Late in the afternoon in the waning days of August, Harry Potter, a tall, lean, bespectacled boy, adorned a look of concentration. His brow furrowed as it had for the last few hours as he'd sat with his best friend, Ron Weasley, an even taller ginger boy with a long nose doused in freckles.
Homework was on their mind, as it had for the past few days; going into their seventh and final year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, they were expected to complete a wicked amount of it to prepare them for their N.E. (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests—and they were already living up to the name). They had gotten through Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms, and were on their way through Transfiguration, in a world of their own; they had set up shop in the dining room at Grimmauld Place, parchment and books piled high around them, threatening to topple from the smallest breeze.
Next to the pile of books was a stack of papers, with the latest paper reading:
NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM: INSANE?
August 17th 1997
Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived, was sighted in Diagon Alley earlier Today with his Aunt school shopping. We were lucky to get a moment with Mr Longbottom, asking him whether he'd admit to lying! But, when spoken to about his harrowing stories of who abducted him, he remains adamant that it was He Who Must Not Be Named!
'I know what I—and who I—saw that night,' Mr Longbottom said. 'It was him.'
Now, I know what all of you must be thinking, and I assure you dear reader—we too here at the Daily Prophet think the same! He Who Must Not Be Named is gone and never to return. But, when confronted with the facts that He Who Must Not Be Named hadn't been seen for close to two decades now, Mr Longbottom continues to say it was him…
Here at the Daily Prophet, we remain firm in our belief that Mr Longbottom has been lying to cause panic and widespread fear among the masses. We implore you to continue your lives as normal and wait until Mr Longbottom finally admits to faking the story for his own personal gain.
Rita Skeeter
Many articles had been written along the same vine as this one, the whole pile had something to say about Neville Longbottom or Albus Dumbledore and The Order of the Phoenix. Harry and Ron had many talks about the Order, even talking about approaching Dumbledore himself to see whether they'd be allowed to join now they were of age. Many rumours surrounded Neville about his relationship with Dumbledore, talk of special training; they weren't certain whether it was true or not, but as Neville's dormmates, they could attest to the boy spending an excess amount of time at night not in their room.
Harry grabbed for another sheet of parchment, dissatisfied with what he'd just written for his homework—too many scribbles and smudges for it to be handed in.
"What's the big deal in telling her how you feel?" Ron asked, an age-old question between the two boys now.
They'd been arguing about Harry's relationship, or lack thereof, with Vira Black for weeks now. Harry had known Vira since before he'd attended Hogwarts, meeting her and her late mother, Rhea Avery, in a park during the summer before his first year. Ever since, he'd grown closer and closer with the girl to the point she'd invited him to move into her ancestral home with her (Number Twelve Grimmauld Place). Now, however, Harry's feelings had developed beyond mere friendship and he'd confided these feelings to Ron, who'd been elated, though unsurprised, to hear it.
"I can't just confess, Ron."
"Mate," said Ron, kicking his feet up on their table as he opened a textbook on Elemental Transfiguration. The precarious pile of parchment and books wobbled as his boot missed a book by less than an inch. "You've got to get over yourself!"
"Said by a true prophet," grumbled Harry, pointing his quill at Ron.
"When you get an O in a Divination O.W.L—"
"—Get an O in any of your N.E.W.T.s, then I might take your advice," said Harry in retort.
"Git."
"You don't seriously think I can just tell her, do you?"
"It worked for me." Ron shrugged. "What's the worst that can happen?"
"Er—I don't know: she'll hate me?—want nothing to do with me."
"What a load of bollocks! You two are two peas in a pod—you're going to be Head Boy and Girl, for Merlin's sake!" said Ron. "She's just as smitten with you as you are her."
"But—"
"—But nothing."
Harry groaned, hiding his head in his hands. "I can't."
"Yes, you can," said Ron decisively. "You're Harry Potter—the next coming of Merlin!"
"No, I'm not!" Harry denied vehemently, though he knew many thought such an egregious statement to be true. Harry, while he knew he was rather talented, never chalked himself to be on the level of such a celebrated Wizard. So what he'd conjured Gubraithian Fire when he was a fifth year? Any fool with a flair for pyrotechnics could conjure it.
Ron rolled his eyes. "You took her to the yule ball—"
"—As friends—"
"—Oh, bollocks to that! And Bollocks to your 'we're just friends'! You two are closer than me and Daphne. I swear you've done everything with Vira… brush your teeth, cuddle in the common room, showered after Quidditch—"
"—That was a misunderstanding!" Harry interjected before Ron could go further, and he definitely could—showering together wasn't even the tip of the iceberg, and Ron knew it.
The boy had seen too much for his own good; Ron had a nasty habit of, no matter how drunk he was, recalling the events of the previous night. Harry had once woken to Ron telling him how Harry and Vira had celebrated a little too hard after winning a Quidditch match against Slytherin, and ended up making out in the common room at the end of the night. Luckily, Vira hadn't seemed to remember, and Harry had no recollection, only Ron's word, so they went back to business as usual.
"McGonagall didn't think so," said Ron.
"She came in at the wrong time—Vira just wanted some shampoo."
"Naked."
Harry sighed, nodding. "Yes. Naked."
Ron shook his head, furrowed his brow, deep in thought. He took a moment off harassing Harry to read through his homework before handing it over to be proofread. Harry scribbled notes down—glad for the brief reprieve—on a second piece of parchment for Ron, with minor improvements and suggestions. The boy didn't need them, he'd probably get an Exceeds Expectations on the work he'd already done; maybe scrape an Outstanding if Professor McGonagall was feeling generous; but if he wanted a guaranteed Outstanding in his N.E.W.T, this knowledge would give it to him.
He handed Ron back his parchment and the notes and he tried in vain to sift through his notes on the intricacies of Elemental Transfiguration. But no sooner than he'd read the first paragraph did he toss his quill onto his piece of parchment and turn to Ron. "But… when—if—I ask… and she says no—"
"—Which she won't," said Ron with an emphatic grin, clearly happy he'd made progress.
"And she says no…" Harry repeated. "What then?"
"Look, Harry, you're my best mate, the smartest, most gifted wizard I know—and I tell you this in the nicest way possible—you're an idiot."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm serious!"
"So am I!" cried Ron. "I'm telling you, she loves you! Not as friends, not as siblings—she loves you. Period. You need to man up and make your move or you'll regret it!"
"Cunt." Harry lobbed a book at Ron.
Ron caught the book and stood, taking out his wand ready to send a hex Harry's way, whilst Harry prepared to shield himself, and their work—but mostly his work—from whatever daft spell Ron would perform. They were locked in a standoff for the better part of a minute, eyeing each other with dopey grins, before they were interrupted.
"What are you two buffoons doing?" asked Vira Black as she entered the room, accompanied by Daphne Greengrass.
Vira was the epitome of the Black family: tall, elegant and proud—standing with her head high. Her eyes were dark and jaw strong, and was often mistaken to have a haughty scorn across her features, though when spoken to she was eccentric and kind.
Harry coughed, dropping his wand to his side. "The gits getting me to do all his homework," he said, as if that explained the standoff they'd been in.
"Ron wouldn't do that," said Daphne, going over to Ron, stretching up on her toes and giving him a peck on the lips. "He's a saint."
"You obviously don't watch Quidditch," said Harry. "And aren't the two of you meant to be out shopping?"
"We have," Vira said. "It's already past dinnertime."
Harry glanced at his watch. "Do we have any food in?" he asked.
"Kreacher can cook something," Vira said. "What do you guys want?"
"Pizza?" Harry asked, looking at Ron and Daphne, who agreed.
"Pizza it is—Kreacher!" The house-elf appeared not a moment after he was called, looking as dingy as ever. "Make us four pizzas, two cheese and two pepperoni, please Kreacher."
"Of course, Mistress Black," said Kreacher, bowing.
Vira flicked her wand and four Butterbeers rushed from the fridge and onto the dining table. They all took their seats at the table, chatting about how far Harry and Ron had gotten through the homework, which Vira and Daphne had refused to help with because of how late the two boys had left it.
After dinner they slunk into the living room with a bottle of firewhiskey and four glasses, Ron and Daphne curling up together on the armchair while Harry and Vira sat beside each other on the sofa with the Wizarding Wireless playing idly in the background. A pleasant silence permeated the room as the four of them sat, all content with each other's presence. After a while, Ron and Daphne seemed to morph into a single creature. Harry was unable to tell where Ron started and Daphne ended; and as Harry and Vira finished drink after drink, much the same happened between them.
It was close to midnight, with half the bottle of firewhiskey drunk, when Ron and Daphne scampered off to bed, stating they were tired. They weren't fooling anyone. They went up to the room they'd been gifted by Vira, the one Ron had often stayed in when Rhea was still alive. It was Vira's uncles, Regulus' old room that Ron had taken over, now decorated with Chudley Cannons memorabilia.
"Do you want to go to bed too?" asked Harry softly, stroking Vira's hair.
Her answer was to cuddle into him further, letting out a gentle sigh.
He smiled. "We can't sleep down here."
"Yes, we can…" she said. "Mmm, you make an excellent pillow." Vira giggled, looking up at him...
"I'm flattered, Lady Black." Harry caressed her cheek with his thumb.
"You should be, Lord Potter."
Harry went to retort but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Vira groaned and clambered to her feet, pattering off petulantly to see who was bothering them at such an hour. Meanwhile, Harry poured himself another drink. A minute later, he heard the door shut and Vira came back into the living room. But she wasn't alone.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, surprised at the sight of the tall man. "What brings you here?"
Dumbledore took a seat on the armchair Ron and Daphne had been on while Vira took her place next to Harry again. "Nothing too important. I find my way to meet with the Head Boy and Girl every year before term starts," he said. "I assume you've moved here full time, Mr Potter?"
"Er- yes."
Dumbledore chuckled. "It was quite the shock when I visited your Aunt and Uncle earlier today, and they said they'd not seen you in almost two years! I looked quite the fool… It seems the two of you have followed in your parents' footsteps—I found James at Sirius' apartment when I went to have this chat with him."
"Would you like a drink, Professor?" Vira asked.
"I wouldn't mind a cup of tea."
"Kreacher! Would you get Professor Dumbledore some tea, please."
"Two sugars."
"Two sugars, Kreacher," Vira repeated, knowing Kreacher to only follow the rules when instructed to by either her or Harry; he hardly ever listened to Ron and was impartial to Daphne.
"Thank you," said Dumbledore. "Now, do either of you have questions—of your expected duties, anything at all."
"What will our curfew look like?" Vira asked.
"You won't have one, though I recommend you get a good night's sleep—your N.E. are quite the challenge."
Kreacher came in with Dumbledore's tea on a silver tray, with a ramekin filled with only two sugars. He gave it to Dumbledore, who gladly took it, saying 'thank you' before the elf disappeared with a sneer across his ugly face.
"There are other matters to discuss," said Dumbledore, taking a sip of his tea. "As Mr Neville Longbottom was abducted at the end of term last year, we will have increased security on the train and whilst at Hogwarts. I have arranged for Aurors to be stationed around the exits of the castle, as well as increased protective enchantments on the grounds. You both will be active members in keeping the school safe, as well."
"Is Neville alright," Harry asked. They weren't close to Neville, but the boy had been nothing but kind to them during their time at Hogwarts, and Harry had not gotten to speak with the boy since the incident. "The papers haven't been very kind to either of you…"
"Mr Longbottom is shaken, but in fine health. However, I worry the slander in the papers has been rather taxing."
"Why isn't he showing himself?" Harry asked.
If Dumbledore was surprised that Harry believed Voldemort to be back, he didn't show it. "I can only assume he needs to regain his strength… I very much doubt Mr Longbottom's escape was something he'd planned. And the smear campaign against Mr Longbottom in the papers is a psychological tactic, he needs to regain the upper hand. But I can only theorise."
"Is this why Neville didn't get chosen as Head Boy?" Harry asked—it'd been on his mind ever since he'd received the letter confirming he was Head Boy.
"No. You were always the obvious choice—both of you were. Even with your antics over the years, your grades have always been exemplary; you rarely find yourselves in trouble, other than an incident here or there. I daresay Mr Longbottom has found himself in a few too many conflicts with opposing houses. Whenever you two get into trouble, it is far less… Well, let us just say it's a minor affair." Dumbledore smiled.
They sat in silence, Harry taking another swig of firewhiskey. Over the conversation, Vira had cuddled back into Harry and Dumbledore was making a point of not noticing it—however hard that may be. Dumbledore swirled his tea, taking another small sip.
Harry's mind went to the Order of the Phoenix—the vigilante group Dumbledore commanded throughout the first Wizarding War; a group his and Vira's parents had been members of.
"If that is all, I shall be leaving…" Dumbledore stood, but Harry stopped him.
"Will the Order of the Phoenix be reassembled?" he asked.
Dumbledore blinked.
"If so, I want to join," said Harry, chest puffed.
"Me too," said Vira.
"Becoming a member of the Order of the Phoenix is no small task," said Dumbledore slowly, sitting back down, "you'll be required to make tough decisions—you'll be soldiers once the war breaks out, proper."
"We understand what it'll entail, Professor. My mother used to tell us the stories…"
Dumbledore bowed his head. "No one still a student at Hogwarts has ever been a member of the Order. Though I understand you both are of age, and have, unfortunately, had to grow up far sooner than I'd ever wish upon a student. Hmm… I imagine Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Daphne Greengrass will be looking to join the both of you, too… And, from what I understand, Molly will not take kindly to her children's participation…"
"Oh. Yeah," said Harry slowly. "Ron hasn't been on the best of terms with his family recently, either…"
"He's staying with us at the moment," Vira added.
"Indeed?" Dumbledore sipped on his tea, his eyes wandering around in search of an answer. "Molly hasn't mentioned anything so drastic…"
"They don't like Daphne," said Vira hotly. "Say she's a harlot and he has 'no business dating such a girl!'" Vira finished, mimicking Mrs Weasley's voice with uncanny accuracy.
"I don't think it helps that her sister is dating Malfoy."
Dumbledore chuckled, though he seemed to have a eureka moment inside his head. He didn't share whatever he was thinking with Harry and Vira. "And what are your thoughts on it?" he asked.
"Malfoy and Astoria came for dinner over the summer, he was… pleasant enough—though I believe it helps that Harry is the only Halfblood, but from a Pure Blooded family, and it's fairly well-known Ron isn't the epitome of a Weasley..." Vira said. She neglected to mention Malfoy blurting out he'd been marked as a Death Eater, though that wasn't something which would endear them to Dumbledore, thus they kept it quiet.
"Yes, of course," said Dumbledore. "This may be a problem with the other members of the Order. We all know where the Malfoy's allegiances lie." It wasn't a criticising statement, Dumbledore had just stated a fact.
An understatement, Harry thought. Hell would break loose the moment they even spoke to Malfoy and a member of the Order saw. "Remus already shared his opinions on our choice of company," he said, "he was vocal on his thoughts on the Malfoy family—as if we couldn't choose who is worth spending time with ourselves. We are not fools, Professor, we'd just rather keep our time at Hogwarts amicable, rather than worry about who'll be 'round the corner."
"I profess, this is not something we can spend a mere conversation on before we come to an appropriate solution... Let me think on it, I may be able to find something that works for all of us. Come see me after classes on the first day, bring Mr Weasley and Miss Greengrass, too," said Dumbledore, rolling his sleeve up and reading a twelve-handed watch. "Oh! Look at the time. I must be off. Please remember you'll be wanted on the Hogwarts Express half an hour before departure."
A/N: I hope you liked this first chapter, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!