A Reflection of Himself

The month of August had grown late, and as the days slowly shortened, Harry and his friends knew that their days before school started again were severely numbered. It was late afternoon that day a week before September 1, which always marked that start of the new school year, and Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the Weasley twins were on their broomsticks playing a makeshift game of Quidditch. Ginny was hoping to make the team as a Chaser the upcoming year, and both Harry and Ron would no doubt be continuing their positions as Seeker and Keeper, respectively. Harry was really looking forward to being able to play Quidditch again, especially after being banned unfairly during his fifth year by that horrible Umbridge woman.

As Harry swept through the sky on his Firebolt, he wondered who would be new to the team. All of the Chasers and both of the Beaters had been in their seventh year last year, so almost a whole new team would be playing for Gryffindor. Harry also thought about how honored he would feel if he were to be made Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, for he now was the one with the most experience. This sport was an important part of his life to him, probably because, while playing Quidditch and flying about on his broom, he could feel free from the restraints that had been so tightly placed on him. He felt like any other boy his age; for a wizard boy, that is.

"C'mon, Harry!" Ron exclaimed jovially, taunting his best friend. "You can do better than that!"

"I'd like to see you try to catch the Snitch, Ron!" Harry yelled back, laughing.

Just as Harry finished speaking, a golden glint caught his eye off to the far right. He maneuvered his broom in the right direction and took off after the Snitch, racing after the little, winged ball. He came up quickly on it, for this Snitch wasn't as top-of-the-line as the one at Hogwarts, and grasped it firmly with his right hand.

"Got it!" he called. "Game's over!"

Hermione had been watching from the ground the whole time, and as Harry landed, she gave him a quick hug and said, "Well done, Harry."

"'Bout time, mate," Ron teased, playfully smacking Harry on the back. "Gee, I'm hungry. I wonder when Mum is gonna have dinner ready."

Fred, George, and Ginny were talking amongst themselves as Mrs. Weasley came out the front door and announced, "Dinner's ready!"

"All right!" Ron and his brothers replied, acting as if they had been starved for days.

The group of teenagers followed Mrs. Weasley prompty into the kitchen, where she instructed them to wash up a bit before she would allow them to be seated at her table. They hastily removed their muddy shoes and proceeded to the sink, where they all fought over the water and a solitary bar of soap. Soon enough, everyone was seated around the table to experience yet another delicious meal by Mrs. Weasley. Harry seriously thought she should have been a professional cook as he took a bite of his Cornish hen. The flavor was decadent and savory, mouth watering with every bite. The juices of the tender meat practically melted in Harry's mouth as he reached for his glass of ice-cold pumpkin juice.

As the meal went underway, Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley exchanged glances and then both regarded Harry intently. At first, Harry didn't realize that they were staring at him, but as he reached for the butter across the table a bit, his green eyes caught notice of his surrogate parents' eyes on him.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley finally said, clearing his throat, "we've something important to tell you."

"Now, I don't want the rest of you lot making a fuss out of the matter," Mrs. Weasley intoned in her best motherly voice to the others at the table.

The others looked first at Mrs. Weasley questioningly, but then all eyes were on Harry. Harry was rapidly becoming nervous with all the sudden attention, and he wished the timing would have been better on Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys' parts.

"Er, okay," Harry finally replied hesitantly. "What... what is it?"

"There's an Order meeting tonight, Harry," Mr. Weasley began. "We meant to tell you earlier, but somehow, we didn't have the chance to tell you until now. Anyway, Professor Dumbledore has sent us a letter that informed us to tell you that you will now be attending Order meetings regularly. I realize that last year you hadn't been in attendance, and usually, no underage wizards are allowed to sit in on Order meetings, but it has become very obvious as of late, to Dumbledore and the rest of the Order, that your presence is necessary. You play the most important role in the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harry was completely silent as he tried to take all this new information in. He had to practically beg last summer to be given any information whatsoever from the Order when he had arrived at Grimmauld Place... Grimmauld Place... He was not sure how he would react to being there again. He hadn't been there since Sirius had passed away, after all. Harry also recalled how Dumbledore had admitted to his own shortcomings, in that he hadn't told Harry everything from day one at Hogwarts. Dumbledore must have pushed to allow Harry to be a part of the Order, but other than Snape, Harry didn't think the other Order members would have objected. Harry's countenance darkened at the thought of seeing Snape there, which was seeing him a week earlier than he would have liked.

Before Harry could say one word, though, Ron stood up and objected outwardly, "But that's not fair! Why should Harry be allowed to go and not us? We've been fightin' by his side, too, ya know!"

"Ron, just sit down," Hermione insisted as Ginny glared at her brother.

"No, Ron's right!" Fred exclaimed. "George and I are old enough, aren't we, Mum?"

"Well, that is true," Mr. Weasley replied. "Molly, the twins are old enough to be Order members if they so choose."

Mrs. Weasley looked at the twins sternly and said, "Yes, you are both old enough, but are you mature enough? You must realize just what you will be committing yourselves to, don't you? The members of the Order are sworn to secrecy, so anything, and I mean anything, you hear must be kept completely confidential."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," George insisted.

"Yep, no leakiness here," Fred added, smiling wryly.

"Well, I suppose," their mother sighed with defeat.

"Great!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed. "Now, Harry, getting back to the matter at hand, you will be expected to attend the meeting tonight. Do you understand?"

Harry suddenly felt resentment build up inside of him, for he realized that the only reason the Order had made an exception in his case was simply because he was the Boy Who Lived. He had grown tired of always being the exception, and he was angry that no exceptions would be made for his friends.

"Right," he muttered. "Order meeting. Required. I'll be there."

"All right, then," Mr. Weasley smiled, trying his best to ignore Harry's apparent dissatisfaction with the whole situation. "Molly, looks like we're just about finished here. How 'bout bringing that lovely cherry cobbler out you made for dessert?"

The rest of the meal somehow managed to pass in silence, for perhaps everyone was too shocked beyond words to utter anything. Harry had lost his appetite, and despite the fact that Mrs. Weasley could very well boast the best cherry cobbler in the country if she wanted, Harry barely tasted it as he picked through his plate. He managed to eat the entire piece he was given but had only done so out of courtesy to Mrs. Weasley.

Fred and George were the first to leave the table, standing up hastily without saying anything, and as they ran off up the stairs to their bedroom, Mrs. Weasley yelled after them, "Next time you'll do yourselves well to excuse yourselves from the dinner table!"

"Sorry, Mum!" Fred called back, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"But we're gettin' ready for the meeting!" added George.

"And just what, pray, does 'getting ready' imply?" questioned their mum suspiciously, but they were already gone and doing whatever it was they had up their sleeves.

Mrs. Weasley turned to her husband and muttered, "Those boys will turn me gray before the year is out, I swear it. I do hope you realize what your sons are getting into now that they've decided to join the Order."

"They'll be fine, Molly," Mr. Weasley replied, smiling. "Now, Harry, I would like you to gather up some parchment, ink, and a quill. Best to place them in a bag and keep them with you. There'll be a lot of information said tonight at the meeting, and you'll want to remember it."

"Right," Harry replied, standing up from the table. He stood there, pushing his chair in. "Er... am I excused?"

Mrs. Weasley, who was preoccupied with clearing the table, looked up at Harry and said, "Oh, well... yes, of course, Harry, dear. Go on, then; get your things and be back by a quarter to the hour."

Harry nodded and went up to Ron's bedroom, where he was joined shortly by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ron slumped into the room and fell back on the bed, sighing exasperately. Hermione and Ginny sat down on the floor at the foot of the bed and eyed Harry as he packed the things he would be needing for tonight.

"Ron," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "stop making such a git out of yourself. Harry, are you all right?" She regarded her friend with concern etched clearly all over her face as Ron grunted from the bed.

Harry looked up from the bag in which he had placed his things and sighed at his friends. "It's nothing," he muttered.

"It's nothing, huh?" Ginny asked sarcastically. "Really? Well, I guess we'll just all go away and leave you alone, then."

"No," Harry replied. "Look, I'm sorry, but what am I supposed to think? Last year, I was too young, but I was still the Boy Who Lived, and hella difference that made then. Surely, y'all remember that."

"Of course we do, Harry," said Hermione reassuringly, "but you are getting the chance now to be a part of the Order of the Phoenix. I mean, wow, do you realize just what this means?"

"Yeah, it means that I'm finally 'good enough' to be a part of it, I guess," Harry mumbled bitterly.

"It's still not fair," complained Ron. "D'you know what I'd give to be there with you, Harry?"

"Don't say that, Ron," Harry replied, sighing. "Look, it's best you guys just stay here. I promise to fill you in on what I can, even though I'm sure I'll be sworn to secrecy or whatever."

"I suppose," admitted Ron reluctantly.

"Oh, look at the time! You'd best be going!" Hermione exclaimed as her eyes wandered to her watch.

Harry stood up and simply said, "Yeah, I guess so. Well, wish me luck."

"Good luck," three voices uttered in unison.

Harry left Ron's room and proceeded down the stairs to meet Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and the twins in the kitchen. Harry suddenly panicked when he realized that they would probably be apparating there, and he didn't know how to apparate. He wasn't even old enough to have an apparation license.

"Er, not to sound stupid," he began, "but how were you planning on getting there? I can't apparate."

"Oh, 'tis not a problem, dear," Mrs. Weasley assured him. "We'll just travel by Floo, see?" She reached for a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace, exclaiming, "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

Green flames errupted from nowhere and engulfed her form. Mr. Weasley and the twins followed, leaving Harry the last one to travel via the Floo Network. Harry remembered how terrible his first experience with Floo had been and how he had wound up in Knockturn Alley instead of Diagon Alley. That experience four years ago had occurred from the Weasleys' fireplace, so Harry was just a bit apprehesive when he reached tentatively for a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace. He made sure that he clearly pronounced 'Number twelve, Grimmauld Place,' and then he found himself experiencing the unpleasantively disorienting feeling of traveling by this particular method. When Harry found himself a moment later standing in the living room of Grimmauld Place, he breathed a sigh of relief and smiled wearily at the Weasleys who were standing their in front of him.

"This way, dear," Mrs. Weasley explained, gently leading Harry in the necessary direction.

As they walked through the house, Harry tried hard not to think about his memories from the place. Despite the fact that the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry had helped Sirius clean the aged house up some the past year, it had fallen once again into a state of disrepair. They hadn't managed to make the house look new again, for it needed a lot of work, but it had been cleaner at any rate. Harry noticed that the picture of Sirius's late mother had been removed from the wall, and in its place all that remained was a square on the wall that was lighter than the rest of the surface from where the picture had hung for so many years. They continued past the heads of the Black family's house elves from generations past, and Harry thought about Kreacher, wondering why that wretched creature's head wasn't plastered to a mounting board on the wall yet. No mention had been made of the vile house elf, and Harry didn't see him anywhere. He thought that he would probably take it upon himself to strangle the little beast if he did see him.

Paint was peeling off the walls, and cracks were evident all over the plaster of both the ceiling and the walls. The floorboards were loose and creaked, and the once polished wood was worn down from years of traffic. The furniture was threadbare and had springs sticking out, and for the life of him, Harry didn't understand why they were even still meeting here. With Sirius dead, they should have chosen another place. For Harry's sake, they really, really should have chosen another place.

Harry blinked a couple of times as he saw the kitchen table and recalled the meals he had eaten with Sirius and his friends there. He looked with utter sadness at the fireplace in the kitchen, remembering the conversation he had had with Lupin and Sirius about his own father and Snape after seeing one of Snape's adolescent memories in the Pensieve and how later he had begged Kreacher for Sirius's whereabouts after he had had that horrific vision of Voldemort harming and threatening Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. It was all too much for Harry to bear.

Luckily, they were now entering the room where the meeting would be held. Harry sat down next to Mrs. Weasley and stared around the room at some familiar faces. Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Hestia Jones, Emmeline Vance, Mundungus Fletcher, among others from the Ministry were all there, but Harry didn't see Remus Lupin or Dumbledore yet, nor did he see Snape. He cringed at the very thought of seeing the Potions Master again, but it was only minutes from the beginning of the next meeting.

Fred and George were busy whispering between themselves, and whatever it was that they had planned, Harry was sure that if Mrs. Weasley found out, she wouldn't be pleased. Harry looked at her for any sign that she had taken notice of her two overly creative sons, but she seemed content enough. Suddenly, Harry heard a familiar voice on the other side of him say with false surprise, "Well, if it isn't Harry Potter."

Harry turned to face Lupin and smiled at his friend, replying, "Hullo, Remus... I was wondering when you would show up."

"Better a little late than never, eh, Harry?" he winked. "It's good to see you again. How are things?"

"Things are," Harry paused, his eyes following Professors Dumbledore and Snape as they entered the room, "fine."

Lupin just nodded and turned then to face the others who were present. Harry saw Dumbledore take a seat near the center of the room, where Harry figured the old wizard would be able to see everyone best. Snape, on the other hand, sat away from the crowd as much as he possibly could. Away from the warmth of the fireplace and away from the windows, he was alone in a corner, a trademark sneer plastered to his features. Harry wondered why Dumbledore tolerated the man's presence so much.

"Are we ready to begin?" Dumbledore announced, followed by many murmured "yeses." "All right, then. I would like to introduce our newest Order member to you all. I am quite sure that you all know who Harry Potter is by now, and I am honored to have him as a part of the Order." While Dumbledore was speaking, his eyes came to rest upon the Weasley twins, and he smiled pleasantly. "Oh, and do beg my pardon. It appears that we have two more new members are well. It is my pleasure to welcome Fred and George Weasley to the Order in addition to Harry Potter. Now, to business."

Dumbledore stopped speaking, and silence loomed about the room. Harry reached for his supplies, making sure his paper and quill were ready. He didn't want to miss a moment of the meeting. He listened anxiously for someone to speak, and to his surprise and dismay, a soft, low voice came from the shadowy corner of the room, the corner that housed Snape.

"I regret to inform you all that there is nothing new to report since the last meeting," Snape began, not looking at anyone else. "There has not been a Death Eater meeting since mid-July, but if my instincts are right, the Dark Lord will no doubt be calling his followers together before the start of the new school year at Hogwarts. He will want to discuss his plans for the next year, as this has been how he has operated in years past. I will keep you informed on the latest news I find out."

His impassive voice halted, and then Dumbledore spoke once again. "Thank you, Severus. As for the Ministry, they are now forced to believe that Voldemort has indeed returned. I cannot emphasize enough the implications of this. I realize that I spoke about this during the last meeting, but since July, Cornelius Fudge has done nothing to ensure the protection of the wizarding community. It is my conscious belief that there are many people working for and in the Ministry who have connections to Voldemort and who could even be Death Eaters."

As the Headmaster of Hogwarts spoke about Voldemort and said his cursed name, several people in the room visibly flinched. Apparently, Snape was not the only person who didn't like to hear the name and who was a part of the Order. A part of Harry wanted to laugh at them for being afraid of the very name, for it was just a name to him, but Harry remained quiet and kept up his note-taking as best as he could.

Several other people spoke about recent developments in the Ministry and suspicious activity, but nothing really had any definite leads. Everything seemed so ambiguous to Harry as he listened intently, and by the end of the meeting, he felt like his head was spinning. He thought he was leaving the room with more questions than he had when he entered. Harry found himself standing up and walking toward the door, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. As he walked out the doorway, he felt someone brush past him. Harry glanced at the back of Snape as the older wizard made his way hastily past the crowd.

Harry couldn't resist the urge as he muttered, "Excuse you."

Snape heard him. Stopping dead in midstride, Snape wheeled around to face Harry, sending a loathing glare in his direction. Everyone else filtered past them, leaving the two of them standing there, face to face. Finally, Snape said sardonically, "Well, if it isn't the Famous Harry Potter, who yet another exception has been made for. I suppose you're overjoyed to be a part of the honorable Order of the Phoenix now."

Harry tried to return the glare with just as much hatred, but he didn't think he would ever be able to master that trademark Snape glare, complete with the twisting sneer.

"Funny to hear that coming from you," Harry retorted with just as much sarcasm coating his words. "It would seem you made an exception yourself, Professor, by allowing me into your Advanced Potions class."

Snape came closer to Harry and hissed, "Trust me when I say, Mr. Potter, that it was against my wishes. You can graciously thank Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall for that. See you next week in Advanced Potions, Potter. I dare say this year shall prove... interesting."

Before Harry could respond, Snape had turned on his heel and strode straight out the front door. He was about to take another step when the Dark Mark on his left forearm suddenly writhed with excruciating pain, and as he grabbed hold of it, closing his eyes in agony, he soon opened them again to find himself in a dark place, face to face with none other than Voldemort.