For my original Author's note, refer to La Default Chapter.

Grazie. Amalita.

P.S: Thank you to all my reviewers, even those who weren't so keen on the story. If you find the story a bit dull I would like to hear from you. After all, how am I supposed to get any better without constructive criticism? Anyways, let's keep this sucker rolling!

Chapter Two: Retribution...

Hogsmeade 1987

By the time she reached the Three Broomsticks, Carmen was NOT in the best of spirits. She plonked down into a booth, giving her order to the waitress and took off one of her heels, letting the water and slush from the cold dank streets of London drip out. Horrible cold place, this London. She definitely hoped that the summer would bring a little warmth and sunshine.

"Here we are Miss. One Firewhisky. Oh I'm sorry!" The waitress apologized profusely while she mopped the table clean of half the whisky, dripping over the edge all over her feet.

"It's all right. Really." Carmen assured her. The waitress sighed and looked glumly at her sparkly blue heels.

"I just bought these too." She pouted.

Carmen downed the remaining drink and felt heat surge through her veins, delightful stuff Firewhisky, and took a crumpled letter out of her coat, studying it again.

It had been 2 months since her father had died, suffering a strange attack while bringing in that days hoard of grapes from their vineyard that surrounded their family villa. She came home and looked out the kitchen window and saw her father lying in the long grass of the field, the dogs licking at his hands and nuzzling his face.

The memory haunted her, kept her from sleeping, from eating. She should have been there to help him. She should have taken better care of her Papa. With their mother dead and buried in the fields, Carmen was the eldest of 6 sisters, and with no brothers, this put her in charge. There was no one to blame but herself.

And so, when a mysterious letter had arrived, calling her to London with the promise to regain the honour she had lost she had wasted no time, jumping the first train to Hogsmeade. And here she sat, in The Three Broomsticks, at 9:00pm on Wednesday the 3rd of January, just as the letter had requested, waiting to meet Albus Dumbledore, the man who promised to have all the answers.

But no one had yet presented themselves as a Signor Dumbledore. Carmen frowned and studied the letter again. Maybe she had read it wrong. Her written English was still a little inadequate.

"Miss Pescetelli I presume?"

Carmen looked up and tried to hide her surprise. The person who spoke was an elderly wizard; God only knew just how old, with sparkly blue eyes and a long crooked nose, a lot like Pinocchio, now that she thought of it. On the bridge of his nose sat half moon spectacles that framed those eyes that seemed to, put one at ease. He wore VERY conspicuous robes of deep purple with gold and silver stars and a pointy hat to match. So much for a secret meeting. He stuck out like a sore bloody thumb!

"Well that depends on who is asking." She replied tersely. The old man smiled and removing his hat, swept into a deep bow. Carmen felt herself go a little red.

"Forgive me, my dear. I am Albus Dumbledore. The head of the Order of the Phoenix." He said this last statement in hushed tones. Carmen leant forward secretively. "And what is the Order-?"

"In due time my dear, in due time." Was the reply. Dumbledore seated himself opposite Carmen and rubbed his long bony hands together.

"A glass of mead." He told the waitress.

"And a bottle of Firewhisky." Carmen added. She was beginning to think this would require more alcohol.

"May I extend my sympathies to you, Miss Pescetelli, for the death of your father." He stared at her with those electric eyes and Carmen turned away. "I knew him well. He was a good man."

Carmen's head snapped up again, forgetting all about his strange eyes. "You?" she asked doubtfully, "You knew my father? You? H-how- I mean...he's never been outside of Sicily!"

"What leads you to believe I have never been outside of London?" he asked her simply, taking the drinks from the waitress's tray. Carmen snatched the whisky from the table and refilled her glass.

"Signor Dumbledore I don't mean to be rude, but I really don't have the time, or the patience for this cryptic guessing game. Why am I here? What news could you possibly have about my father's death? He-he collapsed under strain one afternoon while bringing in stock." The mention of the murderous 'strain' caused her heart to thud with pain once more. "There really isn't anything else to it."

Dumbledore took a sip of his drink and considered Carmen, her dark eyes flashing fire.

"Miss Pescetelli, the death of your father runs deeper than you know." he whispered, leaning in close over the rough wooden table. She followed suit, leaning in close, feeling her stomach clench.

"Salvatore Pescetelli was an integral member of The Order of the Phoenix."

Carmen closed her eyes and sighed, straining to keep her voice calm. "What is The Order of the Phoenix?"

"The Order of the Phoenix is a secret resistance group, set to destroy and bring down the rise and reign of the Dark Lord Voldemort. We believe that he has plans to move and conquer most of Europe and that he has already recruited Death Eaters, or followers, in many countries throughout Europe, including of course, Italy."

Carmen laughed bitterly into her glass and continued to mechanically refill and drain her glass, occasionally mumbling disdainful comments such as 'Really?' 'Is that so?'

Dumbledore, who seemed unaware of her bad humour, continued. "So we in turn have been secretly recruiting witches and wizards throughout the continent to join The Order and help us keep watch, and combat his plans. Carmen, your father was one of the-"

"Enough!" Carmen yelled sharply. Dumbledore looked at her in some surprise. Her hands were shaking and her voice shook as though she were on the verge of tears. "Enough. I don't know what kind of...of sick thrill you get from this but I won't stand for you insulting the death of my father, with some ridiculous-"

"But Miss-"

"No!" she yelled, a tear sliding down her cheek, "No. You will not discredit this tragedy. My father deserves respect. You will not take this from him!" swiftly, her hands shaking like crazy, Carmen stood, gathering her coat in her hands.

"Good evening, Sir."

"Carmen please listen." Dumbledore reached out a hand and grabbed hold of her arm. "You know what I'm saying is the truth, I understand you should be upset-"

"You don't understand anything!" she hissed, wrenching free of his grip.

"Salvatore was murdered."

"That's bullshit."

"Carmen-"

"IT'S BULLSHIT!" She hollered dashing from the tavern. She ran outside to the cold winter night, snow flying past in the howling wind. Her cheeks were wet with tears and she was angry and confused. She somehow made her way down a dingy alley and lay against the wall, panting and shut her eyes tight, sobbing noiselessly.

It was a few moments before she realised she wasn't alone. Dumbledore slowly made his way down the alley, and held out a handkerchief. Carmen took it from him without looking up, and blew her nose.

"What happened?" her voice quivered.

"He was discovered," he told her quietly, "One of Voldemort's Italian Death Eater's found out, hunted him down and struck him with a curse, killing him instantly."

Carmen looked down at her feet, her grief beyond tears. Finally, she willed herself to look up at Dumbledore "What do you want from me?"

"It is not so much what I want, but what you want for your father."

She thought on this for a moment. "I don't understand."

"Take up your father's place in the Order. Fight for his justice. Avenge his death."

Carmen sighed, letting her head fall back against the wall. This was her chance. Her chances to earn back her respect and make everything right. Someone had taken away her home, family and the peace of her world. They had murdered her father. Laughed with delight as they watched him fall. Carmen felt anger unlike any she had ever known well up in her chest. He would not die in vein. Carmen would see, that her father's killer suffered an even worse fate. She would complete her father's task and protect her family, just like her father had done. She would keep her sisters, her home and their little village safe, and never again would anyone of them have to suffer such a loss and feel such pain. She would break Voldemort's neck with her own two hands.

She raised her head, tall and proud, and clasped Dumbledore's bony hand in hers.

"You have my word."

AN: OK, well, that was a pretty boring chapter but I had to lay down the groundwork so you'd all know what the hell was going on. But the whole romance thing will kick in, in the next chapter I promise!!!

Until next time!! Amalita