John patted Tom's head, then turned his attention back to that group of wizards in the footage.
"With Lupin and Moody there, chances are they're from the Order of the Phoenix. Here to pick up Harry?"
Thinking of Harry's Invisibility Cloak, John wasn't surprised that he hadn't seen the boy himself.
With that lineup, it was clear—the Order of the Phoenix took Harry very seriously.
"Order of the Phoenix, huh… hope I succeed." He picked up that torn scrap of fabric, still stained with the blood of the square-jawed wizard.
Holding the scrap in his right hand, John raised his left hand to hover about a foot above it.
"Recurrat astri sanguinis."
This was the trace spell. The blood on the cloth began to gather, floating into the air and slowly forming into an arrowhead.
A red thread stretched out into the void, just about to connect with the arrowhead—
The next moment, John frowned. The blood suddenly evaporated into white smoke, as if the magic had been drained out of it.
"A protective enchantment is in place."
The owner of the blood was in a place akin to a safe house. John had just barely sensed the location, but it was swiftly erased.
No matter how hard he tried to recall it now, he simply couldn't.
"The Fidelius Charm, huh?" he muttered, already having figured it out, frowning deeply.
He hadn't expected Dumbledore to move so quickly—they'd already secured a base.
He had originally planned to find a way to locate the Order of the Phoenix's hideout to better plan his future moves.
Now, it seemed he had underestimated them.
...
After some twists and turns, Harry finally arrived at his destination.
What surprised him was—it wasn't the Burrow.
Moody told him they couldn't go to the Burrow; it was too unsafe.
Using a Deluminator borrowed from Dumbledore, Moody collected all the surrounding light.
He grabbed Harry's arm, while Lupin and Tonks followed behind carrying Harry's trunk. The rest drew their wands, covering the sides.
With such a heavy escort, it seemed like only Voldemort himself could manage to kill Harry.
"This is it," Moody growled, handing Harry a piece of parchment.
Harry looked down at the parchment. The long, thin handwriting looked vaguely familiar. It read:
"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London."
He asked curiously, "What's the Phoe—"
"Not here!" Moody barked harshly. "Wait until we're inside."
He was hyper-alert, scanning their surroundings, as if expecting a Death Eater to jump out any second and hit Harry with an Avada Kedavra.
Seeing that Harry had memorized the words, he snatched the parchment back and burned it.
They were standing right in front of Number 11 Grimmauld Place. Oddly, to the left was Number 10, and to the right was Number 13.
Harry found it strange—there was no Number 12.
"Think about what you just memorized," Lupin prompted gently, in the same reassuring tone he used back when teaching at Hogwarts.
Harry focused on the phrase he'd just read, and the scene before his eyes began to change.
A battered old door appeared out of nowhere between Number 11 and Number 13. Dirty walls and gloomy windows emerged, entirely out of sync with the rest of the street.
It looked as though a house had suddenly inflated into existence, pushing the neighboring buildings apart to make room.
Harry gawked at it, stunned, as Moody urged him to get inside.
The paint on the front door was peeling, and the surface was covered in scratches.
The silver door knocker was shaped like a coiled serpent. There was no keyhole, and no mail slot.
Lupin pulled out his wand and knocked on the door. The metallic clang rang out sharply, sounding like heavy chains clattering and dragging across the floor.
The door opened.
Tonks immediately spoke up, "Merlin's beard, Podmore, could you stop moaning? You're going to get us all exposed!"
Her words drew everyone's attention to Sturgis Podmore, whose face was pale as a sheet. His lips were trembling as he let out soft, pained whimpers.
"S-sorry, I… I can't stop the bleeding."
Noticing something was wrong, Lupin leaned over to check the bloodied leg and his expression turned grim.
He finally made a diagnosis. "There's magic on the wound. It won't heal."
"Magic?" Harry was incredulous. "He was bitten by a dog."
He knew Tom all too well—that was just a normal dog.
But Lupin, a former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, wouldn't make a mistake about this.
He had recognized the severity of the magic—it wasn't just a wound. It wouldn't close, and would bleed a person out.
Moody checked as well and came to the same conclusion. "Dark magic."
They quickly helped Podmore into the house and assigned someone to clean up the blood outside.
Once inside, Sturgis Podmore could finally let go and scream. His cries of pain echoed through the house and drew others over.
But none of them noticed the car parked out on Grimmauld Place.
Inside it, Watson sat with his mouth wide open, watching as a group of people flew down from the sky on broomsticks—then vanished into thin air.
..
"What happened?"
"It's dark magic!"
"Mundungus, not now!"
"Hurry up and stop the bleeding!"
As soon as they entered Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the cacophony of noise instantly frayed everyone's nerves.
Hermione and Ron were drawn downstairs by the commotion, just in time to see Sturgis Podmore's leg drenched in blood.
The entire Weasley family was there—everyone except Percy.
Mrs. Weasley quickly sent Ginny back to her room; the bloody scene was no sight for a child.
Ginny shot a resentful look at Ron, as if to say, "He's a kid too!"
"What happened to him?" A few people who had been in a meeting emerged to see what was going on.
Sirius found his old friend Lupin and asked directly. Lupin gave a wry smile. "He was bitten by a dog."
"A dog?" Sirius's eyes widened. What kind of dog could do this? Even a Tibetan mastiff couldn't inflict that kind of damage.
Snape knelt down with a deep frown. He examined the wound, which was gouged so deep the bone was visible, and said solemnly, "There's a powerful curse embedded in this—it's preventing the wound from healing."
Sturgis Podmore's face was deathly pale.
He trembled as he asked, "Will I… will I be able to keep my leg?"
"If we could get our hands on the dog that bit you, maybe we could find a way to break the curse." Even Snape found the situation troublesome.
He himself was well-versed in Dark Magic—after all, he had created Sectumsempra, a powerful dark curse.
The effects of Sectumsempra were similar to this bite—both caused wounds that couldn't be healed. But while he knew the countercurse to Sectumsempra, this one was completely unknown to him.
"The dog? Remus, you still haven't told me which dog did it?" Sirius turned to Lupin.
At that moment, Harry spoke up, "It was Tom. John's dog."
The noisy room quieted slightly. Hermione covered her mouth in disbelief. That tiny thing—Tom—had caused a wound like that?
Snape's expression darkened as he snapped, "What foolish thing did you lot do this time?"
Harry didn't like his tone one bit. It rubbed him the wrong way.
Sirius saw Snape bullying his godson and immediately bristled. "Severus, he wouldn't do anything foolish."
"Oh, really?" Snape sneered sarcastically. "You know very well John Wick isn't the impulsive type."
He assumed someone in the group had provoked John, which had led to him casting such a vicious curse.
The moment that name was mentioned, Sirius felt a dull ache in his left rib.
Lupin gave a wry smile. "Alright, this time it wasn't John Wick's doing. We accidentally trespassed onto his lawn."
"You mean to tell me," Snape said coldly, "a group of fully trained wizards got chased off by a dog?"
"Embarrassing as it is," Lupin sighed, "yes, we were chased off."
"Alright, let's focus on saving Sturgis Podmore's leg," Moody finally spoke up, rapping his cane irritably. "We haven't even started fighting, and we're already down a leg?!"
___________
Read 12 Chaps ahead:
Patreon: Dragonel