Second Chance || Harry Potter x Reader

The Rescue | ˚₊✩‧₊

Harry's POV
。ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈·ﾟ。

The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint tick of a clock somewhere downstairs. I was sitting on my bed, staring at the blank ceiling, my mind racing with thoughts of the letter from the Ministry. Expelled. The word echoed in my head, a constant reminder of what I'd lost.

Suddenly, I heard hushed and muffled whispers coming from outside my room. I sat up, straining to catch any recognizable words. The whispers grew louder, and the door creaked open.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted out, startled to see a group of familiar faces standing in the doorway.

"Rescuing you, of course," growled Mad-Eye Moody, his magical eye whizzing around to scan the room.

Professor Moody, Tonks, Remus Lupin, and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood there, looking determined. Tonks gave me a reassuring smile as she stepped inside, her hair a vivid shade of bubblegum pink.

"We need to move quickly," Kingsley said in his deep, calm voice. "Grab your things, Harry."

I hastily threw a few essentials into my backpack, my heart pounding. "But... what's going on? I thought I was expelled."

Moody grunted. "Not entirely true. Dumbledore managed to get you a hearing. The letter was a scare tactic. Dumbledore convinced the Ministry to give you a chance to defend yourself."

Tonks added, "We'll explain everything when we get back to headquarters."

Tonks gave Moody a pointed look. "Not here, Nymphadora."

Tonks scowled. "Don't call me Nymphadora."

We left the house and summoned brooms. I followed them into the night sky, my heart racing with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

。ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈·ﾟ。

It felt like an eternity before we finally descended into a narrow, shadowy alley in the heart of London. The city above was alive with the usual hustle and bustle, but here, in the depths of the alley, the noise faded to a distant murmur. The air was thick with the scent of damp brick and something ancient, something that whispered of long-forgotten secrets. The atmosphere clung to my skin, heavy and suffocating.

Tonks moved ahead, her footfalls echoing softly against the cobblestones. She approached what appeared to be nothing more than a blank space between two towering houses, their pristine facades a stark contrast to the oppressive gloom of the alley. Without a word, she pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from her pocket, the edges worn and tattered as though it had been handled countless times. With a quick glance, she handed it to me, her expression unreadable.

"Just read it quickly, Harry," Tonks instructed, her voice a low whisper, the tension in her tone unmistakable.

I unfolded the parchment with slightly trembling hands and read the inked words scrawled across the surface: The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

"Watch closely now," Moody added, his magical eye whizzing about, surveying the alley for any signs of trouble.

As I stared at the parchment, the air seemed to ripple and shift, as if reality itself was bending to reveal a hidden truth. Slowly, the brick walls began to part, peeling away like layers of an onion, until a grand, ancient house emerged from the void. It stood squeezed between its neighbors, the grandeur of its architecture diminished by the peeling paint and the sense of dark foreboding that oozed from every crevice. Unlike the surrounding houses, which were well-kept and brightly lit, Grimmauld Place seemed to absorb the light, casting long, sinister shadows that stretched out like claws.