As the war council in Dumbledore's office began to disperse, each member moving to fulfill their assigned role, a single, sharp voice cut through the determined quiet. Dumbledore was currently contacting the Order and Amelia, detailing the plan.
"So that's it, then?"
Daphne Greengrass stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, her usual cool composure fractured by a look of raw, betrayed hurt. She had clearly heard the commotion and come to see, only to find herself on the outside of the most important meeting of their lives. As a trusted member of Ariana's group, she was of course not suspected of spying or any such by the DA.
"You're going to war, and you didn't even tell me," Daphne said, her voice low and tight. She looked directly at Ariana, her blue eyes flashing.
Hermione and the others looked on, uncomfortable, sensing the deep personal sting behind the accusation.
Ariana turned to face her, her expression unreadable. "This is not a matter for you, Daphne," she said, her voice calm but final.
"Not a matter for me?" Daphne shot back, taking a step into the room. "I have worked with you and Hermione for months. I have dedicated myself to our research, to our alliance. I thought I was part of your inner circle. And now, when the time comes to actually fight, I am dismissed like a first year?" The hurt in her voice was palpable. "Do you not trust me? Do you think I'm a coward?"
"I have never questioned your courage or your loyalty," Ariana replied, her voice softening slightly but losing none of its firmness. "My decision to exclude you from this operation is not based on a lack of trust in you. It is based on a strategic imperative to protect you and your family."
She walked closer, speaking in a lower tone meant only for Daphne. "Your family, the
Greengrasses, currently occupy a position of powerful neutrality in the political landscape. You are respected by the old pure-blood families, but you are not aligned with the Death Eaters. This neutrality is a priceless strategic asset. It gives you access, influence, and a perspective we do not have."
She met Daphne's gaze, her own eyes filled with a stark, serious logic. "If you, Daphne Greengrass, are seen fighting alongside Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix against a dozen Death Eaters, that neutrality is shattered forever. Your family will be forced to choose a side. Voldemort will immediately classify you as enemies, as blood-traitors. He will bring the full weight of his fury down upon your House. Your father's influence, your family's safety, Astoria's future—all of it would be placed in immediate, mortal peril."
The anger in Daphne's face began to recede, replaced by a dawning, horrified understanding.
"Your role in this war, Daphne, is not to be a soldier on the front lines," Ariana continued, her voice a quiet, strategic whisper. "It is to be an intelligence asset. A quiet ally on the inside. You are far more valuable to our cause at a Slytherin dinner party, listening to the whispers of Draco Malfoy, no matter how stupid they are, than you are trading curses in a dark corridor at the Ministry."
She placed a gentle hand on her friend's arm. "I am not sidelining you. I am protecting my Queen.
The most powerful pieces on the chessboard do not always engage in the opening skirmish."
Daphne stared at her, the raw hurt in her eyes giving way to a grudging, profound respect. Ariana hadn't dismissed her; she had assigned her a different, more subtle, and perhaps even more dangerous role. She had seen her not just as a friend to be protected, but as a strategic asset to be deployed with care. It was the most Slytherin compliment she had ever received.
"I… understand," Daphne said finally, her voice tight with emotion. She gave a single, sharp nod. "Be careful, Ariana. All of you." She then turned and left the office, her head held high, her purpose redefined.
With the final piece of their internal politics settled, the time for action was at hand. The members of the D.A. team, their faces a mixture of fear and resolve, were led by Professor Flitwick to a secure location to await the signal for their coordinated Apparition.
Ariana and Harry remained in the Headmaster's office with Dumbledore and Amelia Bones, who had just arrived through the Floo, her face grim.
"Kingsley and my team are in position around the Department of Mysteries," Amelia reported crisply. "Sirius and the Order are moving into their secondary locations. The net is ready." "Excellent," Dumbledore said. He looked at Harry, his expression full of a grandfatherly concern. "Harry, you have your instructions. Your only role is to retrieve the prophecy and allow Ariana to shield you. Do not, under any circumstances, engage the enemy directly."
"I understand, sir," Harry said, his hand gripping his wand.
Dumbledore then turned to Ariana, his trusted general. "The rest is in your hands. May your logic be your shield."
Ariana met his gaze, then looked at Amelia Bones. She gave them both a single, confident nod—a silent acknowledgement of the trust they had placed in her.
She walked to the magnificent fireplace, Harry at her side. She took a pinch of Floo powder, her movements calm and deliberate.
"Ready, Harry?" she asked quietly.
He took a deep breath. "Ready."
"Destination: Ministry of Magic, Atrium," Ariana called out, her voice clear and strong. She tossed the powder into the flames, which roared up, turning a brilliant emerald green.
Without a backward glance, she stepped into the heart of the fire, disappearing into the magical network, on her way to spring a trap a dark lord would never see coming.