On the New Year’s morning, the students and staff mbers gathered near the edge of the frozen lake.
The atmosphere held a sombre chill.
A coffin rested near a hole with its lid open, showing the still body of Remus Lupin.
He was carrying his wand between his fingers, and, in the stillness of death, he seed to... smile.
Dumbledore stood over the coffin and eyed the man, the sound of sobbing entering his ears. There was such despair in his surroundings that, for once, he found himself drowning in it.
If he wanted to, Lord Black Phoenix could consu their despair.
However, that would be no less than running away from reality — from the truth itself.
Only minutes ago, he had broken the news of what had happened last night to the students... to the entire world.
Dumbledore could still see the pale faces of his students.
He could still hear the owls’ hoots and the hiss of Patronus, demanding that he explain more.
Dumbledore could sense the anxiousness of many people, and rightfully so. Only a few months ago, he had claid that Voldemort’s leaving the Dark Alliance could be a good thing for them, as it would make the Dark Lord predictable.
Months later, Dumbledore was already chewing on that statent, tasting the most bitter flavor of those words.
Not only had he failed to predict the Dark Lord’s actual return, but he had... lost a good man, who would still be alive if he hadn’t recruited him at the beginning of the year, giving him the Dark Arts Professor’s job.
Dumbledore’s dark eyes beca darker as he sensed his own despair overwhelming him.
But like the despair of the students, he didn’t try to prevent it from happening to himself as well.
It was astonishing, Dumbledore realized, to see a man leave such a deep impression on people in re half a year.
Remus Lupin didn’t deserve this fate.
It was... just too soon to be true.
Is there... a way to...? Lord Black Phoenix asked, sensing the black flas burning in his heart. He was the last person who would care about dying, as death wasn’t sothing to be afraid of. Still...
[No.] The Phoenix’s cry landed in Dumbledore’s soul flatly. [Ti lies under Death’s Authority. I did what I could to tamper with the Ti Turners when He was away. Unless you want to et a sudden death, don’t even think about using another Ti Turner.]
Dumbledore ground his teeth as people ca forward to put flowers next to Lupin’s coffin.
This wasn’t just the simple death of a wizard. It was a blow to his people’s morale. If a Hogwarts teacher could die at Voldemort’s hands, then what was to prevent him from killing any other wizard?
Dumbledore could sll the sche in his bones.
It didn’t matter if it was indeed Yellow Warlock behind it or not.
He should have sensed it coming when the Order of the Immortal Lotus had called upon him to inform him of a new set of Contestants arriving in his world.
Nothing good had ever happened when he went to Avalon.
However, the matter had indeed been a grave one, forcing him to accept their summons, as, according to the Six, his tiline had already stopped accepting Contestants a long ti ago.
Who would have known that this would be the result of that... anomaly?
Now, the entire world’s forces he was gathering to build a resistance were in shambles. Fingers were being pointed at him for his inability to save the man right under his wing. Questions were being raised about his strength and his leadership skills. Doubts were being cast on his designs regarding the Order of Black Phoenix, like curses.
Dumbledore looked at Lupin’s face and... sighed.
Then, he looked up and tried to engrave all the faces.
Sirius was standing next to Harry, with his arm around the boy’s shoulder.
Dumbledore had, of course, revealed the truth about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Not all had believed him, but... he didn’t want all of them to believe him anyway. He wanted them to trust his words and get along with them with their eyes closed. That sounded like a mark of dictatorship, but if he waited to build trust in the people of the entire world, even a hundred years would fall short.
A few monts of falling into the enemy’s sche had cost him a good man.
Dumbledore had full trust that if he didn’t raise an army within a year, he would end up losing... everything.
His eyes shifted, and he continued to look at the faces.
Arlen Black, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Daphne, and other students... everyone held blurry eyes.
Not Darcie.
In this, the girl was like him, Dumbledore realized.
She was standing among the students, her eyes planted dead on Lupin’s face.
Sensing his gaze, Darcie looked up.
The professor and the student looked at each other, instantly seeing the flas of revenge burning in their hearts.
This world... needed a reckoning.
This world... needed to be purged of evil.
Dumbledore pointed his wand at the coffin.
The lid ca sliding on before the coffin lifted and gently placed itself in the grave.
Then, Dumbledore let go of his wand, and it fell, landing on the thin, snowy layer over the earth. He bent and began throwing dirt into the grave with his hands, carrying a fistful of cold soil each ti.
Soon, more hands began appearing around him.
Sirius joined his godson, with Darcie and her brother doing the sa next to them. More and more students, staff mbers, and even people who had arrived from outside ca forward, joining Dumbledore.
Snape didn’t, but he kept looking at his left hand, a thin, blurry image of the Dark Mark flashing now and then there, making him frown.
When it was done, Dumbledore picked up his wand, his fingers tightening around it.
This ti, when he looked at everyone, he found them looking back at him.
And, in that mont, Dumbledore had an epiphany.
He hadn’t created the Order of Black Phoenix six months ago, surrounded by questionable, doubtful, and fearful gazes.
It was now, among these people, with hope sprouting from the ashes of despair.
Because, at the end of the day, a Black Phoenix was still a Phoenix, and, for a Phoenix...
... all despairing endings were nothing but the ans to beget hopeful beginnings.
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Volu 24 - The Order of Black Phoenix - Ends!
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