This is the first short chapter to introduce a story idea I had to get out of my head. Albus Dumbledore is not as old as he should be in this story (imagine him to look like he did during Fantastic Beasts). AU during First Wizarding War. Updated first chapter.
1977 - late February - Dumbledore Manor
In the dimly lit room of Dumbledore Manor, the air hung heavy with anticipation as Albus Dumbledore surveyed the gathered witches and wizards. Two years ago, Albus inherited the manor from his late great-aunt on his father's side and decided to use it as the headquarter for the Order of the Phoenix, since he spends most of his time at the school anyway. In the past months, their meetings increased in frequency, as the attacks from the Death Eaters seemed to double each month. Breaking the silence with a solemn tone, he turned to his companions with a pressing question.
"Any news regarding the recruitment of new Death Eaters?" Dumbledore's inquiry cut through the quiet, his piercing gaze fixed on the faces before him. The Order has been trying to gain better insights into how the Death Eaters increase their numbers by the day. While only the inner circle of them bears the Dark Mark, the number of Voldemort's supporters is rapidly increasing. Kingsley Shacklebolt, his demeanour serious, shook his head in response. "Not much. We couldn't track his progress regarding recruiting the giants, and it appears they are trying to recruit students either still in Hogwarts or freshly graduated. Gideon spotted Antonin Dolohov out in Hogsmeade during the last school weekend," he revealed, his voice low.
The news of Antonin Dolohov spotted in Hogsmeade weighed heavily on Minerva McGonagall. "That's highly concerning. They are children," she remarked, her voice laced with determination. As the head of Gryffindor, she felt a deep responsibility to protect the students under her care. The thought of Death Eaters preying on young witches and wizards filled her with a sense of urgency. Minerva knew that they needed to be alert in the coming weeks.
"It was to be expected though," Fabian joined the conversation with a grim expression on his face. While he and his brother were fairly young and had only joined the Auror Department a couple of years ago, they had been at the frontlines of this war long enough. Many of his classmates from Hogwarts worked at the Ministry or Gringotts, and he knew the majority of the Slytherin students either joined Voldemort directly or quietly supported his slaughter of Muggles and Muggleborns.
Alastor Moody grunted in agreement. "We'll need to tighten our surveillance. Fabian, I expect a stricter patrol schedule on my desk tomorrow. We also need to revisit our conversation about our own recruitment strategies" he commanded, his steely gaze fixed on the plans spread out before him, not waiting for a response from the young auror.
"You can't be seriously considering recruiting students yourself? We try to prevent Voldemort from recruiting students, yet you want to do the same?", Minerva asks appalled.
"What choice do we have? Most of the Slytherin students will be forced into his service or his following. Most adult witches and wizards either don't want to pick a side, scared of the consequences, or they are already influenced by Voldemort's supporters, even without knowing it. We have to move delicately, and therefore our best option would be students not affiliated with any known Death Eater families," Alastor insisted.
Albus watched the heated discussion between Minerva and Alastor with a creased brow. He wants to protect the children as long as possible, just like Minerva, but if the war proceeds with the speed it does at the moment, they might not have another choice but to recruit students themselves.
"Everyone from the Order must gather intel on witches and wizards from their workplace. See if anyone is outspoken against Voldemort and his Death Eaters or find someone who could be swayed. Let's leave the children out of it for as long as we can, but I fear we might have to include them sooner than later for them to have a future at all," Albus spoke, hoping to appease both sides of the argument and find a diplomatic middle way.
Arthur Weasley, the voice of reason amidst the tension, spoke up to change the topic. "We must address the issue of communication through the Floo Network," he insisted, his tone grave. "Euphilia Edgecombe's acceptance to The Floo Network Authority and her ties to Alecto Carrow pose a significantly higher security risk than before."
As Arthur's words hung in the air, murmurs began to ripple through the assembled witches and wizards, their voices blending into an indistinct cacophony. Conversations overlapped, each individual offering their own perspective on the pressing issue at hand.
Amidst the chatter, Albus's expression underwent a subtle transformation. Memories of the previous night flooded his mind, igniting a whirlwind of conflicting emotions beneath his typically composed exterior. While the most trusted Order members had seized all communication via the Floo Network months ago, scared of being overheard, he did occasionally use the Floo for personal matters. Despite the turmoil raging within him, he maintained a facade of calm, nodding in apparent agreement with Arthur's assessment. Yet, beneath the surface, a silent storm of uncertainty and concern continued to brew, unnoticed amidst the clamour of voices filling the room.
"I believe it's prudent to station some of our members around Hogsmeade during upcoming school visits. Spread the word to those who couldn't make it tonight about the limitations of the Floo Network and—" Before he could finish his sentence, a pop of apparition tore through the room, followed by a blinding light and a piercing scream. Startled, most of the adults in the room leaped from their seats, shielding their eyes while instinctively reaching for their wands.
As the light faded and their eyes adjusted, the occupants of the room were met with a gut-wrenching sight. A young woman sat at the center of the table, her thick, dark curls stained with blood trickling down her neck and mingling with the crimson flow from multiple wounds on her arms and torso. Jagged gashes marred her pale skin, oozing blood in rivulets that traced a macabre path across her body. Each wound told a tale of violence, the result of a brutal struggle. With trembling hands, she cradled the lifeless face of the older woman, her fingers gently caressing the contours of skin chilled by death. The older woman's eyes, wide open in a ghastly expression of horror, seemed to stare into an unseen abyss, frozen in a moment of terror endured in her final breaths. Despite the absence of movement, the starkness of her gaze conveyed a chilling narrative of the horrors witnessed in her last moments, haunting the room with an unsettling presence.
"No no no no no no!" the young woman cried, tears streaming down her face, mixing with the blood. Her voice was raw with brokenness as she rocked back and forth, holding onto the older woman. An unmistakable resemblance between them was evident, from the curve of their brows to the tilt of their noses. The young witch kept muttering in a foreign language, cradling the face of the older woman, holding her close. The devastation mixed with her injuries made many of the occupants of the room sick to their stomachs. Some of the onlookers began to lower their wands, their eyes fixed on the devastating tableau unfolding before them, their hearts heavy with sorrow. Meanwhile, the young woman's cries quieted down to a faint muttering of words in a foreign language that none of them understood.
After the initial shock wore off, soft murmurs rippled through the room like a gentle breeze, gradually growing louder until they formed a chorus of hushed voices. The sound not only captured the young woman's attention but also snapped Albus out of his reverie. He turned his panicked eyes toward the young woman as she anxiously scanned the room, her gaze flickering in and out of focus. Unaware of her surroundings or simply too exhausted to take them in, panic settled in her bones again, and her heartbeat increased tenfold. With trembling hands, she reluctantly released her mother's side to search for her wand, while the other clung tightly to the lifeless form. Eventually, her eyes settled on Albus, immediately filled with guilt. All the tension left her body, and her resolve faltered in the face of exhaustion and fear. Tears streamed down her face as adrenaline ebbed away, leaving her drained and broken from the unexplained assault.
As her vision blurred and her strength waned, the young woman's voice quivered as she uttered one final word, gaze fixed on Albus, before succumbing to exhaustion: 'Dad.'
The sudden collapse of the young woman sent shockwaves through the room, triggering a flurry of activity as witches and wizards rushed to her aid, with Albus among the first to reach her side, gently grasping her hand. Voices overlapped in a cacophony of concern, wands were drawn, and spells were cast in a desperate attempt to stabilize her condition.
In the dimly lit room of Dumbledore Manor, Albus Dumbledore, often regarded as an emblem of unwavering strength, now stood cloaked in the shadow of grief, his heart heavy with the weight of loss and uncertainty.