At What Price?

Prologue:

The Order of the Phoenix

Since the dying breath of Godric Gryffindor there had been the Order of the Phoenix. He had formed it with his final request to Rowena Ravenclaw, asking her to gather together a few select wizards committed to the fight against darkness and evil as he laying dying from wounds suffered at the treacherous hand of Salazar Slytherin. The Order had fought evil wizards, religious inquisitions, plagues, and still more evil wizards throughout their history. Their most recent threat before the modern era had been Grindewald during the 1940's. Just as Hitler had threatened the muggle world, so had Grindewald committed heinous crimes against whole wizarding communities. Voldemort was just the latest in a long line of dark wizards that the Order of the Phoenix had squared off against. The only difference in this case was that Voldemort was in the here and now, the others were all footnotes to history.

The old man's sparkling blue eyes swept across the congregated membership, many were gathered in small knots of conversation. This was the third such meeting he had convened since the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort in the spring before last. He turned and looked out the window, basking in the early summer sun as it streamed through the glass. In the last year he had lost four more members in the fight against the darkness, three had been eulogized at the last meeting, one more would be added today. With a deep sigh he turned and strode to the podium. "I hereby call this meeting of the Phoenix to order." The old man's hand raised and lowered the gavel twice, his long white beard rippled with the motion. He looked out over the assembled men and women in the room with him, many still bore the scars of a war long past; some bore no scars but their eyes burned with the fire of righteous fury. "Our first order of business is a sad one, we mark today the passing of Raasam Soulforge of Didieln. Raasam had been with us only a short while, joining us five years ago. A Magi of the Order of David, his knowledge of astrological divination was an asset to us all. He was killed while tracking the Sons of Kyuss, an ancient death cult of dark wizards. From the ashes of this loss we are born strong again." The old man hung his head as the assembled gathering repeated in one voice "from the ashes of this loss we are born strong again." As was the custom throughout the wizarding world, the hall was silent for a full minute.

Raising his head he looked out over the assembly and began to speak again, "sixteen years ago we convened this council to mark the passing of the Dark Lord and discuss the fate of the Boy Who Lived. This night we gather again to discuss the Boy Who Lived and the Return of the Dark Lord. It seems the universe is not without a sense of irony." An uneasy chuckle swept through the crowd as the speaker surveyed them. His voice strong and reassuring, he resumed, "following that meeting we set protections over the boy that he might grow in safety and guard against the return of the Dark Lord. Over the years the task of watching, and in some cases, mentoring the boy have fallen to many among this body. Their deeds have been performed admirably, and he has risen in both power and knowledge. He is resourceful, thoughtful, caring, brave, humble, and above all, loyal. He has shown on no less than five occasions his willingness to face the Dark Lord in any guise. Thrice the phoenix has come to him, and shed his tears for the boy, a symbol of great respect. I submit to you that the Boy Who Lived is worthy of all that has been invested in him and prepared for him. The signs draw nigh that the final confrontation with this dark lord shall be soon, and that the boy will face him. Now, more than ever, he needs our protection and guidance. We can best do this by making him one of us." A ripple of sound passed over the assembly. Again his eyes swept the room noticing the empty chairs. In the seventeen years since the fall of the dark lord nine of their number had fallen. Four of those had been replaced prior to this latest loss. The Order did not have a set size, so as members died they were not always replaced, unless a worthy candidate was named. The old man knew that the number of Order members would change many times in the next year, for the Dark Lord was powerful and the destruction of powerful evil was not without cost.

"I, Albus Dumbledore, submit to this body, a request to grant membership in the Order of the Phoenix to Harry James Potter. As by the rules laid down in our ancient tradition, the vote must carry by a unanimous decision, so say you one, so say you all. Are there any among you who find fault with this procedure?" There was neither sound nor movement as the old man awaited any challenges but none came. "Are there any among you who would deny this nomination or the fitness of the nominee?" An old woman stood, she was a proud woman and carried herself as such. Her white hair hung in heavy waves to her shoulder blades. A face weathered and wrinkled by many years surrounded her sharp, amber eyes. Her hands did not quiver though and she gripped her cane with strength.

"Lord Phoenix," she addressed the man formally and with a grave voice, "I have known Harry Potter many years, I have watched over him, and for the last year I have instructed him. I understand that he is powerful, I have seen him consider his answers, and fret over injured friends while ignoring his own injuries and exhaustion. I know well his loyalty to his friends, but I must say he is still but a boy. He still suffers the anxieties and worries of a boy, he still trusts implicitly, and he sees the world through the eyes of a boy. While I do not doubt his power nor his conviction, one must wonder whether he is mature enough to do what you ask of him."

The crowd did not respond verbally, but Dumbledore could see the nods of ascension to the woman's words. Many shared them, but few actually knew Harry. It did concern him that Arabella Figg would raise these questions. As she said, she had watched Harry since the fall of Voldemort as a friend of the family, she had instructed him in Defense Against the Dark Arts for the last year where it was said he was a model student, and she was concerned for Harry's safety. Albus knew he could not dismiss these fears for a wise and respected member of the Order, a woman who knew Harry well, spoke them. There was only one way he could allay these misgivings let Harry's actions speak for themselves. "Arabella Figg," his voice was somber and thoughtful, "I cannot dismiss your concerns for I have had them myself and I place great store in your good word. However, I have also watched Harry, in moments when he thought he was alone, when he truly reveals himself. In his second year, Harry found the way to the Secret Chamber of Salazar Slytherin. He went there and endangered himself to gain the freedom of young Ginny Weasley. As many of you know, I was not present during that time, but Harry's dedication to the path of right summoned Fawkes to his side. In his fourth year, Harry was bent to the designs of the dark lord, yet he fought when all seemed hopeless. He fought not for glory, but for what was right. He fought because he knew that if he didn't the dark lord would descend upon his friends. When he had gained a respite and was able to return, he made the effort to return with the body of his friend Cedric Diggory because the shade of Cedric asked him to. He made this effort rather than simply running for his life because he believed he could do no less. The following year he discovered our existence, and still he fought the dark lord rather than waiting for someone else to take up the fight, because he believed it was his responsibility; the dark lord wanted Harry and Harry could not allow others to be endangered on his behalf. Less than a month ago he brought Petter Pettigrew before the minister of magic because he knew it was the right thing to do. He knew that all must be aware of the evil that Pettigrew had perpetrated. He told me that the desire for vengeance coursed through his veins, for he knew what Peter had done, knew that Peter had betrayed his parents. Yet still the desire for justice was so great that he brought Peter Pettigrew before the council for trial and intervened when Fudge ordered Pettigrew to undergo the dementor's kiss without a trial. Harry understands the need for justice is as great as the need to destroy the dark, and he will not sacrifice his own beliefs just for the sake of an easy outcome. Finally, he blesses the love of his two closest friends. He is not bitter that they share something he does not, but rejoices in their happiness. Harry's greatest concern is the safety and happiness of those in his care and those close to him. Because this is who he is, he deserves not only of our respect, but also of our protection. We can give him no greater protection than to make him one of us."

Dumbledore looked out over the gathering, some among them knew the stories of which he spoke, and others did not. All he saw appeared to be considering his words though, weighing the concerns they each shared against the actions of the boy. Was he worthy of their protection and loyalty? Was he worthy of the honor and responsibility that would come with this decision? Dumbledore smiled to himself, for he knew the answer in his heart. Fawkes could not be fooled, but saw into the very soul of Harry and had told Dumbledore that indeed Harry was worthy. He could see that many had decided and felt comfortable with pushing on. "Is there any other here who would speak?" He waited some few seconds, and the silence was oppressive. "In that case, are there any who would find fault with admitting Harry James Potter to the Order of the Phoenix?" There was no sound and no movement. "Then, in accordance with the desires of this body I shall convene a coven of five members for the initiation rite, and shall swear Harry James Potter to the Order of the Phoenix if he is willing to make the sacrifice." Twice more the man raised and lowered the gavel and the sound echoed through the chamber like thunder across the skies.