"Sirius

THE ORDER OF DRACONIS

He had never regretted turning to the Dark Lord.  He, Peter Pettigrew, was in command of his own troop of Death Eaters.  The likes of Avery, Nott, MacNair and even that slimy Lucius Malfoy were all under his control. The sheer power was intoxicating.

The pale moon cast a feeble light over the grounds of the Ministry of Magic Headquarters and made his silver arm glisten lucidly. The night air felt pleasantly cool upon his face, the breeze rippling through his robes.  He perched upon the rock, looking over the ranks of his Death Eaters, while keeping watch for Nott's signal.  The Lord had specifically stated that the Dark Mark was not to be used, as it would attract undue attention, so a simple flare charm was to be used for the occasion.

When Nott signalled, they would split, one section were to take the East Wing, and the others, the West Wing. They would descend upon the unsuspecting Ministry fools silently, and without warning.  They would take the Ministry tonight.

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"Sirius! Severus!  I'm not going to tell you again!" she hissed.  "Would you please do your best to refrain from using such – language in front of Harry".

 Minerva McGonagall sat back in the soft, black leather armchair, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowing dangerously.  Severus knew only too well that "warning look," and from the looks of it, she was going to start up again any moment now…

"And you of all people, Sirius.  Harry is your Godson. You should be setting a good example to him…" she chided.

"Ah. Right on cue," he thought.  "Now she rounds on me…"

"…and you, Severus.  As a professional, you should be well aware of the effects".

While Minvera was off on a rant, he cast a quick glance over at Sirius.  He noted the awkward expression on Black's face and smirked inwardly.  Why, Black seemed positively ashamed.  His eyes kept darting over to Harry as if checking to see if he had hurt him or damaged him in any way.  He knew what Black saw in Harry, as he saw it too.  Harry Potter, did indeed, greatly resemble his father. He knew Black still blamed himself for the Potter's death, and by making it up to Harry, he supposed, would be like making amends with James Potter. 

Harry Potter, however, was sitting in the armchair next to Minerva, looking around the lavishly decorated anti-room with awkward diffidence and trying not to be the cause of any more bother between the two men.  He quickly turned his gaze back to Minerva, who was about to finish her little speech.

"Not that I really give a shit," he thought.

" Albus trusts you both, and he expects to hear of no trouble between you two.  Now apologise".

Sirius ran a hand sheepishly through his hair. He glared at Snape and then mumbled a less than heartfelt apology. 

He returned Sirius's glare for an icy cold stare and grunted his own apology in return.  He sat back in the armchair of the waiting room and picked up a three year old copy of "Witch Weekly".  They had already been waiting for Cornelius Fudge for around twenty-five minutes, even before the incident. 

He absently flicked through the pages of the magazine, stopping only once to graffiti the glossy photo of Gilderoy Lockhart.  Black had now resumed his animagus form in which he came, and was now sitting at Harry's feet, Harry petting Black behind the ears. 

He knew that it was extremely risky to bring Black to the Ministry Headquarters, but Dumbledore had been quite insistent that he should come.  He wanted Sirius "to have first-hand information about his situation with the Ministry", should Black ever have to…lend a hand. 

"Yes. In the coming years, we're going to need all the help we can get," he whispered.

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Unknown to the occupants of the building, there was a small gathering of people whispering and gesticulating frantically.  In the shadow of the west wing of the Ministry of Magic building, the Order of Draconis were about to make their move.

"Look, Will. That's how we're going in. If you want to wimp out, just say".

William rolled his eyes and forced his hands into his pockets of his trench coat. 

"No, I am not "wimping out" as you so intelligently put it, Claire.  I just think it would be more efficient if we took the roof".

While Claire and William were bickering, a tall man with long, flowing black hair stepped forward.  He raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, his cloak rippling in the wind.  He spoke in a soft, but determined tone.

"Look. We won't get anywhere if we don't act now. Okay?  Voldemort may or may not be already in the building, and we can't take any chances. Is that clear?"

His gaze took in Will, Claire and the rest of the team. They were all looking nervous, although they had every right to be. There were only seven members present at the mission, another three were back at the base.  They had been put out of action earlier in the year by Wormtail and his thugs. 

Coin, though only fifteen years old, seemed to be going on forty-five in matters of worldly experience.  He was leaning against the wall, lighting a cigarette, cupping his hands around the flame, protecting it from the wind, and nodded in recognition.

Ada and Leon; sitting on a grassy knoll. Leon's vivid, red hair and blue eyes, clashing with her short, dark hair and dark eyes.  Ada, with Leon's leather jacket wrapped around her shoulders, nodded. 

John, slumped against a boulder, grinned; his mahogany brow wrinkling with the sheer force of the grin, gave him the thumbs up.

Finally, Will and Claire.  William with his dark hair and his intelligent, icy blue gaze shook his head and smiled.  Claire rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her dark brown hair.

"Well, better get on with it then," she sighed.

Without another word, the team started to make for the front of the building, the grass crunching softly beneath their feet. Will and Ada took the lead.  He brought up the rear with Coin, for reasons of his own.

"In case anything…or anyone tries to ambush us," he thought.

He knew there were other innocents in the building. His main concern was young Harry Potter.  If or when Voldemort did decide to show up, he would almost certainly be looking for the boy.  He suddenly felt sorry for the boy.  Although they had never met, Harry Potter almost certainly didn't deserve the unwelcome attention he was receiving from Voldemort.  Not like himself, whose past antics with the team definitely merited all the attention they had gotten over the past couple of years.  

"Although I'm looking forward to seeing Severus again," he thought to himself.

But for now, that would have to wait.  He jogged after Coin, all the while relying on both his senses and reason – which was imperative to be able to see the big picture – to keep a sharp look out for potential danger.

The landscape was shrouded in thick shadows (probably due to the concealment charms which had been placed upon the building and the surrounding land, he reminded himself,) the grass a strange purplish hue, and the sky was a muggy, smoky blue-black.

"Which would provide perfect cover for an outside attack," he realised.

 Claire and Leon had done a lot a research beforehand on the building and its history, and had, consequently come up with a shitload of useful information.  Therefore, the team knew most of the corridors and secret passages of the Ministry Headquarters like the back of their hands.  They were subsequently heading for one of those secret passages; a sort of subterranean entrance, a little cavern if you like.  Although the entrance was quite small, and it would be a tight squeeze for Johnboy.

He could faintly sense the presence of the Death Eaters. They were in the vicinity of the building. Ever since the night of his first mission he could sense them with ease.  An ever present mixture of piousness and fear.  Yes. They were quite the brave, fearless warriors.

"That's what separates the rest of those shits from you, Sev.  You've got guts," he smiled.

He stopped and frowned.  That feeling. Closer…yes, they were somewhere in the vicinity…but closer than he had expected them to be…

To the right of him, there was a muffled "whmph" which signified that Coin had started to light up again, although he didn't hear it.

"Bastards!" he spat

He had just about a second's worth of time to see the puzzled look cross Coin's face when he broke into a run.