Daphne's Gift

With a sigh of relief, Harry fell back onto his bed. It had been a long, eventful, and informative day. Not even his first visit to Diagon Alley had left him feeling as drained as he was. First, there had been the trip to Gringotts where he had learned, among other things, that he had been intentionally kept in the dark regarding his family by Dumbledore. The Dursleys keeping him in the dark made sense, albeit twisted. They feared and hated magic, and somehow believed that keeping him ignorant would keep him from learning about magic.

But Dumbledore's actions didn't make sense. He was supposed to be the leader of the Light, and more than that, he was supposed to be someone his parents trusted. Why would he keep him in the dark regarding his family? It hurt his head just trying to conceive of a reason, no matter how twisted, to explain Dumbledore's actions.

Looking at his hand, he felt a glimmer of pride and smug satisfaction when he looked at the signet ring. A gold ring with a dragon emblazoned on it, it signified to the magical world he was the Lord Potter now. So much for being 'just Harry.' But the more he thought about it, the more he had to admit, he was starting to like the idea of being a Lord. He now had a seat in the Wizengamot, which he had yet to claim or appoint a proxy, and he officially outranked that greasy git Malfoy. The idea of making him 'play nice' with a Lord, lest he degrade his own family, did give Harry a feeling of vindictive satisfaction.

It wouldn't be as good as the time Hermione punched him in their third year, but a win was a win.

Then there was the matter of the extensive list of Potter properties. Simply put, the Potter family had been one of the biggest proponents of the British Empire and had secured holdings in every part of the world the Empire once held. And as an Empire on which the sun never set, that meant he had properties all over the globe. New England, Canada, the Caribbean, the Mediterranean, the Middle East, East Asia, Africa and Oceania. It was a staggering number of properties, the sheer list of which left his head spinning.

This massive list of properties also came with an equally impressive list of businesses both within Britain and in the wider world the Potters had investments, shares, or owned outright. Frankly, if he wanted to, he could quit school now, travel the world living like a king, and not even put a dent in his finances even if he lived 150 years. And he had to admit, it was tempting to consider. Leave Britain now, take his family and friends with him, and enjoy life in comfort and security. Let Voldemort and his Death Eaters have Britain, they'd only destroy themselves in the long run.

But he couldn't do that. For one, Voldemort would never stop hunting him. His pride would never allow the one responsible for beating him three separate times, four if he counted the shadow in the Chamber of Secrets, to live free and easy. Two, he felt like he'd be insulting his parents by running away from the one responsible for their deaths. Voldemort had to pay. Simple as that. And three, there was no way he could, in good conscience, abandon so many others to the predations of the Death Eaters. Even if they collapsed on themselves within a year, that was still plenty of time for innocents to be tortured and killed for the entertainment of those sick bastards.

That was why he would stay. Regardless of what the Ministry claims, he'd fight Voldemort. He'd beat him. And when it was done, he'd kick Fudge in the nuts for almost getting Sirius killed.

Then he'd ask Hermione to marry him.

Smirking, he looked at the wardrobe now filled with fresh clothes, both magical and muggle, that had been acquired on their trip to London. People say that the carts in Gringotts are intentionally designed to be uncomfortable for magicals, but the goblins were amateurs compared to the absolute torture session that was... ugh... clothes shopping.

"How bad is it?"

Dumbledore stood in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. In front of him was his Potions Master and spy within the Death Eaters, Severus Snape. His face had been completely wrapped in bandages, with only the tip of his nose, and a few tufts of hair, sticking out. The result of a recent accident in his private lab had resulted in his current state. But what confused him was how his arm was shaking and jolting.

"Not as bad as it could be. Severe burns across his face mean he'll be wearing those bandages for a month at minimum, possibly the entire summer. At the moment I've got him under the Draught of Living Death. It's the only thing that allows him to rest."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Poppy's words. "What exactly was he doing in his lab?"

"Oh, it's not the burns that are the cause of his pain, Albus. It's whatever's being done to him through the Mark. The attacks are still coming, and the randomness of them means I can't predict them, and the pain they cause him would disrupt the healing process. He needs his rest."

"Ah, I see. Will he be bedridden the entire time, or will he be able to leave the Hospital Wing?"

Poppy huffed in response. "We'll see, Albus. Much as I would prefer keeping him here under supervision, the burns may be the only result of the accident. If that's the case, I might be willing to let him leave the Hospital Wing. MIGHT."

"Thank you, Poppy. I understand your concerns, but..."

"I know he's your spy, Albus. I'm more worried about what will happen if he decides to resume his duties as Potions Master. If he has another attack while brewing a more complicated potion..."

"I know, Poppy. I know." Albus rubbed his temple, grim memories of potion accidents in prior years rising to the surface. The results of said accidents ranged from the painful to the horrific. The fact there was no way to block the attacks, or at least predict when they would come, meant every time he prepared a potion he was putting himself in severe danger. Even worse, what if the attack occurred during a lesson? Never mind the danger to himself, the students themselves might be at risk if the attack occurs during preparation.

Not only was he unable to keep track of Tom's actions, but he might very well need a new Potions Master on top of a new Defence teacher.

The only upside to this situation was the Death Eaters were hindered by the attacks. That just raised another question: what would Tom do next?

Amelia looked up from her desk to see Scrimgeour entering her office, a parchment scroll in hand. The look on his face was serious enough to raise her interest, but not enough to worry her. He wasn't rushing, instead walking at a brisk pace.

"What do you have for me?"

"A recent medical report from Azkaban."

That got Amelia's attention.

"Oh?"

"You're aware of the recent attacks on some of our... ahem, 'upstanding citizens' I trust?"

"Of course. It's half the reason Lucius hasn't shown himself for more than a few minutes at a time since summer began, along with the death or severe injury of a dozen Lords of the Wizengamot, and more than a few Ministry employees."

"Well, it's also affecting the prisoners in Azkaban. You might want to see this." Scrimgeour handed Amelia the scroll, who took it with increasing curiosity. Unrolling it, she looked over the report and nearly felt her eyes bulge out of her skull. "Eight of the Death Eaters in Azkaban are dead or suffering severe brain damage. As it stands, only Bellatrix Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood are alive and, relatively, unharmed."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but how did this happen?"

"According to the warden, the inmates either tried knocking themselves unconscious to escape the pain or in their pain injured themselves accidentally. Out of curiosity, why would you be afraid to ask?"

"Because I was worried I might feel sorry for them. Hmm. Are the injured still being held at Azkaban?"

"Yes, and kept under close watch by the guards as healers tend to them. Some of them might recover, albeit with reduced mental capabilities, while the others are likely to be in a vegetative state for the remainder of their natural lives."

"It's nice to get good news from Azkaban for a change. But what about Bellatrix and Augustus? Much as my skin crawls from the idea of trying to 'help' those two, I don't want them escaping their punishment through death, accidental or intentional."

"The warden's already added charms to their cells to keep them from hitting their heads on any hard surface. As it stands, short of biting off their tongues, there's little chance of them committing suicide at this point."

"Good enough for me. Thank you, Scrimgeour. It's nice to be brought good news once in a while."

Scrimgeour grinned as he bowed. "I'm happy to be the bearer of gentle tidings. For once at least."

Amelia chuckled as he left her office. Assuming her special team comes through with their appointed task, she might soon have even more good news delivered to her. Hopefully, she could stop the damage caused by Fudge's corruption and cowardice before it became irreversible.

Hermione scowled as she read the latest issue of the Daily Prophet. The news, if it could even be called that, had been running libellous articles ever since the Third Task. It was bad enough that Fudge had denied Voldemort's return and had Pettigrew and Crouch Jr. Kissed before they could be questioned, but now it seemed his influence had reached the media. The latest article titled 'The Boy Who Lies' was nothing more than an attention-hungry child, milking his fame for adulation and accolades.

The nerve of these people! She had hoped that with Rita restrained thanks to Harry's contract with her, the news might see some genuine improvement. Instead, they were running propaganda pieces for the Ministry. The only upside to the situation was Harry didn't have a subscription to the Prophet, so he didn't have to deal with filth like this.

Thus far, this had been the best summer since she began attending Hogwarts. Right now, it was the 19th of July, with Harry's birthday just under two weeks away. Since the start of summer, she had been visiting Harry or meeting up with him in London, enjoying the sights that were so familiar to her, but so foreign to him because of the gits he was forced to live with thanks to Dumbledore. The news he had been intentionally keeping Harry in the dark about his family did not sit well with her, especially when she realized he might have had a chance to get away from them sooner.

The phrase 'bars on the window' came up more than she was comfortable with.

Still, she shouldn't gripe. She was having breakfast with her family, and as vile as the Prophet was becoming, it shouldn't distract her from-

Ding Dong!

"Ah, don't get up. I'll get it." Hermione's mother spoke up, heading off her daughter as she left the kitchen, a towel in hand. As she continued to read, Hermione strained her ears to listen.

"Oh, hello. Can I help you?"

"Hello, Emma." Hermione perked up hearing that voice. "My name is Sirius Black, I'm Harry's godfather. Do you mind if I come in?"

Hermione set the paper aside and rushed to the front door. There, standing at the entrance was indeed Sirius Black, wearing a leather motorcycle jacket and black sunglasses. He perked up at seeing Hermione.

"Sirius?"

"Hello, Hermione. Sorry to drop by unannounced, but Whiskers is getting antsy lately."

"Is Harry alright?" The mention of Dumbledore in regards to Harry set her on edge, even with the nickname.

"From the sound of his last letter, he seems to be alright, but he is one of the reasons I'm here."

Hermione briefly looked at him, before nodding towards her mother. Emma stepped aside, opening the door wider to allow him in. Sirius stepped through the doorway, turning his head to thank her for letting him in. When he turned back to Hermione, he found her wand aimed right at his heart.

"Tell me something only Sirius would know."

Sirius smiled before shifting to Padfoot, panting lightly before barking.

"Ok, that counts I suppose." Hermione looked up at her mother. "Mum, you can put the knife down."

Padfoot looked over his shoulder to see Emma Granger holding a cook's knife she'd been concealing with the dish towel. Grinning sheepishly, she wrapped the blade in the towel before stepping past Padfoot. When she was out of sight, Padfoot shifted back to Sirius, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

"If she wasn't married, I'd feel obliged to introduce her to Moody. Answering the door with a weapon in hand is practically standard fare for him. And I know he'd be proud of you for having your wand ready."

Hermione chuckled as she put her wand away. "We were just sitting down to breakfast. Would you like to join us, or are you in a hurry?"

"I don't want to impose, but your parents need to hear this too."

Hermione frowned at that. Whatever this was, it was important enough that Sirius seemed to be taking this... seriously. "Well, come sit down anyway. I'm sure Mum's already prepared a plate for you."

Soon Sirius was seated at the Granger's kitchen table, a plate of sausage, eggs, and toast in front of him. With a hearty thanks, he joined the Granger's breakfast routine. With breakfast soon done, Sirius sighed as he looked at Hermione.

"I'm sure you've told your parents about what happened after the Third Task?"

Hermione nodded. "About Voldemort, and how the Ministry is pretending he's still dead? Yes, I have."

Dan grunted in frustration. "It's disgusting what that coward is doing to that boy. Dragging his name through the mud so he can cover his arse."

Sirius nodded in respect for Hermione's father. "Well, despite the recent setbacks caused by the attacks, Voldemort is getting ready to make some moves."

Hermione nodded, before catching something Sirius had said. "Wait, say again. Attacks?"

"Oh, right, you probably haven't heard, but everyone who possesses the Dark Mark has been suffering some kind of attack through the Mark itself. The attacks come at random and can last for a few moments to hours at a time. Voldemort thinks Wormtail screwed up the ritual to resurrect him, but Snivellous is convinced Lily is taking her revenge on everyone who ever took the Mark." Sirius shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, I'm inclined to believe the latter. Lily could be bloody terrifying if she got angry enough."

"How bad are the attacks?"

"Pretty bad. More than a few Lords with the Mark have died in accidents caused by the pain, while others have been severely injured. Snape's face was nearly burned off because of these attacks occurring while he was brewing a potion. Merlin knows how bad it is for Voldemort himself. More to the point, despite losing a number of his followers because of the attacks, Whiskers is afraid Voldemort is going to start making moves to rebuild his army and re-establish his power base."

"If the attacks are as bad as you say, will he even be able to use his followers reliably?"

"I'm not sure. Fourteen years ago, he had huge numbers at his command, and not just witches and wizards, but all manner of dark creatures. He'll pose a significant threat if he can regain even a fraction of his old forces. Moreover, Whiskers thinks he's going to target the people Harry cares about."

"You mean me?" Dan and Emma leaned forward at Hermione's question. Neither of them was thrilled by the idea of their daughter being in danger, and both were waiting to hear what Sirius had to offer.

"Exactly. If someone posed an obstacle to Voldemort or his Death Eaters, their favourite practice was to target their loved ones, killing them when they were at their most vulnerable. More than a few families were wiped out by this practice, and it stands to reason they'll do it again. Which is why Dumbledore has asked me to bring you to the Order's headquarters."

"You mean the Order of the Phoenix?"

Sirius nodded. "I can't say the location, not right now. It's under Fidelius, so it can only be found by people if I've told them the location. It's also being magically reinforced regularly, and members are already staying there, so it's well-guarded. And before you begin arguing," Sirius reached into his jacket to pull out three mirrors, small enough to be held in one hand, "I brought these along to help convince you."

"Make-up mirrors?" Emma looked at the mirror in confusion as Sirius handed them each one.

"Communication mirrors so you can communicate with each other whenever you want. Just press the red jewel, say the name of the person you wanna talk to, and you can have a face-to-face. So to speak."

Hermione's eyes glinted with eager curiosity, wanting to look over the mirror and take in every detail. But she set that curiosity aside to focus on more important matters.

"Will Harry be moving too, or is he already there?"

Sigh "Whiskers is being annoyingly difficult on that issue, but Harry will join us on his birthday, not a second after."

"What about my parents? Will they be safe even if I'm in hiding?"

"You may not have noticed this, but pureblood types liable to join the Death Eaters aren't very familiar with the non-magical parts of Britain. They could be standing across the street from your parents and never realize who they were. But, just to be safe, a member of the Order will shadow your parents, especially at work, so if a Death Eater somehow stumbles upon them, they'll be pulled to safety immediately."

Hermione slowly nodded, processing this information. Looking at her parents, she saw the concern in their eyes, before turning back to Sirius.

"Can you give us a moment to talk about this?"

"Of course. I'll wait out front if that's alright?"

"Oh don't be silly," Emma answered as he rose from his seat. "Take a seat in the living room. We shouldn't be long."

Nodding his thanks, Sirius left the kitchen, leaving Hermione with her parents. Emma looked supportive while Dan looked... cautious.

"Dad, before you say anything-"

"I'm not going to stop you, Hermione." Hermione blinked in surprise before her father went on. "I know from first-hand experience that when you set your mind to something, nothing will stand in your way." He chuckled before continuing. "I know you want to support Harry more than anything, and I know better than to stand in your way. Just... promise me you'll be careful, Hermione. I don't want to lose you in a fight you shouldn't be part of."

Hermione wrapped her arms around him in one of her famed Hermy hugs. "I love you, Dad. I promise I'll be alright."

Emma stepped behind her daughter and wrapped her in a hug of her own. The family held the pose for minutes, sharing the moment, before Hermione stood to pack her trunk. She had a war to prepare for.

'The headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix is at 12 Grimmauld Place.'

Hermione read the strip of parchment, quickly committing it to memory before Sirius burned it to ash. Looking up, she was amazed at the sight of a townhouse simply appearing out of nowhere. She'd read about the Fidelius, but she'd never seen its effects in person. Sirius, grinning at her wide-eyed look, ushered her to the front door, which looked brand new. At their approach, it opened automatically, revealing a large hallway, painted dark red and lined with gold, brightened by the light of a large chandelier.

"Impressive."

"Trust me, this is miles better than how it was a month ago, and we're still at work."

POP!

Hermione looked down at the source of the sound to find Winky smiling up at her and Sirius. She looked much healthier than when she was at Hogwarts, and while she was still wearing a tea towel, it was much cleaner, and from the way she straightened it upon her arrival, it seemed she took great pride in wearing it.

"Master Sirius is home! Winky is happy to see Master Sirius and Miss Grangy too! Will Master Sirius be needing anything?"

"No thank you, Winky, but would you mind taking Hermione's luggage to her room?"

"Winky happy to do so!"

With a snap and pop, Hermione's trunk disappeared along with Winky. Turning to Sirius, Hermione remarked, "She's looking much better here than she was at Hogwarts."

"She's definitely adjusted well to the place, though she and Kreacher have it out for each other."

"Oh?"

"This place was decrepit a month ago, and Winky considers Kreacher a 'bad elf' for not properly caring for the building, while Kreacher calls her an 'unwanted elf' every chance he gets." With a shake of his head, he gestured to a doorway where the sounds of people talking. Stepping through the doorway, she was greeted by a large dining room, containing many faces both familiar and unfamiliar. She recognized Arthur, Molly, and Percy, along with Remus, Nymphadora, Shacklebolt, the real Alastor Moody, and Dumbledore, who she struggled not to scowl at.

"Ah, welcome Miss Granger," Dumbledore spoke calmly, silencing any prior talk. "I trust your summer has been well."

"Well enough, I suppose. So, this is the Order of the Phoenix?"

Molly frowned at that, but Dumbledore spoke before her. "I see Sirius was open to answering any questions you had."

"Hey, you know as well as I do she's as brilliant as Lily. She would have found out sooner or later." Sirius was making his way to an empty seat as he responded.

Remus interjected, "He's right, Albus. If she didn't know about the Order in advance, she'd have learned about it within a week of arriving."

Dumbledore looked briefly at Remus before sighing. "I suppose you're right. I trust your judgment, Sirius."

"Thank you. Now, what did I miss?"

"Shacklebolt, would you mind filling Sirius in? Miss Granger, if I might have a brief word with you?"

"Oh, um... alright."

Hermione backed out of the dining room, uncertain of what the Headmaster could want. When they were both in the hall, Albus closed the door and turned to Hermione, a solemn expression on his face.

"I have already informed the Weasley children, but due to the risk of owls being intercepted by the Death Eaters, you cannot write to Harry about what is going on here or what you might hear about the war against Voldemort. I'm sure you want to keep Harry informed, but we can't have vital intelligence falling into enemy hands."

Hermione crossed her arms, regarding Dumbledore with an unimpressed stare. "You're telling me not to write to my boyfriend when he knows a madman is hunting for him?"

"I am merely concerned about the possibility of the Death Eaters learning of our movements. I'm sure you understand the need for these measures, given the Death Eaters' lack of scruples in pursuit of their goals."

Hermione held her stare for a few seconds before sighing in resignation. "I'll let one of the adults read any letters before sending an owl. Does that sound fair?"

"I believe that will suffice. Thank you, Miss Granger, for your understanding. Now, I think the Weasley children are upstairs. I'm sure they'd be thrilled to see you."

With a grandfatherly smile, Dumbledore walked back into the dining room, leaving a frustrated Hermione standing in the hallway. With a disapproving sniff, she turned and walked up the stairs, listening for any signs of life. As she reached the second floor, she heard the telltale sounds of Exploding Snap. Following the noise, she opened one of the doors and found Ron, Ginny and the Twins in a cluttered-looking bedroom, playing a game of Exploding Snap. She noticed a distinct lack of singed eyebrows, so they weren't playing for long. When they heard the door opening, the Twins greeted her with glee.

"Hermione! Welcome to our humble abode!"

"Decided to slum it with the vigilantes?"

"Well, you couldn't have picked a better time!"

"Oh knock it off you two," Ginny remarked with amusement. "Good to see you, Hermione."

"You too, Ginny. Fred. George." Hermione looked down at Ron with a frustrated glare. "No owls?"

"Dumbledore gave you the 'need for security' speech too?"

"He did. Is that why neither I nor Harry have heard from you?"

"Yeah. Mum's been pretty strict on that point. I think she's convinced every letter I've tried sending has a secret message in charmed ink or something."

Hermione reluctantly stopped her glaring before smirking. "Well, I promised I'd let an adult read any letters before sending an owl..."

"Ah, brave of Miss Granger..." Fred started.

"To allow an authority figure..."

"Such power over her."

"What secrets might we uncover..."

"About our favourite pair of lions..."

"In the interest of security of course."

Hermione snorted in amusement before continuing. "Of course, I happen to know another way of getting a message to Harry."

The twins snapped their heads in her direction, as did Ginny and Ron. With a smirk, Hermione gently called out, "Gnarl."

With a pop, the elderly house elf appeared. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Would you mind having the Potter house elves listening for one of us calling for them? We're not being allowed to send owls at the moment."

"Certainly, I'll let Master Harry know. Will that be all?"

"Yes, Gnarl. Thank you."

POP!

For a full minute, silence reigned in the room, as the twins stared at Hermione with growing grins, Ginny blinked in shock... and Ron face-palmed.

"I can't believe I didn't think of trying that."

"Don't feel bad, Ronnikins," Fred began.

"After all, our dear Hermione,"

"Is the Brightest Witch,"

"Of Her Generation."

Together they finished, "And we love her for it!"