❝ i'm chaos walking . . . ❞
❝ then i'll walk with you.❞
「 Liliana Granger knew chaos like the back of her hand.
It confronted her, challenging her to find calm wherever she could.
But some days...
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❝ We have each other. ❞
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Fall had arrived, covering London in rain and wind. The leaves had turned vibrant hues of red and yellow, and carved pumpkins decorated the front porches of homes in the city. Children played in the piled leaves their parents raked up in their front yards, and adults strode about with open umbrellas and warm tea in travel mugs. Both knew bliss that others in a secret world missed.
In that world, when daylight disappeared behind a canopy of twinkling stars, the Order of The Phoenix would meet. This secret society operated in the unassuming boroughs of Islington, where 12 Grimmauld Place sat hidden between two townhomes. The Order served to protect their world and the muggle world from the wizarding war that You-Know-Who had declared a decade ago. At the start, they had twenty active members; at present, they were down to half.
On one particular October night, the Order sat around a long, wooden table in a dingy dining room, their spirits weak with the discussion that echoed around them. Albus Dumbledore, one of their leaders, had been recounting the prophecy that Lyra, their brilliant potioneer, had made a week prior; she was only twenty-two but had wisdom beyond her years.
"Fate, especially that of a young child, is not to be taken delicately," Albus summed up. "So, we must concern ourselves with uncovering her identity in order to protect her."
There were small murmurs of agreement. Lily, a young woman with dark red hair, looked up at him; her emerald eyes searched his calm blue ones.
"Where do we start?" she asked.
"Anywhere we can." He put his hands together and sighed. "She is only one, and she is in the care of parents that don't know about her abilities. About our world."
A small choke sounded from across the room. Lyra put a hand to her mouth, blinking back tears. "What have I done?"
Everyone turned to her, pity painted across their faces. The man beside her took her hand in his, tapping a rhythmic pattern against her ivory skin. The war had not been kind to any of them, but her scars scorched deeper than the rest; they latched onto her soul, reminding her of the ability she could not shake.
Lyra sniffled, her eyes landing on Sirius, the drum of his finger settling the storm in her striking eyes. She squeezed his hand in thanks. Across from her, a woman in mauve robes watched with a twinge of melancholy. This war had yet to destroy them, and she prayed that it remained that way.
A lot had occurred between the Order over the years since the allegiance had been formed. They had bonded over deaths, births, and marriages, but they had become victims to the skepticisms of war. Hurt by the threats they received from death eaters, some took their paranoia out on each other; trust had become a word lost to the havoc.
"You're not to blame," a man with a kind, but scarred face spoke up. "You only advise us of what is already written in the stars."
Lyra reached her hand out across to him; her husband bit his tongue. "I know, but she's too young. We all are."
Remus nodded. He looked out at his friends - they were all burned by the ashes that had risen in the wake of You-Know-Who, but they were still standing tall. Lily and James were happy with their witty son Harry; Sirius and Lyra were at peace with their whimsy son Atlas; he and his wife Adhara were blessed with their warmhearted son Ben; and Peter, still shy but loyal, had them.
"We'll be okay," he said at last with a weak smile. "We have each other."
When the meeting disbanded, the head Order members (Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Alastor Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt) had devised a plan they could all use to identify the child in the prophecy. When they did, they promised to protect and prepare her with all the knowledge Hogwarts could provide.
On October 31st, a month to the day of their promise, they would find her. Her prophecy would be betrayed to You-Know-Who a week after their plan had been devised, her predictor would be killed in the pursuit of this knowledge, the whimsy and witty sons would wind up orphaned, and the Order that had vowed to protect her would disband.
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(author's thoughts)
━ the marauder's era never fails to break my heart :(
