Disclaimer: I don't really own the Harry Potter series. If I did this wouldn't have a disclaimer, but then again… :: begins plotting some way to create multi-million dollar characters::. Oh well, that's too hard, I'll save that for the professionals. I just like using the characters as my puppets…twisting them to do my will…BWA HA HA :: begins gagging and exits:: ::returns with a glass of water, clears throat:: Is that a crime?
Desperate Times, Desperate Measures
By Sabrina Clarke and Fiona Chan
"Harry! Harry?" called a distant voice anxiously, shaking him roughly by the shoulders. Even his own name seemed unfamiliar to him as it echoed strangely inside of his head.
Harry blinked several times as everything around him slowly came into focus- each outline surrounded by an almost ethereal milky glow. In the hazy fog, he saw a bit of gold glittering above him. The Snitch! He reached out to grab it, but his arms felt leaden. In fact, all of him felt as though he was in a full body bind. A strange tingling followed each muscle movement. As his vision cleared, he found himself staring into a pair of bright, piercing blue eyes, framed by golden half-moon spectacles.
Harry suddenly felt awake, sitting up abruptly he breathed in relief, and "It's you Professor Dumbledore!" he began, then stopped, and stared around his unfamiliar surroundings, in dizzying confusion, "What just happened?"
"You know your scar hurts when Voldemort is near and when he is feeling especially hateful," said Dumbledore quite coolly, although, as each wrinkle defined itself on his face, he looked quite old and strained. Holding out an aged hand he pulled Harry to his feet, "…Rest assure, young Harry, that Voldemort is far from here." He stood silent for a moment and muttered, "Far enough." With that he unrolled a copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry once more cast a wary eye around the mysterious hooded figures in the room and looked questioningly at Dumbledore.
"Professor I-" he trailed off and tried to think of a polite way to say, who are these people who look remarkably like Death Eaters or might actually be them and what the hell are you doing with them? but it came out as, "So… erm, nice place you got here."
Dumbledore merely smiled, although Harry was sure that Dumbledore had understood his unasked question. Harry strained his eyes to see who were the hooded figures, but the dim light of the tavern only vaguely illuminated their eyes, which glittered in the semi-darkness, "Harry, what did you hear, just now?" he asked, quite kindly, drawing Harry's attention from the silent and motionless people surrounding him.
Harry looked uneasily around the cluster of hooded people, once more, and sighed, as no one seemed to want to explain their presence. His eyes wandered around the bar, taking in the nicked, stained tables and chairs moved to the sides of the room so the people could congregate in the center. Even in this this strange environment, he felt safe, "I didn't hear much, except for screaming. He-he was killing muggles. " The entire room pervaded with silence and many covered eyes flickered to the empty spaces in the circle. No more needed to be said.
Snape coughed, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "Now Potter, if you would be so kind as to tell us about your dream."
Harry looked surprised and stammered, "I-I didn't dream, Professor Snape." He looked around uneasily as he heard the dingy room filled with ominous muttering. Something was wrong.
Snape glowered at Harry, with the special expression of malevolence reserved just for him. "As I said, Headmaster, the boy is of no use to us," he sneered, "Or, perhaps, he merely wishes to keep his thoughts to himself. Modest are we, Potter?" he smiled as though what he had just said was laughable, "Tut-tut, a Potter modest?"
Dumbledore frowned at Professor Snape, silencing him, "Ah, Harry, forgive me for waking you up at this hour." He turned to the group and shrugged, "I was wrong." He looked pointedly at Snape. The masked faces muttered to one another.
"I believe that, perhaps, we should have gotten the other one, Albus-," muttered Arabella Figg respectfully, but with a concealed tone of familiarity.
"What other one?" interrupted Dumbledore sharply, looking up. Ms. Figg opened her mouth to answer, but Harry had just about enough.
He cut in quickly, "Where am I? Professor, what's going on…"? He stopped suddenly as Dumbledore's benign eyes wore an expression of sorrow.
"You've been far too long cut off from the magical community, Harry…the game is afoot, the Death Eaters and Voldemort-" he paused and Harry was surprised to see that no one flinched at the sound of the name, "have wreaked havoc and chaos on the stability we have tried to rebuild during his absence." He sighed very sadly, "They wanted me for the Minister of Magic, Harry, and I refused them. I was selfish; I did not want to leave Hogwarts. I thought I could work with Fudge as my supporter, but now I realize what I have done." with that Dumbledore handed Harry the paper. Mrs. Figg walked up slowly and whispered to Dumbledore, who shook his head.
Harry read the titles, "FUDGE ABDICATES MINISTER OF MAGIC POSITION, OVERWORKED MINISTRY TRIES TO HIDE KILLINGS FROM MUGGLES, and MUGGLE & WIZARD DEATH NOTICES. He gasped at the numerous moving, black-and-white pictures of the Dark Mark and tearful people. He looked up.
"All this has happened?"
"Yes, Harry, all this has happened and more. In two months, Voldemort has destroyed all that has taken us 15 years to repair. So now we need you," said Dumbledore gravely.
"Me?"
"Yes, Harry, you," said another hooded figure lowering his hood and stepping into the prominence of the single light bulb lighting the dingy room. Under this spotlight, his waxy skin looked even paler and his long matted hair shone with a greasy texture, made him look very vampire-like. Harry smiled- it was Sirius.
"Sirius!" he said, smiling brightly, "I'm so happy to see you!" He reached out to embrace his godfather, but Sirius held him back.
"I'm not," said Sirius shortly, "Harry I hoped you were safe, but-"
Dumbledore raised a warning hand, frowning slightly. "Desperate times, desperate measures."
"Harry, we have taken you out of safety to come to the most dangerous place you could possibly be," stated Dumbledore gravely, "These people…they are the Anti-Death Eaters- the Order of the Phoenix, and it is our first meeting in many years. Should anyone disloyal be in this group we would all be as good as dead." Harry stole a sideways glance at Snape, but his face was expressionless- an odd mixture of rapt attention and cool indifference. Many shuffled their feet mumbling ominously, some looked helplessly and hopelessly at Dumbledore.
"Dumbledore, it has not come to this?" cried a scraggly man with moth-eaten robes, in desperation, "Surely, things are not back to they way the have been! Has all we worked for in those dark years amounted to nothing?" Many shrouded heads bobbed in agreement.
"Look at these pictures, Mundungus Fletcher! The truth is not hidden!" cried Professor Snape grabbing the paper from Harry's hand and waving it around.
"Yes, because we were missing one thing…you, Harry." said Dumbledore, "One day, you remember. It was the day Cedric died…" Harry felt the pressure of Sirius' hand on his shoulder, "It wasn't your fault, Harry," Sirius whispered.
Harry shook his head as Dumbledore continued, "When Voldemort took your blood, you did not realize its significance. I did, but did not know of its meaning, so I consulted my pensieve." he indicated the stone basin besides him. "Your blood is special. Do you remember what you learned about the power of unicorn blood? Drink it, it gives immortality, but at the price of misery. So will befall Voldemort. Now not only is there the curse that failed, but the blood that has united you. Voldemort is now human enough to die."
"We are here to protect you and now because of that potion that Voldemort made; you will be his downfall as well as his savior. He knows that and is not prepared to take a risk. He will kill you. Remember always, CONSTANT VIGILANCE! Without that- you will die!" A man with grizzled hair and a grey stubbled face barked, emerging from the shadows with a clunk, clunk. His name was Alastor Moody.
Harry shivered as they all looked uneasily at him. They were trusting the livelihood of the entire magical community, in him. "I'm ready," he swallowed.
"Harry, were not asking you to do anything, but keep an eye out," said Mrs. Figg sternly giving him the same penetrating glare as Dumbledore, "You don't know what he's capable of-"
Harry interrupted, "I think I do. Voldemort killed my parents remember?"
An uncomfortable silence stifled the mutterings in the room and many looked sadly, once more, at the empty spaces in the circle.
Dumbledore looked sternly at Harry over the end of his half-moon spectacles, as though measuring him up with his penetrating blue eyes. As the meeting came to a close, many surveyed Harry with doom-laden expressions reminiscent to the looks Professor Trelawney gave him. Dumbledore sighed again and handed Harry the newspaper again, saying, "Read it and remember, constant vigilance!"
At last the effects of sleep seemed to be dawning on him as through half-lidded eyes he heard Sirius whisper to Dumbledore, "Why didn't you tell him the everything?" Before he could ask what this meant, Mrs. Figg thrust a whoopee cushion in his hand and he felt that familiar pull behind his navel.
A/N: Thank you so far to the people who reviewed this. If anything is unclear tell me. R/R!