The rest of the summer slipped by in a blur.
Victor spent most of his time locked away in his mansion, pushing himself to master the dizzying, near-instantaneous travel of his new Shadow Apparition.
When he wasn't doing that, he was trying very hard to ignore the heavily warded, lead-lined box sitting safely in his deepest vault.
While Victor was successfully staying out of trouble, the same couldn't be said for the Boy Who Lived.
Toward the end of the holidays, the Daily Prophet exploded with a ridiculous new scandal.
Victor read the headlines over his morning coffee, shaking his head at the absolute circus the Ministry of Magic had become.
A pair of Dementors had somehow made their way to Little Whinging, attacking Harry and his Muggle cousin in a dark alleyway.
With his soul on the line, Harry had done the only thing he could: cast a full-bodied Patronus Charm. Naturally, since he'd performed underage magic in front of a Muggle, the Ministry pounced.
Cornelius Fudge and his administration tried to bring the full weight of the law down on Harry's head, desperately wanting him expelled from Hogwarts immediately, practically foaming at the mouth for an excuse to snap his wand in half.
"Idiots," Victor muttered, tossing the newspaper onto the table.
Of course, their petty witch hunt hadn't gone exactly the way Fudge planned.
Dumbledore had swooped into the disciplinary hearing just in time, and by expertly navigating the legal system and producing a witness, the Headmaster ensured the boy was cleared of all charges.
The expulsion was blocked; Harry's wand remained perfectly intact.
But the incident made one thing blatantly clear: the Ministry was in deep, dangerous denial about Voldemort's return, and willing to play dirty to silence anyone who said otherwise.
The upcoming school year was going to be a massive headache.
Victor sighed, rubbing his temples as he remembered a certain pink, frog-like woman the Ministry was bound to send to Hogwarts.
Dolores Umbridge — the only person in the entire wizarding world who somehow managed to be more universally despised than Voldemort himself.
***
The heavy front door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place clicked shut.
Harry stood in the hallway, looking around at the peeling wallpaper and moth-eaten curtains. Before he could speak, footsteps hurried down the stairs. Ron and Hermione stopped on the bottom landing.
"You're both here?" Harry stared at them. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Before they could answer, a raspy muttering drifted from the shadows near the basement stairs. Kreacher shuffled into the dim light, bulbous eyes fixed on Hermione.
"...filthy Muggles and blood traitors, marching through my Mistress's house, tainting the noble House of Black..."
"Shut up and go away, Kreacher!"
Sirius stepped out of the kitchen, looking tired but noticeably sharper than the previous year.
Kreacher gave a low, mocking bow, muttered another string of curses, and vanished down the steps.
Sirius pulled his godson into a quick, firm hug. "Long time no see, Harry."
"Sirius," Harry said, stepping back, tension obvious in his shoulders. "What is this place? What's happening? Nobody's told me a thing all summer."
Sirius gestured toward the kitchen doors. "Come in. It's time you knew."
They moved into the basement kitchen and sat around the long wooden table.
Victor, who'd been quietly watching from the hallway, followed and took a seat near the door.
"This house is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," Sirius said flatly, skipping the small talk. "A secret society Dumbledore founded during the First Wizarding War."
"To do what?"
"To fight Voldemort," Sirius answered.
"The Ministry's in complete denial. Fudge thinks Dumbledore's after his job, so he's using the Daily Prophet to paint you both as liars."
"Since the Ministry refuses to act, the Order's doing it quietly — gathering allies, guarding what's important, tracking Voldemort's movements."
Kreacher muttered under his breath as he set the table, his raspy voice carrying just enough for Ron and Hermione to hear.
"Hmph. It was better when Master Victor was here. At least then this place wasn't crawling with Muggles."
Ron frowned, exchanging a glance with Hermione. "Wait... Victor Malfoy? Is that who he means?"
Kreacher didn't answer. He just sneered at them and shuffled out of the kitchen.
Sirius walked in a moment later with Harry in tow. Catching the end of the conversation, he pulled out a chair at the head of the table.
"Well, your friend is a strange one," he said, shaking his head slightly. "But at least Dumbledore trusts him."
"Wait, Victor is with the Order too?" Harry asked, feeling like he was the last one to know anything.
"No, he's not," Sirius said. "You know how his family is connected to Voldemort. Not everyone here is comfortable with him being around."
*****
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