There was no doubt Kreacher had mellowed and grown more tolerant in his years serving Harry and Padfoot, but apparently expecting him to accept Mundungus Fletcher was asking a bit much.
Kreacher had either remembered or been recently reminded that Mundungus was responsible for Greyback's murder, because he'd spent the entire evening so far trailing after Mundungus, muttering rather rude things, and ensuring that he was bodily between him and both Moony and Stella at all times. Mundungus, for his part, seemed unnerved by his ill-tempered shadow, but Harry didn't think that was an entirely bad thing; the man had been surveying the silver cutlery, crystal goblets, and - oddly enough - everything Harry touched, with a rather enterprising glint in his eye. That had not gone unnoticed by Kreacher who'd expanded his patrol to include Harry while everyone arrived, and, when the time came to sit, all but shoved Mundungus into a seat at the far end of the table, between an old man that looked uncannily like Dumbledore in certain lights, and Moody; Kreacher must have noticed Moody's magical eye had rarely left Mundungus and decided that was an appropriate place to leave him.
"Budge up," Bill said, squeezing in alongside Harry with Percy in tow. Mrs Weasley settled herself opposite them, beside Padfoot, and caught Harry's eye.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather be at ours with the others?" she asked. Hermione - who was staying with Harry these holidays - had been sent to the Burrow for the evening, not by Mrs Weasley (though she'd been a willing accomplice) but by McGonagall.
As Hermione was not of age, and didn't have a parent there to vouch for her presence, she'd had little choice but to leave to wait with Ron and Ginny; Harry would fill them in afterward. They, in turn, would fill him in on whatever they found out about merfolk in the books they'd checked out of the library after the second task.
"I'd rather be there," Harry said, "but I think I need to be here."
"Give up, Molly," Padfoot said, sounding tiredly amused, rather than annoyed; Molly had been strongly supportive of Harry accompanying Hermione to the Burrow, saying the Tournament was enough for him to have to worry about this year, and Harry knew Padfoot agreed (though he hadn't argued when Harry said he was staying). She and Padfoot shared a commiserative look, and then she smiled rather sadly and leaned forward to offer Harry the plate of shortbread she'd brought along. Harry, recognising it as a peace offering, took one with a grateful smile.
"Brilliant," Charlie said, sounding altogether too much like Ron, as he wedged himself in between Percy and Robards and lunged for the biscuits.
Someone cleared their throat and Harry turned to see two women and a man hovering behind him. He couldn't help himself; he glanced at Padfoot.
"Emmeline Vance," Padfoot said, nodding at the taller, rather elegant looking witch.
"It's lovely to meet you," she said.
"And this is Bean-"
"Sturgis Podmore," Podmore said, rolling his eyes in a long-suffering sort of way. He was a blond man with neat facial hair, and he offered Harry his hand. Harry shook it. "We've actually met before, sort of… in the lead up to Sirius' trial."
"Oh," Harry said, looking him over again. He didn't think he remembered him, but he'd met a lot of people back then, and he'd been much younger.
"He was one of the people looking into whether Petunia's transfer of custody would hold," Padfoot said cheerfully. Podmore grimaced, then brightened at the sight of Marlene, who nodded a greeting and settled on Padfoot's other side. Padfoot twitched, and Harry suspected Marlene might have kicked or pinched him as a reminder to behave.
"I'm Hestia," the third and youngest witch said. She was short, and dark haired with round cheeks. She held out her hand, and Harry shook it. "For sake of getting it out of the way now, I'm a big fan," she said. Her eyes flicked to Harry's scar, then back to his face. "You've been incredible in the Tournament so far, and then there's the whole defeating You-Know-Who as a baby thing… Brilliant!"
Harry had no idea what to say to that so he forced a smile. Jones beamed back. Thankfully, Bill came to his rescue then, offering up Mrs Weasley's biscuits. "Oh, fantastic," Jones said, snagging two. She waved them at Harry and moved further down, introducing herself and calling out further greetings to other people as she went.
Harry let out a gusty breath, feeling rather overwhelmed.
"Harry?"
Harry spun again and blinked. Mrs Figg smiled back at him. She had more lines on her face and he thought that was a different handbag than the one she'd had when he'd last seen her - though it still appeared to contain at least two tins of cat food. The cat hair all over her was the same as ever. "I'm not sure if you remember me..."
"Mrs Figg," he said, surprised, and she smiled.
"It's good to see you," she said. "And so tall now!" He was almost taller than she was and he was sitting down. She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, then dug about in her bag and pulled out a slightly crumpled bit of paper.
Harry glanced at it and smiled, recognising Dudley's handwriting.
"Thanks," he said, and she gave his hand another squeeze and shuffled off to sit with Elphias Doge, who Harry had met earlier.
Dumbledore straightened in his chair and Padfoot - likely for Harry's benefit - murmured, "Here we go…"
"Welcome," Dumbledore said, in the calm, loud voice he used to get students' attention at dinner at Hogwarts. It had the same effect here; everyone quietened and Dumbledore continued at a more normal volume. "Thank you all for coming, and thank you Sirius, Harry, and Kreacher, for your hospitality." Kreacher gave Dumbledore an approving look. "We welcome Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, Miss Hestia Jones, and Mr Harry Potter to their first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix." Harry was incredibly glad Dumbledore had lumped him in with the other two, but was sure the whispers that raced around the kitchen had more to do with him than with Shacklebolt or Hestia. "Auror Shacklebolt - as his title suggests - joins us from the Ministry under recommendation by Amelia, Nymphadora, and Alastor. Many of you will have seen Miss Jones around the wizarding world - Mundungus and I have both vouched for her suitability." Harry glanced down the table at Hestia, curious.
"I'd also like to thank Messrs Bill and Charlie Weasley for prolonging their respective visits to ensure they were able to be here today." He inclined his head in their direction. "If there are no other preliminary matters, I'll hand over to-"
"Sorry, Headmaster," Amelia Bones said, giving him a little wave, "But the boy? Sorry, Potter," she added, with a short nod in his direction, as if to apologise for talking about him rather than to him. "Obviously he is who he is, but he's underage-"
"He's here with his guardian's permission," Dumbledore said calmly.
"Because Black's so responsible…" Podmore muttered.
"That's Professor Black to you," Padfoot said, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes, and if Skeeter's to be believed, Merlin help-"
"Surely you're too smart to be reading Skeeter's rubb-"
"Enough," Marlene said sharply and both men shut their mouths.
McGonagall spoke into the silence:
"If we're voicing our concerns," she said, giving Harry a look that was somehow apologetic without actually being sorry, "I feel I should mention that while I don't object to Mr Potter's presence in these meetings, I think the timing leaves something to be desired; he has quite enough on his plate without having to worry about what goes on here as well." Mrs Weasley gave a small nod.
"Quite right!" Elphias Doge said.
From across the table, Padfoot grimaced at Harry.
"Harry is also here with my permission," Dumbledore said. His voice was quiet, conversational, but no one objected.
"I'll preempt the next obvious objection, shall I?" Dora said. "Remus and I have given Stella our permission to attend, too." Stella blew bubbles and tried to grab at a button on Mr Weasley's robes, and a few people chuckled, breaking the tension. Dora caught Harry's eye and winked.
"Thank you, Mrs Lupin," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "Severus."
Snape stood.
"Just as we are expanding our ranks," he said, "so too is the Dark Lord."
"I thought you'd fallen out of favour with your Lord," Moody said suspiciously.
"Alastor," Dumbledore said quietly but firmly. Snape, though, was undaunted, and met Moody's mismatched stare across the kitchen.
"As I've told you at our previous meetings, he believes the loss of my leg and my years at Hogwarts under Dumbledore's scrutiny may have swayed my allegiances-"
And he'd be right, Harry thought.
"-but I have other connections on that side that do not share his doubts. My information is valid, I assure you." Moody grunted and settled back into his seat. Several other people around the table shifted, and Harry surmised Snape wasn't especially well liked - or trusted - even here.
"Do you have names?" Bones asked.
"Some," Snape said. "Thorfinn Rowle and Lawrence Gibbon." Harry blinked, recognising the names; both Rowle and Gibbon had been a few years above him, though he'd never had much to do with either. Gryffindors; Gibbon had been a Prefect. At their names, Moony had sat up a little straighter, and McGonagall had made a soft, distressed sound. Percy was pale with shock. "They graduated a few years back," Snape said. "Former Gryffindors." Despite the serious nature of the conversation, Snape sounded just the tiniest bit smug about that, but only temporarily: "Phoebe Daunce, and Solomon Jugson - both former Slytherins."
Though it was clearly not news to Dumbledore, he had his eyes closed and looked very, very tired.
"Are they Marked?" Shacklebolt asked.
"Unlikely," Snape said. The Aurors in the room seemed to slump; if they didn't have a Dark Mark, their involvement with Voldemort would be that much harder to prove.
"What can you tell us about them?" Robards asked.
"Jugson's ambitious," Snape said, "but lacks patience so he takes big risks for big perceived rewards. Consistently 'acceptable' student. I haven't heard what he was doing last year-"
"He works odd jobs," Hestia chimed in. "I did a few shifts with him at the Leaky, and he was on the Knight Bus roster for a bit there, too."
"Daunce was a quiet achiever, but well-connected," Snape said. "She took a position with the Department of International Cooperation when she graduated, and I daresay the Dark Lord will be using her networks to his full advantage."
"Minerva?" Bones asked.
"Rowle's impulsive," McGonagall said, rather thickly, "and what he lacks in magical finesse he makes up for with magical power. As a boy he had a tendency to be a bit cruel-" Percy snorted at that. "-but I'd thought he'd grown out of it." She sighed. "And Gibbon was capable if unremarkable. A nice boy, optimistic, but the most influenceable person I've ever met - could never see a bad decision for what it was until he was the one left holding the guilty wand or whatever it was he'd been encouraged to 'borrow'..." She pursed her lips, then sighed again.
"Anything else, Severus?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"Where he has gained supporters, he has also lost one; I am now certain that unless he is confronted by the Dark Lord himself, Igor Karkaroff will attempt to flee, or seek our protection."
"Will we offer it?" Doge asked.
"We won't approach him," Bones said. "But if he approaches us, we'll do what we can. Scrimgeour has his eyes open, thank Merlin, but the rest of the Ministry is deluding itself; they can't pretend there's nothing going on, not after the World Cup, but the running theory is that there's a dark witch or wizard out there trying to imitate You Know Who-"
"Have they considered that it could just be the real thing?" Vance asked, resting her chin in her hands.
"Cornelius is adamant that's not possible," Bones said tiredly.
"How can he say it's not possible?" Harry blurted, and suddenly the weight of everyone's eyes was on him. "It's not like we're lacking proof - look at the Stone, and the Chamber, and Wormtail, and Crouch, and Polkov, and-"
"He will not allow himself to be convinced," Dumbledore said.
"Because he doesn't want to believe it, or because he's under pressure not to?" Harry asked, looking between Dumbledore and Padfoot.
"That's the question, isn't it," Podmore murmured, giving Harry a thoughtful look.
"We're reasonably confident it's the former," Dumbledore said. "But we have digressed, once again. Severus?"
"I only have one other matter." Snape withdrew a bit of parchment from his robes and tossed it across the table to Padfoot.
"Is this a new list?" Padfoot asked. "Because it looks awfully familiar…" He passed it across to Robards, who scanned it, eyebrows drawing together.
"It's a list made two days ago; someone on it supplied their memory of the task to the Dark Lord so that he could watch it." Harry stared at him, and then at Padfoot; it had been a memory, not Voldemort discovering how to manipulate the timing of what Harry saw. "Do with it what you will." Snape backed away from the table, going to linger in the shadowy corner by the fireplace, apparently done.
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Matthew?"
Matt stood from where he'd been seated by Dora.
"Macnair visited again last week," he said tiredly. "This time Pettigrew was with him-"
"What?!" Padfoot asked sharply. Moony looked unhappy but unsurprised, so Matt must have had time to mention it to him before the meeting started.
"Yeah," Matt said. "He was... pretty well received, honestly."
"Hard not to be, when you compare him to Macnair the executioner," Padfoot muttered. Hagrid gave a grunt of agreement.
"He made a lovely little speech about how he used to be best friends with one of our kind." Matt looked to Moony. "He said when you picked this side, you picked wizards, and that you don't care what happens to us as long as you can keep pretending you're human-"
"No," Padfoot said, pointing at Moony, who'd opened his mouth, "to whatever self-deprecating nonsense you're about to say." Moony snorted and bounced Stella on his knee instead. "Matt, did they say what they actually want?"
"For us to join them in the fight for a better world. To pick up Greyback's cause again. The usual."
"And...?" Dora asked, biting her lip.
"Most of the camp's on board. No official agreements or pledges of support or anything, but it's only a matter of time." Matt hesitated, then, carefully, said, "Headmaster, we'll need to discuss Greentooth and Silverear after this meeting."
"Discuss who?" Hestia asked curiously. Matt glanced at her but said nothing. Dumbledore inclined his head.
"Are you safe?" Dora asked into the wary silence that followed.
"Safe enough," Matt said, shrugging. "They know we're close-" He nodded at Moony. "-but Richard and Nancy are convinced I'd side with them over you these days. Even Deb's starting to come around."
"What about Macnair and Pettigrew?" Padfoot asked.
"I'm no one to them. And if they decide they need my name, I'm a Rosier." He shrugged. "For all they know I take more after my uncle than my dad."
"But if Debbie, or Richard, or Nancy mention my name to them, to Peter, in association with yours-"
"They won't, Remus," Matt said. "You know what they're like. They like to put up a united front, especially when they're dealing with wizards. If they've got issues with me, they'll deal with them within the pack."
An uneasy silence followed that; Moony and Matt seemed to hold an entire conversation with their eyes and there were a number of glances passed between other Order members. While everyone was obviously comfortable with Moony and Matt, it was clear to Harry that they weren't all comfortable with werewolves overall; Hestia and Shacklebolt in particular seemed uneasy.
"I'll go next, shall I?" Moody said gruffly. Dumbledore waved a hand in invitation. "Nice short item for the new members and for the old ones that haven't taken me up on it yet - we're holding training sessions on dates with a three in them, at the old duelling hall in Hogsmeade." Moody's eye swivelled around, stern. "Some of us haven't duelled for a long time, others of us haven't properly duelled ever and then there's apparition and patronuses and all that to cover too. We saw at the World Cup that the Death Eaters haven't been idle and I don't want anyone ending up dead because they weren't prepared. So: dates with a three. Training. Hogsmeade."
"Constant vigilance," Dora added, and winked at Moody when he gave her a withering look.
"Don't encourage him," Doge muttered.
"Thank you, Alastor," Dumbledore said, beard twitching, then, more seriously: "I would strongly encourage you all to find the time to take Alastor up on his offer." Moody grunted. "Amelia?"
"Nothing much from me," she said. "Other than to ask if you're expecting to need an Order presence tomorrow night."
"I do not expect to need one, no," Dumbledore said. "Happily, though, almost half of our number shall be in attendance anyway, either as an Auror on duty-" He nodded to Marlene. "-or as a staff member at one of the competing schools." This time, he looked to Padfoot, Moony, Snape, McGonagall, and Hagrid.
"Or a partner of one of them," Dora said.
"Or as a Champion," Hestia said, pointing at Harry.
"Indeed," Dumbledore said, giving Harry a small smile.
"Are we any closer to working out how You Know Who plans to use the Tournament, Headmaster?" Vance asked after several moments of quiet. "Other than maybe hoping Potter will be knocked off in one of the tasks?" She glanced at Harry. "Sorry."
"That's not what he wants," Harry said. He looked to Dumbledore who didn't look at all bothered that Harry had answered a question addressed to him. In fact, he gave a small nod that Harry took as permission to elaborate. "Sorry- I mean, he does want me dead, but he wants to be the one to do it."
"Dead's dead, though," Podmore said, looking a bit disturbed.
"Not to Voldemort," Harry said, and the table erupted with hisses and squawks, shook from flinches and shudders. Harry stared around the kitchen, surprised by the reactions. "What does the Order do, sir?" he asked Dumbledore quietly, while everyone else recovered.
"That, lad, is a question you should've known the answer to before you were allowed here today," the old man that looked a bit like Dumbledore said.
"We are an independent opposition to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, Harry," Dumbledore said. "We are soldiers, and we are spies, but above all, we are protectors."
"That's what I thought," Harry said, casting another uncertain look around the table; Dumbledore's use of Voldemort's name had set everyone off again. He knew the wizarding world was uncomfortable with the name, but these were people that had signed up to actively oppose him… They needed people like this, people that were prepared to stand up against Voldemort, but if they couldn't even stand to hear the name… Harry's eyes met Padfoot's, then Moony's; both seemed to know what he was thinking and looked grimly amused.
"We've got sidetracked - what does he want from the Tournament, if it's not Potter's death?" Vance asked.
"To prove his influence," Snape said, with a tinge of impatience, "-and his power-"
"That's it?" Mundungus asked, blinking. The look he received in return was Neville-in-Potions-level scathing, and he put up his hands as if in defence. "Just seems like an awful lot of effort to prove a point…"
"I'd say the subtleties were lost on you, but there's nothing subtle about this, which means you have even less of an excuse," Snape said. Harry got the impression he wasn't only speaking to Mundungus.
"There's no need to be rude, Snape," Bones said. "I appreciate You Know Who's putting on a show to reassure old followers and attract new ones, but it is a lot of effort. The attack at the World Cup likely did more for his cause than the Tournament-"
"Wrong," Snape said, almost boredly.
"Would you care to explain then?" Podmore asked irritably. Several people made noises of agreement. "Rather than just make snide and unhelpful comments-"
"Not especially - it seems to me there's little point in doing so." Dumbledore cleared his throat and Snape's expression soured. "Very well." He straightened in his chair. "I'll keep it simple, shall I, so you can all follow along?" The man that looked a bit like Dumbledore snorted.
"Headmaster," Vance complained.
"I thought I'd have a night off making children play nicely with each other when we left ours at home," Mrs Weasley said, tone somehow both conversational and pointed.
"Likewise in getting away from the school," McGongagall said, unimpressed.
"I don't see quibbling," Moody said. "I see information that could be of use to the Order being withheld, and deliberate needling of other members to sow dissent within our ranks-"
"'S jus' Snape tryin' ter get a rise," Hagrid said, waving an enormous hand. "'S'not sabotage or nothin'."
"Thank you, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, looking amused. Harry noticed a small smile on Padfoot's face too. "If we could stay on track… Severus."
"Headmaster," Snape said curtly. "The Dark Lord's sympathisers look at Potter in the Tournament and see their Lord's influence going unopposed, see Potter at risk simply because the Dark Lord has willed it so. The general wizarding public are distracted by the Tournament and the rubbish in the Prophet, oblivious. They're uncertain about how exactly, Potter came to be a competitor, but have gradually been won over by his reckless heroics and general habit of making a spectacle of himself. They have, for the most part, united themselves behind him, and the Dark Lord will-" Snape paused momentarily, frowning. "-use that; if he defeats their Champion, he likely believes he will become their Champion."
And dishearten everyone enough to pre-emptively quash any resistance, Harry thought. Snape glanced at him then, fleetingly and open - Harry could see consideration and concern - and then away again so quickly that Harry wondered if he'd imagined it.
"And those that are less - if only marginally less - oblivious-" Snape made a dismissive gesture around the table. "-are, for the most part, busy wasting time wondering about his motives."
"Understanding motives are important," Shacklebolt said calmly. "Know thy enemy."
"The Dark Lord wields mystery and fear and chaos as easily and skillfully as he wields magic," Snape said. "All three of those things are simple to warp or enhance through stories and rumours-"
"Is there a point, here, Snape," Moody barked, "or are you just here to wax rhapsodic about your-"
"The point is that understanding the Dark Lord is beyond each and every one of you until you've spent time with him somewhere other than across a battlefield. It is not something you learn, but rather something that you come to know. Speculation about his motives serve little purpose; he is as subtle as he is obvious, as predictable as he is surprising, and above all, he is cleverer than you."
Moody gave a begrudging little grunt at that.
"Fine," Bill said evenly. "So we give up on trying to understand him… Then what?"
"You do what those of us that do understand him tell you to," Snape said, and immediately lost all the progress he'd made; his comment was met with scowls and rolled eyes and - in the man who looked like Dumbledore's case - a scoffed, "Us".
"Why are you here, Snape?" Bones asked. "You've been rude and sarcastic from the first moment of the first meeting and not improved even slightly since." Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who was watching intently from his seat, but making no move to interfere. "In fact, I think you're getting more unpleasant. The Order's voluntary, so you're not being forced to attend."
"I'm here to provide you with information about the Dark Lord and his followers," Snape said, "in the hope that that information will contribute to their eventual defeat."
"You're not, though," Podmore said. "Because we just asked for information and you didn't want to share-"
"Apologies," Snape said, not sounding very sorry at all, "I misspoke: I'm here to provide you with relevant information."
"I think information about You Know Who's motives is relevant!" Hestia said.
"Not to you."
"That's not for you to decide," Vance said sharply.
"What benefit is there for you to understand the Dark Lord?" Snape asked the room at large. "Should you have the misfortune to find yourself staring down your wand at him, it will be luck or numbers that save you, not understanding." He arched an eyebrow, as if daring anyone to disagree. "By all means study those that follow him, learn how they think, which spells they favour, or what words you might say to convert them from his side to ours. That is within your scope. The Dark Lord is not. None of you are here because you're going to be the one to overcome him, you're here to ensure that - when the time comes - he stands alone. And you're here to ensure that someone who does have a chance of defeating him isn't caught in the back by a wayward killing curse, or kept from the real fight by the Dark Lord's supporters. You are shields and you are distractions, and if you think otherwise, you're deluding yourselves."
Peripherally, Harry could see Padfoot trying to catch his eye, but he kept his focus on the wooden grain of the table, not because he was trying to avoid Padfoot, but because he couldn't bring himself to look at anyone else after what Snape had just said.
Snape was right. In a very scathing and Snape-ish way, but right nonetheless; none of these people would be the ones to defeat Voldemort. That was reserved for Harry, and Harry alone, and they would fight to give him the chance to do so. But where Harry struggled with that - because how many of them would fight to give him that chance and lose, would fight and die? - most people around the table were shrugging and nodding, not just conceding Snape's point, but actively, knowingly, agreeing with it.
It was a lot. It-
"I find myself in need of the bathroom," Dumbledore said abruptly, standing.
"Kreacher can show-" But before Kreacher could finish his offer, Dumbledore continued:
"Harry, would you be so kind as to show me the way?"
Harry nodded, stood, and squeezed through everyone; he heard Dumbledore ask Robards and Marlene to provide the room with an Auror update in his absence, then followed Harry upstairs.
"It's this way, sir." Harry gestured to the main staircase. Dumbledore simply hummed, examining a photo on the wall; it was of Moony, Padfoot, and Harry's parents at their wedding. It occurred to Harry then that Dumbledore might not need the bathroom after all. "Sir?"
"Harry?" Dumbledore replied, in the same tone, moving onto the next photo; this one was of Harry's grandparents, Padfoot, and James.
"You didn't stop Snape from-"
"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore said mildly, but waved a hand; the walls flashed silencing-charm-purple.
"You let him say- all that." Because Dumbledore hadn't interrupted once downstairs. "You- do you agree?"
"Do you disagree?" Dumbledore asked. Harry shook his head, slowly, uncomfortably.
"But to call them shields and distractions-"
"A crude way for Severus to phrase it, but-" Dumbledore sighed. "-not entirely incorrect."
"And they're all okay with that. They were all nodding. And you're okay with asking them to be okay with that, but I can't ask- I don't want any of them to get hurt or- or die because of me." Harry glanced at the photographs. "My parents already... I can't. I won't."
"Peace, dear boy," Dumbledore said, with painful understanding on his face. He reached out and put a hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry took a deep breath in, forcing himself to calm down. "You have not asked them to do anything."
"No, but you have, or they've volunteered, or whatever, but it's still on me-"
"No, Harry-"
"Yes. It's- the prophecy…"
"The prophecy," Dumbledore sighed. "I fear you would always have seemed too young to tell, but I truly think Sirius ought to have waited a few more years." He sighed again. "But that's beside the point for now… What is the point here, is that the people downstairs don't fight for the prophecy - or by extension, you - because they don't know it exists."
"They- at all?"
"At all," Dumbledore said. "Indeed, the majority of them have been a part of the Order since its conception - a number of years before the prophecy was even made."
"I- right."
"Why do you fight Voldemort, Harry?"
"Because the prophecy-"
"So you mean to say that if there were no prophecy, you'd no longer oppose him?" Dumbledore cocked his head.
"What? No, of course I would!" Harry said. "He killed my parents-"
"Ah, so it's revenge?" Dumbledore said, nodding.
"No, it's- he's wrong, and what he wants is wrong. He hurts people and ruins families and he can't- the world he wants isn't the one I want." Dumbledore smiled.
"And you would risk harm or even death to stop him from creating that world?"
"Of course I would," Harry said; it was an honest answer, but he wasn't sure it would be what Dumbledore wanted to hear.
"So is it truly so difficult to believe that others might do the same? I saw your face when Severus finished speaking, saw your horror. I know opposing Voldemort is a very personal thing to you - for a number of reasons - but you are not the only one for whom that is true." Dumbledore's voice was gentle.
"No, I- I know that," Harry said, and did, but it had been a long time since he thought of it that way, "but it's good to be reminded that it's not just me fighting, or people fighting because of me. That it's... bigger." Dumbledore smiled.
"I confess, that's the main reason I allowed you to attend this evening," Dumbledore said.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, frowning.
Dumbledore smiled slightly and said, "You will not want to hear this, I suspect, but I am very much in agreement with those that believe you have quite enough to deal with at the moment without adding the Order of the Phoenix." Harry wasn't sure what his face looked like, but Dumbledore's smile widened. "It is in no way a reflection of your ability to handle it. It is simply that we have failed to protect you yet again this year, and we find ourselves wishing for smaller victories; namely, to try not to burden you with more than is absolutely necessary."
"Being here was necessary," Harry said.
"Yes," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "But more, I think, because it has provided us with the opportunity to have this conversation than because of anything you have learned about resisting Voldemort."
"Maybe," Harry conceded; he felt lighter than he had in some time, felt more hopeful. He cocked his head. "Hang on… does that mean I can't come next time?"
"Not at all," Dumbledore said. "But I daresay you shall come with a different perspective. And that future meetings shall serve as reminders that you are not alone."
"Is that what they are for you as well?" Harry asked. Dumbledore's eyebrows rose, and it occurred to Harry that was a rather personal question. "Sorry-"
"Yes. Amongst other things," Dumbledore said. Harry wanted to ask but didn't quite dare. Dumbledore's beard twitched. "For instance, that there are good, brave people in the world."
That was a nice thing to be reminded of. Harry nodded and he and Dumbledore lapsed into silence. Harry was running through everything they'd talked about, and Dumbledore appeared to have gone back to looking at the photographs on the walls, but Harry suspected he was waiting to see if Harry had any more questions.
"Sir," Harry said after a moment. "If they don't know about the prophecy, then they don't know how he can be beaten..."
"Ah, but they also don't know that there is only - apparently - a specific way for him to be beaten." Dumbledore smoothed his beard. "Knowing the prophecy does, perhaps, change the way we fight, but it does not change that we do. That they do."
"But shouldn't they know?" Harry asked. "If they're willing to fight regardless-"
"No," Dumbledore said. "To use Professor Snape's phrasing, this is once again an instance where it is not their place to know, but rather to follow the lead of those of us that do."
"Why, though?" Harry asked. "They don't need details, but we could give them the gist… Do you not trust them?" Surely that wasn't it, if Dumbledore thought they were all good, brave people.
"I trust them with my life," Dumbledore said quietly, "but not with yours."
"Mine?" Harry blinked, confused.
"Do you trust them? These people that you've just met?"
"I- you do," Harry said.
"Flattering as your faith in me is, Harry, I fear you once again place too much trust in my judgement," Dumbledore said, but this time his smile was sad. Harry found himself thinking of Padfoot and his time in Azkaban, of Snape who was on their side but not - at least in Harry's opinion - necessarily good. "I have no desire to see you in a position where you would be pressured into fulfilling the prophecy in a particular way, or before you are ready to, or where you might be forced to shoulder the blame for an injury because you have not fulfilled it."
"I- I don't really think other people are the problem, there," Harry said uncomfortably.
"Perhaps not," Dumbledore sighed, scent sad, and knowing. "But allow an old man to take a small victory in protecting you from something, even if he cannot protect you from everything." His voice was heavy, and Harry knew - despite almost phrasing it as a favour - this was not something he would compromise on.
"Yes, sir," Harry said, and Dumbledore nodded, considering him for a few long moments before nodding once more. Harry waited, but Dumbledore didn't say anything else and Harry didn't think he was waiting for Harry to speak anymore, so he gestured to the stairs: "Should we…?"
"Yes, you'd best head back down," Dumbledore said.
"What about you?"
"I shall follow in another minute or two." Dumbledore's scent turned amused. "You see, I am certain most of them have assumed I wished to speak with you privately, but because I did not say that was what we were doing, we must now make the effort to keep my excuse to leave the room with you plausible so that it is not an insult to their intelligence. In return, they will attempt to spare our feelings by allowing us to believe we were successful and subtle in our deception." Harry blinked and Dumbledore clicked his fingers - the walls shimmered as he removed the silencing charm - and waved Harry back toward the stairs.
