Chapter 1: The New Order
To any passerby, Hogwarts castle would have appeared abandoned and dilapidated, with signs warning against its dangers. Should any wandering hiker even manage to get close enough to enter the remote castle, a great feeling of unease would have settled upon him, and suddenly a forgotten appointment would have made itself known so that the mysterious abandoned building was no longer of any importance. An onlooker, because of these defenses, would never think twice of Hogwarts, and would thus remain unaware of the great event that had taken place there just the night before.
To those who were privy to the secrets of Hogwarts, however, to the great magical world that it served, the castle would have looked anything but abandoned. Its walls were battle-worn, with great pieces of the castle littering the sprawling grounds, but its windows, even the broken ones, were ablaze with light and excitement. The castle, oddly enough, seemed to be repairing itself. The great chunks that littered the lawn were soaring into the air and affixing themselves to their respective places on the castle walls. Those equipped with the magical talent that allowed them to see Hogwarts for what it truly was—an educational institution for young witches and wizards—would see the reparations being made to the castle, as well as the people who bustled back and forth across the castle windows, their light-framed silhouettes exulting in the events of the day. And surely anyone equipped with this magical talent would know of the historical event that had taken place here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and would not, as a Muggle would be inclined to do, think of viewing the current state of Hogwarts without going inside to help.
The pain that engulfed the inhabitants of the castle was eased by a great excitement that had stolen in with the light of the new day. A little over an hour ago, a mere seventeen year old boy had done the impossible and alleviated three decades of fear from the wizarding world. A boy—man, now, as he had just come of age—named Harry Potter had defeated the greatest dark wizard of all time, whose body now lay, ignored, in a small chamber of the castle. Harry Potter had disappeared soon after, off to bed or some other business it was assumed, but the castle inhabitants could not help but continue to feel relief and even joy in his absence. Lord Voldemort had been defeated and it was no longer necessary for the wizarding world to live in fear of his powerfully growing tyranny.
***
While Hogwarts, and all of the wizarding world for that matter, celebrated the end of a long slew of sleepless nights, a small group of maybe five darkly clothed people stole through the shadows of the Forbidden Forest and disappeared with loud cracks from the happy Hogwarts grounds. Unnoticed by the celebratory group, a few surviving proponents of Lord Voldemort had gathered in the darkness and formed a new order. These associates were all young, maybe school age, and filled with an ardent desire for glory and redemption. Their remote place of hiding was filled with enough books to do Madam Pince proud, although certainly these were not the types of books she would have approved.
As the boys allowed their eyes to adjust to the dim light of the place to which they had apparated, the smallest of the lot exclaimed, "We must go back and fight! He is only our age—younger than some, even!"
A cool reply was issued from the furthest corner of the seaside hut. The silky voice sent shivers unrelated to the chilly sea air through the gathered boys, and the reply was so soft that it might have been passed off for a change in the winds. The boys, however, knew the voice, and knew that its silkiness was not to be written away. They listened intently as the dark corner commanded, "All in good time, young Rivers. It is haste and fool heartedness that will be the death of us, not a boy with mediocre talent. Patience is the only ally we need now."
One of the braver boys made his skepticism known. "How did the Dark Lord amass such great powers and know so much to his advantage? Surely we cannot equal him in skill?"
"He disappeared, have you not heard the stories, you insolent bunch of children? And we will do the same. Unheard of for years, we will return to reap the glory that is rightfully ours. Prepare yourselves," the speaker commanded while gesturing to the teetering piles of ancient, stained volumes. "This is unlike any lesson you have encountered at school."
With a final, piercing gaze at the small group of boys huddled in the leaking hovel, the speaker gathered his black cloak about himself and stepped out into the coastal gale. He took two steps, called over his shoulder to the boys, "Be better informed when I return" and spun on the spot into the rainy darkness.
***
Back at Hogwarts, celebrating witches and wizards were caught up in the warmth from the rising sun, setting their wands down to hug their children and to make toasts to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived once more, who was currently making his way down the spiral staircase of the headmaster's office in exhaustion. No one noticed that a few teenage boys were missing from the celebrations; perhaps their parents had perished in the battle, or perhaps they never had parents, like Voldemort himself. Whatever the reason, the celebrations at Hogwarts went on triumphantly, naïve to the small gathering of boys in a hut on the country's coast.