Nico had the awful feeling that his acquaintance with Cedric was going to result in a lot of hugs from the older boy. It was the last random thought that popped into his head as he stood forward to face the Order. Cedric and Harry remained at his back as though to either back him up or pull him with them in a retreat. He almost smiled a little in memory of the graveyard, where they had orchestrated their escape via portkey to include him, and he recognised that either way they would not leave him out to dry.

Not that he needed that kind of support here. After all, traipsing into a semi-secret organisation's hidden lair unexpectedly had nothing on being the first Greek to walk into a Roman camp in years, nor on his admittedly less than cleverly conceived plan to frisk the edges of Tartarus and, hey, he'd survived both of those-

(Did you?)

-although the sentiment was appreciated. A year ago, he would have recoiled from the prospect, but his relationships with Reyna, Jason, Will and even Coach Hedge had opened him up to accepting assistance from others. Most of the time.

…Some of the time. (He was working on it.)

"How could they possibly have found their way here without some form of Dark magic we have no knowledge of!?" The yelling hadn't yet quelled since he and Harry had walked into the room.

"Di Angelo has already proved that the transportation wards at the castle impose no barrier to him," Snape replied firmly, as if in agreeance with the first statement made by who Nico recognised to be Mad-Eye Moody.

His electric-blue eye had been trained on him the moment he stepped into the room, but at Snape's seeming confirmation of his suspicions his regular eye flashed and there was soon a threatening wand being aimed at him.

"Uh, Moody, do you maybe want to not start a stand-off with some kid with unknown origins to match his unknown powers in the middle of my dining room?" Black queried and Nico wondered again at both his story and what exactly his connection was to the house, other than being its seemingly-reluctant owner. "I mean, if you do break out in a fight, could you at least try and destroy anything that would have appealed to my family?"

A plump, red-headed woman yelled in outrage, "Alastor! He's only a boy! Put your wand down!"

"He could very well be a spy, Molly! And the fact that he was able to get in already proves that he's a security risk!"

"I think, Alastor, that we may have a better chance at assuaging all our fears if we have this discussion without weapons," the old, powerful voice gently shut down anyone else before they could speak, and Nico recognised the Headmaster from two weeks ago, Albus Dumbledore, who'd been making a lot of headlines lately in what he could tell was a smear campaign, and who was supposedly the leader of the Order. The way everyone stopped and looked to him as he spoke just about confirmed those rumours.

"To be fair, this is pretty much the closest thing I've encountered to reasonable caution since showing up, unannounced, in the headquarters of your secret vigilante organisation," Nico deadpanned, to the various reactions of surprise, amusement and embarrassment held by those around the long table. Nico looked straight at Harry, "To be completely honest, I was not expecting a 'can-do' attitude to get us this far. I was completely winging this whole thing and it worked way too well."

There. That seemed to have sufficiently bewildered and unbalanced mostly everyone at the table, and it was fascinating to watch Moody try and decide whether he was pleased or even more suspicious that he had commented on their lack of aggressive security. From the way Black, Lupin and McGonagall were watching the grizzled mage, it appeared as though they agreed with his assessment of the entertainment value.

Finally, Dumbledore, who had also paused in apparent surprise at his unexpected remark, tried once again to defuse the situation.

"Be that as it may," the piercing blue eyes that passed over Nico held a curious twinkle, "I believe that this conversation has been a while in the making and will be significantly more productive and enlightening with the absence of threats." He then stared, long and hard, at Moody until the other mage finally relented, grumbling harshly as he slowly lowered his wand. Dumbledore did an admirable job of ignoring the vicious glare that was sent his way by his agent (just as Nico resolved to ignore the suspicious squint he received), and as soon as the wand was out of sight the old mage gave a happy smile. "Wonderful," he gave a twinkling glance at Nico, Cedric and Harry, "now, if you three would take a seat, there is a lot I believe should be discussed, and quite a few concerns to be allayed."

Nico took a half-second to observe the layout in front of him. The Order was arranged around one of the far ends of a pretentiously long dining table that filled a lot of the room and was perpendicular to the entryway that they had just entered. He threw another glance back at Harry and Cedric and noted that the former seemed quite bemused by his first glimpse of the dynamics of the Order, while the latter was looking at him as though wondering what was about to happen. Turning back to the table, Nico met Dumbledore's eyes and gave the slightest inclination of his head to show his acceptance of the offer, before proceeding to walk over to the table.

To be entirely honest, Nico just wanted to see how the adults before him would react to a bit of basic unorthodoxy, so instead of claiming a seat Nico leapt onto the table, pausing only to nudge the salt and pepper shakers out of the way, and sat cross-legged, facing everyone with a height advantage, if nothing else. He left about a half-metre's distance between himself and the nearest occupied seat, which was taken by Snape, who looked like Nico had just drowned his pet plant in front of him.

In the moment of incredulous silence that followed, Nico glanced back at the boys, shrugging at their looks before they decided to follow him over and take the seats next to Tonks. He then returned his attention to the Order, taking a moment to absorb the general appalled/shocked gaping that his move had elicited, although Black provided a splitting grin that told Nico he both knew and approved of his reasons behind the motion.

Dumbledore was seated clearly at the end of the table and now opposite himself, to his right there was a blond man Nico didn't know, Moody, a red-headed pair, and a tall man in the detective – Auror – robes that Nico thought he might've seen around the Ministry once. Next to him sat Snape, who he guessed had chosen the seat to be as far away from Black and Lupin as possible. The left-hand set of Dumbledore's agents were made up of McGonagall, sitting primly beside the old man, Lupin, Black – who had grabbed Cedric's rogue chair and turned it around so he was sitting on it backwards – and Tonks. Beside her were Cedric and Harry.

Only just over half the seats at the table had been filled and Nico wondered how many people were absent from the meeting.

"My name is Nico di Angelo, and basically my deal is that, while chilling in a graveyard, I somehow got roped into preventing a resurrection-slash-assassination plot, which, clearly, was only semi-successful, since I am standing in your secret hideout. So, I'm here to help with bringing down the off-brand Hitler and his cult following of knock-off Nazis."

To their credit, the only people who were left stunned and blinking at the introduction and its attachment were the ones who hadn't heard similar stuff from him before, with the exception of Black, who just barked out a series of laughs, and Lupin, who seemed to be adapting rather quickly to Nico and tried to disguise his own laugh as a cough, but everyone who looked – which was limited to just Nico, really – could see the smile curling out behind his fist.

Dumbledore gave a slight pause – to give those inexperienced the time to recover – before trying to speak.

"I am glad to see you again, Mr. di Angelo, and I must say that your appearance here with Harry is quite as unexpected as your arrival at Hogwarts."

Nico shrugged at the light examination, "At least I'm not getting predictable."

There was an uptick of the old mage's lips at that, almost imperceptibly so, "No, I must say you aren't. However, I do believe there is a lot we need to discuss, and a number of answers that we need you to provide."

Dumbledore paused here, as though waiting for a sarcastic bite in avoidance, or a reluctant agreeance, but since that was part of the reason he'd shown up that day, Nico just quirked a brow and dipped his head.

"Now that we've finally got that sorted," Moody's voice cut through, his mismatched eyes fixed on Nico in a glare, "how about we start with how you managed to find this place, and how you broke through the Hogwarts wards?"

Dumbledore shot his man a disapproving look for the snarled interjection, but apparently realised that the retired Auror would only keep returning to that point if it wasn't addressed soon. Snape's dark eyes were set on him intently and Nico remembered Black's words about the professor sending himself half-mad trying to discover how he had transported himself out of Hogwarts. They were fair questions, too, considering the anti-apparition wards could one day be the only thing standing between Hogwarts and an attack.

"It's called Shadow Travel."

There was a multitude of blinks around the table at the entirely unfamiliar name. There also appeared to be a few wary looks.

"It does what the name suggests; allowing me to transport myself from one shadow to another."

Dumbledore looked extremely curious, "I've never heard of such an ability."

Nico looked at him, "It's not exactly common, but I've always had an affinity for shadows and darkness. You could say that it's my domain."

(But not always)

The unease that his first mentions of shadows had generated seemed to grow further on a few faces at that statement. A chance glance at Cedric showed the older boy staring at him in stressed incredulity. Harry was looking at Cedric in concern.

"You're umbrakinetic?" The question was asked, slow and cautious, by the tall Auror whose face, to his credit, gave nothing away about his thoughts on the possibility. Cedric made a tiny noise like he was dying that had Black raise an eyebrow.

"Yep." The answer had a lot of exchanging glances being thrown and more than a few at the table appeared to be quite uncomfortable with the revelation. A tiny thunk alerted him to Cedric's head meeting the table.

"Huh. That explains why Diggory over there was so cagey about the details of your escape from the Death Eaters."

Everyone turned to look at said Diggory.

"Ugh." His head didn't raise form the table.

"Oh. Sorry, Cedric," Nico apologised, realising that the older boy had likely spent the better part of his acquaintance with the Order trying to protect the nature of Nico's powers from them. It was rather heart-warming, actually, even if it hadn't been necessary.

Everyone turned back to him.

"That's Dark magic," The red-headed man stated, apparently unsure about how he felt about that.

Nico stared at him, "Well, yeah. Shadows are literally just patches of darkness."

For some reason that seemed to take everyone aback, as though they hadn't expected such an obvious, factual answer.

"How did you come to learn this ability?" Dumbledore questioned. "I know of no schools that allow their students to learn such branches of magic."

"It's genetic. Don't worry about the wards. The only other people that I know can shadow travel – and I know a lot about the subject – are… well, if you somehow manage to make an enemy out of them, then you'll have bigger problems to piss yourself over than that."

…Ok, to be fair, that had sounded a lot better in his head.

While half the table stared at him in incredulous horror, the others appeared to break out in furious whispers. Molly, the red-headed woman, was almost as easy to pick out as Moody.

"He's just admitted to being practiced in Dark magic! And it sounds like he's just a novice! What if You-Know-Who tries to recruit the others he just mentioned!? He's just a child, but already he can do things we have no idea was possible!"

"Molly's right, Albus. I see we bring him down and interrogate him with veritaserum!"

"I appreciate your concerns, Molly, Alastor, however I do not believe it is wise to jump to conclusions. Nico di Angelo is here of his own free will, after all. I don't know how he found us, or what the full extent of his capabilities is, but I do not believe him to be an enemy at this time. It would be best, I feel, to finish our conversation before forming judgements."

And then there was Cedric bemoaning to Harry while Nico pretended he couldn't hear.

"I cannot believe he just told Headmaster Dumbledore, half our professors, Mad-Eye Moody and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix that he's umbrakinetic. I managed to hide that for weeks, panicking that someone would see through my story, and he just up and tells them!"

"What's wrong with umbrakinesis?"

There was a sigh, "It's… well, it's Dark magic…"

"But-"

The sound of a very distinctive throat clearing had everyone shut up and turn to Professor McGonagall – half of those present as though it was an ingrained reaction.

"If we are all quite done, I believe that chattering in our own corners is counter-productive to the purpose of this meeting?" The Scottish brogue bordered on the edge of legendary in terms of effectively communicating contempt.

"Minerva is, as ever, correct," Dumbledore responded, and really, thank her for that. Then the old man sighed. "With that said, however-"

"He's a Dark wizard, Albus!" Moody burst through Dumbledore's calm tones.

The red-headed man nodded in agreement, "I have to agree; we all know what Dark magic is capable of – the damage it can do. It's too dangerous to trust a wizard who dabbles in such arts."

Nico, who had found that watching the back-and-forth between the more conservative of Dumbledore's agents swiftly lost its entertainment value when they simply repeated the same points, sighed deeply and rested his cheek on a fist. He put on a show of lazy boredom and decided to move the topic along a little.

"You! Ginger dude! Tell me, why are you a mage?"

The ginger dude in question appeared quite startled at being addressed directly and he floundered for a moment before recovering.

"What do you mean?" The question was tinged with a wariness, but nothing as paranoid as the likes of Moody.

"What makes you a mage? What makes anyone magical?"

It was obvious that he was confused, and a glance around the table showed that many were equally unsure at what point Nico was trying to make. To the man's credit, however, he answered the question. "It… We're born with it."

"Ok, so you and your community are all born with a connection to magic; it's not something you have a say in or that you can control?"

There were more than a few frowns around the table now, but when Nico's eyes slid over Dumbledore, he caught something like pleased interest in his blue eyes that led him to believe that the old headmaster had a good idea of where he was going. He felt his lips twist slightly in acknowledgement that he was fairly certain was caught.

"Why did normal people hate mages in the Middle Ages? Or even now, in the much rarer occasions when their discovery goes poorly?"

The sudden change of topic was jarring to most of the mages before him, but Nico wasn't surprised by that.

"Because they're scared," every head swivelled to Tonks, who only blushed a little at the sudden attention. "Or they're resentful, or jealous. There can be any number of reasons, but a lot of the time it comes down to that, or fear of things they don't understand."

"Amen to that," Black interjected. "I've never met a species, magical or otherwise, that didn't fear the unknown to some extent. I'd even say it's instinctual on some level, and what are our instinctual responses to fear?"

"Flight or fight," Lupin finished, almost automatically.

Nico smirked, "Do you think fight, or rather exterminate, was a justified response by the people who decided to murder magi based only on fear of what they are?"

There was silence this time.

"Something they had no more choice in than you did? Unless any of you were able to consciously genetically modify yourself at your conception, in which case please speak up now." He waited a beat before continuing, "I didn't get to pick my genetic abilities either, for the record. I control shadows because I can – because it's a power that I was born with, same as you cast magic because it's an ability you were born with. And if you're sitting in this particular meeting, I highly doubt you believe in judging your own kind based on whether or not they have magic, but rather on what they use it for.

"In other words," and here Nico made direct eye contact with the red-headed man, "form your opinion not on what I am, but what I do. Because I am sick and tired of swimming against the current of other people's issues."

There was no intensity behind the words – not like there would have been just a few months ago, before he had realised that Will, Reyna and Coach Hedge, Jason and Percy and Annabeth and many others from both camps could accept him. Before he realised that he could accept himself, for his parentage and abilities at the very least. So, when he spoke, it didn't sound like he was chafing against an injustice. Just that he was speaking a truth. Even so, the silence from before was maintained for a full few seconds, probably due to the processing of his words.

"Well, that sounds fair enough," Black shattered the heavy mood, seemingly completely unaware of it. Nico figured that that particular mage was probably more impressed by the way that Nico had delivered his point, rather than the point itself. In fact, he thought that Lupin and Cedric were in similar boats to him.

"I have to agree there," Lupin stated, looking pointedly at all sitting at the table. Nico supposed he was reminding everyone of his condition, which was a pretty effective display of their judgement of him for who and not what he was. It at least seemed to sway Tonks and a few of the others, while McGonagall, the Auror and the blond man all looked thoughtful. The red-headed man was looking at Nico with a strange expression that he guessed was the result of him testing Nico's words against everything he had believed to be true about Dark magic in the past. Fair enough.

"Speaking of your actions," Dumbledore snapped up everyone's attention once more, "you saved young Harry and Cedric, by their account, from Voldemort and his followers, then again from Crouch Jr. You have certainly done us a great service with these actions, but what you have yet to reveal is why. Why you got involved in the first place. Furthermore, there is the question of what you have been doing in the weeks since Voldemort's rise, and the reason behind your bringing Harry to us."

"And how he not only knew of us, but managed to show up on the doorstep of our headquarters – a location that is protected by the Fidelius that you are the Secret Keeper for," there was a barely restrained venom in Snape's addition. He sounded really salty about that.

Dumbledore nodded his head graciously, "Ah, that too is a compelling query."

Well thank the gods we're finally getting somewhere! Sort of.

Nico brought his head off his fist, surveyed the table once, and began to speak.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Sirius was having a truly spectacular day.

Ok, sure, maybe it hadn't started great, what with his attempts at maintaining a cheerful spirit slowly but surely succumbing to the terrible, oppressive, evil weight of his family's house.

(Honestly, sometimes he wondered if he wasn't mad. If he wasn't still in Azkaban, and everything he was experiencing was just the memories of his deranged past coupled with his own delusions. It wouldn't really surprise him, truth be told.)

Even Moony's presence hadn't been enough to dispel the sickness of his past, surrounding him, choking him, but he tried to stay aware. He knew his last remaining best friend felt unfair guilt for what had happened to him, and he was doing his best to not allow it to worsen with his obvious damage.

He couldn't always help it – especially not here – but when he slipped up, he always blamed it on his memories of his family. He knew it didn't always work; that Remus knew that half the times he was lost in his head it was due to his past in Azkaban and the things the dementors and his own solitude had inflicted on his mind.

A part of him – that he tried not to acknowledge – was worried, frightened, that one day Remus, who was not bound to this… hellish site as he was, would leave and only return when he had to for Order business. It wasn't that he thought that his friend would decide that his problems were too much of a burden for him to handle and abandon him; he knew he'd never do that. But he was scared of the possibility that if he didn't manage to pull himself together when the other Marauder was around, then Moony's self-inflicted guilt would lead to the man convincing himself that Sirius would be better off with him around less.

It was a small fear – one he didn't really think Moony would ever enact – but it was enough to spur him to at least try and stay afloat in the sea of Dark madness and hatred that his 'home' never failed to flood him with. He couldn't really explain it. The others, he knew, were uneased about the creepiness of Grimmauld Place, but they all put it down to disturbing décor and knowledge of what it all stood for. He was also aware that they blamed his own hatred of the house on years of trauma and abuse taking place there. They weren't wrong, exactly, but they also weren't entirely right.

He could feel the malice embedded in the walls, dripping from the ceilings and infecting every artefact of his family's. When he told them that the house was evil, he wasn't just referring to his memories or the atrociousness of the décor. Of course, no one ever quite seemed to take him seriously or understand what he meant on that account. He didn't really blame them – they all saw a traumatised madman whose years in Azkaban were unlikely to have lessened said madness, which was possibly inherited from his pure-blooded, inbred family of psychotic murderers, whose home he had been forced to return to, heedless of the years of trauma that had taken place there for him – but it didn't do much to make him feel less isolated.

So really, he didn't see much difference between being trapped in his childhood home and being a prisoner of Azkaban. He was about as useful in both locations, too.

And wasn't that a good explanation for his near-constant depression?

But when he looked up from his sprawled wallowing upon the kitchen bench to see Harry, his dearest godson, Sirius' mood turned around fast. Harry - the son of James and Lily, the little baby that had grown into a boy who was strong and kind, the embodiment of the best parts of his parents but with something precious that was all his own – was the most important thing in the world, not that there was a whole lot of it left for Sirius.

Seeing the boy that he had loved from the moment James had told him of Lily's pregnancy had drawn him out of the torments of his own mind. Then, of course, his day had got even better. Nico di Angelo was something else; something he had never quite seen before, but that he had recognised instantly. There was suffering, blame and madness in those dark, dark eyes. It was like gazing into an interactive mirror. What was more was that he found the same recognition there as well.

He might have pitied him – having the same look in his eyes as he… Sirius wouldn't wish that on any kid. But then, he'd been that kid once. And he was revolted at anyone's pity for his life. Yeah, it was shit, but it was still his and nothing was going to change that through pity.

So he went with it. Di Angelo was a snarky, quick thing, with a witty attitude and devil-may-care countenance that spoke of more experience than anyone so young should have. Plus, he completely managed to mess with Snape, so that was another point in his favour. It might've been disturbing to see similar ghosts and masks on the face of a kid, but the familiarity of it all ended up winning out.

And in the end, he wasn't even that surprised by the revelation that the kid was an umbrakinetic. He'd known Cedric had been hiding something whenever he was asked to retell all his information on the events of the Third Task. It was like looking at himself and the other Marauders when they were in school and asked about Remus' frequent absences and apparent illnesses, except a lot more obvious.

Sirius had a lot of experience with a lot of areas of magic, what with his upbringing, his inventive years at school, and then fighting a war. He'd been exposed to more than his fair share of Dark curses; whether he cast them, or they were used on him. He knew he had quite a lot of controversial opinions about the limits the Order placed on themselves about what they could cast, though he never did much more than hint at them (the first time because he knew everyone was already suspicious of his last name and this time because everyone already thought he was a crackpot), and he honestly didn't begrudge the kid's umbrakinetics. He was good enough with them that he managed to beat out fully trained, murderous Dark wizards, so why not use them? He'd saved his godson after all, as well as Cedric – who he'd grown quite fond of.

He knew that the Order would have objections to the use of Dark magic, and he understood why. Propaganda and instilled family values did a hell of a job at combatting logic, and the simple fact of the matter was that just as most of the Dark families taught their children that the Light was weak and that muggles carried a taint, the majority of the people in the Order had spent their lives being taught by their parents, their professors, their government, their books, that Dark magic was evil and corrupting.

Power was corrupting. That was the real conspiracy – whether it was political, personal, magical, financial or whatever else, power corrupted easier than anything. The reason that power in the form of Dark magic was so vilified – aside from the whole theme of light-vs-dark being so well inserted into nearly every society - was because it wasn't understood. Just as how not everyone was born with magic, not everyone could effectively cast Dark magic, whether they found the studies too gruelling and demanding, or their cores just not suited to it.

He found it ironic that he, the more-than-likely madman, was the only one to see so clearly through the bullshit of the 'generally accepted opinions' held by both sides of the fence. (It was one of the reasons he was able to get on so well with James – even as a kid, James had more of an open mind about magic, if not society.) But maybe he really was just crazy.

"Ah, that too is a compelling query," Dumbledore added after Snape's comment. Sirius watched as the di Angelo enigma pulled his head away from where it had been lazily resting on his fist, giving another glance around the table at each of the Order members assembled.

"It's not that hard to pin down the 'whys' behind my interference in Magical England," di Angelo was calm, his charming sarcasm now gone as though rewarding the more resistant members of the Order for moving on from the shadow thing. Sirius thought it was quite effective, the tonal change from irreverent to serious distracting the previously fuming agents. "Deciding to save the lives of two teenage boys from a being that was choking the air around him with an aura of foulness was hardly difficult. I happened to be there, so I helped."

Mad-Eye scoffed a little, "As simple as that, is it?"

Di Angelo looked at him and confirmed, "Simple as that."

Kingsley shook his head at that, "And you just so happened to be in the right place at the right time to rescue Harry Potter from the most feared Dark Lord of all time, just as he resurrected?"

The kid paused for a moment, then shrugged, "Yep. Pretty much, except, I didn't know I was saving a national icon at the time," he threw a glance at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

"How do you expect us to believe that?" Arthur put in, face incredulous, "There's not a witch or wizard in England who wouldn't recognise Harry on sight!?"

Di Angelo raised a brow, "Do I look like a local to you?"

No one said anything for a moment. Sirius didn't think any of them had assumed he was from Britain, but Arthur's scepticism wasn't unwarranted with the strangeness of the boy.

"Where are you from?" He ended up asking, realising he was really curious. "Your name's Italian, and there's some of that in your voice, but that is some weird sort of hybrid accent you've got."

The teen briefly looked at him, "Italian, a bit of Greek, but most of my life's been spent in the US."

Huh, ok then. He wondered at the ratio of that, since he could readily tell that the kid was no one anything.

"I believe we may be getting off track again," Professor Minnie interrupted the increasingly-veering conversation, prompting Dumbledore to abandon his thoughtful look in place of once again steering the conversation.

"Yes, thank you again, Minerva." He looked directly at di Angelo, "I believe the reasons behind your involvement in the events during and after the Third Task are somewhat clear. Enough so, at least," the old wizard's voice took a slightly higher power as he gave Mad-Eye a warning glance as the retired Auror opened his mouth, "that we may move on. I am more interested in your continued activities after the immediate danger had passed. Why have you made this fight your own."

"Because I can," the kid returned Dumbledore's direct look. "Why else? What else? I'm willing and capable, and there's a resurrected fascist leader about to make a bid for power so he can go back to purging or enslaving people as he wishes. It doesn't matter where this war is taking place – that's not the kind of fight I'm willing to stay neutral in."

Watching this kid whose conviction and nerve were strong and balanced enough to allow him to meet Dumbledore's gaze like he was made it impossible for Sirius to be unimpressed. He couldn't help but swing his head back and forward to watch the two of them stare at each other in their addresses. He noted that Harry, Cedric and his baby cousin were all doing the same thing. Sturgis Podmore was staring in astonished awe, while everyone else's gazes were either intently focused, or somewhere distant.

The scene ended when Molly Weasley had finally had enough, shaking her head in some kind of despair, "You're still just a child…"

Dumbledore shook his head, awakened from the previous moment, "Molly is right in this. I've no doubt that you are an incredible and intelligent young man, and very powerful in your own right, however war is not the same as a scheme or a battle."

It was funny, really, how Sirius couldn't help but think that despite the direction the words seemed to be leading, it felt more like a warning and confirmation than a denial. The kid was powerful. Useful. And, after all, they were preparing for a war.

But maybe he was the only one to think so.

Or maybe not.

A strange (familiar) expression crossed di Angelo's face then, his lips twisting in something like a small smile (with a slight touch of a snarl). It was like something remembered, but it was hidden well.

"I know that better than most," and Sirius couldn't help unleashing his own, dark smile, for the truth of that alone.

"What, exactly, is that supposed to mean," poor, ignorant Snape. So slow on the uptake.

Di Angelo just smiled. "I've been around war my whole life. I was just a silent witness to its effects on a home front as a child, though that's nothing special. But I've also been a soldier during battle, a prisoner of war, an agent moving in the background, and an ambassador between two groups with an ancient hatred. This was my life from when I was ten, and I did most of it alone.

"That's what I've been doing the last fortnight. Gathering intelligence, getting a background on everything I can for the war that is most definitely on its way here. Honestly, I would have preferred to have more time to research before making any move, but moving too slowly would be a death sentence. Learning is all well and good, but establishing is key right now. The albino snake-twat's forces and influences are growing, and anyone who opposes him… now's the time to get our own alliances and networks."

"And that's why you came today," Sirius put in, and every eye turned to him. "Early enough to establish contact and maybe lay the groundwork for a possible alliance, but not so early that you know nothing beyond us."

Arthur frowned, "You're looking to join the Order?"

"As of now? Nope. I'm just here to meet y'all. Establish contact, make it clear I'm not a neo-Nazi and that I'm going to be sticking around for a while – in the country, but also with them," he jerked his head at Harry and Cedric. "I'm not looking for approval, permission or even a blessing, but I think it'd be better if we didn't rule each other out as allies on principle."

There was a beat wherein everyone looked to Dumbledore to see how he'd react, but his normally twinkling blue eyes were now clouded in thought.

"If it helps," Cedric's voice, slightly hesitant but pushing on, garnered all the free attention left, "I know I'm not really, uh, inducted yet, or anything, but I do think this is a good idea. Nico saved my life – he saved both of us, but the first thing we saw of him was when he blocked the killing curse that was aimed at me. Because I was 'the spare.'"

There was something both chilling and humbling about hearing that from the mouth of the one who would've been the first victim of the re-emergence of this war that had been a part of Sirius' whole life. He could see that Arthur, Minnie and Sturgis all appeared to be affected by the words, and Molly Weasley naturally softened.

"Cedric, dear, I understand that you – and you as well, Harry," she added as Sirius' godson opened his mouth. "You both experienced a terrifying ordeal where you had to rely on each other, but you're still so young-"

Sirius thought that Molly was probably about to say more to placate the youth in the room, but the lull in her last word – which was probably for effect – gave Cedric an opening to argue without making it seem like he was interrupting. He had to give the kid points for tact.

"With all due respect, Mrs. Weasley – Molly," he corrected earnestly, "but that's precisely the reason I need to speak. This is a civil war. The threat we face isn't something outward, that our parents and elders can protect us from. It is us; it stands among us, beside us, behind us. The destinies of the people I learn, play and live with, are to kill each other. You-Know-Who won't hesitate to recruit from us, just as he didn't hesitate to kill us, and I doubt he will hesitate to enslave us."

Well, shit. That's twice in one meeting that some exponentially verbose kids had silenced everyone with a very interestingly insightful speech on the nature of the world.

"He's right," Moony said, pulling eyes towards him and working with the momentum Cedric had gathered. "This war among our own people, it's theirs as much as ours. I'm not saying that we should invite anyone underage to fight or plan a war, but their opinions should be heard when they're offered."

Molly seemed doubtful and uncertain, which Sirius knew was because all of her children were the sort to 'get involved' – even Percy had left to place himself in politics – but she didn't say anything.

"Our children can only make peace if they know what their parents are fighting against and what they are fighting for," Dumbledore put forward, a twinkling smile directed at Cedric.

"And what it will cost," di Angelo added, and there was something dark and real in his voice that was proof more than anything else that he was indeed familiar with war.

There was another moment of pause from everyone as that was digested, but di Angelo was the next to claim the new direction.

He pulled out a scrap of parchment and offered it to Dumbledore who, in a casual display of wandless magic, summoned it so it whirled through the air and into his hand. After glancing at the slip, he turned his gaze back to the other end of the gathering.

"Well, this explains how you and Harry were able to find your way to Grimmauld Place."

He held up the parchment to reveal, in the Headmaster's own handwriting, the written location of the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius heard more than a few startled exclamations.

"How did you come by this," the old wizard asked, his voice inscrutable.

"An associate delivered it to me not long after I decided to track you all down. I don't know exactly how they retrieved it, but they are extremely resourceful and it is quite likely that nothing would have been capable of stopping them." The way di Angelo held Dumbledore's gaze to imply that not even the famed wizard would have been capable of preventing the theft was extraordinarily chilling. "They won't do it again; they only act on the wish of their employer, and their employer has no interest in Magical Britain's affairs, so this was done as a favour to me. A favour that would not be repeated with anyone else. This location will never again be discovered the way I found it."

You could hear a pin drop, the room was so utterly silent. It stayed like that for several countless seconds, until the parchment in Dumbledore's hand burst into flame.

"I believe you." There was apparent shock at their leader's proclamations, but Dumbledore ignored it all. "We will work on improving our security – in all areas – and we will attempt to find ways to counteract your abilities as I cannot trust that you are the only one with such unexplained powers, and the next one we meet might not be so benevolent to us as yourself, but I believe you."

Di Angelo nodded, "I hadn't expected anything less, but I will ask that you keep the advantages of my uncontested transport capabilities in mind when you are attempting to design blocks."

Dumbledore – naturally – only smiled at the request, "You may trust that I will not, Mr. di Angelo. I suspect that there will be many surprising talents of yours that I will need to keep in mind."

The kid shrugged, "Well, I doubt anyone would believe me if I disputed that at this point."

Sirius grinned. It seemed like this wretched house finally had something to sufficiently distract its poor occupants.