Chapter 2: Beginnings.

"I got the house!" Hermione announced excitedly at breakfast the next week.

Ron dropped his fork and gazed at her in ecstatic surprise. "You did? Where? Hermione, you're brilliant, you know that?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, didn't I say it's a surprise?, and thank you, respectively. Would you like to go after breakfast?"

"Yes! I'd love to!" Ron pumped his fist in the air.

"Do you all want to come to?" Hermione asked politely.

Thoughts, Ginny? Harry asked mentally.

This is really theirs, Ginny responded. Next time, I definitely want to see it, but today should be for them and them alone.

Harry relayed the message.

"All right," Hermione said, but it was apparent she was slightly relieved. "We'll invite you over as soon as we can."

Meanwhile, Ron was eating. And eating. And eating.

I doubt I've ever seen him eat so fast, Hermione thought with a suppressed grin. And with Ron, that's saying something.

After breakfast, Ron practically ran to the gates of the Manor, past the anti-Apparation wards. Hermione followed him as close behind as she could. She was feeling almost as enthusiastic about this as he was, but the enthusiasm couldn't help but be tinged with a bit of anxiety. What if he doesn't like it? What if I make an utter flop of my job and can't pay for it?

What if, what if, what if, Hermione thought back to herself, in a voice sounding suspiciously like Ron's. Who cares? Of course he'll like it, and in any event, there's no use worrying about it. Don't create problems that don't exist, Hermione.

Hermione skidded to a halt; Ron had stopped just outside the gates. She turned to face him and smiled that special smile she reserved only for Ronald Weasley. "Ready?" she asked with an impish grin.

"Ready! Where are we Apparating to?"

"Now, do you honestly think I'd tell you that yet?" Hermione asked coyly. "You're coming Side-Along with me."

Destination. Determination. Deliberation.

Crack! Squeeze . . . Pop!

"You can open your eyes now, Ron."

He did so, and smiled widely in astonished delight as he took in the room. They were in an informal living room of sorts, furnished with wood flooring and comfortable-looking but unremarkable sofas and chairs. A nicely sized stone fireplace was evidently the provider of Floo access, and a large rectangular opening with no door attached connected the room to the rest of the house.

It didn't have the homey atmosphere yet. It wasn't all that furnished, save for the necessities.

But it was theirs.

"Hermione, you're brilliant," Ron breathed. "I love you. Thank you so, so much."

And for quite some time, the two found themselves engaged in activities for which the surroundings made not one iota of difference.

"Want to see the rest of it?" Hermione asked, rather breathlessly.

"I'd love to."

So Hermione showed a grinning Ron the kitchen, dining room, bedrooms, even the bathrooms. In the last bedroom they saw, the one to the most northeastern end of the house, Hermione sat down on the bed. "I think this one should be ours."

"Why? Because it's the only one that actually has both a bedframe and a mattress in it?" Ron teased.

"Oh, shush. You know it's not completely furnished yet. But actually, there's a much better reason. Look out the window."

Ron did, peeking through the curtains, and after focusing his eyes for a second, gasped. "Hermione— that's—"

"Do you like it?"

"I love it," Ron said fervently. "I love it, I love it, I love it! It's perfect. You were right."

"And what do you think the Weasleys will make of our last name?"

Ron shrugged, though he smiled inwardly at her use of the word our. "We can't exactly hide it. Guess we'll just have to tell them. Somehow, I don't think it'll be all that much of a problem. I remember how much Mum used to wish there was another wizarding family with same-aged kids around us . . ."

"Odd, isn't it? You'll see your own counterpart grow up?"

"But fulfilling, I think." Ron sighed. "I really wasn't all that happy a kid before I got to Hogwarts, you know. Five older brothers and no magical kids my age in the area can do that to you. We're already changing things a lot."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Hermione affirmed. "Now? Do you insist upon informing the residents of Potter Manor immediately, or do you want to have some fun first?" She fluttered her eyelashes suggestively.

"Option two, definitely!"

The curtains fell shut, unheeded.


Harry and Ginny were delighted to hear that Lions' Lair was actually just outside Ottery St. Catchpole.

That really was perfect of Hermione, to find it there. And you'll get to tower over all your brothers . . .

Yes! Ginny giggled. You can't imagine how odd that's going to feel. Percy as a toddler, honestly!

Maybe he'll turn into someone better this time.

The next weeks passed in contented chaos. After a short interview that more than demonstrated more than the requisite talent, Hermione started her job in the Department of Experimental Charms, working a relatively normal schedule for a subject that was anything but.

"It's amazing how different things are in this time," she said one day. "They actually spent weeks looking for a direction-indicating spell, honestly! I showed them Point Me and they just sort of gaped at me."

Ron, meanwhile, was doing his best to make the house fit for habitation. Furniture was purchased and Transfigured, mattresses were procured, and the bookshelves in the master bedroom continued to balloon in size. After some initial gaffes—for instance, the fact that an "air mattress" was not just a mattress priced very affordably—he proved to be surprisingly adept at the task.

Until, finally, came Moving-In Day.

"Thank you so much for having us, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," Hermione said sincerely as two-thirds of the Pack stood in the living room of Potter Manor, four of them clutching Shrinking Charmed trunks. "We honestly didn't have anywhere else to go for a while there."

Paige waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, it was nothing at all. You were a pleasure to have, truly. And remember, anything you need—anything—you need but ask."

Hermione smiled. "I will."

"And Harry?" Charles Potter spoke up; Harry looked at him inquisitively. "You have family here who care about you and will support you in whatever you do. Even from what little of you I've seen over the past couple weeks, I can tell you're going to be making a difference in the world. You moreso than most, probably. I wish you luck in all your endeavors."

"Thanks, Grandpa." Harry moved to shake Charles's hand, but the elder man shifted slightly, and they found themselves hugging.

"And now we're off!" Ginny exclaimed, laughing. "Thank you again, everyone, and don't worry, we'll remember to visit!"

Ron turned toward the fireplace and threw in a handful of Floo Powder. He stepped into the now-green flames, shouted, "The Lions' Lair!" and was whisked away in a whirlwind of hot air.

Hermione followed him, then Ginny, then Harry.

"The Lions' Lair!"

He emerged on the other end coughing, spluttering, and on the ground, but at least he had hit the right fireplace this time.

Ginny was grinning down at him as soon as he got his eyes open. Little trouble, love?

"Oh, shush," Harry mumbled, then looked around as he got to his feet. "Ron, this is great!"

"It is, isn't it?" Hermione said proudly. The room did feel rather cozy; though Harry didn't know it, it had changed dramatically since Hermione bought the house. The walls were done in faded red, with trim in light yellow.

"Hermione wouldn't let me do real Gryffindor colors here," Ron explained. "But I did get to for the bedrooms."

"And the library in Ravenclaw blue and bronze," Hermione added. The bookshelves in the master bedroom were overflowing with books by the time Hermione had finished adding her collection, and it was decided to use the one empty room on the first floor as a sort of library. That room had been all Hermione's work.

"It looks great, you guys," Harry said with a grin. "Really, this is amazing! Which bedrooms do you want us to use?"

Ron showed them upstairs. "You and Ginny can take these two," he said, pointing out two doors right next to each other. He opened them, and Gryffindor colors shone through. "Me and Hermione are at the room at the end of the hall. And, well—" Ron seemed to falter for a bit, then regained his composure. "This bond thing makes you and Ginny as good as married, I guess. So if you want to share a room—"

Harry spluttered and blushed madly. "Er— I—"

It's actually not such a bad idea, love, said a voice in his mind.

He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

Ginny, meanwhile, grinned coyly. "Why, thank you for being so understanding, Ron."

Harry's face turned, if possible, even redder. He looked completely lost, eyes darting around as if in search of an escape route.

"You're doomed, Harry," Hermione noted lightly. "Once a Weasley gets his or her mind set on something, there's nothing that's going to change it. I speak from experience, of course."

This is definitely the most embarrassed I've ever been.

Would you like me to rectify that?

By embarrassing me more? No, thanks.

Hey, it got your mind off Voldemort!

Grumbling under his breath, Harry hoisted his trunk and walked through the door on the left. Ginny followed him right in with her own and shut the door.

"All right, all right, you win," Harry said, cracking a smile. "Now, were you really serious, or were you just saying that to rile up Ron?"

"Serious."

Harry choked on air.

Ginny smiled brilliantly at him. "Harry, you love me, I love you, and we're already bonded for life. You didn't have any problems with this state of affairs until I took it to its logical conclusion. Obviously, I wasn't going to say anything at Potter Manor, but now that we're living independently, don't you think it makes sense?"

"I don't have a problem with it," Harry said quickly, doing his best to regain his composure. "I just—well—I don't want to be a dad before the war is over," he stammered. "Definitely not before you're out of school."

"And you didn't think witches might have come up with ways around that?"

"Well—no."

"News flash, Harry," Ginny said softly. "They have. Although, come to think of it, considering the size of my family I'm not sure my mum ever knew about them . . ."

Harry laughed and grinned bashfully. "All right, you win. Let's get unpacked."

A few minutes later, the two rejoined Ron and Hermione in the living room.

"The two of you get everything resolved?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"Yep. Ginny won, as always."

Ron looked out the window. "I think now might be a good time to introduce ourselves to the Weasleys," he said. "It's the polite thing to do, and if they take issue to our last name, the answers would be better coming from us than from others. Especially if they start asking other people about us . . ."

"Agreed," said Hermione. "Shall we go now?"

"You want us to come too?" Harry asked.

"Well, yes. Quite honestly, I think it would be easier for the Weasleys if they get all the shocks at once."

Ginny shrugged. "Fair enough. Apparate to the front steps of the Burrow?"

Ron nodded. "Let's go."

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!


"Charlie, don't you want some lunch?"

Molly Weasley stared at her four-year-old son exasperatedly. Bill had gone through a period like this too, "not liking" practically any food she might suggest, even those he had never tried, but for him, it had at least been long over by age four.

"No." The redheaded toddler shook his head fiercely. "Don' want any. Want ice cream."

I should never have allowed Arthur to take him to Florean Fortescue's that day . . .

"Charlie, you have to—"

She was interrupted by a sound not often heard at the Burrow. Knock. Knock.

What might it be this time? We don't know anyone who wouldn't just Floo in.

"Charlie, stay here, please. Mummy needs to do something."

It took maybe ten seconds for her to get to the door. "What is it?" she asked distractedly.

Then her gaze took in the four unfamiliar young adults standing on her front steps, two of which looked suspiciously as if they were related to her own family, and she frowned. "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"We just moved in at the vacant house on the outskirts of town," the tallest one said. He had red hair, and looked almost like she imagined Bill grown up might be. "I don't think it had a name before . . . in any event, it's The Lions' Lair now. We're all magical, by the way."

Well, that's a relief. At least they won't be bothered by everything going on in our house. Or by how it stands itself up, if Arthur's stories about Muggle architecture are true.

The bushy brown-haired girl stepped forward. "Please excuse him, he forgets his manners sometimes. I'm Hermione Granger soon-to-be Granger-Weasley, this is Ron Weasley, this," she indicated the other two, "is his sister, Ginny Weasley soon-to-be Potter, and this is Harry Potter. We're very pleased to meet you." She shook Molly's offered hand firmly.

Something is not right here.

The Weasley matriarch looked rather flummoxed. "Er . . . perhaps you'd like to step inside for a spot of tea, dears? I have a feeling you might wish to discuss some things with me?"

"That would be wonderful, Mu– Mrs. Weasley," Ginny said, correcting herself almost too late.

That sounded like 'Mum'. Something is definitely not right here.

"Well, come in, come in, then. No point having you sweltering in this heat all day." Molly walked briskly through the Burrow to the living room. "Here, sit down, and I'll be right back with the tea."

As she busied herself gathering water, teabags, teacups, and charming the lot to produce a drinkable result, Molly Weasley couldn't help but be suspicious of the newcomers. Arthur and I always said that if we ever managed to have a girl, we'd name her Ginevra. They share the last name, they look a lot like us—and by all rights, they shouldn't have been born yet.

Molly returned to the living room, tea tray in hand. She waved her wand idly and cups flew to each of the newcomers. "I believe an explanation is overdue," she said sternly.

Harry shrugged and took a sip of tea. "I guess you're right, Mrs. Weasley. Short version: All four of us were born between 1979 and 1981, and we got thrown back in time during an attack on the Burrow on Ginny's birthday in 1997. Ron and Ginny are your children; I was close to your family because my parents had died on Halloween 1981 and my remaining relatives rather hated me; and Hermione stayed here some summers."

Molly was quite a welcoming person by nature, but this war had changed everyone. She recalled the words of her brothers, Fabian and Gideon, who had chosen to become Aurors: "If you don't know them, no matter how convincing their story seems, don't trust them until they've offered some sort of proof that they are who they say they are. Death Eaters are the most conniving little bastards you'll ever meet. Or won't meet, as I hope the case will be for you." And time travel? How ridiculous . . .

She narrowed her eyes. "That is absolutely unbelievable. I simply cannot believe you would sink to such depths, whoever you are, to gain my sympathy." She stood abruptly. "Out! Out of my house, and never come near my family again!" All four time-travelers looked terribly stricken, and Ginny was on the verge of tears.

A thought wormed its way into Molly's mind amidst the righteous anger. But what if they're telling the truth? Would you really so reject your own famiy? "Unless you can prove you are who you say you are," she added grudgingly.

Ginny's eyes lit up. "Bill is now six years old. Charlie is four. Percy is one. Unless we've changed something, Fred and George, twins, will be born on April 1, 1978. Your birthday is October 30. Dad's is February 6. He works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office in the Ministry. Is that enough?"

Molly let out a deep, shaky sigh. "Yes, yes, I think I believe you now. I'm terribly sorry I treated you so badly, but it really is quite an incredible story, and you know how times are . . . April 1 of next year, you say? Today's July 13. I wonder . . ." She took out her wand and waved it. "Revelare Ventris!" A small sphere of golden mist formed.

She blew on it. It turned blue.

"Well." Molly laughed. "Well. I suppose that's better proof than any I could ask for. I'll have to tell Arthur tonight, I guess . . . Now, what were things like in your reality? How did you meet each other? Are the four of you good friends? I'd love to know." Her expression had morphed almost instantaneously into a much more welcoming one.

Harry smiled. "Yes, we're excellent friends. Me, Ron, and Hermione were pretty much inseparable through Hogwarts. Ginny and Hermione are close too, I'm pretty sure—that's girl stuff, don't ask me for details—" Ginny and Hermione laughed— "and I've been madly in love with Ginny for over a year now."

Molly frowned. "Only a year? Don't you think that's a bit soon to be getting married? Ron and Hermione I guess I can understand, if you've known each other as long as you say, but still, especially at your age . . . And aren't you still in Hogwarts?"

"No, I don't think it's too soon," Ginny said firmly. "But in any case, we're not going to get married for another year. Because yes, I am still in Hogwarts—I'm a year younger than the other three, and I'll be starting my seventh year in September. Honestly, though, Mum—is it okay if I call you that?—"

"Absolutely, dear," Molly said with a maternal smile.

"Well, honestly, we're not exactly ordinary teenagers. We've been through battles with Death Eaters, capture by the same, Harry's actually faced Voldemort—"

Molly, who had been growing increasingly horrified as Ginny spoke, gave a slight squeal. "Please don't say the name," she whispered.

Ginny shrugged. "Fine, I'll call him Lord Snakeface then." The other time-travelers laughed. "Anyway, all of us are currently involved in plans to defeat Lord Snakeface—" more snickers— "and, well, we've had to grow up fast. So no, I don't think we're too young."

My God, what will this world be like in twenty years?

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked, worried.

"No, no, I'm quite all right," Molly said. "It's just a lot to take in at once. Are things very bad where— I'm sorry, when— you came from?"

"Not really," Ron said, "not until 1995, at least. Voldemort got disembodied in 1981, the same night Harry's parents died, and it took that long for him to get a body back."

That's a relief.

"Well, let's discuss something more pleasant, then. Ginny, dear? When did you first meet Harry?"

Ginny smiled. "Well, let's see. It was September 1, 1991, and everyone was heading off to Hogwarts, except me . . ."

A few minutes into their story, a child's voice spoke up. "Mummy, who's Lord Snakeface?" asked Bill. He and Charlie had been listening by the entryway to the living room the whole time.

The time-travelers grimaced and looked at each other. "You explain," they all said simultaneously.


Lily Evans collapsed onto her bed, laughing.

They deserve each other. The horse and the hippo, and the whale of a son they're going to have.

She had just returned from the wedding of Petunia and Vernon Dursley—a highly unpleasant experience for all involved, but her mother had insisted she come. "It'll be good for the family," she had said. "Get to work healing this rift we've managed to make for ourselves."

Lily, for her part, had a feeling the rift had only been made worse.

Honestly, the way he behaved—as soon as he found out I was Petunia's sister, he acted as if I was contaminated or something . . .

Though I suppose that might've been Petunia's influence. She's always going on about how 'freaky' I am, and she was glaring at me all through the ceremony.

She shrugged. Who bloody cares? I've got James, the Pack, and my son from the future, and we're making a difference. That's enough for me.

An owl rapped on the window. Lily stood up, walked over, and unlatched it; the magnificent snowy-white bird swooped in and proferred its left leg for her to untie the letter. She did so, and the bird waited patiently for a response.

What a pretty owl. I don't think I've ever seen one that color before . . .

Sitting back down on her bed, Lily slit open the envelope and read the parchment within.


Dear Lily,

How have your holidays been so far? Ron and Hermione have just moved into their new house—the Floo address is 'The Lions' Lair'—and guess what? They invited me and Ginny to live with them too! It's great that we won't have to be separated from them after Hogwarts. We really have been through everything together.

Anyway, I'm writing to invite you to join us for den-night on the 30th of the month. The whole Pack will be there, if we can manage it, and I think we'll have a lot of fun. I know you and James haven't seen each other all summer, or Sirius and Aletha . . . I keep wondering when the day will come that they stop arguing and start snogging, honestly.

So we'd love to have you on the 30th, or any time before then if you can get access to a method of transportation. The house is in Ottery St. Catchpole, near 'The Burrow' where Ron and Ginny's family lives; Molly and Arthur Weasley have now become the eighth and ninth adults, respectively, to know the truth of our situation. (Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, the Potters, and the Lupins are the others—and yes, I probably am being rather paranoid about this.)

Feel free to send a reply with Hedwig. She's a very smart owl; she'll probably wait for you.

Best wishes,

Harry

P.S. Might you happen to have any more of that Animagus potion on hand? I've finished my head transfiguration, and now I just need to write my final incantation.


Why didn't he just use the mirror? Lily wondered.

Probably didn't think of it. Boys.

"Sorry, Hedwig, I don't have any reply for you." The snowy owl nodded dolefully, then took off and swooped gracefully through the open window.

What a pretty owl indeed. Harry's lucky to have her.

Lily took out the enchanted mirror Harry had given her for Christmas from under her bed, and spoke clearly to it: "Harry Potter." The surface filled with murky black, and a few seconds later, resolved to show Harry's face.

"Lily! I can't believe I forgot about these. Sorry. How's your summer been?"

"Great, thanks. Just Petunia's darn wedding today . . ."

Harry groaned. "She's already married that oaf? I can imagine. So, do you have any of that Animagus potion on hand?"

Lily smiled. "Why, yes, I do. I thought to bring some, just in case. It needs one more ingredient, though, I'll have to finish the brew at your place . . . you have a basic Potions supply kit, right?"

"Of course. And thanks for thinking of that!"

"No problem. So I'll try to come over in a few days, if I can manage to escape my parents, and I'll be there on the night of the 30th for sure."

"Perfect. See you then. Mischief managed."

Harry's face faded from the mirror.


Albus Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk at Hogwarts, sighed, deep in thought.

I believe it is inescapable. The Ministry is simply not doing enough to combat Voldemort's forces; the Aurors are well-equipped to deal with rogue Dark wizards, but not with a Dark army.

And it's looking unpleasantly like such a Dark army is exactly what we have to worry about. News of dementor attacks had increased, as had a few reports of activity by the giants; it was only a matter of time, Dumbledore suspected, before the feral werewolves joined the mix. Which will only hurt people like Remus . . . It's no wonder Voldemort has so much success with 'Dark creatures', honestly. Most wizards hate them.

So if the Ministry's efforts are insufficient, they must be augmented. And I, as de facto leader of the Light, am in a unique position to do that.

"What say you, Fawkes?" he asked mournfully, turning to stroke the plumage of the brilliantly red-and-gold colored phoenix. "What can we do?"

In answer, Fawkes flew to the middle of the room and glowed with a faint tinge of flame as he began to sing more passionately than Dumbledore had ever heard him. And, to his surprise, the old Headmaster found that he understood the phoenix's meaning perfectly.

The Twelfth Order must be called.

And, on the heels of that message, a jumble of names: Minerva McGonagall. Severus Snape. Charles and Paige Potter. Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Edgar Bones. Frank and Alice Longbottom. All the Pack. Alastor Moody. Arabella Figg. Dedalus Diggle. Arthur Weasley. Benjy Fenwick. . . . The list continued on.

Dumbledore smiled slightly. Well, I guess I now know what Harry was referring to when he spoke of the "Order of the Phoenix" during his recounting of the events of his fifth year. It pains me to take such risky, active measures, but I do feel they have become necessary.

Fawkes glided back to his perch and alighted upon it, looking no different than he had a minute before. He gave Dumbledore a questioning glance, as if to say, What, did I do something?

"No, nothing, Fawkes. You merely furnished me with some sorely needed advice."

Fawkes let out one soft note, then fell silent.

"Would you care to take me there now?"

The red-feathered head bobbed yes.

"Excellent. Thank you, Fawkes." Dumbledore stood up and grabbed the tail feather Fawkes offered; there was a flash of flame, and soon the Headmaster's Office was empty save for the snoring portraits and whirring silver instruments.


Headmaster and phoenix reappeared in the living room of the Lions' Lair. Harry and Ginny, sitting on one of the couches, noticed the arrival immediately and stood to greet them. "Hello, Professor," Harry said.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore responded genially. "And you are quite free to call me Albus, especially considering your employment for the next year."

"Thank you, Pr– er, Albus," Harry said. He shook his head bemusedly. "It feels so weird calling you that."

"Nevertheless. . . . Are Ron and Hermione here, by any chance? I believe what I have to say would be of interest to all of you."

As if on cue, Hermione chose that moment to come down the stairs, Ron and Lily in tow, the last carrying a steaming goblet. "It's done, Har— oh, hello, Professor!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he sniffed the air. "Do I wish to know what potion that is, Lily?"

Lily's eyes widened slightly at the unexpected use of her first name, but she kept her calm. "No, Professor, I don't think you do."

"Congratulations on the accomplishment, in any event. I originally came to talk to the four of you who reside here, but Lily, this concerns you as well, so we may as well make ourselves comfortable." He paused for a few seconds as Ron, Hermione, and Lily sat on the other sofa in the room. "Very well. Now, have any of you heard of a group called the Order of the Phoenix?"

He received five nods in response. Lily's was a bit unsure. "Harry's mentioned it in passing, but I don't really know that much about it . . ."

Dumbledore chuckled. "If I receive this response everywhere, it will be slightly worrisome, considering that the group in question does not yet exist. The Order is a set of people I am organizing who wish to make a stand against Lord Voldemort's advances. The Ministry has proven itself incapable of mustering the necessary strength alone . . . I would continue, but by your facial expressions you have already accepted my offer."

"What offer, Professor?" Lily asked, puzzled.

"I would like to invite you to join the Order of the Phoenix as founding members."

Five gasps. Five shocked grins. One set of twinkling eyes.

"You do understand the risks involved, do you not?" Dumbledore asked seriously, facing somewhat in Lily's direction. "Lord Voldemort is ruthless in his methods, and there is a not insignificant chance that your activities within this group may have terrible consequences for yourselves or others. This is war, you understand. People may be hurt, or killed . . . I hesitate greatly to even consider anyone still in school for such a role, but Fawkes suggested it, and I know that all the Pack holds skill and maturity beyond their years. So I ask you, all of you: do you accept?"

Lily smiled. "I accept. Thank you, Professor."

"I accept," said Ginny.

"I accept." Ron's voice was firm, with none of its frequent light-heartedness.

"I accept." Hermione spoke somberly, fixing Dumbledore with a knowing gaze.

Harry was the last to speak. "I accept," he said with finality, seeming to put all of his hatred for Voldemort and his desire to end the war into two simple words.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly. "Excellent. I thank you, all of you. I know it is no easy decision to make. Our first meeting will most likely be in a few days, in a room off my office at Hogwarts; the Floo address is 'Headmaster's Chambers, Hogwarts'. The room is restricted-access; you, Harry, will have no issues with entrance due to your status as a blood Heir, but all other entrants must be specifically indicated. May I do so now?"

"Sure, Professor," Ron said easily. Dumbledore stood and walked to each of the four in turn, tapping their heads with his wand and murmuring a phrase in Latin. "And the same applies to all of you as I said to Harry earlier: you are quite free to call me Albus, at least when doing so would not arouse suspicion. Yes, even you, Lily and Ginny."

Harry's eyes lit up in sudden worry. "Pr– Albus? If blood Heirs can get in, wouldn't that mean Voldemort could?"

Dumbledore sat back down as he finished his ministrations and sighed. "No, Harry. Not all blood descendants of the Founders, not all those with their gifts, are considered blood Heirs for the purposes of such magic. Tom Riddle, through the evil and destruction he wrought on the world and on himself, is no longer eligible for the title. Also, the magic is dependent upon a legitimate tie to the school, one which all of you hold, and which all former students loyal to Hogwarts hold, but which Tom certainly does not. Does that answer your question satisfactorily?"

"Quite, Albus. Thank you."

"No, thank you." Dumbledore stood in one fluid motion. "Fawkes will give you a signal of sorts the day of our first meeting. And now, I must be off, to tender the residents of Potter Manor with the same offer I gave you. Good day to you all."

In a flash of flame, the man and the phoenix again disappeared.


Dumbledore cleared his throat, and all conversation in the spacious room immediately quieted. He looked around, surveying the maybe two dozen people sitting around him with mild curiosity. So different, all of us. No human could have handpicked this group. Not even I.

And yet every single person Fawkes named was interested in what I had to say. Not all accepted, of course—phoenixes fail spectacularly when it comes to figuring out real life—but all were interested.

I never would have guessed there were so many good people in our world. Perhaps current circumstances are causing me to be a bit jaded . . .

Fawkes crooned softly, bringing Dumbledore's attention back to the matter at hand. "Welcome to the first meeting of the Twelfth Order of the Phoenix," he said.

Dead silence.

Well, I suppose a bit of explanation is in order. These people hardly know what to expect, after all.

"Historically, during times of great strife in the wizarding world, a phoenix has, shall we say, 'recommended' to its companion a means of bringing together people to combat the strife. No one truly knows how such magic works; indeed, there is nothing written about past Orders, because such groups tend to be quite secret in nature. And, obviously, nothing is infallible. But it is such a group which I have called tonight.

"I must say that it heartens me more than you can know that so many of you are willing to choose what is right over what is easy in this case. War is upon us. I will not downplay the danger involved here." (Dumbledore's vague surface Legilimency picked up that something was highly amusing to a few Order members at this point, but thankfully the people involved, whoever they were, did not disrupt his very solemn words by laughing.) "Some of you may be hurt. Some may be killed. Considering the size of this group, I would consider it more likely than not." He paused for a few seconds, noticing slight fear in the minds of a few, waiting as determination grew to drown it out. "If any of you should wish to leave at this point, I certainly will not hold it against you."

No one spoke. No one moved.

"Then please, each in turn approach Fawkes and do as I will." The wise Headmaster turned to face his phoenix, lifted his right hand, and spoke clearly. "I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, do this day give my oath of allegiance to the principles of the Light and to this Twelfth Order of the Phoenix. I will endeavor always to work toward peace for wizarding Britain and to defend against the forces of the Dark wherever they may intrude upon our lives. On my magic, so I swear."

Fawkes and Dumbledore were briefly enclosed in a nimbus of white light, during which Fawkes trilled another oddly comprehensible melody. You are the leader, my companion, he was saying. Do what you must, as well as you can.

As the Headmaster stepped away, he noticed a golden-colored phoenix pendant, much like the one Snape had received about a month before, hanging from a thin chain over his robes. Phoenixes truly are magnificent creatures . . .

"Professor, what's that?" growled Alastor Moody from his place near the front of the room.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "In truth, Alastor, I haven't any idea. It appeared on me after I swore the oath. I would suppose that they are means of marking our membership; obviously, you need not wear one unless you wish to."

"Fair enough."

It so happened that Harry was the next to stand. He walked toward Fawkes and spoke the same oath that Dumbledore had.

The response rather surprised him. You are the second, my friend, Fawkes seemed to say. You have much yet to learn, but you possess remarkable purity and determination that will serve you well in this fight. You are the next generation. Learn, do, and win. As Harry sat down, he looked down at his robes; the phoenix pendant had evidently been added to the Pack-pendants' chain, which was now visible to all. He noticed its eyes were gold, while the rest of the design was silver.

After Ginny swore the oath, the two had a short silent conversation. Did Fawkes say anything to you? Harry asked.

Yes. 'You are the hope, my child. Never lose it.' She sounded puzzled, trying to work out what the bird had been trying to get across.

Harry smiled as he relayed to her his own experience. And you are hope, Gin. At least for me. How many times have you been the one to get me out of a rut, now? Four? Five?

I guess. She fell silent for a second. Fawkes really is amazing, isn't he? I never knew he could do something like this.

Voldemort's side isn't the only one with powerful magic. We've got a chance, and then some.

Once everyone had sworn and was once again sitting around the table, Fawkes flamed away back to Dumbledore's office and the Headmaster nodded significantly towards Harry. The latter stood up.

All right, this is it . . . I really, really hope we can trust these people.

He and Dumbledore had discussed revealing the four time-travelers' largest secret before the Order meeting, and Dumbledore had been highly encouraging in its favor. Ultimately, with some persuasion, Harry had agreed. However, revealing that secret required that the other members remain quiet long enough to allow Harry to speak, which, for some who were just now getting a good look at him, was not going to be happening.

"Look at him," Moody scoffed. "He's just a kid. What right does he have to be in here with the best of us?"

I'd hoped this wouldn't be necessary, but . . .

Harry cocked his head challengingly, and a smile grew as Ginny supplied him with an utterly excellent idea.

When I snap my fingers, attack the hair. Not the man, only the hair. Do not allow the man to feel any heat.

He snapped his fingers.

The top of Alastor Moody's head lit ablaze.

The younger Order members were able to hold in their laughter for maybe five seconds. Seeing their highly skilled and utterly irascible leader in such a position was too much for some of the Aurors to resist.

"And what might you be laughing about?" Moody growled threateningly.

That, of course, only made the Longbottoms laugh harder.

"Look at your hair," Arabella Figg said shortly.

Moody lifted a hand to his scalp to do so, and found it bare. He scowled menacingly at Harry, who kept a practiced innocent expression, for about ten seconds before emitting a bark of laughter. "Fine, fine, sonny, you win. Shouldn't've underestimated you, now should've I . . . CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he shouted, slamming his fist on the table. Harry didn't even flinch; Moody looked at him curiously.

Harry allowed a small smile to seep through his expression. "I've heard it before, Auror Moody, which is one of the things I was about to explain. But first, I see a few words on our ages would be appropriate. Pack, stand up."

Ten chairs grated as ten people stood up. A few of the adults looked on askance at the sheer number of them.

"I see you didn't notice us before." A few nervous titters. "I'm Harry Potter. Me, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger soon-to-be Granger-Weasley are all eighteen." The people he named indicated themselves as he did so. "Gertrude 'Danger' Granger is sixteen. All the rest of us—James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Rachel Trent, and Lily Evans—are seventeen. Together, we are known as the Pack." He fell silent for a second or two, collecting his thoughts. "We may not have all the reflexes of an Auror, and we certainly won't claim we're finished learning new skills. But I don't think, Auror Moody, that even you could claim that."

Moody shook his head once, silently. Looks like we made an impression . . .

"What we do have," Harry said clearly, "is maturity, a reason to fight, and the determination to see this war through. Those, I think, are what we need in the Order. Skills can be learned. Those can't. So please, don't discount us on account of our years. We're not asking to be included in the stuff requiring finesse and years of carefully honed spellwork; those, we'll be more than happy to leave to the most experienced. We are asking for our input to be recognized. For one, I think our perspective is damn valid. For another, four of us have lived through this before."

James made a slight motion with his hands, and in unison all four Marauders and Danger sat down. I'll have to ask him about that, Harry thought. Lily and Rachel followed a split-second later.

"I was born on July 31, 1980."

A few sharp inhalations of breath were heard; for the most part, though, Harry's audience showed their shock only with widened eyes and incredulous expressions.

"On October 31, 1981, Lord Voldemort attacked the home of Lily and James Potter. After killing both of them, he attempted to do me in as well, using an extraordinarily Dark curse I only know the effects of. The circumstances are complicated and involve details I can't know, as I was a baby at the time, but basically that curse bounced off me and hit Voldemort instead. He got whisked from his body, I got this scar—" Harry parted his bangs and pointed to it— "that gives the two of us a tenuous mental link and grants me one particular unusual ability, and I was raised by my rather horrid aunt and uncle."

Lily snorted. "More than rather," she muttered.

"Well, yeah." Harry went on to summarize the events of his six years of Hogwarts life, lingering the longest on those bits of it that touched upon the war and the reformation of the Order.

When he had finished, no one looked ready to claim that the teens were too young for the Order of the Phoenix.

Moody, though, did have one last concern. "I don't know any of you personally, you know. How can I trust that none of you will betray us?"

"Paranoid as ever, Auror Moody," was Harry's glib response. He turned serious. "But we have sworn an oath. It is binding by magic, and none who breaks it shall ever find peace, by day or by night, in life or in death . . ." Harry extended his hands slightly. Ron and Hermione, to his left and right, stood up, as did the rest of the Pack in a sort of rippling wave. "My hand in yours."

He joined hands with Ron and Hermione. "My wand in yours."

All of the Pack was standing by now, clasping hands. "My life for yours."

The last line was said in surprising unison. "Now and forever."

Fawkes crooned softly; the sound was muffled by the wall separating Dumbledore's office and the room they were in, but it was still quite clear. Moody blinked, as did a few of the others.

The moment passed. All eleven Pack members present sat down.

"Thank you," said the old Auror in a slightly gentler growl. "I'm satisfied now."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Excellent. And now that that is complete, on to other business. First, Voldemort's plans. At the moment, we do not know much; our spy tells us he is lying low, continuing his usual atrocities but not planning any new ones. That may change dramatically soon, but for now it seems a prophecy concerning Harry here has shaken him rather badly. . . ."

Well, that went well. Too bad Aletha couldn't join without parental consent; she would've loved the look on Moody's face!

We can still show her. Ginny tapped her pendants unobtrusively. Remember the Ravenclaw gift?

Oh. Right.


On the day of July 30, the Lair received a seemingly relentless stream of Pack members via Floo.

"Those Muggles had the right idea with their bore-dell things," Ron said after Aletha had arrived, been careful not to announce her presence, and managed to surprise the living daylights out of him in the living room. "Noise when someone comes in. Why can't wizards figure that out?"

"Doorbell, Ron," Hermione corrected absently. She gazed into space for almost a minute, during which time Ron was careful not to say or do anything. "Got it!" she exclaimed triumphantly after a few tentative wand movements, then pointed her wand at the fireplace and muttered an incantation.

Ding-dong. Sirius came through the Floo.

He frowned. "Why is everyone staring at me?"

"Oh, I managed to scare Ron by sneaking up on him," said Aletha lightly, "which prompted him to wish the Floo had a doorbell, which made Hermione invent one, and it worked on the first try. Is that what you do at work all day, Hermione?"

Hermione beamed. "Some of it. But mostly it's a lot more theoretical work before you try and a lot more experimentation before it's done. I can only do the really simple combinations in my head—that one was a Gateway Charm charged with Doorbell Charms (yes, Ron, there is such a thing) and powered off the fireplace."

"Only you, Hermione, would think that was really simple," Ron muttered. "Me, I couldn't come up with that to save my life."

"Oh really?" Hermione challenged. "Who, then, was it that put those Color-Changing Charms on the Slytherins last year?"

"Are you referring to the one time it wasn't us, or one of the five it was?" Sirius asked innocently. "Although we still got the fall for that first one . . . masterful work, truly, don't know how they managed it. Now might you have inside information, dear Hermione?"

Hermione laughed. "It was Harry and Ginny definitely, but I thought Ron might've helped them."

Sirius's expression turned inscrutable. "I think a word must be said with our young old Mr. Potter. Where might he be again?"

"Den room." At the Marauder's quizzical look, Hermione elaborated. "Upstairs, first door on the right. Added some Enlarging Charms and moved all the mattresses in there."

"Excellent! Follow me, please." Sirius began an exaggerated march up the stairs, a bemused Ron, Hermione, and Aletha in tow. He knocked on the door to the den room.

"Come in," said Harry's muffled voice.

"Harry James Potter!" Sirius said in his best stern voice (which was not very stern at all). "Did you or did you not, on the morning of September 3, 1976, play a prank on the Slytherins for which we got detention?"

Harry grinned. "Well, you were being prats at the time."

"True enough. Marauders! Opinions?"

James waggled a finger at him. "Ah-ah-ah, Sirius. Remember Rule 1 and Addenum 42(a)?"

Seven people looked at Remus quizzically; they were sure he would be the only one to even think of explaining. "Rule 1," he recited. "'Don't get mad. Get even.'"

"Do your worst," Harry said. "I'm sure you've pranked all the other Defense teachers."

"True enough," Sirius replied easily.

"Addenum 42(a)," Remus continued. "Commonly known as the Hypocrisy Agreement. We all tried to get our parents to agree, but none of them would do it. 'We'll follow the rules if you do.'"

A few of the non-Marauders laughed.

"And it occurs to me," James said suddenly, "that we have never discussed the other side of that agreement. Namely, we are all growing up, leaving school, getting old—"

"Hey!" Ron said indignantly. Everyone else laughed.

"—and someday we will have children of our own, to which we may pass down our finest traditions." Lily glared at him. "Suitably moderated, of course. Now! We always wanted adults to be logical. Let's fulfill that role ourselves. Move to accept the Hypocrisy Agreement for any children we might someday have. All in favor say 'aye'."

"Aye!" shouted a chorus of voices.

"Vote is unanimous," Hermione droned. "Motion carried."

The Pack burst out laughing.


(A/N: I have a simply wonderful idea for the next chapter that I'm pretty sure a lot of you will like. There's a hint in the first scene of Chapter 1 . . . Don't forget that review!)