"And what do you think, Headmaster Dumbledore?" Bryan smiled faintly at the corners of his mouth, turning the question back on him.
Rather than taking offense at having his own question deflected, Dumbledore seemed to completely relax at those words. He said nothing immediately, only stared down at his own wrinkled hands resting on the wooden table before him, examining them as though seeing them for the first time.
His expression was caught somewhere between exhaustion and deep sorrow.
The silence between them stretched on for a long while.
The flickering candlelight casted shadows across both their faces.
Time seemed to slow in that underground kitchen, until Molly came bustling into the hush that had settled over the room.
"Oh, Bryan—" Molly began hesitantly. She had clearly sensed the delicate atmosphere between the two powerful men.
She stood at the threshold with a wooden tray balanced in her hands, looking slightly flustered and uncertain whether she should intrude.
"I thought, since Harry hasn't had any breakfast this morning, perhaps you might also—that is, I made extra, and you must be hungry after everything—"
"How very kind of you, Molly—" Bryan interrupted gently. He accepted the tray from her with good cheer and genuine warmth, his demeanor shifted instantly.
"I am rather hungry, as it happens. Thank you for thinking of me."
Molly pressed her lips together and managed a thin smile that didn't quite hide her worry, then left Bryan's side carrying Harry's breakfast tray up the stairs.
But she had only gone a few steps when she stopped abruptly and turned back, eyeing the two men seated at the table with unease.
"You're not quarrelling, are you?" she asked bluntly, her concern was overriding any sense of propriety.
"Nothing to worry about, Molly—" Dumbledore reassured her. He finally set aside the gloom that had settled over his face and gave her a warm, grandfatherly smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Bryan and I are simply discussing the trouble Harry currently faces, and how best to manage it."
Molly exhaled audibly with relief. "Oh, good. You know how dreadful things are right now—the whole wizarding world seems to be going mad. We're counting on the two of you to set things right."
With that earnest statement, she left the kitchen, her footsteps were fading up the stone stairs.
"I apologize, Bryan—" Dumbledore said once they were alone again.
Molly's parting words seemed to stir something deep in him. The deep blue of his eyes flickered with some unreadable feeling.
"It is not that I distrust you or your judgment. It is simply that in a life as long as mine, spanning more than a century... one cannot always avoid making mistakes. Terrible mistakes, sometimes. What matters, I suppose, is that one eventually... comes to see clearly what one has done, and tries to make amends where possible."
Bryan focused his attention on carefully cutting the fried egg on his plate.
"So, you intend to be generous once again and give Fudge yet another opportunity for this—enlightenment of his, do you, Headmaster?" Bryan asked without looking up from his plate.
Dumbledore only sighed heavily and sank back into silence.
He had no answer to offer, or perhaps he simply knew Bryan would not accept any answer he gave.
"I am not that generous, Headmaster," Bryan said at last setting down his fork with a soft clink against the plate, dabbed carefully at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, and only then looked up at Dumbledore with calm, level eyes.
"This time, Fudge must go. He must be removed from power. The Ministry must be brought to order—"
"I believe you can accomplish it, Bryan—I have no doubt of your capability—" Dumbledore said slowly.
"But have you considered the powerful supporters behind Fudge? They have their hands in every corner of Wizarding Britain. If they decided not to support Amelia or whoever replaces Fudge, ordinary people's lives would suffer enormously."
"Amelia herself represents the interests of certain old families," Bryan countered, raising one finger.
"The Bones family is ancient and respected. Even if we left Fudge untouched in his position, we would still be in fundamental conflict with most of the pure-blood families eventually, because Voldemort—that cancer eating at our society—must eventually be cut out completely.
And these two-faced creatures pay their taxes to the Ministry with one hand while secretly funding Voldemort's reign of terror with the other. They cannot be allowed to continue."
He raised a second finger. "I am also rather well-versed in the art of making an example of people. Selective prosecution can be quite effective in encouraging cooperation from others."
He raised a third finger, however…
"What is your plan from here, Bryan?" Dumbledore asked softly.
Facing the young man across the table—so sharp-eyed, so full of contained energy and unshakeable purpose—Dumbledore felt, for the first time in many years, a creeping sense of his own inadequacy.
It was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation.
It was not merely that he could no longer hold dominance over Bryan in terms of raw magical power, though that was certainly true. He felt, too, that in this battle of wits, he was somehow on the back foot.
"Everything must wait until this business with Harry is properly settled and the Ministry's will is unified behind new leadership," Bryan said.
He rose smoothly to his feet, pushing back his chair.
"I have always believed that when darkness rises in the wizarding world, it is the wizarding government—the elected representatives of the people—that ought to step forward and face it directly.
The Order of the Phoenix has always been, at best, an unfortunate necessity born of governmental failure. Now then—is there anything else you need to discuss, Headmaster? I have some old friends to visit over the next few days."
"This morning, when I went to speak with Cornelius at the Ministry—" Dumbledore began, then hesitated. "He seemed to hint at—"
"I have no interest in listening to his self-serving drivel, Headmaster—" Bryan said flatly and walked out of the basement kitchen without looking back.
The corridor on the ground floor was once again filled with people when Bryan emerged.
The Order members who had just appeared at the Dursleys' house to rescue Harry had returned to Grimmauld Place, and now stood gathered in the narrow hallway, muttering to one another in grave, hushed tones.
The moment Bryan stepped through the kitchen door, the murmuring stopped abruptly and every face turned toward him with visible tension.
"What's wrong?" Bryan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh—" Remus began carefully.
"Molly mentioned, before she went upstairs with Harry's breakfast, that there seemed to be some kind of disagreement between you and Albus. We were wondering whether—"
"We were worried that if you and Albus decided to blow this blasted house sky-high, there'd be absolutely nothing we could do to stop you!" Mad-Eye Moody cut in at the top of his gravelly voice.
"So, what's going on, Bryan? My gut tells me you know a good deal more about the Potter boy's situation than the rest of us are being told—am I right?"
Bryan gave a vague smile that revealed nothing.
"Don't worry about it. Just watch how things unfold over the next few weeks."
"Even if you're not officially in the Order, Bryan, you could at least give us something to go on—what exactly is your plan here? And if you're planning to blow up the Ministry or assassinate Fudge, I won't stand for it!" Moody's voice filled the corridor.
"My plan is quite simple, Alastor—" Bryan said with genuine amusement.
"It is this: the next time darkness bares its fangs in the wizarding world, the Ministry of Magic actually does something effective about it—rather than leaving a pack of aging veterans to exhaust themselves putting out fires while the government does nothing."
He needed to change out of the clothes he'd slept in before he left for his appointments, so he turned toward the staircase. Sirius and the others were still watching him with concern, clearly wanting to say more.
"Don't worry about Harry—"
After a moment's consideration, Bryan decided to give them just enough information to keep them from losing sleep over the coming days.
"On the day of the hearing before the Wizengamot, I will be present as Harry's witness. That should be sufficient."
He said no more, and disappeared up the stairs without elaborating more.
When he reached the landing on the third floor, Bryan's purposeful steps slowed. He glanced sideways toward the closed door of the room Harry and Ron shared, his lips were moving slightly and then he walked directly toward it.
Inside the room, Hermione's voice rang out with passionate intensity.
"...I'm going to buy every single newspaper published in London over the past three months—every edition, every single day. If something truly happened in the Muggle world involving a murder, it absolutely would have been reported somewhere. Of course, it will cost quite a bit of money to purchase that many papers, but fortunately I've just come into a rather nice sum from the tournament prize!"
Hermione had climbed down from Harry's bed where she'd been sitting, her brown eyes were blazing with determination as she looked at everyone gathered in the cramped room in turn.
"I need you all to help me comb through them thoroughly for any trace of what really happened. We can't just sit here passively and let the Ministry act with impunity. And Harry—you could absolutely sue the Ministry for wrongful arrest, because the way they arrested you this morning was in direct violation of wizarding law. They had absolutely no right to send—"
KNOCK—KNOCK—KNOCK
The sudden rapping at the door cut cleanly through Hermione's impassioned speech.
"Probably Mum coming to collect the dirty plates," Ron said with a casual shrug, glancing at Harry's greasy tray.
"Oh—I just remembered, why haven't I seen Kreacher around? You know, Sirius's house-elf? Isn't cooking and cleaning supposed to be his primary job?"
Harry swallowed the last bit of sausage quickly, wiped his mouth, crossed to the door, and pulled it open.
"Do you really think so, Harry?" Hermione's expression shifted instantly from righteous indignation to something considerably darker and more dangerous.
Harry hunched his shoulders defensively, rooted to the spot by Hermione's terrifying glare. It seemed he'd walked right into that trap.
"Remus's workshop has so many workers now that Kreacher's been sent to help the other house-elves cook for them," Ron said with a laugh, rescuing Harry as he reached past him to pull the door open wider.
"They need to feed dozens of people every—"
A moment of magnificent chaos followed immediately.
Fred and George tumbled off Ron's bed in a tangle of limbs, landing with twin thumps on the floor. Ginny let out a short, cat-like shriek of surprise and leapt down from Harry's bed. The group of young witches and wizards straightened up like soldiers snapping to sudden attention, staring up at Professor Watson standing in the doorway with wide, awestruck eyes.
"I only came to say a word—nothing alarming—" Bryan began observing the suddenly petrified cluster of young people and laughed.
He looked directly at Harry.
"Since the Ministry has already sent its official notice of your house arrest, you are required to stay inside this house and not go out—not until this matter is settled one way or another. We don't want them pinning any additional charges on you."
Harry nodded several times in quick series.
"And no dashing off on some reckless adventure trying to prove Harry's innocence yourselves by investigating in the Muggle world—" Bryan continued, turning to address Hermione directly.
"Reading through newspapers indoors is perfectly sensible and safe."
WHOOSH—
Hermione's face flooded red with embarrassment. She held her breath and gave a stiff nod, unable to meet his eyes.
"Nothing else to add. Carry on—" Bryan smiled warmly at them all.
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