Disclaimer: Same thing. I only own Ana. The Harry Potter series is the work of JK Rowling

So interestingly enough, I've realized that when you update something at 3:00 in the am, you end up being super tired when you wake up and you get absolutely no reviews. Lol. Anyways, new chapter. Hopefully this one will get me some reviews.

I groaned when I closed the door to my motel room. A small, harassed looking owl was perched on my comforter with a scroll of parchment. I sighed and wrinkled my nose when I realized the owl must have been here for awhile, because the piece of parchment wasn't the only thing that was lying on my comforter.

"Ugh! Don't think you're getting a tip or anything from me!" I told the owl. It hooted indignantly and bit my hand when I reached for the parchment, and I resisted the urge to ram the animal's head through my dressing table. The scroll was heavy, and out of it slid a small pouch with a note that said, "Give this to Caligula." I handed the small pouch to the owl, who merely looked at it and continued to harass me for a tip. I ignored it and tossed the letter in the bin, then on a sheet of lined paper wrote:

Professor,

I refuse to tip the animal. My bed now smells like owl poo thanks to that bloody bird.

Ana

P.S. You owe me a new comforter.

P.P.S. Do not try to contact me again.

I folded it in half and gave it to Caligula, who nearly bit my hand off in the process of taking the letter. I glared at it. "Quite an appropriate name, you disgusting animal." The owl returned the look and flew out the window with the pouch and letter clutched in it's beak. I threw the covers off of the bed and silently hoped the bird would have a sudden heart attack right over the Atlantic. I went to the dingy laundry room down the hallway and inserted money into the machine, then threw the comforter into the wash. I headed back to my room and decided to begin practicing again.

The past few years I had been practicing my magic again, and without Dumbledore using Ligilimency on my every other week, my powers were coming back stronger than ever. I had brought all of my old Hogwarts stuff with me when I left England, and was now currently residing a small town in Montana. True to my word, I moved every few months, and didn't bother to get apartments, preferring to stay in cheap motels or wherever would take me in. I made my money doing odd jobs, but would get a real one every once in a while, thus giving me the money I needed for bus and train fares.

I turned on my television to the comedy channel and became so engrossed in a famous Muggle comedian's act that after an hour had passed I barely heard the knock on my door. I swore under my breath, realizing that I hadn't practiced at all, and was still wearing the uniform of the diner I worked at. I stood up to answer the door, and started to open it, then shut the door in the face of whoever it was at the door to double back and put my wand away. Prepared with an apology, I opened the door to let whoever it was in, when I saw that it was none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"Sir. Not to seem rude, but I don't believe you got the owl I sent back." Dumbledore pretended not to notice my hostile tone and smiled pleasantly at me. It was the same Dumbledore that I remembered, with only a few differences. He was wearing a bright green cloak over sky blue robes the same color as his twinkling blue eyes. He was still tall as ever, but his beard and hair were longer, and more white than the brownish gray it had been before. He wore his half moon spectacles through which he surveyed the room. I shut the door as he took in the chipped paint on the grimy gray walls, the worn queen sized mattress which looked even more depressing than usual without the comforter, the abundance of TV dinners, and the small cable television set.

"Considering you have not responded to the last four letters I sent you and have done a very good job at throwing me off of your trail, I decided that it would be best if I visited you myself," he said lightly. His beard twitched as he struggled not to laugh at the look on my face.

"But how- Wait! My wand! My magic! You used your ministry connections to track any magical activity associated with my wand!" Dumbledore attempted to look sheepish but failed miserably and spread his hands pleadingly, as he had done when I told him I wanted to leave Hogwarts.

"I am afraid that I need your assistance." I sighed and indicated that he sit in a chair near the door, but he just pulled out his wand and conjured two purple chintz armchairs for us. I took one chair and he took he other.

"Well? What do you need?" Dumbledore chuckled and tucked his wand back inside his robes. I reached behind me and pulled my wand out from under my mattress, and conjured up a warm red set of robes which I immediately put on. It was the middle of January, and the motel was not the warmest place to stay.

"Yes, I suppose we should get right to the point. You have heard of a Lord Voldemort?" I flinched slightly but did not look away from him.

"Yes," I said slowly, cautiously. Dumbledore was watching my reaction very carefully and waited for me to continue. "According to rumors, he is based in Britain, but he has many followers here too. I've been sticking mostly to small towns and country villages, as most Death Eater activity here is centered around the bigger cities." I didn't continue, opting to let Dumbledore say what he wanted to say.

"I think perhaps it would be best if we continued this somewhere safer, where we would have less of a chance at being overheard. I stared at him suspiciously but followed him out my sliding glass door and a little down the road. We stopped suddenly and I looked around. There were no street lights and nobody out that I could see. Dumbledore took my arm and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "We will have to Apparate to a place with a floo connection." I nodded and held onto his arm.

There was a crack and I opened my eyes to see that we were outside of a rundown house. There were few neighbors, and the surrounding houses looked dark. On the steps of the house was a bum wrapped in filthy clothes, who merely glanced up and nodded when he saw Dumbledore and I approaching. I tugged on Dumbledore's arm as we made our way up the rickety steps, and I had an image of me falling through the rotting wood. I quickly bounded up the steps before I asked him my question.

"Sir, what is this place?" He opened the door and gestured for me to follow him. The inside of the house was just as miserable looking as the outside. The furniture was damp and old and the entire house smelled of mold. It was dark, except for a lit fireplace in the corner.

"It is an open Floo station for traveling witches and wizards who need to quickly contact someone in the wizarding world. In this case, we must get back to Hogwarts." He pulled a little pouch from his robes and tossed the sparkling Floo powder. I cringed, as it had been years since I had traveled via Floo Network, and stepped into the fireplace. "Hogwarts Headmaster's office!" I yelled, unsure of if I was doing it right. I felt the familiar but nevertheless nauseous jerk in the pit of my stomach, and the dingy house and Dumbledore spun out of the sight. I closed my eyes to protect them from the smoke and ash and fireplaces spinning in front of me. Just before I felt I was going to be sick, I was tossed face first into what I guessed was the Headmaster's office.

When I opened my eyes, I saw the desk with the portrait of Dippet behind it, and, I noticed with a laugh, a small plaque on said desk reading "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster". It of course looked quite different, with many of Dumbledore's personal effect moved into the large room, the most prominent being a large scarlet bird in the corner. It looked like a giant red peacock and let out a small cry when Dumbledore appeared next to me seconds later.

"I had no idea you were Headmaster now, sir, though it shouldn't surprise me. You were the obvious candidate even while I was here. And I must say I rather like the way you've decorated in here, professor." Dumbledore smiled and indicated for me to sit down. He took the chair on the other side of the desk. I could remember being in here before, the few times that Tom hadn't been around to bail me out of trouble, or the even rarer times when both he and I had been caught causing trouble.

"I have not been your professor for nearly 30 years, Ana. I think you have deserved the honor of being able to call me Albus." He smiled and his blue eyes twinkled with mirth, and I couldn't help grinning back. Dumbledore had always been my favorite professor at school. Actually, he had been everybody's favorite, except for Tom's. Suddenly, the twinkle in his eye was gone, and he leaned forward, pushing towards me the Daily Prophet. I shivered when I read the title. Another massacre, another picture of the hideous Lord Voldemort. I stared into those cold red eyes, and he laughed and waved his wand at me threateningly, and I wondered where I had seen those eyes before….

"Does he look familiar?" Dumbledore asked quietly. I looked up to see him watching me sadly. I put down the paper, confused.

"Of course he does. Every wizarding paper in the world has either him or his Death Eaters on the front cover of the papers for years now. It's to be expected." Dumbledore continued to act as if I had not snapped at him so rudely and walked over to a tall curio cabinet. He stood there for a moment, and quite suddenly put his wand to his right temple. I watched him warily. I had seen movies in which the depressed Muggles would put strange objects called guns to their heads and blow their brains all to tiny bits. But Dumbledore took his wand away from his head, a long silvery strand of…something…attached to it. He put the silvery substance into a large golden bowl inside the cabinet. There was a faint glow coming from the bowl, and I got up to see what it was. Curiously, I peeked out from behind Dumbledore and saw a silvery, swirling mist in the bowl. I reached out to touch it before remembering that sticking your hand into an unknown substance is not a good idea. Dumbledore and I stood in silence except for the occasional ruffling of the phoenix's feathers. He turned to face me.

"I want to show you something," Dumbledore said quietly. I did not take my eyes off the basin as he prodded it with the tip of his wand. As the image swam to the surface, I clasped my hands over my mouth and let out a cry of horror. It was Tom Riddle, but not as I had known him. He took another step forward and stared at the blood colored eyes. He was much, much paler, and his curling black hair was gone to reveal his waxy, white, and slightly disfigured head. The features of his face looked odd and distorted, and his fine Roman nose was now squashed into his face, making him look rather like a pig. I remembered him as he had been when we were in school. Lush dark curls, deep brown eyes, popular, grinning, and always surrounded by friends. Where was that boy now?

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researched than here, at Hogwarts? Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

The voice had the distinct sound of Tom's, but this man's voice was very high and cold. It couldn't be Tom. But as I sadly looked at those scarlet, bloodshot eyes, and then back at the paper on Dumbledore's, I knew it was true. The boy I had wrongly considered to be my friend all of those years was Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore sighed and patted my hand gently, but I pulled away and returned to my seat. The room was spinning and I was finding it hard to remain standing up. After waiting until I had caught my breath, Dumbledore folded his hands on the table and began to speak.

"That was almost twenty years ago. He was applying for Defense against the Dark Arts. I, of course, turned him down, and he became quite enraged. I am afraid I have not been able to hold onto a Defense professor since then. Afterwards there was no whisper of Tom anywhere. Everyone assumed that he had died or gotten into trouble of some kind, or that he had just decided to leave and not come back, but I knew better. Ten years later, he came back, and steadily rose to power. And now he is at the height of his reign, and there is seemingly nothing anybody can do." I sighed deeply and twiddled my thumbs in my lap, refusing to look at Dumbledore.

"And of course you have a plan?"

"Merely an idea. A group dedicated to bringing Tom down." I glared at him sharply.

"You can't bring him down. You would have to kill him first." Dumbledore merely stared at me, expressionless, before I realized the meaning of this. "I can't! I can't help you. Not with this. Please Pro- Albus, you must understand. Tom was everything to me when I was in school. He was my first friend, my first love…" Dumbledore looked at me pityingly.

"Come, now. You know that is not true. Tom Riddle is not capable of love or friendship. He deceived you, as he deceived everyone around him. He is manipulative and cruel and incapable of feeling altogether. The only emotions he can ever know, or will ever know, are hate, jealousy, anger, and fear. Most of all, fear. He used you, and even now, as long as you play into his hands, as long as you keep with you the image of the Tom Riddle that he wanted you to see, he continues to use you for his own purposes."

I knew in my heart that Dumbledore was right. I knew it, even as he once again patted my hand and shook his head sympathetically. I wanted so badly to help Dumbledore, to make him understand that it wasn't Tom's fault, that he couldn't help that his pitiful existence had made his outlook on life so cruel and spiteful, but I couldn't get the words out. The Tom Riddle I had known had never existed. It was only what I had wanted to believe, and had never managed to fully convince myself that it was true. It had all been a lie, and I swore then and there that I would do everything it took to bring down Tom. I wouldn't run away if things got too hard or frustrating like they did the last time.

"What will it be called?"

"The Order of the Phoenix."

"And you really think that me joining will make all the difference?" Dumbledore smiled gently at me.

"I think it will." I took a deep steadying breath, managing to choke down the tears that had been threatening to overwhelm me only seconds before. I nodded silently and Dumbledore beamed at me. "Wonderful! Now, how would you like a tour of the school? I have a student in Transfiguration that could surpass even you and Tom put together." I giggled and raised my eyebrows.

"Oh really? And this student is?"

"James Potter. Quite the brilliant young boy, although he is a bit of a trouble maker. He and that Sirius Black together have the school in absolute chaos every other day," Dumbledore said, laughing fondly. I joined him until I recognized the last name.

"Black? Hopefully not a complete git like the rest of the family." Phineas Black shot me a withering glare from his portrait and muttered something under his breath about the degradation of wizarding youth these days. Dumbledore and I both ignored him as we made our way down the stairs and past the stone gargoyles that jumped out of our way.

"Oh no. He is a rather charming young man. The first Black in generations to be sorted into Gryffindor." I smiled as students began to pour out into the hallways, giving me many curious looks as I was A) walking with Dumbledore and B) obviously of school age yet not a student. I smiled and looked up at Dumbledore.

"Well that's good. If only we could get rid of the Slytherin breed altogether." Dumbledore looked at me sharply and I rolled my eyes. "I'm sorry. But I've never known a decent Slytherin in my life. I thought I did, and then look what he turned out to be." The remark stung, even as I said it, and I pushed the disfigured face of Tom Riddle into the back of my mind, refusing to think about it.

"I do understand what you are saying. But it is in times like these that we need to unite. Prejudices must be abolished in the face of a crisis," he replied. I conceded his point and commented that the hallways were starting to thin out.

"Yes. Actually, I do know of someone who would be quite pleased to see you," he told me, leading me to a familiar corridor.

"Is the Hogwarts staff going to be the first set of recruits for your club?" I asked teasingly. He smiled but said nothing, instead leading me to Professor Slughorn's classroom. "I must speak with Professor Slughorn for but a moment." He quietly led the way inside the classroom. The first thing I saw when I walked in was the robust figure of Professor Slughorn demonstrating a correct Calming Draught.

"Now, we add only 3 drops of dragon blood. And be careful that- Mr. Longbottom I said only 3! You have obviously put in much more than is required!" he said to a panicked young man a few rows back, who promptly jumped back from his overflowing cauldron. The pretty, round faced girl next to him screamed as green sparks shot from the cauldron and two boys at the very back of the classroom began to roar in laughter. Professor Slughorn waved his wand and the became empty. Sheepishly the boy sat back down and grinned at the two boys at the back, one of whom called out, "Nice going, Frank! If you pour in the entire flask next time maybe you'd burn down the classroom and we'd get out of this class for the day." Dumbledore cleared his throat and Slughorn jumped to face him.

"Well, well, Albus. Pleasant surprise! How may I assist you today?" And then he looked at me and jumped again. "And you must be related to Ana Tchaikovsky! Goodness if I hadn't taught her myself 40 years ago…. But the resemblance is uncanny!" he exclaimed quietly. The class had now pretty much given up on trying to continue with the potion and were either fooling around or staring at me. He patted my arm. " And I am going to assume you are not a student here?" I smiled at Professor Slughorn.

"Unfortunately no. Although I do hear many good things about Hogwarts, and have heard all sorts of stories from my mother about this school. It almost makes me regret that I live in America and not here." The professor and I laughed, my forced American accent obviously fooling him. The class continued to grow louder as more people stopped paying attention to the adults and started talking to their friends.

Only two people were still doing their work. A pretty young red haired girl who looked to be in maybe her 5th and a pale greasy haired boy the same age. They were working intently on completing their assignment, every once in a while stopping to whisper something to the other and have a good laugh. I assumed most of the time they were making fun of the handsome boy in the back, who was loudly whispering, "Snivellus! Maybe Slughorn would brew you a different shampoo, since what you've got obviously isn't doing you any good." The other dark haired boy next to him had buried his face in the boy's back in an attempt to stifle his laughter. The girl urged the boy next to her to ignore him, but his tightened grip on the knife he had been using to cut up his dragon heartstrings gave away the rage that he was trying to control.

"Hey Potter! Why don't you and Black spend less time bullying Severus and more time trying to find a spell that with deflate your giant ego, you arrogant moron!" the red haired girl spat at him. Potter and the other boy, whom I assumed was Black, immediately stopped laughing. Potter opened his mouth to retort, but apparently couldn't think of anything to say, and the girl turned around and continued working before he could get the chance. The hook nosed boy next to her, Severus, blushed and gave her a grateful smile, which she returned. Potter and Black got up from their table to confer with the sandy-haired boy in front of them. I couldn't see the faces of Black or Potter, but the sandy-haired kid gave an exasperated yell and covered his face with his hands as the two boys stalked over to Severus and the red-head. Severus saw them coming and jumped up before they got too close, wand already out and pointed at them.

"Please do it. I would so love to see you try," he snarled at Black and Potter, whose hands were halfway to their pockets. Both boys glared at Severus, and Severus returned the look with one just as condescending. At that moment I wondered where Dumbledore and Slughorn were.

"What is this? Wands away! All of you! You are fifth years. I don't know how you can be prepared to take your OWLs if every time I leave the room you three start fighting. No more!" Severus looked slightly remorseful, probably more for disappointing Slughorn than actually threatening the other two boys, but he put his wand away all the same and sat down. The two boys trudged back to their seats just as Slughorn looked at his watch and sighed.

"All right everyone. Don't even bother bottling up your flasks. I doubt a single one of you has finished." The red haired girl in front raised her hand.

"Professor, Severus and I have finished," she told him. He clapped his hands together and beamed.

"Of course! Lily Evans and Severus Snape! I should have known my dynamic duo would not let me down. Yes let's see. 15 points for each of you should do it. Thank heavens for students like you," he said as Lily and Severus bottled up their potion and the rest of the class trudged out the door, the Potter boy giving Lily a last sulky glance, which she ignored. Black, however, stopped at me.

"So, I didn't think that Hogwarts lets in transfer students," he said, grinning charmingly. I tried to stifle a laugh as I thought of what the boy would do if he knew he was trying to chat up a 50 year old woman. The kid misinterpreted the smile and took it as a good sign, because he continued. "If you'd like, I could show you around. There's a nice little spot right by the lake, very private-" When I thought I would burst from not laughing, the Potter boy darted back in and grabbed his arm, hissing, "Come on, Padfoot! We'll be laet!" When he was safely out of earshot, I burst into laughter, and surprisingly so did Lily. I looked at her and she grinned.

"Sorry. I couldn't help overhearing. That entire lot is a bunch of pompous toe rags, except for Remus. He's alright, and he keeps them out of trouble for the most past. Trust me, they'd be a lot worse if it weren't for him." She extended her hand to me and smiled. "I'm Lily."

I returned her smile and shook the offered hand. "I'm A-Lana." Lily looked at me quizzically.

"Alana? That's a pretty name." I grimaced, "Er, yes, right, thanks," and she laughed. I knew right off the bat that I liked this girl. She was quite nice. "This is Severus," she said, jerking her head in the direction of the hook-nosed boy Potter and Black had been teasing. He nodded his head curtly at me and returned my hello, then walked out of the room when he got tired of waiting for Lily. After talking some more, she waved good bye and exited, probably to go find Severus. I laughed quietly, and felt a small tug at my robes. Both professors were behind me.

"Well young lady, it has been a pleasure meeting you! Do tell your mother hello for me when you see her!" Both Slughorn's smile and jovial tone seemed forced, and he looked like he rather couldn't wait until Dumbledore and I left. Quickly he ushered us out of his classroom, and with a last farewell, promptly slammed the door in our faces. Dumbledore started humming and walked away from me, and I hurried to catch up with his long strides.

"Well, he took the news rather well," I said sarcastically. Dumbledore stopped humming and chuckled.

"Yes, he was quite surprised when I told him that you were not merely a relative of Ana Tchaikovsky, but actually hid old pupil returned from America after 30 years. It seems seeing you has brought back some painful memories for him." I looked at him curiously, but he didn't elaborate, so I decided to leave it alone. I assumed, though, that it probably had to do with Tom, and changed the subject.

"So who's the new staff this year?" Dumbledore told me, and I stopped him when he told me the name of the Transfiguration teacher.

"McGonagall?" I asked, "The bossy Gryffindor a few years above me?" Dumbledore laughed, a real laugh this time, and nodded. He started to respond, but held his tongue when we heard voices approaching. I had already guessed who it was by the time they came round.

"Afternoon, Professor. Are you and our guest headed down to the Great Hall for lunch?" he asked looking rather pointedly at me. Dumbledore's beard twitched, and, out of sheer respect for the man, I resisted hexing him. The boy grinned at me, and the three boys behind him sniggered.

"Good afternoon, Sirius. I was not planning on attending lunch in the Great Hall, although if my guest is hungry you may certainly do the honor of making sure she gets sustenance," he replied amiably. His eyes twinkled and his beard was now twitching almost uncontrollably in an effort not to laugh, and everyone was looking at me so see my answer. I hadn't lost my amiable smile, but groaned inwardly.

"Give it up, Pads," Potter whispered loudly, and Sirius Black glared at him. I gave Dumbledore, who knew that I did not turn down food, ever, a look that clearly said, "I'll get you for this," and consented to having lunch at the Gryffindor table with him and his friends.

Author's note: This is not a Marauder romance, and they should be out of the picture by mid next chapter. Sorry if this was rushed, but the next chapter will be better. Remember, read and review. I'm open to constructive criticism and respond to all reviews.