Author's Note: Chapter 2 of the revised round. Enjoy.
the
phoenix room
Once settled in Mrs. Figg's home (which, Harry noticed, still smelled of cabbage), Mrs. Figg fixed Harry with a kind smile. "The real reason I wanted you here was so you'd be able to come with me to Hogwarts during the summer."
"Hogwarts?" Harry asked, feeling slightly taken aback. "Why? What for?" He wasn't sure why he felt somewhat uncomfortable at the thought of returning so soon; but unbidden in his mind, the image of Cedric lying on the ground, the sound of his mother and father's voices, reminded him. Hogwarts was his home, he was sure of it, but he…not so soon…
Mrs. Figg busied herself with making some tea. "You'll find out when we arrive there, my dear boy. I don't know much more myself." She flashed him a quick grin, taking in the intense curiosity that shone in Harry's brilliant green eyes. "You're quite like your father, you are, but there's a lot of Lily in you, too."
"Besides my eyes?" Harry wondered aloud.
Mrs. Figg laughed, pouring two cups of tea, adding a bit of sugar, and handing a cup to Harry. She sat at the table across from him. "Sorry, dear, but I don't have any sweets quite as good as your aunt makes them."
It's not like she let me eat any of them. Harry smiled quickly before taking a sip of the tea, and felt a sudden and immense longing for a drink that he and his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, would always get called Butterbeer. The tea warmed him, but was nothing comparable to Butterbeer.
"Your mother was a lovely woman," Mrs. Figg said, reminiscing as she sipped at her tea. "Intelligent and kind, she was, and she and James made fast friends from the start. Afterwards, they fell in love." Mrs. Figg paused, before continuing. "They were perfect together."
Mrs. Figg looked back at Harry, her eyes taking in everything about him. Harry idly noted to himself that although she had Dumbledore's eyes, they were softened by the warmth she held in them. "When you were born, they were both so ecstatic. You were the only good thing that came into our lives during the peak of Voldemort's reign. The first time James held you…you were a beautiful little baby boy, and your eyes opened. You stared at each other for minutes, and everyone was so quiet, just watching. Then, of course, Sirius poked James in the head to see if he was all right and because he wanted to hold you—but still, that moment is the first, only, and most touching one I remember of everyone ever being so happy."
Harry was looking into the tea of his cup as Mrs. Figg was speaking. He tried hard not to think about them—no matter what, every time he pictured them since the Third Task, all he would hear were his mother's terrified pleas of mercy, his father's ghostly face…. It was awful, so much like his third year, when the Dementors were guarding the school….
What saddened him most was the expression on his father's face—it was a quiet, solemn expression. Granted, the situation wasn't all that perfect—the first thing he saw after having his spirit freed from Voldemort's wand was a duel between his fourteen-year-old son and the dark lord, but still…. Harry had the desire to see his father happy, laughing, and joking, like in the stories that Sirius and Remus had told him of.
"Anyway," Mrs. Figg said, looking at her watch, "I told Albus we'd be at Hogwarts by five. Go get your wand, Harry."
Harry obediently went to his trunk and managed to find his wand, safely tucked away in the box that it had come in. He emerged from his room holding the wand firmly in his grip, the curious gaze still fixed on the elder woman.
Mrs. Figg nodded, then peered at her clothes, then at Harry's. "Hmm. Maybe we should wear something more appropriate…. This is to be quite an important meeting." Before Harry could even think about going into his room to pull on his Hogwarts robes, Mrs. Figg had pulled a long, wooden wand out of her pocket (which surprised Harry since he hadn't noticed it) and flicked it at him.
Instantly, Harry felt the clothes he was wearing change. In the blink of an eye, his baggy jeans that were held up with a belt, and the large T-shirt he had been wearing became black, glossy robes of a shimmery material. These were much fancier than his Hogwarts robes, he thought, even more so than the dress robes he had. Under the robes there was some kind of long-sleeved, cuffed, high-collared tunic that reached his feet, slitted from the hip-down, covering the black, loose-fitting pants and silver-buckled black boots. The tunic was lined with the same silver color of his boots. There was also a silver sash at his waist, securing the tunic to him. Over it was a very thin silver robe, overlapped by a slightly thicker black one.
He frowned uncomfortably at Mrs. Figg's choice of robes—he much preferred his simple Hogwarts robes, but didn't say anything. Mrs. Figg obviously caught his expression, because she laughed, and simply told him, "This is an important meeting."
She transfigured her own clothes into a fancy, light blue set of robes, similar to Harry's, but definitively feminine. "I don't want to go by Floo," she said, shrugging, and holding out her hand to Harry. "Come on, we'll Apparate."
Without waiting for him to reply, she grabbed his hand and Harry felt a distinct puckering of his skin before finding himself staring into the face of his Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile, his eyes twinkling. Harry said hello back, but couldn't help the hopeful feeling that rose when he realized that Dumbledore's eyes were shining as bright as they used to before the Third Task, though there was still a grim air to him. His eyes seared through his soul, and he seemed to understand how confused and uncomfortable he was. "Arabella has dressed you up, has she? Good."
"Er—yes," he replied dryly.
Professor Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly, hugged Mrs. Figg in greeting, then Professor Dumbledore beckoned the two of them towards the castle of Hogwarts. Harry got his first look at their surroundings—they were by the gates to the castle, outside the grounds. Vaguely, he remembered his best friend Hermione telling him that no one could Apparate on the Hogwarts grounds.
Following the two adults from a few feet behind, Harry stumbled over his robes. Frowning again, he tried tugging at the collar, and found to his dismay that it was wrapped around his neck firmly. No amount of tugging would loosen it. Harry didn't give up though, and continued tugging at the uncomfortable robes until they had entered the doors of Hogwarts and were standing in the Entrance Hall.
There was a very small group of people, all dressed fancily, crowded around the Entrance Hall, and Harry felt as if he didn't belong there as they greeted Arabella. He recognized a few teachers: McGonagall, Snape, Moody. Still tugging at the collar of his robes uncomfortably, he looked out the doors of Hogwarts and looked over the grounds.
That's where it happened… He gazed at the Quidditch field, remembering how it had started, with everyone in the stands, rooting for their favorite champion. How he and Cedric had grabbed the trophy together…how everything unfolded. Kill the spare. Those three, simple words started it all, and because of it, an innocent boy had been killed. A boy who could have had so much in his life, who had so much held for him in the future…all destroyed, all gone…leaving only the memory, the very last petal of what had been a blossoming rose….
Harry tensed when he felt someone's hand clamp down on his shoulder, and turned to find all the people in the hall staring at him. He stared back, not quite sure of anything that was going on or what to say. He glanced at Professor Dumbledore then back to the crowd that was staring at him, and tugged at the collar uncomfortably again.
"Harry," Professor Dumbledore said, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze, "do you know why you're here today?"
Harry mulled over his answer for a few seconds, then honestly replied, "I haven't the slightest idea, Professor."
A few of the people around smiled, but others stayed quiet and unmoved.
"Well!" Dumbledore said, breaking the silence, "let us join Minerva and the others in the Phoenix room, shall we?"
There was a murmur of agreement. Dumbledore lead the way, steering Harry beside him with a firm hand on his shoulder. On the way to where they were headed, already in parts of the castle that Harry had yet to explore, Harry couldn't help let his curiosity get the better of him. "Professor Dumbledore," he said in a quiet voice, "what's going on?"
"You'll learn in a few minutes," Dumbledore replied to him with a kind smile. He sobered, and added, "I know things are hard for you right now…. But everything will be revealed to you when it's time."
Harry sighed inaudibly, but Dumbledore, as if to make him feel better, said, "Sirius is here. He will join the meeting."
Harry didn't ask why, but nodded slightly, hoping that Sirius wouldn't get caught, especially since there was that group of people here. He started to wonder what he was doing here, but decided that thinking about it would only give him a headache, so he just concentrated on the floor.
Quite a few minutes later, Dumbledore had stopped walking, and Harry almost bumped into him. Looking at what Dumbledore was facing, he and the rest of the group found themselves looking at a portrait picture of a phoenix. It was a beautiful bird, with fiery, gold-red plumage. The phoenix turned, and peered closely at each person gathered around its portrait. When his eyes had landed on Harry, the bird began to tweet that eerie tune he had heard so many times before.…
Slowly, Harry asked Dumbledore, "Is that…is that Fawkes?" Fawkes was the pet phoenix that Dumbledore owned.
Dumbledore smiled widely. "Yes, that is Fawkes," he agreed. "Now, if he would be so kind as to open the portrait for us."
Fawkes seemed to hear this, and with a cheerful, yet sorrowful tweet, the portrait swung open, and everyone entered. The portrait swung shut behind them, and Harry found himself to be looking around a large, oval-shaped room. Its walls were red and velvety to the touch, and in the center of the room there was simple, circular, glossy brown table, with chairs placed around it. There he found McGonagall, Mrs. Figg, and Snape already seated, among others.
Severus Snape looked up when everyone had entered, and gave Harry his usual look of absolute hatred. When Harry didn't glare back, Snape scowled and looked away.
Harry was too busy staring at a man and a dog situated in a far corner of the room. He looked closely at both and realized that they were Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. Remus looked up, and when he noticed Harry's gaze, he smiled warmly.
Remus, with Sirius—or Snuffles—at his heels, had come to Harry's side. Harry smiled at Remus, not sure what to make of what he said. "It's nice to see you again, Professor Lupin. And Snuffles."
Remus smiled at the boy. "Call me Remus, Harry. It's nice to see you too." His blue eyes dimmed as he looked over Harry. "You've gotten much taller." Thinner, too. He frowned with concern, surprised with how pale the boy was, the dark bags under his eyes. He felt, rather than heard, Sirius' low and dark growl.
The night that Voldemort had risen, Sirius had arrived at Remus' home late at night, and slowly, anguished, he had explained and described what had happened. They were both in shock, both so disappointed in themselves…the son of their best friend had been tortured, terrified, and devastated by the very evil that many had sworn to protect him from. They hadn't been able to protect him from it. And now, he was going to be dragged into something that had been hidden from him since his birth—destiny.
"Everyone, please be seated."
Although quiet, Albus Dumbledore's voice carried through the room and everyone immediately obeyed. Harry, among everyone, was the only person who had no clue as to what was going on. He was suspicious, nervous, and dying to get out of the robes all at once. He gave a soft snort as he looked himself over—what was with the sash thing? Harry wondered what Ron was say if he saw Harry in these—probably burst out laughing and never stop. Hermione would most likely lecture him on the importance of looking nice during wizard meetings, and when, where, how, and why wizarding clothing was they way it is. He tugged at the collar again, just out of habit.
He quickly looked back up at Dumbledore, who was standing at the head of the table. Making sure that he had everyone's attention, Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"The Order of the Phoenix has officially reconvened."
phoenix room
end
A/N: This chapter was a bit edited. Took out a lot of Harry's moping (yes, there was even more) because it got to be too much, or just didn't fit. Right.
Again, please review. Leave your e-mail address in a review or just e-mail me if you would like to be on my mailing list.
~Jedi Cosmos
