after all he'd gone through. She took his hand as he told her there were stairs to the attic on the top floor, as well, and they descended all the way down to the ground floor, then down to the basement level.

The kitchen was large. Molly was already started on dinner, with Ginny and Hermione peeling root vegetables. At one end, there was a massive table, probably as long as whatever sat in the formal dining room, and Sera understood why the formal room wasn't in use. Dumbledore and Remus Lupin sat at the far end of the table. Her father steered her toward them, and she sat beside him at the table, aware that something of importance was about to happen.

"Now, this is a very secret organization, Seraphina," Dumbledore said softly. "You will see and hear things here that cannot be repeated. I trust you to be discrete." She nodded. His face softened and he said even softer, "And you must swear to me that you will not write anything about any of this to Harry, not about the Order or being with your father or anything you see or hear or do here. Is that clear?"

She hesitated. She looked from her father to her former professor to her headmaster. They were all looking at her expectantly. She understood this was a war, and she understood the need for secrecy. But Harry…Harry was the one fighting the hardest battle of all.

"I do understand," she said slowly, "but I won't swear."

Mrs. Weasley stopped what she was doing at the stove and looked up, startled. Likely, everyone had sworn without any hesitation. Her father's hand tightened, but he said nothing. Dumbledore's face was unreadable, his eyes searching her face.

"Your letters will be censored, Seraphina," he said softly. "Anything you do choose to write will be removed."

"I understand," she said softly.

"Surely it would be easier for you to censor yourself."

"Easier, perhaps," she said, her shoulders tightening, "but I don't think it would be right."

Her father let out a short breath. Remus was looking between her father and her, then back again very rapidly. Dumbledore's face remained passive, but his eyes did twinkle slightly. Perhaps he was amused? Perhaps proud? She couldn't tell.

"Then we will censor your letters," he said finally, patting her hand. "Your father's daughter after all. Keep her choice in mind, Sirius."

"I won't hide things from her," her father said, almost stubbornly. At this, Dumbledore's lips twitched.

"Then I shall have a great deal to censor," he said, taking his leave.

Once Dumbledore was gone, Molly put a pot to simmer, tapped the stove, and ushered the girls upstairs, following them up. She hissed something about privacy, and Ginny and Hermione both waved as they passed, Ginny winking. When the door to the basement closed, Sera sank into her chair, deflating slightly.

"You're not telling Harry anything?" she asked her father.

He winced, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"That's orders, lovely," he said, frowning. "The thing about orders…they're not always what you want to do, but there's a reason. Dumbledore always has a reason." The words were tight, and she wondered what other orders he didn't want to follow, but she bit the edge of her tongue.

"Seraphina, I want to apologize," Remus said softly. "I…I wish I could have told you last summer, but I didn't know how without alarming you."

"It's alright," she said. He hung his head slightly, but she really didn't blame him. "If you'd told me without my having a chance to meet him, I don't know how I'd have reacted. But things have worked out, haven't they?"

"Indeed," he said, lifting his head slightly and smiling at them. "I think Cressida would be very pleased to see the two of you."

Her father let out a bark of laughter and squeezed her shoulders joyfully.

"She'd say I was spoiling the bloody view, she would. Mind you, we did one thing right, didn't we? Look at her, Moony, look at our beautiful girl." Sera felt her cheeks flush as both men smiled at her, but she didn't try to sink into the chair. They deserved this moment. "Mind you," he father added, "she does look like her mum, so she got off easy there."

"I recall plenty of girls staring at you in school, Sirius, don't be modest," Remus said with a snort. "Sera never stood a chance. I heard you went to the Yule Ball with Harry."

"He really needed a date," Sera said, shrugging, trying to shrink into the chair now. "At least people stopped asking when I told him I'd go. It wasn't so bad. We only had to dance one song."

"That sounds more like me than Cressida," her father said with a bark of laughter. "Oh, we've got a guest for dinner you'll get on with, lovely. My cousin's daughter is an Auror; she's joined up. She's brilliant. I think you two will get on great. Moony thinks she's tops."

Remus's neck flushed slightly as he said, "I think Nymphadora is a very capable witch, yes. If she could control her limbs, she'd be first-rate."

"Clumsy?" Sera asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe," her father said, still laughing. "She gets excited and she can't stay upright, like a baby deer. I should warn you, call her Tonks. She hates her name. My cousin did that awful thing our family does and gave her a mouthful of a name."

"My name's a mouthful," Sera said, half an argument.

Remus smiled tightly and leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper.

"Yes, but Seraphina is a great deal lovelier than Nymphadora, wouldn't you agree?"

She couldn't argue with that, so Sera accepted some chocolate that Remus slipped out of his robes and curled up against her father's shoulder, listening patiently to stories they deigned to tell her from their youth. They sounded wild, adventurous, and a bit reckless at times, but she supposed that was part of growing up, and more so growing up in a war. It occurred to her, perhaps for the first time, that this shadow she was growing up under was the same one her parents had gone through school under. Her mother didn't survive, but her father—through the long way around—seemed to be doing well. How many of her friends would make it? Would she?

A shiver ran down her spine and her father suggested they sit by the fire with some butterbeer. Sera didn't argue as they moved to the fireplace, and she quietly asked, "How did you become an Animagus?"

Remus's eyes flashed with concern and a bit of alarm, but her father's enthusiasm barreled both men forward, telling the tale of how they accomplished this remarkable feat at such a young age. Sera took mental notes, curled up on the sofa, and she crafted a letter in her head, a letter for Harry. She wondered just how much the Order would cut before it landed in Harry's hands.

A/N: So Sera is staying at Headquarters all summer, Sirius eagerly welcomes his daughter, Sera refuses to do her part to keep Harry in the dark, and the Marauders relish an opportunity to relive the good times…. This was one of my favorite of the early chapters to write, something really positive before things get truly messy. And for those who've read my other work, I'm sure you believe me when I say things will get soooo messy.

Review Prompt: What do you think Harry will make of Sera's blacked-out letters?

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Cheers!

C