AN: I think I like how this chapter turned out, but I'm not quite sure. The POV changes might come off a bit confusing, I think I might start labeling them like I do in my other story, but idk.

Anyone who was kind enough to follow me on IG might see that the account no longer exists. This is because I decided to make a separate account for fanart/fanfiction stuff. The handle is biitii_Art so if you're still interested, there you go.

That being said, enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 28

"—we continue to push individuals who support our cause into positions of power, My Lord, however, Pettigrew's capture has made it infinitely more difficult to move freely within the Ministry…"

Lucius studiously ignored the ache in his knees as he knelt on the intricately woven rug in the grand study of the Malfoy Manor—his own family home— knowing that showing such mortal weaknesses before the dark lord would be the height of folly.

The blonde Head of house had spent close to two decades in his master's service after all, even if his master was missing in action for near half that period. Lucius may have ingratiated himself quite nicely with the reigning ministry leaders in his master's absence, but he had never once considered himself anything but a Death Eater. The mark seared into both his skin and magic was a stark reminder of that fact.

No, even after the years the Death Eaters had spent in decline, Lucius had not forgotten the insidious burn of his master's power.

He held his position, hearing the swishing of the Dark Lord's robes as he paced languidly around the room, but couldn't help the subtle flinch as the feared wizard's voice pierced the silence.

"What of our efforts to confirm exactly what information Pettigrew has divulged?" Voldemort said with a cultured cadence.

It was the hooded figure that knelt to Lucius's left that spoke up in response. "Despite our continued attempts to plant a fellow patriot in the upper divisions of the Auror office, Bones' screening process remains a persistent roadblock to our efforts."

"I see…" the Dark Lord intoned. "Continued failure will of course be met with the appropriate… consequences."

"Yes, my lord."

Malfoy suppressed a sneer as the man beside him, Travers or Avery Jr.—he could never tell the difference between the two while masked—whimpered out his assent.

"Very well…" Voldemort sighed, running his bone-white fingers along Lucius's polished oak desk. "It appears that the time has come to take more overt steps towards our current goal. It would be foolish to assume Pettigrew has not divulged any information he was privy to… We can expect those opposed to our cause to be on alert, however, the Ministry has weakened beyond measure in these peaceful times…"

Voldemort turned his gaze on the assembled hooded figures, his inner circle arranged appropriately in a ring around his central position. "It is possible that, even after this operation, the current administration will continue to bury their heads in the sand. Those of you included in this operation have already been briefed, however…" A cruel smile stretched across thin lips. "We have one more incident to address before we adjourn…"

Lucius's eyes unconsciously trailed towards the body huddled in a shivering heap in the middle of the room. All the inner circle members currently assembled had of course immediately recognized one of their own, unmasked and purposefully alienated from the rest as he was. Macnair's propensity towards recklessness had always been a boon when properly directed, but it appeared that his nature had finally spurred him to cross the wrong individual.

"All members not participating on the assault on Azkaban were specifically directed to focus all efforts on infiltrating the Department of Mysteries, a directive that hardly concerns someone of your position in the Ministry. Pray tell… did you assume that I would not discover your treachery? And if you succeeded in capturing the boy, what then, did you presume that I could not retrieve him myself had I any need of him at this time?" Voldemort trailed off, turning back to face the prostrated form of Macnair, scarlet eyes flashing with malice.

"My Lord, I—"

"Crucio."

As desensitized to violence as Lucius was, the screams of those put under the Dark Lord's cruciatus seemed to cut straight to his soul, having felt the effects firsthand on countless occasions. A few moments later, but what probably seemed like hours to the victim, the Dark Lord ended the spell, resuming his pacing as if he'd never ceased.

"I have no need for meaningless apologies," Voldemort stated with a disturbing amount of apathy. "It is only logical that one pays for a transgression with a punishment of equal severity, is it not?"

The very air seemed to still as if waiting for an answer to the Dark Lord's question. Macnair managed a tremoring nod, fearing that a second attempt at an audible reply would earn a repeat performance.

The Dark Lord paused his pacing, tilting his head as he observed the wizard and his companion prostrated before him. A second later, a smile stretched across his face, exposing teeth so white that it was no wonder that they belonged to a body only a few month's old.

"So glad that you agree. Crucio."

It was stark reminder of the fate of those who chose to oppose the Dark Lord's word.

Hours later, Lucius strode his way down the luxuriously decorated halls of his family manor, the path to his destination being one he'd found fewer and fewer reasons to take as the years progressed. If his son ever needed to speak with him in private, he knew that Lucius's study was the appropriate location to do so.

At least until the most recent changes to their living arrangements.

Lucius rapped his knuckles against the dark wood of his son's door, entering once prompted by the voice within.

"Draco, you must listen carefully. Your very life my hinge on it…"

oooOoOoOooo

"I swear, the woman must think I'm still an 'ickle firstie just starting Hogwarts! Is it too much to ask to be treated like a bloody adult for once in my life?!"

Harry hid a grin as he dodged around groups of families going about their business between the colorful shops of Diagon Alley. Tonks' time with her mother had apparently been just as exhausting as the witch had expected, and she'd made absolutely zero effort to downplay that fact once she'd recovered from the ordeal. Harry reached out a hand to grip Nym's shoulder, redirecting her away from a couple that she'd nearly crashed into in her inattention.

"Maybe don't… walk backwards in the middle of the alley, Nym? Unless you've finally figured out how to actually grow eyes on the back of your head?"

Harry smiled fondly as the witch rolled her eyes, twirling in such a way that he found his arm situated over her shoulders.

"Why bother when I've got an extra pair right here?" she said, bumping her forehead into his chest.

"Oh, get a room!" George called loudly from where he trailed the pair. His brother mimed retching by his side.

Nym cocked an eyebrow. "Our hugging too stimulating for your innocent eyes, Fred?"

"—George," he corrected immediately

"Bugger! Wrong again!" she cursed, snapping her fingers in agitation.

Harry was convinced by this point that she was purposefully calling the pair by the wrong names. After all, guessing incorrectly with perfect accuracy was pretty telling, and judging by their suspicious stares, the twins were catching onto her antics as well.

"Will you please focus," Hermione cut in, pulling Ron away from the newest display at Quality Quidditch Supplies. "It's been nearly an hour and we've barely made a dent in our school shopping."

Harry laughed lightly, "Well, to be fair, I've already gotten my books for the year, Hermione. Plus, we just came from the apothecary," he added, tapping the shrunken trunk that hung around his neck."

She frowned, narrowing her eyes at him over her shoulder. "When did you have time to buy your books, anyway?"

"Fleur's apartment is just a few blocks that way," he said, jerking his thumb down the street they happened to be passing at that moment. "I've been in and out of the alley all summer."

Hermione looked like she had something to say about that, but was never given the opportunity, as Fred hooked his arm over Harry and Tonks' shoulders. "And where is the resplendent genius, Harry?"

George did the same on their other side, "Indeed! We'd been meaning to get her opinion on the ingredients we'd chosen for some of our new products." He shook his own back of goodies from the shop they'd just vacated.

Harry's stomach turned at the mere thought of ingesting any of the foul ingredients that could be found in Slug and Jiggers, but he supposed that that was the basis of most potions anyway. They certainly tasted foul enough. "I'm not sure if she'd be interested in your prank sweets, guys…" he said, remembering Fleur's reaction to Nym's abuse of the Ton-Tongue-Toffee. "But who knows," he shrugged. "You'd have to ask her yourself, but as for where Fleur is right now, she's visiting a relative of Nym's."

Several sets of curious eyes leveled on the metamorph in question, but it was Harry that continued to explain. "She's been attempting to further develop his research," he said, being intentionally vague to the nature of Alistair's craft. Harry shook his head, sending amber-streaked black locks even more askew than they already were. "To be honest with you, a lot of it goes over my head, calling Fleur a genius is no exaggeration."

Hermione appeared justifiably curious, but seemed to accept that she would be getting no more information out of Harry himself. He only prayed that the girl wouldn't pester Fleur too much about her research, he knew how waspish she could be when stumped by a puzzle. They certainly had that in common…

"Tell you what, Hermione, why don't you go ahead to Flourish and Blotts with Ron and these two clowns—"

"—Hey!"

"—And we'll go get us all some Fortescue's while we wait." Harry already stocked up on this year's spellbooks, not to mention countless others that weren't included in the Hogwarts curriculum, and despite his own respect for knowledge, there was only so much enjoyment he could get from sitting around, waiting for Hermione to finish browsing. Especially in such a mainstream bookstore. "But do me a favor," he added, tossing her a small pouch that rattled with wizarding currency to the girl. "There's a supplementary potions text that Tonks recommended for OWL years, mind picking me up a copy?"

The metamorph nodded with a heavy sigh. "I was pants at potions too. I never woulda' gotten the NEWT for the subject if it wasn't for this baby." She conjured a pen and a scrap of paper, scribbling the name of the text in her surprisingly neat script and handing it over.

Hermione peered at the paper for a moment before nodding sharply. "No problem, and thanks, I suppose… I'll probably pick up a copy for myself."

"No such thing as a perfect potion, eh Hermione?" Ron jibed lightly, earning a elbow to the gut from the girl. But Harry was just happy to see a bit of the light returning to the boy's eyes, even at the expense of his kidney. He'd been quite lethargic since his encounter with the locket, not that Harry could blame him.

He turned to Tonks as the larger group headed off to the bookstore. "Mind if we stop by the menagerie first? Hedwig's pretty self-sufficient, but I've got a few questions about this little guy." He held his wrist up to eye level, smiling lightly as the tiny head of the unnamed coral snake poked its way out of the sleeve of his overcoat.

§"Why not asssk 'thisss little guy,' ssspeaker!?"§

§" My apologiesss, friend, I did not mean to presssume, but instinctsss can only take you ssso far… "§ Harry hissed back under his breath. He subconsciously glanced over his shoulder, still struggling to shake the stigma attached to the language.

Harry turned back to Tonks, frowning only to chuckle in amusement seeing her avoid his eyes, cheeks flushing lightly. "Oh, something on your mind?" he purred in her ear.

Nym shoved him away through embarrassed laughter. "Bugger off, Wonderboy! Go polish your snake already!" She stomped off towards the lively storefront of the Menagerie, just visible from their location in the alley.

oooOoOoOooo

"Davis! We've got two more volcanic fudge sundaes coming up and I'm still waiting on that Fruity Frosted Wonderland! What's the hold up?"

Tracey slumped, puffing at an errant strand of dirty blonde hair that had fallen into her eyes. She'd loved how it looked when she'd chopped it short at the beginning of the summer holidays, not to mention the convenience when it came to washing and styling it, but in the months since then it had grown to the infuriating length where it was still too short to tie up in a ponytail and just long enough to fall into her eyes.

A reasonable tame irritant for sure, but in the long shifts working for Fortescue, what would normally be a minor, issue was enough to leave her fuming.

Well… perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, but how was she supposed to know that the old man would be such a vicious taskmaster!? Oh, I'll get a part-time job, she'd thought. How hard could it be? She'd assured herself.

Hah!

Tracey had long-since learned that ice cream, at least ice cream produced by master Fortescue, was not a joke. She'd just finished adding the assorted fruit, each diced into a perfectly identical single centimeter cubes onto the mostly completed trio of vanilla, coconut and mint ice cream. Tracey furrowed her brow in concentration, for the finishing touch, she levitated a handful of prepared shaved ice over the colorful creation, twirling her wand in an intricate motion that set the frozen crystals spinning about like a miniature flurry.

The spell itself, like most of the techniques she'd learned during her on-site training were heavily guarded family secrets. She'd of course had to sign a magically binding non-disclosure contract before she'd even been considered for hiring. But as she gazed upon the finished product with a satisfied grin tugging at her lips, she couldn't help but think it had all been worth it.

"One Fruity Winter Wonderland!" she called, carefully setting the animated creation on the counter for the servers to deliver to the customer. The store itself was packed to the brim. A normal occurrence for this time of the year, or so she'd been told by one of the more veteran employees.

Tracey wiped the sweat from her brow with a cloth that hung at her belt, before turning back to her workspace to start on the pair of Volcanic fudge sundaes. Fortunately for her, that particular item was significantly easier to put together as it relied mostly on the in-house bakers making the molten lava cake. All she had to do was top the finished product with the customer's choice of ice-cream, syrup, and sprinkles. Considering that Fortescue had detailed no alterations to the order, she gently added a scoop of vanilla, and a dash of chocolate syrup and sprinkles to both steaming bowls of cake.

"Mind taking those out yourself, Davis?" Fortescue called as he glided past her with surprising agility for a man of his age. "We're short-staffed, and I need to double-check our inventory of Himalayan chocolate in the back."

"Sure thing, Boss!" she called to the double doors as they swung shut behind him.

She cradled both bowls by hand, not trusting her ability to levitate multiple objects with any sort of precision, and made her way out to the patio where most of their clientele lounged about, enjoying the sun. Serving the customers was nothing new to her, of course. Tracey had started as a waitress before she'd, by some stroke of luck, proven her ability to recreate one of Fortescue's masterpieces.

At the time, she'd thought that she was going be fired on the spot for stealing his recipes or something, but the man had taken her on as his apprentice that very same day. The fact that he now trusted her to handle the orders on her own showed exactly how well she'd taken to the craft, and Tracey could say with confidence that she'd never looked back.

So lost was the witch in the thoughts of her humble beginnings, that Tracey completely missed the approach of the compact figure that careened into her side, and in her shock, sending both sundaes arcing through the air. Her heart leapt into her throat as her hazel eyes tracked their torturous descent, fully prepared for the implosion of shattered glass and fudgy goodness to cover the patio and customers alike.

But it never came…

Tracey stood, transfixed, as the pair of bowls delicately slowed their descent, settling to a halt a mere foot away from the stone floor of the patio. Before her eyes they gradually reversed their path, settling after a few seconds into her hands that were frozen in their frantic outstretched position.

The sudden touch of the cool glass in her palms broke her out of her reverie, and she turned to face her unlikely savior.

The first thing she'd noticed was the man's extended hand. He held it palm up, as if he'd performed that little bit of heroism with but a twitch of his fingers.

But that couldn't be right…

Tracey frowned thoughtfully. The only wizard she'd seen perform such casual wandless magic was her headmaster. The man peering at her with those curiously two-toned eyes could barely pass for a graduate, let alone someone who'd amassed the decades of experience possessed by Dumbledore. His amber-streaked dark hair was styled in a tasteful disarray that just barely fell into his eyes. A sharp nose and jaw rounded off a rough, but attractive face, the kind of looks that he'd probably had to grow into. But now that he had…

Shit, his lips were moving, and Tracey had completely missed what the man had said. Thankfully, he seemed to catch onto her inattention and helpfully repeated his query.

"Hi there, we're really sorry about that. Nym here can get a bit… rambunctious in public places," he whispered conspiratorially, jade and silver eyes flashing with mirth as he dodged a swipe from the witch beside him. Why did that particular shade of green seem so familiar? Tracey was sure she would have remembered a wizard like this.

For the first time in their encounter her gaze shifted to the man's companion, a smaller witch with a hairstyle that was shorter and possibly even more chaotic than her own. Matching electric blue irises pierced knowingly into her own, though the witch's brows were tilted up apologetically.

The look at least kicked her brain into gear. "Oh, yeah… no problem, thanks for the heh... save…"

Nailed it.

Tracey wordlessly left the couple as they sat at one of the patio benches, delivering the two sundaes on autopilot to what looked to be a pair of Hogwarts first or second years. She made her way back to her workspace behind the counter but couldn't help but wonder why the wizard had seemed so familiar.

"Order up!" the voice of one of their waitresses called, sticking a particularly large ticket to the counter. She glanced at the list of items, noting that she'd need to toast the nuts ahead of time for the two 'Monkey Business' banana splits, before tackling the easier items. Figuring out the puzzle could wait, she had work to do.

oooOoOoOooo

"Who was that witch? You seemed to recognize her," Tonks commented idly as she lounged back in her seat, soaking in the rays of sun.

"The waitress?" Harry said, pausing for a moment. "A Slytherin from my year I think… why?"

"She was cute," she grinned, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Horndog." Harry laughed. He stretched his arms above his head, groaning as his back popped deliciously. "We've had quite a few classes together, but she didn't seem to notice me…"

"No, she didn't recognize you," Nym clarified. "She definitely noticed you, Wonderboy, and for good reason."

"You know what I meant!" Harry said, avoiding her challenging gaze. "Plus, I'm quite satisfied with my current arrangement thank you very much." He was still getting used to earning that kind of attention from girls, and if this was what he had to look forward to come the start of term, he sure had a rough year ahead of him.

Nym threaded her fingers through her electric blue hair, tinting it a slightly darker shade and lengthening it a few inches after a moment of consideration. "Trust me, I am too, but that doesn't mean we can't mix it up every once in a while."

Harry's eyebrows arched in disbelief at that statement, but he wasn't given a chance to respond as the rest of their friends trickled in to seat themselves at the table.

"Hey! You managed to drag Hermione out of F 'n B's in less than an hour, I'm impressed," Tonks called, earning a laugh from the Weasleys and a scowl from the girl in question.

"Only cus we ran into Malfoy and Parkison," George commented lightly. "Seems like the summer holidays've made them even more pleasant that usual" George commented lightly.

"Smart," Harry nodded. "Wouldn't want to risk another aggravated assault charge."

He grinned, dodging the expected swipe from Hermione, and chuckling at the confused expressions on every other magical besides Tonks.

"We have another name for it in the wizarding world, but I can make an educated guess for what exactly it translates to." She turned to an increasingly flushing Hermione, "That sounds like a story, Ms. Granger, care to share?" She wiggled her eyebrows enticingly.

"Well…"

oooOoOoOooo

No. Fucking. Way.

Tracey pinched herself, certain that she was imagining the group of students that had joined the couple from earlier. It had been a brutal ten hour shift, after all…

But no, several experimental blinks told her that her vision was perfectly functioning at the moment.

Out of context, the attractive wizard from earlier was simply another customer in the endless stream she dealt with during Fortescue's summer rush. But framed by the assorted Weasleys and Granger of all people?! There was only one identity of the dark-haired stranger that would make sense… It had to be Potter—any other explanation would only be horribly coincidental.

Tracey's hazel eyes peeked through the glass display counter as the larger order she'd just completed was delivered to her classmates' table. She smothered a laugh as the Weasley twins each took a banana split for themselves. The ticket had specified identical ice cream selections, both with added pineapple, strawberries and of course Fortescue's signature melting maraschino cherries. The only disparity was that one twin seemed to prefer peanuts while the other specified almonds… Monkey business, indeed.

"What are you looking at?"

Tracey flinched violently at the unexpected voice, her heart thrown into overdrive for the second time in barely half an hour. "Christ, Daph! You trying to give me a heart attack?" she hissed, yanking her friend down behind the counter.

She'd clearly lost track of time during her spontaneous bout of sleuthing, a glance at the wristwatch she'd pocketed while she was working told her that her shift had ended nearly minutes earlier. Tracey had told her friend to meet her out front so they could finish up some last-minute school shopping, but frankly, pursuing her current subject of interest was a far more intriguing prospect.

Daphne sighed, anxiously tugging at sleek, black strands of hair that fell well past her shoulders. "Must you always involve me…"

Tracey pouted, pulling the other girl so they crouched shoulder to shoulder. "C'mon, Daph! If I didn't you'd never leave your room…"

"I fail to see the issue," Daphne deadpanned.

Tracey gave a lopsided smile that was a mix of fondness and exasperation, knowing the girl was entirely serious with that claim. The dark-haired girl's almost crystaline violet irises, peered shyly through naturally alluring lashes. Daphne's eyes were probably the most unique aspect of her appearance, but her pouty lips and otherwise soft features made for an unreasonably attractive witch.

She was also possibly the most socially awkward girl Tracey had ever met, and most likely considered her looks a nuisance for the attention it brought her.

The irony was sickening.

"Just look." Tracey insisted, directing her friend's gaze to the table filled with Gryffindors. "Even you might find this interesting…"

"Gingers…"

"Yes," Tracey enthused. "But look whose sitting with them… It's bloody Potter!" She yell-whispered, unable to wait for her friend to make the connection herself.

"Ah… he's taller." Daphne commented as if that was the most noticeable change that had taken place.

"Way to state the obvious, Daph. Puberty hit that boy like truck! Not to mention he got out of those rags he always wore… Maybe I should go over and thank him for earlier… I wonder who taught him wandless magic…"

"Wait… when did that happen?" Daphne asked, frowning thoughtfully.

Tracey scoffed, peering over the edge of the counter once more. "Figures that you'd only be interested after I mention magic. Yeah, I nearly shattered two dishes earlier, but he totally snatched them right out of the air, not a wand in sight." She stuck a finger up as if deflecting blame, "But to be fair, it was his girlfriend's fault in the first place…"

"G-girlfriend?" Daphne asked hesitantly.

What was that all about, anyway? Was her gossip really torturous enough to warrant that kind of expression?! She continued on regardless.

"That's the best part, see. Look at the witch over there sitting next to him. The one with the blue pixie cut… well I guess it's a bit longer than that... Weird, I coulda' sworn it was—" she trailed off, her lips quirking in thought.

"She's cute," Daphne shrugged.

"I know, I totally love her style! But that's not the point, when they came in earlier, those two were together… like, together together…"

"You shouldn't bother them, Tracey…"

"I wasn't just gonna waltz up there," she said, affronted.

Daphne just stared; sparkling eyes unrelenting.

"I do work here you, know!"

"You've been off your shift for nearly twenty minutes now, so since you insisted on dragging me into the sun, don't you think we should get this shopping trip over with?"

"Fine, let me grab my stuff from the back and we can go," She inched away, sneaking peeks over her shoulder as if she'd miss something juicy the minute she looked away. The double doors flapped shut behind her.

Daphne exhaled softly, relishing the brief moment of solitude. It wasn't as if she didn't like spending time with Tracey, she was her best friend after all. Just the expectations that came with interacting with people in general seemed to sap her stamina like nothing else. Realistically, Tracey was the only one in her house that was stubborn enough to put up with her antics without some ulterior motive.

"Thanks! Everything was delicious!" a friendly voice spoke up, startling Daphne out of her reverie.

Her violet eyes widened at the wizard that smiled down at her. Now that he stood right in front of her, the changes that had come about in the boy who lived were even more apparent. It wasn't as if they'd ever really interacted during classes, but she'd been around him enough to recognize the physical changes. What was less easily explained was the aura that seemed to emanate around him. As if his magic had finally aligned with the various titles he'd been assigned since birth. Daphne wasn't exactly sure how to feel about that…

He placed a tray on the counter, bowls and plates nearly licked clean and neatly stacked in the center. It took her a moment to realize what he was implying.

"Oh, I'm n-not…" she trailed off, each word less audible than the last.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"…" Words once again failed her. Typical…

"Well… thanks again…" He smiled, kindly ignoring how obviously uncomfortable she was, and walked back to his friends a moment later.

"You're welcome… Harry." Daphne said quietly, though with the distance between them, she'd have been surprised if he'd heard.

oooOoOoOooo

"You're meaning to tell me I'm supposed to believe that you have no idea what the man has planned, Snivelus?!" Sirius stood, his chair scraping audibly against the wooden floors of the dinging room. "None at all? What exactly do you spend all your time doing over there with your slytherin class reunion?"

Snape's dark eyes flashed dangerously under a narrowed brow, but when he answered, his tone was as calm and collected as ever. "Unlike The Order's more… freeform approach to operations," he said silkily, eyeing the younger magicals in the room, "—the Dark Lord is far more selective with who he shares critical information."

"Right, with the kind of wizards that flock to the bastard, I'd be worried about getting cursed in the back too!" Sirius slapped the table, turning away and running a hand through his hair exhaustedly.

Harry sat to the left of Fleur, who had returned from her short research trip shortly after his own group had gotten back from the alley. Nym flanked his other side, all three magicals watching with less and less patience the back and forth between the two wizards.

Harry sighed audibly as the meeting was once more held up by overt taunts from Sirius, and Snape's less-than-amicable responses.

"Peace, Severus, Sirius. This is hardly the time…" Dumbledore trailed off, a thoughtful frown coming over his features. "From the information Severus has procured, it is obvious that Voldemort—"

A round of winces around the table.

"—is making overtures that seem to deviate from his previous priorities…"

"For risk of stating the obvious here…" Harry hedged, "the most immediate event is clearly the start of term, is it not? Just a few days away and suddenly there's a mission that only a select few know about?" He peered around the table seeing the various members in attendance nod with a hesitant agreement.

"It could also be misdirection, non?" Fleur added, meeting his eyes.

He dipped his head in agreement. "You're right, this could all be a play on the department of mysteries. But then again…" Harry's silver-ringed irises settled on the Headmaster at the head of the table.

He was aware that Dumbledore hadn't exactly informed the rest of The Order on the specifics of why Voldemort was so persistent in his infiltration of that particular division. The 'weapon' they all thought they were defending was vague enough to feel a bit of guilt at his continued silence. But he had a feeling that his reasoning was quite a bit different from the headmaster's.

Harry'd made it quite clear what he thought of the prophecy. As far as he was concerned, anyone who'd got a shot at offing Riddle should take it no questions asked. Not that any attempt would succeed while several of his horcruxes were still in existence. Revealing the prophecy to everyone in attendance would only incite an illogical reaction from some, while others would consider him a higher priority than they already did.

He only hoped that whoever was stuck guarding that first door knew that Voldemort would eventually come in person… No one else but he and Harry could remove it after all…

"Both scenarios are well within the realm of possibility," Dumbledore said calmly, cutting through Harry's musings. "However, we can postulate until sunrise, but until the time comes, I fear we have no way of knowing."

"Well, are we just going to wait for him to make a move!?" Mrs. Weasley cried helplessly. She fiddled with the hem of her sweater, eyes darting around the room as if someone would magically solve all their problems.

"Calm yourself, Molly, we will of course take precautions, not that we hadn't planned to already," the Headmaster said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "We will assign extra guard shifts to accompany those attending Hogwarts on the first, on the way to, as well as on board the Express."

"And how will we manage that, Albus?" Dodge cut in disbelievingly. "We're already stretched thin enough as it is!"

Nym finally spoke up from Harry's right. "No worries on that front," she said, leaning back and somehow balancing her massive wooden chair on two legs. "I wouldn't trust some of the Aurors on my assigned squad near this place, so we'll need still need guards for the commute to Kings Cross, but after that, we'll be on the Express for the whole trip. You'll only be pulled away from your ordinary duties for that short interval."

Increasingly confident mutters went around the table until everyone's eyes returned to the wizened man still standing at the head. He nodded succinctly. "Well then, if everyone's in agreement, anyone willing to volunteer for guard detail on the first day of term, please remain behind, the rest of you are dismissed. I wish you all safe travels."

Farewells were exchanged as members stood to leave either upstairs, in the case of the older Weasleys, or to speak with the headmaster in the case of Moody and the other combat-worthy wizards. The meeting had ended on a seemingly positive note, but Harry couldn't help but feel it was simply the calm before the storm.