A Risk Worth Taking
The streets of London bustled with life.
Even as the evening deepened, the city hummed with movement — cars grumbled past, their headlights flickering across the wet pavement. Street vendors called out their final sales, footsteps hurried across cobbled roads, and distant laughter spilled from a nearby pub. The air smelled faintly of rain — cool and crisp, yet carrying the warmth of a city still awake.
Above it all, however, the sky churned.
Thick clouds gathered — heavy, swollen things — stretching dark fingers across the horizon. The faint scent of ozone lingered in the air, the promise of a storm hanging low and oppressive. Yet none of this seemed to reach the building hidden between Number 11 and Number 13.
Number 12 Grimmauld Place stood silent and unseen — concealed by enchantments, forgotten by the world around it. Muggles passed by without a second glance, never knowing the shadowed walls that lingered between the gaps.
But inside…
Inside, the air felt far colder than the evening chill outside.
The once-grand house remained a hollow shell of what it had been — its cold walls whispering the weight of its dark past. Dust clung to forgotten corners, and cobwebs hung like lace over empty portraits. The air itself seemed heavy, thick with memories that refused to die.
Only the dining room, the kitchen, and a handful of rooms bore signs of life — a desperate attempt to carve warmth into a house that resisted it.
In the dimly lit dining room, members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered once again.
The long dining table, now cluttered with parchment, maps, and ink-stained notes, stretched down the center of the room. The air was thick with tension, the low murmur of voices carrying a weight of what was to come.
James Potter sat near the end of the table, fingers tangled in his unruly hair, his jaw set in frustration. Beside him, Lily Potter clutched her teacup, her grip so tight that her knuckles turned white. Across from them, Frank Longbottom leaned forward, his elbows resting on the wood, exchanging quiet words with his wife, Alice, who nodded solemnly.
Sirius Black leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping restlessly against the wooden armrest, his face unreadable. Beside him, Marlene Black nee McKinnon studied the reports with a frown, her usual sharp wit absent.
In the corner, Severus Snape sat with arms folded, half-shadowed beneath the dim lighting. His dark eyes gleamed with cold disapproval, but he remained silent—for now. His presence was tolerated, barely, though no one dared question why he was there.
At the head of the table was Albus Dumbledore, his usual twinkle absent. His gaze swept over the room, taking in the tension in the air. The war had begun—not yet lost, but no longer distant. Voldemort was back. And the Ministry’s refusal to acknowledge it was pushing them into a losing battle before they had even properly begun.
Arthur and Molly Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, and Alastor were also present, their expressions varying from concern to contemplation.
Dumbledore finally spoke, his voice calm but commanding.
“Let us begin. The war is not yet upon us, but the signs are clear—Voldemort is rebuilding his influence. What have we learned?”
A sharp breath cut through the air as Sirius Black reached into his pocket, pulling out a stack of parchment. He tossed it onto the table, the pages fanning out. Official-looking documents, stamped with the Ministry’s seal—Auror reports of yet another attack.
“We have a serious problem,” Sirius said, his voice hoarse with frustration.
Moody was already pulling a report toward him, his magical eye whirring as he scanned the parchment. “This time, it was two Muggle-born families. Entire households wiped out. No survivors.”
Lily’s fingers clenched into fists, her green eyes burning with barely controlled fury.
“The third one this month.”
Her voice trembled with rage.
Kingsley sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “And the Ministry is doing nothing.”
Arthur’s face was grim. “That’s because they don’t want to admit it. If they acknowledge it, they’ll have to act. And they don’t want to.”
“They don’t even need to act, Arthur,” James cut in sharply, his hazel eyes stormy. “They just need to tell the truth. Let people know what’s happening so they can be prepared. But no—they’d rather cover it up.”
Molly Weasley reached out with trembling hands, pulling one of the reports toward her. As her eyes skimmed the words, her face paled.
“Children were in that house.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. The weight of that simple sentence settled on their shoulders, pressing down like an unbearable burden.
Sirius let out a sharp breath, his hands raking through his hair. “And we’re just sitting here watching it happen.”
Dumbledore’s voice cut through the room, quiet but firm.
“No, Sirius. We are not merely watching. We are preparing.”
Dumbledore turned his gaze to the man sitting near the shadows. “Severus, what have we learned?”
From his position in the dim light, Severus Snape regarded the room with an unreadable expression. Dressed in black, his posture stiff, he spoke in a measured, deliberate tone.
“The Dark Lord is moving carefully. He is not in a hurry—he is selecting his followers with purpose. Ensuring loyalty before taking risks.”
Kingsley nodded. “So he’s playing the long game.”
Snape inclined his head slightly. “For now. But make no mistake—when the time comes, he will strike.”
Tonks, who had been quiet until now, let out a low whistle. “And yet the Ministry thinks it can just pretend this isn’t happening. Brilliant.”
Moody gave a short, humorless chuckle. “The Ministry’s full of idiots who’d rather sit on their hands than face a real fight. That’s why we’re here.”
James exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the wand resting against his thigh. “He doesn’t need to declare war. His followers are already acting like it’s begun.”
Snape’s gaze flickered to him, something unreadable in his dark eyes.
“Those attacks were not ordered by the Dark Lord.”
The reaction was immediate.
Sirius sat forward, his expression a mix of anger and disbelief. “Oh? And how would you know?”
Snape didn’t blink at the veiled accusation. “Because the Dark Lord does not want the wizarding world aware of his return—not yet. He wishes them to remain in their illusion of peace while he strengthens his position. These attacks are the work of rogue Death Eaters acting on their own, eager to prove their loyalty.”
Lily’s voice was cold. “And he’s just letting them do it?”
Before Snape could respond, Sirius scoffed, leaning forward, his lip curling. “Oh, that makes it so much better, doesn’t it? A bunch of maniacs running around murdering people for fun instead of direct orders. You must be so relieved.”
Snape’s eyes flickered with irritation. “Unlike you, Black, I do not take pleasure in empty words and theatrics. I am stating facts. The Dark Lord was not pleased with these attacks—”
Sirius let out a harsh laugh. “Not pleased? Not pleased? And what exactly did he do about it, Snape? Give them a stern talking-to? Take away their robes?”
Snape’s patience snapped, and his voice was cold and sharp. “He punished them in ways you cannot even comprehend, Black. Do not make the mistake of thinking he tolerates disobedience.”
The air in the room shifted. There was something unsettling about the way Snape said it—not with sympathy, nor disgust, but as a simple statement of fact.
Sirius stood sharply, hands pressing into the table. “Oh, forgive me if I don’t shed a bloody tear for those Death Eater bastards getting a slap on the wrist!”
Snape’s eyes darkened. “Your reckless emotions are as idiotic as ever, I see.”
Before the argument could escalate further, Dumbledore’s voice cut through like a blade.
“Enough.”
Dumbledore’s voice was quiet but carried the full force of command. Both men fell silent, though the air between them crackled with hostility.
Marlene McKinnon slid a copy of the Daily Prophet to the center of the table. The headline was bold, the words twisting the truth into something unrecognizable.
Dumbledore’s Fearmongering: Spreading Panic in Peaceful Times
James’ grip on his wand tightened. “They’re trying to discredit you.”
Lily scanned the article, her frown deepening. “They’re calling you alarmist.”
Kingsley exhaled sharply. “And the worst part? People believe it.”
Tonks’s voice was thick with frustration. “This cannot go on much longer. At least in the last war, people knew what was happening. Now, they refuse to even acknowledge the threat.”
Moody’s voice was bitter. “The Ministry would rather pretend nothing is wrong than admit they have no control.”
James scowled. “With Charles and Rose heading back to Hogwarts, I don’t like the idea of them being caught in the middle of this.”
Alice sighed. “Frank and I feel the same. Neville will be there too.”
Sirius finally spoke, voice edged with frustration. “We all thought we were fighting for a better future, but here we are again. And this time, it’s our kids in the middle of it.”
Kingsley leaned forward. “We need to start securing alliances. We don’t have the Ministry’s support, but we have each other. We need real information, real strategies. The moment Voldemort makes his first real move, we need to be ready.”
Frank nodded. “Agreed. We can’t just watch—we need to start acting.”
Sirius exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I hate to say it, but maybe information isn’t enough. We need an edge.”
Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened. “Go on.”
Sirius hesitated. Then, his voice dropped slightly. “There’s something… something I found in the Black Library.”
The room shifted. Eyes turned toward him—some curious, others wary.
“I was looking through the Black library,” he began, his voice even. “Trying to find something, anything that could offer us protection—wards, old spells, anything useful.” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “And that’s when I came across something.”
Marlene, sitting beside him, glanced his way. It was subtle, but those paying attention could see she already knew what he was talking about. She gave a small nod before looking back at the others.
Sirius took the cue and continued. “It was in one of the older tomes. Not the usual Dark magic filth my family was obsessed with, but something… different. A ritual.”
The reaction was immediate. Moody’s magical eye whirled toward Sirius, his expression darkening. “A ritual? And what exactly does this ritual do, Black?”
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, exhaling before he answered. “It’s said to offer guidance. A way to find answers—solutions, even. If performed correctly, it could help us.”
The room remained silent for a beat. Then Lily spoke, cautiously. “Help us how?”
Sirius shrugged, his voice calm but firm. “That part isn’t exactly clear. From what I could decipher, it isn’t meant to attack or defend. It’s more… revealing.” He searched for the right words. “It’s meant to illuminate a path where none seems to exist.”
Arthur frowned. “You’re saying it’ll tell us what to do?”
Sirius hesitated, then shook his head. “Not directly. It won’t hand us a plan or a battle strategy. But it might show us something we’re missing—an answer we haven’t considered.”
Molly’s expression was wary. “And you trust this, Sirius? We don’t even know what it does.”
Sirius met her gaze, unwavering. “I know it’s old. Older than most of the magic we use today. And I know that my dear, paranoid ancestors deemed it important enough to keep locked away instead of destroying it.” He smirked humorlessly. “That alone says something.”
Remus, who had been listening closely, finally spoke. “Have you translated all of it?”
“Not all.” Sirius exhaled. “Some parts are… difficult. But the core of it is simple—it’s a ritual that, when performed with magic, reveals what is needed.”
Dumbledore, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice unreadable. “And you believe it could aid us in our struggle?”
Sirius held his gaze. “I do. Right now, we’re grasping at straws. The Ministry won’t listen, the public is blind, and Voldemort has a head start. If this ritual gives us even the smallest advantage, isn’t it worth considering?”
Kingsley folded his arms. “How do we know it won’t backfire? Magic that old tends to have a price.”
Marlene finally spoke, her voice steady. “Sirius wouldn’t have brought this up if he thought it would put us in danger.” She glanced around. “We’re not looking at Dark magic or some forbidden curse. This is about knowledge. And right now, we need all the help we can get.”
James, who had been quiet, sighed and rubbed his jaw. “Alright, let’s say we do this. How complicated is it?”
Sirius gave a half-smile. “That part, at least, is easy enough. We just need to channel magic into it. But the ritual requires intent. We can’t just perform it—we need to be asking for something.” His expression turned serious. “We need to be seeking guidance.”
The silence that followed was filled with unspoken thoughts.
Then, Snape scoffed, crossing his arms. “Of course. A reckless idea from the reckless Black. A ritual—of all things—when we don’t even know the full details?”
Molly frowned, her voice more measured but carrying the same concern. “Sirius, we can’t just perform a ritual blindly. It could be dangerous.”
Arthur nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Magic that old… if we don’t understand every aspect of it, we might end up causing more harm than good.”
Sirius exhaled sharply, his gaze snapping to Snape first. “I don’t expect you to have an open mind, Snivellus, but for once, try to think before you sneer.” His voice was clipped, but he quickly turned to the others, addressing their concerns.
“This isn’t some dark or blood magic ritual,” he clarified. “I’ve looked through it. The majority of it involves runes contributing magic to it—old magic, the kind that’s forgotten. The only requirement is a single drop of blood from each person participating.”
A pause.
Moody’s magical eye spun wildly. “Blood magic is blood magic, Black.”
Sirius shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. There’s no sacrifice, no binding of souls, no power exchange. It’s just… a key. A way to channel intent into magic.”
Dumbledore, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. “You are certain there are no dangerous side effects?”
Sirius met his gaze. “I’ve combed through every section I could translate. There’s nothing about consequences, backlashes, or curses.” He exhaled. “I wouldn’t bring this to the table if I thought it would put us at risk.”
Lily, watching him closely, asked, “Then what exactly does it do?”
Sirius hesitated for half a second before answering. “It’s meant to offer guidance.” He chose his words carefully. “Not in the form of prophecy or premonition, but as… a path. A way forward where there doesn’t seem to be one.”
Another silence stretched between them.
Frank and Alice exchanged glances, considering. It was Arthur who finally broke it. “And if it does work? What then?”
Sirius leaned forward. “Then we use whatever it gives us.” His voice hardened. “Right now, we have nothing. We’re waiting, hoping something will shift in our favor while Voldemort moves ahead. If this ritual gives us even a sliver of an advantage, then why not use it?”
His next words struck deeper. “If we gain any insight before the next school year begins, if we find anything that could make the children safer, why wouldn’t we take that chance?”
That shifted the mood. Molly’s expression tightened at the mention of children. Frank and Alice looked down at their hands. Even Arthur seemed more open.
Tonks, who had been quiet, finally piped up. “Alright, let’s assume we go forward with this. Where would we even do it?”
Sirius turned to her. “There’s a ritual chamber in Grimmauld Place. It’s been dormant for years, but it was built for magical practices exactly like this.”
Another pause.
Dumbledore folded his hands together. “You are not suggesting we conduct this immediately, are you?”
Sirius shook his head. “No. I’m saying we study it. We take our time. We check every rune, every phrase, every component. We ensure it’s safe.”
That seemed to ease some tension.
Dumbledore finally nodded. “Then I believe the first step is to bring forth this tome and begin our study.”
And just like that, a decision—tentative, cautious, but a decision nonetheless—was made.
For the first time in a long while, they weren’t waiting for the war to come to them.
They were looking for a way to fight back.
No one had outright agreed yet, but the shift in their expressions—some contemplative, some resigned—made it clear.
They would not dismiss this.
Dumbledore rose from his seat, his presence commanding yet calm. "Very well," he said at last, his gaze sweeping across the room. "We will proceed with caution. The tome must be studied thoroughly. The runes, the requirements, the intent—all of it. If there is even the slightest risk, we will not go through with it."
Sirius nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "I’ll bring the tome here tomorrow. We can go through it together."
Remus, silent until now, exhaled. "Then I suppose we have our next task set before us."
Arthur glanced towards Molly, who gave a slow, reluctant nod. "We’ll look into it," Arthur agreed. "No assumptions, no reckless actions—just careful planning."
Frank and Alice exchanged a look before Frank spoke. "If there is even a chance this gives us something useful, we’d be fools not to consider it."
Even Moody grumbled, "Fine. But if this backfires, Black, I’ll be the first to say ‘I told you so.’"
Sirius smirked slightly but didn’t push. This was as close to approval as they were going to get from him.
Dumbledore inclined his head. "Then we move forward—together."
The meeting slowly came to an end, chairs scraping against the floor as people rose to leave, deep in thought. The weight of the war was still on their shoulders, but for the first time in weeks, there was something else alongside it.
A sliver of possibility.
As the last of them left, Sirius lingered near the table, fingers brushing the edge of his chair. Marlene, who had stayed behind, watched him with knowing eyes.
“Do you really think this will work?” she finally asked.
Sirius didn’t answer immediately. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before meeting her gaze. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I have a feeling… that maybe this is it. Maybe this is the piece we’ve been missing.”
Marlene studied him for a moment before nodding, though the weight of uncertainty still hung between them.
Sirius turned back to the empty room, his jaw tightening. Because deep down, he knew—this wasn’t just a gamble for answers.
It was something far greater.
And whatever lay on the other side of it… would change everything.