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Harry stood in the doorway of the kitchen, eyes darting around the dark and dank room. Sirius’ family home was certainly miserable, but Harry would’ve been more tolerant of the conditions if not for the fact that Sirius also seemed to hate it. Frankly, he didn’t quite think these were the proper conditions for recovery from long-term dementor exposure.
But what did he know– he was only fifteen, only a kid, wasn’t that why nobody had told him anything all summer? Earlier, he’d lost it a bit at Ron and Hermione, and the twins had teased him for it, but honestly he was still wound up. He’d fought Voldemort last summer, had seen him return. He’d watched Cedric die after fighting in a deadly tournament meant for people in their majority that no one could seem to get him out of, and now they decided to put on the kid gloves. It was driving him mad.
He stepped into the room fully, sliding into a chair to George’s left. The other boy’s knee knocked purposefully against his, and Harry took comfort in the silent support. Fred leaned over from George’s other side.
“The only reason we’re here is because of you,” said Fred. “Mum’s been keeping us all out of any Order business, but before you arrived Sirius made it clear that he wouldn’t be keeping his godson in the dark in his own home.” Harry was filled with a rush of warmth for his godfather.
“And then we insisted on attending,” George said. “Since we’re older than you. And Ron and Hermione pointed out that they’re your age. Ginny’s the only one not allowed, but Mum’s barking if she thinks we’re not telling her everything anyway.”
Harry grinned viciously. “Absolutely.”
Fred patted his head. “Knew you’d understand.”
And speaking of the devil, Sirius suddenly appeared on Harry’s left, sliding into the empty chair there. Ron and Hermione bounded through the open kitchen door, and their faces fell upon seeing the full chairs on either of Harry’s sides.
He resolutely ignored their gazes, equal parts ashamed and angry.
Sirius leaned over to talk with him and the twins. “How many of these people do you recognize? I can introduce you to everyone, but most were at Hogwarts closer to your time than mine– much of the original Order is… dead.”
George nodded, looking around the table. “There’s Talbott Winger,” he said, tilting his head towards a silvery-brown haired man who was sitting alone in the back. “He was a Ravenclaw in Charlie’s year. Orphaned by Death Eaters, and joined the Auror core after graduating.”
“Chiara Lobosca and Nymphadora Tonks,” Fred said. “Tonks was on the guard that brought you here– er–” He cut off abruptly and side-eyed Sirius who smirked.
“I know all about your little eavesdropping toys,” he said. “I’m no snitch.”
“They’re hardly toys,” Harry said, nudging him. “More impressive than anything your lot got up to.”
Sirius looked offended. “We became illegal Animagi! I had to keep a leaf in my mouth for a month!”
Harry smirked. “They’re starting a business.”
Sirius rolled his eyes, but the twins gave identical grins.
“Anyway,” said Fred. “Lobosca and Tonks were in the year below Charlie, both ‘Puffs. Lobosca’s the one with the green robes, she’s a Healer at St. Mungo’s now. Tonks is an Auror, I’m pretty sure, or at least a junior Auror. She’s a Metamorphmagus.”
Sirius nodded. “Tonks is my cousin once-removed, too. Anyone else?”
“Angelica Cole,” George said, eyeing a brawny woman with long, dark hair. “She was before our time entirely, graduated the year before Per– Oliver came to Hogwarts.”
“So a while ago,” Harry surmised, tactfully ignoring the slip.
Fred nodded. “Pretty sure she’s going around studying mountain trolls now, or at least last I heard. And then–” His eyebrows shot up. “Karasu!” He yelled, and a head of strawberry-platinum blond hair shot up from across the table. The face of an impish girl broke into a wicked grin, and she bounded over to them.
“The twin terrors!” She crowed. “And how are you two?”
“Quite well, Madam,” George smirked. “Allow us to introduce our host, Sirius Black, and our dear friend Harry Potter.”
The woman didn’t flinch at their names, shaking Sirius’ hand and then Harry’s. “Tulip Karasu,” she said. “I graduated in ‘91, the year before you came,” she said, nodding at Harry.
“Charlie’s year,” Fred nodded. “She was a Ravenclaw, absolutely brilliant.”
Her smile was sharp. “I work at Zonko’s now, in their experimental division.”
“Some of their best products are owed to her,” George sighed, swooning into Harry’s lap. He giggled.
“It’s a pleasure,” he said. “Please call me Harry.”
“Same to you. Call me Tulip.”
Fred straightened with offense. “We don’t get first name privileges!”
“You’re gits,” she said, waving him away. “I’ve got to go catch up with Winger, but we’ll talk later?”
“Absolutely,” George grinned. She bounded away towards Talbott Winger, who was still sitting alone in the back.
“Her breed is the best of Ravenclaw,” Fred said. “She’s a fun one. Parents in the DMLE, so she had a shadow to break out of at Hogwarts.”
“She’s brilliant,” George agreed.
“Alright,” Sirius grinned. “Establish a fan club later. Who else do you know?”
Harry looked around. “Oliver’s here!” He sent a wave in his old Quidditch Captain’s direction and got a cheery one in return.
“Yup,” said Fred. “I also see Lucas and Oscar.” Lucas Romero and Oscar Kneen, graduated Gryffindors that Harry knew at least in passing.
“The Haywood sisters,” said George, nodding at the ex-Hufflepuffs Beatrice and Penny Haywood. Harry recognized them, too. Penny was three years older than her sister, and had a Potions Mastery, but Beatrice had graduated just two months ago.
“There’s Diego!” Said Harry, and exchanged smiles with Diego Caplan, another ex-Hufflepuff who’d graduated in Harry’s first year. Diego was an excellent duelist who’d helped Harry and Cedric train for the Tournament last year. He’d been a friend of Cedric’s, as an old Hufflepuff, and the older champion had called in a favor. Harry pushed the now painful thoughts away.
“Simon Flume,” Fred said with an impressed expression. “He was a Gryffindor Beater in Bill’s year. His parents own Honeydukes.” Harry’s eyes went wide.
“Merlin!” George said suddenly. “There’s a Slytherin in our midst. Khanna!”
Someone across the table with reddish brown hair looked up, eyes narrowed. Their face contorted into a smirk, and they stood from their chair and approached.
“Lord Black,” they said respectfully. “I thank you for inviting me into your home. Heir Potter, well met.” Their eyes fixed on Fred and George. “Twin Terrors.”
The twins grinned evilly. “Harry, Sirius, allow us to introduce you to Rowan Khanna, pronouns are they and them. A slimy snake from Charlie’s year.”
Khanna rolled their eyes. “Yes, and you were little Gryffindor brats.”
George put a hand to his chest, mock-wounded. “And we’re not still?”
Khanna snorted and stalked away.
“They’re always fun,” Fred smirked. “And it looks like they’re here with a friend. Imogen Stretton, a Slytherin in the year below Khanna. The boy next to her is her younger brother, Jeremy. He was a Ravenclaw, graduated this past June.”
Harry’s eyes flicked over them. Jeremy Stretton was a vaguely familiar face, and he’d probably seen Imogen Stretton at least once or twice before. Khanna was entirely unfamiliar, but that wasn’t surprising.
“By the gods!” George said suddenly. “Sullivan Fawley!” A Hufflepuff who’d also graduated two months ago looked up and waved. Harry recognized him, as well; he’d been friends with Cedric.
“Sully’s younger brother is ten now,” Fred said. “Little Grim Fawley. He’ll be joining the Hogwarts ranks next year.”
“They named their kid Grim?” Sirius asked. Harry looked over with raised eyebrows.
“What? Jealous that you’ve got to share the title?”
Sirius grinned. “A bit.”
“That’s pureblood naming traditions for you,” Fred mused.
“I also see Kingsley Shaklebolt,” George noted. “Moody, Emmeline Vance– she was in the last Order, I believe, along with Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge. Sturgis Podmore, Hestia Jones, Mundungus Fletcher– Fred, we should make contact with him, he’ll have some good connections.”
“At least give me plausible deniability,” Sirius grumbled, leaning back in his seat.
The twins ignored him. “That’s Tamsin Applebee,” said Fred. “She’s a Hufflepuff in our year, was a friend of Cedric’s. Quidditch Captain. Probably only allowed to be here because she’s reached her majority.”
“Is that Thakur?” George said, squinting across the room.
Fred followed his gaze. “Good Godric. Vikram Thakur? I think it is.” He glanced at Harry and Sirius. “Thakur is a Slytherin in our year. I had no clue that he shared our sympathies.”
Sirius grunted. “Slytherin politics. It’d be incredibly dangerous to show those sympathies. Everyone here is here with the understanding that nothing discussed or seen leaves this room.” He pointed at the three of them. “And that includes you all,” he said.
“Of course,” Harry agreed, watching Thakur. The boy was sitting slightly to the side and behind Imogen and Jeremy Stretton, which was reasonable. Imogen was also a Slytherin, Jeremy a Ravenclaw, and Ravenclaw and Slytherin weren’t necessarily hostile. Plus, Jeremy was only a year older. That was likely friendly territory for him.
“He looks to be of South Asian descent,” he said after a moment, looking down at his own skin. “Is he a pureblood?”
“Half-blood,” George said, watching Harry carefully. “Thakur is a Bengali surname, so his dad’s family is from India. But Thakur isn’t a Wizarding name. If they’ve established a House, it’s small. His dad was a Muggle-born, or another half-blood, or a Muggle.”
“But his mom was a Parkinson,” Fred said. “It feels unlikely that his dad was non-magical. Sometimes the blood purity twat families overlook blood for the sake of ability, so his dad could have been a particularly capable Muggle-born, but more likely a particularly capable half-blood.”
“Well, he’s here in the Order,” Sirius pointed out. “So it’s not impossible that the circumstances were unusual.”
“Maybe,” said George. “But some blood purists will disown family members for marrying Muggles, and the Parkinsons haven’t had a disownment in at least the last century.”
Sirius grunted, his eyes darting over to a woman whose face was shockingly like Narcissa Malfoy’s. Her hair was dark and curly, but her posture and face were the same. Harry blinked. It was like he was looking at an inverted image.
“That’s my cousin,” Sirius said. “Andromeda Tonks. Disowned for marrying a Muggle-born. Ability be damned, in the Black family. We were the Black family black sheep together.”
Harry nodded slowly. “Any relation to Narcissa Malfoy?”
Sirius glanced at him. “They were sisters. Along with Bellatrix Lestrange. Neither of us feel that our disownments were a great loss.”
“Hm. I think I agree.”
“The Parkinsons hail from the Mediterranean,” said Fred, “specifically Lebanon. That’s where the olive skin and straight dark hair comes from. You’ve got one in your year.”
“Pansy Parkinson,” Harry said. “Yeah.”
“The Parkinsons married into another family from Thailand a while back. They did it several times over, so the influence– and inbreeding– is strong,” Sirius said. “Not like the Blacks can talk. But supposedly the Thai heritage is where the Parkinson nose and face shapes come from.”
“Hereditary traits,” George agreed. Harry examined Vikram Thakur, and he could make out the jawline and nose of Pansy Parkinson in his mulish expression.
“He’s probably your Parkinson’s cousin,” said Fred. “At least in the absolute loosest sense of the word. I’d imagine they’re not very close if her dad is a Death Eater and he’s sitting here in the Order.”
“Could you tell me about other Wizarding family heritages?” Harry asked.
The twins took it in stride: “Yeah. You remember Damien Shafiq? The Shafiqs are an old Wizarding family, hailing from Arabia. The Longbottoms have been in the British Isles for centuries, from around when Hogwarts was founded. Their surname was probably once some iteration of Langbothm or Langbotehom. It essentially means their ancestral home was in the bottom of a long valley.”
“The Blacks were from France,” Sirius offered. “Aristocratic legacies. Dark hair and eyes, aquiline noses with strong bridges and slight hooks. We’ve got gray eyes, generally. The Ollivanders are German or Polish, and literally every single Ollivander has those weirdly luminescent silver eyes.”
“The Lovegoods are Swedish, with their light hair and petite features,” said George. “The latest Lovegood’s mother was from Japan. Pandora Miyamoto, I’m pretty sure.”
“Lovegood?” Harry asked.
“The youngest is a Ravenclaw in Ginny’s year,” said Fred. “Little Luna Lovegood. The Malfoys and Rosiers are both French, like the Blacks. The name Malfoy has a correlation with ‘bad faith,’ which is hilarious. The Rosier name is related to roses, like the flower, so their family probably used to have strong Earth magic connections. I’d bet that the Rosiers are all excellent at Herbology.”
George nodded. “The Zabinis are Italian, the Lestranges are French with English influences– their name means ‘foreign.’ The Abbotts are also French or English; ‘abbas’ means priest, and ‘abba’ means father in Hebrew. They probably used to oversee spiritual functions. Macmillan is a Scottish clan, which is supposedly descended from Airbertach, a Hebridean prince of the royal House of Moray, connected to Mac Bethad mac Findláich, aka Macbeth, son of Findláich of House Moray.”
Harry blinked, gaping. “Macbeth… as in Shakespeare?”
“That Muggle bloke?” George nodded. “Yeah, I think he wrote his play based on the historical figure. The Smith family claims relation to Helga Hufflepuff, who was a Viking, so they're likely Norweigan, or at least Scandinavian. Hufflepuff was born of the valleys of Wales, or so it’s said, so they probably also have Welsh influences. I personally doubt that Zacharias Smith has much of the Hufflepuff legacy left in him, though.”
Harry snorted at this.
“Potter is an Anglicanization of your original surname,” Sirius offered. “The Potters were originally from India, specifically Tamil Nadu. The Potter Estate library kept meticulous records. You were known as House Potdar, and the name was adapted when you came to England. That was only about a century ago, give or take. You’ll notice the Potters weren’t included in the blood-purist’s elite list in the 1930s– the Sacred Twenty-Eight– and that’s because they weren’t well established in England yet. They were still primarily considered a House of India, and the Sacred Twenty-Eight was drafted by British blood-purists.”
“Charming.”
“Isn’t it just?”
“The Weasleys and the Prewetts were both from Normandy originally,” said Fred, “but we’ve been in England for a long time due to various conquests. ‘Weasley’ is probably a diminutive of Weslai, or Westley, or Wesleigh. In Middle English, ‘lei’ meant clearing, and in Old English ‘lēah’ meant clearing in a forest, so the name West-ley probably meant that our ancestral home was in a western clearing or forest.”
“‘Prewett’ is a form of the Olde French surname Prowse,” said George. “In Olde French, ‘prou’ or ‘preu’ meant brave or valiant. In Middle English, ‘prew’ meant the same thing. ‘Ett’ is a suffix. The Prewetts were probably considered brave warriors.”
“How do you know that?” Said a new voice, and the four of them turned to see the entirety of the assembled Order staring at them in silence. It was Ron who had spoken, and Harry resisted the urge to flush under the mass scrutiny. Everyone was mostly focused on the twins, anyway; it was them who’d been speaking.
Imogen Stretton leaned forward with a glint in her eye. “Your knowledge of heritages is very interesting, considering the Weasleys are widely known as blood-traitors.”
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Jeremy Stretton caught her eye with a glare, and she closed it again. Harry knew why; this was a test. The Strettons were feeling out the twins and the Order both, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t do the same right back. And besides, the comment had likely been intended as inflammatory. Two blood-purists weren’t very likely to just walk into an Order meeting, much less be trusted enough to know about it.
George shrugged, seemingly without care. “Last I checked, that was a term coined by blood purists that condemned us for not swearing by incest and bigotry. So, yeah, I’m pretty happily a blood-traitor.”
“What we’re not, however, is traitors to our heritage,” said Fred, equally casually, propping his knee up against the edge of the table. “Family history is both interesting and important in terms of learning family magics, understanding Wizarding culture, and respecting the past. But yeah, I plan on only marrying for love, and if I happen to love a Muggle, it’s just more fascinating ancestry for my descendants to trace and a happier life for me.”
George nodded. “And more things to learn. Wizards don’t really do chemistry, or mechanics, or technology. Our magic teaches us more and less.”
There was a ringing silence following their statements, and then the older Stretton leaned back with a wide grin. “Very well put.”
Harry grinned at Hermione’s bewildered expression. Rowan Khanna caught his eye and smirked. Sullivan Fawley was hiding laughter in the crook of his arm. His family was one of the blood-purists’ Sacred Twenty Eight, meaning they’d upheld their ‘purity’ and political prestige until at least the 1930s. A Hufflepuff he may have been, but Harry knew Fawley had caught the nuances of that exchange perfectly fine.
“I see why they call you the most cunning of the lions,” said a quiet and firm voice, and all eyes shifted to Vikram Thakur.
Thakur studied the twins carefully, and then he nodded. Fred and George stayed very firmly in their relaxed positions. Then, horrifically, Thakur’s gaze shifted to Harry. Everyone in the room was observing the faceoff carefully, and thus everyone’s attention followed.
Thakur very slightly raised an eyebrow, and Harry knew what he was asking.
He cursed internally, and then nodded. “I also didn’t yet know the rules of the game. It would have been much harder.”
The twins’ eyes shifted over his face. Thakur smirked, and the elder Stretton’s eyes were wide.
“No way,” she breathed. “Seriously?”
Harry straightened his spine. “You’ll find me, at this point, quite devoted to Gryffindor House, but after four years of learning the lay of land, I can dance quite well.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If you do say so yourself.”
He tilted his head. After a moment of mutual appraisal: “Yeah. I do say so myself.”
She arched an eyebrow, and his face remained impassive. It was a tense several seconds before her posture relaxed, and he copied her precedent.
“Merlin and Morgana,” said Sirius. “I hate Slytherins.”
“Would you try to claim a place?” Thakur asked.
“I haven’t,” Harry said, and this meant that he might yet. His posture remained determinedly casual.
Thakur narrowed his eyes. “And if you’re challenged?”
“Then I’ll prove myself.”
“Just like that?”
He hummed. “Are you quite familiar with Conquest rights, Heir Thakur?”
Thakur’s eyes got very wide. “No way. That’s– an entirely separate–”
“Entirely separate claim,” Harry agreed. “If I wanted, I could challenge their Lord.”
“Am I not a part of the ‘them?’”
Harry scoffed. “I’d hardly do it for any reason beyond fighting Voldemort. So no. And this is likely why the Hat was happy enough to oblige me. I hear a certain amount of ambition is needed among your kind. I have the cunning, but mostly I want justice and peace.”
Stretton the Elder scoffed, but she was grinning.
Thakur studied him for a moment, and grinned a sharp kind of smile. “Excellent. They don’t realize that we have a legacy far beyond him. I would support your claim if you were to prove your power.”
Harry nodded. “It would make the clean up easier, to destabilize their assurances. Reduce them to only the die-hards.”
Oscar Kneen sighed in a very put-upon manner. “Would someone mind spelling out what the hell is happening for those of us that are dense?”
Stretton the Younger rolled his eyes. “Thakur was suggesting that the Twin Terrors could’ve been placed in Slytherin; that the Hat suggested it to them, but that they declined for Gryffindor. They didn’t deny it, which is as good as confirming it, and then Thakur asked Potter if he’d been offered the same. Potter said yes–”
Ron choked. “Sorry, what?”
“The Sorting Hat offered Gryffindor or Slytherin to ickle Harrykins,” said George.
Harry flicked his forehead for the nickname. “Yes, and I chose Gryffindor, because I hardly knew Wizarding culture or politics well enough to walk into the political minefield of Slytherin at age eleven. I could do it now, mind you, but now I’ve been in the Wizarding world for four years. Also, the only Slytherin I’d ever met had been Draco Malfoy, and he wasn’t a glowing representation.”
Stretton the Elder scowled, and Thakur rolled his eyes. “Mm… subtle he is not.”
Younger Stretton smirked, and continued: “So, Potter confirmed Thakur’s hunch, and assured my sister that he could walk the walk if he ever needed to. Thakur asked if Potter would ever try to claim a place of authority amongst the Slytherins, and he cast doubts upon Potter’s ability to defend himself if such a claim were to be challenged. Potter pointed out that he is the Heir of Slytherin, according to Conquest rights. Therefore, Slytherin House and its legacies would be obligated to accept his authority as long as he could prove his power and control.”
Hermione's mouth was ajar, her mind no doubt cataloging furiously.
“And the Death Eaters are mostly Slytherin legacies,” Harry said. “If I so desired, I could technically challenge the current Lord Slytherin, who is Voldemort.” Most of the room flinched. “If I were to prove my place as Heir, even if I was unable to claim the Lordship, it would destabilize Voldemort’s power.” More flinching.
Younger Stretton grinned. “Thakur asked if Potter considered him an enemy, and Potter said no. He also said he’d only ever use his position as Heir of Slytherin to destabilize You-Know-Who or assert his influence among the Death Eaters, so Slytherin House as an institution is safe from the leadership of someone who is, when it comes down to it, a Gryffindor, regardless of Lordships or Heirships. Thakur expressed a desire to return Slytherin House to its pre-war glory, and said he’d put his support behind Potter’s Heirship claim if he could prove his power.”
There was a large pause. Older Stretton sighed. “It’s just no fun when you spell it all out, brother dear.”
Younger Stretton leaned back in his seat lazily. “Not all of us are snakes that live and breath word games, sister mine. I can play your games, but I don’t have to. And some among us need things stated more explicitly.”
Oscar rolled his eyes. ‘“Yes, thanks everso.”
“What would proving his power entail?” Hermione asked, eyes glazed in a way that meant her brain was working furiously.
“A duel, usually,” said Thakur. “He’d challenge someone who currently carries political sway in Slytherin.”
“Malfoy would work,” Harry mused. “It really wouldn’t be very difficult to destabilize his power base, much less beat him in a duel. I assume the only reason that someone hasn’t done so in the last four years is for the sake of Slytherin unity? Well, I’m sure you can’t confirm or deny anything, but Malfoy is indeed not very subtle, and so if the only way to appear unified from the outside was to bow down to his prattish whims…”
Older Stretton raised her eyebrows. “Maybe you do have some moves, Potter.”
He smirked, and then glanced at the twins. “So you were offered Slytherin, too, then?”
They nodded, both grinning. “We’re kindred spirits, Harrykins.”
“So is that why you know all those heritages?” Ron demanded.
George narrowed his eyes. “No,” he said. “Thakur suspected us because of how we handled Stretton’s wordplay. Heritage is something that anyone can learn and take pride in, little brother, and we know it because of the pride we have in our family.”
“I have pride in our family!”
Fred nodded. “Yes, we know. It’s just a different kind. And if ours is not your kind of pride, then that’s your prerogative.”
Andromeda Tonks coughed in the corner. “Could we perhaps get started? Ted’s shift will be ending soon.”
Nymphadora Tonks rolled her eyes as her mother spoke, and Chiara Lobosca kicked her underneath the table.
“Aren’t we waiting for Dumbledore?” Arthur asked, drawing his attention away from his sons.
“And here I am,” said Dumbledore, appearing in the doorway. “I apologize for my tardiness. I’ve brought some friends along.”
Harry noticed Sirius tense next to him, and he flicked a narrow-eyed gaze between Dumbledore and his godfather. Obviously, if there was tension, he’d be on Sirius’ side, but he wanted to know what the tension was.
Following through Dumbledore were more people: Bill Weasley, with Fleur Delacour on his arm– Harry grinned and waved, and got beaming smiles back– Charlie Weasley, talking in hushed tones with someone equally muscular and scared who Harry didn’t recognize, and Remus Lupin, who’d left as soon as Harry was delivered to Grimmauld Place and was now evidently back. Staying a good six feet behind Remus was Severus Snape, who was trailed by a long-suffering Minerva McGonagall. Last came Arabella Figg, whose presence caused Harry a full body flinch.
The twins and Sirius immediately had their eyes on him, but he stared firmly forward and ignored them.
Dumbledore looked around the room. “We are all here, then, with the exception of Aberforth, Ted, and Rubeus.” Oliver Wood and Lucas Romero’s expressions darkened, which Harry did not miss. “Excellent. We shall fill them in at a later date.”
Sirius, distracted again, scoffed quietly. Harry carefully noted the reaction.
“Well then,” said Dumbledore. “As this is our first official meeting, introductions are likely in order. Ah– I apologize for stumbling upon that pun.”
Snape sneered fiercely, and sickeningly, Harry was almost tempted to join him. Sirius was having suspicious reactions to Dumbledore, but also, that was really bad wordplay.
“Ew,” Harry whispered to George, who snickered softly in agreement.
“To my right, Bill Weasley, a curse-breaker for Gringotts with international ties and connections to the goblins. He is currently working towards his Warding and Runes Masteries. Fleur Delacour, also working for Gringotts, with a greater international presence. An ex-Triwizard Champion. Next, Charlie Weasley, and his coworker Felix Rosier, both dragonolists in Romania who will be aiding our recruitment measures.”
Whispers started up at hearing Rosier’s surname. Charlie stood firmly at Rosier’s side, staring the rest of them down. Harry leaned forward with intrigue.
“That’s interesting,” he heard Fred mutter, and he agreed.
“I assure you,” Dumbledore said genially, with twinkling eyes, “that he supports the general values of his family no more than our own Sirius Black and Andromeda Tonks née Black do theirs.”
Sirius stiffened again, and Tonks the Elder’s eyes flashed menacingly. Okay, they didn’t appreciate that callout, not that Harry thought he would himself.
Rosier observed with a passive expression. Yeah, probably a Slytherin. That meant jackshit, though, besides the fact that he could probably outwit Harry himself quite easily.
“Next,” said Dumbledore, “we have Remus Lupin, who will largely be working undercover in various werewolf packs.” Harry watched how Remus kept his eyes fixed firmly downwards. That was a tactless way to bring up a part of Remus that he clearly despised and would rather not think about. Come to think of it, it was doubtful whether Dumbledore even asked if Remus would be comfortable with such a job.
Harry reached out and gripped Sirius’ elbow under the table. Their eyes caught, and Sirius nodded slightly, still looking pissed. Okay, so that was part of it, but not the whole thing.
“Then we have Severus Snape, dedicated spy in Voldemort’s ranks.” Most people flinched again, and Snape stiffened, eyes promising murder. Actually, Harry didn’t really blame him. Dumbledore maybe shouldn’t speak so candidly about their spies.
“My second-in-command is Minerva McGonagall, and then we have Arabella Figg.” Mrs. Figg, whose function in the Order, Harry noted darkly, was not mentioned.
Evidently he’d tensed more than he realized, because George pressed their legs together again. Harry breathed in carefully.
“Next we have Sirius Black, who has generously allowed us the usage of 12 Grimmauld Place as a Headquarters.” Sirius was about as stiff as stone at the moment, and oh yeah– Dumbledore was keeping him cooped up in here, which certainly was another part of why he was so pissed, but Harry didn’t think that that was everything, either. Something more was wrong, but he’d get it out of Sirius later.
“To my left,” Dumbledore said, and what the fuck, he’d reached Harry in the lineup and stopped, “We have some of my oldest friends, Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge, giving us social and political influence. Then we have Hestia Jones, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, and Alastor Moody, all members of our Advance Guard.”
“Next, our ears in the Ministry: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, Talbott Winger, all working in the DMLE. Arthur Weasley, the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, and his wife Molly Weasley née Prewett.”
“Also with us is Andromeda Tonks née Black–”
“Actually Albus,” she said smoothly, “I was disowned by the Black family. So you’ll find it’s just Andromeda Tonks.”
There was a beat of silence– oh, Harry liked her– and then Dumbledore recovered. “Of course, my dear, I’m so sorry–” please, let her kill him– “just Andromeda Tonks, then, who is our resident Arithmancy expert.” What a fabulously fumbled introduction. Mrs. Tonks was glaring ice. “Her husband Ted Tonks is currently working a shift at St. Mungo’s, but is also a part of our ranks.”
“Next we have Mundungus Fletcher, a man with connections to criminal networks who is excellent at keeping his ear to the ground.” Fletcher tilted a silver goblet towards the rest of them in lazy greeting. Molly sniffed, weirdly reminding Harry of Narcissa Malfoy.
“I now introduce to you Angelica Cole, who is currently studying Nadroj trolls, which are a rare breed of mountain troll. She travels across the continent regularly and has some fabulously exotic contacts.” Cole looked at them with steel in her gaze, as though daring someone to comment. Hm, Slytherin or Gryffindor? Hard to say. Sometimes they were stupidly similar.
“Next we have Simon Flume, son of Ambrosius Flume, who owns Honeydukes. Simon has excellent contacts throughout Hogsmeade, and will keep us well-informed of what his family picks up.”
Flume tapped the tip of his wand against his silver goblet, making a dull thunking sound. “I’d like to mention that first and foremost, my family and our business is loyal to the people. To the citizens. We won’t be closing our doors to anyone for a Greater Good, nor neglecting our duty to our community.” Dumbledore stiffened at those words. Greater Good? That had been Grindelwald’s motto. “Hogsmeade lost valuable people in the last war. Gideon and Fabian Prewett were killed by Antonin Dolohov after taking out five Death Eaters, and they fought in the streets of Hogsmeade, protecting the innocents. Their business, Marvelous Magical Timepieces, has served as a memorial to their sacrifice for the last fifteen years. I am here, more than any other reason, to honor them.”
Flume sat back to signal that he’d finished speaking, and Harry was incredibly impressed. His respect for the Flumes had just risen tremendously, and he silently swore to buy as much from Honeydukes as he could carry the first Hogsmeade weekend he could. Harry caught the eyes of Fred and George and arched an eyebrow. They grinned back at him.
“Very good, very good,” said Dumbledore, and Harry’s eyebrows rose at his stiff manner. “We then have Tulip Karasu, who works in Zonko’s experimental division. Next to her is Rowan Khanna, whose family tree farm supplies both Ollivander’s Wands and the Cleansweep Broom Company with quality wood.” Okay, that was impressive.
“Beside them, we have Imogen Stretton, who runs a private Dark Artefacts Demolitions business, and her younger brother Jeremy Stretton.” That was cool.
“No one calls me Imogen unless I tell them to,” Older Stretton said fiercely. “You call me Stretton.”
“Or you call her Immie,” Younger Stretton smirked.
“Melofors,” Older Stretton hissed, and then Jeremy’s head was very much encased in a pumpkin.
Sirius cackled with glee, the twins snorted, and Sullivan Fawley had the Melofors Jinx removed within seconds.
“Stretton,” Older Stretton repeated, and everyone hastily nodded.
“Next we have Sullivan Fawley,” Dumbledore said, skipping over Vikram Thakur entirely. Harry’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, and he caught Thakur’s eyes. The other boy somehow conveyed a sneer and a shrug without moving his face or body much at all. Well, okay then. “Sullivan was close with Cedric Diggory, and is here in light of his tragic murder.”
Fawley looked like he’d been slapped. Harry had ice flowing through his veins. That was entirely uncalled for. He might have stood and snapped at Dumbledore, but Sirius suddenly had an iron grip on his forearm. Harry glared and wrenched his grip away. Fawley was now looking down.
“Also with us is Chiara Lobosca,” said Dumbledore, either oblivious or cruel. “She is a wonderfully gifted Healer at St. Mungo’s.” Lobosca looked very uncomfortable receiving praise from Dumbledore. She kept her eyes on Fawley, who still wasn’t looking at anyone.
“They were Housemates,” George said lowly, “but even if they’d been mortal enemies… that was a bastardous thing to say about Fawley and Diggory both.” Harry agreed.
“Next is Diego Caplan, a skilled duelist who frequently circulates champion duelling circuits. He is a wonderful asset to our cause.” Diego was also looking at Fawley, and did not acknowledge Dumbledore whatsoever. He, too, was a Hufflepuff, but more importantly, he wasn’t an arsehole.
“We also have Penny and Beatrice Haywood with us today,” said Dumbledore. Beatrice Haywood had been yearmates as well as Housemates with Fawley. She was not looking at him, but she was glaring daggers at Dumbledore. Her older sister was holding onto her arm. “Penny is well-equipped with a Potions Mastery, and has undeniable skill in the field. Beatrice has just graduated Hogwarts this past June.”
“Professor,” Younger Haywood said cooly and abruptly, and her sister was glaring at her, “I think you ought to apologize for the manner in which you spoke of Cedric Diggory. Many of us were exceedingly fond of Cedric. He is not the only reason that we are here today. He mattered beyond this fight. He deserves to be spoken of better.”
Dumbledore looked taken aback– so maybe he was just a fool, then– and Lobosca and Diego were nodding.
“I agree,” said Harry, quietly but with steel. Dumbledore almost looked in his direction but then looked away like he’d been burnt. Harry narrowed his eyes.
“My dear girl, I apologize sincerely. I had no intention of reducing Cedric to anything like vigilante propaganda.”
With how accurately he’d hit the crux of the issue, Harry almost couldn’t believe that, and he almost winced at the bluntness of it.
Dumbledore continued on with introductions. “Also with us is Oscar Kneen, currently working at the Cleansweep Broom Company. Beside him is Oliver Wood, who is playing as a reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United, and Lucas Romero, who is working in the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry. They will keep us well-informed of anything they hear in their respective workplaces.” Oliver and Lucas exchanged a loaded glance.
“What’s up with them?” Harry muttered to George.
“Damien Shafiq’s not with us today,” George murmured in return. Oh. And Percy. Both were Lucas and Oliver’s former dormmates.
“Not with us today are Rubeus Hagrid and Aberforth Dumbledore, my brother.” Harry’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, and he almost gaped. Dumbledore had a brother?
“Rubeus is currently travelling with Olympe Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbatons, seeking to make connections with the giants before Voldemort reaches them.”
Okay, now Harry’s jaw dropped. He made eye contact with Hermione and Ron, both of whom looked stunned. Hagrid was gone, negotiating with giants.
“What the fuck,” he heard Fred mutter, and he fervently agreed with the sentiment.
“Aberforth, meanwhile, runs the Hog’s Head Pub in Hogsmeade, and will keep us informed of the motions of his more suspicious clientele.”
What. The fuck. Albus Dumbledore’s brother ran the filthy Hog’s Head Pub. Would wonders never cease?
“Abe is Dumbledore’s brother?” One of the twins whispered to the other. “The bastard never said!”
“Would you?” The other returned.
“Now,” said Dumbledore, drawing Harry’s attention again, “I would like to introduce our school age members. I consider these students to be half-members; though some are of age, they have not yet completed their schooling. I trust them with our information, and ask that they relay back to us anything suspicious they hear within the walls of Hogwarts. They will not, however, be assigned on missions, at least until they graduate from my school.”
Fair enough, Harry supposed, except for the fact that this past June he’d fended off Voldemort and all of his Death Eaters. More than Dedalus Diggle had ever done, that was for sure.
“Among these students are Hufflepuff seventh-year Tamsin Applebee, Gryffindor seventh-years Fred and George Weasley, and Gryffindor fifth-years Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter. We are also joined today by Vikram Thakur, who I am afraid I must ask the hardest things of. My boy, as a seventh-year Slytherin, you will undoubtedly be well positioned as an informant for the Order. Many of your classmates have direct familial relations to known Death Eaters, and some will plan to take the Dark Mark upon their graduation or sooner. I will not ask you to put yourself directly in harm’s way, but I must ask that you not alienate yourself, and that you pass along anything you hear.”
That sounded like a mission to Harry. Either they weren’t members and they didn’t get missions, or they were and they did.
He was perfectly aware of how petulant he was being, but he wasn’t particularly sorry for it. He had not been feeling very friendly towards Dumbledore as of late.
Thakur gave a sharp nod, face entirely blank. Harry noticed him very briefly lock eyes with Older Stretton, though what was communicated, he had no clue.
“Well,” Molly said, standing. “That’s enough of a starting point, I should think. And in the future, we’ll be limiting these meetings to full members, Albus?”
“Oh,” he said, stroking his beard, “we shall do what is reasonable, I think.”
“Transparent,” Harry muttered, and Sirius snorted.
Yeah. Dumbledore was not ingratiating himself to Harry this summer.
***
As most of the Order members were legal adults with their own homes, at first there wasn’t much foot traffic at Grimmauld Place. The more long-term residents were hard at work making the space more livable.
The Weasleys, obviously, were living there, alongside Harry and Sirius. Two days after the initial Order meeting, Catherine and Amos Diggory were introduced to the group. Harry could only be glad that they hadn’t been present for Dumbledore’s less than sensitive comments about their late son.
“Our home is so quiet,” said Catherine. “Everything has been taken from us.”
“We’re going to stay here and fight,” said Amos, and then the room near the top of the stairs was filled by the Diggorys.
After the Diggorys moved in, people stopped by like a dam had broken: Remus was around nine times out of ten, because he wouldn’t leave for the werewolf packs in East Sussex until mid-September. Andromeda Tonks had taken to looking through the Black family heirlooms, searching through the items that might curse someone without Black blood. Ted Tonks would come in at the end of his shifts at Mt. Mungos and crash on the couch in his lurid green Healer’s robes.
Rowan Khanna somehow started up a gambling ring with the house-elf, Kreacher. Fleur Delacour played once and was then banned from doing so ever again lest she bankrupt all other participants. Frequent players were Diego Caplan, Oscar Kneen, Hestia Jones, Felix Rosier, Charlie Weasley, and Jeremy Stretton. Poker was the one thing other than Order meetings that Simon Flume would come to Grimmauld Place for.
Harry tried to play and lost ten galleons to Younger Stretton, who had his older sister leaning over him and hissing in his ear.
Fred and George very much enjoyed poker, and won twenty three galleons from Hestia Jones in one go, scaring her away from gambling for a week and a half. Mundungus Fletcher talked big game but had yet to actually play a single game.
Oliver Wood spoke frequently of starting a game of pick-up Quidditch, although Harry wished he would stop– every time he started again, Harry began to vibrate with the need to be in the air, and was always confronted again with the fact that they couldn’t leave the house.
Lucas Romero once asked Moody if he thought they could use some Polyjuice to go outside and fly, causing Moody to turn to Kingsley Shacklebolt and wonder aloud whether they should be letting people below the age of thirty join the Order.
There was a bit of whispered debate, but eventually Tulip Karasu disillusioned herself, Oliver, Lucas, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Charlie, Older Stretton, and Younger Tonks so they could sneak out of Grimmauld Place.
Tonks and Charlie sniped at each other for the entire three hours that they were out, having once been close friends back at Hogwarts. Oliver still played like a maniac with a gift from the gods, and Stretton had the time of her life making Ron’s face flush with anger again and again. Fred and George had been forcefully delegated to opposite teams; Charlie and Harry had a Seeker’s match that had him shouting out to the dark sky in exhilaration; Tulip was maybe one of the funnest people Harry had ever met.
Ron, playing Keeper for Harry’s team, once made a save while waving his arms and shouting back at Stretton’s needling. He accidentally and miraculously hit the Quaffle back towards Lucas Romero, who caught it and laughed so hard that he dropped it again and nearly fell off of his broom.
It was a wonderful game of five-on-five Quidditch played against a backdrop of stars, and they came back to a furious Molly Weasley, an incensed Mad-Eye Moody, a silently-approving Sirius, and an Oscar Kneen who was only mad that they’d left him behind.
Imogen Stretton muttered that they then would’ve had an odd number of players, prompting a spat that only ended when she stumbled away with antlers and left Oscar sitting beneath Walburga Black’s portrait with leeks sticking out of his ears.
Sirius got a good laugh out of this altercation at both of their expenses, and woke up the next morning with a tentacle as a head. When he’d come stumbling down the stairs looking for someone willing to help him, Harry had turned to Imogen Stretton, who’d been demurely sipping a mug of tea.
“Could Transfiguration possibly be a specialty of yours?”
She had winked. “I do demolitions for a living. It couldn’t possibly be.”
“Of course.”
People were in and out of the house all day, but Molly Weasley only made the long-term residents who were also kids help out with the cleaning. Harry saw Fred stick a doxy in his pocket as they were cleaning out curtains, and so he then shot an Impediment Jinx at one of the pixies that had been set loose from a chest of drawers in the drawing room. Later that day, he’d handed the still-frozen pixie off to Fred, who’d taken it with wide eyes before breaking out in a beaming grin.
Remus was around to help them tackle an old grandfather clock that shot bolts at whoever walked past. Vikram Thakur also decided to help with that one, but he preferred increasingly ridiculous methods of dodging the bolts over actually trying to stop the clock. Talbott Winger came to Grimmauld still in his Auror robes, and got to witness Thakur standing determinedly in front of a very slowly oncoming steel bolt the size of a thumb that George had hit with the Impediment Jinx. Remus had been standing off to the side with his head in his hands, and Thakur had caught the bolt with one hand before throwing it onto the ground in triumph.
George held up two hands and Thakur high-fived him, causing Winger to burst out laughing, which was honestly the most emotion Harry had seen from the man yet.
The twins spent the entire rest of the day trying to get Winger to laugh with little success, only giving up once he’d Disapperated from the front stoop.
Oliver and Lucas, meanwhile, spent much of their time compiling newspaper clippings and tearing pages from books about Dark blood magic from the Black family library. Once, Harry walked in on them arguing over how to phrase a letter, and had gotten them to explain that they were trying to prove to Damien and Percy that Voldemort had in fact returned.
“Ye told us it was a blood ritual that he used to return,” Oliver said. “We’ve been looking for something that could bring a wreath back to a body.”
“And we’ve been collecting evidence from the news cycle that we can attribute to You-Know-Who,” Lucas added, “but that’s slow going, because at the moment he’s keeping himself under the radar. We’ve been trying to write a persuasive letter, but we’re honestly not the best at persuasion and subtlety.”
“What if I can get someone who is persuasive to help you?” Harry asked.
They hesitated, and shared a glance before looking back at him.
“Keep the Weasleys out of it,” Oliver stipulated. “They’re on the outs with Percy for reasons beyond Ye-Know-Who, and I dinnae want to make it worse.”
“Sure.”
So Harry went to talk to Ted Tonks, who was much more approachable than his wife, and through these means got Andromeda Tonks to sit down with Oliver and Lucas and help them write a letter.
“I give you Slytherin subtlety,” he said. “Thank you for helping us, Mrs. Tonks.”
She waved a hand. “Of course. And please call me Andy, or at least Andromeda.”
Harry had grinned, and Oliver and Lucas and ruffled his hair and patted his head, respectively.
Things were still awkward with Ron and Hermione, but now that he was being kept in the loop, he was finding it easier to forgive them.
He spent considerable hours flipping through Defence and Dueling books in the Black library, where Hermione spent the vast majority of her time. They eventually had an awkward conversation in which they both apologized to the other, and really, he and Ron had been fine ever since they’d snuck out together to play Quidditch.
Ginny had spoken to both her dad and Ted Tonks, and had gotten her hands on a plethora of Muggle board and card games. The Diggorys brought over some magical party games, and on slow afternoons the kids shut themselves in a bedroom upstairs for Exploding Snap tournaments or Truth or Dare.
Things were going well with the Order, truly, but there were some things that Harry couldn’t forget. Sirius couldn’t leave the house, and after he’d snuck out for Quidditch, Mad-Eye had very firmly impressed upon Harry that he was also confined to Grimmauld Place. The Weasley family was always tense and unhappy when you caught them by themselves, and no one was willing to mention why.
The Diggorys inhabited Grimmauld Place like cardboard cut-outs of who they might have once been, and no one could blame them. Their international agents and people in the Ministry brought back increasingly grim reports.
Harry had been attacked by Dementors in Surrey only three weeks ago, and his trial was coming soon.
There were good things in camaraderie, but the reason why they needed the Order was weighing heavy on them all.