Harry glared at the kitchen door without much heat, wishing he could listen in on the Order meeting going on. It was ridiculous! Oh, he was one of the people being accused of being a national terrorist. He was no longer able to show his face in society. He was banned from Hogwarts, legally expelled, and could be executed if he was caught.

But, yup, he's too young to be there as they discuss things very, very pertinent to his life. The Order had outvoted Dumbledore and Sirius on the matter—Dumbledore may be the head of the Order, but it behaves democratically.

Made him almost hate democracy. It was only the knowledge that their very non-democratic nation had allowed Dictator Tom-Fudge which stopped him from hating democracy.

The alternatives were far, far worse.

"This is stupid." Daphne said from next to him, also looking at the door in annoyance. "Sirius already said he'd tell us everything going on later. Barmy, the lot of them are. Spent too much time taking it up th—"

Harry coughed sharply, cheeks brightening a smidge. "They're trying to pretend they have any control." He concluded, trying to switch the subject.

"I can see that." Daphne agreed, venom nearly dripping from her tone. If she got any more livid, venom might actually spill from her mouth. "They lost control of the country without even realising it, so they take it out on us—the only ones they have even a fraction of a control of. Because they most certainly lack control over anything else!"

She wasn't wrong. They had no control, none. The Order's power was near nonexistent, with the only semblance of might they had being over two teens stuck in a house.

How the mighty fall.

Speaking of the mighty falling: Professor Dumbledore. The man had learned of the nation being taken over through the newspaper. The newspaper. Albus Dumbledore, once the most influential man on the planet, was forced to find out about very important events like any other person.

Any blanket of protection he or the Order once had because of Dumbledore was completely removed. It'd been removed at the same time a good chunk of the Order had been removed.

Harry didn't know who in the Order had been disappeared, but some had. That's one of the only things he'd heard before they put up a silencing ward.

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. "It's like things only want to get worse and worse."

"Agreed." Daphne nodded, nose puffing as she snorted. "The universe seems to be out to get you. What'd you do to Lady Luck in your past life, Harry?"

"She's a right bitch, that's what she is." Harry agreed. "Luck needs to get bent and stop getting me bent."

"Well, I doubt you mean that." Daphne playfully said, some of her anger fading. "You'd just want to change the type of bending~"

He lightly smacked her arm. Harry rolled his eyes. "I think your head spends more time in the gutters than doing anything productive. This is the reason the Order won't let us in, you know."

"...probably." Daphne admits. "But you're no better than me, Harry."

Harry didn't deny it, returning to his careful craft of glaring angrily at the door. They were probably talking about how they were, per usual, going to do nothing. Because they certainly weren't doing much when Voldemort just took over the nation.

Suddenly, the door which was the object of his vitriol slammed open, a smarmy-looking git walking out. The oversized bat's greased over hair sat flat on his head, his putrid hook nose being glared past with hate-filled eyes.

Their eyes met, both looking at the other in complete distaste. Harry clenched his hands into fists, wanting nothing more than to punch Snape. Harry still didn't get why Dumbledore trusts the man.

"Mr. Potter." Snape sneered, lip twitching in disgust. "Of course I'd see you here. You couldn't keep your prying snout away, could you? Back to snivelling and begging for scraps of information, you good for nothing child."

"Of course you'd see me." Harry hissed back, eyes narrowing. "I'm here because of you. Had to prevent an assassin from claiming your Lord's glory, huh?" He quoted the words Snape had told Voldemort. "Keeping me holed up with Professor Dumbledore, right? I don't get why the headmaster keeps you around."

Snape paused for a second, growing frigid. They both were quiet, viscous glares trying their damndest to strike down the other. "Someone has to be helpful. Unlike your flee-ridden mutt of a godfather." Snape curled his lips in disgust. "Perhaps that's the person who should not be…kept around."

Harry snarled. "At least the accusations against Sirius aren't true! You're really a death eater. Killed any muggles recently, have you? Assaulted any women?" Harry bit back viciously, green eyes bright as poison. "Or are you busy being a traitor? Actually, no! You can't be a traitor because you have no friends! And if you did, you'd have killed them already for your precious Lord!"

"You—!" Snape growled, hand reaching towards his wand as he glared daggers at Harry. Snape's hand froze and he shook his head, turning around.

The potion's master began walking, shooting one glance back to Harry. A sneer covered the man's face. "You'd better watch yourself, Potter. Wouldn't want to turn out like your father, would you?"

Harry moved to stand up, hand already flying towards his wand. Daphne held his shoulder, forcing him downwards. She shook her head lightly. "S'not worth it." The blonde muttered, shooting her own glare at the head of her house.

Snape walked off, going towards the fireplace. With a flick of his wand, a small, brown something flew into the greasy potioneer's fist. Harry couldn't make out what it was, but clearly it was important enough for Snape to stop and grab.

A second later, green lights flashed and Snape was gone through the floo.

Harry seethed, sending prayers to whatever god might exist to cast down Snape in an incredibly violent and embarrassing manner. Snape was a clear traitor. It was so obvious, and yet Dumbledore still thought Snape was trustworthy.

Well, if Snape was oh so trustworthy, why didn't Snape warn anyone about Voldemort's takeover. That seems like a tidbit of knowledge which would have been rather useful.

Daphne placed her hand on his shoulder and clenched her hand softly. "You need to calm down Harry. You're wasting your energy by getting mad at Snape. Bastard doesn't deserve it."

"You're right." Harry nodded. Snape thrived off of being despised.

If Harry could go back in time at the moment, though, he'd go back and cheer on his dad in that memory he'd seen of Snape. Harry didn't support bullying, but it was Snape.

"Obviously I am right." Daphne snarkily said. "It's me. Anyways, what do you think had Snape so mad? Why'd he flee the room like that?"

"He was told that he could only sacrifice one virgin this full moon instead of the usual ten?" Harry offered.

Daphne shook her head, lips quirking up. "No, no. I think he was told that he has to cut down his blood-sucking. Budget cuts and all of that."

"Ah." Harry nodded in understanding. "They must've pulled out the garlic and silver. Scared the pants off of him."

"Or they opened a shade." Daphne snickered out. "The light was too much for his pristine skin. His porcelain, perfectly pale skin couldn't handle the sun."

"So he became a bat to flee?"

Daphne leaned over, pretending to whisper a secret. "I think that's just what he looks like. Poor bloke."

"You sure he isn't a bat animagus with an engorgement charm on?" Harry spoke, acting as if he were gobsmacked.

"Explain the grease, then." Daphne triumphantly said. "Bat's aren't greasy."

Harry's eyes widened in amazement. "Merlin, you might just be right!"

His expression quickly broke as he devolved into giggles with Daphne. He really hoped Snape tripped and fell on his way out of the floo, stumbling into the flames.

A man can only hope.

Harry would never be that lucky, though. Lady Luck really had it out for him. And Fate. And whatever other anthropomorphized concepts he wished to invoke.

"Actually, though, what do you think they are talking about?" Harry said, forcing his giggles down.

Daphne managed to calm her snickers down as well. "Well, probably nothing helpful. It's not like they were much help when Voldemort took over the Ministry. Maybe they're discussing how best to convince you to do everything?"

Harry snorted. "No, no—obviously not! They also need to figure out how to bicker and complain to each other more. They have a real talent for whining and arguing instead of actually discussing. It's impressive, truly."

"Makes me wonder how they even won the last war." Daphne said in amusement. "Because they don't seem to be holding their own end at the moment."

Harry hummed at her words. It was actually a good question—how exactly had they won? The Order had far too few people to wage any kind of war against the death eaters. Which, if the dreams he had of Voldemort were accurate, the death eaters numbered in the hundreds.

The Order? Dozens.

"I guess my parents' sacrifice really saved the day." Harry melancholically said, exhaling from his nose.

He didn't like taking the credit for what happened on that Halloween night. His parents deserved the credit, not him. After all, it isn't like a baby can do much in the whole killing a dark lord ordeal.

His blonde friend grabbed his hand, giving his palm a gentle squeeze. "It really did. It means I got to meet you, yeah?"

"Of course. My parents dying is truly the best way I've had to procure friends. Thanks Mum and Dad." Harry dryly said.

She rolled her eyes, dropping his hand and flicking him in the shoulder. "Prat. That's just not what I meant."

"I know." Harry gave a small grin. He'd like to think his dad was laughing it up at this conversation right now. "But it was funnier to say."

"True." She agreed, eyeing the door. "You know, we really have an amazing talent for getting off track. We could even get an O for it!"

"Who'd be the teacher?" Harry wondered aloud. "It has to be Snape. He might just be the greatest person at getting off track. Just say my name and he starts frothing at the mouth."

"Rabid." She agreed. Daphne faked a snooty voice. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Breathing again? Tisk tisk. That'll be five points from Gyffindor and—why are you still existing?" She said blitheringly. "I thought I said to stop breathing! That's a detention!"

"But Professor!" He whined for the bit.

"No buts!" She definitively said, voice cracking slightly. "Be sure to take your punishment like a good bo—"

Harry poked her nose. "You're atrocious, Daphne."

"Professor Daphne." She corrects as she batted away his hand. Her eyes are lit up whilst she smiles at him.

Harry rolled his eyes again, feeling infected by her energy. "Yes, Professor. I mean, the title is given out to anyone—like Snape—so why not?"

"Exactly, Professor Potter."

"Professor Greengrass."

"I wasn't aware I had hired any new professors." A suitably amused voice called from behind them. Harry would have jumped if he were standing, but his body only tensed up instead.

Harry's head snapped back. "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Professor Potter?" Dumbledore said with a small chuckle. The man's eyes were scrunched up in amusement.

Harry should've been used to the aged headmaster's behaviour by now, but…well, both he and Daphne were looking at the professor with mouths agape. Dumbledore had an amazing talent for slicing through the perspective of him being a wise, serious old man.

Then again, he also had a stellar ability to actually be a wise, serious old man.

"How'd the meeting go?" Daphne asked, breaking through the silence. If he was going to be speaking of talents, Daphne had the amazing trait of not caring about social queues. She knew of them, sure. She just didn't care. "Not well, I suppose?"

"Not well." Dumbledore agreed, sitting next to them from across the still-closed door. "But that is not surprising to you two, is it?"

"Snape left in a tizzy. Of course something went wrong." Harry sarcastically said. "Then again, anything gets Snape in a tizzy. And why're you out here when the door is still closed?"

"Professor Snape, Harry." Dumbledore reflectively corrected. "And that is because I left the meeting early. I learned everything I needed to know from it."

Daphne tilted her head curiously. "And you learned…?"

Dumbledore gave a sombre smile, tilting his head down a smidge. "That Britain is going to need much help, and far more hope, to survive the future. Daphne, Harry—it may have taken hundreds of years and thousands of men to build Rome, but it was not built with just woods, stone, and clay. It was hope and dreams which built Rome. And it is hope and dreams which Britain will need in these coming days."

"But Rome still needed men to be built, Professor." Daphne pointed out.

Harry nodded in agreement, not liking how bleak things were. "You can't win wars with just ideas. If it were that easy, Voldemort would be in the grave already."

"And yet, it is hope which is the cornerstone of any movement." Dumbledore said. "For if you have no hope, why even fight at all? Hope is the fuel which burns man to act, dreams are the cause which all people strive and yearn for. Without hope, without dreams, there will be no use for a million men and a billion galleons. They'll be tools for no purpose."

"But a million men and a billion galleons would be helpful." Harry commented.

Daphne nodded. "Exactly. We still need people and assets if we want to fight."

Dumbledore breathed out, looking older by the minute. He seemed to be ageing rapidly, like his remaining years were being stripped from him every second. "I know…I know this well. And yet, all of the people we have to fight have given up."

"Professor?" Harry blinked, looking confused.

"It is as I say, Harry." Dumbledore softly said. "The Order has been greatly harmed. Not in power, but in soul. As of yesterday, five members of the Order have vanished: Nymphadora, Arthur, Alastor, Kingsley, and Elphias have all not been heard of within the past twenty-four hours. We can only hope that they have been captured…"

Mr. Weasley and Mad Eye had been taken? Or killed, a dark part of his mind whispered. He ignored it. He felt terrible for Mrs. Weasley. He felt bad himself, Mr. Weasley had always been nice to him.

Tonks had been nice as well…

Dumbledore looked down, blue eyes incredibly sad. "The Order has all but given up. Fear, Daphne, Harry, is a vicious beast. Most have lost faith in me. Most have lost the will to fight. Those willing to fight in our numbers are too little, too few. Amongst those in Britain, Voldemort has won."

"But why, Sir?" Daphne said aloud. "Why give up?"

"Because they are scared." Dumbledore answered. "They are sad and they are scared. They are like great flames which have seen water douse all which is around them. They fear spreading into the lands which have been quenched, fearful they themselves may too be put out. They have lost faith in my ability to provide them fuel and keep them bright…"

"Because you didn't know what Tom was doing?" Harry asked aloud.

Dumbledore nodded, shame heavy on his face. "Because I did not know what Tom was doing. We were all taken by surprise, something which shook us all dearly. Some were shaken far more than others."

This…is terrible, Harry thought grimly. It reminded him of something Hermioned had told him of once—Murphy's Law. If everything that could go wrong would go wrong, it would be what had happened the past two days.

The only way things could get worse is if the muggles decided it was time to start launching the nukes. But, who knows? Maybe Voldemort will march up to the Minister, imperio him, and then try to bomb the United States or Russia. Or both.

Seems like something Tom would do.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and breathed out. "What are we going to do, then, Professor? We both will help you." He looked towards Daphne who nodded her agreement. "So what do you need us to do?"

Dumbledore smiled, but there was no joy to it. "That makes me very happy and very sad, Harry. It is a terrible day when the weight of the world is left on the shoulders of those far too young to be forced to bear it."

"But we can." Harry defiantly protested.

"You certainly can." Dumbledore agreed. "You certainly can help. And you will. But the world is only worse for it—those far older than you have failed.'

"What can we do?" Daphne repeated for Harry, not caring for Dumbledore's wallowing. "Because even if the people who should be fighting are not, he and I are able. So tell us what to do."

Dumbledore was silent for a second, deep in thought. "Very well, I have a task for both of you. You will join me on a trip. You know this place well, Harry."

"I do?"

"You do." Dumbledore nodded. "And we are going there to procure an item. We will leave now."

Harry blinked in surprise. "We will? What about Sirius? Shouldn't I tell him we are leaving?"

"He is still in a meeting with the rest of the Order, Harry. I'm afraid he will be caught up in there for far longer than necessary."

Harry didn't question why Dumbledore left the meeting early. Probably a mix of disgust, shame, guilt, and anger. Harry was feeling anger and disgust with the Order himself, so Dumbledore probably felt some too.

Daphne spoke up. "How will we get there, Professor?"

Dumbledore reached out a wrinkly hand. "Grab onto me, the both of you. I will apparate the both of you there."

Harry obediently grabbed onto Dumbledore with Daphne, wondering what apparate meant. Before he could voice his question, his world was swirling and he found himself being shoved through a pipe the size of a needle, like he was being crushed from all sides and launched at the speed of light.

Almost instantly, he was on the ground in a darkened graveyard, gagging as heaved up air. His palms were on the ground as Harry tried his hardest to keep his guts within his body. It was a battle he was struggling to win.

"First time side-along apparating?" Daphne said with a giggle, reaching a hand to pull him up. Graciously, he grasped her hand and pulled her to the ground. She squeaked like a mouse as she fell, tumbling on top of him with her honey hair draping over Harry's face.

With a groan, Daphne rolled off of him whilst Dumbledore lightly chuckled at the both of their predicaments.

"You're a twat." Daphne whined, pushing herself up. Harry managed to get himself up off of the ground, dusting the dirt off of his body. Instantly, he took in the area. It was the same place Cedric had died.

Harry's eyes shot towards Dumbledore. "Why're we here, Professor? This is where…" He trailed off, not wanting to get into it.

"Where Voldemort came back, yes." Dumbledore lightly said. "And it is near a place that holds great interest to Tom, a place he may have placed an important item at. I'd have brought us closer to it, but I'm afraid we'll need to take a short walk."

"A Horcrux?" Daphne wondered aloud.

Dumbledore nodded. "A Horcrux. Follow me, will you two?" Dumbledore began walking in a direction before they could even agree. "The place where we are going to is the ancestral home of Tom's family—the Gaunt house. Whilst Tom was raised as an orphan, that is due to the fact his mother, Merope Gaunt, died at childbirth."

"But his last name is Riddle, Sir." Harry pondered. "Who was his father?"

"A muggle." Dumbledore simply said. "His father was Tom Riddle Senior, a muggle. A muggle who had been influenced by love potions to procreate with Merope. The Riddle family and Gaunt's had deep hate for each other, with Tom eventually killing his father and the Riddles to make a Horcrux—an act he blamed on his pureblood grandfather."

"Voldemort is a half-blood!?" Daphne practically shouted as they moved through the dark forest. "But—but…?"

"Ah, here it is." Dumbledore amusedly said as a ruined hut filtered into view. "The Gaunt's ancestral home. This, I believe, is where Tom hid one of his Horcruxes."

The hut was ruined, not the sort of place you'd expect an ancient family like the Gaunt's to have lived in. It was more like a witch's hut from an old story, the kind of place you'd expect an ugly, wart-filled woman to hide in and make potions.

They walked up to it, approaching the whittled down door of the hut. It looked incredibly worn by time. Harry could almost imagine a young Tom here in the past, discovering his heritage and being disgusted by what he had experienced.

It was surreal.

Dumbledore moved his wand through the air, golden wisps of energy pouring out of it and spreading around the room. These eldritch strings of energy floated through the air, cycling about and trying to find something.

Likely the Horcrux.

After a long wait, the golden threads seem to dive down at a wooden tile on the floor and dive at it. A black light flashed, the golden threads disappearing.

"There it is." Dumbledore muttered, waving his wand. The planks of wood that made up the floor vanished, a ball of water forming around something. Black, ink-like goo seemed to dirty the water, pouring out of the centre and polluting the liquid.

"Is that the Horcrux, Professor?" Harry asked, getting no response. Dumbledore seemed to ignore him, far too focused on what he was doing.

Eventually, the ball of water vanished as well, a ring falling lifelessly on the ground. Entranced, Dumbledore walked up to it. Glee almost poured from him.

"Professor?" Harry repeated.

Dumbledore kept his eyes on the ring, kneeling and reaching his hand out to it.

"Professor?" Harry repeated again, growing worried. He shared a glance with Daphne. "I really don't think you should be touching tha—"

Dumbledore grasped the ring, put it on, and screamed in agony. The man collapsed, convulsing as black bolt of lightning crept up his arm.

Harry flashed his wand out. "Expelliarmus!" The ring flew from the Headmaster's hand and towards him. He dodged the ring, flying behind him.

Daphne had already run towards Dumbledore, flipping him over and looking at him. He looked pale, but alive. A black rot seemed to start at the ring finger.

Eyeing it carefully, Daphne raised her wand and pointed it at Dumbledore's finger. She looked ill. Harry was about to ask her when she spoke. "Diffindo."

Dumbledore's finger fell cleanly off.

"What're you doing?!" Harry rushedly said, moving to pull her off of Dumbledore.

Daphne looked back at him. "Trying to fix the headmaster! Look, the black rot seems to have moved to the part of the hand where the stump is. We might need to cut the whole thing off. This is really, really dark magic."

Harry remained silent, looking over the wound. It looked black, no blood bleeding out. "Let's cut in chunks."

Daphne nodded and cast another spell, severing the whole hand. Yet again, no blood spewed out as the rot moved up. Another spell, the whole wrist gone. Again and again and again. Finally, the whole arm was gone. Blood spilled out like a waterfall.

Harry couldn't stop his relieved laugh of joy, even if it was a sick thing to laugh at. With a spell, Daphne clotted the wound. He hadn't known she knew any healing magic.

"Professor, why'd you put the ring on?" He asked the barely-conscious man.

Dumbledore blinked slowly, like the world was slowly filtering in. "...my whole life, Harry, I have looked for that ring. And yet, it has to be destroyed. I had wished to use it for five minutes, for just five…" Dumbledore sighed, pain heavy in his voice. "Thank you, the two of you, for saving my life. I fear I may have died if you were not here."

"We need to destroy the ring." Daphne simply said.

Standing up, Dumbledore weakly walked towards where the ring fell to. "I know…I know." Dumbledore raised his wand, scorching flames swirling at the tip. The fire roared towards the general direction of the ring and half of the shack was suddenly gone. The ground became slag, the air broiled, and the world could be described as hot.

The roar of fire eventually ended with a violent wail of black smoke. In the middle of the once-raging inferno sat a small, black stone.

Dumbledore looked at the gem, blinked a few times, and laughed. He laughed at a joke Harry and Daphne did not know. But it seemed incredibly hilarious to the headmaster.

"What a fool I am…" Dumbledore muttered, rubbing the stump of his left arm. "What a fool. You two, please leave me be for a while. I need some time to myself."

With a glance at each other, he and Daphne moved into the forest. For some reason, though, Harry swore he could hear the voice of a young girl.