Here is Chapter 2 – I got a bit waylaid in up-loading it. I would really appreciate any reviews or feedback, and I am going to upload a few chapters today – enjoy!

Chapter 2

Albus Dumbledore appeared in a dark London street. He hummed to himself and pulled out something that looked surprisingly like a cigarette lighter. As he clicked it, the streetlights around him went out, one by one, until only one stayed alight. The light was in front of a terraced row of houses, dark and gloomy. Dumbledore smiled and put the cigarette lighter back in his pocket.

He wandered towards the terraced row of houses and stood in front of them. They were a very odd row of houses. The numbers went 10, 11, 13, with no sign of number 12. The muggles who lived in the houses on the terrace assumed that they had been mis-numbered back in the time that they had been built. There had been numerous campaigns over the years by the residents to have the houses renumbered as it caused problems for everyone's post. Oddly enough though, whenever they got around to having a meeting about it, they had forgotten what they were meant to be discussing and instead got onto the state of the sewers (terrible), the state of the country (also terrible) and Mabel at number 23's jam (shockingly terrible). So, the houses just stayed numbered as they were.

Dumbledore stood outside the house and pulled out a wand. The hand he used to pull it out looked odd – grey and slightly misshapen. He looked at it, sighed and pulled his sleeve over the hand as he cast the spell. The houses suddenly moved apart, as if they were squishing over to make room for the house that was emerging - 12, Grimmauld Place.

Dumbledore walked over to the door and muttered some words to it. It swung open and he walked in.

The house was ablaze with lights and speech came from the room down the corridor. He looked up the stairs to see Kreacher, the house elf, looking down at him.

"Hello Kreacher," he called up, kindly.

Kreacher gave him a look and vanished up the stairs, his eyes full of something that looked almost like fear.

Dumbledore sighed and walked on into the room down the corridor. As he entered, the inhabitants looked up.

Standing near the window and across the room, was Kingsley Shacklebolt, the tall, broad and muscular black wizard with the kind eyes and the slightly mischievous grin. At the table sat Remus Lupin, looking as tired as usual, and Nymphadora Tonks sitting opposite him. She had green hair today, and bright blue eyes, which seemed to be one of the forms she was most comfortable in. Next to Tonks sat Arthur Weasley, and opposite him, Pym Featherstone, a young witch of about thirty with long blonde hair and a somewhat hangdog look. She looked like she had been listening carefully to something that Lupin had been saying. Finally, at the other end of the room, bandaging her lower calf, was Euphemia Blake, or Effie as she demanded to be called. She was the same age as Pym and looked in a complete state of dishevelment.

"Good evening, everyone," said Dumbledore, smiling softly. "How are we all?"

Everyone answered to the effect that they were well, apart from Effie, although she grinned as she limped over to him, carrying a bag.

"I think this is what you wanted, Albus."

He smiled and took out a box. He opened it and took out three vials of what looked like silver juice. As he did so, he noticed Effie's eyes on his damaged hand. She looked up at him and he smiled reassuringly at her.

"I'm fine, Euphemia."

Effie grimaced. "It's Effie. You know I hate Euphemia."

There was a laugh from behind her and Tonks stood, placing a hand on Effie's shoulder. "Imagine how I feel, saddled with Nymphadora. At least you can shorten it."

Effie grinned back at her and laughed. "Nymphi? Dora?"

Tonks scowled but then winked at Effie before walking over to a kettle on a stove to grab some tea.

"Why did you want it, Albus?" Effie asked.

Dumbledore sighed and looked at her. "I know that it is asking a lot of you, Effie, but I am going to have to keep my own counsel for now. I'm sorry. I know you risked a lot to get it."

Effie shrugged and patted him on the arm before turning to the kettle herself.

Dumbledore turned to Kingsley. "I need to talk to you. And you too, Effie if you feel up to it."

Effie nodded. She and Kingsley walked through the door, following Dumbledore as the others returned to their conversation.

They walked down one of the dark corridors to the room where the Black family had kept their great tapestry with the whole family line on it. Effie gazed at it sadly as she went past. It had only been a month or so since the death of Sirius Black and she missed him. His good humour and ready laugh were very much missed these days. Since the Minister for Magic had declared that Voldemort was in fact back from the dead, Grimmauld Place had become the London headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. But it was cold, and humourless, and dark. Everyone was in mourning.

Effie had known Sirius since school – he and Remus had been five years older but had been in the same school year as her oldest brother, Atlas. They had visited the Blake family home once and she remembered Sirius, Remus, James Potter and her brother flying across the fields behind their family home on the Isle of Skye, dipping down to fly with the seabirds. Effie had been too young to fly with them and had complained mightily to her parents, who had refused her request to be allowed to go up on her own broomstick. Later, Sirius had grabbed hold of her and taken her up on his broom. She had never told her parents but had lived in absolute admiration of the young man. When Effie was 15, she was told that the then 21-year-old Sirius had been locked up Azkaban for betraying James and Lily Potter. She had cried for days.

She sighed and turned her attention back to Dumbledore.

"Kingsley, Effie – how do you feel about living in the muggle world for a while?"