Chapter Three: Phoenix Rising
Late morning sunlight aroused Charlie from a blissful blankness, the natural illumination filtering through the window shining directly onto his face and stirring his brown eyes enough to cause them to flutter lazily. Turning onto his left side away from the daylight he yawned and shut his eyes again in a desperate attempt for a few more minutes of darkness, but in a bright room it was near impossible to escape. Every clean shimmering surface of the sterile infirmary gave the sun something to reflect against, the light following the ginger-haired man's eyes as though it had a sworn vendetta against lying in.
It was still an odd sensation to have the light awaken him in the morning. Not only was the window in his own room small, but any natural sunshine was usually blocked out by his sleeping in the lower bunk. Any radiance that did find his eyes could always easily be fixed by a turn of his head, but such was not possible in a room full of light and Charlie had no choice but to relent and face the day by opening his eyes.
The first thing he glimpsed upon was the empty hospital bed beside him, made neatly with every corner of the clean white sheet tucked tight beneath the thin mattress. A plump downy pillow sat at the head, fluffed and waiting for someone's head to come and rest upon it. At first glance there was no sign that the other bed, which usually housed a pretty brunette woman in a navy Puddlemere United t-shirt and flannel pants, had been used at all. It took a full minute sitting up on the mattress before Charlie saw the discarded pyjamas carefully draped on the bedpost farthest from him.
"Well, good morning," a familiar voice greeted from its place at the window.
Spinning his head, his eye caught sight of the resident Healer seated at her desk with her usual quill hovering over the leather logbook. She had only given him a seconds' worth of glance before she turned her attention to a large white gold wristwatch, which Charlie recognized as his from his coming-of-age birthday, resting in her palm. Noting the exact time given by the dragons encircling the watch's face, she was quick to scribble down her professional entry for the morning.
"I trust you slept well with your last eight hours," she commented, surveying her notation with a nod of her head.
"You would know," grinned the well-rested dragon keeper as he propped himself up straight against the pillow.
"Yes, I would." She smiled back, shutting the logbook and dropping the quill as she turned to face him with a stretch of her long arms. "You must have slept well because your snoring is dreadfully loud. Simeon is very right to complain about it."
Charlie let out a single laugh as his face became flush with rosiness behind his many freckles. Feigning scratching his nose he placed his hands directly over his warm cheeks before he was suddenly overcome with the desire to find his wand. His gaze diverted away from Abby as he searched the bedside table drawer for his maple wood wand, missing it completely as it sat in plain view atop the nightstand.
"It does make me happy though," she stated plainly as she stood before her boyfriend, his heavy wristwatch held out to him in her extended hand. "It's much better than complete silence."
He took the precious watch from her hand, slipped it over his own, and clasped it tight to his wrist, noting the time was very near noon before he looked up to Abby, shaking his head. "You must not get a very good night's rest though, listening to my snores all night long."
She sat down on the bed beside him, bringing herself to his eye level to brush his stray ginger bangs away from his forehead and run a few fingers down his hairline with care. "I'll get used to it."
The scent of mint had only grazed his lips when the door to the infirmary opened and caused the fresh breath to retreat. In the exact same clothes he had worn the night before Simeon hastily strolled straight towards Charlie and Abby, the speed of his steps alone suggesting urgency to an unknown matter. The Healer was quick to stand, positioning herself at the foot of the bed between the two men as if instinct told her she may have to shoo away the visitor in favour of her patient's health.
"Simeon," she greeted politely as he stopped only inches away from her, his hand resting upon the metal frame of Charlie's bed.
"I apologise for the disruption," the dark-haired man said, bowing his head towards Charlie and then Abby, "but the Order is convening in less than fifteen minutes and I thought you might vant to be there."
It took Charlie less than three minutes to dress and ready himself, but when he emerged from the storage closet his two companions had already departed. Pocketing his maple wand and tossing his pyjamas atop the unmade hospital bed, he quickly made his own way out of the infirmary and down a short empty corridor towards the eastern wing of the building. With a long stride in his step he passed the usual hallway scenery of numbered doors and framed photos of note-worthy past employees, dragon keepers and researchers alike, while halting for nothing. He only stopped when he came to a familiar door where instead of a number it was marked with a large golden bird flying about in a small circle at eye level. Withdrawing his wand he tapped the floating symbol three times and with a click of the charmed doorknob was instantly admitted into the rooms that housed the Order of the Phoenix.
Chatter wafted about in the surrounding air, members of the organization both standing against the white walls and sitting at the large meeting table talking amongst each other while there were still minutes to spare. The quiet click of the door closing did little to distract them, the redhead slipping in without general notice as snippets of the louder conversation caught his ears. Talk of the latest news was quickly circulating around the walls, many eager to discuss the reported death of Headmaster Karkaroff and the mysterious disappearances of Diagon Alley shopkeepers with clippings of newspaper in hand for reference.
"Here I thought Professor Karkaroff vould be rejoining the Death Eaters," Mikhail Volkov proclaimed, slapping the newsprint picture of his former Headmaster as Charlie swiftly made his way past the small group of Durmstrang graduates towards the head of the room. "He loved his Dark Arts so."
"It says there was no sign of a struggle at Ollivanders," recounted Ardel Collins as he read directly from a copy of The Daily Prophet. "He may have abandoned the shop voluntarily."
"What would anyone want with the local ice cream man?" asked Tamera Cohen, shaking her head. "I doubt You-Know-Who has cravings for hot fudge sundaes that only Mr Fortescue can make."
"You obviously 'aven't tasted Fortescue's raspberry lemon sherbet. Oi, Charlie!"
A hand landed squarely on Charlie's shoulder, stopping the dragon keeper in his tracks and making him turn to greet the chipper voice that found him. Shane Kennedy had his free hand extended, giving him a hearty handshake and a pat on the back.
"Good to see you," Shane began with his usual string of pleasantries. "Yer lookin' well rested. That Abby must be workin' 'er charms on ya, if ya know what I mean. How was yer go last night at The Crossed Fangs? Some news there, those disappearances and all?"
There was little for Charlie to say in response to his Irish friend and fellow Hogwarts alum, the dragon keeper simply nodding as he walked backwards. A few small steps was all it took for the conversation to leak over to willing participants and allow the dragon keeper to continue on his journey.
A wall made of window glass stood resolute near the end of Charlie's path, the view of brilliant blue skies looming high over the mountains that hid the reserve from Muggle eyes streaming in like midday light in the infirmary. If not for the occasional sight of a flying Norwegian Ridgeback or Romanian Longhorn in the distance, he would have said the landscape must have been painted. There near the window he took his usual seat at the gleaming wooden table not taking his eyes away from the magnificent view or the two figures that stood against the glass with their gazes fixed upon the wide world outside, speaking in hushed voices beneath the rest of the dialogue in the room.
Simeon leaned casually against the window wall, his hands firmly in his pants pockets as his dark eyes scanned the sunny scenery. His long black bangs were swept out of his line of vision, the task of watching the mountain range seemingly a serious situation. Occasionally his eyes would steal a glance into the crowd only to return to the window and mouth a couple of words to his lookout companion, who stood statue still watching the world go by.
"Afternoon, Charlie," a sweet song-like voice interrupted his thoughts. "You're looking well."
He turned to smile up at the warm face of Bella as she seated herself to his immediate right and set down her parchment and white feather quill. She leaned towards him, speaking in a hushed tone as though what she had to say was meant for him alone. "How was your duty last night?"
"Uneventful," he answered honestly. "Not much happened other than Simeon losing at cards and Abby being flirted with by that scoundrel of a bartender."
Bella let out a small laugh at Charlie's last smart remark. "I suppose that means she is doing her job well."
A sudden hasty silence between the two smiling friends said more than words could have; the pause in Bella's chuckle and her fingers fascination in fiddling with her feather quill alerting Charlie to the hidden message beneath her last remark. He was quick to put his hand atop of hers and give a reassuring pat to one who needed it.
"It isn't for everyone, to be out there," he explained calmly as he had done before.
"I know," she replied in an unusual near whisper. "It just isn't easy being the one who stays back and waits and wonders what has happened."
"I'm familiar with that feeling," sighed Charlie.
"Which is what makes you the perfect confidante."
As the phrase left Bella's tongue there was movement at the large window wall that caught Charlie's attention. The two lookouts turned around to face the room and made their way to the last two spots at the long table, seating themselves in the commanding lead chair and the immediate left. All the conversations in the room stopped the second they were sitting, everyone seeming to hold their breath as if life depended upon it. Every pair of eyes fell to the head of the table where Abby tucked a lock of stray hair behind her ear and prepared to address the masses.
"Thank you all for attending," she began, her hands folding themselves upon the surface of the table as her clear voice carried around the meeting room. "We will hear our first report presently."
A comet of silver light burst soundlessly through the window at the end of Abby's sentence, the glowing orb landing squarely at the centre of the table before it materialised and took form as a translucent swan-sized bird. Its long ghostly tail feathers ruffled as its clear eyes scanned the room carefully assuring it was in the company of its allies after the long journey.
"To our Romanian brethren of the Order of the Phoenix, I thank you all for taking the time to hear this message," the all-knowing voice of Albus Dumbledore emitted from the beak of the silvery phoenix Patronus, the cadence of his speech captivating his audience. Bella's quill sprung to life upon the parchment, dipping itself into the pot of ink she'd set out and furiously writing while everyone listened to the Hogwarts Headmaster with rapt attention. "As you are all well aware, Lord Voldemort has fast been gaining ground since his outing at the Ministry almost two months ago. Since then he has been wreaking havoc upon Muggles and wizards alike. The disappearances and murders have started. We are in a full-scale war with the forces of Lord Voldemort."
A collective shudder went up everyone's spine at the mere mention of his name. It was foolish in their minds to be scared of someone's self-importance given title, but for so long it had been engrained that speaking of such an evil was a sin. As children they were taught to only speak of him as You-Know-Who or He Who Must Not Be Named, and the habit was proving hard to break.
"It is a wonderful thing to know so many of you, despite international boundaries and personal loyalties, have come together in our cause," Dumbledore's Patronus continued, the translucent eyes of the phoenix seeming to look proudly about at the grown crowd of witches and wizards. "We are only as strong as the bonds which hold us together and your group has done astounding work in uniting, something you will need for the road ahead.
"Many of our Aurors in the Order echo your suspicions that Lord Voldemort will try to recruit in your territory behind the Iron Curtain. He's found ones loyal to his cause there before, after all. Eastern Europe has been a breeding ground for the ideals regarding wizard supremacy dating back farther than Grindlewald and flourishing recently beneath Ceausescu. The magical communities there are desperate for a return to former glory since the fall of communism and I have no doubt Lord Voldemort will offer just that.
"With all this in mind, I do understand the difficulty you have encountered in trying to reach out to the local wizarding community and rally people to a cause they do not support. Do not see this as failure. It is a tremendous undertaking to even dream of attempting."
The hair upon Charlie's neck stood straight as the words flowed from the phoenix's beak, words meant for him. He looked across the table to Simeon, who did not bend his brow from his focussed glare on Dumbledore's messenger bird as it pressed on with its speech.
"I encourage you to keep trying to find those who could support the Order; you may find them in the unlikeliest of places. However, I also ask that you continue to keep your eyes and ears open to the likelihood of Lord Voldemort's followers being in your midst. As you have been, do what you can to keep them in your minds and sights and inform us if you hear a whisper of anything of interest."
With a great sigh the ghostly bird began to slowly dissolve into flames, a small brilliant blaze forming at its tail and climbing up its silvery figure as it left a trail of glittering ash that melted away like spring snow. Lowering its magnificent head as if to fall asleep beneath its wing the charm accepted its demise with the job of delivering the message completed.
"Oh, and I must say," the Patronus spoke again just as the fire reached the base of its short plumed neck. "Whoever sent the last Patronus message, I do enjoy your corporeal form greatly. An Augury, the Irish cousin of the phoenix. It is a very interesting choice."
It couldn't say anymore on the matter, the last of the flames disintegrating the bird until there was no trace that it had ever been present at their meeting. The audience that had been so quiet during the presentation were now stirring, the speech from the mystical phoenix being repeated in abbreviated whispers across the room while the entirety of it sat on the table beneath Bella's quill. Charlie watched as Simeon's dark eyes darted towards Abby, a silent communication passing between them.
"This makes our path forward clear," she proclaimed, leaning forward on her elbows as she looked across the room, silencing the whispers with her green gaze. "By the order of Dumbledore those who are willing and able participants will continue to infiltrate connections as spies, finding not only prospective allies, but potential enemies."
"Yah, and findin' an ally is like findin' a domesticated dragon 'round these parts," Shane quipped a loud, chuckling to himself a little for his quick wit.
"As stated by Dumbledore," Simeon stated plainly, the room hushing as his voice carried across the crowd, "you never know vere you may find allies."
"It is why we started spying before getting the approval," added Tamara. "It is good to know that Dumbledore backs our efforts in espionage."
The reports began to roll in from there, those partaking in the spy ring sharing the information they had gathered from their new identities, which in comparison to the headlines on newspapers was nothing too shocking. There were some sympathetic reactions to the news from wizards high up in the Romanian Ministry for Magic and from the local residents, but nothing that would indicate a strong feeling of negativity towards He Who Must Not Be Named and his politics. All those who were hopeful allies were very good at keeping their conversations to the facts and their opinions to themselves.
"It will take time," the young woman at the head of the table remarked just as the spy reports were completed. "Gaining trust from our new colleagues and friends is not something to be accomplished quickly. As we continue, we will start to see the true colours of those we watch. And hopefully time is on our side."
A/N: I had to do some reading on Romanian history, figuring it was going to play a bigger part. Jo Rowling has stated before that the rise of Grindlewald was associated with World War II, so I tried to see how the Cold War would have impacted wizards in Eastern Europe. It ended up not being as big as I thought, but it did lead me to think that ideals of blood supremacy might be stronger behind the Iron Curtain. It works for the story, so I left it in.