Padfoot did not shake Harry's hand the next time they saw each other, but only because he had no way to get to Harry—and Ron, who'd arrived with him—through the large figure wearing a familiar brown overcoat, who was taking up most of the width of Grimmauld's hallway.
His scent was woodsy and familiar, but layered with the gingerness of pain, and another smell that was like Hagrid but not.
"Hagrid?!" Ron asked.
Hagrid's bushy black head turned. One of his eyes was bruised and swollen almost completely shut, and he had a nasty split in his lip, but neither stopped him from beaming at the sight of them.
"Ron! An' Harry!" He closed the length of Grimmauld's hallway in two great strides and swept them up into one of his bone-crushing hugs.
"Hagrid," Harry said, when he released them, "what happened to your face?"
"Nothin' I can't handle," he said, waving an enormous hand, though his scent turned oddly guilty. Harry wondered if he'd somehow got his hands on another dragon. "Don' yeh worry about it. How about the two of yeh? An' Hermione an' Draco, o' course. Have yeh all been well? Keepin' outta trouble this year?"
Harry exchanged a look with Ron, who grinned and shrugged.
"Probably depends who you ask," Harry said after a moment. There was a loud snort from behind Hagrid, and, in the gap between Hagrid's side and arm, Harry caught a glimpse of Padfoot.
"They're still causing plenty of trouble," Padfoot assured Hagrid, who gave Harry and Ron a fond look, "but mainly for the Ministry and Voldemort—" Hagrid twitched violently at the name. "—so that's got to count for something."
"Professor Dumbledore was telling me some of what the Ministry's bin trying ter pull at Hogwarts," Hagrid said with a frown.
"You might wish you'd stayed away," McGonagall said, coming up the kitchen stairs. She pursed her lips at the sight of Hagrid's injured face. "Rough as they can clearly be, there are some days where I'd sooner deal with the giants than our esteemed High Inquisitor." Ron snorted and Harry tried to cough to cover his snigger. McGonagall raised her eyebrows at them, then looked up at Hagrid, expression softening. "Though I am glad to see you back and—mostly—well, Hagrid. Hogwarts isn't quite the same without you around."
She put a hand on Harry's shoulder, partly to usher him forward, Harry was sure, but he suspected she was also using him as a bit of a shield against Hagrid's obvious desire to sweep her up into a hug.
Hagrid backed up, shuffling down the hallway, and then ducked to squeeze into the Order's meeting room. Harry, Ron, and McGonagall followed.
It was busy inside—they were clearly some of the last to arrive—but despite the bustle, the first person Harry noticed was Madame Maxime, due to her sheer size. She was speaking in rapid French to Fleur, while Moony nodded thoughtfully. He looked up when Harry came inside and Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise; his face was covered in lumpy red hives. Moony smiled wryly and nodded toward Fred and George, who were standing with Mr Weasley.
Something small collided with Harry's knees and he crouched down to receive an enthusiastic and slightly unstable hug from Stella. Dora was standing a few feet behind her, beside Moody.
"You're walking by yourself," Harry said, offering Stella his hand. She took it in her sticky, surprisingly strong grip, and steadied herself. "That's pretty clever."
"She is when she wants to be," Dora said, with a wry, fond smile. "She's been pretty determined to tackle the stairs lately, though, which I reckon is slightly less clever…"
"That is less clever," Harry agreed, tickling Stella's side. She let out a squeal and grabbed his fingers.
"Ree!"
"Ree?" Harry repeated, giving her hand a gentle shake to get her attention. "Is that me? Am I Ree?"
"Actually you and Kreacher are Ree," Dora said, looking amused; her hair was a sunny yellow. Ron guffawed as he went to join the cluster of Weasleys on the other side of the room.
"Me and Kreacher?" Harry looked at his godsister. "You can't do that, Stella. I'm Harry. Can you say Harry?"
"Ree!" Stella squawked, bouncing their joined hands up and down.
"Could be worse," Padfoot said, as he came up behind Harry to rest a hand on the back of his head. Harry leaned into the touch as much as he could without pulling away from Stella.
"Than being interchangeable with Kreacher?" Harry asked, looking from Stella to Dora. Dora smiled wickedly.
"Who's that, Stella?" Dora asked, stepping forward to point at Padfoot. "Who's this?"
"Poo!" Stella exclaimed, beaming. Harry snorted and then began to laugh properly. Padfoot—who still had a hand on Harry's head—gave his hair a tug.
"Come on," Dora said, and scooped Stella up. She immediately let out a whine of frustration. "Let's go find the other Ree—" She winked at Harry. "He's keeping an eye on her while we're in the meeting."
Harry had time to greet Marlene and the rest of the Weasleys before Dumbledore called for everyone to sit; he wound up between Quirrell and Ron.
"Potter," Quirrell said. "Going all right?"
"I'm okay," Harry said. "You?"
"Welcome, all," Dumbledore said, before Quirrell could answer. "Thank you—again—to Sirius, Harry, and Kreacher for providing us with our Headquarters—" Dumbledore waved his good hand at the room. "—and thank you—all of you—for making the time to join us tonight. Officially, we have no new members, but some of you may not know Rubeus Hagrid—who is both the Care of Magical Creatures professor and our Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts—and Olympe Maxime—who is Headmistress of the prestigious Beauxbatons Academy. They have been away on Order business these past months and will provide an update shortly.
"Before that, however, I feel it would be remiss of me to refuse to acknowledge what I am sure many of you have already noticed and have doubtless heard rumours about." Dumbledore held up his withered hand.
Though Harry knew it wasn't news to everyone there—people like Moony and Dora, for example, had surely heard through Padfoot—it was only Ron, Padfoot, Bill, and Snape who did not react. Clearly, it was one thing to hear what had happened, and another to see it in person.
Even Harry straightened, though he knew his own curiosity was different. They were in the same boat, he and Dumbledore; they were both carrying something of Voldemort's making which would be the death of them if a seemingly-impossible solution couldn't be found quickly enough. Harry had confided in Dumbledore about the horcrux he was carrying, and Dumbledore, in turn, had confided in Harry about his curse. Dumbledore had not asked Harry to keep what he knew to himself, but Harry had, so far. Now, Harry was curious to hear what he would tell the Order about it, to hear what Dumbledore considered to be acceptable common knowledge.
"The Hogwarts staff and students—those not in this room—have not been told any sort of official story," Dumbledore said. "Those inquisitive enough to ask me directly have been told I was in an unfortunate magical accident and that my reflexes are not what they once were." Dumbledore clasped his blackened hand gently in his healthy one. "There are certain sensitivities associated with my injury—both relating to how it came about, and to its specific nature—and for that reason, I will not share everything. However, as members of the Order, it is relevant for you to understand certain things. Firstly, that I have been cursed."
Whispers rippled around the room. "It is an obscure and rather nasty curse—one that would have had far more dire results had it not been for my own attempts to mitigate its impact, the very timely arrival of proper help, and—dare I say it—a good deal of luck." Dumbledore inclined his head at no one in particular, and Harry couldn't tell if it was for sake of not drawing attention to him and Snape—neither of whom particularly liked the spotlight—or because Dumbledore had decided not to share the names of those who'd been involved. "Even despite that timely intervention, there have been consequences, and there shall continue to be unless or until a counter-curse can be found."
Several heads swivelled to Bill, looking variously hopeful, anxious, and curious. Bill bore them, looking impressively unfazed.
"In the meantime," Dumbledore continued, "and in the face of my own, newfound limitations, I would ask, more than ever, for your trust. I would ask you to trust me, even if I am not always in a position to explain the full rationale behind the decisions I may make, or why I must ask certain things of you individually and collectively. But more than that, I ask that you trust each other, as I trust all of you." No one moved, or spoke. There were quite a few in the room who weren't even daring to breathe. "This fight against Lord Voldemort and his followers—and to some extent, some of the Ministry's more challenging opinions—is not a fight that will be won by any one of us alone. This is a fight that will require us to work together, so that we may achieve what would be beyond any one of us as individuals."
Dumbledore clapped his hands together. It was a gentle clap, given the state of his hand, and a soft sound as a result, but it cut through the still silence. Everyone in the room seemed to breathe again.
"Now, I think I've said enough for the moment. Hagrid, Olympe…?"
Hagrid's big, bushy head turned toward Madame Maxime, who gestured with a ringed hand for him to go ahead.
"Righ'," Hagrid said, nodding. He stood, smoothing down his coat, and straightened. He cleared his throat in an official sort of way, and it occurred to Harry that he was nervous; he'd been like this before their first Care of Magical Creatures class, too. "Righ', well… After June, Professor Dumbledore asked me ter approach the giants, same as he asked Remus and Rosier ter approach the werewolves…" Hagrid gestured, rather awkwardly at himself. "Olympe was good enough ter come with me… good thing too, or we probably wouldn't've made it out…" Hagrid shook his head. "It all started well enough… we managed to win over the Gurg, Karkus—"
"Gurg?" Padfoot asked, looking at Hagrid, then at Moony.
"Chief," Hagrid said. "S'what they call 'em. Though' it was all looking all right, an' he seemed happy enough ter hear what we had ter say, an' was righ' pleased with our gifts…" Hagrid heaved a great sigh. "Then the Death Eaters turned up, tryin' to win over the giants themselves, jus' like Dumbledore knew they would. Macnair was there, an' a couple o' others, with gifts, jus' like Olympe an' I had, 'cept Karkus didn't seem ter like them quite as much as ours. Macnair an' the others set up righ' at the edge of the giants' camp, an' by the time we worked ou' what they were tryin' ter do, it was too late; they talked some of the giants inter startin' a fight. Doesn' take much ter rile the giants, 'specially when they're livin' all close together like they are. Bu' this wasn' just a scuffle over the best sleepin' spots, or an old tribe grudge, it was somethin' else.
"Two days, it lasted." Hagrid looked as grim as Harry had ever seen. "Olympe an' I did what we could—healin', an' the like, mostly—but ended up havin' ter get ourselves out before the firs' day was up. More because o' the Death Eaters than the giants… Weren' quite bold enough ter have a go at us while we had Karkus' favour, bu' once the fightin' broke ou' I think they figured we were fair game. We managed ter find a cave system ter hide in, an', by the time we'd given Macnair the slip, the fightin' was over. About a dozen of 'em were dead, and Karkus was one. He was murdered by the new Gurg—giant by the name o' Golgomath." Across the table, Madame Maxime curled her lip. "By helpin' him make Gurg, the Death Eaters'd already given him the bes' gift he could ask fer. We did wha' we could ter win him over, bu' he wasn' much interested in us or our gifts. We spent a bit o' time trying ter win over the giants tha' weren' supporters o' Golgomath—there were six or seven of 'em at one point—" Hagrid sighed heavily. "—but Golgomath's lot got wind of it… attacked them again, and they didn' want nothin' ter do with us after tha'."
"Ze giants are a lost cause," Madame Maxime said, bowing her head.
"You have done well all the same," Dumbledore said. "And I thank you both personally, as well as on behalf of the wider Order, for your efforts, and for the risks you were willing to take on our behalf, and I am sure that I speak on behalf of everyone here when I say that, above all, we are glad to have you both back with us, and safe."
Hagrid looked a little cheered by that, but it was clear that it weighed heavily on him, the fact that they'd not been able to win the giants over.
It seemed to weigh heavily over the rest of the Order, too; no one spoke, and the silence that had settled over the room was grim. Harry couldn't help but think that they'd not had much luck with other magical beings at all; the Order had failed with both the werewolves and the giants now, and though they hadn't made any efforts to court the dementors, they had certainly attempted to curb them, and failed at that too.
"Severus," Dumbledore said. "Would you like to share your news?"
Snape gave a short nod.
"I can confirm that Crouch and Pettigrew were behind the attack on Ollivander's." Harry was not the only one to raise his eyebrows at that, and he saw Padfoot and Moony share a dark look across the table.
"Do we know if Ollivander is alive?" Shacklebolt asked in his deep voice. "The Dark Mark—"
"Ollivander lives, as far as I am aware," Snape said. Bexley hissed something at Dora that Harry couldn't hear over the rest of the murmuring that followed that, and she put a hand on his arm.
"Where—"
"I do not know where he is being kept," Snape said, rather tersely. "Somewhere the Dark Lord can access him, though, no doubt; Crouch suggested the Dark Lord has some personal interest in him."
"So Voldemort's looking at wandlore?" Padfoot asked. "What else would he want Ollivander for?"
"Perhaps," Snape said, with a shrug.
"What else would he want Ollivander for?"
"I've had no opportunity to ask him," Snape said. "The Dark Lord remains reclusive."
"Do we know anything else about the attack on the shop?" Mrs Weasley asked. "You mentioned last meeting that Crouch and Pettigrew had plans for Christmas, Severus. Is this related, or—?"
"Related, yes," Snape said, inclining his head, "or at least, I believe so. When I spoke to him, Crouch implied that securing Ollivander was not originally their intention; it was only at the Dark Lord's request that he was spared."
"But then why did they go after the shop?" Dora asked. She glanced at Kingsley, then at Padfoot. "What would Pettigrew and Crouch need with wands, or wand core materials? That's the only reason I can think of for them to go there…."
"What indeed?" Dumbledore murmured. "Severus?"
"I know no more than that, Headmaster," Snape said, shaking his head. "I believe this is related to whatever their December plan is, but it is not yet clear to me—or any of the other Death Eaters I have tried to pry information from—how. All we can be confident of is that Crouch and Pettigrew are still working toward an event or outcome of some significance in December."
"Any idea when?" Moody asked.
"No," Snape said. "Crouch and Pettigrew have been tight-lipped on the matter." His mouth curled down. "On the topic of Death Eaters who have not been tight-lipped, however, Lucius Malfoy has passed the names of known—and suspected—Order members onto the Ministry." That was news to Harry, but he was clearly one of the only ones for whom that was the case; most of the others just sighed or nodded.
"What?" Harry asked. "Why?"
"Presumably he intends to force divisions in the Ministry; the Minister does not trust Dumbledore, nor—by extension—the Order and its members," Snape said. "He will be resistant to actions coming from sources he believes are connected, and similarly, distrust information fed to him—"
"It's making my life very frustrating," Percy said, with a sigh. "Not because he's not listening to me—I'm not really in a position to give advice, after all—but because I can't be sure that what he's telling me—or even what I'm overhearing—is right, or whether it's some sort of trap."
"Yeah," Harry said, frowning, "I can understand why Malfoy's done it, but why now? He knew who was involved in the last war. He's probably made guesses about the others, and anyone that he couldn't be sure about, he could have confirmed with Snape at any point since the Order started up again." Snape stared back, impassive. "So why hasn't he shared it before—he could have, at any time since June. Why's he waited until now?"
"Both good questions," Dumbledore said heavily. "And both questions I have been asking myself—and Severus—too. If anyone has any ideas, or insights, I would welcome them." He glanced around the room. Ron shifted beside Harry, as did several others, but no one made any suggestions. "Very well. Amelia, could I trouble you for an update on things in the D.M.L.E.?"
"Of course, Headmaster," Bones said briskly. "As I'm sure most of you are aware, the Ministry is not formally aligned with the Order of the Phoenix—and in fact, several departments and high-ranking Ministry officials seem to be moving in active opposition of what we are trying to achieve here." She pursed her lips. "That said, the Order certainly continues to have an ally in the form of my Department. Rufus Scrimgeour and his Aurors—even the ones not in attendance—" She smiled faintly at Dora, Shacklebolt, Bexley, Padfoot, and Marlene. "—continue to appreciate the threat that You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters pose, and continue to make sensible, practical decisions in response to their activity, as well as proactively.
"The Aurors—as I'm sure you're all aware—have taken over all responsibilities relating to security at Azkaban, as well as at the Ministry generally. Fudge might be complacent, but we are certainly not. Further, the trainees—" She nodded at Bexley. "—are being trained harder to ensure they're adequately prepared for anything they might face, and existing Aurors are being encouraged to attend refresher sessions; Scrimgeour's of the impression that if it's going to be war, they need to be ready. And in the same vein, there's a small group of volunteer Aurors led by Lyra Finch, who are offering general self-defence lessons for Ministry staff outside of the D.M.L.E.. Fudge's initial concern was that it was one of your initiatives, Dumbledore, but Finch wasn't on Malfoy's list of names, so he's gradually warming to it as a capability-building exercise, and we're seeing good interest from Ministry staff. Good thing, too," she added, rather bluntly, "most of the people showing up haven't cast a shield charm or a disarmer since their school days, and to be frank, they're hopeless."