QLFC Round 9: Seeker; Appleby Arrows, "What (if anything) does the Order of the Phoenix do in response to Voldemort rising to power?"

Wordcount: 1115

Other Challenges and Competitions:

Lucky Duck Bi-Weekly Challenge: 35. VoldemortWins!AU

Challenges by the Dozen: level six [write six fics, each in a different genre] #3

A big thanks to Zero and Debs for betaing :)

August 10, 1998.

The famed Order of the Phoenix was sitting at a worn-down, long table in a swelteringly hot and forgotten bar. It was described by many as being "like the Leaky Cauldron in concept, except a complete rip-off with barely decent alcohol." After all, it was Mundungus Fletcher who had found them the shelter.

Of course, none of them could complain too much, really, as they would rather not be outside with all the Death Eaters roaming everywhere, killing wizards and Muggles alike for fun.

They hadn't done much except drink, bicker, eat, drink, bicker, and then occasionally sleep if they were lucky.

After Harry Potter was murdered by You-Know-Who, everything just kept going downhill.

So, for now, they had to deal with being cooped up in the bar.

As one of them passed a bottle of Firewhiskey to the person on their right, they muttered about alcohol being just about the only thing left in the bar, and that they needed other supplies to survive, didn't Shacklebolt know?

The aforementioned Kingsley Shacklebolt, who happened to be the leader of the Order, was currently sitting next to the corner of the table and slowly drinking his own cup of Firewhiskey. He honestly preferred not to engage in all the daily, petty fights and debates about plans. The approved plans rarely even happened, anyway. Kingsley had ordered them to kill themselves first rather than be tortured and let slip the location of the Order. As no Death Eaters (or Snatchers, for that matter) had come knocking on the door yet, he assumed the Order was still safe and went on moping at the bar.

"No, you don't understand! She's Hermione, and she's my girlfriend!" bellowed Ron Weasley as he slammed his fists down on the table. His face was red, and he was slurring a bit. A few days ago, Hermione Granger had been on one of the cleverest missions yet, but she had yet to return. Ron refused to believe that she was dead and kept on insisting that they should send out a rescue team to go find her.

Molly Weasley was also rather red in the face, although the redness was caused more by anger instead of drinking. "It's too dangerous, Ron! There's only a slim chance that you'll come back, and I will not lose any more of my sons!"

"Your mother is right," Arthur Weasley quickly added, not wanting to get into an argument with Molly.

Ron practically hissed back. "You know, I'm of age, Mum! You're not in control of me anymore! I can do what I want, and what I want to do right now is go find Hermione!"

"If you won't think of me, think of the Order! We can't afford to lose you, Harry, and Hermione." Molly turned her head towards Kingsley now, who had been watching the whole affair with no comment. "Kingsley, can't you tell my son that he can't go out on the mission?" she pleaded.

Kingsley was still silent, save for his breathing. He contemplated it. Ron and whoever he took with him were obviously going to fail and die on the mission, but there wasn't much point in keeping Ron cooped up in the bar when his heart was foolishly yearning. He would find some way to get out and save Hermione.

"He can go," Kingsley stated with no further explanation. Molly looked like she was about to burst out into tears, but she rearranged her face into a smile for her son.

"Charlie, George, and I will go with him," Bill declared, standing up suddenly. Molly opened her mouth to protest again, but Kingsley hushed her.

"You can't keep them from going, Molly," he said, and she understood his words. Of course, even though she couldn't stop them, that wouldn't make it any less painful for her in the end.

He leaned back in his chair and watched the four Weasley sons exit.

August 19, 1998

They still hadn't returned, and the Order was in about the same state as it was before, if not a little bit more drunk and desperate.

As usual, another debate filled with bickering had broken out. There seemed to be two current and hopeless plans on the table at that moment.

"We need to go find my sons!" Arthur shouted out, glaring at the people around him. "I can't just rest without knowing what happened to them!"

"For Merlin's sake calm down, Arthur," Minerva McGonagall snapped back at him. "It would be best to scout out some potential allies. The Order is too weak as it is! We can't get anything done! Just think about what you're planning to do for once. It's ridiculous to send a rescue after a rescue team. It just wastes people!"

Kingsley sighed a bit and took another sip from his drink. The atmosphere was so tense, and barely anybody was sober anymore. At times, the Voldemort-controlled world out there seemed better than in here.

"Maybe we should just wait and lay low for a while. Wait until You-Know-Who gets tired of this." Kingsley's suggestion was not popular among the others, though, so they ignored that he had said anything.

As per custom, all heads swiveled towards Kingsley, asking for his opinion and approvals.

Kingsley put his fingers to his temple. "Feel free to go, all of you," he said wearily. "Remember our secrecy promise, though."

He watched as the majority of the Order members flooded out of the bar.

August 21, 1998

And then there were two. Kingsley sat at the now desolated and empty table, while Mundungus was standing not too far away polishing some glasses. It was much more depressing and quiet.

Suddenly, there were several loud and powerful knocks at the door. "Open the bloody door or we'll tear it off its hinges!" a slightly muffled voice shouted from the other side of the door.

Kingsley looked in Mundungus' direction and smiled sadly. I understand. It's fine, he said silently in his head. Feel free to save your sorry behind; I'm okay with it. There isn't much point in continuing on as the Order is right now.

Mundungus averted his eyes from Kingsley. "I, er, sorry Shacklebolt," he said as he Apparated away quickly.

There was a loud bang as the Snatchers kicked down the door and strode in, led by Scabior. They found Kingsley still sitting there at the table, sipping at a Firewhiskey.

Kingsley had one thought before Scabior and the other Snatchers knocked him out.

If only the Order had done more to fight against Voldemort when he killed Harry, maybe things wouldn't be this way. If only Voldemort hadn't won…