Brave New World

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Chapter Sixteen



Twilight suited him.



Highlighted by the burnished orange light that illuminated the school grounds and shimmered along the surface of the lake, Blaise Zabini looked as mysterious and fascinating as the first time Harry had truly looked at him for the first time on the train to Hogwarts.



He had left the castle after his meeting with Gardip and Colfax ended, needing to make sense of the enormous changes he would be facing in the future. Neville’s words resounded with harsh truth, if he had been prepared, Harry would not be feeling so overwhelmed. It was fortunate his father had placed his trust in an honest man, for Colfax could have been robbing him blind and stripping his estate of every galleon and Harry wouldn’t have known. The goblin watch and the Wizarding oath in place couldn’t diminish Colfax’s integrity.



Thankfully, Harry had time. Time to travel to Griffin’s Keep to see the home his family had held for many centuries. Time to visit Deckmoor and greet the people who lived, worked and thrived there. Time to take his rightful place as Lord. Colfax believed with careful guidance he would be ready to assume control of the estate by the time he needed to take his seat in the Wizengamot; by his twenty-first birthday.



It was a strong incentive to destroy Voldemort and end this war as quickly as possible.



So he needed to set aside his anger, the bitter tang of betrayal in his mouth, and concentrate on the future and how he wanted to shape it. For the first time, he actually had a future to look forward to and that soothed most of his hurt.



There was almost an hour before he needed to head back to the dorm to change so he would be ready to leave for Grimmauld Place and the Order meeting. At first he thought to look through the things Gardip had brought him from one of the Potter vaults that his parents had set aside for him but finding privacy this time of day would be impossible. The Room of Requirement was off limits because he hadn’t been prepared to face his memories of Blaise. He would look through them later that night after the others were asleep.



Yet fate was not without purpose, Harry thought with a wry grin. As much as he wanted to avoid Blaise, just the sight of him standing in one of Harry’s favorite places to think was a sign that perhaps he was ready to confront his feelings after all. If just the sight of the Slytherin could both excite and terrify him all in the same breath, it was time to stop running. He had never turned from a challenge before, even when it would have been in his best interests to do so. No, it was probably the most essential part of his nature, that desire to face confrontation. To fight through until the bitter end.



“Hello Harry.”



The warm greeting inspired a gently growing fire to spark in the depths of his stomach. He hadn’t exactly been quiet but Harry had the feeling Blaise would have known he was approaching regardless. When Blaise glanced back over his shoulder, Harry paused in his steps. The man’s dark mocha gaze was assessing, slowly and seductively traveling the length of him. Harry was glad he hadn’t changed from the robes he had borrowed from Neville. As something intense flared through those eyes, he thought Blaise approved of Lord Harrigan James Potter who had stepped from the shadows and into his birthright this afternoon.



“Hello,” he offered in return, feeling the trepidation of facing Blaise falling away and nerves of a different sort coming to life. He certainly had noticed the appeal of Blaise Zabini before but perhaps in a more off hand way. The man was handsome, there was no doubt in Harry’s mind about that and had he thought twice about it, Harry might have realized his fascination for what it in fact was. Attraction.



Even now Harry was exceedingly aware of him. The way Blaise stood there, tall, handsome with a beautifully proportioned body that Harry admired in a way he was sure he didn’t consider his other friends. Only in Blaise had Harry ever noted the way the rich outlines of his shoulders strained against the fabric of the maroon v-neck jumper he wore. Or how whenever those dark eyes focused on him, they were kindled with a passion Harry had never had experienced before.



The last time they were alone together, Harry was angry with his friends. In fact, on almost every occasion he found himself with Blaise, Harry was upset over something and Blaise would slowly ease him away from the negative emotions. It was a very one-sided acquaintance, and given Blaise’s declaration of his feelings, Harry had to wonder what Blaise found appealing in his ever angst-driven presence.



“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” For once he would resist the urge to spill his troubles and perhaps see if there was more to his feelings than mere attraction.



“No, please, join me.”



Blaise held out a hand, opening his personal space in invitation and Harry accepted. They were close enough their shoulders occasionally brushed together. Close enough that Blaise could have slipped an arm around him the same way he had that night in the Room of Requirement. The thought made his heart thud, sending a rush of heat to his face that he hoped the gradually darkening shadows around them concealed.



“I’m sorry I ran away the other day,” he apologized.



Harry expected many things, disgust at his cowardice, annoyance, but certainly not Blaise’s deep chuckle of amusement. At least not humor inwardly directed.



“I’m just grateful you didn’t hex me.”



“Why would I do that?”



“I did practically assault you, Harry. I’m the one who should be apologizing. You should know I don’t make a practice of grabbing men and kissing them whenever the urge strikes me.”



“No. You don’t seem like the type.” They looked each other and smiled in earnest. “I just don’t understand why.”



“Why?”



“Why you like me, I mean. I’m guessing you like me, as you’ve said you don’t go around arbitrarily kissing people. So, I’m just saying I don’t really understand why you like me. We barely know each other with me being in Gryffindor and you belonging to Slytherin, there haven’t been many opportunities for us to spend time together. Other than the few we have already.”



“Do you always ramble when you’re nervous?”



Harry tried to sneer at Blaise’s amusement at his expense but that only made the arresting smile he wore broaden. “I’m being serious,” he pointed out.



“Alright,” Blaise relented, “You want to know why I’m attracted to you. That is what you’re asking me right?”



“Yes.”



“And you stand here with me looking as you are and you really have to ask me that question?”



Harry glanced down at his dress robes, and then shook his head. “See, this isn’t me. I borrowed these robes from a friend; I don’t usually dress like this. Or like I was at Hermione’s party when you kissed me.”



“You think my feelings are based how you look?”



“Well aren’t they? They can’t be based on how well we know each other because you barely know me.”



Dark eyebrows slanted in a frown, as Blaise pinned him with a sharp gaze. “A true Slytherin prides himself in two qualities, cunning and ambition. In order to be cunning, you must be able to collect information without others knowing you’re doing so. Not many here at Hogwarts can say they know much about me as I prefer to remain in the shadows and observe. Daphne and Tracey would tell you I’m an expert in collecting information.”



“But what does-”



“Lord Harrigan James Potter. Harry to his friends. I won’t bore you with the things anyone can collect from a book or newspaper. With rumor or innuendo. You love to fly. Most people wouldn’t realize how important that information is. They would probably relate it to quidditch and you being the youngest seeker in a century.”



“I like playing quidditch,” Harry pointed out.



“Yes, you do. But you love to fly. I see it whenever you’re on a broom. Those first few moments when you’re in the sky and almost oblivious to everything going on around you except for you and flying. You seem almost annoyed when it’s time to focus on the game. Then you spot the snitch and it turns into another type of enjoyment. It becomes all determination and drive when you chase the snitch, riding air currents as if it was you flying and not the broom and quidditch becomes second to the challenge.”



What could he say to that? It was exactly how he felt about flying but he never thought anyone else had noticed. Not even Ron or Hermione had and they were his best friends.



“You’re a leader.”



“That’s where you’re wrong,” Harry shook his head in denial.



“You’re not a leader because you want to be.” Blaise raised a hand, his finger gently traced the line of his cheekbone and jaw, before falling back to his side as if he had needed to touch him and couldn’t resist the temptation.



“You’re a leader because you were born to be. That’s what will make you great. You don’t have to prove anything about yourself and you don’t try. In fact, you prefer to remain out of the public eye but you aren’t afraid to take a stand. Example, last year with Umbridge in Defense Against the Dark Arts. When the Ministry, the Daily Prophet and everyone was attacking you, calling you an attention seeking liar, you stood your ground despite the consequences.”



“Most people would call that stubborn stupidity.” Harry mumbled, not wanting to think about fifth year because the end had resulted in his godfather’s death.



“And your little club?” Blaise leaned back, tilting his head in inquiry.



“Was Hermione’s idea,” Harry insisted. The DA wasn’t much of a secret anymore after Umbridge caught them. Malfoy would have enjoyed telling all of Slytherin as he crowed about the inquisitorial squad’s part in bringing down Harry Potter. “I never would have thought of starting the DA. She was the one who insisted I do it because of all the work I put in during fourth year learning spells because of the Tri-Wizard tournament.”



“But once you agreed, the others followed you. Listened. That’s what makes a good leader Harry. A leader is one who can inspire loyalty and respect.”



“And I almost got my friends killed.” He had to shift away, the memories of the Department of Mysteries were still difficult to face.



“You’re attractive,” Blaise pointed out bluntly, catching his arm and forcing him to accept the declaration.



“This,” the Slytherin waved to Harry’s robes and his new appearance, “This is merely the culmination of who you truly are. Lean and graceful when you’re in the air, sinewy and almost feral like a predator when threatened. Vital. Powerful. With captivating eyes and a stunning face. Even when you hid behind those taped glasses and trousers that didn’t fit with jumpers better off in a rubbish bin and hair in need of a trim, you couldn’t hide it.”



Blaise took a step closer, his nearness almost overwhelming. His scent, hints of patchouli and amber, enveloped his senses and Harry could hear his heart hammering in his ears, feel his mouth dry. He moved forward as well, impelled by the strength of his own attraction until he could almost feel their magic shifting, reaching for the other. Blaise leaned down slightly so that Harry could do nothing but drown in his fathomless eyes.



“You can’t hide from me, Harrigan.”



Their mouths brushed once, then again, and had his magic not burst free in a wild whirlwind encircling them, the kiss might have deepened. It was enough to bring back his awareness of where they were, in front of the lake were anyone could have come upon them. Gryffindor or Slytherin. And Harry wasn’t ready for anyone to know what was unfolding between him and Blaise. He wanted to figure this attraction out for himself before others had the opportunity to voice their opinions.



“Sorry.” Turned his head away, struggling to bring his magic back under control. He would have to speak with Septima and Leo about this. It wasn’t the first time his magic had manifested in the form of a violent wind and he hadn’t known this was possible.



Blaise raised his arm, a self mocking smile curving his lips, as he revealed a hand alight with a red glow. “Unnecessary.”



“Is that?” He stared at the dancing flame that didn’t injure Blaise’s fingers.



“Fire? Yes it is.” Rather than extinguish, the flames seemed to merely melt back down under Blaise’s skin.



“How on-” he halted his next words, though he desperately wanted to know how Blaise was capable of producing a corporal flame without harming himself. He had no right to ask such an intimate question. At least not yet, anyway. “I forgot what I was asking you.”



“You wanted to know why I kissed you and I explained it.”



“I guess you did,” Harry agreed, drawing long deep breaths into his lungs so he could calm down.



“My question for you is whether or not you’re attracted to me as well and if so, what do you want to happen next?”



He bit his lower lip that still tingled from the contact with Blaise’s mouth. “Yes,” he admitted, “I guess I am. I’ve never been attracted to another male before. There was Cho and that ended horribly and no one else after that. I always thought I liked girls.”



“Just because you’re attracted to me, Harry, doesn’t mean you can’t still like girls as well.”



“Really?” His eyes widened briefly before he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course it does Harry,” he muttered to himself. He might not have much experience with relationships, or in social interaction with his peers but it didn’t mean he was totally ignorant. “What do you want to happen next? It’s going to be difficult for us to see each other and I’m not sure I’m ready for everyone to know.”



“Rambling again,” Blaise cut him off with a fingertip to his lips. “I understand what you’re trying to say though and you’re probably right. Though Daphne and Tracey wouldn’t have any objections, I don’t think your lions would feel the same about the big bad snake luring their leader to wickedness.”



“We were supposed to meet to copy the book but I got a month of detentions.”



“And I appreciate you copying the book for me.” Blaise nodded in acknowledgement.



“It was the least I could do since I was the one who ruined our arrangement. The notes you gave me were a big help,” Harry returned. “We could try again, if you’re not too averse to sneaking out after curfew. We could meet in the Room of Requirement Friday nights at midnight.”



“Are you making a date with me Harry?” The question brought on a bout of sputtering words that inspired a deep warm and rich laugh from Blaise.



“I just thought we could use the time to get to know each other better, though you seem to know a lot more about me than I do about you. It seems like every time we meet we end up talking about me more than you. That’s not exactly fair.”



“Fine. Friday at midnight. You can tell me why you’re attracted to me and why you’ve been so honest with me. I’ll divulge a few secrets of my own and we’ll see where our attraction takes us.”





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Not much had changed about the Black manor, Harry realized as he stepped from the fireplace and moved aside to make way for Dumbledore to come through. It looked like someone had done more cleaning, the gleaming wood floors a marked contradiction to the morose atmosphere that hung over the house like a grim storm cloud. A colorful afghan was tossed over the side of the couch and new deep burgundy drapes hung from the windows.



He was careful not to make much noise, remembering the picture of Sirius’ mother and the vitriol she spit when disturbed.



Dumbledore stepped through with more grace than Harry could ever accomplish as Harry was acknowledging the changes to his godfather’s home. Remus’ home, Harry amended. Dumbledore had explained how Sirius had left the manor to Dumbledore with the stipulation that Remus be granted the right to live there for as long as he chose. It was the only was to get around the werewolf laws.



Harry was glad he wasn’t given the property. The last thing Harry wanted was to own the place that had been a second prison to Sirius. Perhaps Remus could find a way to around those memories after the war but Remus had allowed the Order to continue using the property as a base of operations for the time being.



“Come along, Harry. We shall see if the others are about.”



The Headmaster wasn’t pleased with Harry, especially with the way he had been excluded from the meeting with the Gringotts representative. It made for a tension between the two that Harry wasn’t accustomed to but he wasn’t about to allow Dumbledore to guilt trip him into apologizing.



As they approached the kitchen, Harry caught the aroma of cooking food and the low tones of conversation. There was still over an hour remaining before the start of the Order meeting a seven, so the few people gathered around the long table were expected. Bill sat next to Fleur with an arm around her shoulders. He had learned from Ron the two were seriously dating and he could tell from the way they interacted, they cared very deeply for each other. Bill’s fingers would trail lightly across her shoulder before moving to play with strands of her hair. While Fleur would lean into his caresses, a smile making her beauty less untouchable.



The two were speaking with Remus whose fingers were threaded together with Tonks’ on top of the table. Definitely a new development there, unless Harry had mistaken the intimacy. Mr. Weasley was reading the daily prophet but seemed to be listening to the conversation as well.



“Harry! What are you doing here?”



Before he could comment, Mrs. Weasley had already crossed the room from the stove where she had been preparing dinner and pulled him into a lung cracking embrace. “Look at you,” she pulled back scanning him with a mother’s eye from head to toe. “So grown up,” she conceded with a smile. “We missed you this summer at the Burrow. How are you doing?”



“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley.”



“That’s good dear.” The sympathy he didn’t want to address was there in her concerned gaze but she seemed to understand he wasn’t going to speak of Sirius. Instead she gave his cheek a gentle pat before returning to her steaming pots. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re not at Hogwarts, I’m positive that you’re missing supper. You’re still a growing boy and shouldn’t be missing meals.”



“I invited Harry if you will recall,” Dumbledore finally spoke up. “He’ll be joining us tonight and I thought perhaps he would enjoy one of your lovely meals before hand, Molly.”



Her face pulled into an affronted frown, “Albus, you can’t be serious. He’s just a child! He has no business attending an Order meeting!”



It was the last thing he wanted to hear. As much as he could appreciate Mrs. Weasley’s concern, he wasn’t a child any longer. He didn’t need to be protected. While he might not be ready to face Voldemort, hiding away at Hogwarts and pretending that he didn’t play a pivotal role in the War would be to act the child she claimed him to be.



“That’s enough, Molly,” Mr. Weasley set the paper he had been reading down on the table. “Albus told us Harry would be attending days ago, your concerns were noted then.”



Mrs. Weasley did indeed look as though they had been through this argument before if the way she relented to her husband was any measure. “I don’t like it. This war shouldn’t be fought by children.”



‘Tell that to Voldemort,’ Harry snorted to himself.



“Wotcher, Harry!”



Tonks’ bright greeting rode over the underlying tension Mrs. Weasley’s comments had created. Though shadows of fatigue circled her eyes, she still seemed to almost glow with happiness. Harry hoped that joy was shared by the man whose hand she was holding.



“Tonks,” he nodded in greeting. “Remus. Bill. Fleur, Mr. Weasley. It’s good to see you all.”



Remus answered with an easy smile, “Hello Harry.” The welcome was echoed by the others in the room as well. His clothes weren’t as worn as usual, telling Harry he had probably received a small monetary endowment from Sirius’ will. The man had stubborn pride but if he was in a relationship with Tonks, he would want to look his best for her. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”



“Of course he will,” Mrs. Weasley spoke up to answer in his stead. “Look at him, so thin. A good meal is exactly what he needs.”



“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I always enjoy your dinners.” He would have to be careful not to overindulge in the heavy meal he knew she would make.



“You’re looking well Harry,” Fleur told him, bowing her head slightly in acknowledgement. Though still heavily accented, her English was getting better. “Very handsome, my Lord.”



Harry had discarded the robe, deciding to remain in the waistcoat and tie rather than change for the evening. He didn’t want to highlight the fact that he was still a Hogwarts student and not quite of age to the other Order members. He wanted to present the image of a strong wizard who belonged at the meeting not a child who was being indulged by the Headmaster.



“There were rumors going around Gringotts that the Potter Lord requested a meeting. The goblins were very excited not that you could tell unless you knew where to look,” Bill explained. “I haven’t seen that much activity in the Inheritance Department in all the time I’ve worked there.”



Harry lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug, neither confirming nor denying, and he definitely had no intentions of divulging what went on during the meeting. Given the Potter ring that now rested on his finger, Bill had a pretty good idea of what had gone on during his alleged meeting. Dumbledore certainly hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the diamond and mythril ring that was embossed with the Potter coat of arms.



He joined the others at the table, just in time, as Mrs. Weasley had cast the spell to set the dishes and flatware. When the large platters of food sat before them, he had to question whether or not he would risk the evening blessing with everyone, including Dumbledore, at the table with him. The Headmaster had probably seen him but had yet to speak with him about the small ritual. The others had no idea he had begun to practice the old ways.



It wasn’t that he was afraid of what they would think, he just didn’t know if he was ready for even more upheaval in his life after such a long revealing day. In the end, he decided from now on that he couldn’t allow others opinions to influence his life to such a point where he began to hide behind a mask. He wasn’t ashamed to have discovered the old ways. He felt more connected to his magic now than he ever had.



In the end it wasn’t the surprise on the Weasley’s faces that shocked him, judging from Ron and Ginny’s reaction, he had expected that. It was seeing Fleur and Tonks performing the same blessing that had brought such a reaction. Fleur gave him a smug smile before cutting a glance to Bill who looked like he didn’t know what to think.



Tonks was much less circumspect with her grin of approval. Though her mother had been disinherited, Andromeda Tonks was still born a Black and it had been a good guess that the old ways were still observed in the Tonks household. Remus had a small cautious smile, before he nodded and began eating. Harry didn’t know his feelings concerning the old ways but he obviously didn’t judge others who practiced the traditions.



“Where on earth did you get such behavior, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley’s hand was gripped by her husband to keep her from rising from her seat. Though he was restraining his wife, his face was stamped with clear disapproval as well. “Albus, is this being taught at Hogwarts now, these disgusting pureblood ways that should have been abolished long ago?”



Fleur and Tonks looked resigned as if they had heard this argument before. Judging from Fleur’s expression, she had been hit the hardest with Mrs. Weasley’s harsh words, given her relationship with Bill. Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t have dared insult Tonks’ mother and Tonks was capable of giving as good as she got in any disagreement she might have.



“Mrs. Weasley, I don’t think,” he tried to explain but she ran roughshod all over any words he might have spoken.



“Harry, your parents would be ashamed of you for getting involved with such nonsense.”



Whatever else she might have said was ignored as he removed his napkin from his lap and pushed away from the table to stand. “Mrs. Weasley.” She continued on with her tirade disregarding his protests and his growing ire, going on with how disappointed his poor mother would feel, as he was insulting her blood with such iniquitous behavior.



“MRS. WEASLEY!” He slammed his fist down on the table hard enough to make it quake despite the weight of the food on it. “IF YOU’RE QUITE DONE!”



“Well I never,” she began but was silenced when his magic chose to respond by shaking the entire room.



“You have no idea what my parents would think of me, Mrs. Weasley, so how dare you use them in such a manner. How dare you. My parents loved me enough to die for me, so I don’t think my choosing to observe an evening blessing before my meal would have altered their love for me,” his voice simmered with barely checked fury.



“Your family has been nothing but kind and generous to me, Mrs. Weasley and for that I am grateful, truly. I respect that you don’t follow the old ways but you do not get to use my parents as a weapon against me or to make me fall in line with your beliefs.”



Harry moved to push his chair back underneath the table, swallowing back a surge of anger so large it made him physically ill. “I would suggest to you ma’am, that you don’t try it again. Now please excuse me.”





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“Let me get this straight.”



Tracey Davis looked at her long time friend Blaise Zabini who was happy and wondered if the world was somehow coming to an end. Given the Dark Lord and the coming War, it wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion to draw.



No, it wasn’t Blaise’s happiness that had her pondering Armageddon. It was the small smile that hadn’t left his face during the entire dinner hour. Not that Blaise didn’t smile, for he had one of the most gorgeous she had ever seen. She had ever seen. Not the entire of Hogwarts. For the first time ever, Blaise wasn’t wearing a proper Slytherin mask. Granted, anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t truly be able to tell the difference. Even happiness didn’t lend to such vulnerability for a Slytherin. But Tracey was not only a member of his Coven but one of his best friends those standards didn’t hold true for her.



“You and the new Lord have an assignation at the end of the week? And how did this come about?”



Even Daphne was speechless at the change in their best friend and that was saying something. Nothing shocked Daphne. Daphne was the one who figured out Blaise was interested in Harry. Neither of them thought the Gryffindor would return those affections. At most they hoped for a new member of their Coven, at worst, friendship.



Tracey would have wagered a thousand galleons that Ginny Weasley had been merely biding her time before she sank her claws into Harry, taking him off the market before he had a chance to step into the relationship arena. Blaise pulling off a coup like this was the surprise of the school year.



“I’m happy for you,” she murmured, clasping Daphne’s hand tightly with her own. It was the only affection the two dared express so openly. By now everyone was so accustomed to the two holding hands, no one would have suspected the two had been lovers since the end of fifth year.



She wanted Blaise to have the loving relationships the two shared. He deserved it, even if it was bound to cause tsunami like waves of controversy when the relationship became known.



“I have you two ladies to thank for it, I believe.” They were at the far end of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall and though Blaise had drawn a bit of attention within the Slytherin common rooms, no one would ever dare express such and their conversation went relatively unmarked upon as usual.



Before Tracey could comment, the doors of the Great Hall were tossed open to slam against the wall drawing the attention of everyone at the evening meal. No one dare speak as they all waited for the entrance of the one who had caused the disturbance.



Their curiosity was satisfied seconds later when the stranger strode through the doorway. Tracey swallowed back a sigh of appreciation at the man making his way toward the front table. It was echoed by many a student throughout the all.



She was instantly reminded of a Celtic warrior of old. His indigo robes couldn’t hide the fact that he was a dark figure of a man. Well over six feet, he was big and powerful with wild Irish beauty. Raven hair, cerulean eyes and rakishly handsome. Despite the graying hair that streaked his temple and through his closely cut beard, this man was dangerous and she didn’t need to feel the magic sparking around him to know it.



Professor McGonagall rose from her seat, along with the other Hogwarts Professors to greet the interloper with her wand drawn but resting as a warning at her side. “Excuse me, sir.” She spoke in a strong authoritative voice all of her students recognized. “What is the meaning of your presence here this evening?”



“Where is he? Where is Maeve’s boy?”



“Forgive me, sir, but you still haven’t answered my question. Who are you and what is the reason behind this intrusion?”



“I offer my apologies, madam.” The man bowed low in an offer of gentlemanly charm. Several of the younger Professors couldn’t resist a smile of pleasure. The Deputy Headmistress was having none of it. “I am sorry for the interruption of your evening meal but I was unavoidably delayed for my meeting this afternoon here at Hogwarts. Please allow me to introduce myself; I am Lord Regan Niallan Roarke of the Ancient and Noble House of Roarke.”



He offered a smile then and Tracey could swear she had seen the likes of it before. “I am looking for my great-nephew, Harrigan. Lord Harrigan James Potter.”





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The Order meeting was an exercise in terror. If they were always this loud and disorganized it was a wonder how they stopped any of Voldemort and his Death Eaters attacks. The meeting was held in an old ballroom so it could comfortably seat the more than sixty Order members. Hestia Jones was evidently tasked with the attendance roster, and after confirming the other thirty-five members who were either on assignment or unable to attend Dumbledore called the meeting to order.



Harry received a mixed reception before being allowed to take a seat. From there on things seemed to go wrong with Mrs. Weasley leading the campaign for his removal from the meeting. She seemed determined to mother him into submission, moving from affection to outright manipulation when she realized she wouldn’t be getting her way.



The other members already wary of his presence were divided in whom to follow. Remus who had quietly spoken up for his right to attend or Molly who was such a force of nature it was difficult to revolt against her opinions. Septima and Leo had taken his side, both sitting on either side of him in support but they were new members and any influence they might have had was quickly overridden by Mrs. Weasley.



Moody was all for his presence, demanding to know what Albus was doing to train the boy to meet his destiny but everyone seemed to mark him off as too crazy to know what was proper. Dumbledore simply sat back and watched the show unfold, and Harry had to wonder if this had been in his plans all along.



It was a sad day when he sat in agreement with Snape but the disgust on the potion masters face only seemed to mirror his own feelings.



A small humorless smile spread across his face catching Septima’s attention. She nudged him gently, mouthing, ‘What?’



He merely shrugged and said aloud, “I’m sure Voldemort doesn’t have to sit through such idiocy. He simply Crucios anyone who dares disrupt his meetings. Shame we’re the good guys, that’s starting to seem like a sound plan.”



His offhand comment silenced all arguments completely.



“Quite, Potter,” Snape grunted from his chair across the room. “Our little Dark Lord in the making if we’re to believe the things Mrs. Weasley is saying.”



“That’s enough, Severus,” Dumbledore spoke with mild disapproval. “If we’re all finished with the deliberations regarding Mr. Potter’s presence, I believe we have important things to discuss. Perhaps we can start with your report, Severus.”



“Are you certain it’s safe for the boy to hear this? My position could be compromised by Potter’s complete inability to shield his mind from the Dark Lord.”



‘Well, there went Snape’s understanding.’ Harry rolled his eyes in abhorrence. Septima responded on his behalf in righteous anger. “Are you suggesting that I am incompetent, Severus? I don’t recall your double masteries in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. I thought you merely liked tinkering around with your precious flobberworms.”



“You’ve made your point, Septima,” the man growled and Harry gawked in shock. Snape backed down? Snape backed down? It was obvious from his annoyed expression that he held some respect for her knowledge and ability.



“The Dark Lord is planning several attacks now that he has returned to full health. I would not be surprised to find Hogsmeade weekend threatened. He also intends to perform a ritual the night of Samhain. I am not privy to the details yet, as he has been keeping his intentions close and only revealing them to those involved.”



“We should cancel the Hogsmeade visit,” Professor McGonagall suggested, always thinking of the students safety. When she had arrived at the meeting, she had rushed over to Dumbledore to whisper something to him, all the while staring pointedly in his direction. He could only wonder what had happened at school during his absence.



“We can’t,” Kingsley reasoned. “We have no definite plans and any strong reaction on our part could reveal Severus’ role as spy for the Order. Things have to go on as usual.”



“But the children,” Molly protested.



“With proper protections, the children should be fine,” Remus assured, calmly. “Kingsley is correct, we can’t show our hand too early. The children of Death Eaters would immediately write home to inform their parents of any unusual actions should Professor Dumbledore cancel the weekend.”



“Not if he doesn’t do so until the last moment, so the students didn’t have the opportunity to inform their parents.” Arthur spoke up falling in line with his wife’s protests. As the father of two Hogwarts students it was understandable he would want to keep them safe.



“Perhaps if we allowed you-know-who to find out Potter won’t be allowed to leave Hogwarts on the visit?”



“He would definitely attack then, making sure to cut down every student he knows has a connection to me,” Harry pointed out. Did these people not understand how Voldemort reasoned? They kept speaking of the wizard as if he were capable of rational thought, when he was both evil and insane.



“The best you can do is increase the guard and make sure the older students keep an eye on the younger years. If Voldemort is determined to slaughter the village, my absence will only serve as an inducement. We should be worried about what kind of ritual Voldemort could be performing and why he chose Samhain.”



“And why should we listen to anything Potter has to say,” a loud voice he didn’t recognize countered from in the back of the room. “He’s just a boy. A child. he has no idea how to fight a war. He shouldn’t even be here in the first place.”



Things deteriorated again from there.