The Greengrass estate were more than substantial, even by the standards of Wizarding Britain's elite. Somewhere near the back of the house, a winding stone path made its way through a beautiful garden. A plethora of different coloured flowers were grown close to the house, while larger shrubs and small but full-of-life trees were more common further down the path.
Somewhere along the path, a wooden swing was nestled in a small, shady alcove. It was an incredibly simple place, lined with vines and shrubs and small, thick trees casting shadows. It was, for lack of a better word, rather unremarkable. Yet it was one of Daphne's favourite spots in the entire estate.
It was quiet, relaxing and, best of all, basically hers. Her father and mother frequented the outdoor benches near the open fields and orchards on some other side of the house. Her sister preferred the solarium for winding down. This simple alcove was all hers.
She often came here when she needed to contemplate situations in her life. Today was one of those days.
Earlier in the day, a copy of The Daily Prophet that was lying on a table in the family room had caught her attention. Through the years, many members of the British wizarding population, her family included, had realized that The Daily Prophet was vastly sensationalist, but it was still the premier newspaper in the country. So, with great reluctance, her father subscribed to the newspaper to "view the world from the perspective of the common sheep", as he so kindly put it.
It often went ignored after her mother or father read it early in the morning, but over the summer, Daphne found she could no longer do that. Its large, aggressive news titles drew her attention, and the nature of the articles made her uneasy.
The Dark Lord had returned, and his followers were already being sighted more and more frequently. Occasional attacks peppered the summer months, but it was actually the sometimes weeks-long silence on the Dark Lord's movements only solidified the nervousness of the people.
She knew it was naïve, but when the news first came out she tried to reassure herself that the focus would be on more…controversial members of wizarding society and that her family would be relatively untouched.
Daphne held onto her beliefs, trying to convince herself. Until, of course, yesterday happened.
It was early in the evening; almost dinnertime. It was slightly cloudy, but there was still a little light left in the sky.
They were near the edge of the open fields beside the house, very close to the dense forest that lay beyond it. High up on their brooms, they flew in the gentle wind. Daphne angled her broom upwards and she climbed higher in the air for a few seconds. As she straightened out, she surveyed the scene below her.
Her sister, Astoria, her light brown hair flowing as she flew gently. Her eyes were closed peacefully, occasionally fluttering open to ensure she was on course. A pleasant smile remained fixed on her face. Daphne couldn't help but feel joy at seeing her little sister so happy.
But, as usual, her own thoughts sought to ruin her mood. Her sister, in all her innocence, had somehow found herself with a crush on Draco Malfoy. Daphne's relationship with Draco was somewhat cordial, but the mere thought of him…sullying Astoria…
She remembered, of course, how Draco had acted in their previous year at Hogwarts. His arrogance, continuing on from his childhood, only grew more aggressive with the Inquisitorial Squad. She remembered how Astoria tried to get closer to him, tried to become his friend. He remained polite to her, of course, perhaps out of respect for Daphne, but he clearly didn't care for her.
With an inevitable war now on the horizon, Daphne wondered what Draco would do next. With his father in prison after the incident at the Department of Mysteries, he would have to back up his words on his own.
She paused for a second. Indeed, Lucius Malfoy was undeniably close to You-Know-Who if he was sent on such a risky mission. Would the Dark Lord expect Draco to take up his father's duties while he was…incapacitated?
The thought of Astoria being so close to the Dark Lord nearly brought tears to her eyes. She blinked rapidly, looking back down at her sister.
She was waving at her, yelling something. Daphne descended towards her.
"Come on! We better get cleaned up before dinner." Astoria said, quieting as Daphne got closer.
"Yes, you're right." She responded, before gesturing her to go down to the ground near one of the side entrances.
Astoria had landed, and was just about to head inside when Daphne spotted something.
"Go inside; I'll be there in a minute!" She shouted, waiting for Astoria to nod and go inside before investigating.
A man was walking down the path to the main entrance, which was surrounded by tall shrubs and bushes. Father must have known, because the man was clearly allowed into the warded estate already. A visitor? At this time? Father was many things, and one of them was well-organized. As far as she knew, he didn't have any appointments today; he had told them so in the morning. And even if he had appointments that he didn't tell them about, this was not the usual time.
Keeping this in mind, Daphne gently descended to the ground behind the tall shrubs that guarded the walkway. He had approached the door and Daphne heard him knock twice once she had landed. As quietly as she could, she moved towards the front of the house and crouched near the bushes.
The door opened, and she heard her father speak.
"Ah, Mr. Nott. It has been quite a while since we've last met, hasn't it?" Atticus Greengrass asked, his tone polite.
"Indeed, Mr. Greengrass. It has been far too long."
"Please, come inside. Would you like tea?" As her father and Nott went inside, Daphne's heart pounded. What was Nott doing here?
Their families were acquainted, obviously; an old pureblood family would never have missed an opportunity to befriend well-off families such as hers. But the Nott family hadn't visited in years, and Daphne could imagine a multitude of reasons.
The Notts were old, and decidedly dark. Quite involved in politics, their stance was pureblood supremacy, but that was not what made them dark. It was their secrets, their rumoured dark artifacts and their support of the most powerful dark wizard in the known world; Lord Voldemort.
The Greengrass family was traditionalist, there was no doubt about it. But so were many families who opposed the Dark Lord; the Ogdens and the Longbottoms came to mind. Perhaps Nott had found the Greengrasses too moderate for his liking.
Nott was an intimidating man, and Daphne was sure he was one of the Dark Lord's most loyal servants. So why hadn't he been captured and sent to Azkaban with the rest of the higher ups?
She heard the door closing behind them and was jolted out of her thoughts. She would have to investigate later, once Nott had left and once her father came to dinner.
He never did. Astoria and Daphne ate in relative silence as soon as they noticed their mother. She barely spoke, her eyes focused far away, looking troubled. They had finished and Daphne and Astoria got up. As they walked towards the stairs, they saw their father closing the door behind Nott.
He sighed deeply before turning around. His face was a stoic mask, but when his eyes landed on them, he schooled his face into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Daphne noticed and narrowed her eyes, but before she could comment anything, her father scooped both of them into a hug.
"I hope both of you enjoyed dinner?" He inquired half-heartedly. They nodded into his shirt. "I'm afraid I have some work to do; good night girls." His farewell for the night was filled with conviction and displayed none of the distractedness from his first question. He pressed a kiss on both of their heads and stepped away.
Daphne watched confusedly as he quickly retreated into his study.
Her father probably went to sleep late into the night, and wasn't awake when she came down to breakfast the next morning. When he had finally come down, Daphne saw him and her mother in a fierce, whispered conversation over their very late tea. After that, she had found herself in the alcove.
What could Nott have said that affected her father so much? She sighed. Whatever it was, it most likely had something to do with the Dark Lord, and none of that bode well.
She was broken out her thoughts by a voice calling to her. She looked up and saw her mother walking towards her.
"Come, Daphne. Father has called you to his study." Amara Greengrass spoke softly. Daphne took a deep breath and mentally steadied herself.
However bad the news was, however unfortunate the situation had become, Daphne had a duty. Whatever her family required of her in these dark times, she would do it. As members of the wizarding community found themselves at increasing odds, as neighbours began to turn against each other, family was all that remained certain.
ToS
Harry trudged up the stairs with his hands in his pockets. Quietly, he made his way to his room. Dudley opened his door and stomped out, an angry expression on his face.
Oh. Simply wonderful.
Despite his diet and working out over the past year, Dudley still had a massive frame. Harry couldn't see a way to possibly slip by him in the thin hallway. Closing his eyes and sighing, he waiting for the irate Dudley to pass him.
Dudley stopped stomping and looked at him. Harry merely looked back, expecting some sort of snide comment, or maybe a shove. But nothing came.
His face was no longer contorted in rage, and he looked as if he was about to say something. After a few seconds, he closed his mouth again. Harry tilted his head questioningly.
Was Dudley feeling alright?
Dudley blinked rapidly, before shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He walked off, much more subdued than before.
Bemused, Harry continued towards his room. Throwing open the door, he quickly threw himself onto his bed with a groan of frustration. Taking his glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. He would finally get to leave 4 Privet Drive, but the thought only served to raise his spirits by the tiniest amount. Dumbledore was coming today to pick him up and he would get to go to the Burrow. Wallowing in misery with his friends sounded slightly better than doing so alone.
His summer so far had been long and dull, and it punished him in more ways than one.
When he didn't have chores to do, he had free time. And the long, searing days promised plenty of it. The more time he had to himself, with nothing to do, the more he thought.
Harry had begun to think far too much.
Remus Lupin was dead, and it was through Harry's own foolishness, his own weakness, that was the reason for it.
His mind flashed with images of their battle in the Department of Mysteries. He saw Remus trying to protect him, before falling into the veil. Harry remembered watching in horror, unmoving. Sirius' piercing cry shattering his stupor, and he remembered his body running. He remembered Bellatrix's laugh. He remembered her taunts. With an uneasy smile, he remembered her cries as he cast the Cruciatus on her.
Remus had a connection to Harry through his parents. Usually this would cause him a great deal of frustration. The idea of being a…continuation of sorts of his parents' friendships rubbed him the wrong way. It brought him back to the idea that his popularity and his relationships in the wizarding community were almost all due to something that he never consciously played a part in.
Yet with Remus, he never found this expected frustration. He was a kind man, a just man, and above all, a struggling man. Despite his personal problems, his presence was calming and his words wise. Harry, even in his third year, wished that Remus had come into his life earlier than he had. Just so that he could have spent more time to get to know such an amazing person.
He would never again get that chance.
Tears threatened to pool in his eyes, and he blinked them away rapidly before rubbing his eyes. Standing up abruptly, he realized he needed to stop this. Everyday, this same cycle of thoughts ran through his head, with the exact same result. He moved mindlessly to his desk
His brain, desperately tried to rationalize what was going on, tried to calm him down.
At least it wasn't Sirius who died that night.
He stumbled back in shock. Where the hell had that come from?
Disgusted with his own thoughts, he very nearly slapped himself a couple of times. He needed something, anything, to get his mind off of the topic.
The school year, perhaps? Yes, of course! The school year. Harry was so excited, he was so excited, he was so excited…
A mirthless laugh escaped his mouth. As if. The weight of the world seemed to have been placed on his shoulder, and half of Wizarding Britain probably thought he was the Chosen One already. He didn't want to be chosen. He didn't want any of this.
I don't have a choice. He thought bitterly. He had tried to escape the thoughts over the summer; he spent time hanging out in the neighbourhood, trying to make new muggle friends. It helped a little, but he was finally reaching some sort of agreement in his head. Just temporary of course, he could never truly accept what he was supposedly destined to do. In the grand scheme of things, he felt hopeless and lost.
But there had to be something he could do.
He had already lost Remus, in part due to his weakness. He had to be faster. He had to be stronger. He had to better.
As those phrases repeated in his mind, a strange resolve began to take over. There wasn't much he could do just yet, but he sighed and decided to do what he could. With his mouth set in a grim smile, he sat down at his table and took out some books. If he wanted to be strong enough to defend those he loved and to defeat Voldemort, learning more magic was not a bad place to start.
Harry stood on a small, forested hill overlooking the Burrow, with Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder. His mind was still spinning; partly due to the apparition, but mostly due to the fact that Dumbledore would be teaching him privately.
"Let us not keep Mrs. Weasley waiting any longer." Dumbledore said, and he began walking down a small, winding dirt path that twisted and turned to make its way down the hill. Harry followed, surprised at Dumbledore's pace.
They reached the back door, near the kitchen, and Dumbledore knocked.
Some shuffling movement was heard as a shadow made its way near the door.
"Who's there?" Mrs. Weasley asked nervously.
"Dumbledore, and I have Harry with me."
The door opened and Mrs. Weasley looked at them, beaming.
"Harry! How wonderful to see you again! Albus, I thought you said you wouldn't be here before morning?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"Our discussion with Slughorn took far less time than I expected." Dumbledore said, nudging Harry to head inside.
"Of course, splendid!" Mrs. Weasley said distractedly as she fussed over Harry.
"Unfortunately, I must be off. I have some important matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour." Dumbledore announced. "I will be sure to come by in the next few days, Molly. Harry, take care."
With that, he bowed to Mrs. Weasley, waved to Harry and then walked a few metres. Another wave later, he had Apparated away.
One midnight onion soup and a lot of fussing later, Harry headed upstairs, changed into his pajamas, and promptly fell asleep in a happier mood than he had awoken earlier that day.
He awoke to the sound of the door slamming open and shuffling footsteps. His eyes fluttered open, but he immediately shut them in protest. The morning's light was golden and unflinching, and he just wasn't ready for that yet.
"Harry!" Ron Weasley's voice boomed as a shadow blocked out the sunlight from the window. Finally, Harry could open his eyes. Ron's grinning face stood over him, his red hair falling down his forehead.
"Hey Ron." Harry said as enthusiastically as he could in his still half-asleep state. Hermione stood behind Ron, a big smile on her face.
"How's it going?" He continued.
"Pretty good!" Ron responded. "What about you? I hope the Muggles weren't too bad?"
"Yeah, yeah. They were alright." Harry said, before pausing. "Actually, they were a lot better than usual this summer. Dudley didn't throw a tantrum about me even once." Ron's eyes widened. "Pretty weird, huh?" Harry grinned.
Hermione moved closer and peered at him curiously. Harry knew the reason, but he didn't press the subject because the topic of Remus probably wasn't the best to start the day. "Alright, Hermione?" Harry asked.
Hermione blinked. "Oh, I'm fine. It's just great to be here, you know!"
Ginny came in the room just then. "Hey Harry!" She exclaimed, leaning on the doorframe.
Harry smiled at her. "How's it going, Ginny?"
She scowled for a brief second. "Alright, I suppose. But she's here, and I can't stand it!"
Harry continued looking at Ginny. She looked frustrated about something, but appeared to be relatively at ease. As far as he knew, she had gotten over her childhood crush and could now hang around Harry like a normal person. Harry hoped it would stay this way; Ginny was a rather fun friend to be around.
After getting filled in as to who she was talking about, Harry caught up with Fleur Delacour briefly, much to the disappointment of Hermione and Ginny, before they all headed down to breakfast. OWLs results were supposed to come back, much to Hermione's fright, and they never got to finish their small talk by Harry's bedside.
And so began a relaxing week at the Burrow, in what was probably the best possible way he could've ended the summer.
It was great spending time with his friends. He had something to take his mind off of the painful thoughts he had been going through at the Dursleys, and it felt as if a weight had been slightly lifted from his chest. In between spending time with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, he also tried to spend some time with Fleur as well. She was delighted, of course; they had gone through a lot together after all, and she was more than willing to become friends again.
Hermione and Ron were, frankly, getting on his nerves. Not either one of them individually, but rather the two of them together. They would be acting normally, perhaps even closer then previous years, before some ridiculous argument erupted and they fumed at each other for the next few hours. Often times the arguments would stem from something as stupid as the topic of Fleur. Merely her existence seemed to bother Hermione and Ginny, and Ron still defended her. Harry hoped that Ron's defence of Fleur was out of goodwill, but Harry knew well how Ron got when he was around the quarter-Veela.
Of course, another such argument had happened, so Harry escaped the room and was just about to head downstairs when he heard voices. They seemed to be coming from the living room, so he crept halfway down the stairs.
He could hear Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley talking, but they didn't seem to be trying to hide their conversation; perhaps they expected all the children to be on the fifth floor in Ron's room.
"Indeed, it would seem as if the Ministry has no choice now but to acknowledge there is a yet unknown force at odds with them!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed.
Dumbledore sighed. "If only, Arthur, if only. I'm sure there are some, high up in the Ministry, who suspect that we could have been the ones behind the attack."
"Us!?" another voice exclaimed. Sirius! Harry was shocked. When had all of them even come to the Burrow? They must have just arrived, because Harry hadn't heard anything until now. He would have to wait until after their discussion to see Sirius again, but knowing he was already here made waiting quite difficult.
He had hoped to see Sirius sooner, but Mrs. Weasley had told him about some issues about Grimmauld Place. It had been used as the headquarters for the Order last year, but Dumbledore had found dark artifacts and dark magic permeating the house, and Dumbledore didn't want the children staying in such a dangerous location. The Weasleys offered the Burrow as a temporary headquarters for the Order until a more suitable location could be found, but Sirius, for whatever reason, wanted to stay in Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer.
Harry could definitely understand. He knew firsthand the painful memories of Remus that he relived over the summer, and he was sure it would be much, much worse for Sirius. They were close friends for so many years, and Sirius found himself as the last Marauder now. He wanted to be alone, even if it wasn't what he needed. Harry had asked Dumbledore, of course, to visit Grimmauld Place, but he had insisted that it was unsafe for the time being.
"Scrimgeour and I met a few days ago," Dumbledore spoke after a short silence. "It would seem that he is steadfast in fighting the Death Eaters, but he announced that the public would have to understand that the Ministry had it under control."
"Pathetic." Sirius growled.
"Another Ministry propaganda campaign, I suppose?" Mr. Weasley asked rhetorically.
"As much as I would like to fight with Scrimgeour on this, I believe that his words hold some truth to them." Dumbledore said. "He never approved much of me, but deep down, both he and I understand that we need each other as allies in these difficult times."
"What are the details of the attack, Albus?" Sirius asked tiredly. "I haven't heard anything until now."
"There is an office in Diagon Alley, a foreign law firm I believe; quite well known in their field. There were two Ministry officials there, for reasons that I'm not quite sure myself." Dumbledore began. "I don't know what they had gotten into, or why they were targeted, but reports say a man wearing a mask and purple robes stormed in. His regalia was marked with something that looked like a bird. He cast a non-verbal spell, and of the three other people in the room, two were able to get shields up in time. The third…did not have such luck. There was an explosion; the masked man escaped within seconds. By the time the guards arrived, one of the Ministry officials was dead."
There was a long pause.
"Who…?" someone whispered, but Harry paid them no heed. He quietly sped back up the stairs and pressed himself against the wall, his thoughts racing. Something in Dumbledore's report sounded remarkably familiar…
Harry's shoulder crashed into the wall as he turned the corner.
"Watch where you're going, Dudley!" he hissed, his right hand massaging his left shoulder. Dudley didn't respond, his face deathly pale. His cousin had stopped running but made no move to help Harry in his state. Groaning, Harry pushed himself to his feet and his eyes wandered around their surroundings.
They were at the entrance of an underpass just at the edge of one of the trails in the park. He quickly glanced behind him but there was no sign of the dementors yet. There was no time to wonder about why there were dementors in Little Whinging right now, and Harry forced his mind away from the idea.
The sudden darkness that had taken over just minutes prior was permeated by the lights in the underpass, but the terrible chill that had descended with the dementors was coming back.
The wind was pick up again. "Come on!" Harry shouted. "We have to go NOW!"
Dudley was jolted back into motion when he said this and both of them started to run, going farther into the underpass. His cousin was breathing heavily beside him; but whether it was from pure fear or the running, Harry wasn't sure. His own heart was beginning to calm down, for the chill had decreased.
Perhaps the fact that two dementors left Azkaban was noticed and they were called back. He thought, as relieved as he could be with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Whatever had happened, it didn't matter…unless they came back, of course. Harry exhaled a deep breath he didn't know he was holding. Now all he had to do was to get back to the Dursley's house without arousing any suspicion.
In the next second, those hopes were dashed. A gust of biting wind flooded into the pass, slamming into them and pushing them back. Harry staggered against the wind and looked over to see that Dudley had stuck his hand into a small crack in the wall to remain on his feet. His ears stung and his hands had begun to shake, but the wind kept coming.
And then followed the dementors. A horrifying cry, somehow deafening and like a whisper at the same time, echoed through the halls as they entered. He heard the screams in his head as he staggered backwards blindly, trying to grasp his wand.
The ghastly hand of the dementor closed around his throat, lifting him up. Harry struggled against its grip, but it was no use. With another cry, he was flung towards the wall. Still upright, his back collided painfully against the side of the pass and before he could even think again the dementor had glided towards him and locked him another strangling hold.
As he was forced to look into the dementor's hood, he saw its face. Under the black hood, its face seemed to alternate from the void itself to a horrid skull, shifting in ways bones should never be able to do. It dipped its hood and began to move closer to his face.
This was it. It was over, and he would never again see those close to him ever again. Ron. Hermione. Sirius. His eyes began to flutter as the screaming in his head became overwhelming and the Dementor began its kiss…
A brilliant light burst forth from the opening of the underpass. A large mass of glowing feathers and wings shot into the dementor, digging its talons into the dementor's body. It fled desperately at the sight of the patronus, the black, tattered robes flying wildly in its haste. The second dementor caught sight of the ethereal light and immediately let go of Dudley, flying out of the underpass as quickly as they could.
Harry fell onto the ground hard once the dementor released its stranglehold on him, but he had never felt so glad in his life. He looked at Dudley, who had curled up in a ball and was muttering incomprehensible whimpers.
His relief disappeared just as quickly as it had come. Harry hadn't cast his patronus, and Dudley was just a muggle…so who did?
His head whipped around fast, and he saw a witch, their face obscured by a mask. She wore long, purple robes, with what appeared to be a sparrow emblazoned on her breast. Her wand was still out, and Harry's eyes immediately went wide. He spotted his own a few feet to the right of him, and he quickly rolled to grab it and stood up shakily.
"Do not worry, my friend. I mean you no harm." she spoke gently, as if speaking to a small child.
Trying to stand as upright and steadily as possible, he boldly called out. "Who are you and what do you want?"
"Harry Potter," he could hear her predatory smile from her tone. "You have a larger role to play than you believe."
He blinked, vastly confused. "Er..what?"
"I will be completely honest with you, Mr. Potter. I saved you from a fate worse than death," she began solemnly. "Because I believe that we have common enemies and common goals. But above all, I saved you because you are important. You are important to our world and you are important to our cause."
Harry grew even more confused, and slightly more scared. "What are you talking about?"
She bowed her head and continued. "You came into the wizarding world on your eleventh birthday, with an open mind and a fresh perspective. But when you arrived, you saw it for what it truly is. A backward, prejudiced hellhole."
Harry stood still, his mind racing.
"There are many of us, Mr. Potter. People like you. People who have seen the injustices in our world and have lost all hope. In the end, we saw the truth. This world needs to be fixed, and standing by, twiddling our thumbs, will not help accomplish that."
Harry could barely think of anything to say as he involuntarily thought back to his experiences with wizarding Britain and its society. "The wizarding world, no matter what you think of it, has been more of a home to me than the muggle world has ever been." he spat bitterly.
"Perhaps, Mr. Potter. Perhaps. But in the end, you will open your eyes to what is truly happening. I want you to think for a moment. I'm sure you've already wondered why dementors came to Little Whinging. Remember who controls the dementors, Mr. Potter; it is the Ministry." she reminded him. "The oligarchs in the elite of our society will become restless with time, and don't even think for a moment that they won't turn against you next."
She turned around and began walking away suddenly. After walking a few metres, she turned around on the spot.
"Think about what I have said, Mr. Potter. For one day, when all hope is lost, you will always be welcome to join us and salvage what remains of this decadent world."
With that, she Apparated away, leaving a stunned Harry Potter in her wake.
His mind made the connection as he thought back to the summer before fifth year. The words his saviour had spoken had stuck with him ever since, nestling in some part of his mind and urging him to act on them. He quelled the thoughts by convincing himself that she couldn't have told him the full story, but he couldn't ignore the words, or the warning, any longer. Whoever she worked for, they were growing in strength, and were now bold enough to attack Ministry officials.
The Death Eaters were on their doorstep, and now a new group had announced their presence. Wizarding Britain was in for one of the greatest battles of its time, and Harry Potter was sure he would be on the frontlines.
The future looked bleak, and a long night seemed to be descending on the wizarding world.
AN: There were some canon scenes in this chapter that I tried to gloss over as much as possible without breaking the flow because, well, no one wants to read the same things over again.
Also a note regarding formatting in the story: I intend to use single line-breaks to discern between two events that remain with the same POV character. Meanwhile, two line-breaks divided by a "ToS" (the name of the story) will show when the POV changes.