Written in the Stars - Reinforcements

Reinforcements

The mood at Hogwarts had not been what it once was since the Death Eater attacks had commenced so many months prior. It wasn’t as though the separate houses intermingled much to begin with, but there had always been polite conversation between them.

Other than the Slytherin and Gryffindor students.

Now, however, there were no exchanges.

Each student in each house spoke only to those wearing the same robes as them, and the tension because of what was happening outside the castle walls was palpable within.

With news of what had happened to the Boot family, the Ravenclaws had withdrawn, and the Hufflepuffs had followed suit after the fire at Bones Manor.

It all made for school being a rather unpleasant experience and Pansy was grateful that this was her final year.

Oddly, the Great Hall seemed to be a little livelier than it had been recently as she entered, and when she took her seat at the Slytherin table, the reason for such was placed in front of her by a concerned Daphne.

“Is he out of his mind?” she questioned.

Pansy frowned as she read the headline of The Daily Prophet and shook her head.

Skimming through the contents of the article, there was no denying the truth of what had been written, even if it had been produced by Rita Skeeter.

Pansy released a deep breath.

“Harry never does anything without a reason,” she replied. “I suppose he got tired of what was happening and everyone refusing to acknowledge it.”

Still, it was a bold and likely foolish move.

There would be repercussions for what he had done, but Pansy knew Harry well enough to know that he wouldn’t care.

“Speaking about it publicly…” Daphne murmured.

Pansy nodded her understanding.

“The thing is, he means every word of it,” she said confidently. “Harry would not say it if he didn’t. Just look at Draco.”

The Malfoy heir was holding court with the other seventh-year boys whose parents were undoubtedly already aligned with the Dark Lord.

“He looks nervous, doesn’t he?”

Draco had been acting rather oddly since he’d returned from the Christmas holidays the previous year.

Before then, when the attacks had begun, he had been rather smug, and downright cruel to other students he knew he could get away with bullying.

Having returned from the holidays, he had been much more subdued and had left the other students alone.

Either Lucius had instructed him to conduct himself in such a way, or someone else had done so in a less pleasant manner.

Could Harry have gotten to him?

Pansy had mentioned Draco’s behaviour in a letter, and Harry had been in Britain for the festive period.

She frowned thoughtfully to herself.

Regardless of what had happened, Draco had been much quieter for the remainder of the school year and the beginning of this one.

“Look at how excited everyone is,” Daphne urged, nodding towards the other house tables where the students were discussing the article amongst themselves.

“He gives them hope,” Astoria piped up. “He killed him before, didn’t he? Maybe everyone thinks that he will do it again. I hope he does.”

Daphne offered her sister a rare smile as she nodded her agreement.

“I hope so too,” she whispered.

(Break)

“A filthy half-blood?” Bellatrix raved.

She had been pacing back and forth around the room since the newspaper had arrived, and though Narcissa was not thrilled that Potter had somehow claimed the Black lordship, she had somewhat expected it.

“Did you know about this?”

“I had my suspicions,” Narcissa confirmed. “Not that there is anything that can be done. The Lord’s ring has acknowledged him as the head of the family. Remember, Bella, you may be a Black by blood but you do not carry the name anymore.”

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at Narcissa.

“He is a half-blood!”

“And the Lord Black,” Narcissa reminded her sister. “You chose serving the Dark Lord over the family, as did most of us.”

“You didn’t,” Bellatrix accused.

“I chose to marry a man who serves him. It is no different in the eyes of the other families. After the choices we made, the Blacks were done. If Potter did not take the lordship, it would have only been absorbed into the Malfoy line.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know,” Narcissa murmured. “If Potter kills Lucius and Draco…”

“He will do no such thing!”

Narcissa wished she could believe her sister, but she could not dismiss the feeling that it was indeed a possibility that Harry Potter would get to them if he wished to.

Cassiopeia would not throw her lot in with someone she did not have the utmost faith in, after all.

(Break)

It was an apoplectic Cornelius Fudge that stomped towards the offices of The Daily Prophet with his auror guard in tow and Lucius Malfoy keeping pace to his right.

The previous day, the Minister had been enjoying a much-needed respite from the stress of his job, only to be informed that none other than Harry Potter had arrived to the Wizengamot meeting and caused a slew of problems.

The boy had the temerity to claim the title of Lord Black, Dolores was now being held in Azkaban and was under investigation for a myriad of ridiculous crimes, and Potter had declared that the Dark Lord had returned publicly!

Cornelius did not know what he was playing at, but it was evident that Potter was not of a sound mind.

Having met him at the World Cup final, he had hoped that perhaps they would remain on courteous terms, but it seemed that Potter’s words had not been empty, after all.

He had declared that he would make changes when he came of age, and already, he had.

It was enough to give Cornelius a throbbing headache and undo what good his day off had done for him.

“I want to see Cuffe, and I mean now!” he demanded to the receptionist, standing at his full height.

The woman behind the desk did not flinch but tapped a runes before her with the tip of his wand.

Only a moment later, she seemingly received a response and she offered Cornelius and his entourage a smile.

“Mr Cuffe will see you now, Minister,” she replied, her tone laced with faux politeness.

Cornelius, however, did not have time to chide meaningless receptionists, not when he had more important things to attend to.

His furious pace continued as he made his way through the corridors of the building, and he did not feel compelled to knock as he reached the editor’s office.

Slamming the door open with an obscenely loud crash, he glared at the rotund man.

“What is the meaning of this, Cuffe?” he spat, holding up the copy of the morning edition he had brought along.

“Isn’t it marvellous?” Cuffe returned excitedly. “We are having to complete a second run. It has sold out everywhere.”

Cornelius’s jaw tightened.

“It is nonsense,” he growled. “None of this is true!”

Cuffe frowned.

“Well, considering Rita spoke with several people who were present, I beg to differ,” he replied with a shrug. “I am compelled to believe what has been written, as I hope are the public. Strange things are happening, Fudge, and you don’t seem to be doing a damned thing about them.”

“Sirius Black is behind these attacks!” Cornelius explained.

It was the only possibility that made sense.

Black had escaped Azkaban and returned to free his cousin and the other Death Eaters.

“We both know that is false, Minister, don’t we?” a cold voice questioned.

Cornelius swallowed deeply as Potter stepped into the office.

“I wouldn’t bother drawing your wand, gentlemen,” he added to the accompanying aurors. “I have no intention of harming the Minister. Not with magic, at least. Now, what were you saying about my godfather?”

Potter took a seat in one of the free chairs and crossed his legs casually, waiting for an answer.

Cornelius choked on his words for a moment before managing to formulate a response.

“It has to be true!” he said stubbornly. “How else did they escape!”

“The answer to that is in today’s newspaper,” Potter replied simply. “You know as well as I do who killed the muggles Sirius was accused of murdering. You know that Pettigrew is alive, and out of respect for the deal we made, I kept that information out of the public sphere. Now, I am no longer inclined to do so, Fudge. I had hoped that perhaps we could find some common ground and work with one another, but as long as you continue to have your tongue rammed up his arse,” he added, jerking a thumb towards Lucius, “that will not happen.”

Cornelius’s gaze shifted to Lucius who was glaring at Potter.

“He is not back!” the Minister hissed.

“Then keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” Potter returned with a shrug. “The blood of those that are slaughtered is on your hands, Minister. You may choose to manipulate the evidence to suit your narrative, but the people are not as foolish as you think. They know the truth, and I will ensure that they see it.”

“There is nothing to see!”

“You mean like the Death Eaters that were found murdered in the Department of Mysteries?” Potter questioned.

“H-how do you know about that?” Cornelius sputtered.

Potter stood and approached him, his mere presence forcing a shiver down the Minister’s spine.

“I know more than you could imagine, Fudge,” he whispered dangerously. “I’ve been having a very interesting and informative chat with our favourite editor here. I have provided him with all the evidence he needs to destroy you, but then if he did that, you wouldn’t live much longer. The moment you become useless to the Dark Lord, you will be killed and replaced. I am not Dumbledore, so I will not implore you to reconsider anything. To me, you are a lost cause and your days are numbered. Unless you choose to stop being an ignorant prick and do what is right, your days are numbered. And no, that isn’t a threat from me to you. I can simply sit back and watch, but if you choose to change your mind, you need only reach out to me.”

Cornelius swallowed deeply.

Potter was unhinged.

That was the only explanation for this ludicrous behaviour.

“Did you pass on my message, Malfoy?”

Lucius did not dignify Potter with a response, and the latter laughed humourlessly.

“Of course you will not confirm it here,” he sighed. “I expect he is quite angry, and if he isn’t, he will be when he reads the paper. Give him my best, will you? Oh, and tell him that my offer stands anytime he wishes to accept it. Come and face me in public, and I will give him exactly what he wants.”

Again, Lucius offered no response, but the vein in his temple pulsed angrily.

“Auror Dawlish, did Mrs Cattermole make it home safe?”

“She did, Lord Potter…Black,” the man corrected.

“Either is fine, Auror Dawlish, and thank you for your assistance, it is most appreciated.”

With that, Potter took his leave of the office and Cornelius could only stare at the door he had left open.

Coming here had achieved nothing and had only served to worsen his headache.

Without another word to Cuffe, the Minister also exited the room and made his way out of the building, followed once more by Lucius and the aurors.

“I told you, Cornelius, the boy is quite delusional,” the former murmured as they walked the length of the alley with the whispers of the pointing passers-by ringing in their ears.

“What can be done, Lucius?”

“Well, if Cuffe refuses to correct his error, then we can do it ourselves,” the man responded thoughtfully. “The Ministry can produce its own material for the public to read. We can condemn Potter’s actions and inform them of the truth.”

Cornelius swallowed deeply as he nodded.

It was all well and good but the problem the Minister had was that he no longer knew what the truth was.

(Break)

The commotion around the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place was quite the sight to behold. Since the Order had been reformed, Sirius had not seen the group as animated as they were now, discussing Harry’s antics in the Wizengamot.

Most seemed to be displeased by his showing, and though Sirius was concerned that provoking Voldemort in such a way was not the wisest move, his inner Marauder allowed him to feel amused.

He was proud of Harry, and it did not matter what anyone else felt about what he had done.

“It was reckless!” Tiberius Ogden exclaimed.

“Did you speak up during the meeting?” Moody questioned.

“Well, no,” Ogden murmured in response.

Moody merely offered the man a grin before taking a sip from his flask.

The ex-auror seemed to be revelling in the chaos around him.

Still, the conversation around the table continued until Albus entered the room, his expression unreadable, but Sirius believed he too did not approve of Harry’s approach.

“What are we going to do about him, Albus?” Bill Weasley questioned.

“What are we going to do about him?” Sirius scoffed. “You are going to do nothing!”

“It’s alright, Sirius,” Harry broke in as he entered the room and took the seat next to him. “I’m more than capable of handling myself and my affairs.”

The members of the Order stared at him for a few moments, surprised by his presence.

“What you did was foolish and reckless!” Hestia Jones said accusingly.

Harry nodded as he helped himself to an orange from the fruit bowl and began peeling it.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Molly Weasley demanded.

Harry frowned at the woman.

“First of all, as you are in my house, you will address me with the respect befitting a man of my status,” he chastised, “and secondly, I have many things to say. I will get to them in my own time. Dumbledore, do you wish to begin this meeting?”

Sirius did his best to hide his smirk as he turned his attention to the headmaster who cleared his throat.

“Well, I called this meeting to discuss what occurred during the meeting yesterday,” Albus explained.

“What happened was that I prevented an innocent woman from being imprisoned, I had that Umbridge woman sent to Azkaban, and I gave the other idiots that sit on the Wizengamot a much-needed kick up the arse,” Harry reeled off. “I even managed to ruffle a few feathers along the way, so I would consider it quite the success.”

The Order members stared at Harry dumbly.

“Do you think it was the wisest course of action?” Albus asked curiously.

“Probably not, but something drastic had to be done,” Harry answered unabashedly. “Tell me, how is the war going for our side so far?”

None answered and Harry snorted.

“Badly,” he continued. “None of you have captured any Death Eaters. You have failed to prevent any of the attacks from taking place, and you have failed to gather any useful information. It is a complete shit show and is panning out exactly how the first war against him went. You got lucky last time. I do not intend to rely on luck to put an end to this.”

It was strange to see such a usually outspoken group of people being cowed by his godson, but even Sirius could find nothing he could disagree with that Harry had said.

“Goading him like that will provoke an unpleasant reaction,” Arthur Weasley pointed out.

“And further opportunities for us to capitalise on it,” Harry returned. “I am willing to work with you, but not a single person here can tell me that the Order has been an effective group in this war or the last. You rely on reactive action, and I’m sorry, it is useless. If we want to win this war, we must be proactive. You may not want to get your hands dirty, and that is fine, but I will not sit around with a thumb up my arse waiting for things to happen. You did that last time and how many died?”

“Too many,” Sirius answered tiredly.

Harry nodded.

“You might not like or agree with my tactics, but I have already killed at least five Death Eaters. That’s five more than all of you combined. That is how this war will be won, not by trying to bring them in. That will only get more of you killed, and it will be your own doing. I’m not here to fuck around and be the good guy that everyone roots for. I am here to kill Voldemort and anyone else who gets in my way of that.”

“Good lad,” Moody praised.

The others murmured amongst themselves and looked towards Dumbledore who offered them a sad smile.

“Harry is right,” he sighed, much to the surprise of the others. “I cannot say I agree with his methods, but this is war. Those of us old enough to have lived through the Grindelwald years understand what is at stake, and all of us were alive to see Voldemort’s first rise to power. We cannot allow it to be the same as it was.”

“So, you wish for us to use lethal force against them?” Arthur questioned.

“No,” Albus denied. “I am asking that we continue to support Harry in his endeavours. War is an ugly business, and we cannot hope to win without men like him to fight for us.”

“Thank you,” Harry huffed. “I am not your enemy. I am trying to make sure as few people die as possible, but I can only do so much. I cannot save everyone from what is coming. I will do all I can to put an end to this, I only ask that you continue doing what you are.”

“We will,” Sirius declared.

The rest of the Order may be unwilling to do what was necessary, but Sirius had already lost too much.

He would follow Harry into battle, and he knew that Remus and Moody would be right there with him.

“Good,” Harry declared. “Now, can we get on with the rest of the meeting?”

“Indeed,” Albus replied with a smile. “Does anyone have anything to share?”

“I do,” Kingsley said gravely. “I overheard a conversation whilst I was close to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It seems that Greyback is on the move across the continent with his pack.”

Albus nodded severely and Sirius noticed Harry deflate in his chair.

“Then I expect I will receive a report from Remus soon informing me of the same,” the headmaster murmured. “I asked him to see if he could provide an accurate accounting of Greyback’s pack.”

“Around eight-hundred,” Harry spoke up. “There are around eight-hundred of them in all.”

The members of the Order paled at the number.

“And they are all heading for Britain?” Tonks asked.

“They are,” Harry confirmed. “It will take them some weeks to get here, but Greyback has finally been sent for.”

“Bloody hell,” Sirius muttered. “Eight-hundred? How can we fight that many?”

None had an answer for him, and the Animagus leaned back in his chair.

The combined forces of the Order and the aurors was already outnumbered considerably.

Eight hundred werewolves being added to Voldemort’s numbers was nothing short of a disaster.

They would run rampant across Britain and there was nothing that could stop them, not with the Death Eaters attacking as regularly as they were too.

Looking towards Harry, Sirius could see his godson pondering that very problem, and though the young man had never given him any reason to doubt their future success, he could not see a way past this latest impending obstacle.

(Break)

“Lestrange!” the Dark Lord called.

“My Lord?” the man asked as he peered his head around the door.

“Where is Lucius?”

“With the Minister, My Lord. Would you like me to send for him?”

Voldemort shook his head as he beckoned his follower forward and gestured to the newspaper on his desk.

“If Potter wishes to provoke a response, then we will give him one,” the Dark Lord declared.

Rodolphus grinned eagerly.

“What do you have in mind, My Lord?”

“Assemble the Death Eaters.”

“Which ones?”

“All of them, Rodolphus. It is time we sent wizarding Britain a message,” Voldemort mused aloud. “If Potter wishes to be the hero, who are we to deny him the opportunity? Remember, Rodolphus, he is not to be killed. Ensure that your wife is reminded of this.”

Rodolphus became noticeably uncomfortable at the mention of Bellatrix.

“I think perhaps it would be best if you told her, My Lord.”

A ghost of a smirk crested Voldemort’s lips.

Even Rodolphus knew not to cross Bella.

She listened only to one person, and it was not the man she had married at the behest of her father.

“Very well. You have your instructions. I will address them shortly.”

With a bow, Rodolphus took his leave of the room and the Dark Lord stroked Nagini’s head as he pondered what action he would take.

He would of course remain behind, but an indication of what power he wielded was a must and would hopefully quell any keenness any may feel to side with Potter.

(Break)

Gellert laughed uproariously as he finished reading the article. It had been many years that he had found something so utterly hilarious, though Cassiopeia did not seem to share his amusement.

The woman ‘s expression was one of concern, and perhaps it should be, but the former Dark Lord felt it little.

Harry had proven himself capable of handling any fallout or reprisals from his performance which Gellert could not deny had been quite admirable.

“It is not funny,” Cassiopeia huffed. “It’s my own fault really. I told him to make an impression.”

“My dear, he kicked in the front door and gave them all the finger,” Gellert chuckled. “It may seem rather extreme, but it was necessary. He needs to assert himself quickly, and to do that, all of them had to be called out.”

Cassiopeia reluctantly nodded her agreement.

“Arcturus and Charlus would be proud,” she sighed.

“I expect that would be,” Gellert replied reassuringly. “Tell me, how many of the Lords within that room has the guts or means to attempt reprisals against Harry?”

“The Death Eaters.”

“Who are already his enemies,” Gellert pointed out. “If anything, he may have convinced those that need it that they cannot remain idle in the face of what is happening around them. With someone like Harry to inspire them, perhaps they will find the fortitude to push back. Merlin knows they need to.”

“I hope you’re right,” Cassie murmured. “Not that it will change anything. Harry will fight this war alone until the bitter end if he has to.”

“He has you.”

Cassie snorted.

“He is determined to keep me safe.”

Gellert offered the woman an understanding smile.

“Can you blame him?” he asked. “He lost his parents to the man. You are the closest thing he has to a mother and I have no doubt that he will give his life to save yours if necessary. He does not wish to keep you away from the fighting because he believes you incapable, it’s that you are invaluably precious to him.”

“I would do the same for him!”

“I know,” Gellert soothed, “but it would be the last thing he ever wants. To him, he already knows that he may die, and deep down, he has likely accepted it. I do not put much stock in prophecies, only because I don’t understand the magic. We cannot be so dismissive of it. If the prophecy is true, there is every possibility that Harry will die. I have every faith in him that he can be successful, but I had that same faith in myself fifty years ago.”

“Do you think he will win?”

Gellert smiled as he nodded.

“Harry is not me,” he pointed. “He has much more to lose if he fails, and for him, that is not an option. Things are going to become deeply unpleasant, but I would wager anything of any worth I have left that it will be Harry that emerges victorious.”

Cassiopeia smiled gratefully and her postured relaxed.

Whilst she revelled in her relief, Gellert shifted his attention back to the newspaper once more, chuckling to himself at how Harry had comported himself.

(Break)

Knockturn Alley was a very different place in the later hours than it was during the day. The vendor’s various stalls were always removed before the sun set, and those that could be considered regular shoppers bid a hasty retreat with the wares.

In only a matter of moments, the demographic shifted, and those that frequented the bars and other unseemly establishments would arrive bringing a less savoury mood with them.

Harry had grown accustomed to watching the changes, and as fascinating as it was to witness, he was not here to enjoy the nightlife.

No, his focus was on one of the more specific businesses that began operating after hours.

The building itself was unassuming, and one would think that it was a small block of apartments, but Harry knew better, thanks to the copious notes that Rita had provided him on the persons of interest in wizarding Britain.

Within the seemingly innocuous dwelling was one of the most exclusive places of business, one that was attended to regularly by a certain Lord Nott.

Once a week, the man would visit to indulge in what Harry would consider to be his favourite carnal pursuits and would do so on the same evening.

Harry cared not for what pleasures any sought in life, that was none of his concern, but Nott was one of the more prolific Death Eaters in Voldemort’s inner circle, and to remove him from the equation would be most beneficial.

Now, he just needed the man to stick to his own schedule and make an appearance.

The conundrum he did face, however, was whether to attempt to reach him before he try entering the building after which was decidedly risky, or wait until Nott’s business was concluded.

Harry was more drawn to the first option.

It could draw attention to him, but he was not familiar with the layout of the inside, nor what he may find within.

For all he knew, there could be dozens of enemies, and potentially trapping himself in an enclosed space would be foolish.

“Come on, where are you?” he murmured, checking his watch and seeing that it was close to 11pm.

It was a Friday night, with many revellers, but he was certain he had not missed Lord Nott’s arrival.

As if in response to his question, Harry’s head snapped towards his left as a loud explosion sounded from the adjoining Diagon Alley, followed by screams.

“What the fu…?”

His question was cut off by another loud bang followed by more shrieking.

Forgetting about his task, he sprinted towards the commotion and came to a halt as he entered the alley.

A swarm of people were fleeing in his direction, but through the masses, he could see groups upon groups of Death Eaters.

They were not attacking the crowd, but the shops seemed to be fair game.

“Bastards,” Harry muttered as he drew his wand, sending a message to Dumbledore.

It seemed as though Voldemort was no longer satisfied with attacking the muggle cities of Great Britain.

Fighting his way through the crowd of civilians, he conjured a large burst of water from the tip of his wand, soaking the ground in front of the apothecary that some of the Death Eaters were heading towards.

As they broke out into a run, he froze it, and with another spell, he transfigured the shop front so that it was now adorned with several spikes.

Fresh screams filled the air as the Death Eaters were flung into them from their own momentum.

“IT’S POTTER!” a loud voice shouted.

Harry did not expect to go unnoticed in the melee but he had hoped the crowd would conceal him a little longer.

Nonetheless, he now found himself being targeted and he quickly shifted to a defensive stance. Ducking as a familiar green curse was sent his way.

“HE IS NOT TO BE KILLED!” one of the Death Eaters roared furiously.

Harry grinned in response.

He may be outnumbered, but he certainly had no qualms with killing his foes.

Still, it wasn’t as though he could hope to sustain his defences indefinitely.

Where were the aurors, and how long would it take for Dumbledore to assemble the Order?

With a shake of his head, Harry pushed those thoughts out of his mind.

It could be several minutes before help arrived, and he needed to focus on what was happening around him.

(Break)

The members of the Order were frantically trying to organise themselves into something that resembled a competent force to combat the Death Eaters whilst they waited for the arrival of Albus.

Sirius knew nothing of what they would be facing, only that Voldemort had chosen to attack Diagon Alley of all places.

He suspected that Harry’s visit to the Wizengamot and his rather blunt words had something to do with the sudden decision.

“What is going on, Albus?” Moody demanded as the headmaster entered with his wand already in hand.

“I received a message from Harry informing me of the attack,” Albus explained quickly. “Unless the aurors have arrived, he is alone and facing a rather large group of Death Eaters. There is no time to waste.”

Sirius drew his own wand, doing his utmost to not think of what Harry is enduring.

“We will apparate to The Leaky Cauldron and make our way into the alley from there.”

Sirius turned on the spot, only to remain where he was.

“They must have set up anti-apparation wards,” Kingsley groaned. “How will we get there?”

Sirius felt a sense of panic set in.

If they could not get to the alley quickly…

He shook his head of the thought.

“The alley by the Ministry!” Moody urged. “It is not too far from there.”

Without hesitation, Sirius disappeared with the rest of the Order, praying that Harry could hold out for just another few moments.

(Break)

He did not know how much time had passed since he had sent his message, but Harry knew that the only thing keeping him alive was that the Death Eaters were not trying to kill him, nor could they attack him in great numbers due to the narrow nature of the alley.

Still, he’d had no time to mount any offense and had spent the inordinate passing moments doing all he could to defend himself.

He had cursed when he’d realised his ability to apparate had been hampered, but he had continued digging his heels in, fending off attack after attack.

“Come on, Dumbledore,” he muttered as he batted away another curse that had been sent towards him.

It hit him that being unable to apparate would mean the Order would have to find another way here, something that could take several more minutes.

Harry released a deep breath.

Despite how well he was faring, he could not do this indefinitely.

He frowned as the ground beneath his feet began to tremble, and he braced himself to defend himself once more only for his eyes to widen as a wall of dirt and rock formed in front of him and across the breadth of the alley, shielding him from the Death Eaters.

Turning, he expected to see Dumbledore approaching with the Order in tow, but the sight that greeted him was another familiar face.

“Need a hand?” Jonas questioned with a grin.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Harry choked.

“Helping,” the son of a hag answered simply.

Harry could only shake his head as the others emerged from the surrounding shadows.

“Is now really the time to be questioning us?” Lucinda huffed.

Harry shook himself from his shock as a series of explosions sounded from behind the barrier Jonas had created.

“It won’t hold for long,” Harry murmured. “Keep it up as long as you can. I’ve got something for them,” he added with a grin as he aimed his wand towards the sky.

In only a matter of seconds, it began to pour with rain and heavy wind began to blow, bringing the unmistakeable sounds of thunder with it.

“They’re getting through!” Jonas warned.

Harry doubled down on his efforts and the thunder grew louder, shaking the buildings around them.

“Harry?” Eleanor questioned as she struck down a Death Eater that had managed to punch a hole through their defences with a gouging curse.

Giving a final burst of power, the storm Harry had created became raging, and bolts of lightning began tearing into the ground of Diagon Alley, leaving smoking scorch marks in its wake.

“Shit!” Jonas cursed as it ripped through the barrier, and even Harry was taken aback by what he had managed to bring forth.

“I think we should move,” Eleanor urged worriedly.

Harry nodded, and the group began retreating, followed by the Death Eaters brave enough to fight their way through the storm, though several fell victim to the powerful wind and crackles of lightning.

It was a malicious screech that pulled Harry’s attention away from their retreat, and as he looked towards the sky, he immediately recognised the swooping creature that was revelling in his storm.

“Is that…?” Lucinda murmured.

Harry could only nod as the thunderbird dove towards the Death Eaters, shrieking its displeasure and sending them scurrying with its own bolts of lightning.

“Come on, we have to keep moving,” Harry urged, leading the group towards The Leaky Cauldron.

It was the quickest way out of the alley, though now the Death Eaters were fleeing the storm, there didn’t seem to be a reason to rush.

It took only a moment or so for them to reach their destination, each of them soaked through and breathing heavily from their efforts.

Harry looked at each of them in turn, the gratitude and warmth he felt for what they had done for him overwhelming.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated.

Cain offered him a smile.

“We decided that being at Durmstrang whilst you’re here was wrong, so we came to find you,” he explained. “It’s a good thing we did.”

Lucinda nodded, her nostrils flaring at him.

“At what point did you think it was a good idea to get into a fight like that?” she asked.

On the surface, she was calm, but Harry knew that she was anything but.

“It just happened,” he defended.

Lucinda hummed.

“It did!” Harry continued. “I thought help would be here sooner, but…”

He was cut off as the back door of the The Leaky Cauldron was slammed open and Dumbledore emerged from within, followed by the rest of the Order.

Lucinda and the others pointed their wands towards them, a gesture that was immediately returned.

“Where are the Death Eaters?” Sirius asked.

“Running,” Harry snorted. “You can lower your wands. You bloody missed it.”

He knew they couldn’t be blamed for not reaching him in a timelier manner, but had it not been for the arrival of his friends, Harry could not fathom what would have happened.

“Friends of yours, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded, his mouth closing as he felt a sharp pair of talons digging into his shoulder.

“Ouch!” he groaned, looking up at the thunderbird that had joined them, though he could not hide his awe at the majesty of the creature.

Its feathers were golden, but both eyes were electric blue and teeming with power.

“Harry, what is that?” Sirius asked worriedly.

The thunderbird screeched at the man and Harry chuckled.

“This little lady arrived when we needed her,” he answered amusedly. “She has a knack for coming when I need her most,” he added, his thoughts wondering briefly to his experience in the Chamber of Secrets.

“Well, as remarkable as she is, I believe it would be best if you were to return home with your friends before the aurors arrive,” Dumbledore urged, his gaze sweeping over the other teens. “We will join you shortly.”

Harry took the hint.

The aurors would not be pleased to see a vampire, a werewolf, or a half-hag here when they finally decided to do their jobs.

With a nod, Harry gestured for the others to follow him into the pub where they could make use of the floo system.

“I told you lot you weren’t welcome here,” a voice growled as they entered.

Harry scowled at the barman who was glaring at the rest of the group.

“Is that so?” he questioned dangerously as he stepped forward. “While you were hiding in here shitting yourselves, this lot were out there defending your homes, and you say they are not welcome?”

“L-Lord Black,” the man stuttered. “I d-didn’t know they were friends of yours.”

“Now you do,” Harry replied quietly. “I think perhaps you need to open your mind a little, don’t you? I did not see a single person cowering in here now even attempt to fight back against them. No, you ran for your lives, and I can’t say I blame you, but if this is how you treat those that are trying to make a difference, why the bloody hell should we bother?”

The barman simply gaped at Harry whilst the other patrons looked anywhere but at him.

“Do you have any objection to us using your floo?”

The barman shook his head and Harry shot him a look of disgust before leading the others to the fireplace and casting a privacy charm around them.

“I need to go first so I can let you in from the other side,” he explained. “The address is Grimmauld Place.”

With that, Harry threw a handful of powder into the fire and stepped into the emerald flames, the thunderbird perched on his shoulder vanishing in a burst of lightning much to his dismay.

Would she come back?

Eleanor was the first to arrive at Grimmauld Place, pulling him from his thoughts, followed shortly by Cain, then Jonas, and finally Lucinda.

“Where is Ana?” Harry asked curiously.

“She went home to speak with her leader,” Jonas explained. “As an elf, she is not supposed to involve herself in wizard affairs, but she’s going to try to join us.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

This wasn’t her fight.

It wasn’t any of his friends’ fight, yet here they were.

“I don’t know what to say,” he murmured.

“Don’t say anything,” Cain urged. “You would do the same for any of us. We can’t let you do this alone.”

Harry offered the werewolf a grateful smile as he clapped him on the shoulder.

“Bloody hell, you all must be freezing,” he sighed, drying them off with a wave of his wand. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Jonas answered.

“Of course you can,” Lucinda muttered, rolling her eyes at the boy.

Harry chuckled as he gestured for the group to follow him through to the kitchen.

“Kreacher,” he called.

The elf answered the summons immediately, bowing in greeting.

“How can Kreacher serve Lord Black?”

“Could you prepare some food for our guests?”

Kreacher looked at each of them in turn and nodded, his ears flapping comically.

“Kreacher can, but Kreacher apologises, Lord Black. We do not have any human blood for this one.”

“It’s fine,” Harry replied dismissively before Lucinda could answer. “I have some stored away from when I bought it for your clan,” he explained to the vampire.

“Then Kreacher will prepare everything else,” the elf declared, vanishing with a gentle pop.

“Take a seat,” Harry urged, pointing to the large table.

It was odd to see them within his kitchen, but he was not displeased by the sight.

He had missed his friends dearly, and to have them here meant more to him than he could put into words.

“You’ll need rooms!” he suddenly realised. “Elgar!”

“Lord Black,” the other house-elf greeted him gruffly.

“Would you be kind enough to prepare rooms for our guests, please?”

“It will be Elgar’s pleasure, Lord Black,” the elf answered. “Shall I place them on the second floor with you?”

“For the time being,” Harry returned thoughtfully.

With a respectful nod, Elgar disappeared to carry out his task.

“Won’t it cause problems having us here?” Jonas asked.

“This is my house,” Harry answered simply. “Sirius will enjoy the extra company, as will Remus. What anyone else thinks doesn’t matter.”

Jonas snorted amusedly.

“Who was that lot who arrived late?”

“The Order,” Harry sighed. “They mean well, but they’ve not really proven to be useful. It mostly consists of paper pushers, and old sods who are past their best. Moody is decent enough, and the other aurors aren’t bad. The rest annoy me.”

“Everyone annoys you,” Eleanor pointed out.

“True,” Harry acknowledged as he removed his trunk from within his robes and enlarged it.

Searching through it, he found where he had kept the small barrel of blood and placed it on the table in front of Lucinda who had taken the seat next to him.

“Help yourself, I will get some more for you tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes I do,” Harry returned. “Now drink up, I can see how hungry you are.”

Lucinda scowled at him before filling a goblet and taking a sip.

Her eyes all but glowed in bliss as the liquid spread across her tongue.

“Kreacher won’t be long,” Harry assured the others, frowning as he heard a commotion at the front door.

The first members of the Order filed into the kitchen, only to pause at the sight of the occupants, eying them warily.

“It is rude to stare,” Harry said sharply.

“Indeed it is,” Dumbledore agreed tiredly as he entered the room, followed cautiously by the rest. “How are you, Harry?”

“I could be better,” Harry murmured in response, shaking his head.

The headmaster offered him an apologetic smile.

“Well, I’m sure you will be pleased to hear that the Death Eaters fled, and that thus far, no bodes of innocent people have been found,” he explained. “There is, however, rather significant damage to Diagon Alley. It will take some time to repair.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“It seems that the Death Eaters were told to target the buildings only to instil fear, but your presence interfered with that. Ah, perhaps it would be prudent to introduce ourselves,” Dumbledore suggested, noticing the rather tense atmosphere within the room. “I am Albus Dumbledore. I am the Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Before you are the members of the Order of the Phoenix, a group dedicated to fighting against the Dark Lord.”

Harry did not appreciate how some members of the Order were looking at his friends, and he would not tolerate it.

“Jonas Schneider,” Jonas introduced himself. “I’m this ugly because my mother is a hag,” he added with a grin.

Harry shook his head amusedly.

“Eleanor Summerbee. My grandmother disgraced our family by robbing branches of Gringotts.”

Even Dumbledore’s beard twitched at that.

“Cain Jankowski. I’m a werewolf.”

It wasn’t so strange to the Order members to have a werewolf amongst them, but there were those that were looking at Cain with mistrust.

“Lucinda Tarasova,” the vampire finished with a grin, her bared, bloody fangs leaving no question as to what she was.

“It is a pleasure to meet you all,” Dumbledore greeted them with a bow. “You are schoolmates of Harry’s?”

“Until this morning,” Cain answered. “We decided that Harry needs us more.”

Dumbledore nodded his understanding.

“It is admirable to stand by your friends through the most difficult of times.”

“Will they be joining the Order?” Elphias Doge asked uneasily.

“No,” Harry answered. “They will not, but they will be staying with me here.”

“At headquarters?” Molly Weasley broke in.

“Within my home,” Harry corrected. “I grant you use of it. The only person with authority here is me. If you do not like it, you can conduct your meetings elsewhere. And if there is any that wishes to take issue with my friends, you can piss off and not come back.”

“There will be no issue, Harry,” Dumbledore assured him. “We are very grateful for their intervention this evening and I am sure there will be many opportunities for us to get to know one another. For now, I think it is perhaps best that we part ways for this evening.”

Harry nodded his agreement.

If the members of the Order continued as they were, he could not promise he would not lose his temper with them.

Much to his relief, they took their leave of Grimmauld Place leaving only Sirius behind who was oddly quiet.

“Sit down, Sirius,” Harry huffed. “No one is going to bite you.”

The man did so and eyed the various plates of food that appeared on the table.

“Is that raw liver?” he asked Jonas.

“I don’t much like it,” Jonas sighed, “but I have to eat it.”

Sirius hummed thoughtfully as he chose some food for himself.

“Sorry, I’ve never met a half-hag before.”

Jonas waved him off.

“It’s the vampire you should be more concerned with,” he chuckled. “You might want to lock your door at night.”

Sirius’s gaze shifted towards Lucinda who offered him a grin.

“Don’t worry. I’ve managed to fight the urge to bite Harry for the past six years. You’ll be fine.”

Sirius snorted.

“You must have the patience of a bloody saint,” he murmured. “If I was a vampire, I would have bitten him already.”

“Oh, there’s always time for that,” Lucinda declared. “Just because I’ve fought the urge so far, it doesn’t mean my patience will last forever.”

“Not this again,” Cain muttered irritably. “Didn’t the two of you get all that out of your system yet?”

“Get what out of their system?” Sirius pressed.

“You don’t want to know,” Jonas sighed.

Harry’s gaze shifted towards Lucinda who rolled her eyes at him.

“I didn’t tell them anything,” she assured him.

“She didn’t have to,” Cain groaned. “Where’s the elf? I don’t want to sleep anywhere near where you two might be.”

The realisation dawned on Sirius and he scoffed as he looked at Harry and Lucinda.

“Bloody hell,” he snorted. “I’m glad I’m on the fourth floor. Oh, it’s going to be fun watching you explain this to Cassie,” he added gleefully.

Harry shook his head at his godfather.

“Shut up, Sirius,” he grumbled.