Promises Unbroken

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Four: The Order of the Phoenix

The students were safely in bed, and any sane professor had already quickly followed their example. It was getting on midnight, now, and all had to be up early to distribute schedules or to prepare for class. A few, however, remained awake, sitting around a table in the now warded staff room. A complex spell protected them; if anyone had looked inside, they would simply have seen an empty and dimly lit room, not the figures of seven figures seated at the ancient oak table.

At its head was one who anyone would recognize; in fact, he seemed completely at home at Hogwarts. Many would have thought that he belonged there, and in his heart, the old man would have agreed. But other duties had called him years before, pulling him away from the school that he loved so much. But the others at the table would have willingly agreed that the castle was somehow different without him; with him, Hogwarts seemed stronger and more complete. Thus, there was more than one reason why the man in midnight blue robes sat at the head of the table. His work might have been elsewhere, but Albus Dumbledore would always call Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry home.

To his left was Remus Lupin, whom some would have placed at the table's head; however, Remus, headmaster or not, would never have dreamed of usurping that position. He was a powerful wizard in his own right, of course, fiercely intelligent and capable of putting almost anyone at their ease, but Remus would always bow to Dumbledore's judgment. They all would, of course, but for him it was different. He owed Dumbledore so much: first, when the newly appointed headmaster had allowed a child werewolf to attend Hogwarts, and later, when that same headmaster had invited him to teach at the school. When Dumbledore had moved on, it was Remus he'd nominated to take his place, werewolf or not--and Remus was eternally grateful for that. Over his years at Hogwarts, teaching two different subjects and dabbling in a third, he had discovered a genuine love for teaching. That love, however, transferred into a deep and resonating hatred for anyone who would ever think of harming his students.

Next to Lupin was James Potter, the world-famous Auror--and one of Remus' best friends. The fact that James was now the head of the Auror Division didn't let anything stand in between them any more than Remus' condition ever had; although both had separate lives now, and didn't get to see one another nearly as often as they wanted, they were every bit as close as they had been during their Hogwarts days. Tragedy, they had found, could do that. Smiling slightly, Remus glanced at his friend. James was staring blankly at the table, drumming his fingers lightly against the wood. Undoubtedly, James was mentally reviewing a list of suspected Death Eaters, or trying to figure out who Voldemort's next target would be--James looked far older than he had any right to be, now; years of losing friends and fighting the worst Voldemort had to offer had robbed him of his carefree and Quidditch-obsessing youth. Now he was an Auror, serious and deadly, yet still immensely capable of love.

The object of his love sat to James' left; Lily Evans Potter, her name was, and her innocent beauty belied the powerful magic she was capable of. Although not an Auror like her husband (caring and hiding Harry for all those years had made that all but impossible), Lily was no less integral to the fight against Voldemort because of that. Her strengths laid in charms, and while she was officially Dumbledore's "assistant," her real duties were rooted in the discovery of Death Eater traps and spies. Lily had an uncanny ability to "see" through Polyjuice Potion; somehow, she just knew when someone wasn't right. Wards that she created were practically unbreakable, but she was always able to find the kink in someone else's armor and destroy their spells through quiet and perfect infiltration. Most people took Lily for nothing more than a pretty face, the trophy wife of the famous James Potter. Remus, however, knew better, as should have anyone who attended Hogwarts during their seventh year. That year, the Head Boy and Girl had battled incessantly for the top grades, both fiercely competitive and madly in love. In the end, though, they'd married without counting points and very nearly lived happily ever after.

The foot of the table was empty, for both convenience and symbolism. Years ago, they'd lost one of their own, one who would have now sat with them in the Inner Circle of the Order of the Phoenix. But that was no more, and Remus had promised himself that he'd not think of that any longer. It hurt too much.

Across from Lily was the steely-eyed Arabella Figg. Her hair and eyes were both the color of gray flint, and her personality was just as hard. Years of working against Voldemort had made her the Head of Magical Law Enforcement; those same years had not made her nice. While Remus had nothing but respect for the older woman, he knew that he'd never love her in the way James Potter, her protégée, did. She'd been James' Mentor in the Aurors, he knew, so Arabella held a special place in his friend's heart and always would, despite her stern attitude and her inability to forgive errors. On a professional level, she was as demanding as they came, which Remus supposed was a strength in her field as she struggled to keep the light side ahead in their deadly game of chess. Wizard's chess was more brutal than its Muggle counterpart, and this game was no different--except for the fact that the eventual loser wouldn't be doing any walking away when it was over.

To Arabella's left was Mundungus Fletcher, another former Auror. Dung, however, was on an indefinite leave of absence from the DMLE. Two years before, he'd been captured by Voldemort himself, and had spent three hellish weeks being tortured for information before chance, combined with information from one of their spies, had allowed James and Arabella to whisk him out from under Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic nose. Since his recovery, he'd been teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts, and while Remus could not have asked for a better teacher, there were times when he wished that he could convince Dung to take the Dark Arts job. Unfortunately, the onetime Auror was still suffering from the effects of his experience, and wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Dark Arts. That didn't make him any less of an integral member of the Order of the Phoenix, of course, and nor did it lessen the regard he had for the three people who had saved his life--especially to the spy who had risked everything to do it.

That spy sat on his left; the perpetual Severus Snape, the longest lasting spy that the Order had ever had. For over eleven years, Snape had been playing the double-agent role, somehow skirting the line between light and dark well enough to stay alive. Remus had never asked his Deputy Headmaster why he had turned away from the Dark Lord; he respected Snape far too much to pressure him. Years of working together had cooled their hatred; it wouldn't even be a stretch to call them friends, now. Throughout the last decade, even James and Severus had come to an informal truce--in private, at least; in public, it was still known that the two loathed one another. Time and maturity (plus some incessant wheedling from Remus and Lily) had cured even that old grudge, and while they'd never love each other, Remus knew that James and Severus at least shared mutual respect. They were both strong and dedicated men, doing all they could to arrest the fall of Darkness, and that was enough.

For anyone at that table, it had to be. His gaze having traveled fill circle, Remus looked again at Dumbledore, and waited for the Minister of Magic to speak. It did not take long.

"Thank you all for being here," Dumbledore said quietly. He seemed tired, Remus noticed; although he'd always been old, the great wizard had always seemed ageless. Now, though, as the very center and soul of the fight against Voldemort, Dumbledore seemed to be strained. "I know that two of you have classes to teach in the morning, so I'll try to make this short."

Their group was the few, the elite, the ones who knew it all. Betrayal from amongst their ranks would have destroyed the Order, they all knew, which was why there were only seven people in that room. There were others they trusted, and loved, even; and many more witches and wizards were members of the Order of the Phoenix, but the seven of them were at the center. They'd all been there for years--Mundungus Fletcher was the newest of their number, replacing his predecessor in the Transfiguration classroom, Minerva McGonagall, who had died long before he'd come to Hogwarts. There once had been eight in the Inner Circle, and they had once been the most mismatched and unexpected group that Albus Dumbledore could have created. But he'd shown remarkable foresight when choosing his companions, and it had never failed him. Those who that had died had carried their secrets to the grave. So would any others if the choice came upon them.

"Fortunately, this meeting is simply routine," Dumbledore continued with a slightly bitter smile. "There have been no new disasters since Voldemort's attack on the German Ministry of Magic last week. I've been in touch with the survivors, and they have agreed that working together is for the best. I've sent Peter Pettigrew over to speak with their acting Minister."

Heads nodded around the table, and Remus had to suppress a smile. For the little kid who had claimed he'd get nowhere, Peter was sure moving up in the world. At present, he was the Deputy Head of International Magical Cooperation, and also a trusted member of the Order of the Phoenix. Remus was sure that he'd do a great job of convincing the Germans that Voldemort was everyone's problem, and not just Britain's--if the Dark Lord hadn't already done that for himself.

"Also, Lily's research has come up with some promising results that I think you'll all be interested in knowing about. Lily?"

The auburn haired beauty smiled slightly. "Well, it took me long enough to nail it down, but I think I've finally created the anti-Polyjuice Charm," she replied. Her words grabbed Remus' attention immediately; while Lily's unprecedented ability could be extremely useful, the fact that she hadn't been able to pass it on had been a pain. Now, though... Lily continued. "Of course, I'll need some Polyjuice Potion to be sure, but I'm pretty sure that it will work."

"I will provide the potion," Severus said immediately.

"And what about the test dummy?" Lily responded sweetly.

"Ask your husband," came the immediate response. Next to Lily, James only snorted in amusement.

Dumbledore smiled at the usual banter. "Well, now with that settled, onto the next order of business. Severus?"

"Rockwood."

Eyebrows, including Remus', shot up at the one word response. Rockwood? the headmaster thought incredulously. Impossible! The worst part about the dark times was guessing who the enemy really was...because Voldemort had as many spies as they did, and like the order, he kept their identities secret from his circle of Death Eaters, even the high ranking ones such as Severus Snape. Only the people in that room, for example, knew Snape's status as a spy, and even Dung, as trusted as he was, had only been let in on that secret a few years before. There was simply too much to risk.

"Rockwood?" Arabella repeated. "Explain yourself."

Snape shrugged. "Circumstantial evidence, but convincing," he replied. "I'm almost certain that he's the one who sold Bode and Croaker out. There is simply no one else who isn't in this room who knew."

"Hmm," the old woman grouched, but she did not argue. She did, however, frown, saying, "I suppose now we will have to find evidence to support that."

"If you'd rather I just let the spies continue on and spare you the effort of convicting them, Arabella, I will gladly desist," Snape replied archly.

Her gray eyes flashed dangerously, but Dumbledore cut her off. "Severus, Arabella--now is not the time."

"Of course," the old woman grunted.

"My apologies," Snape nodded. "But it is Rockwood."

"Speaking of Death Eater spies, Remus, how is Professor Quirrell doing?" Dumbledore asked suddenly, and Remus shrugged as the Minister turned to face him.

"As well as can be expected," he replied. "Still stuttering and bordering on incompetent--he's fine for the first few years' worth of classes, but beyond the forth year, he's almost hopeless. I can't imagine that Voldemort finds him very effective, either."

"He doesn't." Snape rolled his eyes. "But he enjoys thinking that he's slipped not one, but two, spies under your nose."

Remus chuckled. "Well, I prefer him to think me stupid, anyway. But to answer your question, Albus, it's still the same. Fortunately, Severus has authority over Quirrell, so together we've been able to keep him from anything important."

Important things, for example, like that meeting. Dumbledore might have been the Minister of Magic, but he still found it incredibly useful to run the Order of the Phoenix as a separate organization. When the government had foundered the first time, it had been the Order's existence that had allowed Dumbledore to dig the Ministry out of the ashes, and Remus whole-heartedly agreed that the Order's survival was essential in the fight against Voldemort. At the very least, the Order didn't involve bureaucratic chains-of-command or paper chasing, both of which tended to kill initiative and slow crucial plans down.

"Good." The Minster turned to James. "How goes the Azkaban Project?"

"Slow," James admitted. "We've managed to find out almost nothing--Voldemort doesn't even encourage his senior Death Eaters to visit the prisoners, so that means our spies have next to no chance of getting in there. He keeps the prison like it's his private playground...or his own little pocket of hell." As James spoke, Remus felt a shiver run down his spine. There were so many good people locked in Azkaban, so many onetime friends and colleagues--ever since Voldemort had taken the prison six years before, the Order and the Ministry had been trying to get it back. But the Dark Lord had taken the island as his throne world, and the concentrated strength of the Dementors and Death Eaters would keep even the strongest of assaults aside. Over the past three years, Voldemort had begun keeping prisoners of war there, as well, which only made the Order more eager to wrestle the island out of dark hands, but there had been little, if any, progress made.

"What I'd really like," James continued thoughtfully, "is to get someone in there. I know that our spies can't do it, so we might have to infiltrate someone in..."

"You mean as a prisoner," Fletcher cut in darkly.

"I think so, yes," James replied seriously, and then held up a hand before the Transfiguration professor could interject again. "I know what you're thinking, Dung, and I agree. It's a hell of a risk for anyone to take, and I wouldn't let anyone who's not a volunteer do it--but it's an idea. That's all it is right now, but we've got to do something. At last count, we knew of twenty-three prisoners who all deserve much better than living in Voldemort's private version of hell."

"The worst part about it, James, is that's a viable idea," Arabella responded after a moment when they all contemplated the risks in silence. "It's something we'll have to look into, at any rate."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore conceded, although he looked very unhappy to Remus. "Dung, what do you think?"

Fletcher swallowed. "I think it's a damn reckless idea. And whoever did it would be in for a world of hell...I don't think it's possible, Albus." The former Auror took a deep breath.

"And all the same, I think we're going to have to try."