A/N: Oh, things are moving forward, that's for sure... Thank you all for the wonderful feedback!
A shriek in the kitchen and the sound of breaking glass startled Ginny Weasley from her reading, even as a parchment appeared before her, nearly crashing into her face as she made to rise from the sofa. What the-?
Plucking it from the air, she was surprised to see her name written in familiar emerald ink.
Turning it over carefully, her article on broom statistics fell by the wayside as she undid the unfamiliar seal and began read its contents in earnest. Green eyes quickly widened, and she took a moment to flip the parchment back and forth trying to understand how it had appeared before her so suddenly. This is... is this real?
She devoured the message quickly.
Ginevra Weasley,
I regret to interrupt your morning, however recent world events have brought to light new developments that I believe will evolve into a threat demanding of our time and attention. I have been presented with enough significant evidence to suggest that the Order of the Phoenix should be reinstated - heretofore advancing against the armies and influence of Lord Voldemort and now to counter a threat of perhaps even greater magnitude.
It is with great reluctance that I call you from your daily life and beseech you to render aid.
The first meeting of the Third Order of the Phoenix will convene tomorrow evening, Friday, November 19, 1999 at 19:00, local time.
This parchment will serve as a Portkey. Please ensure you have it upon your person should you agree to answer the summons.
Respectfully,
Minerva McGonagall
Her lips falling into an "O" shape, Ginny quickly sprang off the sofa, mind whirling with a number of questions even as she navigated the familiar route to the kitchen. Bursting into the room she paused, freezing as her eyes absorbed the image of her mother standing near the sink - her face a mask of shock as a similar parchment lay relaxed in one hand.
Before Ginny could ask a question, there was a knock at the door and George Weasley strode in, running a hand through his red locks.
"Hello, Mum! Ginny." Blue eyes quickly absorbed their mother's stricken expression and the parchments they were both gripping. A moment later he pulled one out of his own pocket. "Oh good, we all match! S'going to be a right party then, innit?"
Her mum smacked George's arm angrily even as Ginny sniffed and shook her head, moving to pull out a chair at the kitchen table. They all glanced between one another for a moment longer, holding their parchments carefully as if they might suddenly burst into flame. Her mother cast a fearful glance over toward the family clock as if expecting all of their names to suddenly shift to "Mortal Peril," at any moment.
"What d'you think this means?" Ginny asked slowly, her eyes retracing the parchment's contents again. She heard George shift, but her soft question fell into the sudden silence of the kitchen like a heavy weight.
A moment later, George moved to lean against one counter, casually plucking an apple from a basket. He took a big bite before waving the fruit, one eyebrow lifting puckishly.
"'Spose Ol' McGonagall must have good reason. I reckon she wouldn't call us back for nothing. Can't imagine she misses us all underfoot that much! Ow!" Her brother flinched as their mum whacked him on the head with a dishtowel.
"Minerva McGonagall is not old, George Weasley! And this is serious! I have a good mind not to let you go, Ginevra Weasley," their mum hissed, pinning them both with an intense glare even as they both sputtered indignantly, their voices overlapping.
"I never said I wasn't serious! Geez, woman! Watch where you're swinging that thing!"
"Mum, I'm of age - you can't keep me from things this time! I'm going to the meeting!"
Molly Weasley stood trembling, one hand at the ready with the limp dishtowel even as her eyes glared daggers at the two of them.
A moment later however, those same eyes filled with tears and she turned away, tucking the parchment into her pocket even as Ginny exchanged a look with her brother. Sighing internally, she rose and moved to put a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder, nearly flinching when it was immediately squeezed back even as the witch before her shuddered with unshed tears.
"I'm sorry, mum. But you know that we're all going to end up going… and, like you said. This is serious. If McGonagall is re-instituting the Order then it means she needs our help. Personally, I know that I can't not answer the call," Ginny said softly, looking to George for assistance.
Her brother's lips twisted into a sad smile and he came to lay his hand atop both of theirs.
"Mum… no one in our family is ignorant of the risks. I say we all go as a family and hear what she has to say. You can't fault us for wanting to remain informed," he said diplomatically. They felt their mother take a deep wavering breath.
Ginny felt a twinge of sadness at her older brother's careful words. Gone were the days of easy laughter and quick banter. Without his other half, George had developed a much more serious side… and while Ginny knew he still made an effort to keep the majority of his interactions lighthearted and full of fun, she feared a bit of his flame had been extinguished forever.
"Well, now… that seems quite reasonable, George," her mum murmured, her voice surprisingly steady. Ginny fought not to reveal just how surprised she was that their mother had capitulated so easily. Abruptly, the witch turned and looked up at the both of them, her eyes bright, but her expression fierce.
"Very well. Just… please do me a favor, both of you?"
Ginny resisted the urge to glance at her brother for reassurance before she nodded. Her mother lifted a brow carefully.
"Consider your options first before you go charging into an unknown situation heedless of the consequences. I know the Order promotes a feeling of action, it is still an organization devoted to intelligence gathering - something that neither of you have much actual experience with…" Her mother's blue eyes gave them a swift glare.
"Now, I'm not trying to make that into a challenge for either you, so don't go twisting my words. I just want you to promise me that you'll think before agreeing to anything, all right?"
"Believe me mum, we will," Ginny replied softly, her mind already pressing away images from the Battle of Hogwarts. None of them were oblivious to the realities of war.
George moved forward and planted a kiss on his mother's head.
"Yeah, mum. And anyway, I doubt Ol' McG would send us anywhere blind. She's got to be a bit more organized than Dumbledore," George responded with a smile, his confidence in the witch clear. Their mum pursed her lips in disapproval at the nickname, but gave a nod. Moving closer, he wrapped an arm around their mum's shoulders and gave her a shake; a moment later she graced him with a smile before giving him another fond whack! on the head.
Ginny chuckled, already thinking about how much her brothers had secretly loved with their Transfiguration professor while still at Hogwarts. She had it on good authority that the elder witch was just as mischievous as the twins themselves had been.
It seemed to have been the right thing to say, because a moment later, their mum's expression brightened somewhat and she kissed them both on the cheek soundly before turning back toward the kitchen sink.
"Actually, you're right, George. No matter what we are facing, I am certainly glad that it's Minerva in charge of things now," she said, her voice almost cheerful.
Ginny frowned and made to ask a question about the curious statement but quickly stopped as George gave her a silent shake of his head. He mouthed a quick "Later" to her and took another bite of his apple, ignoring her confused expression.
Already moving toward the door he gave a cheerful wave.
"Well… can't say I expected that on my break, but I guess I'll be seeing you both tomorrow. 'Bye Mum! 'Bye squirt!"
"'Bye," she mumbled, mind still considering her mum's comment in relation to their combined summons.
Her mother's ministrations in the sink faded into the background as Ginny bit a lip, realizing that… despite seven year of schooling, she really didn't know anything about Minerva McGonagall at all.
Hermione's peaceful breath tickled Dia's ear and she opened her eyes to find that the slanted light in the Library had traveled across the room, falling diagonally upon clean white bookshelves suggesting that it had left the sofa some time ago.
Rubbing her temple carefully so as not to disturb her apprentice, Dia cast a quick a tempus and saw that it was drawing close to four in the afternoon.
Sweet Circe, we've been asleep for two hours!
A careful glance indicated that Hermione's brow was furrowed in concentration. Even in sleep the young witch was still thinking. Unable to help herself, Dia smoothed a gentle finger against the crease and was pleased to see the small pucker relax.
Considering how to best extract herself, she muttered a few spells before rising slowly, shaking her head in soft amusement when Hermione didn't even stir. She must be exhausted.
Another whispered charm ironed out the creases in her robes and Dia quickly conjured two small blue bottles from her private stores, quaffing one quickly and leaving the other on a pile of books where it would be readily available whenever her apprentice woke. Though she knew Hermione would be incensed at the interruption to her studies, it was clear the witch needed the extra sleep.
Tracing the young woman's soft features one more time, Dia sighed and glided away, already cataloguing the plans she would have to soon make.
A letter to Minerva was in order. To say that she was annoyed with her former mentor was a complete understatement. A flash of anger ignited quickly and Dia took a deep breath as she made her way to the kitchen. Her words deserved careful consideration.
Turning the corner, she jumped when she nearly collided with a petite figure in royal blue.
"Ah! There you are darling, I asked the wards to notify me as soon as you were alone."
Too tired to glare, Dia simply walked around her aunt, sighing even as she swiped the cup of coffee out of the witch's hands.
"Mmm... theia, is this urgent?" she asked softly, coming to lean against the center island.
Unruffled as usual, Yiayia circled around and quickly conjured another cup, stirring it gently as she leaned against the opposite side of the flat surface.
"Yes, darling. I am sorry for disturbing you…" she said apologetically. Sipping the liquid gold fervently, Dia allowed herself a moment to savor the delicious blend before fixing her aunt with a purposeful look.
"Well?"
"I sent word to Zohar last night. Theodotus Ambrozaitys was killed during recent events at the Sagrada Familia," Yiayia said evenly. Dia reached out a hand.
"I'm very sorry to hear that, theia," she murmured even as the elder witch patted her arm gently. The dark brows constricted slightly, but Yiayia returned the moment with a bright smile.
"Yes, thank you darling. It… was difficult news to hear, but at the very least I won our longstanding bet," her aunt said, pausing for effect. "We bet one another long ago that he'd be the one to die first. I threw in that it would be doing some sort of god-awful middle-of-the-night inspection at one of his sites. He was fond of those, you know. With interest, Theo probably owes me quite the sum of Galleons."
"Theia…" Dia chided gently. Yiayia sniffed once before her expression crumpled and a lone tear trickled its way down her cheek. Impatiently, she wiped it away before taking another breath and fixing Dia with a wavering smile.
"Ah well. Nothing to be done about it, my darling. Loss continues to resonate even when you get to be my age," she said softly. Dia waited patiently, knowing that her aunt's long-time friend was a huge blow. They had known each other for over nine decades.
"Anyway… I'm telling you now, partially to inform you that I will be departing for Latvia tomorrow for the funeral. Inese has already invited me to stay the weekend, though I will wait before deciding whether or not to encroach upon her hospitality," Yiayia began, rubbing her coffee cup with a long blue nail. A moment later, bright hazel eyes zeroed in on Dia's.
"But, I also suspect that his death was no accident."
Dia pursed her lips and stood up straight, resting both hands upon the counter as she gazed across at her aunt carefully. It seemed there were to be several difficult conversations bearing action today.
"I would imagine not," she agreed in a low voice. Yiayia seemed to visibly relax at her acknowledgment before nodding to herself and taking a sip of coffee.
The silence between them grew longer as each witch held her own counsel. This complicates matters greatly, Dia thought.
Surprisingly her thoughts quickly turned to Minerva and her impending acceptance of the Order summons. Dia's first instinct had been to engage with a few choice members of the Secretariat to the Hellenic Council to see what other intelligence she could extract. The other impulse was already in progress, though the fact that Eleni and Stelios had not yet returned meant that their search was not going well.
Jethro, you old coot… sometimes your ways are far too set in stone for the rest of the world.
However… Minerva was, and always had been well-connected in ways that had rivaled Dia and her family. Perhaps the summons will prove to the advantage.
Yiayia appeared to sigh gently, turning in place to lean her back against the island, one hand holding her coffee as her eyes gazed unseeingly out the windows toward the silver slip of the sea.
"I have spoken with Theo's second-in-command," Yiayia said softly, breaking the silence. Dia looked up and saw the elder witch's eyes narrow lightly even as she continued to gaze out the window. Moving to slide next to her aunt, they both leaned against the island as another moment was devoted to their coffee.
"And?" she asked. Yiayia pursed her lips.
"Aurors indicate that he was crushed immediately upon impact when the spires fell. He did not suffer," she began, even as another tear made its way down her cheek. Dia remained silent though she pressed a bit closer in a gesture of solidarity.
"You knew Theo, darling. Quick as a pistol, arrogant at times, yes… but sharp. So sharp! The man had decades of experience behind him. Even if the basilica had begun to fall, Theo would have known immediately how to save himself and his company. It's ludicrous to imagine his death in this manner. The only way such an event were to have occurred semi-naturally is if he were to have been rendered unconscious or Imperiused," Yiayia said, gesturing impatiently with one hand.
"He doesn't strike me as the Imperiused type," Dia replied lightly, already certain that her aunt would agree.
Theodotus had been a familiar figure at the Kefalas villa throughout her childhood years. The old Architect had lived through Grindelwald's War having escaped with a number of scars and stories to prove it. To her mother's extreme disapproval, he used to delight Dia with fantastical stories about his past life as a spy (which as she grew older, she came to realize were far cleaner and more full of bravado than the actual truth).
On one memorable occasion she had watched Theo duel her aunt on a lazy summer afternoon down by the beach. Even as a nine-year old she had recognized the truly high-level ability that the both of them possessed. There had been much carrying on and cajoling on the part of her family as they had watched, but beneath it all, Dia recalled the lighting fast reflexes, creative ingenuity, and incredibly intense focus…
No… Even at age 119, those skills would never have abandoned Theo.
"Indeed not," her aunt agreed, setting her cup aside and straightening her shoulders. She folded her arms in front of her carefully before continuing.
"Local Aurors insist there was no evidence of a duel and that the diagnostics show that Theo was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had to hold my tongue against hexing Aurelius out of sheer spite when he told me. I never knew what Theodotus saw in that boy. He's a discredit to the Guild."
"Did they examine the body?" Dia asked, acknowledging her aunt's sudden shift into her impersonal business-mode.
"There was no evidence to suggest he had been slipped a Potion," Yiayia replied quickly. Dia frowned.
"Your thoughts?"
"Well… either, local Aurors are concealing the truth of their investigation, or whomever was there that night managed to convince Theo to remain in the pathway of destruction of his own accord," Yiayia stated smoothly. Dia took a deep breath and considered her aunt's logic.
"What do you imagine they would have used as leverage?" she asked. Yiayia gave a heavy sigh, her left hand coming to fiddle with the many rings on her right.
"I can only imagine that someone knew of his research," she replied in a peculiar tone of voice.
Dia gave a slow nod, realizing that her aunt was about divulge information from the Guild. Yiayia confirmed it a moment later as she held up her wand.
"I must swear you to secrecy, darling."
Dia let the statement hang for a moment before taking a deep breath.
"I do not believe I am prepared to take such an oath, theia," she replied honestly. Yiayia snapped her head to the right and pinned her with a serious expression. Twisting her lips, Dia explained.
"A few hours ago, my apprentice received a summons from Minerva McGonagall. It seems that the Order of the Phoenix is to be reinstated."
Her aunt's expression remained placid.
"I see. Then, no doubt, you will be rejoining," Yiayia replied, her voice flat. I did not ask for this, theia.
"I was given very little choice," Dia replied after a moment, a thread of emotion finding its way into her voice. Hazel eyes watched her face carefully and Yiayia sniffed humorlessly.
"Well. It seems our role has grown more complicated than I would have expected," she said dryly.
"And what is our role, exactly?" Dia retorted with just a hint of bitterness.
Yiayia pressed away from the island carefully and fixed her with an dispassionate gaze.
"Where we always are, anipsiá mou. In the thick of things... whether we wish it or not."