The Order of the Black Cat

by xWolfx93

During his first year at Hogwarts, Harry befriends Daphne Greengrass and encounters Jingles, a magical cat. Their revelations help Harry see the world isn't just black and white and give him what he always wanted: a family. Together, they form a secret society to better the wizarding world. The OC will be a brotherly figure to Harry. No SI. This is a longfic.

53. A new foe

Chapter 53 – A new foe

A couple of days later, two new visitors appeared at Black Castle, arriving just as dusk began to settle over its ancient, towering spires. Hermione, her brown eyes shining with the thrill of adventure, and her boyfriend, Ernie, whose easy smile spoke of shared excitement. Hermione had of course announced their visit via letter, a piece of parchment that now lay folded in Harry's pocket, a reminder of the upcoming dual purpose of their visit: a heartwarming reunion with friends and the solemn induction of Ernie into the Order of the Black Cat.

The Order members currently residing within the shadowed walls of Black Castle—Harry, Tracey, Astoria, Ginny, Luna, Daphne, and Rigel—gathered in the cellar. This vast, dimly lit chamber, as Rigel explained, was mostly unused. Some forgotten furniture, relics of the castle's storied past, lay stowed against the walls, shrouded in shadows.

They all wore their Order Robes, a symbol of their commitment, as they moved. The masks they donned concealed their identities, turning familiar faces into ones of solemnity. For Ernie, Hermione knew, this was a significant moment, marking his entrance into a world of high stakes and deep trust.

Hermione led Ernie into the chamber, her hand clasping his for reassurance. Rigel, with a voice distorted by his mask, stepped forward to greet them. "Ernie MacMillan, you stand before the Order of the Black Cat," he declared, setting a serious tone for the meeting.

With a welcoming yet solemn gesture, Rigel caused the torches along the walls to leap and change colour from fiery red to deep purple, marking a symbolic transition into the Order's realm of mystery and duty.

Beside Hermione, Ernie took in the scene, the masked faces around him signalling the gravity of his induction. He felt the weight of this new world of responsibilities and trust, ready to embrace the challenges and bonds that lay ahead.

This was a gathering of individuals united not only by shared experiences and goals but also by a commitment to defend and uphold their world. Hermione gave Ernie's hand a reassuring squeeze, signalling the challenges that lay ahead but also the steadfast support the Order would offer.

Rigel, standing before the gathered assembly with an aura of solemnity, addressed Ernie directly, his voice carrying the weight of their cause. "We, the Order of the Black Cat, are united by a singular vision—to reform the wizarding world into a place of equality and opportunity. A world where one's background or blood status does not dictate their future, where happiness and achievement are within everyone's grasp. We invite you, Ernie, to join us in this cause."

Ernie, initially taken aback by the solemn atmosphere and purple flames, looked to Hermione for reassurance. Her encouraging nod bolstered his resolve. "I—I accept your offer," he said, voice steady. "I believe in your cause and am honoured to join you."

Tracey stepped forward and handed Ernie a set of dark grey robes with black trim and a mask, signifying his acceptance into the Order. A black cat was embroidered on the chest, symbolising their shared cause. To Ernie, these robes represented not just a garment but a new responsibility he was ready to embrace.

Rigel, with a nod of approval, removed his mask, a signal to the others that the formalities of the induction were complete. One by one, the members of the Order revealed their faces, expressions of welcome and solidarity shining through. "We are pleased to have you onboard, Ernie," Rigel stated, his unmasked face friendly yet marked by the leadership he bore. "The Order is built on trust, a foundation that will support us as we grow and welcome new members who share our vision."

He continued, explaining the necessity of codenames within the Order. "In time, we will invite others not from our immediate circle. For their safety and ours, it's imperative we use only codenames in Order settings. It's about protecting each other while we work towards our common goal."

Ernie nodded, his understanding clear. "I understand, and thank you, truly, for this opportunity. I won't let you down."

Rigel smiled, a gesture of camaraderie and reassurance. "We'll have Hermione fill you in on everything—our codenames, our plans. But for now, let's enjoy the summer we have. What say you all to a swim in the lake?"

The suggestion was met with eager nods and smiles, a momentary release from the weight of their cause. The atmosphere lightened as they dispersed, each heading to their respective rooms within the vast, storied confines of Black Castle to change into appropriate attire for a swim in the lake's cool, inviting waters.

The transition from the dim, purpose-filled chamber to the bright, sunlit expanse of the castle grounds was swift. Laughter and chatter replaced solemn vows and shared visions as they gathered by the lake, the warmth of the summer sun a gentle reminder of the world they were fighting to protect and change.

As they stepped into the clear, refreshing water, the members of the Order of the Black Cat were reminded that amidst their serious undertaking, moments of joy and camaraderie were just as vital. In the laughter and splashes, in the shared glances and smiles, there was strength and renewal, a binding force that would carry them through the challenges ahead.

~~~o~~~

Over the next few days at Black Castle, while the warm embrace of summer encouraged relaxation and camaraderie among the Order members, Rigel found himself entrenched in a battle of wits and strategy. His days were consumed with orchestrating a subtle but impactful campaign from the shadows. With Cornelius Fudge as a pawn in his grand chess game, Rigel issued a series of commands and manipulated events with a dexterity that would have impressed even the most seasoned political strategist. His goal was clear: to ensure that Amelia Bones had the best chance of winning the race for Minister for Magic. Her main competition, Lucius Malfoy, represented the antithesis of what Rigel believed the wizarding world needed. Thus, through a combination of misinformation, strategic leaks, and the occasional use of well-timed illusions, Rigel worked tirelessly to tilt the scales in Amelia's favour, making Malfoy's campaign trail fraught with unexpected challenges and public scrutiny.

While Rigel navigated the complex realm of political strategy, Daphne and Hermione tackled a unique challenge of their own. In the privacy of Daphne and Rigel's room within Black Castle, Daphne shared her latest spellcrafting theories with Hermione, with a focus on the subtleties of Rigel's illusion magic. Hermione's keen insight and ability to offer significant assistance were crucial as they examined Daphne's detailed formulas. Working together, they explored the depths of magical theory, with Hermione contributing greatly and offering fresh viewpoints that enhanced their project significantly. Their collaborative effort highlighted the strength of combining their knowledge and the deep respect they held for one another's skills, not only pushing forward their spellcrafting endeavours but also solidifying their friendship.

Meanwhile, the Weasley twins, Fred and George, were nearing the culmination of their own ambitious project. After countless hours of planning, brainstorming, and not a small amount of mischief, they had finally finalised their plans for their joke shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Their search for the perfect location had taken them across much of Diagon Alley until they stumbled upon a property that seemed to have been waiting just for them. It was situated in a prime spot, guaranteed to attract the attention of passersby with its potential for foot traffic and visibility. The property didn't come cheap, but for Fred and George, the investment was worth every Knut. Not only would the shop serve as the headquarters for their burgeoning business empire, but it would also, unbeknownst to most, double as a front for the Order. This dual purpose added an extra layer of satisfaction to their achievement, blending their love for laughter and levity with their commitment to the greater cause.

~~~o~~~

In the sprawling expanse of Black Castle, Harry felt the walls closing in on him. Despite understanding the necessity of staying within the castle's protective embrace, the restriction chafed at his sense of freedom. The irony of his situation wasn't lost on him—a wizard with an affinity for fire, yearning for the tranquillity of nature. His plans for the evening, therefore, held a twofold purpose: a chance to escape, if only for a few hours, and to spend a romantic evening with Tracey under the canopy of stars in Faskally Woods.

Tracey, whose spirit thrived on adventure and mischief, was more than eager to join Harry. The prospect of sneaking out of the castle for a clandestine rendezvous appealed to her adventurous side, and the idea of a romantic evening added an enticing layer of excitement to their escapade.

After dinner, under the guise of retiring early, Harry and Tracey slipped away to Harry's room—a move that went unquestioned by the castle's inhabitants, accustomed as they were to the couple's close companionship. Inside, they quickly gathered the supplies Harry had prepared earlier: a cosy blanket, a small basket filled with snacks, and a couple of enchanted lanterns for additional light. With a final look around to ensure they hadn't forgotten anything, they clasped hands and, with a slight twist in their stomachs, apparated away to Faskally Woods.

The woods welcomed them with the serene beauty of twilight. The setting sun cast a golden hue over the trees, its fading light dancing between the leaves. Harry and Tracey set off in search of the perfect spot for their evening, their steps light and eager.

After a brief search, they found an idyllic clearing, sheltered by the trees yet offering a clear view of the sky above. The dusk sky, painted in shades of pink and purple, promised a splendid backdrop for their stargazing. Harry immediately set to work conjuring a small campfire, his affinity for fire allowing him to easily control the flames, coaxing them into a warm, inviting blaze. Tracey, meanwhile, spread the blanket near the fire, creating a cosy space for them to relax and enjoy the evening.

As Harry joined her on the blanket, the flames casting a soft glow on their faces, Tracey teased, "You know, for someone with a fire affinity, you sure are drawn to the calm of the woods."

Harry chuckled, the warmth from the fire combating the evening chill. "Maybe it's the balance of it all. The fire keeps me grounded, but the woods... they remind me of a world beyond the castle, beyond the expectations."

Tracey nodded, understandingly. "I get it. And tonight, it's just us and the stars. No castle walls, no rules. Just freedom and a bit of mischief." Her eyes sparkled with excitement, reflecting the flickering flames.

Harry reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "Exactly. And there's no one else I'd rather share this freedom with." He gestured to the sky, where the first stars were beginning to twinkle. "Look, the stars are coming out. Perfect timing, isn't it?"

Tracey leaned her head on his shoulder, her gaze following his to the heavens above. "Perfect timing indeed." A contented sigh escaped her as she settled closer to Harry, the two of them ensconced in the warmth of the fire and each other's company, ready to lose themselves in the beauty of the night and the simple joy of being together, away from the rest of the world.

As Harry and Tracey settled into their cosy spot beside the campfire, nestled within the embrace of Faskally Woods, their hearts set on a night of stargazing and tranquillity, an unexpected sound pierced the stillness. A stick cracked loudly in the darkness, the noise startlingly close and sharp in the quiet of the forest night. Instantly alert, Harry and Tracey exchanged a look, their previous ease evaporating into the chill of the night air. The serene ambiance of their secluded retreat was now tinged with the tension of the unknown.

Tracey's hand moved to her wand, her eyes scanning the dark periphery beyond the firelight, her senses heightened. "Harry," she whispered, the soft yet tense timbre of her voice cutting through the stillness of the night, "what do you think that was?"

Harry responded in a low voice, his wand at the ready, his gaze fixed intently on the shadowy depths that lay beyond the reach of their campfire's glow. "Probably just an animal or something," he suggested, trying to sound reassuring despite the uncertainty that the darkness held. The flickering flames cast a lively dance of shadows amongst the trees, yet revealed nothing of the dense, dark forest that enveloped their clearing.

Before either could articulate their next thought, shapes began to materialise from the darkness. The figures of four men, appearing almost out of nowhere, their approach silent but for the initial warning that had put the pair on high alert. They were alarmingly close, their features obscured by the shadows, leaving Harry and Tracey with scant moments to react.

Tracey's gaze flitted to Harry, a silent question in her eyes, "Should we disapparate?" The possibility hung between them, a tangible option in the face of the unknown.

Harry, his expression calm despite the adrenaline coursing through him, shook his head slightly. "They might just be Muggles who've lost their way," he reasoned, his voice low, striving to mask the unease that clawed at his own resolve.

Understanding the wisdom in Harry's caution, Tracey nodded, and with a mutual understanding, they subtly slid their wands into their sleeves, concealing them from view. With their wands hidden, they tried to appear as unassuming as possible, not wanting to provoke a situation that might escalate beyond their control.

The group halted just at the edge of their campsite, the light from the fire flickering over their faces, revealing expressions of curiosity rather than malice. The man who stepped forward, a figure imposing in stature, with raven-black hair tied back and piercing silver eyes, regarded Harry and Tracey with a mix of curiosity and authority. "What are you kids doing out here in a forest as dangerous as this one, all on your own?" His voice carried a note of concern, albeit with an underlying command that suggested he was unaccustomed to being questioned or disobeyed.

Harry, trying to keep the situation light, began to explain, "We're just having a romantic evening, enjoying the stars—" but he was cut off.

The man interrupted, a flicker of recognition passing over his features. "Wait, I think I've seen you somewhere before," he said, scrutinising Harry more closely. Realising the need for introductions, he added, "The name's Callan MacTavish." He extended his hand, waiting for Harry to reciprocate.

Harry, sensing that revealing his true identity might complicate matters further, decided on a quick fabrication. "I'm Dudley Dursley," he lied, hoping the unfamiliar name would deflect any further probing.

MacTavish looked at Harry, his expression turning from curiosity to scepticism. The mismatch between Harry's appearance and the name he had given was apparently not lost on him. After a moment, he turned his attention to Tracey, "And you are?"

Tracey, picking up on Harry's cue, also opted for caution. "I'm Jane Summers," she replied, her voice steady despite the tension she felt.

MacTavish observed them both for a moment longer, his gaze lingering as if trying to pierce through the façade they had hastily constructed.

Just as the tension seemed to peak, one of MacTavish's men, a rugged figure lurking a step behind, addressed him with a sense of urgency. "Boss, we need to hurry. The moon is rising, and we need to be closer to our target."

Harry's senses heightened at the mention of the moon. An icy realisation washed over him—they weren't dealing with Muggles. They were werewolves. The stakes of the evening had just escalated dramatically. This was bad.

However, MacTavish quickly silenced his subordinate with a sharp gesture, his authority unquestioned. "I'm well aware of the timing," he said firmly before turning his attention back to Harry and Tracey. The scrutiny in his gaze intensified, as if piecing together the last parts of a puzzle.

After a moment's contemplation, MacTavish reached into his cloak and produced a wand. Recognising the imminent threat, Harry, with a swift movement, slid his wand from the concealment of his sleeve, his instincts sharply attuned to the unfolding situation.

MacTavish chuckled at Harry's reaction, the sound rich and devoid of malice. "I thought as much. Stumbling upon two muggle kids out here would have been incredibly unlikely," he said, the twinkle in his eye betraying amusement at their charade.

Then, fixing Harry with a look that seemed to see right through him, MacTavish asked, "You wouldn't happen to be the boy who lived, Harry Potter, would you?"

Aware of the critical nature of their situation, Harry opted for subtlety in his deception. "Harry Potter? Oh, I get that a lot, must be the glasses or something," he responded with a casual shrug, aiming to downplay any resemblance. "But no, I'm just a regular student, nothing famous about me."

MacTavish's response was a hearty laugh, one that echoed through the clearing, bouncing off the trees. "I must applaud you for trying," he said, once he had regained his composure. Then, turning to his men with a decisive air, he announced, "Forget about the planned target. We've just stumbled upon a much more valuable one."

Understanding the gravity of the situation and knowing full well the odds they were up against, Harry made a quick decision. His glance towards Tracey carried the weight of command, silently conveying his decision to take the offensive. Tracey, though visibly more anxious than Harry, understood the necessity of their situation. She nodded back, her resolve hardening in the face of danger. Harry had always been confident in his abilities, and Tracey trusted him implicitly.

With no time to waste, Harry and Tracey drew their wands in unison, their movements synchronised by countless hours of practice and real-world application. The air around them crackled with magical energy as they launched their initial barrage of spells at the group, aiming to incapacitate them quickly.

The werewolves, taken aback by the sudden assault, were quick to respond. They had their wands out in an instant, fighting back with a savagery that matched their reputation. "Capture Potter alive," MacTavish commanded amidst the chaos, his voice cutting through the din of battle. "The girl can die for all I care. She's worthless."

The brutality of the werewolves' spells was evident, each one hitting with a force that seemed designed to overwhelm. MacTavish, employing a strategic move, cast a powerful Bombarda Maxima between Harry and Tracey, effectively splitting them up and forcing them to contend with their opponents separately.

Amidst the spellfire, Harry noticed something peculiar about MacTavish's involvement in the fight. Despite his initial aggression, MacTavish seemed to be holding back, his eyes scanning the battle with a keen interest that suggested he was looking for something beyond just capturing Harry. It was as if he was analysing their every move, waiting for a moment or action yet to come.

Tracey found herself squared off against one of the werewolves, while Harry grappled with two, the exchange of spells between them rapid and lethal. The intensity of the confrontation tested their limits, pushing them to rely on instinct and the bond they shared to predict and counter their opponents' next moves. Despite the disparity in their numbers, Harry and Tracey fought with a fierce determination, their spells slicing through the night air, a vivid testament to their refusal to go down without a fight.

The werewolves proved to be formidable opponents, their strength and agility surpassing Harry's initial assessments. While Harry managed to hold his own against his assailants, Tracey was visibly struggling, the ferocity of the werewolf pushing her to her limits. Harry's resolve hardened; he couldn't let anything happen to her. Despite the risk of unleashing a power he usually kept restrained, he knew his control over his fire affinity was solid enough to make a difference without causing a catastrophe.

With a focused intensity, Harry summoned fiery tendrils around the two werewolves he was battling. The magical flames caught them off guard, wrapping around their forms with a surprising precision. The werewolves were momentarily restrained, their cries of surprise cutting through the night as they were disarmed. Without hesitation, Harry amplified the intensity of the flames, the tendrils flaring brightly as they set the two werewolves ablaze.

As Harry turned to rush to Tracey's aid, Callan MacTavish stepped into his path, initiating a duel that Harry could not avoid. MacTavish's spells were sharp, his movements fluid and confident. Between exchanges, MacTavish offered what sounded like compliments laced with a chilling undertone. "Not many can claim to have taken out members of the Shadowfang Pack," he said, his voice calm and collected. "Let's see your full potential, Potter."

Harry's heart raced as he realised the twisted nature of MacTavish's interest. This wasn't just a fight for survival; for MacTavish, it was a hunt, and Harry was the prized prey. MacTavish wanted to be entertained, to push Harry to his limits. Attempting to replicate his previous success, Harry summoned another set of fiery tendrils towards MacTavish, but the werewolf leader effortlessly dodged them, his movements a blur in the dim light.

MacTavish taunted Harry further, a cruel smirk on his face. "Running out of tricks, are we? You better hurry. Soon there won't be a girl left to save." His words were a calculated jab, designed to unnerve Harry and throw him off balance.

The realisation that MacTavish was toying with him, along with the imminent danger to Tracey, fuelled a surge of determination within Harry. He understood now that conventional tactics wouldn't suffice against someone like MacTavish. He needed to be smarter, to think on his feet and use the environment to his advantage. Every second counted, and Harry knew he had to end this quickly, not just to save Tracey, but to survive MacTavish's deadly game.

Harry's duel with MacTavish escalated quickly, with spells flying back and forth in a lethal dance. Harry was taken aback by the werewolf's strength and skill. It was clear that MacTavish wasn't just any opponent; he was a formidable wizard in his own right, his prowess only heightened by his werewolf nature. Both Harry and Tracey were pushed to their limits, barely managing to fend off their attackers.

The tension in the clearing reached a breaking point as the night sky shifted, the clouds parting to reveal the full moon in all its glory. The silver light bathed the forest in an eerie glow, casting long shadows and bringing an ominous change to the atmosphere.

MacTavish's laughter filled the air, a sound that sent shivers down Harry's spine. "It's been a pleasure duelling with someone like you, Harry," MacTavish said, his voice laced with a dark mirth. "However, this ends now for you both."

Under the light of the full moon, an eerie transformation unfolded before Harry's eyes, a spectacle both mesmerising and terrifying. MacTavish and the remaining werewolf commenced their metamorphosis, a process fraught with raw, untamed magic and primal force. Their bodies twisted and elongated in grotesque dances of flesh and bone, muscles swelling and fibres stretching to accommodate their new forms. With audible snaps and unsettling pops, their skeletal structures realigned, accommodating the lupine physiques emerging from within. Thick, dark fur, as black as the void of night, erupted across their skin, cloaking them in shadows made tangible.

MacTavish's transformation was a display of nature's dark majesty, marking him as a creature of immense power and ferocity. He transformed into a formidable werewolf, his physique imposing and muscles defined beneath his newly adorned pelt. His fur was pitch black, absorbing the moonlight rather than reflecting it, making him a spectre of the night. What set MacTavish apart was the intelligence that blazed in his eyes; it was not the wild, untamed ferocity commonly seen in the eyes of a beast but a calculating, cold intellect, the mind of a highly dangerous man trapped within the form of a monster.

In a moment of desperation and strategic calculation, Harry acted. Recognising the grave threat MacTavish posed, he aimed his wand and unleashed a "Confringo." The spell, a concentrated burst of destructive energy, tore through the air towards MacTavish with a lethal purpose.

But MacTavish, even in the midst of his transformation, was not caught unawares. With a deep, resonant growl, he countered with a "Protego," erecting a shimmering barrier in the blink of an eye. The blasting curse collided with the magical shield and exploded upon impact, the force of the explosion absorbed and nullified by the werewolf's defensive spell.

Fuelled by a mix of determination and rising alarm, Harry refused to relent. He quickly recalibrated his strategy, aiming his wand once more at the formidable werewolf before him. "Reducto!" he shouted, the word slicing through the tension-laden air. A powerful Reductor Curse burst forth, aiming to shatter MacTavish's defences with brute force.

Yet, to Harry's astonishment, MacTavish demonstrated an unprecedented level of magical control. In the midst of his werewolf form, he conjured another "Protego," the magical barrier emerging with even more strength and clarity. The Reductor Curse slammed into the shield, its potent energy dissipated in a spectacular display of sparks and light, rendered ineffective by the werewolf's adept magical defence.

Harry was taken aback, his eyes widening in disbelief. Never had he encountered or even heard of a werewolf who could wield magic while transformed.

Despite his beastly form, MacTavish retained his human intellect and, more alarmingly, his capacity for magic. Standing upright in a grotesque mimicry of his human posture, he wielded his wand with a precision and grace that defied his monstrous appearance. His control over the wand was fluid and natural, as if the transformation had enhanced his magical abilities rather than hinder them.

With a commanding growl, MacTavish ordered his remaining lackey to eliminate Tracey, while he would capture Harry. The other werewolf charged with a ferocity that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, their eyes glowing with a feral hunger.

Tracey managed to conjure a Protego shield in the nick of time, but the werewolves' claws were too powerful, tearing through the magical barrier and gashing her arm. The sight of Tracey injured ignited a primal fear in Harry's heart.

Realising that their only chance was to flee, Harry conjured a towering wall of fire to hold off MacTavish. He then sprinted to Tracey's side, just as the beast was about to sink its teeth into Tracey, Harry cast a powerful Reductor Curse, the blast knocking the werewolf back and giving them a precious moment to escape.

Without hesitation, Harry grabbed Tracey's injured arm, and with a firm picture of their destination in mind, he disapparated with her. The world spun around them in a blur of colours and sensations until they arrived at their intended destination, far from the dangers of the forest and the werewolves that lurked within. Harry's heart raced as he checked over Tracey, the reality of their narrow escape setting in and the weight of the night's events pressing heavily on his shoulders.

Inside the safety of his room, Harry acted swiftly, his movements driven by adrenaline and concern for Tracey. Gently but with purpose, he lifted her and carefully placed her on his bed. The urgency in his voice was evident as he asked, "Where did you get hurt?"

Tracey's voice was strained but calm as she responded, "I think it's just my arm." She then carefully revealed her injury to Harry, exposing three deep, menacing gashes that ran across her arm. The wounds were a stark reminder of the werewolves' ferocity, still oozing blood.

Harry's heart clenched at the sight before him, but he knew immediate action was needed. "This is going to be a bit uncomfortable," he warned Tracey, his tone soft yet urgent. Without delay, he pointed his wand at the wound and muttered, "Ferula."

Instantly, bandages sprang from the tip of his wand, wrapping themselves neatly around Tracey's injury. The bandages were snug, providing not just physical support but also a slight alleviation of her pain through the magic of the charm. Tracey flinched initially at the touch of the bandages, a soft hiss escaping her lips, but the pain seemed to ebb slightly under the charm's influence.

Harry watched closely as the bandages secured themselves, ensuring the wound was covered completely. The swift and efficient manner in which the charm worked left no room for doubt or further blood loss.

Once satisfied that the wound was properly dressed, Harry met Tracey's gaze, seeing the pain still lingering there but mixed now with relief. "I'm going to find Daphne," he stated with determination, the weight of responsibility evident in his voice. "She's got a broader knowledge of healing spells and potions. She'll know how to help you more."

Tracey managed a small nod, her eyes reflecting gratitude amidst the discomfort. Her hand cautiously explored the edges of the magically applied bandages, a silent acknowledgment of Harry's efforts to stabilise her condition. Despite the lingering pain, her trust in Harry's decision was clear, her eyes conveying a silent thank you as she braced herself for the wait.

Harry hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting to stay by Tracey's side and knowing the urgency of getting help. With a final, reassuring squeeze of Tracey's hand, he stood and quickly exited the room, his mind focused on finding Daphne as swiftly as possible.

Harry, driven by urgency and concern for Tracey, didn't bother with formalities as he burst into Rigel and Daphne's room. The surprise on Rigel and Daphne's faces was evident, their previously focused attention on whatever project had occupied them at their desk now completely diverted to Harry's sudden and dramatic entrance.

"What's going on, Harry?" Rigel asked, his voice tinged with concern, while Daphne's eyes searched Harry's face for clues, sensing the seriousness of the situation.

Out of breath from his sprint through the castle's corridors, Harry quickly explained, "Tracey's been hurt by a werewolf. I've cauterised the wound to stop the bleeding, but she needs more help. Daphne, you have to take a look at it."

Without a moment's hesitation, Rigel and Daphne rose from their seats, their own concerns momentarily set aside in the face of their friend's need. As they followed Harry back to his room, Daphne, with a furrowed brow, inquired, "Was Tracey bitten?"

Harry shook his head as they hurried along. "No, it wasn't a bite, just a strike from a claw."

Rigel, piecing together the gravity of the situation, asked, "How did you end up being attacked by a werewolf?"

Harry recounted the night's events in brief, the memory of their intended romantic evening now overshadowed by the terrifying encounter. "We apparated to a forest, just looking to have a nice time away... and then we ran into a group led by someone named Callan MacTavish."

Rigel stopped in his tracks, his expression turning grim. "Callan MacTavish? You mean THE Callan MacTavish, leader of the Shadowfang pack?"

"Yeah, that one," Harry confirmed, a hint of disbelief in his voice, still processing the reality of their encounter. He looked at Rigel, curiosity piqued. "How do you know about him?"

Rigel resumed walking, his tone serious. "He leads a pack of werewolves known for being the most skilled bounty hunters out there. They wouldn't normally bother with someone unless they're after a high-value target. And given your... well, our situation, it's not hard to guess why they'd be interested in you. You're probably the highest paying bounty in the country right now."

Harry felt a need to defend their actions, despite the gravity of Rigel's words. "They weren't after me initially; it was just a coincidence. They had another target, and when they stumbled upon us, they recognised me and changed their plans..." His voice trailed off, the reality of the situation sinking in.

Rigel, however, was unmoved by Harry's defence. His tone was firm, a reflection of his concern for their safety. "That doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't have left the castle, Harry," Rigel countered sharply. "I didn't teach you how to apparate so you could recklessly put yourself and others in danger."

The weight of Rigel's disappointment hit Harry hard. He knew Rigel was right; his actions had put not only himself but also Tracey in danger. With a heavy heart, he conceded, "You're right, Rigel. I'm sorry. It was a mistake, and it won't happen again."

Rigel met Harry's gaze, his expression softening slightly. "I hope so, Harry. We can't afford to take such risks."

As they entered Harry's room, the atmosphere shifted from one of reprimand to concern for Tracey. Daphne immediately went to Tracey's side, her focus now entirely on assessing and healing her wounds.

After a quick examination, Daphne breathed a sigh of relief. "She wasn't bitten, so there's no risk of lycanthropy," she confirmed, addressing the silent question in the room. Then, with her wand at the ready, Daphne set about healing the cauterised wound. She murmured a series of incantations, her wand movements precise and fluid. Slowly, the scars began to fade, and Tracey's pained expression softened as the magic did its work, erasing the physical reminders of the night's ordeal.

Relief washed over Tracey as she felt the pain of her wounds vanish under Daphne's skilled healing. Rising from the bed with newfound strength, she wrapped Harry in a reassuring embrace. "Harry, this wasn't your fault," she whispered, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves.

Rigel, however, wasn't ready to let the matter rest. "Why didn't you just disapparate when you had the chance?" he interjected, his question cutting through the tender moment.

Harry hesitated, the weight of Rigel's question heavy on him. "I thought... I thought I could take them with my new strength. But MacTavish was... he was a lot stronger than I anticipated," he admitted, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.

Rigel's reaction was swift, his anger not directed at Harry personally but stemming from a protective instinct. "You can't let your strength cloud your judgement, Harry. Especially not against an unknown enemy," he chided, his tone laced with concern. "Our duel should have already shown you that strength isn't everything."

Feeling somewhat downtrodden and without a valid counterargument, Harry could only nod in agreement. "You're right, Rigel. I'll be more careful in the future. I've learned my lesson," he promised, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable.

Rigel sighed, the sharp edges of his anger softening. "I hope so," he said, his gaze lingering on Harry for a moment longer. "I need to get back to work. Madam Bones needs a strong campaign if she's going to win this election." With that, he turned and left the room, his mind already shifting back to the challenges that lay ahead.

Daphne, who had remained silent during the exchange, finally spoke up. "Rigel is only hard on you because he loves you, Harry. You're like a little brother to him, and he'd be devastated if anything happened to you. So don't be too mad at him for talking down to you," she said, her words offering perspective and comfort.

Harry nodded, a sense of understanding settling over him. "I know. And I'm not angry. I've been acting like an idiot," he admitted, the acknowledgment of his missteps easing some of the tension that had built up inside him.

Daphne's smile was gentle, her presence reassuring. "Well, I'm going to join Rigel. You two should get some rest," she suggested, her tone warm. Wishing Harry and Tracey a goodnight, she quietly left the room, leaving them in the soft glow of the lantern light.

~~~o~~~

A few days had passed since the incident in the forest, and Harry found himself grappling with a significant decision. The new law regarding Muggle parents in public magical places was due for a vote, and Harry, torn on his stance, sought Hermione's counsel. Knowing she and Ernie were to depart from the castle again that day, he felt an in-person discussion was necessary.

Approaching Hermione's room, Harry knocked tentatively. "Come in," Hermione called from within. As he opened the door, Harry spotted Hermione and Ernie together. The nature of their activity was ambiguous—were they packing, or was it something more intimate? Feeling as though he might be intruding on a private moment, Harry immediately began to backpedal. "Sorry, it's not important. I can come back later," he stuttered, already retreating.

However, Hermione quickly reassured him. "Harry, it's fine. You can stay and talk about whatever's on your mind," she insisted, her voice gentle but firm. She could always tell when something was troubling him.

With a nervous chuckle, Harry asked, "Am I really that obvious?"

Hermione simply smiled in response and gestured for him to sit at the table with them. Harry, taking the invitation, called for Kreacher to bring them some tea. The house-elf appeared within seconds, serving the tea with his usual efficiency before disappearing again.

As they settled, Hermione couldn't help but comment on the use of house-elves. "I still don't like this whole house-elf thing," she admitted, her expression conflicted. "But the few elves I've talked to, including Kreacher, seem to be happy." She sighed, clearly still wrestling with the complexities of elf servitude, before redirecting the focus back to Harry. "So, what's on your mind?"

Harry, grateful for the open and understanding atmosphere Hermione always managed to create, dove straight into the matter at hand. "Have you heard about the law that's being voted on soon? The one about giving Muggleborn parents access to public magical places, like Diagon Alley, unsupervised?"

Hermione nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Yes, Ernie mentioned it to me," she confirmed, indicating her awareness of the upcoming vote and its significance.

Harry, acknowledging Hermione's response, turned to Ernie. "I almost forgot that your father is a lord too," he remarked, the realisation dawning on him as he remembered the intricate web of political ties that threaded through the wizarding world.

Ernie offered a chuckle, brushing off the oversight. "Don't worry about it. My family are still staunch supporters of Dumbledore, though," he added, a note of loyalty in his voice, "which I've gathered isn't a view shared by many here."

Harry sighed, the mention of Dumbledore stirring a mix of emotions. "I want to trust Dumbledore, I really do, but so far, he's proven to be... very untrustworthy."

Seeking to refocus the conversation, Hermione gently steered it back to the topic of the new law. "What did you want to talk about regarding the law, Harry?"

Harry took a moment before responding, his uncertainty clear. "I'm not sure how to vote," he admitted. "When I first heard about the law, I was all for it. It seemed like a step in the right direction, making the wizarding world more inclusive for Muggleborns and their families. But after talking to Rigel, I've started to second-guess that initial feeling."

Curiosity and concern evident in her gaze, Hermione asked, "What did Rigel have to say about it?"

Harry took a deep breath before diving into the explanation. "Rigel was firmly against the law. He argued that it would threaten the Statute of Secrecy... essentially, the more we normalise Muggles' presence in the magical world, the higher the risk of exposure becomes."

Hermione's brow furrowed in thought, digesting Rigel's perspective. After a moment, she looked back at Harry, her tone inquisitive. "Did you ask Rigel to elaborate further on his concerns?"

At this, Harry's expression turned somewhat sheepish. "Well," he started, hesitantly, "I might have let my temper get the better of me. I ended up calling Rigel a Death Eater and then duelling him on the spot."

Ernie couldn't help but chuckle at Harry's admission, while Hermione sighed, shaking her head in mild disapproval yet understanding the heated nature of such discussions. "When I first heard of the law, I only thought about the benefits for Muggleborns like myself," Hermione admitted, her voice reflecting a newfound depth of consideration. "But hearing Rigel's concern does make me think a bit. I can see where he's coming from."

Harry, intrigued and seeking clarity, prompted her to elaborate. "Can you explain?"

Hermione leaned forward, her hands clasped around her tea cup. "Well, the Statute of Secrecy is a cornerstone of our society, isn't it? It protects us, but it also protects the Muggle world from things they're not ready to understand. If we suddenly start integrating Muggles into magical places without any form of control or discretion, we risk not just accidental exposure but potentially inviting scrutiny and fear from the non-magical community. And while I believe in the benefits and the importance of inclusivity, I also understand the need for caution. It's about finding a balance where we can educate and integrate without compromising the safety and secrecy that have allowed both our worlds to coexist peacefully."

Harry listened intently, Hermione's words providing a fresh perspective on the issue at hand. Her ability to see both sides of the argument and articulate them so clearly was one of the many reasons he valued her opinion so highly.

Ernie, having listened intently to the conversation, offered his thoughts. "I hadn't considered any of that. But you're right; the law would need enforcement. All the Muggle-repelling charms in the world can't differentiate between a normal Muggle and the parent of a Muggleborn. That means Aurors would need to be stationed just to make sure only the right people can enter."

Hermione nodded in agreement, adding another layer to the concern. "Not only that, but some parents might not be as careful with magical objects as Muggleborns are. We're taught a lot about safety and how to handle such things, but not all parents would be as vigilant."

Harry then pointed out a significant issue. "Especially right now, Aurors are spread thin already because of Voldemort."

Acknowledging Harry's point, Hermione added, "That's another factor to consider. So, has this conversation helped clarify your thoughts on how to vote?"

Harry, having absorbed the insights from both Hermione and Ernie, felt more confident in his decision. "It seems like the core idea of the law is good, but it's clear we need more time to address the logistical challenges. And with Voldemort still a threat, we should focus on bringing the country to peace before attempting such significant changes. I'll join Rigel in voting against the law."

Hermione, understanding Harry's conclusion, expressed her support despite the personal benefits she might have enjoyed. "While the additional rights would have been nice for my family, I agree—it's not the right time for this."

Ernie then made an observation. "With you voting against it, Harry, the law probably won't pass anyway."

Curious, Harry asked, "Why's that?"

Ernie explained the current political landscape. "Ever since you and Rigel formed your alliance, the wizarding world's political factions are roughly split into thirds: the light side, the grey side, and the dark side. Though the light side, where my family aligns, has suffered some setbacks recently, like the Bones'."

He paused for a moment, reflecting on the shifting allegiances within the magical community. "It's not surprising that more people are joining the grey faction," Ernie continued, his tone taking on a note of admiration. "I've seen Rigel give a speech once at a Wizengamot meeting that my father dragged me along to—and oh boy, can Rigel talk. He possesses a charisma that can easily sway the masses. There's a persuasive power in the way he presents his arguments, making it clear he's a formidable force in the political arena."

Ernie's insights offered Harry a glimpse into the impact Rigel had on their peers and the broader wizarding community. The ability to articulate a vision and rally support was a crucial aspect of leadership, one that Rigel seemed to wield with ease.

"Any law proposed by either the light or the dark side usually ends up being decided by your alliance with Rigel, since the opposite side will almost certainly vote against it," Ernie added, highlighting the strategic importance of their partnership. "This balance of power means that you two have become the deciding factor in many of the debates and decisions that shape our world."

Harry took a moment to process this information. The realisation that his decision held significant weight in the outcome of the vote was sobering. It underscored the influence he and Rigel wielded within the wizarding community and the responsibility that came with it. The decision to vote against the law was not made lightly, but with a clear understanding of the current priorities and challenges facing their world.

After reaching a conclusion on his stance regarding the law, Harry stood up, the weight of the decision evident in his posture but also a sense of resolution in his eyes. He turned to Hermione and Ernie, offering them a sincere expression of gratitude. "Thank you both for your time, and for helping me see things more clearly. I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing," he said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Ernie couldn't help but let out a chuckle at Harry's words, while Hermione, caught slightly off guard, blushed a shade of pink. The moment was a light-hearted break in the seriousness that had dominated their conversation, a reminder of the enduring friendship and support they shared, regardless of the complexities of the world around them.

With a nod and a final smile, Harry left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. His next step was clear; he needed to discuss his decision with Sirius. As he made his way through the castle, the conversation with Hermione and Ernie replayed in his mind, solidifying his resolve.

~~~o~~~

The last few weeks of summer had flown by in a whirlwind of events and decisions. The proposed law giving Muggleborn parents access to magical places was voted against, a decision that weighed heavily on Harry. However, at his urging, both Sirius and Rigel agreed to revisit the issue once the country found its way back to peace. This concession offered Harry a small sense of solace amidst the storm of political activity.

Then came the elections for Minister of Magic. Rigel and Daphne threw themselves into crafting a formidable campaign for Madam Bones, blending their expertise in strategy and charm to rally support for her. Harry couldn't help but suspect that they also worked to subtly undermine the opposition. Rigel's acumen in the political sphere was unmatched, prompting Harry to ponder, albeit briefly, what might have been had he thrown his hat into the ring. The thought of potentially being the youngest Minister of Magic in history was fleeting but intriguing.

Amidst these political undertakings, Voldemort and his followers escalated their terror, launching attacks across the country and even targeting Muggles. Madam Bones's first act as Minister was decisive: increasing funding for the Auror Department and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to restore stability. Both Harry and Rigel, recognising the critical nature of her initiatives, made generous donations to support the cause.

During this tumultuous period, birthdays for Neville, Harry, and Daphne came and went with little fanfare, a stark contrast to previous years. Neville's stay at the castle for the two weeks surrounding their birthdays provided a brief respite from the chaos, though convincing his grandmother had been no small feat.

In the midst of these happenings, Fred and George had triumphantly opened their joke shop, and the reception was nothing short of spectacular. The wizarding world, it seemed, was more than ready for a bit of laughter amidst the darkness.

Rigel took it upon himself to commission more of the enchanted mirrors, ensuring that every member of the Order of the Black Cat was equipped with one. These new mirrors, however, were not linked to Sirius's, providing a layer of privacy and security for the Order's communications.

Adding to the summer's developments, Astoria and Ginny made their relationship official, openly stating that they would date. The announcement was met with an outpouring of support from everyone in the Order, particularly Fred and George, who couldn't resist making multiple playful and lighthearted jokes about their little sister's new relationship.

Now, the day to return to Hogwarts had arrived. With their belongings packed the night before, the group gathered for breakfast, the air filled with anticipation and a touch of nostalgia for the summer that had passed too quickly.

Over breakfast, the conversation turned to the upcoming school year. "I wonder what new challenges we'll face this year," Tracey mused, her tone a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"I'm looking forward to the advanced classes," Daphne added, her eyes bright with the prospect of delving deeper into her studies. "Though, I could do without the extra homework."

Harry, spooning porridge into his bowl, smiled at his friends' remarks. "I just hope we can find a bit of peace this year," he said, his voice carrying a hope that felt increasingly precious. "And maybe even a bit of normalcy."

Rigel, joining the conversation, raised an eyebrow. "Normalcy, Harry? In our world? You might be asking for too much." His comment was met with light laughter, a moment of levity amidst the uncertainty of the times.

~~~o~~~

The group arrived at Platform 9 ¾, stepping out of the floo point into an atmosphere far removed from the usual buzz of excitement and reunions that typically marked the start of a new term at Hogwarts. The air was thick with tension, a tangible reminder of the ongoing war outside the school's enchanted walls. Aurors were stationed at regular intervals, their eyes sharp and assessing as they surveyed the crowd.

The reality of their country at war hit them fully as they were immediately approached by a team of Aurors for a security check. The procedure was thorough and unyielding; wands were examined, identities confirmed, and bags searched with meticulous care. The fact that Sirius and Remus, both Professors at Hogwarts, were subject to the same stringent checks as everyone else underscored the gravity of the situation. No one was exempt from the heightened security measures, a policy that left little room for the warmth and camaraderie that usually accompanied their return to Hogwarts.

As they underwent the checks, Rigel couldn't help but comment, "Madam Bones is taking this war seriously." His tone carried a mix of approval and concern, recognising the necessity of such measures while also mourning the peace they had lost.

Once the Aurors were satisfied with their examination, the group was cleared to proceed. One of the Aurors, a stern-faced woman with a gaze that seemed to miss nothing, escorted them to the Hogwarts Express. Her presence was a silent testament to the new protocols in place, ensuring the safety of the students and staff amidst the escalating threats.

The walk to the train was sobering, the usual excitement replaced by a shared understanding of the challenges that lay ahead. The sight of the Hogwarts Express, with its gleaming scarlet engine ready to carry them back to the castle, offered a sliver of normalcy, a reminder of the sanctuary that Hogwarts promised in troubled times.

Once they boarded the train, the dynamic of the group began to shift as they prepared to navigate the crowded corridors of the Hogwarts Express. Sirius and Remus, seeking a quiet compartment close to the front of the train where they could keep an eye on things, split off from the younger members of their party with a wave and a promise to meet up later.

Astoria and Ginny, eager to reunite with Luna, excused themselves next, their hands linked as they disappeared into the sea of students, leaving Harry, Tracey, Daphne, and Rigel to decide on their next move.

"Who should we look for?" Tracey asked, scanning the bustling corridor for familiar faces.

Daphne, always the planner of the group, had already thought ahead. "Hermione is sitting with Ernie and his friends this time," she informed them. "So, we'll just meet up with Neville. Let's see if he's claimed a compartment already, and if not, let's find an empty one."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement, and their search began. It didn't take long for them to find Neville, who had indeed claimed a compartment for them, a small island of calm in the midst of the train's chaotic energy.

As they settled into the compartment, Tracey couldn't resist the opportunity to tease Rigel, who had taken up the role of assistant professor. Leaning forward with a mischievous glint in her eye, she somewhat seductively asked, "So, Professor, are you going to punish Daphne if she gets bad grades?"

Rigel's response was a hearty chuckle, an acknowledgment of the jest as he pulled Daphne into a one-armed hug. "I would love to," he played along, his voice laced with humour, "but sadly, she doesn't get bad grades. So, I suppose I'll have to find another reason to punish her."

Tracey's laughter filled the compartment, a light-hearted moment that eased the tension of their return. Daphne, caught in the middle of the joke, pouted playfully at Rigel's response. Rigel, sensing her mock indignation, leaned in to kiss Daphne on the cheek, a tender gesture that caused her to smile, her earlier pout melting away.

Amid the laughter and light-hearted teasing, Neville let out a sigh that caught Harry's attention, prompting him to ask, "What's up, Neville?"

Neville, his mood a stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere of the compartment, explained his predicament. "Well, while I'm really happy for all of you and your relationships, my Gran has been laying into me about finding a 'suitable wife' soon. And honestly, I have no idea where to start."

Rigel, ever the pragmatist, nodded in understanding. "I'm actually surprised she didn't push you sooner," he remarked. "The Longbottom line, much like many others in our world, is nearly extinct. It's an old-fashioned view, but it's still very much a reality for families like yours."

Neville's frustration became more apparent. "But girls don't even like me," he admitted, his confidence waning at the thought.

Tracey, quick to offer support, countered Neville's self-doubt with an encouraging smile. "You need to start seeing things more positively, Neville. If you don't love yourself, it'll be harder for others to love you. Once someone gets past your shy exterior, they'll see what a nice, lovable guy you really are."

Neville offered a small smile in gratitude for Tracey's kind words, but it was clear that the pressure from his grandmother and his own insecurities weighed heavily on him. "Thanks, Tracey," he said, his voice carrying a mix of appreciation and lingering concern. "It's just...a lot to think about."

The conversation about Neville's predicament was abruptly interrupted as their compartment door was slammed open, revealing Draco Malfoy flanked by his ever-present cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. The sudden intrusion jolted everyone back to the harsh reality of their divided school.

"What do you want, Draco?" Harry asked, his tone firm yet wary, already anticipating the kind of confrontation Draco was known to instigate.

Draco, with his characteristic sneer, barely acknowledged the question. Instead, he launched into a tirade. "Feeling quite proud of yourselves, aren't you? With your little alliance. You've denied my father the post of Minister," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rigel, unfazed by Draco's animosity, addressed him with a calmness designed to irritate. "Cousin," he began, emphasising the familial tie that Draco so often disregarded, "Madam Bones won fair and square. Her campaign was simply better. It's nothing personal—just politics."

Draco's response was another sneer, his face twisting in contempt. "Watch your backs," he warned, his eyes glinting maliciously. "Your days are numbered." Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel, exiting the compartment with as much drama as he had entered, slamming the door shut behind him.

The brief silence that followed was thick with tension. Daphne broke it, her voice tinged with concern. "Do you think he'll make good on his threat?"

Harry considered the question seriously, well aware of Draco's capacity for rash actions fuelled by pride and anger. "It's possible," he conceded cautiously. "He might be reckless enough to attempt something. We'll need to be vigilant and prepare as best as we can."

The group exchanged determined looks, each of them silently reaffirming their commitment to stand together against whatever Draco—or anyone else—might throw their way.

~~~o~~~

Entering the Great Hall for the welcoming feast marked a moment of transition for Rigel and Daphne. For the first time in what felt like ages, they had to part ways: Daphne to the Slytherin table and Rigel to the teachers' table. They shared a tender kiss, a silent promise of togetherness despite the physical distance that the Great Hall imposed between them. Though it might have seemed a small thing to others, for Rigel and Daphne, accustomed to being each other's constant companions, even the breadth of the hall was a significant distance.

As the feast progressed, they watched the Sorting Hat ceremony with interest, noting the distribution of students among the houses. This year, a couple more Muggleborns were sorted into Slytherin, a fact that caught the attention of many, signalling a subtle shift in the house's traditional composition and perhaps, its values.

As the chatter within the Great Hall slowly subsided, Dumbledore stood, the twinkling lights of the enchanted ceiling reflecting softly in his spectacles. With a serene yet authoritative presence, he addressed the students and staff.

"Good evening to you all," Dumbledore began, his voice resonating with warmth and wisdom throughout the hall. "As we embark on another year at Hogwarts, it is imperative that we acknowledge the world outside these walls. It is a world currently marked by uncertainty and, alas, by conflict."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "In response to these external threats, I wish to assure you that the safety of every student under this roof is our paramount concern. To this end, the school's wards have been significantly strengthened. Furthermore, Aurors will be patrolling the entrances of Hogwarts, a measure to ensure that the peace within these walls remains undisturbed."

A murmur of approval rippled through the students, a mix of appreciation and curiosity at the measures being taken.

"Additionally," Dumbledore went on, "we find ourselves in times that require not just academic excellence but also practical readiness. Therefore, we shall introduce additional classes in Defence Against the Dark Arts, as well as in Dueling. It is our hope, and our belief, that these classes will provide you with the knowledge and skills necessary to protect yourselves and others, should the need arise."

The hall was attentive, hanging on to every word, understanding the gravity of the Headmaster's message.

"And now, for a particularly joyous announcement," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling more brightly as he prepared to shift the tone of his speech. "This year, we welcome a new member to our teaching staff. I am delighted to introduce Mr. Rigel Black, last year's Head Boy, as our new Assistant Professor in Dueling."

The mention of Rigel's name sparked whispers of excitement and surprise among the students.

"Rigel has demonstrated a remarkable aptitude for duelling, showing skill beyond his years. He will be working alongside his father, Professor Sirius Black, to impart his knowledge and expertise to you all. I have every confidence that under their guidance, you will learn much about the noble art of duelling."

The applause that followed Dumbledore's announcement was loud and heartfelt, echoing through the Great Hall. Rigel, standing up from the teachers' table to acknowledge the applause, scanned the room, his eyes briefly meeting Daphne's. In that moment, the pride and support in her gaze were clear, a silent affirmation of their shared journey and the challenges they would face together, both in and out of the classroom.

The beginning of the school year was always a time of renewal and resolve, but this year, it carried an added weight. The challenges ahead were daunting, yet in the faces of the students and teachers, there was determination and a sense of unity.

~~~o~~~

As the evening wound down, Daphne and Rigel were in the midst of their nightly routines within the comfort of their suite when an unexpected knock at the door heralded the arrival of Dumbledore. The Headmaster's presence was always commanding, yet he wore an expression of gentle solemnity as he entered their private space.

"I trust I'm not imposing for too long," Dumbledore began, his voice imbued with a calmness that belied the depth of his visit. "I merely wished to convey that, upon reflection, I may have been unduly harsh in my judgments in the past."

Rigel, ever the guarded one, responded with a coolness that matched the chill of the night air. "Thank you, Headmaster," he said, his tone polite yet distant. "If that will be all, my betrothed and I were just preparing for an early night's rest."

"Of course," Dumbledore acquiesced with a nod, yet there was a finality he wished to impart before his departure. "I should mention, Mr. Black, that all the privileges afforded to you last year remain intact. However, I would hope that any absences from school for 'house business' are employed towards endeavours less... unlawful, less inclined towards vigilantism." With those parting words, Dumbledore wished them a good night, stepping out into the corridor without waiting for a rebuttal.

After the Headmaster exited, leaving the door to click shut behind him, Daphne and Rigel shared a look, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Without a word, they both set about the room, their wands outstretched, murmuring detection spells under their breaths. The tension in the air was palpable, both keenly aware of the importance of uncovering any lingering magical surveillance that could compromise their plans.

Rigel moved with a practiced ease, his wand movements sharp and deliberate as he scanned the elegant draperies and the luxurious furnishings of their suite. Daphne, with equal precision, navigated the space, her eyes narrow, focusing intently on the task at hand. The atmosphere was thick with concentration until, finally, Daphne's wand gave a slight quiver, a subtle but unmistakable sign. She paused, narrowing her focus on a seemingly innocuous corner of the room.

"There," she whispered, a hint of triumph mixed with dismay colouring her voice. With a few carefully chosen words and a precise flick of her wand, she revealed the presence of a listening charm, cleverly hidden and undeniably powerful. The charm, a tiny, pulsating orb of light, flickered resentfully under her scrutiny before she cast a spell to dispel it, watching as it dissolved into nothingness. "Dumbledore," she muttered with a frown, acknowledging the proficiency and subtlety of the enchantment.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Daphne turned to Rigel, her expression shifting to one of reflective concern. "He's really laying it on thick, isn't he?" she finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them during their search. Her voice, though still laced with incredulity, carried a newfound weight of caution. "Making it quite clear he knows we're up to something."

Rigel nodded, a shadow of concern passing over his features. "Yes, and it's only a matter of time before he starts to meddle directly," he agreed, the weight of Dumbledore's implicit warnings not lost on him.

"What should we do?" Daphne asked, the gravity of the situation settling in.

Rigel, his mind racing with strategies and contingencies, finally spoke. "We'll need to shift our priorities," he declared with a determination that was both unsettling and resolute. "We have to deal with Dumbledore first."