Grimmauld Place, in northwest London, was an old and somewhat shabby square—despite being only twenty minutes from King's Cross.
The surrounding houses looked dark and unwelcoming, as though determined to keep the world at a distance. Some windows were cracked, glinting bleakly under the streetlamps. Paint flaked from many doors, and rubbish lay heaped before several doorsteps…
A flying broom suddenly descended from the sky and landed in the center of the square, on a patch of overgrown, neglected grass.
Its rider removed his cloak, revealing thick dark-grey hair and a face lined with scars, weathered like aged timber.
After stowing the broom and bracing himself on his staff once more, Alastor Moody scanned the area carefully with his bright blue magical eye.
Just then, a sharp pop split the air.
The ever-vigilant former Auror instantly raised his staff toward the source of the sound.
"Alastor, it's me…" came a deep, measured voice from where the crack had sounded.
A tall, bald, dark-skinned wizard stood there. He was fairly handsome, though the gold earring dangling from one ear was rather conspicuous.
"Kingsley, blast it…" Mad-Eye Moody lowered his staff again, grumbling. "How many times have I told you not to Apparate straight to Grimmauld Place? What if a Death Eater followed you?"
"Sorry… I'll be more careful next time," Kingsley replied with a smile, though he didn't seem particularly chastened. "But this time… it's urgent."
"Oh?" Moody lifted his head, his scarred face tightening. "What is it?"
"Lucius Malfoy has escaped from Azkaban," Kingsley said quietly as he stepped closer.
...
"Malfoy?" Mad-Eye inhaled sharply. "How is that possible?"
"It's surprising, to say the least. During the hostage exchange a few months ago, Voldemort didn't choose to take Malfoy back. And Azkaban's security is said to be tighter than ever," Kingsley said slowly, his voice low and steady.
After a brief pause, he continued, "The Ministry doesn't seem keen on publicizing the matter. Very few people know. I only found out because I accidentally overheard my immediate superior, Gawain Robards, reporting to Rufus Scrimgeour."
"Is that so…" Moody frowned deeply, thinking. "Who was in charge of Azkaban security this week?"
"Gawain Robards himself," Kingsley answered calmly.
"That makes it even stranger." Moody raked a hand through his wild hair. "We'll have to wait for Dumbledore and discuss it with him."
"Come to think of it, I haven't seen Professor Dumbledore in quite a while," Kingsley remarked casually.
"He's been terribly busy lately," Moody nodded. "Because of what happened at Nurmengard… Though there's little I can do to help him. When that Dark Lord was first defeated by Dumbledore, I'd only just become a trainee Auror at the Ministry."
"Let's hope the situation isn't as bad as it seems," Kingsley said thoughtfully. "Otherwise, he'll be an even trickier opponent than Voldemort. I've heard my grandfather died at his hands…"
He gave a small shake of his head. "Never mind. Let's head inside."
"Wait… there's someone else," Moody cut in abruptly, raising his staff again.
Another sharp crack rang through the air.
"It's Remus!" Kingsley said at once.
"That's right… it's me, Alastor…" The newly arrived man raised his hands quickly in reassurance.
"For heaven's sake!" Moody barked. "How many times have I warned you? Don't Apparate directly to Grimmauld Place! What if a Death Eater tracks you? You should Apparate ten miles away, make sure the area's secure, then fly here on a broom!"
"Sorry—sorry," Remus Lupin said with an apologetic smile.
As Mad-Eye stalked off to recheck the surroundings, Kingsley gave Lupin a helpless grin. "Just back from Romania?"
"Yes. Finally settled things there," Lupin nodded. "The Romanian Ministry of Magic is rather difficult to negotiate with."
"No one followed us," Moody announced as he limped back, cutting them off. "Inside. Now."
Lupin and Kingsley fell silent.
Moody pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and muttered the words written on it. From an upstairs window of the nearest house came the muffled boom of a stereo, while the sour stench of rotting rubbish drifted from bulging bin bags beside a crumbling doorway.
Then, between numbers eleven and thirteen, a battered door appeared out of thin air. Grim walls and dark windows followed, as though an extra house had wedged itself into the row, squeezing the neighboring buildings aside.
"Move it," Moody growled.
He climbed the worn stone steps. The black paint on the door was chipped and scarred. A silver knocker shaped like a coiled serpent gleamed faintly. There was no keyhole, no letterbox.
Moody drew his wand and tapped the door.
Metal clanged loudly, followed by the rattle of chains.
The door creaked open.
...
"Merry Christmas, Alastor, Kingsley—oh! Remus is back too!"
Mrs. Weasley was tidying near the entrance. At the sight of the three arrivals, her face immediately lit up with warmth.
From a large wooden wireless nearby drifted the melodious voice of Celestina Warbeck, Mrs. Weasley's favorite singer.
"Merry Christmas, Molly!" Kingsley and Remus said together.
Moody muttered something as well, though the wireless drowned him out.
"The meeting's already started. Everyone's here except Professor Dumbledore—you know how busy he's been lately," Mrs. Weasley reminded them in a low voice.
The three of them hurried toward the meeting room.
The small space was already packed. They slipped in quietly.
Alastor took a seat at the front on the right. Kingsley sat between Tonks and Hestia Jones. As for Lupin—
"Remus!" an excited voice called from near the door. "It's been ages since I've seen you!"
"Harry!" Lupin exclaimed softly, stepping forward to give him a warm hug.
"You're looking better than before, old friend," Sirius Black said with a smile.
"Romania's been fairly comfortable," Lupin replied, exchanging a friendly fist bump with Sirius. "At least they're not quite as prejudiced against werewolves there. And you? How have these past six months treated you?"
"Same as ever—dull and stifling," Sirius said with a shrug. "I've been suggesting to Dumbledore that he let me transform into a dog and gather intelligence for the Order of the Phoenix. But he hasn't replied at all."
"Dumbledore is busy," Lupin said calmly. "You know what's been happening lately."
"Yes," Sirius nodded thoughtfully.
Noticing the curiosity in Potter's eyes, Lupin gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Harry, why don't you head upstairs and find Ron? The meeting's about to begin."
But instead of leaving with a disappointed expression, Harry simply smiled and shook his head.
Sirius grinned as well.
"That's right. Dumbledore has agreed… Harry is allowed to join the Order of the Phoenix."