"Malfoy Manor," muttered Harry. "And this is . . . "
Harry looked around again and saw that the landscape around him was similar to the country lane where he and his two friends had once been dragged by Fenrir Greyback and his band of Snatchers.
"That's right, Harry. Draco Malfoy kindly lent us his house," Hermione said with a smile. "But he's put Fidelius Charms all over the manor, so you won't be able to see it yet. . . . Now think about what you've just read."
Harry did as Hermione instructed while she lit the parchment scroll she had been given back to burn. Suddenly, before his eyes, wild sagebrush and trees were pushed aside to the left and right, revealing a long single driveway to their right. At the same time, neatly trimmed hedges rose from the ground to the left and right of the drive, blocking his view. Harry watched in awe as the sprawling grounds and grand mansion, surrounded by hedges, appeared out of nowhere. He was now so used to the Muggle world that his jaw dropped at the magnificent sight of magic.
"Follow me," said Hermione, taking the lead. The three of them turned into a straight driveway, much wider than the country road they had been standing on, and walked along the hedge. A manor the size of a royal palace loomed over them right beyond the imposing wrought-iron gates at the far end of the drive. The last time Harry had come here, he had been brought as a prisoner to be offered up to Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but even now, as an invited guest, Malfoy Manor did not feel even remotely welcoming.
"So, you've put a Fidelius Charm on the manor," Harry said, not taking his eyes off the house. "Then who's the Secret-Keeper?
Hermione, who had been leading the way, slowed her pace for a moment and locked eyes with Ron, who was walking beside Harry.
"Well, at first it was just me and Malfoy, the landlord of this place," said Hermione a bit sharply. "But then Won-Won here said what if Malfoy kidnapped me and sold us all out — "
"So I became an additional Secret-Keeper too," interrupted Ron, glaring at Hermione. "Without Malfoy knowing, of course. Gotta have some insurance."
"Oh, Ron — what on earth would Malfoy have to do with Eisenbein?" sighed Hermione.
"The Dawn Breakers are mostly made up of Muggles or Squibs, and they'd probably hate a former Death Eater like Malfoy the most."
"And did you ever think we'd ally ourselves with that particular Death Eater?" said Ron stiffly. "That's what his family does . . . they never hesitate to switch sides when it's to their advantage."
"By the way, Harry, don't you find it ironic?" said Hermione. "This manor used to be the headquarters of the Death Eaters, where we were almost killed. And now we're using it as our own headquarters for the D.A. — I still can't believe it."
"It's just another proof that Malfoy changes sides a lot," snapped Ron, but Hermione pretended not to hear him and sped up. "Here, Harry — I'll give you a new one since you probably don't have one right now."
When they were almost at the iron gates, Hermione pulled a shiny Galleon out of her pocket and handed it to him.
"Er, thanks." Harry took the gold coin without knowing why he needed it. "But what's this for? Is Malfoy opening a souvenir shop in his manor or something?"
"You really don't remember a thing, Harry!" Hermione shook her head. "Have you lost all your memories? Every member of the D.A. used to have one of these."
Only then did Harry take a closer look at the gold coin in his hand. Sure enough, the serial number engraved along the edge of the coin showed the current year, today's date, and the time: three o'clock in the afternoon, not long from now.
"Look closely, Harry. When we go through here, all you need to do is hold onto this coin." Ron took the gold coin in his right hand and held it up to the iron gate, and his arm slipped effortlessly through as if the solid iron gate was nothing more than an illusion, and soon Hermione and Harry followed suit.
"Amazing, isn't it? Malfoy has cast the protective charm," said Hermione. "It's actually a spell first used by the Death Eaters to restrict passage to those who meet certain conditions. Only those with the Dark Mark on their arms could pass through here long ago, but it's been recently modified so that anyone with these coins can go through."
"Anyway, I think it's a good idea to set up a souvenir shop there, mate," Ron whispered, winking at Harry. "Malfoy would make the perfect clerk."
Harry couldn't help but smile. At moments like this, it was like they were back in the happy and carefree days of their youth. Of course, between then and now lay the deep abyss made by the Fourth Curse. . . . Suddenly, Harry's smile disappeared as he was reminded of the fact that he had become a Muggle, a secret between the three of them; it felt as though his insides had turned to ice.
"Look, a peacock!" exclaimed Hermione in awe, pointing to the high hedge beside them. Sure enough, there it was, an albino peacock, who flapped its wide feathers at them. Unlike any other peacock, the fan-shaped feathers were snow-white with no markings, but they were as pure and beautiful as fresh snow on a green hedge. There wasn't just one; as they walked a few more steps, they saw several more peacocks strutting along the ground or on the hedges.
"I can't think of a color that doesn't go with the Malfoys like white," Ron muttered so that only Harry could hear. Every time Hermione pointed to something on the other side of the fence, like a fountain that spewed refreshing water or well-maintained flower beds adorned with various flowers, Ron grunted discontentedly. A magnificent mansion at the end of the pebble-strewn path gradually filled Harry's vision. In truth, the manor seemed like a waste of space for just Draco Malfoy and his son Scorpius to live in. It was easy to understand why Voldemort and his Death Eaters had made this their base long ago.
Through the diamond-paned windows at the front of the mansion, a pale face briefly appeared before the front door slid open inwardly with a smooth swish. Draco Malfoy stepped over the threshold and walked toward them. He was dressed in black dress robes of luxurious velvet with a high collar that, combined with his expressionless, solemn face, made him look like a vicar. He had the same slender build as when he was younger, with pale skin and white-bond hair, but now that he had grown older, his bangs had receded quite a bit, making his forehead look somewhat wider.
"Granger, Weasley." Malfoy looked at Ron and Hermione in turn and nodded. Hermione gave him an awkward smile, but Ron remained silent, his head down, his feet crunching the gravel beneath them. Finally, Malfoy turned to look at Harry. "And, Potter."
Harry didn't answer out loud, instead nodding his head curtly like he did. Harry and Malfoy had joined hands to save their respective sons two years ago, but now it seemed as distant as the events of their previous lives. Harry looked into the cold gray eyes of his former nemesis and wasn't sure how to feel about him, especially considering that during their last meeting Malfoy had lost his temper and strangled Harry in a fit of rage over a misunderstanding that he had harmed his son Scorpius.
"Welcome to my house," said Malfoy sullenly in his characteristic drawling voice. "Your other friends are already here — let me show the way. . . ."
The sun was still high in the sky, but the dreary, dark hallway was already lit by the dull glow of candles. A thick carpet covered the stone floor muffled the sound of their footsteps. Harry thought he had passed one of the portraits on the wall that belonged to Lucius Malfoy, but he couldn't be sure because the subject of the painting had quickly ducked out of sight. However, when they were far enough away, he could clearly hear someone behind him muttering, "Mudblood!"
Ron must have heard it too, because he grunted and reached for his wand, but Hermione quickly grabbed his arm and held him. When they reached the end of the corridor, a sturdy wooden door, which could have served as a vault door if it had been made of iron, blocked their way. Malfoy, leading the way, straightened his robes and grasped the bronze handle, turning it slowly. In the brightly lit interior flooded with sunlight from the windows, the people who had been chattering loudly all quieted down when Malfoy entered first. However, when Ron, Hermione, and Harry followed behind, the drawing room erupted with cheers and whistles. Those seated at the long and ornate table in the center of the room rose to their feet and swarmed around Harry.
"You've really come, Harry!" exclaimed Neville, rushing over to him, almost tripping over the various pieces of furniture that had been pushed up against the wall.
"What did I tell you? The game's up!" exclaimed Dean Thomas, his face split into a wide smile. Neville and Dean each grabbed Harry's arms from either side and lifted them up, and thunderous applause filled the room. Harry forced a smile and looked around at the familiar faces around him.
First there was Luna, who was staring off into empty space, and her husband Rolf Scamander. There were Seamus Finnigan, Lee Jordan and Hannah Longbottom standing beside her; his old Quidditch teammates like Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina and George Weasley standing on one side; Parvati and Padma Patil twins, Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley sitting off on the other side; three Ravenclaws Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot seated together; a little further away was Harry's old girlfriend, Cho Chang, who was already in her forties but still had outstanding beauty, and Marietta Edgecombe, who had tipped off Umbridge to shut down the D.A. itself. . . . With the exception of Zacharias Smith, the entirety of surviving Dumbledore's Army was there.
Then there was an intense flash that blinded Harry.
"Dean, Neville — keep holding him! I'll take another one!"
Another flash followed by a small explosion. If it wasn't for the hands of his friends on either side of him, Harry would have fallen. When his vision finally returned to normal after going all white, he saw a mousy-haired man holding a large camera, looking at him with an impressed expression on his face.
"Harry, I knew you'd come," said Dennis Creevey tearfully. "My brother up there would surely be pleased."
Harry's heart sank at the words. Dennis's older brother, Colin Creavey, had been killed during the Battle of Hogwarts, sneaking back to school despite being underage, and the memory of seeing his tiny body drained of life was one of the long-standing nightmares that still haunted Harry. He looked back at the D.A. members one by one, their eyes shining. They would all be there, just as Colin had been, believing in him, expecting him to do something remarkable. However, how long would it take for their heightened expectations to turn into equally profound disappointment and despair, and how many of them would be alive when that happened? Now was his last chance. He had to tell the truth, just like he had done with Ron and Hermione, and get out of here.
Just then, Dennis gestured and the crowd around Harry parted to the left and right, revealing a figure at the table that had been hidden from him. Harry gasped as he recognized his wife, Ginny. She was as beautiful as he'd always remembered, but beneath her flaming red hair, her face was lined with fatigue and grief, and the skin under her eyes was haggard.
The Potters stared at each other wordlessly for quite some time, until Dennis stepped between them. "I'm Ginny's exclusive photographer now!" chortled Dennis happily. "We're still working for the Prophet — oh, the newspaper is still in the Ministry of Magic building, and it's kind of weird now that we're the only ones in that huge facility — "
"Excuse me, Dennis," Hermione interrupted. "I know it's been a long time since we've all been together, so of course we have a lot to talk about, but I have a lot on my plate today. . . . Would you all please take your seats?"
The excited members of the D.A. all smiled or grinned at Harry and sat around the long table. He had frozen at the sight of Ginny, which seemed to take away his last chance to explain himself out of this. Thanks to freezing up at the sight of Ginny, it seemed like his last chance to declare that he was out of all this was lost. Harry tried to avoid Ginny's persistent gaze with a bewildered feeling as he attempted to sit next to Ron and Hermione, but the seats on either side of them had already been taken by Dean and Seamus.
"That seat over there is usually reserved for the leader," said Malfoy, who was sitting opposite them. He gestured to the head of the table, behind which was a dwindling fire in the fireplace. "At least Voldemort used to sit there."
At the mention of Voldemort's name, the drawing room suddenly fell silent. It was as though the people in the room had realized that they were not here for a joyful reunion, but to fight in a war.
In an almost as awkward gait as walking with a prosthetic leg, Harry arrived at the head table and plopped down. His face heated up as all eyes turned to him. The cupboard under the stairs at number four, Privet Drive suddenly felt like the most comfortable refuge in the world. Thankfully, Hermione cleared her throat loudly and attracted everyone's attention.
"Right, then. . . . I think I've been the secretary since we started this activity, so unless there are any volunteers, I'll keep doing it." Hermione looked around the room for confirmation, and when no one raised their hand, she continued, "Well, we've got to decide on the more important things, haven't we? After all, Dumbledore's Army was started as a study group — "
"Yep, thanks to our dear Madam Hem, hem," said George, and the others in the room giggled. Harry forced a smile, then noticed that Malfoy sitting a few seats away didn't seem to be in the mood to laugh either, which made him feel a little less alone. It wasn't surprising, since Draco Malfoy had been a loyal follower of Umbridge when they were fifth years, being a member of her Inquisitorial Squad.
"True, but now we have to face enemies far beyond Umbridge," said Hermione seriously, and the drawing room fell silent again. "To do that, we must first choose a leader. . . "
"What's the need?" cried Seamus loudly. "'Course Harry is our leader!"
The words were met with a murmur of agreement from almost everyone. Harry felt Ginny staring at him and quickly looked away. He was becoming more and more sorry that he had come here.
"I think we need to make it more official though, through a vote," said Hermione. "Of course, Harry was the initial leader, but as far as I know, in the year the war ended, Neville took over and led the D.A. brilliantly. . . "
"I also think Neville would make a better leader," Harry quickly added. Neville, whose round face was getting redder and redder, suddenly looked like a savior to him. "I'll give Neville my vote."
"Don't forget Ginny — she has my vote," Cho Chang said this time. "After all, she helped Neville steal the sword of Gryffindor."
"I'm voting for myself," Luna said as she raised her hand. Her eyes were not fixed on anyone in particular. "I'm sure you've all forgotten, but I was with Neville and Ginny when we stole that sword."
"I haven't forgotten," said Cho, blushing.
"Well, I guess we have our candidates then," said Hermione, trying to break the awkward atmosphere. She flicked her wand and a small ballot box with a circular hole in the top appeared on the table, along with dozens of small pieces of parchment. "Now let's each cast our vote for the person we want."
After about ten minutes, the ballot box began to float slowly around the desk. As it passed in front of each person, they folded their parchment with the chosen name and put it inside. Finally, when the ballot box made a full circle back to Hermione, she waved her wand, and suddenly a blue flame burst out of its hole.
"Are you mental?" said Ron loudly. "Why did we even bother to vote if you were going to burn them?"
"Hold on still, Ron." Hermione focused on the ballot box and waved her wand, and the blue flames suddenly turned red. "I just used a bit of the magic from the Goblet of Fire . . . there, almost done."
As soon as she finished, the flames rose high enough to touch the ceiling, and a piece of parchment flew out and fluttered down onto the desk like a butterfly. Hermione lifted the still hot parchment with the tip of her wand and read the contents.
"As everyone expected, our leader with the most votes is — " she looked at Harry and smiled broadly. "Harry Potter."
Applause erupted and George, Dean and Neville climbed onto their chairs and whistled. Harry felt like someone was squeezing his stomach with an invisible hand, but he smiled and nodded slightly to return their enthusiastic cheers. If he were still a wizard, he would have fought as bravely as anyone, as he had once done. . . . The invisible hand squeezing his stomach grew stronger as he thought of this; the tension and anxiety he felt now was even greater than the moment in his fourth year when the Goblet of Fire unexpectedly spat out the parchment with his name on it, which had seemed like a nightmare at the time. Harry's gaze wandered aimlessly away from Ginny only to meet Malfoy's cold, gray eyes. Malfoy looked straight at him, his expressionless face assessing him as if he could read Harry's mind. What if Malfoy discovered his deepest secret? Would Malfoy reveal it to humiliate his old enemy who had brought him so many defeats? Harry quickly looked away, regretting for the umpteenth time in his life that he hadn't learned Occlumency properly as a student. Finally, when everyone had calmed down and the clapping had stopped, Hermione spoke again.
"Now that the most important matter has been decided, I will begin the formal ceremony."
She pointed her wand at the window and the velvet curtains moved to cover the diamond-paned windows. The room was completely dark now, and shortly after, the candles in the large crystal chandelier above their heads lit on their own, casting an eerie glow over the room. Hermione pulled a worn bundle of parchment from her robes and placed it in front of her.
"I'm sure most of you remember this list — it has the names of the original members of the D.A. when we started it."
Harry suddenly remembered Marietta Edgecombe betraying them to Umbridge and glanced at her briefly. The word "SNEAK" had faded so much over the years that the original marks on her face were almost unreadable, but there were still several scars on both her cheeks, deep enough to be seen in dim candlelight. Marietta absentmindedly touched her scars with her fingers, then quickly lowered her hand as some sharp glares fell on her. To comfort her friend, Cho gently squeezed her hand around her trembling shoulder.
"Well, I'll pass this list around and you can all check it and sign it again if you need to," said Hermione.
In a stifling, solemn atmosphere reminiscent of a secret society, the process of checking the list entitled DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY and passing it on to the next person continued. Harry took the list, checked only his own name at the top and handed it to Ernie Macmillan sitting next to him. He found it unbearable to look at the names of people who were now dead and would never be with him again.
Apart from the occasional sound of scratching as some of them added their names to the paper, the room was completely silent. Malfoy hesitated for a moment, then signed the parchment and leaned back in his chair. By the time the list finally made its way around the desk and back to Hermione, almost half an hour had passed. Hermione cleared her throat, picked up the list in both hands and began to speak.
"All right, everyone, thanks for your cooperation. First, I'd like to announce our newest additions. Mr. Rolf Scamander and Draco Malfoy have added their names to the list."
A short, polite round of applause echoed through the common room. But Ron, George and a few other members with less than favorable feelings toward Malfoy simply pretended to clap and cast a cold look at the first Slytherin in their group.
"As for our existing members, Marietta Edgecombe, who was expelled for revealing secrets to Umbridge, has been reinstated with an updated signature above her crossed-out name, and I hope no one makes the same mistake again."
Cho clapped enthusiastically as Marietta kept her head down, but the rest of the group exchanged skeptical looks and gave the half-hearted applause they'd given Malfoy. In truth, Harry wasn't quite sure why Marietta, who had been half-coerced into joining the D.A. by her friend Cho in the first place, was back here after getting into so much trouble.
"And I'll let any new trusted people who want to join add their names. Teddy Lupin, former Auror and Harry's godson, has expressed an interest in joining, as has Mr. Faraday Prewitt, former Head of the Department of Treasury." Hermione looked up from the list as she said this. "So now Dumbledore's Army is officially re-formed, but before we begin anything, I want to mention those who, although their names are on this list, could not be with us," said Hermione in a slightly hoarse voice, then resumed reading the parchment. "Fred Weasley, Lavender Brown and Colin Creevey. . . These three fought and died bravely in the last war, and Susan Bones, Head of the Auror office, was recently killed in action during the Gringotts Heist not long ago."
At the mention of the names of the deceased, the atmosphere in the room sank to a palpable heaviness. George stared blankly at the chandelier as if his soul had escaped him, the candles dancing helplessly in his hollow eyes. Parvati bowed her head deeply at the sound of Lavender's name and wiped her eyes with the hem of her cloak, while Ron was deep in thought. Dennis Creevey sobbed a few times and pulled out a handkerchief to blow his nose at the sound of his brother's name, but perhaps no one in the room was as heavyhearted as Harry. At the mention of Susan Bones' name, Harry felt an invisible, cold hand tighten around his throat. Her death was entirely his fault. . . . Unlike anyone else in the room, he knew how powerless he was compared to what he had once been, and all of his friends in the room seemed like people who were about to die like the fallen four.
Say it now, a dark voice whispered in his mind. You can still make things right. Tell the truth now and prevent Susan's tragedy from repeating! But as if glued shut, his lips refused to utter a sound.
"I hope we can all take a moment to mourn those who have given their lives for a better world," said Hermione gravely. "Let us fight until the end, so that we may never be ashamed."
At her words, everyone closed their eyes and bowed their heads. Even Malfoy joined the remembrance. Harry, with a heavy heart, lifted his eyelids slightly and scanned the faces in the room. How many of them would die next? If they did, it would be entirely his responsibility . . . just like the deaths of Susan and the Aurors.
Once everyone had finished their moment of silence and some had wiped away their tears, Hermione pulled back the curtains that covered the window. The sunlight streaming into the room brightened the gloomy atmosphere a bit. It wasn't long before the group began to talk, starting with Lee Jordan telling them what a horrible person Umbridge had been. Harry mostly kept his mouth shut and listened. It had only lasted less than a year, but they all had quite a few memories of their D.A. lessons.
". . . that's when I swung my wand again and Hermione's went flying off!" said Neville excitedly from across the table, "It was the first time I disarmed someone."
"Looks to me like it was more Hermione giving you a break, Neville," said Seamus playfully. "Am I right?"
"No! Neville did it fair and square," Hermione interjected from the other side of the table, but to Harry, she didn't seem entirely convinced herself.
"I think you're better with a sword than with a wand, Neville," George said, pretending to brandish a sword. "You were pretty cool that day, honestly. You cut off the head of that big, nasty snake, Nagini, in one fell swoop."
"It wasn't anything great." Neville blushed and waved his hands. "And the snake I killed was nothing compared to the basilisk Harry took care of."
Hearing this, Harry absentmindedly turned to Ginny and their eyes met. Looking into her sad eyes, time seemed to freeze. Despite being young and weak, in his second year at Hogwarts, Harry at least had had the courage to descend down into the deep underground to save Ginny and face Slytherin's monster. . . . But now? Did he have the courage or the ability to do that now that he wasn't a wizard?
"Harry!" said Neville abruptly. "So what's our plan, what are we gonna do?"
Now the eyes of everyone in the room, not just Ginny's, turned straight to Harry.
"Er, well, I was about to — " Harry glanced resentfully at Hermione. Thankfully, she cleared her throat again, drawing attention back to her.
"Listen, everyone. It's been a long time since the D.A. was formed, but our organization was initially founded as a study group, so we have to operate differently now that we have to work as a militia."
"A militia?" asked Dean, stunned. Hermione glanced over at Ron, hoping he would explain, and sighed when she saw the same blank face.
"Well, we all know that the Ministry of Magic has been dissolved," said Hermione calmly. "Someone still has to do the things the Ministry used to do, like clean up accidents and erase memories when Muggles discovered our world, but since the budget to hire staff has been completely drained, laid-off employees and retirees have formed volunteer organizations to do those kinds of jobs."
"You mean the D.A. is now a kind of volunteer organization, isn't it?" asked Cho. "Taking over what the Auror office used to do before?"
"Well, sort of," said Hermione. "So we're volunteers to protect the Wizarding world, fighting the Dawn Breakers on behalf of the Aurors."
As Hermione finished her explanation, people's uneasy gazes turned back to Harry. It was all happening again. . . . The young Aurors, fresh out of school, had trusted Harry's reputation to lead them deep into the depths of Gringotts, only to lose their lives. As if that wasn't enough, now his old friends were trying to rely on him again.
"Er — so from now on," Harry forced his throat to speak, "we're going to — "
"We're going learn about our enemies," a deep voice said as the door swung open. Into the drawing room strode Kingsley Shacklebolt, followed by Aberforth Dumbledore with his scruffy gray beard and long hair.
"Wow, you're just in time," said Hermione happily, getting up from her seat. "Actually, I thought we could use some advice from seniors in this field, so I brought in two former members of the Order of the Phoenix."
Everyone in the room, except Malfoy, jumped to their feet and cheered enthusiastically. Harry clapped too, feeling a deep sense of relief for the first time all day, and he was grateful to Hermione for preparing all of this in advance. With two battle-hardened warlocks who had been fighting Dark wizards since before he was born, Harry would have less to worry about. In contrast to Harry's relief, Malfoy avoided eye contact with them and his expression darkened, perhaps because of his father's and his own dark past. Hermione flicked her wand and a podium appeared behind the head of the table where Harry sat.
Kingsley stood behind the podium with Aberforth and began, "So you are planning to re-form Dumbledore's Army? A name I haven't heard in a long time. . . ."
Even Harry, hearing his reassuring deep, slow voice, suddenly felt like everything was going to be okay.
"To tell you the truth, I already have," said Hermione, looking proud. "And Harry has agreed to be its leader, just as he was when we first formed it."
Harry felt like crawling into a rat hole as the expectant eyes turned back to him.
"Ah, well, then I guess I don't have much to worry about," Kingsley said, winking at Harry. "Still, it might help if I told you how we, the Order of the Phoenix, fared during the last two wars against Voldemort. . . . Intelligence was what Albus Dumbledore and Mad-Eye Moody always emphasized."
"He's right," grunted Aberforth. "My brother used to come to my bar every chance he got, and he would ask me who came and went. I informed him whenever I found Death Eaters in Hogsmeade."
"It was Dumbledore's belief that to defeat your enemy, you must first know your enemy," said Kingsley. "So the best advice I can give you is to never stop searching and scouting."
At that, Harry was suddenly reminded of the time when the Order of the Phoenix had taken turns standing guard for an entire year to protect a prophecy kept in the Department of Mysteries, during which time Sturges Podmore, a wizard in the Order, had been imprisoned in Azkaban and Arthur Weasley had been seriously injured by a snakebite. It had all come to nothing in the end, thanks to his own pride and rashness, and his godfather had been killed in the following battle. . . . Harry was overwhelmed by sadness once more.
"That was excellent advice, Kingsley," said Ginny. Harry looked up, startled by the sound of her voice. "As a reporter for the Daily Prophet, I agree with your opinion a hundredfold. That's why I wanted to share our feature story with everyone here in advance."
Ginny gestured to Dennis, and he stood up and began walking around the long table, handing out the articles he'd pulled from his bag to those seated. Harry was relieved not to receive the admiring glances of the people around him and began to read the article.
THE DAWN BREAKERS — Who Are They AND What Do They Want?
After Voldemort's death in the Battle of Hogwarts, the magical world enjoyed many years of peace. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the post-war Minister of Magic, and his successor, Hermione Granger, abolished the legal privileges of purebloods and worked hard to improve the rights of house-elves and other magical beings. The Auror office led by Harry Potter captured the Death Eaters who had fled and imprisoned them in Azkaban, bringing stability and prosperity to the Wizarding community after a long and painful war. All this was shattered by the arrival of a man named Eisenbein.
This powerful Dark wizard, whose exact identity is still unknown, along with the Dawn Breakers who faithfully follow him, robbed the Ministry of Magic of its funds twice, bankrupting it and ultimately forcing its dissolution. In addition, they kidnapped an entire House at Hogwarts in broad daylight and nearly wiped out the Aurors of England in the course of a few battles. Quite naturally, British magical society is now gripped with extreme anxiety, and numerous speculations abound about their next attack and true motives.
The Dawn Breakers are mostly made up of Muggles or Squibs or Muggle-born witches and wizards who are dissatisfied with their world. There are reports that the organization has purged itself of the former Death Eaters and pureblood wizards, who were brought in to lull Slytherin students into false security and abduct them. Even though it has not been made public yet, several reliable sources suggest that Eisenbein and his ardent followers aim to fully integrate the Wizarding world with the Muggle world, and furthermore, to give Muggles the ability to use magic using the blood of kidnapped witches and wizards. This has led to widespread fears of another similar event following the mass abduction of Slytherin students, fueled by the fact that the Ministry of Magic is currently shut down.
Harry finished reading the article and looked up to see the expressions on the faces of the people around the table. With the exception of Luna, who was holding the article upside down and reading it again, almost everyone was either staring blankly into space with serious faces or anxiously whispering to the person next to them.
"Okay, so now we know who we're up against. They're after our blood, aren't they?" Neville broke the silence. "But what are they going to do with it? I've never heard of a method that allows Muggles or Squibs to use magic. . . "
"I'll have to explain," Hermione said as she stood and took the small object Ginny had taken from her purse and held it up for all to see. It was an ornate crystal bottle full of red liquid. "This has been in Harry's house for a long time since it was owned by the Blacks. . . . It was taken as a trophy by an ancestor of the Black family who hunted the infamous Vampire Squib long ago. As you all suspected, what's in here is part blood, but I've also discovered that it's some sort of potion, specially processed to allow Squibs to use magic when administered."
"Squibs? But how is that possible!" exclaimed Dean, and Dumbledore's Army roared in unison.
"We witches and wizards are surprisingly ignorant of Squibs. . . . I was not that different until recently, I'm ashamed to say," said Hermione, raising her voice, and they all listened to her again. "Squibs can't use magic, but they can do things that ordinary Muggles can't, like seeing dementors, which means they have magical powers deep within them, just not on the surface. This potion seems to use the blood of a true wizard to unlock that potential."
"Even if that's true for Squibs, what about Muggles?" asked Cho, her eyes narrowing. "Can they use magic if they take the potion?"
"I suppose that's the ultimate goal of the Dawn Breakers," Hermione said after a long pause. "That's why they're trying to make us all cattle that can be milked for blood."
A heavy silence fell over the room for a moment, and the members of the D.A. looked at each other and exchanged dark looks. It was as if the joy and excitement of reuniting with old friends had been dulled by the thought of the vicious enemies they were about to face.
Ginny stood up, glanced back at the rest of the group except for Harry, and said, "Dennis and I will continue to work in the Daily Prophet, and we'll pass along any information that might be useful."
"Good. If we can have the Prophet on our side, it'll be a big help," said Kingsley. "The press can be more of a nuisance than you can ever imagine. . . ."
"And it would be nice if you worked in pairs, like Ginny and Dennis," said Aberforth grumpily. "Especially when you consider how many Order members have been killed acting alone."
"That's a good point," Hermione said, scribbling something on her parchment. "Then our first activity will be to divide into groups and patrol the places where the Dawn Breakers are likely to be found, such as the Leaky Cauldron, the area around the Ministry of Magic, Hogsmeadeand the Forbidden Forest. Is everyone on board?"
There was a general nod of agreement from those in the room. Kingsley stepped aside, and this time Aberforth took his place at the podium. Although his gray, unkempt hair and beard did not resemble that of the great wizard, his piercing blue eyes behind dusty glasses reminded Harry of his older brother, Albus Dumbledore.
"Well, you don't look like a regular at our inn," grunted Aberforth, and a small chuckle escaped the rest. The presence of the man who was like a mentor to all of Dumbledore's Army seemed to lift the members out of their somber mood and liven them up a bit. "I still don't know why, but I remember very well that you held your first meeting in my bar. . . . It was probably the most packed the pub had ever been." Aberforth's words were met with more laughter. He looked around the room and concluded, "If you happen to stop by, I'll treat you to a free butterbeer. Although I strongly suggest you bring your own glasses. . . ."
"Then I'll organize the patrols and we'll begin surveillance duty from tomorrow," Hermione stood up and said. "I'd like to ask the members to gather again at our next meeting, which will be announced by our coins. And please be sure to thank the senior members of the Order of the Phoenix for taking the time to attend."
A thunderous round of applause fell on Kingsley and Aberforth, who bowed slightly from behind the podium. Neville, Dean, and Seamus quickly got up and went to talk to Aberforth, who replied with a grumpy face. Taking advantage of the confusion caused by people standing up, Harry quickly left the drawing room, passed through the dark corridor, opened the front door, and rushed to the garden to collapse on a bench hidden behind the bushes. The fresh, cool air eased his breathing, which had been stifled by the presence of so many people. As Harry lifted his head to gaze at the dark sky filled with stars, it looked like a bejeweled gray velvet, almost at sunset.
Thanks to Hermione's help and the appearance of Kingsley and Aberforth, today's meeting had gone smoothly. But what about tomorrow? What about the day after that? He couldn't lead the war while hiding his incompetence forever. However, revealing the truth would mean a complete separation from the magical world he had known and loved all his life. . . . In the midst of all this, the stars in the night sky shone unusually bright, as if mocking him. Harry had been sitting there for a while when he suddenly heard a rustle in the bushes beside him. He turned in surprise to see a woman with flaming red hair: his wife, Ginny.
"Harry, I've been looking for you for a while," she said in a faint voice and sat down next to him. Harry felt hot and twisted inside, but he couldn't say anything. The Potters had been silent for some time, and Ginny took Harry's hand in her lap.
"Harry, come back to us," Ginny said in a voice that sounded like she was fighting back tears. Harry didn't take his eyes off the ground, afraid that the sight of her tearful face would weaken him. "Harry, I can't imagine how much it hurt you to lose Hagrid right before your eyes, he was like a father to you, but. . . " Ginny swallowed her sobs and went on. "But Harry, you're someone's father too! Think of James, Albus, and Lily. Think of Teddy! They're all waiting for you to come home!"
Harry couldn't stand it anymore and turned to his wife. When Ginny locked eyes with him, she finally burst into the tears she had been holding back. She buried her face in her husband's chest as she sobbed loudly, and Harry soon felt his robes damp. Harry tried to remember the last time he had seen Ginny cry; yes, it must have been at Fred Weasley's funeral. He hadn't seen a single tear shed by Ginny since their marriage. She had been the pillar of the family even when Harry had struggled with his relationship with Albus. But now she was breaking down in his arms. Harry remembered the small, fragile girl who had just been freed from Tom Riddle's grip in the Chamber of Secrets so long ago — the little girl who had trembled, afraid of the consequences of what she had unwittingly done. . . .
"It's all right," Harry had told that little girl that day, and for a while afterwards, when almost everyone else had been avoiding Ginny, he hadn't hesitated to reach out to her and offer support. Harry pursed his lips to say, "It's all right," just as he had then, but no sound came out. It wasn't all right anymore. He could no longer be Ginny's hero, and the hero of their family. He was dying to be remembered as such, to remain a hero in their memories forever.
"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry finally said. Ginny slowly lifted her tear-stained face to meet his, her sunken eyes, deepening wrinkles, and disheveled hair making her look as if she might collapse at any moment. "I can't go back. I'm staying here until it's all over."
Until literally everything, even my life, is over, Harry repeated this in his mind. It was an irrevocable decision.
"Harry, revenge will get you nowhere," said Ginny weakly. "Come back to your family. . . . Revenge will only make your wounds worse."
The hole in Harry's heart grew wider as he listened to her words. If only he could be consumed by revenge and make those who made Hagrid suffer pay the price. . . But now Harry was in a situation where he couldn't even dream of revenge.
"This isn't about revenge," said Harry bitterly. "I'm doing this for everyone, and I've never been more certain of my actions than I am now."
With that, he rose from the bench. Ginny looked up at him, pale and helpless, but no words escaped her slightly parted lips. It seemed to Harry that he had forgotten how beautiful she was for a very long time. Tell her you're going back, a dark voice whispered in his mind. But Harry turned and walked away, leaving her behind, toward the deeper parts of the garden, toward the darkness that now suited him better than anything else.