Muffinlover: As always: Thank you so much for always leaving such a nice review for me! I appreciate it!!! And it's great that you keep on guessing what is going to happen next and everything. Lets me know that you're interested in my story and that's wonderful :-)

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Disclaimer: None of the recognized characters belongs to me, they are either copyright and/or registered trademarks of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros.

Everyone was there, packed into various rooms at the old, undetectable house which was Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Everyone except Snape, for which Harry was most thankful.

As he sat down at the big table, he let his eyes wander, taking in every detail of this familiar place. It pained him beyond belief to be back in Sirius' house where memories haunted him at every corner, and every room and at the sight of every piece of furniture.

He was shocked at first, naturally, that he had been brought here while under the influence of the sleeping charm. He was hurt as well; couldn't anybody imagine what it must feel like to be here for him? But he realized that the Order of the Phoenix still used Sirius' estate as their hiding and meeting place for good reason. Since undetectable places were extremely rare, he came to the conclusion that this was probably still for the best.

He wondered for a second who, if anyone, would become heir to Sirius' possessions, and if his godfather had thought of making a will. He doubted this since Sirius was still so young and healthy and surely not thinking about death. He swallowed thickly, ignoring the familiar stinging at the back of his eyes.

Concerned faces met his glance everywhere he looked. Shortly before the meeting began, Harry rose from the table one more time to go back upstairs. He couldn't stand sitting there, in painful silence and having the others stare at him with their sympathetic looks and not saying much, if anything, to him. He was about to open the door to the room he figured he'd share with Ron again, when he felt somebody pat him on the back. He spun around.

"Hello, Harry," said a deep voice and a man with long black, untidy hair looked at him, smiling.

"Hi, Sirius," Harry smiled back at his godfather. "It's so good to see you again. Eventually I might add," he pretended to frown.

"Yes I know, I'm sorry. We should have come after you much earlier. I, of all people, know what it feels like to be stuck somewhere you really don't want to be, you know?" Sirius smirked. "But let me look at you. It's been a while, right?" He took hold of Harry's shoulders, shaking him a little and then pulling him into a big hug. "I want to show you something." He said, after he released him.

"Alright," Harry grinned. "What is it? Some illegal Marauders' utensil?"

"Oh, so close, so close," Sirius grinned broadly. "Your father would be very proud of you, Harry," Sirius added thoughtfully, in a more serious tone.

"You've been through an awful lot of things… You have seen so much more than you should have. Be assured that you are the bravest person I know, Harry! And whatever more burden might lay in your way, you can always turn to me, you understand? I'm your godfather! I'm here to help! Remember that," he added in a more cheerful tone, slapping Harry on the back so hard that he coughed.

"Alright mate, I understand! Hey, Sirius?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I'm really glad that you're my godfather! I just wanted you to know." He felt a heavy weight lifting of his chest, having made sure that Sirius knew how much he cared for him.

"Now that was really kind of you. But hey, don't look so gloomy, I'm about to show you something really fascinating. You're father and I spent hours fooling around with this item… Very secret you know?"

"Ok Sirius, I understand! I'm not as thick as you think I am!" Harry grinned widely, and followed his father's friend into the room.

But as he looked around, the room was excruciatingly empty. As empty as the floor he just left. As empty as his heart.

Harry leaned against the wall, jerking his glasses from his face, and burying his face in his hands. It had seemed so real. The pain was about to tear him apart, ripping his soul from his body. He truthfully imagined talking to Sirius just now, and it was almost more than he could stand.

He gradually slid to the floor, his back to the wall. He pulled his legs towards him, embracing his legs with his arms. The weight of the world seemed to have been put on his shoulders by the feel of this anguish. He came to realize that this torment would never really leave him for Sirius's death caused him to be injured profoundly, leaving an everlasting scar. Not like the one visible on his forehead, but one which was untraceable by others, but so evidently in his soul.

He was sobbing silently, his hands running through his untamable black hair.

He was like this when Hermione found him. Without a word she sat down beside him and pulled him into the tightest embrace, silently rocking him back and forth, mutely soothing the pain in his soul and easing it just a bit.

After what seemed no less than ten minutes, Hermione pulled away, gave him a wobbly smile and then grabbed his hand and led him downstairs, still not speaking a word for which he was most thankful.

After entering the room, Lupin came over to him and pulled him into a fatherly hug as soon as he set eyes on him. He mumbled something Harry could not understand properly, but as he drew back he saw the eyes of his former (and still his most favourite of all) professor shimmering moistly.

Harry had spent some time over the summer thinking what it must feel like for Remus Lupin to lose his best friend, the last of the famous Marauders, if one leaves out Peter Pettigrew, nick-named Wormtail, formerly known as a Marauder, presently better known as Lord Voldemort's faithful servant…

For a slight moment a terrifying thought came to Harry's mind. What would it be like for him, Harry, to lose one of his closest friends? Ron or Hermione?

He did not dare follow this thought for it made him feel, if possible, even more dreadful than before. Plus he simply could not imagine losing either Ron or Hermione for he felt an alarming certainty deep within him that he could not go on without them.

Abandoning these morbid contemplations, Harry sat down at the table and subconsciously took a look at the scar on his arm, where Wormtail's dagger had pierced his skin, while being tied on a tombstone, abusing his blood to resurrect Voldemort. This scar, as the one on his forehead, will stay with him forever, a gruesome reminder of this horrifying night.

Tonks sat right across the table, looking at Harry with a sort of forced smile on her face. She had altered her appearance yet again, this time wearing a wild mane of greenish curls, a huge crooked nose (similar to Dumbledore's) and eyes of a brownish colour. Harry was surprised by her creativity, thinking of different looks so often. Kingsley Shacklebolt was sitting next to Tonks, two Aurors at his side that were introduced to Harry as new members of the Order. One was a young blonde witch with the name of Mathilda Buttercup. She was rather pretty if it wasn't for an extremely big, oddly coloured wart on the very tip of her nose, which caught everyone's attention fast, to her misfortune.

But, as Fred and George (who were obviously present, as Harry had heard from his bedroom while ago) whispered into Harry's ear, this was a nothing short of a "magic wart".

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you, she can do amazing things with it! Let's say that our Extendable Ears are nothing short of rubbish compared to that sensor on her nose!" Fred said, excitedly.

The other Auror was an extremely old wizard by the name of Flavius Floorstep, tremendously experienced in Defense against the Dark Arts, but unfortunately his reflexes began to slow down gradually. These two new members agreed to join the Order as soon as they had the information of Voldemort's return confirmed by the Ministry.

***

Harry had experienced a deeply warm welcome by Mrs. Weasley, who shrieked at the first sight of him, walking down the staircase to the living room for the second time, closely followed by Hermione.

"Harry, dear! How are you feeling? You still look quite clammy! Let me have a look at you!" She pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing him until he thought all air must have disappeared from his lungs. After she released him, she pushed away his hair, feeling his forehead. "Now this sleeping charm does tire the person it is given to. You should rest a little more," she said firmly.

"I'm fine; I just need to speak to Professor Dumbledore quickly. He promised me that he would be telling me what's been going on," Harry responded, trying hard to sound extremely well off and determined. Eventually Mrs. Weasley couldn't force him into going back to his bedroom and told him to go into the living room to meet the others, even though she did so very reluctantly.

***

A rather uncomfortable silence was filling the room as everybody was occupied by his or her own thoughts, all joined in waiting for the arrival of Dumbledore. Harry took a sip of the Butterbeer in front of him, smiling at Ron and Hermione, who were sitting on either side of him, watching him closely. It now felt good to be around them once more, he only wished it wasn't in a tense situation like this. His stomach lurched in anticipation, not knowing what to expect and nervously waiting for Dumbledore to arrive. Suddenly, he realized someone else besides Snape was missing.

"Where's Mundungus Fletcher?" he asked, his words penetrating the quiet and making everybody look up. The expressions on their faces were nothing short of shock as the members of the Order of the Phoenix all exchanged nervous glances.

Hermione let out a small sob, drawing Harry's attention to her only.

"What is it, Hermione?" he demanded. "What has been going on? Will somebody start telling me? I feel like I'm sort of out of the loop here and I'm starting to dislike that quite a bit!" He didn't care if he sounded rude anymore. This was simply unfair.

His temper was flaring, threatening to come close to boiling point and at a disturbingly high speed. Hurt and anger were a hazardous combination, as he came to realize quickly. Hermione looked terrified at his outburst, looking to the others for help. Lupin simply shrugged, muttering something inaudibly again.

Fortunately, they were spared an answer as the rotating green flames in the fireplace on the side of the room announced Dumbledore's arrival. And sure enough, a second later an old, yet great wizard stepped out of the fire, adjusting his robes in a swift movement of his wand, causing them to lay as flawlessly as they ever could.

"I apologize for the delay," Dumbledore said, looking at everybody as he spoke, making each and every one of them feel as if he solitary talked to them. "But I still had very important matters to attend to. So if you please forgive me." He made his way around the table while he was speaking, taking a seat at the head of the table, looking around at each person present. "Harry, I see that you have awoken. I am glad to see you in good health."

"Professor," he started, conscious of the fact that no one had given him any answers yet. "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but you promised me…"

"Yes, Harry, yes I promised you and I intend to keep that promise. If you let me have my say, I am confident that you'll find I'll cover most of your questions and if I - may this be the case - , did not satisfy your concerns, you will find that I will be delighted to answer any other questions you have."

"Um, alright," was all that Harry managed to reply to this monologue of Dumbledore's.

"I'm sure your first question will be concerning the whereabouts and the condition of Miss Grace Kralyevich. I am pleased to inform you that she is doing much better and the healers are making excellent progress. She will be up and in good physical shape before long. Although I'm afraid she'll have to remain in St. Mungo's hospital for quite a bit. You will, however, be able to visit her sometime tomorrow, I suppose. The memory charm has not been performed on her yet since there are still a few matters that need to be tended to. As I am going to explain in a minute," Dumbledore added as he saw not only Harry, but several of the others about to question him about this.

"Well, as I am optimistic you already noticed, your new friend is somewhat extra-ordinary, Harry. She is a muggle, yes, but as we all have a past we do not know everything about, it is your acquaintance that has one past of most unusual distinction."

Harry felt himself tense at this, hardly able to hide his nervousness.

"I should be right when I suspect that you felt particularly attracted to this girl, is this not so?" Dumbledore asked, the first hint of a smile on his face.

Harry blushed furiously, noticing Ron smirk at this while Hermione's eyes were fixed on something on the opposite wall of the room, nibbling on her lower lip.

"Be this as it may," Dumbledore continued. "But I am sure that you, since you attended the Quidditch Worldcup two years ago, could not restrain yourself from comparing her to a Veela, am I correct?" he asked, looking at Harry intensely.

Harry took in a sharp breath. Now this could just not be true. It would have been too obvious, his first thought ever was that Grace had to be a Veela, simply because of her looks and the effect she had on him. He noticed the members of the Order, along with his friends and the Weasley family murmuring to each other, whispering something he could not make out.

"Well, yeah, but she can't be? She would have told me, I'm sure…" he let his sentence trail off for it sounded stupid in his own ears.

"She would have, maybe, but she did not simply because she is not a Veela," Dumbledore carried on. "The night of the unfortunate attack of Professor Snape, I sent Fawkes to her parents, delivering the message of her being transferred to St. Mungo's. As I'm sure you agree, Fawkes has a very sensitive way of delivering bad news. I visited with her parents the same night, finding out more about her daughter. And things started to become clearer to me… Grace is no Veela, she is as much a muggle your cousin Dudley, Harry. But she has a Veela in her heritage and not just a usual that is," he paused to catch his breath before continuing.

"Veelas are said to be the spirits of unbaptized women, roaming the Earth without ever finding peace. We know better though.

Veelas are nature spirits, pure and powerful as fairies and elves. They are known to occasionally fall in love with mortal men, giving up their immortality in order to live an earthly life, side by side with the one they love. About four hundred years ago the first Veela to take this step was one of the name of Clemencia. It is she that wedded a mortal man, a muggle, and was punished by her kind by losing her immortality. Which from then on became the common punishment following that sort of misdeed. It was this Veela your friend descends from. And who do you think might have knowledge of this and employ it for his uses?"

Harry simply sat there, starring at his Headmaster. This was too much information to comprehend at once. He felt a small hand slip into his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He turned to look at Hermione, whose eyes were glistening unnaturally.

"I must tell you Harry, that there is someone who has been tirelessly looking for an opportunity like this, determinedly working on a mission, coming closer to its realization than we would have feared. For it is Mundungus Fletcher who had bravely taken advantage of an opportunity to sell some, well some of his goods to a well-known Death Eater, finding out enormously important information and putting his life at risk doing so.

"Voldemort has gained knowledge of a magic, darker and more ancient than any of us can comprehend. It has been thought of by the most sinister wizards of the earliest times, with qualities and effects of which I am afraid to talk about even now. It was this information Professor Snape intended to deliver that night."

Several of the people flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name, but Dumbledore completely ignored this and went on. "But I came to realize that you will have to know about all of this, I will not be guilty of the same mistake as I was before; not telling you all of the most important issues." Dumbledore sighed heavily at this, pinching his nose with two of his fingers and rubbed his eyes as if he had difficulties with his vision. "It is called," Dumbledore hesitated momentarily. "It is called the Potio Potentia Veneficus, the Most Powerful Magical Potion. Or it is also known as the Potio Lacrima, the Draught of Tears."

Many people gasped at this, Tonks let out a shriek and her green hair turned grey in the speed of a heartbeat, Mrs. Weasley took hold of Mr. Weasley's hand, squashing it vehemently.

"But, Professor Dumbledore, this potion is a legend, a myth; it is not in existence, is it?" Lupin broke the muttering with his deep clear voice, silencing the others. "Obviously I heard many speak of it, but it is as much sought and longed after as the Holy Grail is by numerous of legendary Muggles. Nobody has ever sat eyes upon it and many have died in the attempt of seeking it. It combines the most ancient and most powerful supremacy's of all magical beasts in one single potion, giving the one who possesses it tremendous power, beyond compare!" Lupin continued.

"I'm thankful for this summary of its powers, Remus," Dumbledore smiled. "What you said was most correct, besides one important deciding factor. The comparing of it to the Holy Grail might be appropriate in pointing out the human's desire after it, but the impulse for these quests is so different." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "As you already said, the Grail is thought to be Holy while the Potion of Tears is most devilish. The person seeking it does so out of the uttermost desire of power, supremacy and the enslavement of others. As such, I guess all of you can think of no one but Lord Voldemort, combining these cravings in one person, am I right?"

Harry felt as if he had run headfirst into a solid brick wall. This sounded too terrible to be true. Voldemort brewing a most powerful potion? He pinched his arm, hoping to wake up in the backyard of Privet Drive, next to him a glass of ice cold pumpkin juice. But his right hand was still clasping Hermione's, whose fingers had become steadily icier throughout Dumbledore's speech.

"Now, Professor," Harry managed to croak hoarsely after a while. "Does this mean that the Order has to prevent Voldemort from ever getting hold on this potion?"

"I'm afraid, it is harder than this," Dumbledore heaved a sigh. "Because the potion is not in existence it cannot be protected. Therefore, it is the various ingredients that have to be kept secure from him. Do you recall that Voldemort is seeking alliance with all magical creatures? The Dementors, the Giants and so forth? It is because of this Potion, we have come to realize. One of the most primordial powers is possessed by no other than the Veelas. But since they are most pure and untainted creatures, they cannot be tempted to join the power Voldemort promises them. So the Dark wizard seeks to lure one of them into his snare on different paths. And it is your friend that has proven a suitable opportunity! There still remain powers within her, waiting to be stimulated, brought to life by just a simple magic. Many of us now fear that Professor Snape's stunning spell might have done just that. But this has not yet been confirmed, so hopes are still up. I do not know what would happen if our fears prove to be true. She might have to be send into hiding and this would be difficult to explain to her and her parents. It is not much which is needed from the Veelas for the Potio Lacrima, the Draught of Tears. And therefore it is nothing which would be difficult to gain from an innocent, unknowing "muggle girl" such as your friend." Dumbledore stopped, obviously exhausted.

Harry looked around in a sort of trance.

This is horrible, was all he managed to think while looking at the other faces, some which were pale, while others looked exhausted and rather fearful. He propped up his elbows on the table, placing his head in his hands.

Why must misery find me, wherever I go, no matter what I do? he thought, yet again, a fierce headache causing him to flinch. He then heard somebody whisper close to his ear.

"Don't worry, Harry. It is as I told you. We'll get through this together. Everything's going to be ok!"

***

A/N: That was chapter 8… Hope you all liked it. Reviews are most welcome… since it's the only way to let me know what you think about it :-)

Thank you and see you next time…