The kitchen of the ancient Black family home was packed with Order of the Phoenix members. A palpable sense of impending battle pressed down heavily on every soul present, making the very air feel thick and difficult to breathe.
A sharp crack split the stagnant air without warning, and every head in the crowded room turned simultaneously toward the wooden door at the top of the narrow stairs leading up to the entrance hall.
With a loud grating screech of hinges, Kingsley Shacklebolt's tall figure stepped into view, ducking slightly to avoid hitting his bald head on the low doorframe.
"How have you been lately, Kingsley? We've barely seen you these past weeks."
Remus rose courteously from his seat at the head of the long table, watching with a warm smile as Kingsley walked down the stairs and exchanged brief greetings with the other Order members.
"I mean—how does it feel, being Head of the Auror Office? Living up to the title?"
The question was tinged with interest and a trace of playful teasing.
"Sorry I'm so late arriving—"
Kingsley exhaled heavily and shook his head with weariness. His usually steady, strong voice carried a raw edge of deep exhaustion.
"I've just come directly from Upper Flagley, a small village up north. When the Muggle police force there were conducting their routine census of a village with a mixed wizarding and Muggle population, they discovered something disturbing: an elderly woman living alone in a cottage on the outskirts had gone missing without explanation—and there were significant bloodstains throughout her old house."
Kingsley pulled out a chair with a scraping sound and sat down heavily, addressing the room which had gone completely quiet around him, every face was turned toward him with dread anticipation.
"The Muggle officers believe it was a simple burglary gone wrong, with the perpetrator panicking after the violence and destroying whatever evidence they could afterward. But the Ministry knows better—"
He paused. "The Ministry knows that old woman was a witch."
"Any sign of the Dark Mark, Kingsley? Was it left floating over the house?"
Moody rasped from his position across the room, his magical eye were spinning independently to fix on Kingsley while his normal eye remained watchful of the door.
"No Dark Mark—"
Kingsley shook his head slowly.
"I inspected the house personally, went over every inch of it. I'm absolutely convinced that a highly skilled Dark wizard passed through there recently—"
He let out a soft frustrated sigh.
"Murder cases and violent robberies everywhere you look these days. Every morning brings new reports. Even with Minister Bones having the foresight to intensely expand the Hit Wizard squads—we simply don't have enough hands to investigate everything properly. Cases are going cold because we can't get to them in time."
"These past few days I've been assigned to close protection for Amelia, staying at her side constantly—"
Sirius leaned forward at the table, his knuckles pressed under his sharp chin, his face showed grim lines.
"She's tearing her hair out over the crime rates too, working eighteen-hour days trying to manage it all. There genuinely aren't enough trained people to station permanent guards in every area with any kind of wizarding presence. She's managed to post some security forces in the densest population spots—Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade Village, St Mungo's Hospital but that's literally all she can manage. Everywhere else is vulnerable."
"These Dark wizards are like rats breeding in the sewers—they're everywhere you turn!"
Moody grunted with disgust and scratched at his nose with one finger.
"Has Bryan got that clever head of his working on solutions? Or Dumbledore? Surely, they've got some kind of plan?"
"I had a chat with Bryan just yesterday—we touched on this exact problem—"
Arthur Weasley rubbed his temples slowly with both hands, his balding head was gleaming in the candlelight. His face also showed the strain of too many late nights at the Ministry.
"I could tell he has some ideas brewing, definitely. But he seems to be deliberately holding back, restraining himself. His methods, as you all know, have always leaned toward the... extreme. Perhaps they're not suited to the current political situation, with Amelia trying to establish legitimacy."
Heavy silence fell over the cramped kitchen like a suffocating blanket.
The current state of the wizarding world could only be accurately described as absolutely catastrophic—balanced on the edge of total collapse.
On one hand, Voldemort and his inner circle of Death Eaters were not yet fully active in any organized way.
But in their trail, like scavengers following a predator, a rising tide of homegrown and foreign dark elements had emerged from the shadows. Some were acting alone as opportunistic criminals taking advantage of the chaos. Others were clearly organized, operating in deliberate and coordinated campaigns specifically designed to fracture wizarding order and spread fear.
Law and order had not improved in the least since Fudge's removal from office. If anything—it had actually worsened considerably.
On the other hand, while Bryan had been decisive and swift in forcing through Madam Bones's emergency appointment as Acting Minister, the aggressive move had sent significant ripples out through every level of wizarding society.
Domestically, the ancient pure-blood families who controlled the economic arteries of wizarding Britain had been extremely quick to stir troubled waters, spreading doubt and resistance.
Internationally, the Ministry's active coup d'état had deeply unsettled wizarding governments, commercial workshops, and major enterprises across the rest of Europe. The precedent was terrifying to anyone with power: if it could happen in Britain, it could happen anywhere.
Foreign capital investment had grown far more cautious and conservative about its British dealings, pulling back significantly.
Even with Bryan Watson and Albus Dumbledore personally standing behind the political change, investors remained extremely wary—afraid that the unprecedented methods used against the escaped Azkaban prisoners might one day be turned on them. After all, who among the wealthy and powerful was completely clean when examined closely?
"In short, I'm not holding my breath for any significant improvement in the crime situation in the near term—"
Kingsley sighed again with resignation and determination. Then he straightened in his chair, his dark eyes swept the gathered Order members with intensity.
"But we should talk about the transport operation scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Bryan, Dumbledore, and Minister Bones called a special security meeting about it this afternoon."
"What's the operational plan?"
Bill asked tensely with concentration. His long red hair was tied back, and his coat creaked as he leaned forward.
"My goblin contact at Gringotts told me through our back channels that they've already started quietly consolidating the seized gold from the lower vaults, moving it all to secure staging areas."
"That's right—"
Kingsley nodded confirmation, then laid out the plan with precision.
"Here's what's been arranged. The day after tomorrow, the Department of Magical Transportation will deploy three Hogwarts Express trains, departing from Diagon Alley's small platform station at six, seven, and eight in the morning respectively, each leaving at its precisely scheduled time. The trains will carry the seized gold to London."
He paused to let that sink in.
"The first train will be escorted exclusively by Ministry Aurors. The Order of the Phoenix is responsible for providing security for the second train. As for the third train—"
He hesitated noticeably, his expression showing some discomfort.
"The Ministry has brought in some highly capable bounty wizards from the continent. Mercenaries, basically."
"Bounty wizards? Mercenaries?"
Remus said with surprise, his eyebrows rose toward his hairline. A murmur of shock and disapproval ran through the rest of the Order members at this unexpected and somewhat unpleasant detail.
But Remus seemed to realize almost immediately who those particular bounty wizards were likely to be—which specific group had that kind of reputation and skill. His expression shifted to understanding, and he gave a quiet, knowing cough.
"What happens once the gold reaches London safely? How will it be secured there?"
"Bryan says he'll be waiting personally at King's Cross station with another contingent of Hit Wizards to receive all three trains as they arrive," Kingsley answered.
"And what about Dumbledore?" Moody growled. "What's he planning to do during all this?"
"Minister Bones has specifically asked Dumbledore to remain on constant guard at the Ministry itself throughout the entire operation—"
Kingsley continued.
"To ensure the gold arrives safely at its destination, every single available Hit Wizard and combat-ready Auror in Britain will be deployed on the actual transport operation.
That's an enormous concentration of our defensive forces in one place.
If Voldemort decides to strike the Ministry directly while our defenses are stretched so thin, the results could be absolutely disastrous. Someone powerful has to hold the Ministry. That someone is Dumbledore."
The atmosphere in the kitchen became electric with tension. The Order members argued fiercely and passionately over every single detail of the day-after-tomorrow's dangerous operation—small, easily-overlooked particulars were carefully surfaced and debated at exhaustive length.
Upstairs on the fourth floor, pressed against the floorings with their Extendable Ears—Surveillance Edition dangling down through gaps, Harry and his friends listened with growing dread and fascination to every word.
Without anyone in the kitchen quite noticing the passage of time, the hour had crept deep into the night.
Kingsley finally rose from his chair. Before leaving, he addressed the Order one final time with grave formality:
"The Ministry will seal off all access to Diagon Alley from every possible direction for a three-hour window surrounding the operation. The Department of Transportation will have strict control over the entire Floo Network during that period—absolutely no one gets through a fireplace into Diagon Alley, no exceptions.
The Anti-Disapparition Jinx will be active at maximum strength across the entire area, so Apparating in or out is completely impossible. And all Portkeys are under close Ministry surveillance as well—we'll know immediately if anyone tries to use one."
His dark eyes scanned the room one last time. "This is as secure as we can make it. But stay alert. Stay alive."
The moon had risen high in the black sky outside. Endless dark countryside extended beyond the house's dirty windows with the persistent shriek and drone of summer insects calling to each other in the warm night.
The Order members left one by one through various means. In the end, only the Weasley family and Remus remained in the house—they were staying here at Grimmauld Place for the duration.
Sirius flicked his wand and a dusty bottle of expensive firewhisky drifted smoothly out of the air from some hidden cupboard and landed gently in his outstretched hand.
He poured a generous measure into four glasses. He distributed them to Arthur, Molly, and Remus, then raised his own glass high.
"To survival," he said quietly, and drained it in a single long swallow.
"How has Amelia been doing lately, really?"
Sirius let out a long, slow breath and looked at Remus.
"She's away in Germany on business at the moment—"
Remus answered, holding his own glass without drinking.
"There are some of our international suppliers for the Learning Machine Workshop who've been extremely nervous because of Fudge's sudden fall. Questions rose about stability, about whether contracts will be honored. Amelia volunteered to go negotiate with them personally on my behalf to reassure them."
Sirius nodded slowly and fell silent, staring into his empty glass.
"She's a remarkable witch, truly remarkable—"
After a long pause, Remus studied Sirius's face carefully.
"If you find her... remarkable in other ways—"
"We'll talk about that another time, Remus—"
Sirius drew a short, sharp breath and shook his head gently, cutting off that line of conversation. He turned his grey eyes to Mrs. Weasley instead.
"Molly, could you do something for me? A favor?"
Mrs. Weasley's kind face immediately furrowed with concern.
"This isn't like you at all, Sirius—you're never this polite about asking for things."
Her effort at joking fell flat. She could see something was wrong.
Sirius offered no retort or teasing comeback. In the dim amber light of the guttering candles, the sharp lines of his face seemed gentler than usual.
He smiled then reached slowly into the pocket of his robes. After a moment, he drew out a thick envelope, turned it between his fingers once, twice, and held it out to Mrs. Weasley.
"Am I to pass this on to someone specific, Sirius?"
The others were all watching him now, deeply unsettled by something in his manner. Mrs. Weasley asked haltingly.
"It's for Harry—"
Sirius said, and his voice was very calm, showing no emotions.
"If I don't come back from the operation the day after tomorrow, I'd be grateful if you'd put this in his hands."
Clang!
Up on the fourth floor, in the dim and lightless room where they'd been eavesdropping, with Hermione, Ron, the twins, and Ginny all looking on in stunned, horrified silence—
Harry his face drained completely of all color until he looked like a ghost, dropped the Extendable Ear from his fingers. The magical device clattered loudly against the wooden floorings.
He stumbled backward away from the sound, away from what he'd just heard, and slammed hard into the wall behind him.
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