Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, a curious expression on his face. He noticed Pansy nearby, hunched over a piece of parchment with a quill in her hand.

"Who are you writing to?" Harry asked Pansy, curiosity piqued.

Pansy looked up from her letter, her lips curling into a small smile. "I'm writing to Theo."

Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Theo? Are you talking about Theo, my sister's best friend?"

Pansy couldn't help but mockingly raise an eyebrow. "What other Theo do you know?"

Across the table, Blaise was engrossed in reading his own letter, chuckling softly to himself as he sipped his coffee. Draco, sitting beside him, couldn't help but be intrigued.

"What's got you laughing so much, Blaise?" Draco inquired.

Blaise lowered the letter to meet Draco's curious gaze. "This letter is from Mia."

Harry frowned, puzzled. "Wait, how are you talking to my sister?"

Blaise leaned in, a grin playing at his lips. "Well, it turns out that my mother and Mia's parents became friends at a charity gala last September. Mom found Mia to be quite a formidable young lady, the epitome of elegance she said."

Harry grumbled, feeling left out. "I haven't received any letters from my older sister."

Pansy and Blaise exchanged glances, and Pansy turned her gaze back to Harry, a scolding tone in her voice. "I wouldn't have written to you either, Potter."

Harry's indignation flared. "What?"

Blaise chimed in with a serious tone, "Well, Potter, you were a bit of an asshole at Mia's birthday party."

Draco furrowed his brow. "Hold on, how do you know that if you weren't even at the party, Blaise?"

Blaise simply shrugged. "Mia told me."

Harry was still flustered. "I didn't know she was going to react that way to a hug."

Pansy, glaring at Harry, spoke up. "When a woman tells you to let her go, you let her go without being told twice."

Harry was taken aback. "I didn't know she had been assaulted!"

Pansy raised an eyebrow, emphasizing her point. "You're really acting like a 's called consent, Potter."

Harry frowned, defending his actions. "She's my sister; I don't need her permission to hug her."

Blaise interjected with a skeptical look. "Does Mia really consider you her brother?"

Harry responded without hesitation, "Yes, she does."

Pansy leaned in, her expression serious. "Potter, you and Mia only met two years ago, and you only see each other during the holidays, at best. That's not enough to consider yourselves family."

Harry criticized, frustration in his voice, "It's not my fault she doesn't come to Hogwarts. I'd see her more if it weren't for her social agenda."

Blaise chuckled and looked at Harry knowingly. "Above all else, Mia is the heir to one of the largest fortunes in Europe. If I were you I'd start by digesting that, her social agenda is only going to grow as she comes of age"

Harry couldn't contain his frustration any longer. "The Borgheses aren't her real family! I am. My dad, my mum. We are her family"

Pansy stood up abruptly, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Harry. "You should be thankful Mia isn't at Hogwarts to hear you talk about her family like that."

Blaise joined in, standing up as well, his voice firm. "You're acting like a spoiled child and a lousy brother if you really think that about Mia and her family."

Harry turned to Ron, looking somewhat troubled, and asked if he shared the same sentiments as Pansy and Blaise.

Ron scratched his neck, appearing hesitant. "Well, mate," he began, "I've got to say, you and Draco have been acting a bit... different since September."

Draco furrowed his brow, genuinely curious. "Different? How so, Ron?"

Ron explained, "Since you two became Quidditch players, it's like the rest of us don't exist. You've changed."

Harry protested, leaning forward. "Ron, that's not true! We're still the same people."

Neville, who had been somewhat quiet, suddenly found his voice. "Ron's got a point, Harry. You and Draco have all these girls chasing after you now, and you seem more interested in flirting with them than hanging out with us."

Draco couldn't help but smile, clearly enjoying the attention. "Can you blame us if the girls can't resist our charm?"

Ron rolled his eyes and shot back, "That's exactly what we're talking about. You two have become arrogant."

Harry turned to Ron, a bit hurt. "Are you just jealous that Draco and I play Quidditch and you don't?"

Ron shook his head firmly. "No, Harry. I have five brothers, and I know what jealousy feels like. When I see you two, I don't feel jealous. I feel sorry."

Harry looked puzzled. "Sorry? Why?"

Ron sighed, his tone more serious now. "Because you've both let this newfound popularity go to your heads. When you get both of your heads out of your bloody arses, we can talk." With that, Ron and Neville got up from the table and left, leaving Harry and Draco sitting there, feeling a bit chastened and alone.

In his office at the Ministry of Magic, James sat at his desk, a deep furrow etched across his forehead. He was frustrated, feeling at a loss about what to do with his daughter, Mia. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed like he wasn't making any progress. James didn't want to force Mia into anything, but he couldn't help but wonder why she was so reluctant to live with him, Lily, and Harry.

Another issue weighed heavily on his mind: Barty Crouch Jr. The young man had not shown any signs of life since the appearance of the Dark Mark in Hyde Park. James couldn't decide whether he should feel relieved or worried about Crouch's silence.

His troubled thoughts were interrupted as Alastor Moody, the grizzled Auror, entered his office, whistling a tune that sounded oddly familiar. James wasn't an expert in classical music, but he recognized the melody as Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. He raised an eyebrow at the unusual display of cheerfulness from Moody.

James gestured to a chair and greeted Moody, "You seem unusually cheerful today, Alastor."

Moody grinned and took a seat. "I am indeed, James."

Curious, James leaned forward and asked, "What brings you to my office today?"

Moody leaned back in his chair and said, "I've heard about your problems with Dumbledore and the Dementors."

James nodded, his frustration evident. "Yes, it's been quite a challenge."

Moody's smile widened as he revealed his plan. "I've come to offer a solution."

Intrigued, James inquired, "And how do you plan to solve the problem?"

Moody leaned in, his magical eye spinning in its socket as he explained, "Send me to Hogwarts as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

James considered the idea for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "That could be a good idea, Alastor."

Moody assured him, "Dumbledore trusts me. He won't have any trouble hiring me."

James nodded in agreement. "Very well. I'll make it happen. And I'll send two squads of Aurors with you to Hogwarts."

Moody nodded approvingly. "If it eases your mind, I have no objections."

James smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Alastor."

Moody waved off the thanks with a gruff, "It's nothing."

As he turned to leave the office, Moody paused halfway and turned back to James, a serious expression in his eye. "By the way, James, Dumbledore is planning the revival of the Order of the Phoenix."

James nodded in acknowledgment, but he failed to notice the subtle blue glow in Moody's eye as the man walked away, still whistling Moonlight Sonata.

Green flames erupted from the fireplace in the dimly lit room, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Barty Crouch Jr., disguised as an Auror, stepped out of the floo network and quickly brushed away the lingering ash.

Moody, the grizzled and vigilant Alastor Moody, was waiting for him. He regarded Barty with a stern expression. "Well?" he grumbled impatiently.

Barty grinned wickedly and leaned closer to Moody. "Alastor, pack your bags because you're the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Moody let out a low growl, his magical eye swiveling suspiciously. "I hate children."

Barty chuckled lightly. "Kids are easy to handle. If you teach them four spells and give them a test at the end of the year, it'll be fine."

Moody, still grumbling, asked, "What's the plan, then?"

Barty leaned in even closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. "You, Alastor, will be my eyes and ears inside Hogwarts. When you find out the dates of the Order meetings, you'll tell me."

Moody's one visible eye widened in surprise. "How did you know Dumbledore's planning to revive the Order?"

Barty smiled slyly. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

Moody, ever the cautious one, pressed on. "And what do you plan to do when you obtain the meeting dates?"

Barty's eyes glinted with mischief. "Simple. I'll take on your guise, Alastor, to attend the meetings."

Moody, still skeptical, pointed out, "Order meetings can be quite long. Polyjuice potion won't last that long."

Barty grinned, revealing his cunning. "I won't be taking Polyjuice. I'll inject it. It'll last longer, and I won't have to suffer that wretched taste of the potion."

Moody suddenly became wary. "Why are you telling me all this?"

Barty's smile remained, though it took on a more sinister edge. "Because, Alastor, I trust your judgment to do things right. This is my kind side."

Moody raised an eyebrow. "And what's your less kind side?"

Barty's mischievous grin widened, and he leaned in even closer to Moody. "My less kind side would be to Imperio you and lock you in a boot with a Draught of the Living Dead in your system. And you don't want that, do you?"

Moody nodded quickly, his distrust apparent, and Barty couldn't help but revel in the satisfaction of his cunning plan.

In Dumbledore's office, a heated argument was unfolding. Sybill Trelawney, Severus Snape, and Albus Dumbledore stood around the desk, their expressions tense and worried.

"What the hell is this, Albus?" Snape demanded, slamming a dagger onto the desk in frustration.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, concerned. "I don't know. Please, Severus, tell me."

Snape scowled and explained that he had received a mysterious package months ago, containing the dagger, black roses, and a note that simply said, "I know it was your idea."

Sybill's eyes widened in alarm, and she chimed in, "I received a similar package, Severus."

Dumbledore took a deep breath and asked, "And what did your package contain, Sybill?"

Trembling slightly, Sybill replied, "Inside mine were black roses, a white plastic ball, and a note that said, 'I know what you did.'"

As Dumbledore contemplated their words, Snape grew increasingly agitated. "Someone is playing with us," he seethed, gesturing angrily at the dagger on the desk.

Sybill nodded, her worry evident. "Someone has discovered our secret, Albus. They know that we had something to do with Evan Rosier's death."

Dumbledore shook his head, trying to remain calm. "That can't be. Evan is dead, and we've covered our tracks."

Snape's anger flared, and he snapped, "Apparently, not well enough, if someone is sending us packages with hints," he said, pointing angrily at the dagger.

Dumbledore tried to downplay it, suggesting, "Perhaps these objects are mere coincidences."

Snape's patience wore thin. "The dagger I received clearly alludes to Sectumsempra, and the plastic ball is unmistakably a reference to a false prophecy.

Sybill turned to Dumbledore, her voice trembling. "Have you received any packages, Albus?"

Dumbledore shook his head, his expression if in response to their conversation, a constant ringing filled Dumbledore's office. With a simple wave of his hand, Dumbledore opened the window, and a black crow swooped inside, delivering a package onto the desk before swiftly departing.

The three of them stared at the mysterious package. Dumbledore carefully opened it and found a dozen roses inside, with the Rosier family ring nestled among them. Attached to the ring was a chilling note that read, "I'm coming for you."

Worried and apprehensive, Sybill turned to Dumbledore. "What do we do now, Albus?"

Dumbledore, examining the ominous ring, knew they had to take action. "We're going to call the Order," he declared with determination.

In the quiet cemetery, Barty Crouch Jr. stood before a grave, its headstone barely visible under the blanket of snow. As he shoveled the snow away, he began to speak to the grave as if in conversation with the departed.

"Hello Evan, it's me," Barty murmured, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination.

"I came to tell you that I already have everything prepared. No one knows what is coming to them," he continued, his words carrying a sense of sinister purpose. "As you know and have probably seen, I really like the dramatic vein."

Barty paused, reminiscing about times long past. "I remember when we sat down to talk with Pandora about how we would intimidate our enemies, and you suggested the package deal. I would've given anything to see Snape, Trelawney, and Dumbledore's faces when they opened their packages."

He then turned his attention to a more personal matter. "I also come to tell you that Mia is safe. I haven't told anyone she is. I'm going to make sure your death wasn't in vain."

A hint of melancholy crept into his voice as he continued, "I may die, or I may spend my life locked up in Azkaban for what I'm going to do, but it will all be worth it if I first have the heads of Dumbledore, Snape, and Trelawney on a silver platter."

With unwavering determination, Barty declared, "I'm prepared to die. After all, you will be waiting for me, and an eternity by your side doesn't sound bad. I love you. I will be back soon."

As he finished speaking, a voice disrupted the solitude of the cemetery. "Beautiful speech, seriously," said the voice of Regulus Black.

Startled, Barty turned to face Regulus. "How did you find me?" he inquired, his eyes narrowing.

"You always were a poet at heart," Regulus remarked, his tone wistful.

Barty was puzzled. "What does that have to do with anything?

Regulus explained, "Evan used to be the one who listened to you when you went into poet mode."

Barty frowned, wondering why Regulus was at the cemetery. "So, what are you doing here?" he asked

Regulus warned him, "They are coming for you."

Barty scoffed, seemingly unbothered. "Let them come."

Frustration marked Regulus's voice as he insisted, "They could kill you."

Barty chuckled bitterly. "I've been dead for years. I died the moment Evan bleed to death in that forest"

Regulus couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You can't be serious. You're too young to die."

"Don't you understand?," Barty shouted, anguish and longing in his voice. "Life without Evan is no life."

Regulus pleaded with him, "Evan wouldn't want to see you dead just because you wanted revenge for his death."

Barty looked away, his expression conflicted. "If I die, Evan can have all eternity to complain about it ," he said finally, and with that, Barty disappeared, leaving Regulus alone in the cold and silent cemetery.