The Champion's Legacy

Chapter 6: All in a Day's Work


Author's Note: Please have a look at my profile for an explanation regarding my prolonged absence. I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it.

Many thanks to Dorothea Greengrass for beta-reading this chapter.


Disclaimer: Recognisable portions in this chapter have been taken from the Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling. I neither own nor intend to make any profit from the use of Harry Potter and the associated characters of the series, in my story.


Previously on "The Champion's Legacy"…

Daphne had no time to take the rest of the area in, however; within seconds, they had crossed the street to stand outside the nearest row of houses; next second, Professor Dumbledore handed them a handwritten note for them to read and memorise.

As the house came into view, Daphne felt a sudden sense of foreboding mixed with thrill, and inexplicably, joy. Something big was about to happen – something huge, and momentous.

And as they entered the house into a scene of chaos, and as she looked around at their hosts for the summer, her eyes landed upon the boy she had so desperately wanted to meet in person – and his mouth fell open.

'Daphne?!'


The silence that had fallen upon the occupants of the hallway was so abrupt, it was deafening. Sirius and Hestia had managed to close the curtains over Mrs Black's portrait, and Fred and George had finished Stunning all the others to sleep. Not a sound came from anyone in the area, save for the fading mutterings of Kreacher as he scurried off towards the kitchen in the basement, the large locket in his hand.

And then –

'Sirius Black!'

The feminine scream of horror almost woke up Mrs Black – her curtains certainly twitched noticeably – but she remained mercifully silent. Harry glanced at the woman who had shouted – she was, quite clearly, Daphne's mother. They had the same blonde hair, and even the shape of their eyes was the same. Daphne, however, had inherited her sapphire blue eyes from her father, whose countenance had darkened as he spotted the source for his wife's fear.

'What is the meaning of this, Albus?' he asked, his eyes not leaving Sirius' face. 'Why is this…murderer here?'

Harry saw Sirius shudder a little at the words, and he thought he knew why that was – despite not being the Secret Keeper for the Potters' hiding place in Godric's Hollow, Sirius still blamed himself for James and Lily's deaths.

'Harry…I as good as killed them.'

'He is no more a murderer than I am, Jonathan,' said Dumbledore. His voice sounded calm, but Harry could detect a stern undercurrent to his tone. 'He is, in fact, our host – we are currently inside the House of Black, which serves as the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.'

The man – Jonathan Greengrass – narrowed his eyes slightly, but said nothing more. His eyes slid from Sirius to Hestia next to him, to Fred and George, their wands still raised and pointing at the last portrait, to Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Mrs Weasley, who were all sporting expressions of various degrees of surprise, and lastly, to Harry himself, who had exclaimed Daphne's name in astonishment.

Harry stared right back at the man, bright green boring into striking blue, until, quite perceptibly, Mr Greengrass shifted his gaze to Harry's forehead, where the famous lightning bolt shaped scar was visible above his round-rimmed glasses.

'Harry Potter…' he murmured. Harry noticed Sirius stiffen at the words – and so did Ron – but Mr Greengrass said nothing more towards or about Harry. Instead, turning to Dumbledore, he said, 'We have plenty to discuss, Albus.'

'Indeed,' acquiesced Dumbledore, inclining his head slightly. 'Perhaps we can do so in the dining room. Molly?' he added, turning to the Weasley matriarch, who gave a sudden start, but recovered quickly.

'Yes, of course, Headmaster,' she said, and without further ado, she hurried down the steps towards the kitchen, almost knocking over Hermione in the process. Ginny gave the new arrivals a curious glance, before following her mother downstairs.

'They will join us shortly,' said Dumbledore. 'The dining room is this way – Hestia, might I ask you and Sirius to lead them there? I will join you in a moment.'

Hestia nodded, and made eye contact with Mrs Greengrass first. 'Of course, Albus. Right this way, er –'

'Isabella,' supplied Mrs Greengrass.

'Right,' said Hestia again. She turned on the spot and headed for the dining room a few doors down the corridor.

'Jon,' said Mrs Greengrass gently. Mr Greengrass, who had been keenly observing Sirius, broke his gaze and followed his wife and Hestia. Harry saw Sirius give a questioning glance at Dumbledore, before trailing behind Mr Greengrass.

As soon as the door was shut, Dumbledore looked at the group of students assembled before him. Harry thought he saw Dumbledore's eyes look rather sorrowful, as though he was already regretting what he was about to do. He was proved right with the next words that were spoken.

'I am afraid I must insist on your exclusion from the discussion –' he began, but he was immediately interrupted by groans and moans from everyone, except Daphne and her sister. Dumbledore raised his hand to stem the objections, but Harry overrode him.

'Why, sir?' he asked firmly and rather loudly. 'And please don't bring our age into play, sir,' he added quickly, as Dumbledore opened his mouth to explain. 'You and I both know that Voldemort –' he ignored the winces and gasps from everyone except Dumbledore '– doesn't care about age.'

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Daphne staring at him, and immediately began to feel a little self-conscious; he could sense a blush creeping up his back and spreading to his neck, but he determinedly stared right at Dumbledore. The latter, however, didn't seem interested in making eye contact at all; indeed, he seemed to be staring at a sport right next to Harry's shoulder. The others, all standing at different positions, with different views of the conversation, didn't notice this.

'Harry, it is far too dangerous for students to be involved in this,' said Dumbledore. 'Crucial information could fall into the wrong hands.'

'Are you saying that you don't trust us, sir?' asked Harry immediately. Behind him, he heard a sharp intake of breath from Hermione – no doubt, she was appalled and shocked at his curt and rude manner of speaking with their school headmaster – but he was past the point of caring. Harry wasn't sure where his newfound confidence was flowing from – maybe it was the presence of Daphne, seeing her after so many weeks, or it was the fact that finally, he could probably do something to help in the conflict against Voldemort. Either way, it felt…refreshing.

'It is not a question of trust, Harry,' said Dumbledore, but Harry knew his argument was failing. He crossed his arms above his chest, ready to present another counter-argument.

'Then what is it, Professor? Because, as far as I can tell, it's going to come down to either me or Voldemort at the end of it. I'd probably be better off knowing what I need to know, rather than groping in the dark and making mistakes, don't you think so?'

There was no mistaking this: Dumbledore's brilliant blue eyes widened behind his half-moon spectacles at Harry's statement. He was sure Ron and Hermione had noticed it, too. This confirmed one thing for sure – Dumbledore believed that Harry would have to face Voldemort in the end, and if Dumbledore, of all people, believed that…

At that instant, Harry decided to throw caution to the wind.

In for a Knut, in for a Galleon.

'So, it's true, then?' he said, softly. 'It will be me against him in the end.' And, in a sudden stroke of inspiration, he added, 'Is that what the guard duty is all about? Guarding me? Am I the weapon, sir?'

Dumbledore closed his eyes; for a moment, Harry thought he had gone a bit too far – not in upsetting his headmaster, but in pushing him over the proverbial emotional edge. Dumbledore seemed to be visibly struggling with something, and when he opened his eyes, there was a slight tinge of moisture within them, along with a definite dim in the twinkling effect.

'I…understand, Harry,' he said quietly, so much that Harry thought he'd initially misheard him. Fred and George's dramatic reactions, however – they'd dropped their wands to the floor with a clatter – proved otherwise. 'You are correct – there is no justification for me withholding such information from you, especially when it is quite clear that Lord Voldemort seems to have a personal desire to kill you.'

It wasn't outright, Harry noted, but it was enough – Dumbledore had, in essence, confirmed his hunch on the final confrontation, while also agreeing to the demand for sharing information with him. A few seconds later, however, he realised that there were going to be conditions to this.

'However, I must insist – and this time, I leave no room for objections – that while you may ask me anything you wish to, I will provide answers only to those which I deem necessary for you to know.'

Harry noticed Ron looking a little disappointed at this – and so were the twins, for that matter – but he did not disagree with Dumbledore on this count. It was better, as Lupin had said, that they got the solid facts about everything that was going on, instead of theories of the truth based on snippets of conversations.

He nodded his acceptance, and Dumbledore seemed to relax at that.

'Thank you, Harry,' he said. 'And now, if you will excuse me, I must have a word with Kreacher, before he disappears.'

'With Kreacher?' said Ron in astonishment, his eyes wide. 'But-but –'

'Indeed, Mr Weasley,' said Dumbledore with a smile. 'He possesses an item which I must procure, before it once again falls into the wrong hands.'

And on that rather intriguing note, Dumbledore swept past them down the stairs.

Silence fell upon them once more for a few moments; no one really knew what to say. Fred and George were gazing at Harry in awe, as though they couldn't fathom how he'd managed to stand up and actually win an argument against Dumbledore. Ron was staring after Dumbledore, doubtless wondering why he had to get anything from Kreacher, of all people. Hermione was looking at a random spot on the wall, a worried look on her face as she processed the conversation. Astoria, the younger Greengrass girl, was looking around the hallway in interest, as though fascinated by its gloomy interiors.

And as for Daphne…

Harry's eyes had moved of their own accord to stare at Daphne, as though he was committing the image of her to memory. He seemed to have forgotten how she looked – soft blonde hair that cascaded down to just below her shoulders and framed her round face in the most endearing manner, piercing blue eyes which, at that moment, held so much warmth as she looked right back at him, a ghost of a smile caressing her lips…

He remembered the wonderful sensation of those lips touching his skin, as she kissed his cheek at the Yule Ball last Christmas – he had blushed profusely, but it had been absolutely worth it. He had stared at her for a long time as she danced with Adrian, and had convinced himself that there was no way she could possibly look more beautiful than she had done that evening.

But as he continued to look at her in the hallway of Grimmauld Place, he realised how very wrong he'd been.

He was vaguely aware of himself descending the last few stairs and making his way to her; dimly registered her blue eyes widening in mild surprise as he reached her, although there did seem to be a sparkle of hope within them; barely paying attention to Fred and George's jaws dropping, he opened his arms and pulled Daphne into an embrace.

All his fears about the Ministry hearing, his apprehension about Voldemort and his eventual fate, his annoyance at Dumbledore and the Order for leaving him in the dark, seemed to melt away as she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him back. It was as though he was clinging onto a lifeline, but had only realised just then that he had needed it all this while. He tightened his grip around her frame, burying his face in her soft hair, the scent of apricots filling his nostrils as he did so.

'I missed you so much,' he mumbled into her hair. She chuckled softly into his chest.

'So did I,' she whispered back, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Before he could say anything more, however, there was a sound of a throat being cleared rather distinctively. Harry pulled back from the embrace and saw Fred and George smirking at him.

'Well, Harry…' said Fred slowly, his grin widening.

'This is a surprise,' said George.

'Gryffindor's Golden Boy…'

'And Slytherin's Ice –'

'Finish that sentence, and I will show you exactly how I earned that ridiculous nickname, Weasley,' said Daphne in a dangerously low voice.

George shut his mouth at once. Fred sniggered, but he too fell silent when Daphne directed her glare at him.

'Well, this explains a lot,' said Astoria, who sported a smirk rivalling that of the Weasley twins. 'No wonder you were miserable in Lyon.'

'Lyon?' asked Hermione in surprise. 'What were you doing there?'

'Precautionary measures,' said Daphne, extricating herself from Harry's arms, although she clutched his hand firmly. 'We were being followed. I don't know why Father brought us here though…'

'Well, allow us to welcome you to the magnificent Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix,' said Fred with a regal bow and mischievous wink at the Greengrass sisters. Daphne raised her eyebrow in mild amusement, but Astoria grinned widely.

'Safest place in the world right now, apart from Hogwarts and Gringotts,' added George, also bowing. 'We are at your humble service, fair ladies.'

'Are they always like this?' whispered Daphne to Harry.

'Pretty much,' said Harry, 'but you'll get used to it.'

Astoria, who was still smirking, marched up to the twins, who were still bowing down low, and patted their heads appreciatively. 'Good. Well, then, why don't you help us unshrink our trunks, and take them upstairs to our rooms?'

Fred and George straightened up at once, looks of mock horror on their identical faces. Astoria smiled sweetly at them.

'Come on, they won't unshrink themselves, will they?'

The twins looked at each other, then grinned at Astoria.

'She has our spirit, George!'

'Indeed, Fred. I think we may have found our next Marauder!'

'Good grief,' sighed Hermione, as the twins shook Astoria's hands energetically and introduced themselves with much gusto. 'Since when did Fred and George start training proteges?'

'Since now, apparently,' said Ron, who'd sidled up to stand next to Harry and Daphne. 'Blimey, I didn't know we could have convinced them to lay off on the pranks if we agreed to help them with it.'

'You would have still been their guinea pig, though,' said Hermione. 'Only, it would've been with your permission.'

'Fair point,' conceded Ron. 'Anyway…' he turned to Daphne, 'I don't think we've officially met, and rescuing Harry from the fake Moody's clutches doesn't count.' He grinned and stretched out his hand in greeting. 'Ron Weasley.'

'Daphne Greengrass,' said Daphne, smiling at him, before turning to Hermione. 'And you're Hermione Granger – you need no introduction.'

Hermione blushed at the implied praise. 'Thanks. How's your summer been?'

'Average, at best,' replied Daphne grimly. 'Lyon would have been so much more fascinating if it weren't for the Death Eaters…'

She trailed off, even as Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly. Hermione looked alarmed at her statement, however.

'Death Eaters in Lyon? How did they find you there?'

Daphne shrugged. 'I have no idea.'

Just then, Mrs Weasley and Ginny came up from the basement, their arms laden with trays of food and Butterbeer bottles. A few trays were floating in front of Mrs Weasley, held aloft with her wand.

'Why are you lot still out here?' she asked, looking around at them. 'You should be up in your rooms, go on.'

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but was beaten to it by someone else.

'They will stay, Molly.'

Dumbledore was ascending the stairs right behind them, looking rather pleased with himself. Harry thought he caught a glimpse of a gold chain, which Dumbledore quickly ensconced in the pocket of his robes as he reached the hallway landing.

'B-but Albus –' spluttered Mrs Weasley. It was quite clear that she was struggling to reconcile her earlier instructions with the surprising leniency displayed by Dumbledore in allowing the students to be a part of this discussion. 'They are not members –'

'No, they are not,' agreed Dumbledore, 'but they have as much right as all of us to be a part of this. In any case,' he added, his gaze sliding over the students, 'we have agreed that only certain necessary information would be shared, rather than every single detail.'

'I – but –'

Dumbledore shook his head, and indicated that they should all follow him to the dining room. As one, the students, including Ginny who was still carrying the food trays, fell into step behind in, and trooped inside the room.

It was a long room, most of which was taken up by the enormous table that stood in the centre. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, its brackets occupied by candles that flickered occasionally; the green snakes entwined around each of the holders provided the mysterious green tinge to the light that suffused the room. With the capacity to comfortably seat twenty people, it was useful for the Order to conduct meetings and discussions.

Right now, it was occupied by the five adults who had made their way in earlier. The head of the table had been left empty – ostensibly for Dumbledore himself. Mr and Mrs Greengrass had made themselves comfortable in the seats to the right of the head, while the three Order members – Professor McGonagall, Hestia, and Sirius were seated opposite them.

Harry could tell that the atmosphere in the room wasn't one that would ideally be conducive for meetings – at least, amiable ones which could result in tangible resolutions. Mr Greengrass was sporting an expression of suspicion bordering on dislike as he stared at Sirius. For his part, Harry's godfather looked rather nervous at the scrutiny, attempting to look everywhere but at Mr Greengrass.

All eyes, however, turned to the door as Dumbledore and the others stepped in – and just as Harry had expected, objections were raised at once.

'Daphne, Astoria, you must not be here –'

'They are here on my request,' said Dumbledore calmly, overriding Mr Greengrass' statement. The head of the House of Greengrass spun to gape at Dumbledore in astonishment, and not a little bit of fury, but did not say anything further. Dumbledore, who had seated himself at the head of the table, was looking right back into Jonathan's blue eyes; Harry had the odd feeling that they were communicating without speaking, a notion that seemed to be confirmed when Jonathan nodded and sat back down.

'Albus?' queried Professor McGonagall tentatively, as though unsure if this was the right choice. Dumbledore merely smiled genially and shook his head, leaving her without comment.

It took a few minutes for the new entrants to settle themselves at the table. The sounds of chairs being dragged back were mixed with the scraping of the food trays across the table. Harry sat beside Sirius, and drew up the chair next to him for Daphne, an action that did not go unnoticed by her parents. Astoria and Ginny took the next seats, while Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Mrs Weasley sat down beside the Greengrass adults.

Harry hadn't realised how hungry he'd been – the sandwiches they'd had for lunch seemed like an age ago – and he ate and drank with much relish along with the others. For a few minutes, there was silence in the room except for the chink of cutlery against plates, and the occasional dull thunk as bottles were replaced on the table after sips were taken by their owners.

Once they'd finished, Dumbledore spoke. 'There are a number of things that I wish to discuss with you all, but firstly, allow me to introduce – to those who don't know them – Jonathan and Isabella Greengrass, and their daughters, Daphne and Astoria Greengrass.'

Mr Greengrass inclined his head politely towards Dumbledore. 'On behalf of my family, I want to thank you, once again, for the assistance you have provided to us.'

Dumbledore smiled genially at him. 'You are most welcome, Jonathan. We were fortunate that we could find you in time to help you. Lord Voldemort seems quite adamant in having you on his side.'

Harry vaguely noticed that, while Daphne and Astoria joined the Weasleys, Hermione and Professor McGonagall in shuddering or flinching at the name, Mr and Mrs Greengrass did not display such a reaction.

'Do we know why?' asked Sirius.

Mr Greengrass gave him a searching look. 'He wants access to our gold. Greengrass Industries has been doing remarkably well over the last decade. Lucius Malfoy must have passed on this information to his master, of course.'

Sirius nodded slowly, as though contemplating these words, but did not pursue the subject.

'Lucius also sees value in an alliance between the House of Malfoy and my own,' said Mr Greengrass, after a pause.

'An alliance?' asked Professor McGonagall. 'Of what sort?'

Mr Greengrass hesitated slightly, then said, 'Marital.'

Harry felt Daphne squeeze his hand a bit tighter than usual; he rubbed his thumb around her hand to calm her down, even though he felt a swooping sensation of anger towards Lucius Malfoy and the ferret. So, Malfoy thought he was worthy of Daphne's affections, did he?

Sirius had an unreadable expression on his face as he looked at the Greengrass adults; it was hard to tell what was going on behind those eyes of his – eyes that had not yet lost the deadened, distant look, as a souvenir of his stay in Azkaban prison. He nodded slowly as he took another sip of Butterbeer, but, once again, said nothing more.

'His first approach was three years ago, before Astoria was to join Hogwarts,' said Mr Greengrass. 'Naturally, I dismissed him without so much as a backward glance.' He sighed, as though regretting his past actions. 'Lucius must have taken that rather personally.'

'Yes, I expect he has,' said Professor McGonagall dryly. Fred and George snickered quietly at the statement.

'Be that as it may,' said Dumbledore, 'the actions of his Death Eaters appear to suggest that Voldemort is not averse to moving out into the open. As much as I know Voldemort, having taught him in Hogwarts myself, I admit I am at a loss to explain this new approach of his.'

No one said anything to that – not that they had anything to say in the first place, Harry thought. He did understand what Dumbledore was referring to, however – his mind went back to the very first discussion with the Order on the evening he'd arrived at Grimmauld Place, where Sirius had explained how Voldemort worked.

'Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry. He tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. He's well practised at operating in secret.'

But Dumbledore was right – this new tactic of his was at complete odds with what they had expected from Voldemort. Was he employing this approach only because the Greengrasses were pure-bloods, or because they were neutral the last time round, and had the potential to sway either way in this war? Harry couldn't make sense of it, and, as Dumbledore had mentioned, neither could he.

He refocused his attention on the conversation when Daphne squeezed his hand gently.

'…cannot forego appearances at the Ministry, Albus,' Mr Greengrass was saying. 'It will not bode well for my family if I do so, they will think we have gone into hiding, and that is a sure sign that Voldemort will go after me more aggressively, if anything.'

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes fixed on Mr Greengrass. 'What are you suggesting, Jonathan?'

'Izzy and I will return to our Manor. The Death Eaters cannot harm me there – the wards invoked by my ancestors promises a painful end to those who attempt to do so. I will continue to work, keep up appearances –'

'And the girls, Jon?' asked Mrs Greengrass, speaking for the first time since they had entered the dining room.

'Let them stay here,' he replied. 'We will tell everyone that they have gone to my cousin's home in Vienna for the summer, but only if asked. He stays in a secluded and well-protected manor – the Death Eaters will not think of going there.'

'Why not let them stay at Greengrass Manor, if it is so well protected?' asked Hestia. 'Why the elaborate ruse?'

Harry was wondering the same thing himself – if the wards around Greengrass Manor protected all of them, it made sense to have them all there.

'Greengrass Manor is rather well-known and conspicuous. While I agree that having everyone together would present a strong front, it may open us to other lines of attack from Voldemort and his followers. I would not risk the safety of my daughters for that.' He paused, then added, in a softer tone, 'Plus, the wards need to be strengthened.'

Harry saw all three Greengrass females stare at the head of their House in surprise.

'They do?' asked Astoria.

Mr Greengrass nodded, but did not elaborate.

'Will you be leaving tonight?' asked Dumbledore.

'Not tonight, no,' said Mr Greengrass. 'I would prefer to wait a week or so before returning to the Manor. We shook off our tail in Milan – I can explain that we were at the villa there during this week before dropping the girls off at Vienna and returning home.'

'Very well,' said Dumbledore cheerfully, his eyes twinkling once again. 'With that settled, I would like to discuss other things of importance. Firstly…' he turned to Harry, even though he still did not look directly into his eyes. 'Your hearing, Harry.'

Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt at Dumbledore's words. He had been thinking about the hearing every now and then these last two weeks, but no one else had raised it as a conversation topic since Sirius had mentioned it after he, Harry, had apologised to Mrs Weasley. It had hung over him like a small dark cloud, persistently refusing the occasional shafts of happy thoughts to pierce through and lighten his day completely.

It was a few seconds before Harry noticed that the Greengrasses did not know about his upcoming hearing – they were all sporting expressions of confusion of varying degrees. Daphne, in particular, was looking at him in a little alarm.

'A hearing?' she asked, her grip tightening around Harry's hand under the table. 'What for?'

It took the combined efforts of Hermione and Dumbledore to explain the entire situation to them. When they had finished, Astoria looked shocked, while both Mr and Mrs Greengrass adults had pensive looks. Daphne's expression, however, was the one that caught Harry's attention: her look of alarm had transitioned into one of worry and apprehension. Harry's stomach gave a funny leap at the sight – the fact that she cared, this much, meant so much more to him than he could possibly express in words.

'Death Eaters and Dementors,' murmured Mr Greengrass, shaking his head. 'Have they deserted the Ministry already to side with Voldemort?'

'Not to our knowledge,' said Dumbledore. 'Our contacts within the Ministry assure us that the Dementors are still under their control.'

'Which means someone wanted Mr Potter here to be silenced,' concluded Mr Greengrass. 'Rather emphatically, might I add.'

The implications of that statement hit Harry on the head with the force of a large Quaffle that he'd forgotten to catch. He'd known that the Ministry was working on swaying public opinion against him, but to actually have him silenced…

'It could also mean that a Death Eater inside the Ministry triggered an attack by sending those Dementors,' said Sirius. 'We can't rule that out.'

'No, we can't,' agreed Mr Greengrass. His sapphire blue eyes were narrowed in thought, as though contemplating an interesting mark on the large table before him. 'But it is unusual…'

'Are there Death Eaters in the Auror ranks, then?' asked Fred.

'None that we know of, Mr Weasley,' replied Professor McGonagall. 'Although, I seem to recall Amelia telling me that only certain high-ranking officials had the power to direct the Dementors of Azkaban.'

'High-ranking officials?' said George. 'As in, Fudge?'

'Amongst a few others, yes,' confirmed Dumbledore. 'It is a grave situation, and as Jonathan has rightly pointed out, a rather unusual one. Personally, however, my focus is on building Harry's defence for his hearing.'

'Do you intend to argue for him, Albus?' asked Mr Greengrass, now meeting the headmaster's eyes.

'I had contemplated doing so,' said Dumbledore, stroking his chin as he sat back in his chair. 'As I am no longer the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I am free to argue as the defendant's representative. Given the circumstances, however…'

'I would not advise it, Albus,' said Mr Greengrass. 'It would amount to blatant favouritism if you showed up as Mr Potter's defence advocate. He must be represented by someone…impartial.'

All eyes at the table swivelled to Mr Greengrass, even as the man continued to look at Dumbledore. Harry took a moment to figure it out, and voiced it before anyone else did so.

'You?'

Mr Greengrass looked away from Dumbledore to gaze at Harry. The sapphire blue eyes seemed to look right through him – just like Dumbledore's did – and he could now understand why Sirius was nervous earlier under Mr Greengrass' scrutiny.

'I would not mind doing so, Mr Potter,' said Mr Greengrass. 'I am, as they say, a neutral party in this entire conflict. I would have nothing apparent to gain from the outcome of this hearing, apart from a small dent to my reputation should you lose. As it stands, I find it unlikely that you would lose this hearing, given that you have a plausible story that is backed up by witnesses –'

'Ah,' interrupted Dumbledore. 'I fear that is where we may hit our first snag, Jonathan.'

Mr Greengrass looked nonplussed at Dumbledore, waiting for him to elaborate, which he did.

'The witnesses.'

'What about them?'

Harry thought he realised what Dumbledore was getting at – it was something that had struck his mind, too, while he'd been brooding over the hearing. To his surprise, Ron spoke up first.

'How will we explain Tonks and my Dad being there at Privet Drive? Not to mention Hermione, too.'

Mr Greengrass seemed completely thrown by this – whether it was because he didn't have an answer to the question, or he didn't even think this was a valid question in the first place. Nevertheless, he sat quite silent as everyone else, thinking of a solution.

'That can be managed,' said Dumbledore after a couple of minutes. 'We shall think of something before going for the hearing. In any case,' he addressed Mr Greengrass, 'am I right in presuming that you would be amiable to represent Harry in his hearing?'

'Yes, of course, Albus,' said Mr Greengrass. 'We will formulate a strategy with Mr Potter while we are here. The hearing is on the twelfth of August, yes? Then we have time to prepare.'

Harry nodded at this, a feeling of hope cresting within him. He was, truth be told, a bit overwhelmed at the show of support from everyone present, but the icing on the proverbial cake was Mr Greengrass' willingness to act as his representative at the hearing. He wondered what it would have been like if he hadn't spoken to Dumbledore earlier that evening – he probably would have floundered his way through the hearing, not knowing what exactly to say, or how to defend any possible arguments…

'Thank you, sir,' he told Mr Greengrass, who nodded. Daphne squeezed his hand once again.

Footsteps sounded across the hallway outside, prompting Mrs Weasley to step outside and check who it was. There was a general lull in the conversation as they waited for her to return – which she did, five minutes later, with Mr Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

'May I introduce Arthur Weasley, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora –' Tonks made a small noise of disgust, to no avail '– Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt,' said Dumbledore, standing up to introduce them to Mr and Mrs Greengrass. 'Gentlemen, lady, this is Jonathan and Isabella Greengrass, and their two daughters, Daphne and Astoria.'

'Professor Lupin?' chorused Daphne and Astoria, staring at their one-time Defence against the Dark Arts professor.

'Yeah, that was our reaction, too,' said Fred and George in amusement.

'Good evening, you two,' said Lupin warmly. 'I trust you are both well?'

The two girls merely nodded, evidently still surprised that he was there in the same house. He chuckled at their reaction, before hurrying forward to shake hands with Mr Greengrass.

The gathering broke up rather quickly after that. The new arrivals wanted to discuss Order-related matters with Dumbledore and Mr Greengrass; with a swift nod in his direction from the headmaster, Harry recognised his dismissal from the room. He did not complain though – he had learned enough about what was happening from their earlier conversation, and didn't feel like pushing his luck in getting any more information from Dumbledore. In any case, he figured as he climbed the stairs to their rooms, if there was something worth knowing, he was sure Sirius would tell him.

The teenagers split up on the second landing, with the girls going off to their rooms, while the boys traipsed further upstairs to theirs. Mrs Weasley was still downstairs, so they could have still continued a discussion in one of the rooms, but the day's events had caught up with them. Harry, especially, felt quite knackered, what with the cleaning, the shock of seeing Daphne, confronting Dumbledore, and processing the things he'd heard and learned about in the dining room.

Quite frankly, he was all set to have a good long sleep – something hopefully undisturbed by thoughts of long corridors or the upcoming hearing.

Unfortunately, that flew out the window within five minutes of he and Ron getting into bed.

'Harry?' said a soft voice.

It was Mrs Weasley; without his glasses, Harry could just make out the shape of – someone – poking their head into the room, but he recognised the voice immediately. He sat up, hastily placing his glasses on his face as Mrs Weasley's visage came into clearer focus. Beside him, Ron was already snoring deeply.

'Harry, dear, Professor Dumbledore wants to have a word with you downstairs.'

Dumbledore wants to speak with me?

Mystified, and a little groggily, Harry got out of bed and followed Mrs Weasley downstairs to the dining room, where Dumbledore was waiting with Mr Greengrass. No one else was around.

'Harry, I'm so sorry to disturb you in your sleep, but this could not wait,' said Dumbledore apologetically. Harry noticed that the headmaster still wasn't making eye contact.

Harry shrugged. 'It's alright, Professor,' he said. 'What's happened?'

'Nothing's happened, yet,' said Dumbledore, with a genial chuckle. 'I was telling Jonathan about your request earlier this evening to be more involved in discussions, and to be kept updated in what's going on in our resistance against Voldemort.'

Harry didn't know what he had to say to this, so he merely nodded and stayed silent.

'I also told him, and the other members of the Order, that I had agreed to your requests, with the condition that I let you know only what I think is necessary, and, for lack of a better word, non-crucial.'

Again, Harry nodded, looking from Dumbledore to Mr Greengrass.

'Jonathan here,' he indicated Mr Greengrass, 'feels that while you are trustworthy enough not to reveal this information to anyone willingly, you must be able to protect your mind, in the event that someone with less than noble intentions wishes to obtain such information.'

Harry was paying a bit more attention now. Mr Greengrass wasn't looking at Harry, but was staring in another direction; Harry could tell he was listening intently, though – his eyes were fixed on a particular point on the opposite wall.

'To this rate, we discussed, and thought it necessary, that you must be taught on how to protect your mind from such intrusions.'

'Like mind reading?' asked Harry suddenly. 'Sir?' he added hurriedly, afraid he'd sounded rude.

'Not quite,' said Dumbledore with a smile. 'Tell me, Harry, have you heard of Occlumency?'


To be continued…