Adrian was leisurely enjoying the dinner Dobby had prepared, savoring each bite of the cooked steak, exactly as he preferred it, with a delicious butter melting over the top that pooled enticingly on the plate. The accompanying roasted vegetables were perfectly crisp and appetizing, seasoned with just the right amount of salt, pepper, and what tasted like rosemary.
It was genuinely remarkable how better Dobby had become at cooking over the months they'd lived together, considering most house-elves simply used magic to prepare meals rather than developing actual culinary technique or understanding flavor favor person.
He was just reaching for his glass of deep red wine, about to take a sip to complement the meat, when the fireplace in the corner of the room suddenly made an unusual crackling sound.
Green flames surged up with a whoosh of air and intense heat, and a rather disheveled figure stumbled out awkwardly on his hands and knees onto the hearth rug.
Soot scattered everywhere from his sudden arrival.
"Cough, cough cough!"
The unexpected visitor brushed vigorously at the dust and ash covering his dark robes while complaining in a hoarse, slightly accusatory voice between coughs, "Adrian, how long has it been since you last actually used this fireplace? There must be years of accumulated soot in the flue! I could barely breathe coming through!"
"Good evening to you too, Sirius," Adrian looked up from his dinner with slight amusement, setting down his fork and knife.
He showed no particular surprise at the unannounced intrusion. "What brings you to my home at such late?"
"Oh, no rush," Sirius said casually, brushing the last of the soot from his sleeves with careless swipes that only spread it around more.
He showed no signs of formality or awareness that he might be intruding, and naturally sat himself down in the comfortable chair across from Adrian at the small dining table.
As soon as he'd settled into the seat, before he could even properly get comfortable, Dobby suddenly appeared beside the table with a soft pop. It was carrying another plate of steaming steak that he carefully placed in front of the unexpected guest with a little bow.
"Mr. Black, please enjoy your dinner!" Dobby said in his typical shrill, enthusiastic voice, his large tennis-ball eyes shining with pleasure at having another person to serve. "Dobby has prepared plenty! Would Mr. Black like vegetables? Wine? Fresh bread?"
"Excellent service, Dobby," Sirius said appreciatively, eyeing the steak with hunger and picking up the knife and fork that had appeared beside his plate.
"It's genuinely nice to have such an obedient and helpful house-elf around, you know. At least you're vastly better than Kreacher—that creature complains constantly all day long and would love nothing more than to poison my dinner or see me dead. Just last week he 'accidentally' left a staircase charm undone and I nearly broke my neck..."
He continued rambling about his house-elf troubles while cutting into his steak.
Adrian shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. He wasn't particularly interested in Sirius's domestic problems or his ongoing feud with his family's ancient house-elf, entertaining as the stories sometimes were.
"Let's talk business instead, Sirius, I don't recall extending you an invitation to drop by this evening. So, what's the actual reason for this visit? I guess you didn't risk the Floo network just to complain about Kreacher."
Sirius picked up his knife and fork properly, his expression becoming more serious and focused, the casual funniness faded from his face as he remembered his actual purpose.
"Actually, I came primarily to check on Harry. He should be back from Hogwarts by now, right?"
"Then you may have come to the wrong place," Adrian glanced at him with a slight smirk. "Harry's currently at the Dursleys' house on Privet Drive, as he must be every summer for the blood protection to remain active. Though I imagine that family wouldn't exactly invite you to stay for dinner or welcome you with open arms."
The image of Vernon Dursley's reaction to Sirius Black appearing in his home was rather amusing to ponder.
"Mm..." Sirius frowned deeply, his expression darkening with displeasure and frustration. "I hope my godson isn't suffering too much with those dreadful Muggles...."
"Ah, yes, there's one more thing I need to tell you," He suddenly remembered. "The Order of the Phoenix is holding an emergency meeting in mid-July, on the fifteenth. Dumbledore thinks we need to synchronize some intelligence as soon as possible, coordinate our efforts, and discuss strategy."
He paused, his gaze focusing intently on Adrian across the table, his tone becoming noticeably more formal. "Dumbledore specifically asked me to deliver this message personally. He hopes you can attend the meeting as well."
'The Order of the Phoenix?'
Adrian was somewhat surprised by this unexpected invitation. "I'm not actually a member of the Order of the Phoenix, Sirius."
"I'm just the messenger delivering what I was told," Sirius shrugged, returning his attention to cutting his steak. "Whether you actually go or not is entirely up to you."
Adrian pondered for a moment, his fingers drumming thoughtfully on the table as he considered the implications and potential benefits of attending such a meeting.
Finally, he nodded lightly in decision. "Alright, I'll attend."
Attending the Order of the Phoenix meeting held no particular disadvantages for him that he could see, and potentially offered significant benefits in terms of information gathering and coordination.
Moreover...
Dumbledore must currently be conducting intelligence-gathering activities regarding Voldemort and the Death Eaters' recent movements and plans.
He was also genuinely curious about what schemes Voldemort might be plotting behind the scenes.
"Number 12 Grimmauld Place," Sirius provided the address with a smile.
"You've been there before, obviously, so you know what a charming place it is. It's temporarily serving as the Order's headquarters. If my dear departed mother knew so many people "half-bloods, Muggle-borns, blood traitors, the lot of them"—were constantly coming and going from her precious ancestral house, she'd probably go absolutely mad with rage in her portrait frame."
He paused, and his smile became more genuine and somewhat malicious.
"You could simply take her portrait down and store it somewhere," Adrian suggested practically, taking another bite of his cooling steak.
"Now where would be the fun in that?" Sirius asked with a grin. "I genuinely enjoy watching her go absolutely mad with impotent rage while being completely helpless to do anything about the 'contamination' of her precious house."
After successfully delivering the message and finishing his unexpectedly provided dinner with appreciation, wiping his mouth with a napkin Dobby provided, Sirius didn't linger long in Adrian's shop.
He immediately stood to leave, brushing crumbs from his robes and stretching slightly.
According to his plans, he still needed to make his way to Privet Drive to visit the Dursleys and personally ensure that family wasn't mistreating Harry during his stay.
Adrian could only hope Sirius wouldn't cause any significant trouble or frightening incidents when he appeared at the Dursleys' home.
Vernon would probably have a stroke if Sirius arrived in his typical 'FREAK' fashion.
In the blink of an eye, with the peculiar way summer days seemed to blur together into an indistinguishable mass of heat and routine, half a month passed swiftly.
London in mid-July was absolutely shrouded in oppressive humidity that made everything feel sticky and uncomfortable. Even the trees on the streets of Privet Drive seemed listless and drooping in the roasting heat.
However, a peculiarly shaped small tree had mysteriously appeared at the entrance of the Dursleys' house, planted in the very center of a previously empty, carefully trimmed flower bed. The new addition was particularly eye-catching and distinctive, looking quite different from the usual roses and petunias that was on every other garden on the street.
According to the neighborhood gossip that spread rapidly among the curious residents of Privet Drive who had nothing better to do than monitor each other's gardens and judge any deviations from conformity—Mr. Dursley had supposedly brought this exotic specimen back from somewhere in the countryside just last weekend.
Harry, watching the tree from his bedroom window, always felt that particular tree looked familiar somehow, though he couldn't quite place where he might have seen it before.
Adrian's summer vacation proved to be remarkably leisurely and peaceful which was always a welcome relief from the chaos of the school year.
Apart from tending carefully to his various magical plants daily and occasionally visiting Privet Drive to check on Harry and tease him about his recovery progress, and diligently reading the Daily Prophet each morning over coffee to stay informed of current events, he had almost nothing he absolutely had to do.
Worth noting was that the Daily Prophet nowadays featured many alarming news articles about Dark wizard activity and suspected Death Eater attacks, with pages constantly filled with various sensational and often contradictory headlines designed to sell papers and spread fear in equal degree.
DARK MARK APPEARS! VICIOUS ATTACK OCCURS IN NOTTINGHAMSHIRE - THREE MUGGLES DEAD
MINISTRY OF MAGIC INCREASES SECURITY MEASURES, MINISTER FUDGE CALLS FOR PUBLIC TO REMAIN CALM
ANOTHER MUGGLE FAMILY SUFFERS MISFORTUNE IN SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES, DEATH EATERS SUSPECTED
IS NOWHERE SAFE? DARK ACTIVITY REPORTED ACROSS BRITAIN
AZKABAN ESCAPEES STILL AT LARGE - MINISTRY ADMITS NO LEADS
...And so forth, day after day, each headline was more dramatic than the last.
Although the actual authenticity and accuracy of these sensational reports was highly questionable—Rita Skeeter's byline appeared on many of them, which was never a good sign for accurate reporting, they still had significant psychological impact on the wizarding world in general.
Of course, none of this panic and chaos concerned Adrian particularly much on a personal level.
He'd primarily been waiting patiently for news of Fudge's resignation or removal from office, checking the political sections of the Prophet each morning with particular attention. Surely the man couldn't survive much longer with this level of crisis and public fear under his watch.
But perhaps because Voldemort hadn't yet officially and publicly announced his return, hadn't made some theatrical appearance that even Fudge couldn't deny or explain away, he remained stubbornly and firmly seated in his position as head of the Ministry of Magic.
At least for now.
Soon enough, almost before he realized it, the day of the Order of the Phoenix meeting finally arrived.
In Adrian's shop on the morning of July fifteenth, Harry and Adrian stood together in front of the fireplace in the front room.
"So, am I actually going too?" Harry asked somewhat anxiously.
He'd been surprised when Adrian had told him to prepare for the journey this morning.
"Ah, yes, you're definitely coming," Adrian confirmed with a nod, reaching for the pot on the mantle that contained Floo powder.
He handed it to Harry with a reassuring smile. "Dumbledore asked me to bring you along as well, actually. The destination is 'Number 12 Grimmauld Place'—Sirius's ancestral house, remember? We've been there before, last summer."
Harry nodded slowly, his expression still showing traces of uncertainty and nervousness, but he reached into the pot and grabbed a large handful of the silvery Floo powder.
He stepped forward into the fireplace, standing among the flames without fear and spoke clearly and carefully: "Number 12 Grimmauld Place!"
Green flames suddenly surged up with a roar, instantly swallowing his figure completely and spinning him away through the network with the familiar uncomfortable pulling sensation.
After confirming Harry hadn't misspoken the destination or ended up in some random fireplace across Britain, after watching the flames settle back to their normal orange color, Adrian took his own handful of powder and followed immediately, stepping into the fireplace with ease.
"Number 12 Grimmauld Place," He said calmly.
After the now-familiar bout of spinning and whirling through the Floo network, the two emerged one after another from the fireplace in what was clearly the kitchen of the Black family's ancestral Manor.
A familiar figure immediately came forward to greet them with—it was Molly Weasley.
She wore an apron over her robes, and there were some flour stains on it and dusting her forearms, clearly having just been busy in the kitchen preparing food for the impending meeting. Her face was slightly flushed from the heat of cooking.
"Oh, Adrian, it's absolutely wonderful that you've come—"
Mrs. Weasley's enthusiastic words suddenly stopped abruptly halfway through the greeting, as her gaze fell in complete surprise on Harry, who was still brushing residual soot off his robes with his left hand and looking around the kitchen with interest.
"Harry? Dear boy, how are you also...?" Her expression shifted rapidly from pleasure to confusion. "Dumbledore didn't say anything about you coming today!"
She immediately opened her arms wide and gave Harry a warm, strong, slightly crushing maternal embrace that lasted several seconds, squeezing him tight against her chest before finally releasing him.
Then she placed both her hands firmly on his shoulders, holding him at arm's length, and continued to examine him thoroughly from head to toe with a mother's critical, assessing eye.
Her gaze lingered especially long on his right arm, the one that had been severed and regrown.
"How's your injury healing, dear?" She asked gently.
Harry quickly waved his right hand in demonstration, flexing the fingers and rotating the wrist to show. "It's completely fine now, Mrs. Weasley."
Mrs. Weasley still continued staring intently at the arm for several more seconds, clearly not entirely convinced or satisfied by this reassurance alone. She looked like she wanted to perform her own diagnostic spells, perhaps examine the limb in detail to confirm it was truly healthy.
Just then, interrupting her examination and preventing further interrogation, a short, slightly plump wizard wearing a bright violet top hat hurried past them through the kitchen.
Seeing Adrian standing there, the unfamiliar wizard stopped abruptly mid-step. His face immediately broke into an enthusiastic if somewhat hasty and distracted smile of recognition or greeting.
"You must be Adrian Westeros, right?" He asked rapidly, the words tumbling out quickly without pause. "I've heard so much about you from Dumbledore and the others!
Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix! We're delighted to have someone of your caliber joining us!"
Almost without waiting for any actual response or acknowledgment from Adrian, he was already hurrying off again down the corridor toward what sounded like the front hall.
"Terribly sorry, can't stop to chat properly now, I must rush to the corner to signal Mundungus! We'll chat more properly next time, I promise!"
His voice faded as he disappeared around the corner.
Mrs. Weasley watched the man's departing figure and smiled helplessly. "That's Dedalus Diggle. He's always rushing about like that. I don't think he's finished a complete sentence in years."
She turned her head, preparing to invite the two to the kitchen, when she heard Harry's confused voice. "Mrs. Weasley... the Order of the Phoenix—what is that?"
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