Disclaimer: It's all JK's.
**
Harry woke lazily the next morning when the rays of the morning sun hit his face. Groaning he reached out to the table by his bed, groping for his glasses without opening his eyes. Suddenly his glasses found his hand independently and startled, he looked up into the face of Hermione. Harry jumped violently.
"Sorry Harry" she said meekly. "I just wanted to bring you some breakfast." She held out two slices of toast in a napkin.
Harry was still breathing heavily. "How long have you been there?" he asked.
"I didn't want to wake you" she apologized.
He blinked rapidly, his heart rate gradually slowing. "No, that's fine" he said. "Just scared me for a minute."
"Harry you should know better!" she scolded. "In no way am I tall enough to do a good Voldemort."
Harry looked at her searchingly, a wry smile starting to turn the corners of his mouth up. "Another joke Hermione?" he laughed.
"I am approaching my limit" she joked " you'd better make the most of it! Dumbledore wants to know whether you wanted to join the meeting?"
"Where's Ron?"
"Where do you think? I didn't want to wake him because Professor Dumbledore says that it would be better if we didn't meet the Order of the Phoenix…which is fine" she said a little snottily, tilting up her chin defiantly. "You had better get dressed."
"Right" said Harry beginning to chew on his toast. He was suddenly very aware that he was only in his thin cotton pyjamas. "Ummm, Hermione?"
"It's alright Harry, I'm going" she grinned mischievously. "I'll see you later. You'll have to tell me and Ron everything."
"Ok" he agreed readily, watching her leave the room. She was wearing the necklace he noticed proudly.
**
Harry walked into Dumbledore's office fifteen minutes later, nervously trying to dampen his hair with tap water. The events of last night were still floating in no specific order around in his head. A lot of what Dumbledore had said was starting to blur slightly which he thought was probably due to the headache.
Once again, when he opened the door, all the portraits were craning to see. Indeed, Harry noticed with some amusement, many of the other portraits had crowded into the frames too. He recognized the Fat Lady wrestling with an extremely elderly man in the portrait above Dumbledore's desk. The Fat Lady won (of course) and the elder wizard sulked off to perch on the arm of his neighbour's chair.
"Good Morning Harry" said Dumbledore. "I trust this morning finds you better?"
"I'm fine thanks Professor."
"Harry, you remember of course Mr Dent and Mr Carraway?"
Harry stepped forward, and because Mr Dent rather regally extended one hand, he awkwardly shook it. The elder man was looking tired, Harry thought. His handshake was firm and swift. Jed Carraway didn't get up from his seat, but leaned backwards on the chair, pushing it onto the two back feet, and waved cheerily at Harry.
"Hi Harry" he enthused. "Hear you've been having a spot of bother?"
Mr Dent glared at the younger man and gestured Harry towards a seat.
"Albus, have you discussed the matter of the prophecy?"
"I have indeed" said Dumbledore. "We discussed the idea yesterday…"
Harry thought 'discussed' was a bit of an exaggeration. He had sat dumbly while Dumbledore had explained.
"…quite rightly, Harry expressed a little scepticism…"
'Hermione' had expressed the scepticism in Harry's recollection.
"…and I assured him that we would work together to get to the bottom of this."
Mr Dent shifted uneasily in his seat. Harry thought that he looked guilty, Dumbledore seemed to think so too.
"Isn't that right Magnus?" he asked.
Harry assumed that he was addressing Mr Dent, who took a deep breath.
"Albus, we have always fought to keep Ministry politics out of the Order, but we are being put under considerable pressure to keep this an internal investigation."
Jed Carraway was looking at the floor.
"I see." Said Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair. "You came here to tell us that you can't tell us anything."
"Albus, I am fighting this as hard as I can" said Mr Dent, his eyes lit with determination. "The Minister has got his head up a Hippogriff's-" he took a deep breath "the Minister is being a fool. He seems to consider Mr Potter a risk to the security of our investigation. If I were to share anything I know I would be fired, and replaced with men far less amenable to your cause." His hands clutched the arms of his chair, and his face grew steadily redder. "I'll do everything in my power" he promised.
Dumbledore nodded curtly.
"If that's all gentlemen…" he said, gesturing to the door.
Jed Carraway got up first, bouncing to his feet. He crossed Dumbledore's desk towards the door and, as he passed Fawkes' perch, the phoenix hissed slightly and turned its noble face away.
As Mr Dent followed his associate towards the door, Harry thought he noticed him slipping something to Dumbledore. At the door, Mr Dent turned and looked Harry in the eyes. "I'm sorry" he said sincerely.
Harry nodded slowly. Typical.
When the room was empty but for the two of them - and the combined artistic endeavours of the entire school - Dumbledore removed a small scroll from his sleeve. He beckoned swiftly to Harry, who pulled his chair closer with an appalling grate.
Unrolling the scroll, Dumbledore read softly and Harry, craning his neck, read with him:
"My dear Albus,
I fear to share this information openly. Neither the Ministry nor, I am sad to report, the Order is secure. Spies observe our every move - it was because of such leaks that my close friend Xavier Bloom was lost to us. Yesterday a report was received from the Muggle Primer Minister that someone matching Xavier's description had been admitted to a Muggle hospital. We rushed to his side but were too late. The Muggle doctors had not seen torture like it before - neither had we.
Before he died, Xavier choked out these words with his last breath; 'Potter…prophecy… knows'. I know in my heart that Voldemort realizes, as we have, that he and the boy make up the prophecy and are thus connected. Whatever information Xavier may have uncovered regarding this situation has been lost. From this tragedy Albus, we learn certain truths. Voldemort knows about the prophecy and it does refer to Harry. Information, at some point, existed about this prophecy that may help our cause and which Voldemort is trying to eradicate. Neither Ministry nor Order can be trusted.
I am truly saddened that I cannot help you more. I will do all I can to ensure that any information we receive is covertly passed to you. I cannot be sure how long I will be able to do so.
Your friend,
Magnus Dent."
Harry's head was reeling. He was connected to Voldemort, his worst enemy. He was tied by inexplicable magics to the man who had murdered his parents. He felt a helpless rage start to burn under his skin, flushing his face. He heard Hermione's voice in his head telling him to take charge of his destiny, and he began to breathe more clearly.
Dumbledore had been watching him intently.
"Are you alright Harry?" he asked.
"Is there anything else you know that you haven't told me Professor?"
"I regret very much leaving it this late to share the details of this prophecy with you Harry. I regret involving a Ministerial agency in the situation even more. Magnus is a very good friend of mine and I have no doubt he will help all he can, but I suspect we are on our own from now on Harry."
Harry didn't think that Dumbledore had answered the question. "Professor, is there something else?"
"I will never lie to you Harry."
Harry didn't think this was the point either and was opening his mouth to say so when the distinctive knock of Hagrid thudded at the door.
"You sent fer me Professor?" he asked, ambling with rolling gait towards the desk.
"Hagrid, the time has come. I need you to fetch Sirius, Remus and everyone they have managed to rally to our cause. Send owls to the Giants and ask them to make good on their promises. The front line of this war will be fought, as I feared, on the very grounds of Hogwarts. Harry has seen that Voldemort is turning his dark power toward our school. We cannot let that happen."
Hagrid looked bewildered and very frightened. "But, how, who, when…?"
"Please do as I ask" stated Dumbledore calmly.
A second thud at the door and this time a figure entered without waiting for permission. Half of his head was smoking and a few stray tendrils still frazzled with the residuals sparks of magical fire. His robes were filthy and torn, streaked with grass stains, mud and blood. His left eye was swollen and dripping with blood from a gash across his forehead. He staggered in with a limp.
"They're coming" said Severus Snape.
**
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