I've been wanting to write about the Order of the Phoenix, the first and during Harry's time for a while so here it is... This will mix two storylines, one about the First Order and the other during Harry's fifth year (because I've always wanted to know more about what happened at Grimmauld Place during the school year).

I hope you like it, please tell me what you think !

Disclaimer : I obviously own nothing you recognize.

The summer of 1994 was starting out to be a very hot one. The sun shone brightly above Diagon Alley, bathing the street in golden light and unbearable heat.

Sibel Shacklebolt was seated at one of the coloured tables at the front of Florean Fortescue's shop, happily basking in the sunlight after a long morning. She could see her reflection in the windows of the shop, her lime green St Mungo's robes clashing violently against her dark skin. Her frizzy black hair was still tied up, she had come straight after work to relax a bit after a long shift. She studied her angular face in the glass windows, running a hand over the slightly hooked bridge of her nose. Whe did she start looking so… adult? Long gone were the days when she was Head Girl of Slytherin, pretending to be older and wiser than she actually was. Nowadays she would've given anything to back to the blessed times, before the war broke out.

'Here's your order !' The cheery voice made her turn her head and stare straight into Florean's grinning face. He caught sight of the Daily Prophet on her table, featuring a photo of Dumbledore in his office at Hogwarts, announcing his removal from the Wizenmagot. 'You still read that?'

'Old habits Florian. What d'you make of it?' Sibel answered distractedly. Maybe he did finally go off his rocker she thought, after all the man was about as old as England.

'I've spoken with the Potter kid before, and he's not as daft as they make him sound… So I guess Dumbledore isn't either.' His face had gone as serious as she'd ever seen it.

Sibel smiled slightly and bowed her head, thanking him for the ice cream. Dumbledore was an endless source of amazement and just like every student, she had once thought him unbreakable, a bottomless pit of wisdom and clairvoyance. But recently, the Prophet had started claiming that Dumbledore had been walking the thin line between genius and madman for so long, he had finally tipped over. Of course she'd heard his declarations about the Dark Lord being back, and as much as she didn't want to believe it, she also knew Dumbledore had a nasty tendency of being right. Especially when you didn't want him to be.

She took the newspaper, gave it a glance and discarded it with a shrug. Her time would be better used gazing at the crowd circulating through Diagon Alley. The constant chatter emanating from all around, the endless ballet of people passing each other. Everyone seemed happy, cheerful, oblivious to the events of that dreadful TriWizard Tournament. How many of them would be dead within the year, if he had indeed risen from the dead ?

A sad smile stretched her lips as she spotted an old friend zooming through the dense crowd. She took one last look at the surrounding cheerfulness. Ignorance was indeed bliss…

'Lupin' Sibel invited him to sit at her table as he arrived. He took the chair in front of her and crossed him legs.

'You don't seem surprised.' He noted. Sibel took some time before answering, taking in the changes in his kind face, the lines on his forehead and the greying hair. He looked so much older than when she last saw him, but he had managed to retain the kindness in his eyes despite everything the Wizarding world had thrown at him.

'I read the news Remus, and I happen to be rather smart.' Remus chuckled as she spoke, 'It was only a matter of time, wasn't it?'

'Will you come back?' He asked, lowering his voice and leaning over the table.

Sibel took some time to consider the proposition. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. Would she? She wasn't sure she had any fight left in her, they had lost so much already. But if not them, again, who ?

'Honestly, I don't know Remus. It's been a long time.' She looked him straight in the eye as she spoke.

'Not long enough' He replied knowingly. That was the thing about Remus, he understood everything.

He quickly took his leave from her with one last smile and a sad wave. She watched him walk away and disappear between the colourful robes of people rushing by before getting started on her now melted ice cream.

When Sibel finally apparated home in her terrace house on Whitehead's Grove, Chelsea; the sun had started to declina. Somehow, she didn't feel quite right, as if some unreadable thought kept buzzing at the back of her mind. Maybe it was just worry for Remus' condition, he looked sick and feeble despite the full moon being at least two weeks away. She quickly changed out of her St Mungo uniform and into a pair of pants she'd heard muggles call jeans and a sweater.

She didn't feel like thinking about Remus. She knew already that that conversation with herself would unwind a whirlwind of guilt and sadness, memories buried so deep she could barely remember them. Another life, almost.

A loud bang echoed in the house from the entrance corridor and she heard the deep, cavernous voice of her younger brother.

'Sibel, you here?' She felt instantly better, his tone always felt soothing on her troubled soul.

'In the Kitchen, King' She answered, setting the kettle on the stove.

He joined her and sat himself on a bar stool as she put an empty cup in front of him and waited for the water to heat up. He looked a bit tired, but then Aurors always did. The ones she had once known anyways.

'I've been asked to join the Order of the Phoenix again.' She said after a slight hesitation. But even though the Order was technically illegal, she knew Kinglsey wouldn't mind as he knew about her former role in it. Her declaration was met with silence, during which she noted her brother didn't seem surprised in the slightest.

'Mad-Eye approached me two weeks ago' he finally said, looking her in the eyes.

'And you didn't tell me?' She wasn't even really bothered, but that felt like what she was supposed to say. She filled his cup with hot water, dropped a teabag in and leaned against the sink, eyeing him severely.

'I didn't think you'd approve, I thought it would be better from Remus' her brother confessed calmly.

'So that's why you're here, I was wondering…' She said 'I don't disapprove, King, you're a big boy now, you can do as you please'

'What did you tell Remus?' Kingsley asked, before taking a sip of his tea. Sibel smirked and answered him.

'Don't you already know?' She studied his face for a few seconds and crossed her arms. 'You think I should come back, don't you?' Of course he did.

'I think you should make the choice you'll be able to live with.' Kingsley told her quietly. Sibel took a deep breath.

'I will think about it. Now go back to work.' Her brother downed the rest of his tea and nodded. 'And I will ward this house against apparating!' She added just before he disappeared.

She went back to the sitting room and threw herself on the cream-coloured couch. Could she go back to the Order? It was so long ago, it was war and yet it felt she was happier than she had ever been back then. She, like many others, had lost so much.

On the coffee table in front of her, Fabian Prewett caught her eye from his photograph. She could see only her own arm that Fabian was tugging on to get her into the frame. His angular face was cheerful, his lips parted in a wide grin and his honey-coloured hair moving around with the wind. She remembered that moment so well; it was the summer before their sixth year at Hogwarts, the picture had been taken by his twin brother Gideon. One of those rare moments when nothing really mattered but themselves, when they forgot about the unrest shaking the country and the foretelling signs of a terrible war brewing beneath the surface.

They were both gone now and the echoes of their laughter had faded away in her memory. They had died as heroes, that's what people had kept telling her all these years. But that wasn't the Fabian she knew, the brazen fighter who defeated four Death Eaters before going away in a flash of light. She remembered the sarcastic Ravenclaw Head boy and his never-ending reserve of patience and humour, the young man who wanted to see the world cured of Lord Voldemort and never lost his hope. And so, while people celebrated his heroism, she mourned the loss of a man who was never made for great wars but rather for great ideas. The bodies were never found. Oh, how she hoped that he would turn up one day on her doorstep, asking with his stupid grin 'So, what have you been up to while I was busy resurrecting?'… She cried, begged Merlin to give him back to her and after a while, she didn't know when exactly, she simply got used to his absence. She stopped setting a plate for him at the dinner table and started sleeping in the middle of the bed, not leaving him his usual side on her right.

She took another look at the picture. Fabian was now frowning at her invisible photographic self, upset of her unwillingness to show herself. Would that be the expression on his face if he heard her deny the Order her help? These were the ideas he died for, the idealistic future of a Great Britain cleansed of the Dark Lord. She suddenly felt a surge of guilt, as though someone had tied a knot in her guts. Her hands shook slightly as she picked up the frame from the table and lifted it in front of her face. She thought of how Dumbledore himself had come to see her when Fabian died and had eased her pain… How could she now deny him the help he asked for? And Remus, he had lost many friends in this war and yet kept fighting. And King… Just like that, it dawned on her.

Her brother knew her well, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't act. She needed Fabian's death not to have been in vain, for his actions to be more than useless bloodshed that would be obliterated in History by Voldemort rising again.

She got up from the couch, took one last glance at the picture. The things you make me do after all this time she thought. She walked to the chimney, took a handful of Floo Powder and stepped into the fire she lit with a swish of her wand, yelling "Headmasters Office, Hogwarts".

She felt her body spin for what felt like hours but she knew to be only mere seconds and arrived where she had intended. The old man was sitting at his desk, writing, not bothering to look up as she stepped out of the fire. His beard and hair were silver and long as ever. He looked at her over his half-moon spectacles as she approached the desk.

'Miss Shacklebolt' he said quietly, setting down his quill 'I was wondering whether I might see you'

'Well I came' was all she could say. Dumbledore nodded and stared at her, his chin resting on his intertwined fingers. 'Where shall I go?' She asked awkwardly. An amused smile passed on his lips and his eyes lit up with that spark of childish joy she remembered from her time at Hogwarts, and just as quickly he became grave again.

'The headquarters are set up at the 12, Grimmauld Place in London.'

She bowed her head in understanding and made her way back to the chimney. The address rang a bell somewhere in her mind but she couldn't quite place it. She'd heard it before but she was damned if she knew where and when. She was about to step into the fire when she heard his voice behind her back 'It is a pleasure seeing you again Miss Shacklebolt'. And she felt herself spinning upwards again.

Before she knew it, she was back home. She steadied herself for a second and decided to apparate to Grimmauld Square immediately rather than to wait for the morning.

When the appeared there, the night had fallen but the weak light of the street lamps was enough for her to see the state of the houses surrounding the square. She went around for a bit, searching for number twelve. As she reached number thirteen though, the house started to move, another one was trying to squeeze between eleven and thirteen, slowly making room for itself. She stood before the house, slightly taken aback and took a few minutes to steady her breath before walking up to the door. The house was in a poor state, whoever gave their house to the Order must've been living somewhere else. She knocked on the old wooden door.

'Sibel!' Remus muttered happily once he opened the door. She offered him the best smile she could muster. She breathed deeply and walked past him into a long and dark corridor, her eyes stopped on a hideous huge troll leg. Merlin, who on earth… and then, sudden as lighting, it dawned on her.

She saw him, many years ago, during their seventh year. He was casually lounging in the grass under the quidditch stands, smoking. He turned his handsome head towards her seventeen years old self and looked at her with his endearingly arrogant stare and said 'And so, I said goodbye and piss off to 12 Grimmauld bloody Place'. The memory faded away and then she saw him. At the far end of the corridor sat a black dog. Sirius Black.

Sibel's knees felt weak and her hands started shaking violently. She was unable to breathe, as if all the air in her lungs had been emptied at once and she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. Amidst the chaos of her own body betraying her, Sibel heard herself mutter 'Did you do it, Black?'. She knew the dog could hear her. She squinted as she saw movement across the corridor. The dog was slowly turning back into a man. He moved towards her silently. She felt like screaming at him, or maybe running away and yet she was unable to. Her body escaped her will.

Once he was only a few meters away from her paralyzed form, he stopped walking and answered her question with a simple 'No'.

'If not you then who?' Sibel breathed.

'Peter' The answer came from Remus behind her. She had almost forgotten about his presence. 'Come on, you need a drink'.

Sibel felt his hand touch her shoulder and shivered. She listlessly let him lead her away, Sirius Black in front of her. They walked her into an enormous and slightly sinister kitchen and sat her down in front of the massive wooden table at the centre of it. She felt her senses slowly coming back to her. Remus gave her a bottle of butterbeer and sat next to her.

'Come on Sibel, you never thought it was odd that he would betray James? You remember how much he hated his family' He said, waving his hand in the direction of Sirius who was seated in front of them, patiently waiting for her wits to come back to her.

'Of course I did. But Pettigrew?' Aloud, it seemed even more ridiculous.

'It's true' Sirius' voice made her jump a little 'I'll tell you the story but not right now'

Sibel closed her eyes for a moment. If he was here, then Dumbledore trusted him… But could she believe without answers, simple because of the faith of an old man once more ? Remus apparently did, and Black was said to have betrayed his closest friends. She opened them again, choosing to trust Remus' instincts and stared at her former classmate. His features had lost their innocence, his once effortlessly beautiful face had lost its juvenile arrogance. He had lost his muscles and his youthful glow, all that was left of him seemed weak and haunted by the atrocities of the past. And yet there was something about him, a small remnant of his old self. Somewhere in his troubled and pained eyes she could still see a tiny spark of mischief, a small reminder of happier days, like an echo of a time when they had hope against all odds.

Her head was buzzing with the implications of these revelations. The man had spent twelve years in Azkaban for nothing, imprisoned in the place of all nightmares without a trial. He had suffered while his name was once more associated with everything he loathed. And he had miraculously found enough humanity in himself to resist the dark creatures, to escape and come back from hell. And they had all believed him guilty. Of course at first, like Remus she had thought I couldn't possibly be true. But then all those muggles, and Pettigrew's finger… the grief of losing yet another couple of friends. And they had accepted it.

'I'm sorry Sirius' Sibel said.

'What for? I would've believed it too, Shacklebolt.' He told her, his voice low and raucous.

Sibel took a sip of her butterbeer and felt relief as the heat diffused in her body. She looked back at him and he winked at her.

The Order of the Phoenix had risen again.

I hope you all liked this first chapter, please tell me what you think of it :)