The rather small group of people, all garbed in brilliant white robes, were deeply immersed in their research when November came storming in. The Order of the Phoenix was still working on charms and incantations to make the Ministry of Magic as well protected as Hogwarts. Ancient books covered the large, round table, along with rolls and rolls of parchment, all of their wands, and the several household objects they were experimenting with. At the moment, Daniel Prewett *yes, that name is a nice, healthy mix of "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" and "The Queen of the Damned" J*was reading aloud a particular passage on the logistics of Apparating, and several members were busily taking down notes. November rushed into the kitchen, her arms full of letters and a very upset way about her. She flung the stack down in the center of the table, sending the parchment flying.
"I don't give a damn what you say anymore, Harry-I want a bloody Secret-Keeper!" Harry looked up from his work immediately at this, completely startled. November was clearly very distraught by the situation. She was cursing, first off, and she was the least likely person he knew to do that, regardless of the problem. The other indication was the most obvious: she had tears of frustration streaming down her cheeks, like a giant dam of an enormous river had just broken. *...and now you know where Abby's tearful sensitivity comes from* She didn't even bother to try wiping them away. A few wizards reached in to read the letters that had instilled in her such a sense of panic.
"We've been getting these every day for a month now, and I've been pretty good about it. I suggested we get a Secret-Keeper more than once, but you kept saying, 'no, I can protect us. I can keep us safe'. And I went along with it, even though I was afraid. Well, I've had it. I'm not afraid anymore-I'm absolutely terrified! These all came today, and they say the same thing-Avada Kedavra. But this time they're worse. Far worse. You say you don't want to cut off contact with the outside world, well, I do think that 's worth our lives! Go on, read one of them. Just take a look."
Worth our lives? thought Harry as, with wide eyes of bewilderment, he took one of the letters and opened it. He recognized the material immediately - the message was written inside the same type of white card as all the other letters had been. Just as before, "Avada Kedavra" was written in green, luminescent lettering…but this time, that wasn't all. The curse was written on the top half of the card. Beneath that was another message, written with the same green letters: "Her life is in danger". It looked hastily written, like it was a second thought tacked on after the original message had been written. On the bottom half were words more like the way "Avada Kedavra" had been done: "Abigail Mae Potter will die at Hogwarts". Underneath was a picture. Harry's stomach dropped at the sight of it. It was a picture of someone in a black cloak (whose face was hidden by the hood) performing the Killing Curse on a young girl with a striking resemblance to Abby. The authenticity of it was sickening. If it was indeed Voldemort-or even a Death Eater-who had sent it, no doubt there was nothing done to doctor the photo. The girl in the photo was undoubtedly dead. His hands quivered as he held the note. The other members of the Order were quiet, watching his reaction. November had her arms folded across her chest as if to say, "There, you see?"
"I want her out," he said in a voice so low only his wife could hear. "I want her out of school. Now. I don't care how well she is protected. Send an owl to Dumbledore. Tomorrow morning we're taking the first train to Hogsmeade. Send Hagrid one as well. I want him to meet us there. You and I are taking Abby out of school first thing tomorrow and bringing her home. Then…" He gave a great sigh.
"Then Cornelius will perform the spell. Who do you want for a Secret-Keeper?" he finished.
It took a moment or two for his words to sink in, but when they did they hit hard. The room erupted with the sounds of questions, protests, and a mad scramble to read whatever it was he'd read. November most certainly hadn't expected this reaction. Even she was too shocked to answer his question right away. Her mouth just sort of opened and closed like a floundered fish. The Order, though, wasn't nearly as quiet.
"Harry, November, you can't be serious!" exclaimed an indignant Mandy Weasley. "There is no greater protection Abby can have than at Hogwarts under the direction of the finest wizard the world has ever known!" Harry gave another enormous sigh. He lifted the glasses off his nose and set them on the table, gently massaging his face out of sheer exhaustion. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd gotten a decent night's sleep. That had been ages ago, back before so many lives had come to depend on him. He'd never have guessed that one of those lives would be his daughter's.
"Dumbledore was Headmaster while I was in school, too," he said quietly. "Voldemort found me my very first year and attempted to murder me. In my second year he nearly succeeded in killing Ron's sister Ginny, and in my sixth…well, you all remember that particular ordeal, and that passed right through the Ministry, too. *I'm just compensating for later books, that's all* And-and when I was 14…with Cedric…Dumbledore may be great, but he's not omnipotent. I will not allow my daughter to be subject to that sort of risk."
Her ankles feeling suddenly weak, November sank into an empty chair beside Harry. She stared at him, unblinking, as he continued to field questions of protest.
"But a Secret-Keeper?" asked Daniel. "Don't you think that's a little extreme? I'm all for the idea of bringing her home, but if you get a Secret-Keeper you'll have to drop out of the Order. I mean, because no one will be able to find you or anything. We'd be losing one of our strongest members, and – I'm just not too keen on the idea." There was a murmur of agreement around the table. Harry Potter? Leave the Order of the Phoenix? That was absurd! He had done so much for them that the scar, his trademark scar, just above his right eye had become their symbol of freedom. They needed him on their side to help them fight. Without him…Daniel shuddered at the thought.
"Harry, there's going to be another battle very soon," interjected Nathan Phillips. "We've been sensing that for weeks. Without you, I don't think we'll be able to stop it from turning into an all-out war. The Ministry doesn't stand a chance against the Death Eaters, and neither do we. Not without you. I hate to think what would happen if…if they took over the Ministry. There would be chaos, nothing but chaos. We – "
"You will stand up strong," Harry interrupted coldly. "The Order of the Phoenix has been defending the wizard world since before I was born. You don't need me. You have to stop relying on me so much. In fact, I'm forcing you to. I will help you as much as I can through whomever we choose as Secret-Keeper, but for any more than that you're on your own. I trust your judgment. I leave Dumbledore, who is far greater and more powerful than I, in charge. My mind is made up. No amount of arguing is going to change it."
The table went silent as he spoke. Mandy, who knew Harry better than anyone else there (with the sole exception of November, naturally), was surprised by the aged wisdom in his words. He was only in his mid-30s, but already he spoke in the same sage tone as Dumbledore or even Merlin. It had happened before, but only when he was completely serious, or when knowledge of experience was necessary. It almost caused a twang of sympathy in her. Clearly Harry was wise beyond his years, but only because he had seen more in the past 10 years alone than most people – including wizards – see in their entire lifetimes. Not by choice but by force.
November noticed his choice of words as well, but she didn't feel nearly as sympathetic about it. She sniffled quietly as Harry went on to resume the conversation. "Now then. Daniel, where were you?" he said calmly, picking up his quill to go on with his notes. Daniel, who was still shaken by the whole ordeal, slowly picked up his book to continue. However, November wasn't having it.
"How dare you turn me away with just a wave of your hand," she said through clenched teeth. "Harry James Potter, you make me sick." This threw the group more off-guard than Harry's declaration had. It was Harry's turn to be too surprised to speak. She threw him the coldest, cruelest glare she could muster before standing up sweeping the letters off the table, turning on her heels and storming out of the room. He took in a sharp breath. He had grown somewhat accustomed to her random mood swings as of late, owing to her pregnancy, but she had never blown up at him in front of others. Besides which, what did he do wrong?
He turned toward the rest of the Order. "I hope you'll excuse me," he said, standing to follow his wife. There was a general nod of agreement from everyone there. What else could they do? There was no point arguing him out of a Secret-Keeper; he seemed hell-bent on that one. Maybe later on, once he had calmed down a little, they would try again. Later, but not now. Daniel, with quivering hands from shock, opened his book and tried to pick up on his notes. It was a struggle to keep his voice from waving as well.
November had gone into the living room, so Harry followed as close behind as he could. He caught her just as she stepped into the room.
"Em, what did I do?" asked Harry defensively. She stopped abruptly in mid-step, as though she had just walked into a brick wall. Something about what he had just said seemed not to sit right with her. What had he done to offend her this way? Whatever it was, he certainly hadn't meant it. His ignorance appeared to upset her more than the unknown action. She whirled around to face him, her hair whipping across her face so much it stung. Her eyes had fierce electricity to them. Immediately Harry knew he'd made a mistake. Way to go, thought Harry to himself. You've just upset a Spanish woman. Nothing left to do now but hope for the best and expect the worst.
"What did you do?" she hissed. "Don't hide behind your flowery language. You're not Dumbledore, nor are you the greatest wizard to ever live. You're 34 bloody years old! You're not God. Voldemort isn't going to stop just because you're standing in the doorway. You survived his murder curse once. Once! And only on a damn lucky chance. I hate you for doing that, you know that? 'I don't want a Secret-Keeper because I had a bad experience with them.' 'Abby will be fine at Hogwarts.' 'I can keep us safe.' When it's in your best interests, you stop. And then - and this is what really burns me – when you decide to step away from the spotlight, you act like you're doing some noble deed! I just can't believe you lately, Harry! No eres un héroe. Tu eres solamente una persona. ¡Una persona! Una persona no se puede dejar Voldemort de controlando el mundo. Y ¡no quiero tener un bébé con un hombre tanto egoísta cómo tú!"
*translation: "You aren't a hero. You're only one person. One person! One person can't stop Voldemort from taking over the world. And I don't want to have a baby with a man as selfish as you!" – (psst, thanks Dair!) And don't worry, my certain Ron worshipper friend (you know who you are)-the next chapter is Harry and November, but the one after is more with Abby ;)*