CHAPTER – 18 THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX
Sirius Black watched from the shadows as Harry stepped out of the ice cream parlor all alone. He saw the boy visibly exhale, then Apparate away with a slight crack. Barely a moment later, the veela girl emerged from the parlor, glancing around discreetly. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she turned in the direction of Gringotts and walked away, likely returning to her day job.
His godson had chosen to meet with the girl on his terms. Not wanting to intrude, Sirius had readily agreed to the request. And no, lurking in the shadows didn't count as being present.
Still, as pleased as he was that Harry was engaging with the veela in this manner, he couldn't help but feel a hint of concern. Beautiful women they may be, but that beauty came with its own set of complications.
"Kreacher."
"The filthy Lord Black calls for Kreacher?"
Sirius twitched but didn't whirl around like a startled teenager. The elf's behavior hadn't changed a bit despite the activation of the Lar. Sometimes he wondered if he had a masochistic streak in him. Why else would he still keep Kreacher around?
"Did you have to announce yourself like that?"
The elf's physical form faded into non-existence, but his voice continued to echo all around. "Yes, filthy Lord Black."
"Of course," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He glanced back in the direction that Fleur had departed. "I have a feeling that Harry will be seeing more of her in the future."
He was still quite suspicious of why the crafty goblin had introduced the veela into Harry's path. It was inconceivable that Griphook had been unaware of the girl's status as the Beauxbatons Champion. Harry had informed him about the Overlord's tentative offer of support, but, in the end, goblins were still goblins.
They might be on Harry's side, but they weren't his friends.
Not that his godson needed to concern himself with any of that. Sirius was here to do that for him.
"Should Kreacher treat her as a threat to the half-blood brat?" Kreacher asked in his characteristic bullfrog voice.
Sirius opened his mouth to respond but then thought better of it. Kreacher was the type to not hesitate to murder the girl in cold blood if he even remotely sensed hostility from her. And hostility would be rather understandable if she discovered she was being stalked.
"She's an unknown variable," he answered after a pause. "It's entirely possible that she's an unwitting victim of circumstance, or perhaps even a pawn." He paused, recalling the peculiar exchange she and his godson had at Gringotts. "But something about her bothers me. I have a feeling there's more to her than meets the eye."
"Does Master want me to eliminate her and dispose of the body?"
Sirius resisted the urge to pull out his hair. "No, you blasted elf! Maintain your distance, but gather as much information about her as you can. Find out where she goes, who she associates with, who she represents, and most importantly, what her true intentions are here. I want all of it."
"Understood," Kreacher replied, and in the next instant, he was gone. Not Apparated. Not vanished.
Just... gone.
"Showoff," he muttered before shaking his head. The events at the bank the previous day were bound to have their own consequences. Now was the time to anticipate how things would unfold and devise the best strategies to turn them in their favor.
Glancing toward where his godson had been standing moments earlier, Sirius straightened his robes and left the room.
"BOY-WHO-LIVED TAKES UP THE MANTLE OF LORD POTTER!"
"FIRST TRIWIZARD, NOW WIZENGAMOT!"
"Well," Andi announced brightly, holding up the day's edition of the Daily Prophet as Harry descended for breakfast, "look who's made the headlines again."
"I count the days when I'm not the star of that rag," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. As expected, Gringotts had sent a missive about his latest developments to the Goblin Liaison's office at the Ministry of Magic. Given that the Daily Prophet's headlines were authorized daily by the Minister himself, there was no doubt that his new Lordship would make the news.
"So, what are they saying this time?"
Andi began to read aloud.
— Harry Potter has done it again. Like every year since his return to the Wizarding world after a decade of private education, Harry Potter has once again managed to attract attention to himself. The Boy-Who-Lived, infamous for his ability as a Parselmouth, a trait shared by dark wizards such as Salazar Slytherin and You-Know-Who, has once more demonstrated that his fame has gone straight to his head —
She looked up from the newspaper. "Really, Harry, I didn't know Gilderoy Lockhart was your role model."
He snorted in response. "Keep going."
— The controversial Triwizard Tournament saw Harry Potter participating as an illegal Champion despite being underage. Potter then gained notoriety for the murder of Cedric Diggory and twelve other well-respected purebloods. Diggory, whose father, Amos, leads the Department of Magical Creatures, was well-known for defeating Potter in a Quidditch match — a noteworthy feat given Potter's controversial appointment as Seeker in his first year. Did Diggory's victory, followed by his selection as Hogwarts Champion, awaken feelings of jealousy in the Boy-Who-Lived? Witnesses claim that Potter accused Cedric Diggory of petrifying and abducting him from Hogwarts, a shocking accusation considering Diggory's reputation as a gentle and kind-hearted Hufflepuff, compared to Potter's arrogant demeanor and penchant for exploiting the Headmaster's favoritism. Slytherin Chaser Urquhart had this to say —
"Enough of that," Sirius's gruff voice interrupted as he entered the room.
"Hey, Padfoot!" Harry greeted Sirius with a smile.
"Seriously, kiddo, how can you just sit there and listen to that load of rubbish?"
Harry shrugged. "I guess I got used to it over the years. No matter what I say, that rag will print whatever they think will sell, and people will eat up every word. Last year, it got so unbelievable I even made a game out of it."
"A game?" Andi raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, to see how twisted Skeeter can make it. Turns out people believe every single bit, even the crazy parts. Did you know that Mrs. Weasley got all upset with Hermione when Skeeter painted her as my girlfriend after the First Task?"
Andromeda chuckled at the description. "What happened?"
Harry hesitated, not sure how to answer without making things awkward. Should he reveal that Mrs. Weasley believed he should end up with Ginny Weasley, who had a crush on him? Or that he suspected Ron had feelings for Hermione, but was too dense to realize it?
"Molly is the kind to believe that rag's nonsense," Sirius interjected, saving him from the awkward situation. "But forget about her. Tell us about the lovely lady you had a date with yesterday."
"Oh? What lady?" Andi questioned, both eyebrows raised as she looked at Harry. "And since when have you been dating, big guy?"
"You'd think he'd start with Madam Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade, maybe move on to underage firewhiskey through the back doors of the Hog's Head. But no, this little rascal is going to ice cream parlors with his lady friend in the middle of the day!" Sirius said, wiping away an imaginary tear from his cheek. "Kids these days! They grow up so fast."
Harry sighed. "There's no lady in my life—"
An offended hoot came from the background.
"I'm not talking about you, Hedwig!"
"I wonder how your owl made that connection," Sirius chuckled, glancing at Hedwig, who was giving him baleful looks from her perch on the windowsill.
"Hedwig's special," Harry said fondly, earning a pleased hoot from her.
"Somebody's whipped," Sirius quipped. "Looks like your veela friend has some competition. I wonder if it's because they're both avian in nature," he added, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Stuck between an owl and a veela," Andi, his healer turned traitor, added with a smirk. "I can see a complicated love triangle forming there."
"Oh, you see it too?" Sirius said, feigning surprise. "I thought it was just me."
"Alright, children, that's enough!" Harry quickly interjected, his face turning redder by the second. Seriously, how did his meeting with Fleur Delacour turn into... this?
A loud gong from the entranceway caught their attention.
"Looks like somebody's here," Sirius said. Harry started to get up, but his godfather waved him off. "Don't bother," he muttered, squinting for a moment.
"They're here."
"Who?"
"Dumbledore's lot," Sirius said with a sigh, plopping down onto the couch. He glanced at Andi. "You're staying, right?"
Andromeda hesitated for a moment before giving a terse nod. "You know why they're here."
"Unfortunately," Sirius sighed, meeting Harry's eyes. "No doubt they've seen the newspaper. I'd bet my left arm that Dumbledore wants you out of here."
"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Why?"
He had heard about Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, a secret organization that fought under Dumbledore's leadership during the previous war. His parents, Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew had all been part of the Order back then. With Voldemort's return, Dumbledore had reactivated the Order, and the biggest surprise of all was that Sirius had offered his home as the Order's headquarters.
Sirius frowned. "Well, I may have given him the wrong impression earlier when I pulled you out of Hogwarts. This was meant to be a break for you, and instead, I got you involved in family business. Dumbledore might see that in a negative light."
"But why?" Harry couldn't understand. Sirius had been the best parental figure he could have ever imagined. While this summer hadn't started off the best way, it was his own fault. He had chosen to go to the corridor to hunt doxies despite Sirius's warnings. And despite that, his godfather had been nothing but patient with him, leaving no stone unturned to keep him safe and get him better.
"The Black family comes with a lot of baggage," Sirius explained. "For all Dumbledore's talk about giving people second chances, he's never been able to look past the Black name and its history. He might think that I'm trying to manipulate you into becoming a pureblood aristocrat, just like my father and grandfather tried to do with me."
"Are you?" Harry deadpanned.
"Well, of course," Sirius shot back. "Minus the aristocrat part. Your dad and granddad would have a fit if you didn't know your family traditions. There's a difference between respecting your traditions and knowing your history and being a bigot. Unfortunately, that's a line the Chief Warlock has never been able to recognize."
"Well, bully for him, I'm not going anywhere," Harry declared.
"Of course not," Sirius agreed. "You're a Black, and this is your home." He then closed his eyes and whispered, "Allow them in."
As if his words were a magical incantation, the large front doors opened, and Harry could hear several people speaking in hushed voices. Three or four, he couldn't be certain, entered the atrium, casting wary glances around. Sirius turned to Harry. "How did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"That door thing."
Sirius snapped his fingers, and poetically enough, the doors closed on their own. "Magic."
Both Harry and Andi rolled their eyes.
"You actually fell for it," Sirius chuckled. "It's the wards. They answer to me. Since I didn't sense any hostile intent from those at the doorway, the House allowed them entry into the atrium."
"Wards can do that? Sense intent and all?"
Sirius just laughed in response. "Kiddo, trust me. There isn't much that wards can't do. But you'll need to take Runes and Arithmancy at Hogwarts to understand it all. Divination won't help you there."
"So much for an easy OWL," Harry grumbled. Divination was turning out to be a real pain in the arse. Even if he ignored Professor Trelawney's ridiculous classes and even more ridiculous homework, he was beginning to wonder if he'd made the wrong choice in sticking with Ron and taking the easy way out.
"You can always drop Divination, you know," Sirius suggested. "Keep your Care of Magical Creatures elective and go with Ancient Runes and Arithmancy instead. Kreacher might still have my old books and notes lying around somewhere. He can dig them up for you. Maybe you can attempt those OWLs privately in your sixth year or something."
"I'll... consider it," Harry replied. Honestly, he was starting to worry if Professor McGonagall would even allow him in her classes. While he had regained his proficiency in Charms, his transfiguration skills left a lot to be desired.
And to think that the Scottish professor had been warming up to him during the week he'd spent alone at Hogwarts.
"Still thinking about your Transfiguration troubles?" Andromeda inquired sympathetically. Seeing his surprised expression, she snorted. "You're rather easy to read, Harry. It's something else you might want to work on."
Harry sighed. Great.
"It's not as bad as it seems," Sirius chimed in. "Some people, like your friend Hermione, are generalists with magic. Others are more specialized, and some have inherent magical traits."
"Like Parseltongue?"
"Exactly," Andromeda confirmed. "And don't forget, you also have an affinity for the Dark Arts. Honestly, it was like watching Bella in action."
"Wasn't it?" Sirius added. "And there's that thing with ice."
Harry thought he sensed a strange tone in his godfather's voice, something reminiscent of how Sirius talked about Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter. It was odd because Bellatrix Lestrange, or Bella, was a feral Death Eater and one of Voldemort's most loyal followers.
"What exactly am I supposed to do with that?" Harry grumbled. "Open up an ice cream shop? Give Florean Fortescue some competition?"
"Well, that escalated quickly," Sirius grinned. "So, I take it your ice cream date today went well?"
"Don't make me hex you."
The group of guests—whom Sirius referred to as Dumbledore's merry band—were actually people he already knew personally. Most of them, anyway. Harry spotted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sitting on one end of the couch by the door, with Mrs. Weasley wearing a rather vivid frown. He noticed a strangely twitchy Remus Lupin in a nearby chair, Bill Weasley leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and a couple of unfamiliar faces standing near the door, engaged in hushed conversation.
Are they all part of the Order?
It was surprising and somewhat concerning that everyone he had associated with over the years seemed to be part of the Order. Had he really been so isolated all this time, living in a gilded cage where only a select few had access to him? He was already bothered by the fact that he had magical relatives all this time at Hogwarts, yet none of them had reached out to him in the past four years.
"And now, this."
"Professor Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Harry cheerfully greeted as he descended the stairs. "I didn't know you were coming."
"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley's eyes brightened at the sound of his voice, and she quickly approached him. Harry braced himself for a massive bear hug, which she delivered, nearly squeezing the air out of him. He managed to suppress a cough as she finally let go and gave him a quick once-over.
"My, you look so skinny. No matter. I told Ronnie you'd be joining us for dinner at the Burrow. We'll fatten you up in no time."
Harry frowned at the assumption.
"Mrs. Weasley, has Ron heard from Hermione? She hasn't written to me at all."
She beamed at him. "Oh, don't you worry, dear. Hermione recently moved in with us at the Burrow. Professor Dumbledore thought it might not be safe for her to stay with her parents, given the circumstances. Not that it's a problem or—"
But Harry wasn't listening anymore. Hermione had moved to the Burrow, and neither of them had told him about it. A bitter taste settled in his throat.
"And why hasn't anyone informed me about this?"
"Well, Harry," Arthur Weasley began, "Dumbledore suggested we give you some time alone. Time to grieve."
Grieve? Grieve for whom? While Cedric had been neutral toward him, he hadn't exactly tried to stop his friends from wearing those 'Potter Stinks' badges. He didn't wish for Cedric's death, but he wasn't going to mourn him either.
"But that doesn't matter, dear," the Weasley matriarch continued. "You're coming to the Burrow with us. I'm sure you'll be delighted to be with your friends again."
"That might have to wait," Sirius's voice interrupted. "Harry and I already have plans for tonight. We have a reservation at Old Lisbon, you know."
Harry resisted the urge to turn around in surprise, instead keeping his emotions under control. "Sirius insisted on celebrating my assumption of the House Potter Lordship." He didn't look back at Sirius for confirmation.
Mrs. Weasley gave Sirius a frosty look before turning a beaming smile toward Harry. "Either way, Ron is expecting you. Dumbledore told us you'd be so happy to spend the summer with us."
That tiny seed of bitterness started growing into annoyance. Why was the Headmaster making decisions for him? He was living with his godfather, and he was happy. Spending a few days at the Burrow was one thing, but the implication that he'd rather be there than spend time with Sirius irritated him. Before he could respond, Sirius cleared his throat loudly.
And for a good reason.
"Moony!"
If Harry didn't know Sirius's true feelings about his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he would have assumed they were best friends. Sirius had approached Remus with a bear hug. "You're back, huh?"
"Only for a short time," the werewolf replied with a casual smile. "I'll be leaving soon. Dumbledore has me working with—" he paused, glancing toward Harry, "well, you know."
"The werewolves, yes," Sirius replied nonchalantly, which seemed to disturb the werewolf. "I assume they're still in Lochcarron, right?"
Harry couldn't help but find the whole situation amusing. Sirius had described in detail how Albus Dumbledore insisted on keeping information strictly on a need-to-know basis, with Dumbledore having the final say. Andromeda, surprisingly, was going to be part of the Order just because of her profession; you could never have too many healers when you were fighting the Dark Lord. Harry had watched Andromeda passionately express her views on the Order and how they had involved her daughter, which had infuriated her.
"You're meeting other werewolves?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject. "Isn't that what Voldemort is doing? Recruiting werewolves?"
The atmosphere instantly tensed up. What was once a relaxed room felt like a tightly drawn bowstring on the verge of snapping. Professor Lupin's face went blank, and Mr. Weasley hissed at the mention of Tom's name. Sirius, on the other hand, remained casual, in stark contrast to Mrs. Weasley, who was sitting on the edge of her seat, her hands gripping the chair's arms so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Sirius," she snapped, glaring at his godfather, "have you forgotten what Dumbledore said?"
Harry had expected Mrs. Weasley to chastise Sirius, not launch a full-scale attack. He marveled at how seamlessly she had shifted the topic from his question to a discussion between two Order members. He wondered if it was intentional.
Sirius's outward demeanor was like an unmoving slab of granite. "Oh, have I? Please, enlighten me."
"The part where he said not to tell Harry more than he needs to know," Mrs. Weasley emphasized each word, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Even Bill seemed to take notice of the argument, perhaps because not many challenged Mrs. Weasley the way Sirius did.
"Harry is my godson," Sirius countered, his voice firm. "I respect Albus Dumbledore, but that doesn't give you the authority to make decisions on my behalf. You won't dictate how Sirius Orion behaves in his own house. I offered this venue to the Order as an act of faith, and your actions are not appreciated."
Harry sensed a shift in the magic around him as Sirius spoke. It was as if the House itself had picked up on something in Sirius's declaration and was reacting accordingly. He wondered what it meant.
"I'm—" Mr. Weasley started, his expression conflicted. "Sirius, we're not trying to undermine your authority over Harry, but—" he paused to choose his words carefully, "I believe what Molly is trying to say is that she— we consider Harry a son, just like Ron. She's trying to protect him from danger."
"And how does keeping secrets from me protect me?" Harry interjected.
Mr. Weasley let out a weary sigh, his hand reaching up to rub his tired eyes. "Harry, I want you to know that I'm not trying to downplay the pain you've experienced. But it's important to realize that what you've faced so far was a direct threat. A battle. War, on the other hand, is a complex, multifaceted struggle. It's fought not just on the front lines but also in the Ministry, at the Wizengamot, through coalitions, alliances, and covert operations. There are layers within layers, hidden agendas, and both sides vying for support at any cost. War is a beast with many heads, and the Order is working to manage it."
He offered a weak smile. "So believe me when I say that you don't need to concern yourself with all the intricate details of the Order's work."
Harry nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Fair enough. You don't have to reveal anything to me. Or to Sirius, for that matter. If it's that secretive, perhaps you should consider a different location for your Order meetings."
"Sirius—" began a tall, heavily-built, dark-skinned, and bald man, attempting to mediate.
But Sirius cut him off, his tone firm. "No, I won't back down on this. Being a part of the Order means having access to confidential information, and I won't keep things hidden from my godson. I'd sooner leave the Order than keep secrets from Harry."
The man fell silent, and Sirius fixed him with a stern, unyielding gaze. "Let's not forget that if it weren't for my godson, none of us would even know that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned. Voldemort's activity has been kept in check largely because of Harry. And yet, you're comfortable with keeping him in the dark. That's hypocrisy at its finest."
He then turned his attention to Arthur Weasley. "You mentioned coalitions and alliances. Arthur, can you guarantee how many votes will be in my godson's favor at his upcoming trial?"
Arthur couldn't meet his gaze and looked away, evading the question.
Remus Lupin tried to reason, "Sirius, I understand your frustration, and I know you blame all of us for your wrongful imprisonment. But this isn't the way. Harry is just a child; he shouldn't be involved in this war against Voldemort."
Harry interjected, his voice laced with frustration. "Maybe you could tell that to Voldemort the next time you encounter him. Remind him that I'm just a child. Perhaps do it before he attempts to curse me with the Killing Curse again. I've survived it twice already. Let's hope the third time isn't the charm."
Remus recoiled as if slapped, surprised by Harry's sharp retort. Harry knew he wasn't as tactful or refined as Sirius when it came to delivering insults, but if these people were going to belittle or disregard what he had endured, then he believed turnabout was fair play.
Harry hadn't intended to unleash his pent-up anger in that manner. The coldness in his tone and the bitterness in his words surprised even himself. Part of him seethed with anger at the Weasleys and Lupin for presuming they could dismiss him regarding Voldemort. For better or worse, the Dark Lord had been defeated because of him and, more importantly, his parents. Every year at Hogwarts, he had been hunted by various incarnations of Voldemort or his followers, yet he had managed to survive it all. Regardless of what some well-meaning but misguided individuals might have to say.
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of his emotions.
Anger. Rejection. Vindication.
All swirled within him, but he also sensed a wrongness in the way he had lashed out. Mr. Weasley had always been kind and supportive to him, providing a home and treating him like a son. His outburst had been wholly inappropriate.
He opened his eyes, preparing to apologize, but someone else spoke first.
Andi approached Mr. Weasley, who still appeared taken aback by Harry's fierce response. "You know," she began, "my daughter is part of the Order." Harry could hear an embarrassed 'Mum!' from the crowd, but Andi paid it no mind. "I was initially against it. She's only a junior Auror, and I'm proud of her for achieving such a prestigious position at a young age. But I also think she's too young to be involved in this war. What do you think?"
"Mum! I'm an adult!" protested a bubblegum-pink-haired young woman.
Arthur Weasley stuttered out an excuse, which Andi chose to ignore.
"I'm a healer," Andi continued, "and I'm ready to provide my services for your noble cause. However, discounting Harry seems like a mistake if you intend to win. Let's not forget that the reason we even have a fighting chance is because of him."
Harry couldn't help but admire her directness—it was like a sledgehammer to the stomach.
Sirius raised his voice, taking a firm stance. "I've offered my House as a venue for Order meetings, even at the cost of my own security. I've pledged a portion of the Black Family's finances to support the Order's cause. But I will not allow my son to remain ignorant of any information the Order gathers about Voldemort."
At that moment, a familiar, grandfatherly voice echoed from the end of the corridor, breaking the tense atmosphere. All eyes turned toward the source, and Harry was taken aback by the unexpected appearance.
Albus Dumbledore had entered the scene.
The tension in the air was palpable.
Sirius muttered something disparaging about Albus under his breath, and Albus, true to his character, did not react. He had always been a master at maintaining composure, making it difficult for others to manipulate him. A reactive opponent was easier to control, but a composed one posed a greater challenge.
"You've certainly been busy," Albus commented lightly as he approached. "Gaining the Lordship through unconventional means, when the Ascension should have taken place during the Winter Solstice. And entrusting such a young boy with the responsibilities of a Family Name. It's as if you've accelerated his transition into adulthood, robbing him of the joys of childhood."
Sirius didn't mince words in his response. "What little time I have left."
Albus froze momentarily, the unexpected rejoinder catching him off guard. His gaze shifted to Harry, who met his gaze with open antagonism. Albus had worried that something like this might happen when he allowed Sirius to take custody of Harry. The cheerful façade and tales of summer vacations had led him to believe otherwise.
But now, Sirius Black had followed in the footsteps of previous Black family members. He had introduced Harry to the world of politics and pureblood elitism, a treacherous path for even the most experienced witches and wizards, let alone a Hogwarts student.
Harry thought to himself, I was right; the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree, just in a different way.
Albus extended a friendly smile toward Harry. "I'm pleased to see you looking well, Harry. Are you enjoying your time with your family?"
Surprisingly, Harry did not react to the pleasantries as Albus expected. Instead, his response was laced with frustration. "I am happy, Professor. I have a godfather, a house where I am truly wanted, and I'm finally learning about my own family history, something I should have done a long time ago."
"Mea culpa, as the Romans used to say," Albus offered in a somewhat apologetic tone. "I believed it was in your best interest to experience a normal life before delving into the complexities of Family Names, traditions, and responsibilities. I didn't want you to carry the weight of those burdens at such a young age."
Harry's reply was cutting. "I've been carrying the weight of a madman trying to kill me year after year, Professor."
The remark struck a nerve, and Albus couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance rising within him. Even when the horcrux had been within Harry, he hadn't been this defiant. Though, deep down, he still harbored doubts about whether Harry might still be a horcrux. Nothing short of intense dragonfire or basilisk venom, or perhaps the cataclysmic Hellfire, could destroy such abominations.
It was within the realm of possibility that the horcrux had transformed Harry, granting him immunity to the Killing Curse. If Death had not claimed Harry's soul, why would it consume the horcrux? Unless...
Albus closed his eyes briefly, unwilling to entertain the possibility. Yet, a nagging thought persisted.
He glanced toward Sirius, who was clearly blinded by his love for Harry. Albus had heard of the boy's new wand, made of yew and thestral hair—a combination notorious for its association with curses and death. It was not the type of wand that the Light should have in its arsenal.
"That kind of behavior doesn't suit you, Harry," Albus said, though his tone was tinged with uncertainty. "You're still a child."
Harry chuckled bitterly. "Didn't you just tell me I'm a child, Professor? How else should I act?"
With that, Harry coldly turned away and ascended the stairs, disappearing from view. Albus watched him go in silence, his mind racing to understand the implications of this act of defiance. Only days ago, he had offered to provide Harry with private instruction during the summer to better prepare him against Voldemort and the dark forces.
But now, he was unsure if Harry would accept.
The prophecy had spoken of the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, but it had never specified whether they would be a savior or a prince of darkness.
Albus pondered the weight of that uncertainty as he stood in the grandeur of the Black Manor's atrium. The atmosphere remained thick with tension, and Albus could sense that the path ahead was fraught with uncertainty and challenges.
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