Chapter 91: The Supreme Mage's Declaration
As Lupin's words hung in the air, Xenophilius Lovegood's mind reeled. He had heard of them. In the whispered tales of the last war, when the Ministry was compromised and terror reigned, it was Albus Dumbledore and his shadowy resistance—not the Aurors—who had been the true spine of the opposition. But the 'Order of the Phoenix' was a myth to most, a name spoken in hushed tones, its existence never confirmed by the victorious, credit-hogging Ministry. To have three of its members materialise in his living room via a sparkling hole in space was utterly overwhelming.
"The Order of the Phoenix?" Xenophilius breathed, his earlier suspicion drowned in a wave of awe and dread. "But… why here?"
Mad-Eye Moody, impatient with explanations, shoved past Sirius. His wooden leg thumped on the floor as he closed in on Elian, his bright blue magical eye whirring as it scanned the young man from head to toe with invasive intensity.
"You. Throne," Moody growled, his voice like grinding gravel. "The one Dumbledore says walks a different path. That your trick?"
Elian met the intimidating scrutiny without flinching. "It is. It's called a Sling Ring portal."
Moody grunted, impressed against his will by the boy's steadiness. Most seasoned fighters buckled under his glare. "A portal," he muttered. The concept wasn't new—Portkeys, Floo—but this was different. Instantaneous, silent, and created on the spot directly into the heart of the Order's most heavily protected location: 12 Grimmauld Place, under Fidelius Charm. The implications for security were staggering. Moody had been furious when Dumbledore suggested involving an outsider; now he understood the Headmaster's gamble. This was no ordinary student.
"Don't get your cloak in a twist, Moody," Sirius said, a reckless grin on his face as he examined the now-faded sparks in the air. "The kid's full of surprises. Dumbledore said he'd find us."
"He shouldn't have been able to!" Moody snapped, but his anger was mixed with a fierce, professional curiosity.
Elian cut through the brewing argument. "The specifics don't matter now. What matters is that they're here." He nodded towards the dark windows. "Outside. Right now."
Moody's demeanour shifted instantly from curiosity to predatory focus. "Right. Lupin, you stay with the Lovegoods. Black, with me. Let's see what filth the Dark Lord's sent us for Christmas." He turned, his cloak swirling, and began stump-thumping towards the door.
He only took two steps.
"You've misunderstood, Professor Moody," Elian's calm voice stopped him. "I asked Dumbledore for your help to protect Mr. Lovegood and Luna. The Death Eaters outside… they're mine to deal with. I don't require your assistance."
Moody froze, then slowly turned his head, his real eye wide, his magical one spinning to fix on Elian. Sirius barked a short, incredulous laugh. Lupin stared, his tired face etched with concern. Xenophilius looked as if Elian had just announced he was going to wrestle a troll single-handed.
Even Luna's dreamy expression sharpened into one of profound surprise.
Elian saw their disbelief and offered a faint, humourless smile. "It seems Professor Dumbledore didn't make the terms of our cooperation entirely clear. You are the shield. I am the sword."
He had no more time to debate. The oppressive, waiting silence outside was breaking. He could feel it—the System's threat-sense humming, the malevolent magic gathering like a storm.
He turned to leave. Moody, instinct overriding shock, moved to block him.
Then Moody stopped dead, his grizzled jaw going slack.
Because Elian Throne didn't walk. He lifted off the ground, hovering an inch above the floorboards. The crimson Levitation Cloak flared around him like wings.
Flight. True, wandless, effortless flight. It was magic of such profound, impossible difficulty that even Dumbledore, even Voldemort, required brooms or enchantments. Moody's magical eye whirred frantically, trying and failing to parse the power source.
Elian didn't glance back. He raised a hand towards the heavy, round front door. With a sharp gesture, as if sweeping away a cobweb, he made a pushing motion.
BOOM.
The door didn't just open. It exploded outwards, ripped from its hinges by an invisible, colossal force. Splinters and dust billowed into the frosty night. The violent sound shattered the peaceful Christmas Eve like a gunshot.
Elian floated through the ruined doorway into the darkness. He raised both hands now, and on each palm, intricate, blazing circles of golden-red light ignited—Mystic Shields, humming with contained power. The light etched his sharp features in stark relief, his grey eyes like chips of ice reflecting the magical fire.
From inside the house, the five witnesses—the battle-hardened Auror, the rebellious convict, the weary werewolf, the eccentric editor, and the dreamy seer—could only stare, utterly robbed of speech, at the awe-inspiring, terrifying silhouette framed in the doorway.
Elian drifted forward onto the snow-dusted lawn, hovering a foot above the ground. The night was bitterly cold and utterly silent, but he could feel them in the trees, in the shadows, their hatred a palpable stain on the air.
He let the silence stretch, let the fear of the hidden watchers curdle. Then he spoke, his voice clear, cold, and carrying, imbued with a power that was not Sonorous but something older, more commanding. It rolled across the clearing, into the forest, leaving no room for doubt.
"Come out."
A pause, filled with the hammering of hearts from the house behind him.
"You came for me, did you not? Or do you need a formal invitation?"
He spread his arms wider, the shields on his hands blazing like captured suns, casting long, dancing shadows into the woods.
"Step into the light, you lackeys of a broken lord. Your Supreme Mage is waiting."
In the trees, there was a sharp, collective intake of breath. Then, with rustles of cloth and the soft cracks of Apparition, dark figures began to detach themselves from the shadows, wands raised, their silver masks gleaming in the light from his hands.
The hunt was accepted.
(End of Chapter)
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