Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Squigglius (To your many reviews) – I can't believe you just read that many chapters so fast, but I suppose I'll take it as a compliment. You certainly caught up very fast, though. Thanks for all your compliments!

Brittney – British? No, I'm actually Canadian.

Emily – An FF not online? I wouldn't be able to keep up with it. Actually I'm pretty sure that if this wasn't being posted online, I would be too lazy to bother writing the rest of it.

High Serpent King – Thanks! Anyway I've just reviewed your story and am now proceeding to write my own.

I'm really sorry that this chapter has come a week late after I made you guys wait for my vacation, but in order to make amends I'm going to try to post the next chapter as early as possible.

Chapter 36 – Mr. Woodbury

Harry surveyed the new Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix with some surprise. When he had found out it was abandoned, he had imagined some kind of dusty, dark place similar to Grimmauld Place, a place that would always be dusty no matter how much cleaning was done.

23 Godric's Hollow Street was, however, completely different. The wood floor was polished to a bright shine, the walls were impeccably a blinding white, and, in total contrast to Grimmauld Place, there was very little sound to be heard except for some far-off murmuring – no screaming portraits or evil house-elves. The whole place was full of bright colors. Harry shuddered when he realized what all this was reminding him of – Privet Drive. Still, this place seemed less manufactured and office-like than the Dursleys' house, and wasn't quite as lonely either. Interestingly enough, the whole place also conveyed an odd sense of wanting to duck – the ceilings were lower than most and there were odd paintings on the walls. It was all somewhat surreal.

Lupin, Dumbledore, Harry, and Hagrid padded into the shining house and slipped off their shoes. Dumbledore led them towards the direction of the quiet talking. They walked through a room that probably used to be a kitchen and then went to a dimly lit room with white walls and a table in the center. Two people were peering over a haphazard mess of papers spread out on the table. One of them was barely identifiable as Tonks, who had changed her hair to a long, messy mass that was black with pink streaks. The second was a man that Harry couldn't recognize. He looked to be around thirty and was wearing deep blue robes. A pair of glasses rested on the bridge of his nose with bright blue eyes that peered out from behind them, keenly. His hair was wavy and brown, and there seemed to be an efficiency and purpose in the way he moved. He looked exhausted, but despite this a certain vitality and energy emanated from him. It was hard to imagine him as weary.

The man suddenly looked up surprised, and then broke out into a smile.

"Albus, very pleased to see you here. And you too, Hagrid, and Remus? And you must be Harry." The man extended a hand and Harry shook it. "My name is Mark Woodbury, but you can just call me Mark."

"Mr. Woodbury, if you don't mind Harry. And I would remind you, Mark, that since we're trying to go and get you elected to be Minister of Magic you might hold yourself with a little more dignity."

Harry was surprised at the announcement that Mark was the person who Dumbledore would try to get elected. Ministers were generally older, as experience counted a lot in the mind of a regular adult wizard. Still, it made sense – this man was decidedly likable and had the mannerisms of one that you felt you could instinctively trust. Besides that, he obviously already held a position of some importance in the Ministry – Harry suddenly noticed that on the robe there was an embroidered badge with the words AUROR CAPTAIN in yellow. Still, it seemed odd to pick an Auror for a candidate…

"I see you're a bit surprised that I would be the selection. Well, let me tell you I've had my share of bureaucracy as well while working for the Ministry. I'm in the Law Enforcement department as well. I used to go to Hogwarts some years ago, although I was a Ravenclaw," Mark said as he turned around and started to pore over the papers. "So, Albus, what are you here for?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I need to find Ron Weasley."

The Weasleys had talked at length about the shocking new revelation of Ron being alive, with a somewhat uncomfortable Hermione lingering in the background. When hearing about it, Fred and George had quickly declared that they were going off to search for Ron, but were stopped by an adamant Mrs. Weasley. All the noise had quieted down when an angry Madame Pomfrey had appeared and berated all the Weasleys for depriving her patients of rest, but while the volume may have decreased, the intensity of the arguments certainly hadn't. Fred and George were all for going right out to Dumbledore and demanding what was going on, and they were backed by a bed-ridden Ginny, however Mrs. Weasley had forcefully told them not to several times, and to wait it out and see. Bill, Charlie, and Percy all seemed torn between whether to go with their mother or their twin brothers. Hermione was lingering in the background, feeling too involved to leave and not enough to participate.

All the talking stopped when an exhausted McGonagall appeared at the door.

"Miss Granger, would you please come with me?"

McGonagall, without waiting for an answer, turned tail and started marching out. A weary and confused Hermione followed her, leaving a bemused family of Weasleys.

"Now what was that about?" Fred remarked.

Dumbledore and Mark were still talking when McGonagall suddenly walked in with Hermione behind her.

"Albus, Mr. Malfoy just gave me a report."

"And?"

"He told me that You-Know-Who asked about a prophecy about someone named Sterling."

Dumbledore looked alarmed.

"So he had the prophecy?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore turned his head toward a bewildered Hermione.

"Then I'm afraid Miss Granger is going to have to be put under some protective measures."

"What? What are you talking about?" Hermione burst out.

"Harry, if you could please explain," Dumbledore said, and turned around to speak to Mark again.

Ron followed his memories, vague flashes leading him to dark places in the forest. His swirling black eyes were half-shut and fluttering, barely helping him at all, his footsteps often bringing him perilously close to another one of the trees in the shadowy forest. This mark – that tree – this clearing – jogged his memory, as vague shapes and shadows fluttered in his mind. Finally he came to a small clearing in the packed, leafy foliage of the forest. In the center was a cauldron. An empty set of robes that was much shorter and wider than Ron's lay on the floor, dirty with leaves and dust. An abandoned wand lay on the floor that wasn't his, although it looked like it came from Ollivander's.

"Clues…why am I alive?" Ron muttered under his breath, bending towards the ground. Soft footprints were in the dirty mud floor that were obviously not very old. Ron put his foot up to the print, but it was much smaller than his foot. He found another set of footprints leading outwards from the cauldron, and they matched his footprint size.

The signs were clear, though. Someone other than him had been here, and they were the reason he was alive. The question was, where were they now?