(Gilderoy Lockhart)
Lucius Malfoy had scarcely departed when the air beside me shimmered with heat.
A soft whoomph of flame bloomed into existence, harmless and warm, and Fawkes appeared as though he had been waiting for precisely that moment. He landed lightly on my shoulder, talons careful, feathers glowing faintly like embers banked beneath ash. There was a familiarity to the gesture that made my tension ease despite everything else pressing on my thoughts.
"Well now," I murmured, lifting a hand to stroke the warm curve of his neck. "That was impeccable timing."
Fawkes trilled softly, a sound that resonated somewhere just behind my ribs, and tilted his head. Clutched delicately in his beak was a sealed letter, the parchment marked with a familiar looping script.
"I suppose I shouldn't pretend to be surprised," I said. "What do you have for me?"
He released the letter into my hand with solemn precision.
I broke the seal and read only a single line before exhaling through my nose.
A summons. Of course it was.
"Alright, Fawkes," I said, folding the parchment and slipping it into my pocket. "Take me there."
The world vanished in fire.
It was not pain, nor heat, but the sensation of being unmade and remade in the span of a heartbeat. Flames curled around us, bright and soundless, and then just as suddenly they were gone.
I found myself seated neatly in the chair opposite Albus Dumbledore's desk, as though I had always been there. Fawkes remained perched on my shoulder, feathers settling with a soft rustle.
Dumbledore looked up from a stack of parchment, his blue eyes already alight with quiet understanding.
"I trust your meeting with Mr Malfoy went well?" he asked mildly.
"Indeed," I replied.
He waited.
I sighed inwardly. Of course he would want to know.
Lucius' words, his offer, his fear and his resolve, all replayed themselves in my mind. There was no point dancing around it. Dumbledore already knew there was more.
"He offered me a bargain," I said. "Protection for his family in exchange for information. He is prepared to act as my inside man within Voldemort's ranks."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose, just slightly. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands, fingertips pressed together. For a moment, he said nothing at all.
Then he reached up and patted his beard thoughtfully.
"It seems the years have indeed wizened Lucius from the impulsive young man he once was," he said at last. "It is always heartening to see people find their way back toward the right path, even if that path is a narrow one."
"Yes," I agreed. "Very much so."
I shifted in my chair. "Now then. You did not summon me merely to discuss Malfoy."
Dumbledore's expression changed at once. The warmth remained, but something heavier settled beneath it, like stone beneath velvet.
"One of my contacts in Gringotts has sent word," he said. "Bellatrix Lestrange's vault was accessed earlier today. Several items were removed."
My shoulders sagged before he even finished.
"Among them," Dumbledore continued, "was a cup. One that radiates exceedingly dark magic."
I slumped back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face. "So Tom has gotten ahead of us once more."
Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon glasses. "Yes. And I fear his power has increased considerably. Without such strength, he could not have orchestrated the fall of Azkaban's wards with such precision."
"This is bad," I said quietly. "Worse than before. I fear we may have a war on our hands that eclipses the last one entirely."
Dumbledore nodded once. "I have reached the same conclusion."
He rose from his chair and moved toward the window, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed out over the darkened grounds.
"It is time," he said, "to reassemble the Order."
I straightened. "The Order of the Phoenix?"
He did not look surprised that I knew the name. He merely inclined his head.
"Yes."
There it was again. That infuriating sense that nothing I knew ever truly surprised him.
"Do you have any candidates for recruitment in mind?" he asked, turning back toward me.
I considered it, rubbing my chin.
"Xenophilius Lovegood," I said slowly. "Having a newspaper at our disposal could prove invaluable. The Quibbler has gained unexpected credibility since the confirmation of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack's existence."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled faintly.
"And Nymphadora Tonks," I continued. "She may be just a new Auror, but she was Mad-Eye Moody's last apprentice. A Metamorphmagus as well."
"Very good," Dumbledore said. "I shall contact Mr Lovegood myself. I will leave the recruitment of Nymphadora to you."
I felt it then, the unmistakable certainty that he knew far more about my personal affairs than he let on.
I frowned. "Wait a moment. I am not even a member myself. Why am I recruiting anyone?"
Dumbledore smiled.
"Oh, you are quite right," he said. "In that case… consider this your invitation."
He inclined his head, eyes bright. "Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Gilderoy."
I stared at him for a heartbeat.
Then I sighed. "Very well. I will take care of it."
As I rose, I muttered under my breath, "Manipulative old goat."
Dumbledore's smile widened just a fraction as he chose, quite deliberately, to ignore that entirely.
Fawkes trilled softly, as if amused.
And somehow, despite everything, I found myself smiling back.
…
Thursday, October 7, 1993
And so that was how I found myself, the very next morning, striding into the Auror Office at the Ministry of Magic as though I owned the place.
Judging by the way conversations faltered and quills paused mid-scratch as I passed, one might have thought I did.
No one attempted to stop me. No one asked for credentials or questioned my purpose. A few Aurors merely straightened instinctively, others offered stiff nods, and one particularly young recruit nearly dropped an entire stack of parchment when he recognized me. I acknowledged them all with an easy smile, my staff tapping lightly against the polished floor as I made my way deeper into the department.
Madam Bones' personal office stood exactly where I remembered it, solid oak door reinforced with subtle wards that hummed faintly if one knew how to listen.
I knocked softly.
"Come in," Amelia's stern voice rang out.
I opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind me with care.
Her office was immaculate in that distinctly Bones way. Functional shelves packed with neatly labeled files, a wide desk buried under carefully ordered chaos, and not a single unnecessary ornament in sight. Amelia herself sat behind the desk, spectacles perched low on her nose, silver-streaked hair pulled back tightly. She looked tired, but composed, as always.
I smiled.
"Amelia," I said warmly, "you look as radiant as ever. Though you really should smile more. I'm certain your charm would increase drastically."
Her quill paused.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then she looked up, and I caught the faintest blush dusting her cheeks before she schooled her expression back into professionalism.
"Good morning, Gilderoy," she said, clearing her throat. "What brings you to my office?"
I took the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation, settling in comfortably.
"I was hoping to borrow one of your Aurors," I said lightly.
Her eyebrow arched. "Miss Tonks?"
I chuckled. "You wound me by how quickly you guessed. But yes, indeed. Is she available? I promise I won't steal her for long. An hour or so, at most."
Amelia leaned back in her chair, considering. "She's currently buried in paperwork for the new recruits," she said. "And she's been at it since dawn."
I put on my most earnest expression. "All the more reason to rescue her, wouldn't you say?"
She studied me for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose there's no harm in giving her a short break. Just make sure she's back on time."
I stood at once. "Thank you, Amelia. You're a darling. Now, if you excuse me, I won't be taking more of your precious time."
She waved a hand dismissively, though her lips twitched. "It's nothing, Gilderoy. Truly. You can take all the time you want. I don't mind the company."
I stepped closer, reached for her hand, and pressed a brief, courtly kiss to her knuckles.
"Until next time, Amelia."
Her breath hitched.
When I turned and left, I was reasonably certain she was one well-timed compliment away from swooning entirely.
The door closed behind me, and I resumed my walk through the Auror Office with a distinct swagger. I twirled my staff once for good measure, enjoying the faint whoosh it cut through the air, and set off in search of Tonks.
After all, I had an Auror to borrow.
And a recruitment to conduct.
…