A/N: This is the Seeker from Pride of Portree writing for QLFC Round 8.
Prompt: What (if anything) does the Order of the Phoenix do in response to Voldemort rising to power?
Thanks to my team for looking through it.
Word Count: 924 (+6 for the title)
Disclaimer: I have no intentions of making money from this story, so all the recognizable stuff belongs to J.K. Rowling.
The United Order of the Phoenix
Dark Marks were chiseled into the front doors of every other building. They were a clear reminder of what happened to those who opposed the power of the Dark Lord. These times were darker than those before the fall of Voldemort at the hands of a one-year-old Harry Potter.
But Harry Potter was long dead, as were his two best friends. The Order of the Phoenix had fallen. No one had returned alive from Hogwarts after May 2, 1998. Light had lost, and the darkness provided a refuge to the people who wanted to live—Muggles and Wizards alike. The Statute of Secrecy had long been broken.
Fleur was the only Weasley left alive, her pregnancy being the only reason she had not gone to Hogwarts on the Doomsday. Five months later, she had given birth to a beautiful girl christened Victoire at her parents' residence in France. She had taken a Muggle aeroplane there shortly after the final battle—travel by Floo or Portkey could be tracked far too easily, and Apparition had not been a viable option either, given her pregnancy.
But now, after recovering from the pregnancy, she was one livid woman who wanted to seek revenge for her husband's death.
She entered the dining room and found exactly who she was looking for. "Mama, I am returning to Ottery St. Catchpole tomorrow. I am taking ze first flight to London." She held her breath, steeling herself for her mother's reaction. It wasn't what she expected.
"What?" Madame Delacour asked, surprised. After Voldemort's victory, Fleur's mother had lost her fiery protectiveness; it had been replaced with a hard shell of a woman. She was always bracing herself for the loss of another child.
"Victoire should have had her papa." Fleur choked back a sob. She hadn't added on her other thought: And you shouldn't have to feel so scared all the time. Her mother patted her arm awkwardly. "Will you take care of Vici for me?"
"Of course, Fleur."
...
Fleur got down from the aeroplane and Apparated to the hill by the Burrow under a Disillusionment Charm. She descended the hill, her wand at ready, to the line of trees that surrounded the Weasleys' old home. What she saw made fresh tears spring to her eyes: the place had been burnt to the ground; even the grass in the garden had been burned black. She wondered how the trees she was hiding behind were still standing.
She turned back and decided to go to Dedalus Diggle's house, the place where Harry's Muggle relatives were staying. They were in hiding, since they were in even more danger now than they had been when their magical relative was alive. Bringing to mind the address from when they had placed the Fidelius Charm, she Apparated over to the house.
Fleur hesitated for a moment, then knocked at the door. A minute later, a tall boy with blond hair and blue eyes opened the door, his eyes widening at the sight of her. She almost groaned; now was not the time for the Veela within her to be a distraction.
"Who is it?" the voice of Diggle called from inside. "How many times have I told you not to open the door, Dudley?"
"'ello, Dedalus. I am Fleur, ze wife of ze late William Weasley. I met you at ze Burrow two days before my wedding, when you nearly dropped ze pie."
Diggle had made his way to the doorway while she was speaking. Once she was finished, he nodded and ushered her in.
"Bad times, these are," he said, tripping on the carpet. Fleur helped him up.
"Where's 'estia?" she asked, already expecting the worst.
Diggle shook his head. "She went out to get the groceries."
Fleur let out a sigh of relief. "Zat's bette—"
"She never returned."
Fleur stared at him, unshed tears forming in both pairs of eyes. Then, she stepped forward and hugged him.
"Where are ze rest of 'arry's relatives?" she asked, gesturing to Dudley.
"Who is it?" the booming voice of Vernon Dursley asked that very moment.
"I'm Fleur. 'arry was a friend, I'm sorry for 'is loss." Needless to say, Fleur was shocked when he merely grunted in reply. She turned back to Diggle. "We need to do something."
"Fleur, you, me, and Dung are the only people still alive from the Order. Anyone who protested was killed. Everyone else gave in."
Fleur turned to Vernon. "We are going to die soon if we do not act now. Can you 'elp?"
Vernon stared at her, eyebrows raised. She could tell that he would have denied her request had it not been for her Veela heritage. She smiled inwardly; it was the first time her powers had done some good.
"I can shoot a rifle," Vernon said. "And Dudley knows wrestling."
"There are thousands of them now, Fleur," Diggle said.
Fleur sighed and stared at the ceiling. "You know, Dedalus, ze main problem is zat we are not united. With ze Muggles, I mean. With Muggle 'elp, and 'elp from my country, we can do better than what we can do with ze wands."
Diggle stared at her. "M-Muggles, Fleur?"
"Why, of course? Zey are suffering, too. The Secrecy is already broken; we might as well use it for our benefit."
And there, with two people from the magical world, and three Muggles, Fleur Weasley started the United Order of the Phoenix, which slowly spread to all corners of Britain and France, to the armies and laymen alike, to fight the Dark Lord.
