That was incredibly fast, even for me. I hope you like it – it was a lot of fun to write. Turns out, I love to write perspective jumping.
When they reassemble in the sitting room, the murmur of excitement can't be contained. Especially not when Hatake steps into the room, looking for all the world to see like a particularly eccentric but perfectly regular wizard. A scar runs across his right eye, ragged and deep; the other one crinkles at Sirius in good humor. He can't wait to see how this will play out.
In the corner Snape is commandeering a two-seater all by himself, looking sullen when the very same eye crinkle sways in his direction. Minerva, too, looks tense. Their mood spills over into the rest of the group without any trying. There's a nervous smile on Dora Tonks' face; Kingsley shifts uncomfortably. Mundungus is slowly inching towards the door. Sirius gleefully settles back into his chair, waiting for Albus to continue as if the entire thing were a particularly engaging play. This is the most action he's had in weeks.
"To my great relief," Albus announces as soon as the door swings close and everyone takes a wary seat, "I have been able to secure us assistance. I'm certain one or two of you have come across the term 'ninja' during their studies – whether at Hogwarts or at the Ministry." He inclines his head towards Kingsley, who nods back carefully, eyes now fixed on the strange newcomer. "In my younger years I have been fortunate enough to become acquainted with Mr. Hatake's superior. It has never seemed … prudent before to involve them, despite our heavy losses, and in my darker hours I regret that decision very much. But now, I'm afraid, the time has come to reach out for help. Mr. Hatake has come highly recommended."
The Order's looks range from grim defeat to confusion and occasional flashes of fear from those more familiar with the term 'ninja'.
"Wait a second," Dora quips up. "I know that a ninja is supposed to be … a killer, right?" She directs the tentative question towards Hatake, who inclines his head in vague agreement. Dora winces minutely, as if she secretly hoped he'd deny it. Molly Weasley buries her face in her hands. "All right, so I understand why you wouldn't want to involve them – there are more than one, aren't there? If You-know-who" – and here Albus shoots her a slightly disapproving look – "Voldemort. If Voldemort knew they exist, he'd surely have hired some too. But what exactly are we doing with just one? And what changed – why ask for help now?"
The headmaster nods enthusiastically. "A very good question, Nymphadora," he endorses, ever the teacher. "The answer is simple: Voldemort will not know about him. Mr. Hatake will be the ace in our sleeves. Not our … killer, but our tactician." He lays a soothing hand on Molly's shoulder. "Our principles are what sets us apart from our enemies, Molly. I have not forgotten it, neither will I. These are desperate times, so allowances have to be made and you know how I – and everyone here – feels about Voldemort and his inner circle. But that is where it ends. We will not be them."
He gestures towards Hatake, whose eye turns flinty and hard the moment he steps into the middle of the room.
"My name," he announces in a firm voice, "is Hatake. It means nothing to you, but where I come from it means I never let a comrade die. I cannot make any promises – death is the nature of war. But if we fight this one together, be assured that I will die for you if it comes to it." His accent is light and lilting, and it makes him sound entirely strange and foreign. A shiver runs down Sirius spine the same way it did when James said those very words to him many years ago. He remembers the dim glow of the Potters' floo and his wet cloak, almost as heavy on his shoulders as their close brush with death. 'I will die for you if I have to.'
He's serious.
"But primarily," the other man continues, startling Sirius out of half-fond and painful memories, "I will be your advisor. My training included extensive study of war and battlefield strategies, subterfuge, infiltration and sabotage."
"Is that so," Snape drawls. "I have to say that does not inspire confidence." Sirius scoffs at him, ignoring the way Moody looks as if he wants to agree with the git.
"I don't want to hear that from you of all people." He bites down on the 'Snivellus' only because Hatake is a stranger and doesn't need to hear that. Before Snape can gear up for a nasty comeback, Albus lifts his hands appeasingly.
"Please. We're all friends here," he reminds them, ignoring both Snape's and Sirius' incredulous looks. Hatake is still watching them with a calculating expression on his face.
"This," he says firmly, "will have to stop." Then he turns back to the Order at large. "I can help you predict your enemies' movements and tell you how to counter them. I will help you form efficient teams and teach you how to move unseen even without magic. And, if necessary, I will show you how to extract information from an unwilling source."
"That … won't be necessary," Albus interjects. "But thank you Mr. Hatake. I hope with this we will gain the edge we need to pull ahead of Voldemort and his supporters."
"The Dark Lord will know," Snape says. "He will notice that our tactics have changed and he will want me to tell him why."
"Your Dark Lord is a mind reader, isn't he?" Hatake quips up, interested. "I can help you with that."
On that ominous note the meeting ends, because the sound of an explosion carries downstairs. Molly shoots up from her seat, face white with irrational fear. The house is under the fidelius, but they're all paranoid here. Even Dora cautiously draws her wand.
"Smoke bombs," Hatake informs them cheerily, serious demeanor all but forgotten. "Mrs. Weasley, you should probably see to your sons." Her expression immediately turns harrowed.
"Well. Excuse me then," she grinds out, smoke all but steaming out of her nose. She stomps out of the door. Not two seconds later yelling drifts into the room and Dora starts to laugh.
"Those twins," she chortles. "Got to love them."
"Oh," Kakashi muses, "I don't think it's the twins." And then he turns around and leaves the room.
"Interesting fellow, isn't he?" Dora muses, propping one foot up on the arm of Moody's chair. He knocks harshly against the sole of her shoe but she only grins at him.
"'Interesting'," he grunts. "That's not the word I'd use. His eye … the one he keeps closed. It's a strange one. Suspicious, I'd even say."
"I don't want to hear that from you," Sirius quips for the second time that evening and Dora laughs.
"He's got you there," she chirps. "What sort of eye is it?" Moody's own eye rolls wildly in its socket.
"I have no idea, girl. That's what worries me. But it's red – like a demon, I tell you."
She rolls her eyes. There are some things about her mentor that she respects dearly; his paranoia has always sort of skirted the edge. It makes him a great Auror, but he never knows when to just turn it down a few notches. She stretches, feeling suddenly tired. It's been a pretty long day for her and this meeting took more out of her than she expected. This entire ninja business still feels a bit surreal. Hatake doesn't look like much, except for when he does, and it makes her own Auror-honed instincts go haywire. She can't for the life of her gauge what sort of person he is and that makes her no less nervous than Moody, even if it won't stop her from giving the senior Auror a hard time.
"Say, Sirius, when's your friend coming back?" She tries for casual and ignores the way her cousin's eyes start to glint when it doesn't work. "I mean, does he already know about this guy?"
"Yep," he says. "He left again this morning and I'm not sure when he'll be back, but Moony thinks we should wait and see what Harry thinks." Mad-Eye scoffs, but Dora leans forward in interest.
"He good with that sort of thing?"
"Harry knows people," Sirius agrees, sounding far older than he usually does. "He's had to learn pretty quickly. Not that he realizes it, but you can trust his judgment on things like this."
Dora privately wonders how wise that is, putting so much trust in the word of a teenage boy, even if it is Harry Potter. But Albus seems to trust him equally much. She's looking forward to meeting the boy.
Hermione arrives at Grimmauld Place on a dreary afternoon. She tries not to take it as a bad omen, for one because she puts no stock into things such as divination, and then also because in London dreary afternoons are somewhat of an inevitability. The entire trip is very hush hush, which makes her parents worry a little. But Miss Jones and Mr. Shacklebolt are very nice people and the air of competence that surrounds them speaks to the academics in her dentist parents.
She kisses them good-bye with a smile, hoping they'll never know just where she's going now. They are good, brave people but Hermione knows, if they had a choice, they'd rather their daughter were a little less good and brave than them.
All nervousness is immediately dispelled when they open the door and Molly Weasley comes out of the kitchen, dragging her into a hurried but firm embrace.
"Oh dear," she sighs with feeling, "I hope they didn't frighten you with all the secrecy." She casts a dark look at the other two adults; Miss Jones – Hestia – seems amused.
"No more than necessary," she assures the older woman, swinging the cloak from her shoulders and draping it haphazardly over the coat rack.
"You know us better than that," Shacklebolt – Kingsley – chastises mildly and the Weasley matriarch nods curtly at him.
"Hermione, love, Ron is upstairs having a nap. I will wake him for tea. Ginny!"
A mop of wild red hair comes rushing down the stairs, just as a curtain whips open and someone starts to scream. "Oh dear," the woman grunts in annoyance. "Sirius! Ginny, will you show Hermione to your room. You don't mind sharing, do you? The house is … a little short on good bedrooms, I'm afraid. Sirius, your mother!" There's a scramble around what appears to be a particularly ugly portrait and Ginny leads her upstairs. Sirius passes her with a wry grin and a careless salute. Hermione snorts.
"Ignore them," Ginny advises, curling an arm through hers. "We've got a newbie and everyone's nerves are a bit frazzled."
"A newbie?" To be honest Hermione barely knows what's going on in the first place – not for a lack of trying. She's been asking incessant questions ever since Ron owled her the first time and dropped an ominous 'we moved a bit'. Apart from the question on how someone could possibly move 'a bit', it irked her most that he wouldn't tell why exactly they had to move. Of course she suspects it has to do with what happened in the graveyard last year – it would only make sense – but she quite underestimated the severity of the situation it seems. And now she'll have to be vague to Harry too.
She pities her friend a little; he's so far removed from everything at the Dursleys. Ginny steers her towards a heavy, stained oak door and tugs an equally heavy, ugly key from her pocket. She waves it at Hermione with a grin. "The only good thing about this place: spelled locks. The twins tried to pick one. I'm not sure if Fred could re-grow his eyebrow yet."
Their room is small and obviously cobbled together from two different guest rooms, Ginny's bed being a lurid purple, Hermione's Slytherin green. "Sorry about that," Ginny grins flopping down on the bed spread that clashes violently with her hair. "I thought you don't believe in cooties anyway, so I left that one for you."
Hermione unearths her shrunk bags from her pocket and throws them onto the bed.
"You're right," she says primly, "I don't believe in cooties. I still don't appreciate it, you traitor." They're nice sheets; she'll still ask someone to turn them Gryffindor red. "So what's going on? I know something about an 'Order', but nothing more. And who's the new one?"
Ginny's grin stretches from ear to ear, as if she's been dying to tell her. She sits up, folds her hands in her lap and leans forward conspiratorially.
"The Order of the Phoenix," she says with relish. "We haven't figured much out yet but these are the basics: the last time … Voldemort … was active, Professor Dumbledore led a team of wizards and witches against him – The Order of the Phoenix. That's what this is. We're in their headquarters. The place used to belong to Sirius' mum, so it's a bit … well, you saw her portrait downstairs." Ginny shrugs. "It's not so terrible right now but it's driving Sirius bonkers and he makes mum want to tear her hair out. So stay out of that if you can."
Hermione grimaces. "Poor Sirius, trading one prison for another."
"Yeah – he pretty much said he'd rather go back to eating rats. But here's where Harry will be."
Most of the time all Hermione can think of is how much she wants Voldemort gone – dead – so that Harry can live a relatively normal life. As normal as Harry can, at least. But really, what she wants most for her friend is for him and Sirius to get the chance to be a proper family. Sirius needs closure and whatever is left of his brother, and Harry needs someone who loves him like proper family. She has no doubt Molly loves him, but it's not the same, she suspects. Harry never had an adult of his own, someone who knew him as a baby and can tell him stories of how he robbed his parents of any and all sleep.
They're not even sixteen, but already Hermione can't help but draw parallels between Ron and Harry and Sirius and James. The idea makes her sick on Sirius' behalf. It has also given her a lot more patience in dealing with the man. Would that make her Professor Lupin…? Hermione shakes her head.
"And what newcomer has them all in a tizzy?"
If possible, Ginny's smug grin stretches even wider. She looks remarkably like the twins that way – like sly Fred more than mellow George – and Hermione tenses on pure reflex.
"Kakashi Hatake," the red-head says, pausing artfully to observe her older friend's reaction.
"Excuse me?" the other girl replies.
"He's a supposed to do something for us. We're not sure what, but everyone jumps at strange noises right now and the man has pretty much locked himself in his room. There was a meeting a few days ago about it and mum says he's staying. Permanently."
"His name sounds … Japanese?" Hermione ventures. "I heard of ninjas, but I thought they died out. They're supposed to be assassins."
Ginny's eyes widen briefly in worry but then she frowns. "Well, if Professor Dumbledore brought him here, I'm sure it'll be fine."
Hermione wants to agree. The headmaster always knows what he's doing. But this doesn't sit well with her.