The ancient Black residence trembled with activity as the fireplace in the drawing room burned bright emerald green almost without pause. One after another, witches and wizards stumbled out of the Floo Network, many collapsing the moment they arrived. Some were carried by others barely able to stand themselves, while a few emerged screaming in agony as curse wounds spread visibly across their skin.
And some never moved at all.
The smell inside Grimmauld Place became unbearable within minutes. Blood mixed with smoke and potion fumes until the entire manor felt suffocating. Burned flesh lingered heavily in the air while healers and exhausted Order members rushed through hallways shouting over one another.
Sirius Black stood near the doorway watching silently as another injured wizard was dragged out of the fireplace by two others. The man's robes were soaked completely red, and one of his arms hung twisted at an unnatural angle.
"Move!" somebody shouted from deeper inside the house. "Put him near the west room!"
"Where's the healer?!"
"We need blood-replenishing potion now!"
"Someone get clean bandages!"
The usually quiet Black Manor had transformed into complete chaos. Entire rooms had been magically expanded to create space for the wounded. Furniture had been removed from hallways, paintings covered, and old sitting rooms converted into makeshift infirmaries overflowing with injured witches and wizards.
And already there were people occupying few beds from previous missions.
Now even those spaces were filling too quickly.
A young witch knelt beside an older Order member while desperately pressing both hands against a wound spreading black corruption across his chest.
"Don't sleep!" she shouted with tears in her eyes. "Stay awake!"
Nearby, another man screamed as curse damage twisted painfully across his shoulder while a healer forced potion down his throat.
Near the staircase, two bodies already lay beneath white sheets.
Then another arrived.
And another after that.
Sirius clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.
Because this—
This was exactly how the first war began.
Disappearances first.
Then ambushes.
Britain still refused to admit Lord Voldemort had truly returned. Even after disappearances. Even after attacks. Even after entire families vanished overnight without explanation.
People preferred pretending.
Pretending the violence belonged to isolated dark wizards.
Pretending history was not repeating itself.
Pretending Voldemort remained dead.
Because accepting reality meant accepting war.
And people were cowards when it came to war.
The fireplace flared again violently before another Order member stumbled out half-conscious. He collapsed onto the carpet coughing heavily while soot and ash covered his robes.
"He was there…" the wizard muttered weakly. "He was there…"
"What?" Sirius demanded sharply while stepping closer.
The man's eyes looked hollow with terror.
"Voldemort…" he whispered shakily. "It was a trap…"
Silence spread through the room immediately.
Because hearing the name spoken aloud changed everything.
Another survivor emerged from the fireplace moments later and collapsed hard against the floorboards.
"It was fake," he rasped between breaths. "The intel… the prisoners… all of it…"
The mission had sounded simple.
An insider within the Death Eaters passed information about several captured Muggle-borns hidden inside an abandoned coastal cottage. Only ten Death Eaters guarding them. Twenty Order members deployed for a fast strike, rescue, and extraction.
They walked directly into Voldemort himself.
The realization spread through Grimmauld Place like poison.
"They knew we were coming," one witch whispered shakily.
"No," another injured member corrected weakly while clutching a bleeding shoulder. "They wanted us to come."
The fireplace erupted green once more before Madam Poppy Pomfrey stepped through immediately followed by Albus Dumbledore himself.
The moment Pomfrey saw the condition of the house, her face turned pale.
"Merlin…"
Then the battlefield healer inside her took over instantly.
"You!" she barked while pointing toward two younger Order members. "Move those bodies into the second room immediately."
"You—start boiling water now."
"Stabilize that man before he bleeds to death!"
"Where are the potions supplies?"
She moved through the wounded like a battlefield surgeon, fast and terrifyingly efficient. Her robes snapped behind her as she cast healing charms one after another while shouting instructions without pause.
Dumbledore meanwhile remained standing silently near the center of the room.
And for perhaps the first time in years—
The old wizard looked tired.
Sirius approached him immediately.
"How bad?"
Dumbledore's blue eyes remained fixed upon the wounded.
"Very."
Sirius lowered his voice further. "How many dead?"
"Five confirmed."
The Order had not suffered losses like this in years.
Then suddenly a loud scream echoed from one of the infirmary rooms. A young wizard convulsed violently as curse damage spread across his arm like black veins crawling beneath the skin.
Pomfrey cursed beneath her breath while examining it.
"That's dark magic."
Another wounded survivor spoke weakly from nearby.
"He used curses I've never seen before…"
"Who?" Sirius asked immediately.
The wizard stared blankly ahead, still shaking.
"The Dark Lord."
The room somehow became colder after hearing the name again.
"He didn't even look angry," the survivor whispered weakly. "He was smiling…"
Several injured members visibly shuddered.
One witch burst into tears openly.
"It wasn't a battle," she whispered brokenly. "He hunted us…"
That sentence struck Sirius harder than anything else spoken that night.
This had not been a chaotic ambush or ordinary duel.
Voldemort had prepared for this.
Planned it.
Everything designed to lure the Order into a killing ground.
And tonight, the Order of the Phoenix had been reminded exactly what kind of monster they were fighting.
Sirius looked toward Dumbledore again.
"What now?"
The old wizard remained silent for several long moments while watching healers rush desperately between beds and bodies.
Then finally he answered quietly,
"Now…"
His tired eyes shifted toward the blood-covered floors of Grimmauld Place.
"…the war truly begins."
Outside Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the wizarding world still slept peacefully.
But inside the ancient Black residence—
Among blood-covered carpets, exhausted healers, and grieving survivors—
Everyone already knew the truth.
Britain was already bleeding.
An emergency Order meeting was called almost immediately after the survivors from the failed mission stabilized enough to speak. The old Black family dining hall, once meant for noble dinners and political gatherings, now felt more like a war chamber.
The long dining table slowly filled with tired witches and wizards illuminated by dim magical lamps overhead. Shadows stretched heavily across the walls while silence lingered between conversations. Nobody there looked rested. Some still carried fresh injuries beneath hastily healed robes, while others simply looked emotionally drained.
Alastor Moody sat near the edge of the table with his magical eye spinning constantly, never truly relaxing for even a second. Nymphadora Tonks appeared exhausted beside him, her hair lacking its usual bright shifting colors and remaining a dull brown tonight. Remus Lupin quietly reviewed reports near the far end of the table, though the tiredness in his face made it obvious he had not slept at all.
Several other Order members slowly gathered as well. Joseph Buckman. David Clooney. Jacob Wills. Charles Guilford. Veterans from the first war mixed with younger recruits who still looked shaken by what happened earlier that night.
Then Sirius entered the room casually and dropped into a chair near the fireplace as though nothing unusual had happened.
Immediately Moody's magical eye locked onto him.
"We're discussing active operations," Moody growled gruffly. "You don't go on missions."
The tension sharpened instantly.
David nodded in agreement. "If you're not participating in field work," he said bluntly, "why exactly are you sitting in council meetings?"
Several members shifted awkwardly at the directness of the question.
Sirius leaned back slowly in his chair before letting out a humorless laugh.
"Because this is my house."
Sirius's grey eyes swept across the room coldly as he continued.
"I'm lending this house to your illegal organization. You use my rooms. You use my wards. You use centuries of Black family protections. You hold secret meetings under my roof while Ministry officials would happily throw half the people here into Azkaban if they knew what happened inside this house."
He leaned forward slightly afterward, his voice remaining calm but dangerous.
"So yes," Sirius said quietly, "I want to know what's happening inside my own home."
Moody looked ready to argue further, but before he could, Dumbledore calmly raised one hand.
"That is enough."
Remus also spoke before the tension could escalate further.
"We don't need internal fighting tonight."
Moody grunted unhappily but finally remained silent afterward, though the irritation in his expression remained obvious.
Sirius meanwhile looked entirely unbothered.
The atmosphere remained heavy until Tonks finally spoke. Her voice sounded tired enough that several people immediately looked toward her.
"We found the Death Eater."
The room quieted immediately.
"The one who leaked the information to us."
Dumbledore's expression sharpened slightly. "What happened?"
Tonks swallowed once before answering.
"He's dead."
Nobody reacted dramatically because most already expected that outcome. Death had become far too common recently.
But then Tonks continued.
"He was tortured before he died."
Tonks placed several photographs onto the table. Bruised skin. Burn marks. Dark curse wounds covering nearly every visible part of the dead man's body. And on his arm—
The Dark Mark.
Everyone understood instantly.
"It wasn't voluntary," Remus murmured quietly.
Tonks nodded grimly. "They caught him. Interrogated him. Extracted the mission details."
Moody cursed viciously under his breath.
"So Voldemort built the trap after learning we were coming," Jacob Wills said quietly.
"Yes," Tonks confirmed.
That somehow made the entire situation worse.
Because it meant Voldemort's network inside Britain had become terrifyingly efficient. Fast communication. Informants everywhere. Constant surveillance. The Death Eaters were no longer acting like scattered terrorists.
They were becoming organized.
The Order meanwhile was already struggling to keep up.
Dumbledore slowly stood near the head of the table, his robes moving softly in the dim candlelight.
"We proceed carefully from now onward."
"Carefully?" Moody snapped immediately. "We're already getting slaughtered!"
"Constant fear will not help us."
"No," Moody growled, "preparation will."
Surprisingly, Sirius nodded slightly at that.
The meeting continued afterward with grim efficiency. Assignments were distributed quickly because nobody there possessed the energy for lengthy arguments anymore.
Remus Lupin received perhaps the most dangerous task of all.
"You have a mission," Dumbledore said quietly.
Remus already looked exhausted before hearing the details.
"Where?"
"All over Europe."
The room became silent again because everyone immediately understood what that meant.
Werewolves.
During the first war many werewolves willingly joined Voldemort because the Ministry treated them worse than animals. Fenrir Greyback had built entire packs loyal to violence and bloodshed.
Now the fear was that history was repeating itself again.
"We need to know whether Greyback is gathering them," Dumbledore continued.
Remus rubbed his tired face slowly. "I'll try."
Moody spoke immediately afterward.
"Don't trust any of them."
Remus's expression darkened instantly.
"They're still people."
"Some of them."
The tension sharpened again briefly before Dumbledore intervened once more.
"Enough."
Then Charles received his assignment.
"The Muggle-born prisoners," Dumbledore said quietly. "We need their new locations."
Charles nodded grimly.
"If we don't rescue them…"
"Then the previous mission becomes meaningless," Sirius finished coldly.
Five people had died trying to rescue those prisoners. If the captives vanished afterward, then those deaths accomplished absolutely nothing.
And morale inside the Order was already dangerously fragile.
Eventually the discussion shifted toward another growing problem.
The prophecy.
Several Ministry employees secretly helping the Order had already died protecting information connected to it. Voldemort clearly wanted the prophecy desperately, and the Order kept bleeding people trying to keep it hidden.
Sirius finally spoke sharply.
"I've been telling you this for months."
His eyes fixed directly on Dumbledore.
"Take Rose to the Ministry. Let her retrieve the prophecy. End this."
Several members looked uncomfortable instantly because everyone knew Sirius was correct.
The prophecy could only be safely removed by the person it referred to.
And yet Dumbledore delayed repeatedly.
Now people were dying because of that delay.
"They killed Edmund last month," Sirius continued coldly. "They nearly killed Tonks two weeks ago. And now tonight?"
He gestured toward the infirmary rooms beyond the hallway where wounded Order members still fought for their lives.
"How many more people die because we refuse to act?"
Dumbledore remained silent for a long moment afterward.
"You are correct."
That shocked several members because Dumbledore rarely admitted mistakes openly.
"We cannot continue sacrificing Order members merely to guard an object."
Moody immediately grunted agreement.
"It will be done quietly," Dumbledore continued. "No large operation. No unnecessary risks."
Sirius leaned back afterward looking grimly satisfied.
The decision had finally been made.
Rose Potter would retrieve the prophecy.
And with that, the meeting slowly ended.
Exhausted members began leaving one by one. Some returned immediately to guard duty while others prepared for missions before sunrise. A few simply collapsed into chairs entirely drained from exhaustion and grief.
Meanwhile Sirius remained seated quietly near the dying fireplace flames long after most departed.
Then later that night, far away from Grimmauld Place, Helios sat alone inside his private room at Hogwarts. The castle remained quiet around him while moonlight spilled softly through the windows.
An enchanted mirror rested in his hand.
The surface shimmered faintly before Sirius's tired face appeared within it.
And just like always—
Sirius told him everything discussed during the meeting.
Helios listened silently throughout the entire conversation, his expression unreadable and coldly thoughtful.
Because unlike the Order of the Phoenix—
He already knew exactly where all of this would eventually lead if nobody changed the future soon enough.
Author's Note:
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