𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 (𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟐)

1 - The Order of the Phoenix

August 12th, 1995

"Harry Potter was attacked by death eaters last night. We believe this occurrence has something to do with The Dark Lord's return. This was no coincidence. This letter has been sent to Potter's closest friends and Hogwarts family on behalf of Albus Dumbledore. You will all be transported to Grimmauld Place on August 13th at eight o'clock PM sharp, given to us kindly by Sirius Black to hold the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry Potter's hearing will take place on August 15th, at eleven o'clock AM. He is unaware of our meeting. On Dumbledore's orders, do not attempt to tell Harry of our plans.

We will be recruiting witches and wizards to search for information regarding The Dark Lord's whereabouts, as well as fight against his heavily growing army. We lost friends and family in the war ten years ago, we do not want a repeat of the past. Please keep this information to yourselves. Thank you all for your cooperation.

- Remus Lupin

CAROLINE'S POV

My father handed me the letter during breakfast. "You sure you're up for it?" he asked. "Of course I am," I insisted, placing the letter down on the table. "Are you coming too?" I looked up at him. "I was a close friend of the Potters. I wouldn't miss it for the world," he stood up, planting a kiss on my head as he closed the morning paper. "I suggest you go pack your belongings, we won't be returning home," he exclaimed.

Lorelei slept soundly on my bed, cuddled up in a small ball. I turned on my radio, soft music playing in the background as I snooped through my closet, placing my best pieces on the floor. My favorite ripped jeans. A white sweater. My boots, and sneakers. I tucked my items inside of my suitcases, placing them next to the door. I wondered how they would be transporting us to this so called Grimmauld Place. Despite my nervousness, I was excited to see my friends again.

I'd definitely changed a bit over the summer. My jawline was just a tad bit sharper, my waist slightly more curvy, my height a few inches taller. I had a slight tan from spending the summer on the small balcony we had outside our apartment. I missed the large backyard outside of our beautiful cottage, but I knew I'd probably never go back. It had been completely abandoned.

We spent the day quietly. I'd always had an amazing and close bond with my father, but ever since The Dark Lord had returned, he'd been distant from me. I think he feared they might come back for me; for us. The daytime swiftly turned to night and I fell asleep comfortably in my bed, a feeling of excitement washing over my body. I'd always wanted to feel like this; like a part of something important. This was finally my chance.

I woke up early the next morning, Draco's sweater in my arms, it's scent beginning to fade. I hated waking up alone. I missed waking up to Draco. I'd only woken up with him twice, but those moments felt so perfect. I missed him brushing the hair out of my face when I'd wake up on his chest. I'd read the copy of The Giver he gave me over the summer to refresh my memory. It all seemed so similar when I'd read it over, as though I'd memorized it despite being asleep in his arms when he read it to me.

I groggily got out of bed, Lorelei prancing out into the kitchen. "Morning," my father sat at the table, sipping his coffee, his paper in his hand. Every morning with him was the same, and I loved him for it. Every morning I could remember since I was a baby, I would walk into the kitchen to see him sipping his coffee in his suit dressed for work, holding that morning's The Daily Prophet newspaper. Of course since we'd moved houses, things had been a little different.

Instead of an owl giving us the news, he'd leave early to pick it up at the Leaky Cauldron down the street, making sure not to wake me as he left. Mother wasn't there to sit at the other end of the table, handing us each a homemade croissant, picking a different flavor each morning. Mondays were original, Tuesdays almond, Wednesdays buttercream, Thursdays blueberry, Fridays chocolate, Saturdays honey, Sundays strawberry. Of course the croissants each morning had turned to Froot Loops or Cheerios with a glass of orange juice. Every now and then Dad made bacon and eggs. Maybe I would make Mom's croissants for my kids one day. I'm sure the recipe is lying around the house somewhere.

"How long will we be staying at Grimmauld Place?" I asked him as I grabbed a bowl and spoon out of the cabinets, taking the milk out of the fridge and cereal from the pantry.

"Until you go back to school, then I'll return home," he explained. I nodded as I filled my bowl with cereal, pouring milk over it. I placed my cereal on the table in front of my chair. "You mind if I have a cup of coffee?" I asked light heartedly. I didn't expect him to say yes, he didn't like when I drank caffeine. "Go ahead, you deserve it," he said, not looking up from his paper. "Thanks," I kissed his cheek, then walked up to the coffee machine.

My father was wise. He reminded me of Atticus from To Kill a Mockingbird. Despite our pure bloodline, he'd let me read famous muggle literature as a child. I made my coffee, leaving a quarter of the mug empty for cream and sugar. After making my brew, I sat down with him at the table. I ate slowly, devouring every bite of my Froot Loops, chewing loudly. Something I loved about my father was that he never tried to force me to act like a 'lady'. I think I'd go out of my mind if he did.

Something that had never changed in our apartment was the amount of chairs that sat around the kitchen table. Three of them, so Mother could sit with us. I'd put the chair there ever since we moved when I was six, and Father hadn't moved it since. "Go grab your bags and place them by the front door," he waved at me. I stood up, quickly placing my dishes in the sink, then returned to my room, staring out my window into the streets of London. In just a few hours, I'd be back with my friends. But that was all I had thought through in the moment. I never thought to myself the dark topics we'd be discussing. We might all be together again, but under what circumstances?

Something this year was off. It didn't feel as blissful as it should; the air felt heavier.

It definitely had to do with Voldemort.