Awakening the Unseen
The night before the ritual, Grimmauld Place was a whirlwind of movement, its inhabitants moving with a sense of urgency and purpose. The ritual chamber-previously unused and layered in years of dust and neglect-had been thoroughly cleaned and consecrated.
The scent of crushed herbs still lingered in the air from the purification process, a mixture of sage, rosemary, and mugwort, their essence soaked into the very stone of the chamber. The floors had been scrubbed clean, the walls cleared of any lingering foreign magic, and the runic circle had been meticulously carved into the ground, each line etched with absolute precision.
Every ingredient, every component that would be required for the ritual had been accounted for. Potions lay in vials, neatly arranged by purpose, some to enhance magical resonance, others to stabilize the process. Small bowls filled with rare crushed minerals sat beside them, ready to be used at the right moment. Candles had been set in precise positions, their wicks waiting to be lit.
Despite the exhaustion in their bones, none of the Order members retired early that night. Some lingered to triple-check the warding spells surrounding the chamber, while others sat in tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
A heavy sense of anticipation had settled over Grimmauld Place. The ritual was happening tomorrow.
And then, slowly, the night gave way to dawn.
The first hints of morning filtered through the heavy curtains of 12 Grimmauld Place, pale golden light creeping into corners untouched by warmth for far too long. But despite the arrival of a new day, no one had truly rested. Sleep had been fleeting-if it had come at all-and now, with the morning sun, the ritual preparations surged forward once more, more urgent than ever.
Order members moved through the hallways with purposeful haste, some heading directly to the ritual chamber, others checking and rechecking supplies.
Inside the ritual chamber, the final touches were being made. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Bill Weasley worked side by side, activating the layered runes one by one, their wands moving in synchronized motions. With each flick of their wands, the carved symbols pulsed faintly, a ripple of ancient magic spreading outward through the stone.
Nearby, Remus Lupin knelt within the circle, his expression carefully neutral as he poured a thick, shimmering silver liquid into the carved runes. Lily followed his movements, ensuring that every symbol was filled perfectly. The potion sizzled softly upon contact, reacting to the magic imbued within the markings.
Molly Weasley, her lips pressed into a thin line, stood beside Arthur, who adjusted the placement of enchanted candles at key points around the chamber. The flickering flames cast elongated shadows on the stone walls, their warm glow contrasting with the cold anticipation in the air.
"Are you sure about this?" Arthur murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Molly exhaled sharply, adjusting the sleeves of her robe. "I have to be," she answered. "We all do."
Across the room, Sirius Black paced, his usual easy swagger absent, replaced by a stormy restlessness. His jaw clenched, fingers twitching at his sides as his eyes flickered between the glowing runes, the potion vials, the ritual circle-everything but Dumbledore.
"Bloody hell," Bill muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This is the real thing, isn't it?"
"Looks like it," Tonks replied, standing beside him, her arms crossed tightly. Her gaze flickered toward the glowing runes, the weight of the moment settling heavy in her chest. "Feels like the room itself is watching us."
And it did.
The very air seemed to hum with anticipation, thick with the weight of something unseen. The arcane symbols carved into the floor pulsed faintly, as if awakening from centuries of dormancy. The stone walls, once lifeless, now seemed to breathe in tandem with the gathered witches and wizards.
At the center of the chamber, standing just beyond the circle, Albus Dumbledore raised a hand. The movement was slight, but it was enough to silence the whispers. His piercing blue eyes swept across the room, committing every detail to memory.
This was no ordinary spellwork. This was magic far older, deeper, and more demanding than any of them had ever attempted.
Every single Order member had gathered here today. Their hearts beat with a mix of anxiety and hope-hope that this would work, hope that this would change something.
But one final issue had remained unresolved until last night:
The decision to bring the younger ones to Grimmauld Place had been one of the longest and most contested debates in the final stages of their preparations. While the ritual itself had been meticulously planned for days, this was one discussion that had no easy resolution.
Some believed the children should be sent elsewhere, away from potential danger. Their presence, even if confined upstairs, could pose an unforeseen risk if anything in the ritual went awry. Others, however, countered with the harsh reality-where could they go that was truly safe? Almost every Order member was participating, including the children's own parents, meaning there would be no capable guardian left to watch over them if they were taken elsewhere.
"Sending them away would be the smart choice," Molly had argued, her voice laced with maternal concern. "If something goes wrong, they shouldn't be anywhere near it."
"And where do you propose we send them, Molly?" Remus had countered, his voice calm but firm. "There's nowhere safer. If we send them away, we're only making them vulnerable elsewhere."
That had been the strongest counterpoint. Grimmauld Place was heavily warded, layered with enchantments upon enchantments, and for the duration of the ritual, additional protections would ensure nothing would seep beyond the chamber.
Dumbledore had been silent through much of the discussion, allowing each argument to be made before he finally spoke. His voice, calm yet resolute, settled the debate:
"The children will remain here, upstairs. Additional wards will be placed around their rooms, ensuring nothing from the ritual chamber can reach them. The protections will hold. And should anything unexpected occur... we will deal with it."
And so, the decision was made.
And here they were -- the members of Order in ritual room while, the children remained behind locked and warded doors, unaware of the depth of magic about to be unleashed below them.
It was a compromise-one they all could live with, or at least, one they hoped they wouldn't come to regret.
The chamber was silent, save for the flickering of candle flames and the rhythmic pulses of magic that thrummed beneath their feet. The weight of the moment settled heavy upon every individual present, a mixture of anticipation, anxiety, and resolute determination pressing against their chests like an unseen force.
They stood in formation, gathered in a perfect circle around the ritual markings carved meticulously into the stone floor. The members of the Order of the Phoenix had assembled, each one standing at their designated position, their expressions varying from grim focus to quiet apprehension.
James and Lily Potter stood side by side, their hands almost brushing as they waited. Frank and Alice Longbottom were nearby, their postures tense but their eyes unwavering. Sirius Black, uncharacteristically silent, shifted his weight from foot to foot, his grey eyes fixed on the ancient runes before him. Remus Lupin stood with measured stillness, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides.
Marlene Black nee McKinnon, kept her gaze locked on the glowing runes, while Nymphadora Tonks-her hair a deep, muted brown, reflecting her somber mood-stood beside Kingsley Shacklebolt. Arthur and Molly Weasley were positioned further down the circle, their sons, Bill and Charlie, standing close.
Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody remained unmoving, his magical eye scanning the chamber for even the faintest trace of instability. Minerva McGonagall, her lips pressed in a thin line, stood with a rigid grace, while Severus Snape loomed in his place, his dark eyes unreadable.
At the center of them all, standing just beyond the outermost runes, was Albus Dumbledore.
His piercing blue eyes swept across the room, taking in each and every one of them, measuring their resolve, ensuring that none wavered before what they were about to do.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet yet firm, the kind of tone that demanded attention.
"After a week of preparation, we stand here today," he began, his gaze shifting from one Order member to the next. "Every precaution has been taken. Every detail accounted for. The ritual is in place, and the protections have been reinforced." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle over them. "Magic such as this has always required more than mere incantations. It demands intent. It demands purpose. And, most importantly, it demands a connection-a force to power it."
A hush fell over the chamber as he continued.
"We shall provide that power," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying the gravity of the moment. "A drop of our blood-willingly given-shall serve as both the conduit and the catalyst. It will bind us not only to the magic but to one another, ensuring that this ritual is sustained by our collective strength."
A shared glance passed between the assembled witches and wizards. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across their faces, accentuating the tension that hung in the air. No one spoke immediately, yet the weight of the decision pressed upon them all.
They had known this was coming, had understood what it would take. And yet, now that the moment was truly upon them, a quiet sort of trepidation settled into their bones.
Dumbledore let the silence stretch for a moment before he asked, his voice carrying a quiet finality, "Are you all sure? This is your last chance to step away. Once we begin, there is no turning back."
A heartbeat passed.
Then another.
And then James Potter broke the silence.
"No," he said, his voice steady. "We've spent the past week putting this together. We are not backing out now."
Lily, standing beside him, nodded. "We wouldn't have come this far if we weren't certain."
One by one, the others followed suit.
Frank Longbottom gave a firm nod. Alice, her chin lifted, echoed his certainty.
Sirius huffed out a quiet breath and smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes. "If you think after I brought up this idea of ritual I would back out now, you don't know me at all."
Marlene crossed her arms. "We're in this together."
Arthur and Molly exchanged a brief glance before Arthur spoke. "We're ready."
Charlie and Bill, standing at their parents' side, silently signaled their agreement.
Even Severus Snape, his expression unreadable, inclined his head in affirmation.
Dumbledore observed them all carefully before he gave a slow nod.
"Very well."
With a fluid motion, he withdrew a silver ritual knife from the folds of his robe. The blade gleamed under the dim candlelight, its surface engraved with old runes-symbols of sacrifice, connection, and intent.
"This blade has been consecrated for the ritual," Dumbledore explained. "Each of us will offer a single drop of blood. This will bind our magic to the ritual's foundation, stabilizing its framework."
He lifted the knife and, without hesitation, pricked the tip of his index finger. A single drop of blood welled up before falling onto the rune before him. As soon as it made contact with the carved symbols, the runes pulsed faintly, as though absorbing the essence of his magic.
Then, without another word, he turned and extended the blade toward Minerva McGonagall.
McGonagall, her expression unreadable, accepted the knife with both hands. With the same measured precision, she repeated the process, allowing a drop of her own blood to fall onto the runes. The symbols pulsed once more.
One by one, they followed the ritual's demand.
Remus Lupin pricked his finger and watched as his blood joined the others, his amber eyes dark with thought. Kingsley Shacklebolt, his face impassive, did the same, followed by Arthur and Molly.
Sirius hesitated for the briefest of moments before muttering, "Well, here goes nothing," and let his own blood drip onto the stone.
Snape, ever silent, pressed his blade to his fingertip and let his blood fall without so much as a flicker of emotion.
The process continued, each drop of blood merging with the ritual circle, strengthening its magic.
As the last member completed the offering, a shift rippled through the air.
The magic in the room exhaled. The runes, now alight with the combined power of every witch and wizard present, began to glow with an ethereal luminescence, bathing the chamber in an otherworldly light.
Then, they began to chant.
Their voices rose in unison, chanting the incantation carefully woven for this moment. The words, seemingly innocent, carried a hidden intent-guidance, revelation, and a call for help, though none of them fully understood what they had invoked.
"Visus ostende, iter ostende... Nos quaerimus, sed non solum. Audite vocem, videamus veritatem..."
With every syllable, the runes glowed brighter. The air itself thickened, pressing down on their shoulders with an invisible force, making their breaths come shorter. It was not just the weight of magic; it was the weight of something vast, something beyond comprehension.
The flames in the chamber, once flickering dimly, roared to life, casting elongated shadows against the stone walls. The chanting continued, voices rising in harmony, yet with every word spoken, the air became heavier still-like the very room was folding in on itself.
By the time they uttered the final word, the pressure had reached its peak, pressing against their ribs, sinking into their bones.
For a long, breathless moment, no one moved.
They stood still, hearts pounding, eyes flickering between the glowing runes and each other.
Then, all at once-
The weight lifted.
The runes dimmed instantly.
The flames shrank back to normal.
A stunned silence filled the chamber.
Nothing happened.
A minute passed. Then another.
The tension in the room deflated like a punctured balloon.
Then, Snape's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"How utterly predictable." His tone dripped with disdain, dark eyes narrowing as he observed the now lifeless runes. "What else could be expected when Black is the one proposing the ritual?"
Sirius turned sharply, glaring at the Potions Master. "Care to repeat that, Snivellus?" His voice was as sharp as a dagger. Yet beneath his irritation, disappointment flickered in his eyes. He had truly hoped this would work.
Around the room, similar expressions of frustration and quiet defeat spread among the participants. They had invested time, energy, and magic into this ritual. And for what?
Before anyone could speak further-
The candles flared violently.
A collective gasp filled the room as every candle flame surged upward, stretching unnaturally high.
Then, the shimmering liquid they had poured onto the runes-the potion meant to serve as the medium-suddenly lifted into the air. Droplets rose, weightless, as if drawn by an unseen force.
"What in Merlin's name-" Moody muttered, reaching for his wand on instinct.
The droplets hovered, suspended, then began to move.
Slow at first. A gentle swirling motion.
Then faster.
Faster.
The room filled with gasps as the droplets spun at dizzying speed, forming a vortex of liquid magic. The swirling mass gathered at the chamber's center, expanding, condensing-until it took the shape of a large, shimmering sphere.
Every breath in the room hitched.
Before they could even process what was happening-
A deep, rumbling tremor shook the ground.
The walls of the ritual chamber quivered, the force strong enough to make them stumble, though none fell.
Another tremor.
Then another.
Crack.
The unmistakable sound of something breaking.
Then another crack.
And another.
A shudder of alarm ran through the group. Bill's sharp intake of breath was the first vocalization of true fear. "The enchantments-" he murmured, eyes scanning the room. "The wards just broke."
The weight of his words struck like a hammer.
The wards had been meticulously placed to contain the ritual's magic. If they had broken-
"The magic is spreading beyond the chamber," Minerva whispered, her face paling.
A sickening realization dawned upon them.
If the protective barriers around this room had shattered, what of the wards upstairs? The ones safeguarding the children?
Before the thought could fully sink in-
A final, earth-shattering tremor struck.
The force of it was enough to send them all staggering, clutching onto each other for balance. The air was so thick with energy now that it crackled against their skin, as if the very magic of the room had reached its breaking point.
Then-the screams.
Piercing, panicked cries echoed down from above.
Lily's heart clenched at the unmistakable voices of Charles and Rose. Sirius went rigid as he recognized Lyra's terrified wail. Other parents paled, dread gripping their very souls.
They turned toward the exit, instincts screaming at them to run.
But-
"STOP!"
Dumbledore's voice cut through the chaos, loud and commanding. His piercing blue eyes were sharp with urgency. "No one steps outside the runic circle!"
The force of his words froze them in place.
"The ritual is still in motion," he continued, voice steady yet firm. "You have poured your blood and magic into this. You are bound to it. If you step out now, the consequences could be disastrous."
A tense, agonizing pause.
"But our children-" Molly's voice cracked.
Dumbledore met her gaze, grave yet unwavering. "I understand your fear, but breaking the ritual prematurely could make this worse."
Moody let out a growl. "Worse? What part of this is going right, Dumbledore?"
Snape sneered. "A fine mess we've found ourselves in, haven't we?"
But no one could afford to argue now.
The tremors hadn't stopped. The energy in the room still crackled, unstable and chaotic. And upstairs-the children were screaming.
Then-
Footsteps.
Rushing. Thundering. Coming down the stairs.
Lily's breath hitched.
"No..." She whispered. Her voice was barely audible over the rising tension. "They- they're coming downstairs."
Molly clutched her chest. "That's not possible. The wards were meant to-"
Bill inhaled sharply, realization dawning. "If the wards here broke, they must have broken upstairs, too."
Lily shook her head in disbelief. "No. No, this isn't right. The wards there weren't just passive barriers-they were protective. If they broke, it means the magic reached that far. It means-"
A horrifying thought struck them all at once.
"Just how far has the magic spread?"
Before anyone could respond-
The heavy wooden doors burst open.
The children-disheveled, breathless, and wide-eyed with terror-rushed inside.
The adults could only stare in frozen shock.
At the entrance of the ritual room stood,
Charles Potter, his younger sister Rose Potter, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley, Fred and George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Orion Black, his younger sister Lyra Black-and Harry Potter.
Each child bore a different expression, varying degrees of shock and unease clear on their faces.
Neville stood stiff and pale, his fingers twitching by his sides as though suppressing the urge to bolt. Charles and Orion, both normally confident, had their mouths slightly open, eyes darting across the ritual chamber with poorly concealed apprehension.
Ron and Ginny looked absolutely bewildered, while Fred and George-despite their usual bravado-remained uncharacteristically silent, their gazes flickering between the adults and the massive floating water sphere in the center of the chamber.
Luna Lovegood, however, remained as composed as ever. Her wide blue eyes, dreamy and knowing, held no trace of fear. She stood slightly apart from the others, her expression unreadable, yet oddly serene.
And then there was Harry Potter.
Unlike the others, he was not looking at the adults-not even at his parents. His gaze had immediately snapped toward the intricate runes etched onto the floor. His sharp green eyes, glinting in the dim light, took in every curve and symbol, absorbing their meaning. Outwardly, his posture was composed-calm, almost detached-but in his eyes, there was worry.
Yet, unlike Neville or Charles, his worry was not of fear, but of caution.
He stood slightly apart from the group, closer to Luna.
A heavy silence stretched between them all before, at last, one of the children spoke.
"What the hell is going on here?!"
The outburst shattered the tension like a whip crack.
It was Rose Potter.
Her voice was sharp with disbelief as she took an instinctive step forward, her fiery red hair seeming to spark under the flickering torches. Her eyes darted between the Order members, demanding an answer.
"The entire house is shaking, and now-now this?!" she gestured wildly to the runes beneath the adults' feet and then to the enormous suspended water sphere, which pulsed ominously in the air. "What are you even doing?!"
Her words seemed to snap everyone out of their trance.
James exhaled slowly, his hand tightening around his wand. "You shouldn't be here."
"Yeah, well, we are," Orion snapped, his voice edged with something between fear and defiance.
"What... what is that thing?" Lyra whispered, her voice barely above a breath, gripping Orion's sleeve.
Before any of the adults could answer, the runes etched into the floor flared again, casting long, eerie shadows along the walls. The energy in the air was almost suffocating, pressing down on them like an invisible weight.
Neville paled, looking like he wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room. Ginny's fingers twitched by her side, her breath uneven, but she held her ground. Hermione's expression was caught between scientific curiosity and sheer unease.
"We shouldn't be here," Ron muttered, shifting nervously, as if expecting the room itself to swallow them whole.
"Yeah....It's too late for that," Fred finally spoke, his voice quieter lacking its usual hilarity.
A sharp intake of breath from Molly Weasley broke through the rising tension. "Are you all alright?" she asked, her voice laced with motherly concern as her eyes scanned over her children.
But before any of the children could properly respond, a soft, dreamy voice floated through the room.
"The call has been answered," Luna Lovegood murmured.
The chamber fell silent once more.
Her words, though quiet, carried an eerie certainty that made every adult in the room freeze. The Order members stared at her, eyes widening in shock.
No one outside of the ritual circle should have known that. No one should have even been aware of what was being attempted tonight.
And yet, Luna Lovegood had spoken as if she knew exactly what was happening.
She blinked serenely, tilting her head slightly. "You sought guidance, and now it shall be given."
A heavy pause.
Then-
"Luna, this isn't the time for your delusional nonsense!" Charles snapped, irritation clear in his voice. His nerves were fraying, and the last thing he wanted to hear was one of Luna's cryptic remarks.
Harry, however, did not dismiss her words so easily.
He had barely spoken since entering the chamber, but now, his sharp green eyes locked onto Luna's face, observing her closely.
While he barely knew Luna Lovegood, he had always been aware of her peculiar way of speaking. People often dismissed her as odd-but Harry had learned to pay attention.
And now, as he studied the expressions of the adults around them-the sheer shock, the disbelief at Luna's words-he realized something important.
Luna had hit the mark.
Before anyone could question her further, the water sphere suddenly expanded violently-
Then, without warning-
A force slammed into them all.
It was as though an invisible hand had seized every person standing within the runic circle and shoved them backward.
Gasps filled the air as several people stumbled, some even collapsing onto the cold stone floor, completely unprepared for the invisible force. The children, caught in the sudden magical backlash, nearly lost their balance-though some adults, like Dumbledore and Moody, managed to brace themselves in time.
"What the hell-?!" Ron Weasley blurted out, scrambling to regain his footing.
"Nobody move!" Sirius barked, his sharp tone immediately silencing further outbursts. His gaze flickered toward the runic circle, his hand tightening around his wand. "We have no idea what just happened. Stay where you are."
Marlene's protective instincts kicked in as she pulled Lyra and Orion away from the runic circle.
Lily and James immediately moved toward their children, eyes scanning them for any harm. Molly was already fussing over the Weasleys, Hermione and Luna checking each one as they gathered themselves.
Alice and Frank Longbottom checked over Neville for any injuries.
Through it all, Harry remained where he had been, untouched.
Not a single person had reached for him.
And he didn't move to change that.
He exhaled, eyes still locked onto the sphere, his expression unreadable.
For several long moments, everyone remained frozen, staring at the runic markings on the ground-half-expecting something else to happen.
Then, after a tense pause, the water sphere in the center of the ritual chamber began to change.
It shimmered.
Then it pulsed.
And then-
The entire surface shifted, stretching outward-until the ball of water transformed into a massive screen, a floating water-like mirror, hanging at an angle where everyone could see it.
A heavy silence gripped the chamber as all eyes locked onto the screen.
Something was happening.
Something big.
Everyone stood still, holding their breath.
Then-
The screen glowed.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Every breath was held.
And with their hearts pounding in their chests, they simply watched.