Dumbledore, observing the collective astonishment on the faces of his Order members—all gazing intently at Lily and Augusta—offered a mild, knowing smile. The atmosphere had shifted from the tense relief of victory to one of sheer disbelief that a more savage, clandestine battle had been waged beneath their feet.
"It seems, my friends," Dumbledore said, his voice gentle but carrying authority, "that some of the night's most vital skirmishes occurred outside the main theater of operations. We are all deeply indebted to the bravery shown in the safe house."
He turned his gaze, which held a distinct twinkle, to Augusta. "Miss Longbottom, please. Enlighten us about the wonderful, and apparently brutal, adventure that took place in our unexpected subterranean bunker."
Augusta, seeing Lily's expression of anxious resignation—knowing she couldn't stop the full truth from coming out now—took the floor with the rigid pride only an elderly, fiercely protective witch could possess.
"When we discovered that someone was not only attacking the powerful Runic Array outside, but specifically targeting the entrance to the safe house, we knew we were compromised," Augusta began, her voice gaining strength as she recounted the terror and triumph. "It was Mr. Wilson here," she nodded sharply toward Anduin, "who immediately took command. He had the presence of mind to abandon the static defense and quickly pivot to an active one."
She described in meticulous detail the hurried construction of the furniture barricade. "And then, as those vile creatures charged in, Mr. Wilson had set a trap. He cast a subtle, continuous spell that seemingly devoured the strength of the ground at the entryway. They sank instantly, immobilized, and we were able to drop two of them without breaking a sweat."
The Aurors and Order members listened in stunned silence, particularly Frank Longbottom, who realized his mother and wife had been fighting a far more intimate and deadly battle than he had.
Augusta's voice turned harsh as she described the final attacker. "But the last one, the leader, had taken some sort of dark elixir. He was crazed, powerful, and utterly immune to our Stunning Spells. He forced us into a passive defense, breaking through Lily's shields with raw power. He was about to charge—a mad dog ready to tear us apart."
Millicent Barnold, the Minister of Magic, her face pale with shock at the calculated ruthlessness of the attack, clenched her jaw. "Unbelievable. To infiltrate a safe house, specifically targeting women and children... the Dark Lord's methods sink lower every day." She looked at Augusta again, focusing on the tactical details. "How did that man—the one with the potion—die? From your description, he was still standing when the fight ended."
Moody, having just finished securing the ropes on the three stunned prisoners, interjected, his magical eye whirling with manic energy.
"That, Minister, was my work," Moody rasped, pointing his wand at the floating corpse of Rosier. "Evan Rosier had gone completely mad. He was screaming, 'Long live the Dark Lord!' and in his frenzy, he threw a full-force Avada Kedavra curse. It was aimed square at the child," he pointed a long, scarred finger at Harry, "and young Anduin."
Moody's eyes narrowed, his expression intense. "If Mr. Wilson hadn't reacted with a sheer burst of instinct—sending a non-verbal Force Charm to deflect Rosier's wand arm mid-swing—that Killing Curse would have struck. Seeing the absolute urgency, I had no time for Stunning Charms or Capture Charms. I judged the threat immediate and terminal. I cast the Killing Curse on him without hesitation."
Moody's grin was back, sharp and predatory. "Anyone who calls for the Dark Lord while aiming a green light at an innocent child deserves no better."
Minister Barnold, though visibly jarred, was a political leader of immediate resolve. She looked between the dead Death Eater, the Auror, and the young boy who had just saved a life.
"At this critical juncture, with the security of the future on the line, there is absolutely no room for leniency toward unhinged fanatics. I declare your use of the Unforgivable Curse in that instant, Alastor Moody, a fully legitimate, justifiable law enforcement action."
She then turned, her expression softening into an official, commending glare, aimed at Anduin.
"Mr. Anduin Wilson," she announced, her voice rising to address everyone in the hall. "I declare your use of off-campus magic under these extreme, life-threatening conditions to be entirely justified and legal. Furthermore, your actions during this crisis were nothing short of brave and technically skillful. Not only did your tactical maneuvering enable the apprehension of four Death Eaters in the safe house, but you personally protected the children at the moment of highest peril. I will personally apply for commendations and special awards for you through the Ministry—a rare honour for a young wizard. Please, continue to apply yourself as diligently as you have today."
Anduin felt an intoxicating blend of pride and vindication. Commendations? Awards? He didn't crave the fame, which would be dangerous, but the potential prestige and resources that came with official recognition were invaluable. He suppressed his joy and adopted a posture of humility and solemnity.
"Thank you, Minister," Anduin said, speaking loudly and clearly. "This is simply what I felt I had to do. I could not stand by and watch my friends and their children be harmed. We are all fighting the same war."
Minister Barnold nodded firmly, clearly pleased with his respectful, yet confident response. She offered brief, encouraging words to Lily, Alice, and Augusta, then ordered Moody to escort the prisoners and the corpse out of the house for immediate processing.
Watching the political theater unfold, Dumbledore smiled and nodded, yet his mind was miles away. He had listened intently to Augusta's account, his gaze repeatedly returning to Anduin.
The boy's ability to cast powerful, subtle magic—like the "Devouring Curse" he described—and his immediate transition to a tactical commander spoke volumes. Silent casting at his age was impressive; instinctive tactical leadership under fire was extraordinary.
But Dumbledore's focus was on the Dark Lord's intent. Why attack the safe house directly?
He mused internally: The Death Eaters, especially Rosier, were focused and fanatical. Rosier was likely following precise orders from Tom, not just acting on impulse. Dumbledore studied Harry, sleeping in James's arms, and considered the other child, Neville.
It confirms my suspicions. Tom is deeply concerned about the prophesied child. But which one? Harry, the one 'marked' as his equal, or Neville, the one whose bloodline is old and formidable?
The simultaneous, focused attack on the sanctuary of the children was a clear message that Voldemort feared the prophecy enough to disregard the safety of his own high-ranking followers. Dumbledore knew the confrontation today was just the beginning.
It seems I will have to find another way to reach Severus quickly. Dumbledore decided. We need intelligence on Tom's thinking, not just his actions.
Meanwhile, James Potter, utterly shaken by Moody's revelation, finally pulled Lily into a genuine embrace, tears welling in his eyes.
"I am so sorry, Lily," he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. "I failed in my duty. I was up there, fighting the distraction, while you and our child were facing certain death down here, alone. I should have been here."
Lily pulled back, her eyes firm. "Stop, James. Don't speak like that. You were fighting the main assault. We were prepared, and no one could have predicted such a calculated, low-down betrayal. We are alive. That is what matters."
She looked pointedly across the room at the young wizard. "Instead of apologizing to me, you need to go and thank the wizard who actually saved Harry's life. I protected the trench, but Anduin protected our son."
James nodded, the weight of his emotional debt settling heavily on him. He watched as Anduin, who had avoided the intense public scrutiny, was now making his way over to Sirius Black. James decided to give them a moment; the thanks would be profound, and perhaps better delivered in private later.
Anduin approached Sirius, who was leaning heavily on Remus, his face pale beneath the grime. The bandages on his chest and arm looked ominous.
"It looks like you took quite a beating, Padfoot," Anduin said, offering a slight, cheeky grin. "Hurt badly? Can you still strut around and call yourself the coolest man in the Order?"
Sirius managed a weak, defiant cough, wincing as he spoke. "Ha! What's this, the school healer? Don't look so worried, kid. I've only got a few bruised ribs and a lung full of soot. I could fight another battle just fine, provided I don't have to run too fast."
He explained the injury in a rough whisper. "A lucky hit. A Death Eater got me with a Blade Charm—a nasty, invisible cutting curse—right in the chest. Hit the lung. It's been treated, but it hurts like a dragon pox cough every time I try to talk too loud or breathe too deep."
"Sirius, that's quite enough of your bravado," Dumbledore said, stepping beside them, his eyes serious. "Your initial wound has been stabilized, but a damage to the lung requires professional, immediate care. We need to get you to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Maladies as quickly as possible. You need to rest and be thoroughly checked by healers. Remus, if you would assist him."
Sirius, always resistant to authority, scowled. "But Albus, what about Anduin? He was staying with me. I'm a bit worried about leaving the house empty, but the boy can take care of himself, of course."
James, having finally calmed Harry, stepped in quickly. "It's settled, Sirius. Don't worry about Anduin. You go and get fixed up. Anduin can stay here with us for as long as he needs. Lily and I will take him to pick up his luggage tomorrow."
Sirius looked at Anduin, then at James, a flicker of genuine relief passing over his features, quickly replaced by his usual arrogance. He managed to shake his head helplessly before glaring at Anduin with mock severity. "Alright, kid. You're saved by the bell. But listen here: Don't try to show off like you did today—taking on four Death Eaters single-handedly and saving the heir to the Potter fortune. Or you'll get into serious trouble sooner or later."
"If we're talking about showing off, Sirius, you're the one who got run through by a simple cutting charm," Anduin shot back immediately, maintaining the necessary banter. "You got yourself into this situation being overly dramatic."
He knew Sirius was deeply injured but still taking the time to care for him, and it reinforced the bond they had formed.
Then, before Sirius could retaliate, Anduin turned, his expression suddenly serious, and addressed Dumbledore, who was watching their exchange with an amused eye.
"Professor," Anduin asked, meeting the Headmaster's gaze directly. "Could you possibly do me a favor, please?"