Title: Code of the Griffin
Author: Knife Hand
Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated
Spoilers: Nothing Specific, general for first few books.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione, or Luna, or Ginny, or Cho, or... I would buy them all but I am broke.
Summary: From a war ravaged future, someone is sent back in time to change the course of the war.
A/N: there have been some comments that the Order rarely uses Magic in combat. As I stated earlier in the story, in another A/N I believe, Magic is good defensively while guns are better offensively. So far in the story we have yet to see the Order on the defensive. They have always been attacking.
"Firstly I wanted to thank you for coming." Harry said to the small collection of Order members that were sitting in the smaller briefing room, just off the Gym in the Chest.
There were only five other people in the room. Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Michelle Waters, Kate West-Potter and Samantha Skinner, the Private that had lost part of her leg in the World Cup battle. They were the ones with the deepest scars from joining the Order, be they physical or mental. They were the damaged ones.
"I had a session with Doc Wallace and she gave me something that I found has helped. It is a Victorian Poem called Invictus." Harry said, before he began to read the poem in a slow and deliberate pace.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as a pit from pole to pole…
I thank whatever Gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud…
Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears,
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years,
Finds and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the Gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll…
I am the Master of my Fate,
I am the Captain of my Soul.
There was silence for a few moments after Harry finished the poem as the others all contemplated what the words meant to them. After a few minutes of letting them process the poem, Harry spoke again.
"There is no rank when we are here. If anyone wants to speak about their experiences, their recovery or their emotions we are here to listen. Like the sessions with Doc Wallace, nothing goes beyond this room." Harry said before sitting back down.
Samantha Skinner got up and began talking about the phantom pains she had in her prosthetic leg and the trouble she had gone through learning to walk again when she had first gotten the prostheses.
Harry knew this was not exactly what The Grand Marshall had been talking about when she had spoken to the Originals about building new traditions for the Order, but the idea for this support group had come to Harry out of what they had discussed that day and some comments made by Doc Wallace. Being one of the ones who had suffered in the line of duty with the Order, the tradition Harry wanted to establish was one of caring and understanding. A place for wounded and traumatised Order members to air their fears, worries and hopes without being judged and without the separation of rank.
Samantha Skinner finished speaking and sat back down, only to be replaced by Michelle Waters, who began talking about the confrontation with the older students who had assaulted her and Luna.
Dedalus Diggle was on his way back to his house from his naughty little secret. To all appearances he was an upstanding, if slightly excitable, member of Magical Society and a dedicated servant of the Light. He had fought against He Who Must Not Be Named in the Blood War as a member of the Order of the Phoenix under Dumbledore. He was not a blood supremacist. No, you could possibly go so far as to say that Dedalus Diggle loved Muggles. Especially little girls between the ages of six and ten. He considered it both a sickness and his little reward. It was a reward in that he enjoyed it so much; and a sickness in that he could not stop and the things that he needed to do to ensure he continued to enjoy his little pleasures.
This little pleasure had not lasted long, in fact much shorter than most, but he was satisfied for now. He had locked up his little play house and was now headed back to his home. His play house was in Muggle London, for better access to his 'toys' but he lived in a Magical neighbourhood. Diagon Alley was not the only Magical area in London and most did not require you to go through a Magical establishment like the Leaky Cauldron to get there.
The entrance to his neighbourhood looked to Muggles like a boarded up alleyway. To a Wizard it was a comforting and welcoming street lined with charming gas lamps. The first section of the street had no windows as it was composed of the sides of the Muggle buildings that flanked the street.
A moment after he stepped past the Muggle Repelling Ward, he felt a tug at his chest and noticed a splash of red on the ground in front of him. His legs buckled and he fell onto his face, but Dedalus Diggle was dead before his knees even touched the ground. With all of the magical means of travel, it would be over a day before his body was discovered. Authorities would eventually conclude that the cause of death was a 'small focused Bombarda curse' delivered to the back of the chest from close range by 'dark witches or wizards unknown'. None of the investigators even noticed the deformed chunk of metal embedded in the paving stones fifty feet down the street from the body. A chunk of metal that had once been a high powered Sniper Rifle bullet.
Harry did not bother to knock as he walked into Hermione's private study in her Ruling Lady's Quarters. It was partly because he wanted to surprise Hermione, but mostly it was because he had a tray of food in each hand.
"Hey, Hermione." He said as he walked in. "I brought you some dinner."
Hermione was technically the on duty Watch Officer for tonight, though Neville was also on duty so he would take care of almost any situation that came up without having to refer it on to Hermione. It still meant that she had to be easily locatable and she found it simpler to operate out of her study here than from her quarters in The Chest. Here she could do homework, Order paperwork or manage the far-flung Gryffindor House holdings.
"I figured you could take a break and we could eat together." Harry explained, which got a smile from Hermione. "It's nothing special. The House Elves wouldn't let me cook in the Kitchens."
That being said, Hermione's tray was filled with her preferred selection of Hogwarts fare. Harry placed his own tray down on the table across from Hermione; quickly moved a few documents in front of her to one side and placed her tray down before sitting in the other chair.
"So… what did you want to talk about?" Hermione asked, taking a bite of the food from her tray.
"Well." Harry said, scratching the back of his head. "I really don't know. I just figured it would be nice to spend some time together and share a meal without it being a big date or in the company of the entire school."
Hermione grinned at his honesty and reached across the table to pat his hand.
"That's sweet Harry. I do appreciate the effort." She said. "So how are things with you and Kate? Adjusting well? And I don't mean as CO and XO, I mean as your sister."
"Yeah, I think we are." Harry replied. "We both still get nightmares sometimes, but I think we are starting to cope. I feels a bit weird sometimes, the thought of having a sister, even an adopted one. I guess I am just not used to family who actually like me."
"Tell me about it?" Hermione asked.
For the next hour, Hermione was able to forget about the work piled up in front of her. Forget the threat of Flamel and his organisation. Even forget what she had asked Li and Larks to do. She just sat back and listened as Harry spoke about Kate, his hopes for more time to spend with Sirius, excitement about Sirius' upcoming wedding, Ron and Fleur's budding romance and all the other little, human things that made him excited or happy. The kinds of things he did not share easily, probably only with Doc Wallace, Kate, Luna and herself. For that hour he was not The Boy Who Lived, or The Lieutenant, or the survivor, he was just simply Harry. The one thing he had always wanted and so few people ever let him be. Just himself.
TBC…