AN: I am, again, very sorry for all many previous stories being deleted. I would just have re-uploaded them if my computer didn't break and destroy all my files… It's taken awhile to get all this mess fixed up and I hope you can understand my position. Anyway, I hope this new story will make up for the ones lost.
Harry Potter and the Circle of Silence
Chapter One: Old Friends
August 18th, Potter Manor, Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix
In the darkest, lowest room of Potter Manor a meeting was being held. The moderately sized room was lit only by a single candle, which effectively shrouded the faces of those who did not wish to be seen. By the inadequate candle light, all that could be seen was a large, round table with thirteen chairs spaced evenly. At the northern most part of the table was a chair more impressive than the others, showing off both greater size, and more intricate detail. In this chair sat a twenty five year old man, and happened to be the only member of the thirteen at the table that everyone recognized and knew; the other members did not know each other by face or person; only by voice and given name, but the man was the only one who knew who everyone was.
The man's face, like everyone else's, was shrouded by shadow, but, unlike everyone else, his eyes could be seen plain as day. It was by their bright emerald green color that the other recognized their leader; the one that organized all of this and kept their secret from enemy ears. It was this emerald eyed man that led them in their plans for the future, their plans for battles, and their plans for peace. It was here that the man spoke.
"The Fire's meeting has ended, but mine is only to begin," he whispered to himself. "Aves, I want your report on Ruby," said the man calmly to the room at large.
One of the men, it was impossible to tell where he sat because of a spell making his voice sound everywhere, spoke up next. "Ruby is becoming more and more paranoid, Silver. Although he is starting to trust me more, it will take time until I'm into the Vultures. As of now, I only know of a planned attack on the outskirts of London sometime in the near future. Whatever Ruby is planning, he only tells to Snake Blade."
"Interesting," said Silver. "Feli, what of Sly?"
A female voice came up next, strong but soft. "Sly," she snorted, "is a fool. He relies too much on me. Alongside my regulars he told me to keep a watch on the Hall. I don't know why, but he said that something was of great value in there, and couldn't be passed up."
Silver gave a start of surprise. "Huh… I thought I sensed him hiding something… Butterfly, I want you to tell Blood to not let his guard down. Don't let Sly in."
"I will tell him Silver," said another female, but younger sounding this time. Silver nodded.
"Now, with Sly and Ruby out of the way… Bite, how is the training coming?"
A man sighed in annoyance, "Those trainees are really too much of a bother to deal with, Silver. I don't know what could have possessed you to put me in charge of the brats, but the training is going along fine… or it would be if those damn children would listen instead of groan…" he muttered.
Silver laughed, "Always good with children, aren't you Bite?" All that answered was a low grumble. "Nevertheless," said Silver, "you must get them going. I'll need them in the coming battles. Besides," he added with a slightly lighter tone, "you were always the best and I would have picked you first to teach students."
Miraculously, Bite did not retort, merely remaining silent. "The rest of you," Silver announced to the table at large, "have your duties. You know what you must do. You are all dismissed."
Silver watched as every member vanished into the darkness, only to return for their next meeting. Predictably, Butterfly remained and approached him.
"Silver… I must ask… When will you let Harry into the Circle?"
Silver sighed and put his face into his hands. "I don't know, Butterfly… I just don't know…" He sounded pained, as if talking about Harry was placing a weight upon his heart. "Harry would pass all our tests, I'm sure… but I… I'm not ready to let him in. Not yet."
It was one of the only times that Butterfly, or any other member of the table if they were here, would see Silver distressed. They all knew who Silver was, even if they were shocked by it at first, and so they all wondered why the Boy-Who-Lived was not among them. It was all very confusing.
"Please, Silver…" said Butterfly pleadingly, "Harry has to be here. You need him to be here. I can see you twitch every time his name's brought up! Please Silver, if not for me, do it for you and him."
And with that, Butterfly left the shadows of the room, leaving behind Silver who sighed and remained there for many hours before disappearing into the darkness as well.
August 21st, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmaster's Office
As Headmaster, and Leader of the Order of the Phoenix, Albus Dumbledore was a busy man. Even temporarily forsaking his various positions in the Ministry in light of the current war, Dumbledore was even more overworked than normal, yet still managed to put on a smile and calming expression. Inside the man's own mind however, there was turmoil.
He always wondered about when peace would finally be achieved, when Harry would finally end the war. Speaking of Harry…
"Master Dumbledore," said a muscled, raven-black haired man with emerald eyes suddenly as he walked through the office door, "the Ministry has issued Code Eleven. It seems as if Old allies have decided to return."
Dumbledore slowly nodded; a guarded look in his eyes. "Harry, go to the Ministry and talk to the Representative of the Olden Clans. And remember the proper…"
"Yes, yes," Harry interrupted, "I know." He brushed the hair out of his eyes, making the oh-so-famous lightning bolt scar visible again. "I'll bring the Sarcrue with me, if he will."
He then forced a face of immense concentration and faded out of the office. Dumbledore sighed, "Always one to dive headfirst into anything, aren't you my apprentice?"
A silent room answered him. There were no murmurs from the portraits of past Headmasters and Mistress, nor a calming note from Fawkes. Sadly, Voldemort himself destroyed Fawkes with repeated killing curses one night almost a year ago, and no one had seen Dumbledore look quite the same afterward. The death of his dear companion had deeply affected him. So much that Voldemort found a new weapon against the aged Headmaster; not that that's what he was looking for when he killed the phoenix anyway.
Dumbledore shook his head sadly and got up to do his daily pacing around his office. His head was still full of so many questions and so little answers.
August 21st, Ministry of Magic, Atrium
Harry appeared in the middle of the Atrium, wearing his dark blue training robes and cloak, only to be met at the wand points of about ten Aurors. They soon lowered their weapons and nodded at him, once recognizing his robes and realizing who he was. Harry Potter, much to the man's annoyance, had become even more of the hero during the last few years of the war. His feats in battle were legendary among Aurors, old and new, and he was as respected and admired as both Albus Dumbledore and Amos Diggory, the Minister of Magic himself. Harry soon found himself approached immediately by one of the Minister's secretaries.
Harry groaned. Of course it had to be a female secretary who found him first. Harry quickly, and discreetly, studied her. She had long, silky dirty blonde hair, tan skin, really good looking body… Yeah, it gonna be one of those days… She smiled at him, "Hello Mr. Potter, the Minister and his guest have been waiting for you."
"Thank you… er… Isabel. Would you mind leading me? It's been awhile…"
"Oh, no problem at all Mr. Potter!" she said happily, glancing, noticeably, at his muscled body, all the while smirking. "Follow me."
As Isabel lead Harry up the stairs, rather than the elevator. Harry wondered whether she was swinging her hips on purpose or not. He did notice, though, that for someone leading the way, Isabel tended to brush up against him quite a lot. He sighed inwardly.
Here I am, on important business, and some girl, a fairly attractive one at that a sly part of Harry's mind commented, is trying to get herself close to me. I guess they don't all realize how much of a danger being around me really is…
"Here it is, Mr. Potter," Isabel said, stopping by a double door lined by gold. "Oh, and by the way," she said before walking off, "here's my address. Stop by sometime…"
She forced a small note into his hand and went back down the stairs, and turned to wink at him suggestively. Harry shook his head, but pocketed the note anyway. He was walking into the Minister of Magic's office, barely taking in the large room and expensive furnishings, when Minister Diggory greeted him.
"Ah, Harry! I wondered if you'd get here. This is Odgren Ickor, Harry," Diggory said, indicating a tall, grim looking man standing by the Minister's mahogany desk. The man nodded slightly and waited for Harry to return the gesture.
Harry walked up to the grim man and put his left hand on the man's left shoulder, making sure to keep eye contact. The Ickor looking pleasantly surprised for a second before giving a small smile and putting his right hand on Harry's right shoulder. Harry smiled and stepped back.
"It… has been… awhile since someone greeted me the proper way, outside my own people," said Ickor, watching Harry closely, "Have you met the Olden before?"
"Yes, in fact, I have. I was three years ago I believe, that I was working along side one of the Yer in the Department of Mysteries. One of the few times I went there was during the "R" Project, and since then Issachu Oblin has been a good friend of mine."
"Ah, I see! Well, you must be Ormu!" said Ickor, suddenly much warmer in the conversation than he was before. "Issachu speaks most highly of you."
"You know him?" Harry asked, astonished. The Olden are not a race that usually deals in friendship or family. Usually the closest you would get to such in the Olden Clans was "ally". Issachu was one of the few who saw things differently.
"I am his Ishu… pardon me; his teacher."
"I see… Well, enough pleasantries… Amos," said Harry to the Minister who had been watching the exchange in fascination, "what do you need?"
"Oh, right… Well, Harry, Ickor, now that we've all met each other, let's get down to business," said Diggory, moving toward his desk. "The Dark Lord has gathered more support in France, as well as Russia and we might need to start sending out requests for help to our old allies of the last War. Ickor, here, has come to negotiate his side's support. We've already settled on an agreement. Now, Harry, where do suggest we go?"
Harry thought for a second.
Where has Dumbledore sent me that we could get support… Hmm… yes, they might…
"How about the vampire tribes in the western mountains of Russia? When I went there they seemed very interested in the war here, and seemed to lean a bit towards our side. Besides, they seem almost as powerful as those of Romania."
"It's possible, I guess…," said the Minister thoughtfully.
"Also I'm sure the Japanese would help out, as would the Americans and Spanish. And of course all the old alliances could be brought back and such."
"Yes, yes… that it would… Well then Harry, thank you for your suggestions. Oh, Ickor… would you like transport back to you clan?"
"No," he said, "I sense Ormu's master wants a meeting with me."
Harry turned to look at the Olden, surprised that he knew that. Ickor only nodded so Harry said he could come with him.
"Thank you, Minister of Magic, for your time," said Ickor. Diggory said it was a pleasure and Harry laid his hand on Ickor's shoulder, then they vanished.
They appeared a moment later back in the Headmaster's Office to see a pacing Albus Dumbledore, who looked up expectantly. He smiled at Harry and turned to Ickor, doing the same gesture Harry did earlier. Harry bowed to Dumbledore and quietly left the room.
Once beyond the large griffin statue, Harry looked around at the empty stone corridors. Not seeing anyone to talk to, or knowing of anywhere to go or do, Harry shrugged and wandered off toward the direction of his private rooms on the fifth floor. Down two staircases, through a hidden passage behind a large tapestry, and down a long corridor devoid of windows or scenery, and Harry reached his door.
"The One Ring," he said, and the door swung open. Harry stepped into the rooms he had been using for the last five years and looked around, checking for anything moved or misplaced. It was a large room, the walls colored in a mixture of blues and silvers, the three high bookcases off to one side, along with a table and chairs, on the other side of the room was a queen sized bed, blue sheets and blankets, and in the middle, which was separated from the bedroom by a thick stone wall, was the living room.
Dumbledore had offered Harry a much larger, grander living space when he first became his apprentice, all those years ago, but Harry declined. He did not need a house sized place to sleep and study, and neither did he want one. Plain and simple, that's how he liked it.
A small pop alerted Harry to the presence of Dobby, his house-elf. Dobby, after much begging and pleading on the elf's part, became Harry's servant, or friend in Harry's opinion, servant in the elf's, about two years ago. Harry told Dobby that he wasn't to be Harry's slave, or become his personal house-elf, and that Dobby should be free and work still at Hogwarts unless Harry needed him. Dobby still praises Harry's 'goodness'.
"Dobby has Harry Potter's dinner ready," said the elf, bowing his head low to the ground, "Is Harry Potter ready to eat yet?"
"Sure Dobby, can you bring it up here? I'm exhausted."
Harry had long given up trying to get Dobby to call him "Harry" only. It took at least a month for Dobby to get used to not calling Harry "master" which Harry outright would not allow, then another three weeks to stop calling Harry "sir". So the elf settled on "Harry Potter" and try as he might, Harry could not get Dobby to call him by his first name only.
"Dobby will gets it from the kitchen, Harry Potter," the small elf said before poppingaway. Harry sat down in his favorite armchair next to the fire and played around with the flames a bit, making them turn from orange, to blue, then violet, and so on until Dobby returned hovering a large tray of food and a potion vial in his hand.
"Professor Dumbledore says that Harry Potter can take his potion tonight. Dobby has brought Harry Potter's potion and dinner!"
"Thanks Dobby," said Harry tiredly, "You can go."
Dobby bowed again and popped back to the kitchens, presumably. Harry looked at the tray of food and groaned. Trust it to Dobby to get enough to feed five people for only one man.
Eating what he could, and placing a preserving charm on the rest, Harry picked the potion vial off the table. It was full of moving purple liquid and Harry recognized it instantly, given the many times he had taken it. The Improved Dreamless Sleep Potion. It was a concoction made specifically for him by Snape, which gave him the rest of a dreamless night, but the dreams he was supposed to have, more specifically the visions he sees from Voldemort's mind, where siphoned directly into the nearest Pensieve. The nearest happened to be sitting on a table next to Harry's bed. He used it often, but made sure never to leave any memories in there. To risky.
Harry dragged himself over to his large blue bed, potion vial in hand. He sat down and gazed at the potion.
"Ah, screw it. I happen to like my dreams…" and he vanished the vial, shrugged off his robe, and underclothes, got under the covers, put his Occulmency barriers up in "Sleep Mode", and went to sleep after about fifteen minutes of silent wakefulness.
AN: How was it? Good? Bad? Let me know in a review and I'll get the next chapter up soon.