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Chapter One: The Midnight Visitor
 

Silver shafts of moonlight stabbed down on the water from a fierce moon sailing through the northern sky. These blades of light glistened on the feathers of a great bird soaring through the cool, midnight air. Its red and orange plumage danced like fire as it swooped over Edinburgh’s rooftops.

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It glided lower, spotting its destination: a small house with a manicured garden. The bird descended, ready to relieve itself of its burden.

Meanwhile, Harry Hogg was dreaming.

“Harry! Hurry up! You’re late for your potions exam!”

His friends, Nancy and Jack, walked toward him, but their faces blurred and shifted into the faces of his parents.

“Not Harry! Not Harry, please!” his mother shrieked.

“Stand aside, girl!” said a cold voice.

Harry woke in a sweat. Streetlamp light cut through his window. All summer, nightmares had plagued him — of his parents, and of Steve’s death at the end of the Triwizard Tournament at the HogPen Old People’s Home.

Guilt gnawed at him. He’d told Steve to take the cup, leading him straight to Nancy Mort.

A tapping came at his window. Expecting his owl, Hedwig, Harry got up. His jaw dropped.

“Fawkes,” he breathed.

Dumbledore’s phoenix flew in and landed on his bed. Harry sat beside it, stroking its warm, scarlet feathers. The bird’s comforting glow banished the nightmare.

“What are you doing here?” Harry murmured.

Fawkes held out its leg. Tied to it was a scroll. Harry untied it, and the phoenix at once spread its wings and soared back into the night, leaving the room cold and gray once more.

Harry unrolled the parchment. A crest showed a phoenix rising from fire, holding a scroll inscribed: Lumen Obscurum Vinco

In the center was a square the size of a postage stamp. In the dim light, colors moved faintly within it. Harry brought it closer.

As his nose brushed the square, he was pitched forward and fell into the page.

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Chapter One, Part Two: The Order of the Phoenix

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Wind whipped Harry’s hair as he tumbled onto a cold flagstone floor. His glasses flew off and shattered. Disoriented, he squinted. Blurred shapes surrounded a massive table with seats for hundreds. Witches and wizards began Apparating in, wearing red robes trimmed with gold, each bearing the phoenix crest.

At the far end, Harry saw long silver hair.

“Reparo,” said a familiar voice.

His repaired glasses were pressed into his hand. Hermione stood beside him.

“What’s going on?” Harry whispered.

“I don’t know, I—” she began, cut off by a yelp.

A tangled mass of robes and limbs landed behind them. A shock of ginger hair revealed Ron.

Harry helped him up.

“I got this scroll—” Harry began.

“—and when I opened it, I was transported here,” Hermione finished.

“Me too!” Ron added.

The room fell silent.

A hundred witches and wizards stared at them.

“Thank you for arriving,” Dumbledore said, standing. “Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix…”

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Chapter Two: Dumbledore

 

A raw scream tore through the night. Harry collapsed to his knees on the frosted grass.

“They’re dead…” he whispered.

Hands grabbed his nightshirt, pulling him from the heat. Sirens wailed.

Harry looked up into Mrs. Figg’s face.

“Arabella, take Harry to your house,” Dumbledore said. “I’ll sort this out.”

Harry was pulled to his feet and away until cold closed around him like a cloak. Exhaustion and shock set in. Before his head hit the pillow, he was dreaming.

• ​

“The fire’s out, and the firefighters’ memories are modified. Now, Harry… that’s a different matter,” Dumbledore sighed.

Harry lay on the bed in Mrs. Figg’s spare room, on the edge of wakefulness. He opened his eyes to see shadows standing around him.

“Dumbledore, was it… him?” said an anxious voice. Sirius.

“Yes. Voldemort killed Harry’s family before destroying the house and casting the Mark.”

“So they’re dead,” Harry said.

They turned, surprised he was awake.

“Oh, Harry, I’m sorry,” Sirius exclaimed, sitting beside him and gripping his hand.

“It’s okay. They hated me,” Harry mumbled, fighting tears.

“Harry,” said Dumbledore, “the pain may seem strong now, but you will overcome it, and use it. Voldemort will pay for every life he takes. Don’t give up hope.” His eyes held a fire Harry had never seen. “Now, please leave Harry. I must notify people. Harry, would you like Sirius to stay?”

“Yeah,” Harry said as the others left, all wearing Order robes.

Dumbledore swept out. Sirius sat on the bed’s edge.

“Sirius,” Harry said after a silence. “Why do I feel like this? I hated them. I imagined life with them gone and was happy. Now they are gone, and I feel terrible for thinking it.”

“Harry, they were still your family. There was still a blood bond,” Sirius tried to explain.

“Oh, right.” Harry turned over and pulled the covers over his head.

Sirius, feeling the conversation had ended, got up and left. He wished he could tell Harry it would be all right. But he didn’t know. How much can one boy take?

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Chapter Two, Part Two: The Unexpected Gift
 

A hundred miles away, Ron sat huddled by the fire at The Burrow.

Why does this always happen to me?

 Hermione is intelligent, Harry is brave. I’m good at chess. How do I battle evil with a chessboard?

He had no idea what Dumbledore meant about “extraordinary talents” and a “key.”

A knock came at the front door—unusual for the Burrow. Ron answered to find a man in a smart blue uniform.

“Delivery for Mr. Ronald Weasley. I’m with the Scription Wizarding Post Office. Creature delivery, Muggle way. Regulations.”

He handed Ron a small wooden crate with air holes and a scroll, then apparated away.

The scroll read:

Dear Mr. Weasley,
As part of your new role, you are entrusted with a rare magical creature, selected for its compatibility with your talents. It will grow alongside you. Treat it with care, respect, and courage.
Remember: Not everything is as it seems. Albus Dumbledore

Ron unlatched the crate. Inside was a creature the size of a cat, with midnight-blue fur and intelligent silver eyes. Delicate, iridescent wings fluttered at its sides. It chirped, nudging his hand, and purred a melodic hum.

A glowing rune appeared on its forehead, pulsed, and faded.

The creature fluttered to his shoulder. Ron chuckled nervously. “Well, I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Deep down, a flicker of hope sparked. Maybe he wasn’t so ordinary after all.

• ​

At dinner, Mrs. Weasley set her fork down. “I’ve troubling news. About Harry.”

Ron sat straighter. “What’s happened?”

“His aunt, uncle, and cousin… they’re dead. Their house was attacked by Voldemort.”

A gasp rippled. Ginny’s hand flew to her mouth.

“But… Harry hated them. Why?” Ron asked.

“It was a message,” Mr. Weasley said gently. “To hurt Harry.”

“Harry’s at Mrs. Figg’s, safe for now,” Mrs. Weasley added, eyes glistening.

Ginny took Ron’s hand. “We have to do something.”

“I’ll write to him tonight,” Ron said resolutely.

The creature, Cupio, chirped softly from Ginny’s lap.

• ​

In Mrs. Figg’s spare room, Harry stared at the full moon. It would be his birthday soon, but he couldn’t look forward to it.

Everything in his life was because of Voldemort. His parents. Now the Dursleys. All the pain.

Now he understood Dumbledore’s words: “use it.”

A need for revenge burned inside him. He would make Voldemort pay.

He glanced at his watch: midnight. He wondered what this year would bring.

Deep down, he knew the answer.

Death.​

 

Chapter Three: The Burrow and the Dream

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Harry walked an empty street lined with grand, bare trees.He stopped at a gate: Potter Hole, Godric’s Hollow. He pushed it open, excited to see his parents. He called their names. No answer. He passed The Burrow—empty. Lupin’s home, Hermione’s, Dumbledore’s—all empty.

He reached a last gate: Cemetery. He pushed it open and ran up a steep path into a clearing. It was dark. He shivered, wanting to leave.

A stone blocked his path: Lily Potter, 1960–1981. Every path was blocked. James Potter. Ronald Weasley. Hermione Granger. Sirius Black. Remus Lupin. Albus Dumbledore.

“So, Harry, you’ve finally realized,” said a cold voice.

Voldemort stood before him. “Have you put it together? Why so many have died? It’s you. You bring death to all you know. Avada Kedavra!“

Harry screamed awake, sweating and shaking.

“Harry, it’s okay,” Sirius soothed, awakened by his yell.

• ​

The next morning, Harry was subdued until Dumbledore brought breakfast and a letter.

We will be delighted to take Harry for the rest of the summer. We’ll pick him up at 2 p.m.
Molly Weasley

Harry smiled for the first time in days.

Mrs. Weasley arrived and pulled him into a tight hug. “We’ll always be there for you.”

Ten minutes later, Harry stepped through the Floo into The Burrow. Ron was at the table with a strange creature rolling around.

“Hey Harry.”

“Hi Ron. What’s that?”

“This is Cupio. You’ll never guess where I got him…” Ron launched into the story.

For a while, Harry forgot his troubles.

• ​

After dinner, under the pretence of watching Ron teach Cupio tricks, they discussed the Order.

“Nothing!” Hermione exclaimed. “Not one mention in any book!”

“It’s a secret society,” Ron said. “They wouldn’t announce it.”

“I think Dumbledore’s right,” Hermione said. “Staying here is best. But we have to be prepared.”

“How?” Ron asked. “We’ve got no leads.”

“We look out for each other,” Hermione finished softly. “As long as we stick together, we’ll be alright.”
 

Chapter Four, Part One: The Ghost Train
 

The rest of the summer passed in a mix of normalcy and tension. Cupio charmed everyone. Harry’s nights were still plagued by nightmares, but at The Burrow, he found moments of peace.

On his birthday, they visited Merlin’s Magical Wonderland. The highlight was “The Ghost Train.” They emerged from the haunted ride in hysterics, having found it more hilarious than frightening.

That evening, a celebration awaited at The Burrow. Mrs. Weasley’s cake had icing that showed Harry on a miniature Firebolt.

Among his gifts were two leather-bound yearbooks from Sirius—his parents’ Hogwarts yearbooks, filled with moving photos and notes. Harry clutched them, feeling a tangible connection to the parents he’d never known.

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The summer ended with no news of Voldemort. One morning, the Daily Prophet arrived. The headline read: “Werewolves to Work for the Ministry.”

Harry grinned. “About time.” He hoped Lupin had seen it.

As he put the paper down, a smaller article caught his eye: “Firelights Return to Godric’s Hollow.”

A photo showed a family outside a large house: a tall man, a shorter woman, and a girl about Harry’s age with long black hair and striking eyes.

The article explained that the Firelights were an old wizarding family, awarded the Order of Merlin for defeating Death Eaters in 1981. They’d fled after a second attack on their daughter, Catalina, and had now returned.

Catalina would be a fifth-year at Hogwarts.

Harry felt uneasy. He handed the paper to Ron and Hermione. Ron missed it, but Harry watched Hermione. Her eyes widened; she glanced at him nervously, then said nothing.

His suspicion deepened.

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​​Chapter Four, Part Two: News and Unease
 

The summer ended with no news of Voldemort.

 One morning, the Daily Prophet arrived. The headline read: “Werewolves to Work for the Ministry.”

Harry grinned. “About time.” He hoped Lupin had seen it.

As he put the paper down, a smaller article caught his eye: “Firelights Return to Godric’s Hollow.”

A photo showed a family outside a large house: a tall man, a shorter woman, and a girl about Harry’s age with long black hair and striking eyes.

The article explained that the Firelights were an old wizarding family, awarded the Order of Merlin for defeating Death Eaters in 1981. They’d fled after a second attack on their daughter, Catalina, and had now returned.

Catalina would be a fifth-year at Hogwarts.

Harry felt uneasy. He handed the paper to Ron and Hermione. Ron missed it, but Harry watched Hermione. Her eyes widened; she glanced at him nervously, then said nothing.

His suspicion deepened.

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Chapter Five: The Shared Dream
 

At three in the morning, Ron was awake, troubled since he’d inexplicably entered Harry’s dream days before. He hadn’t told Harry.

Harry moaned in his sleep. Ron panicked. What if it was the nightmare again?

Static filled the room. Ron’s vision went black, then returned in patches. He was no longer in his bedroom, but in a manicured garden before a mansion. A sign read: Firelight Heights, Godric’s Hollow.

A girl stood there. “Hello, Harry.”

Ron tried to say, “I’m not Harry.” Instead, his mouth said, “Hello, Lanie.”

“So you’ve come back? I missed you.”

“Why are you back?” Ron/Harry asked.

“We’re here to fight the darkness. We are the light.”

“My parents are coming. They won’t like to see you. You’d better go.” She looked anxious.

Ron turned and ran. Glancing back, he saw Catalina’s parents behind her, shaking their fists. He turned forward—a tree materialized. He crashed into it.

He jolted awake. Harry sat up at the same moment.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, seeing Ron’s pale face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Nothing—headache,” Ron lied. “You were making noise. What were you dreaming?”

“Can’t remember,” Harry said.

Ron turned over, his mind racing. Who was Lanie?

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A week before Hogwarts, the Hogwarts letters arrived. Harry’s, Ron’s, and Hermione’s were thicker than usual. Inside was a note from Professor McGonagall: each had been selected as a Prefect.

Ron stared at his badge in disbelief. “I’m a Prefect?”

Hermione beamed. “All three of us!”

Mrs. Weasley burst with pride, hugging Ron tightly.

As the excitement settled, Harry’s mind drifted back to the Firelights and the gnawing feeling that something big was about to begin.

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