Dark Prince Rises by Ronin2106

Chapter 2

Grimmauld Place 12. Four days after Henry's "death".

Nymphadora Tonks pushed the door open into the familial house of Black family, though it didn't seem to be a house in which a powerful and respected family like Blacks would live anymore. Walls seemed decaying and rotting, little lighting in the house, dust filled places- all pointed towards this place having been abandoned in a long time, and it really was. Even though it had a house elf looking after it, Kreacher, the place has been dying, all because there were no masters living here, until most recently, as Albus Dumbledore has decided to reform his Order of Phoenix, with Grimmauld Place serving as its HQ.

Apparently, the old coot believed that since the place officially empty, nobody would come looking here for them. Plus, with Black wards still active and Sirius being able to set up the list of guests, it seemed like a perfectly suited place for the regular meetings. Although, if Tonks was completely honest with herself, she, along with her Mom and Aunt Cassiopeia, suspected that Dumbledore also wanted to get his hands on the library of House of Black, along with all the artifacts that were here. Well, too bad for them, Grandpa Arcturus had everything of such sort removed out of house, much to the ire of Sirius and his pals.

The only thing of magical property remaining here was the portrait of Walburga Black, which was hidden behind the thick curtains and silenced by a charm, to prevent it from screaming bloody murder. She had heard from her Black relatives, minus Sirius, that she Walburga whiles a prideful and willful, was still a calm and caring mother, nothing like her portrait. Nymphadora had no idea what had brought about that change, nor did she wanted to lose a night's sleep over it. Right now, she had a little spectacle to play in front of the Order.

As she passed through the hallway and towards the dining room, she nearly tripped, typically of her clumsiness. Next second, Nymphadora looked at the cause of her recent bout of clumsiness.

"Ow, Kreacher, watch were you apparate, will ya?" Tonks said to the house elf, who muttered to something to himself, before speaking up.

"Kreacher is sorry, Mistress Tonks. Kreacher will look out where he goes when Mistress Tonks is around." He respectfully spoke, obeying the orders of Lord Arcturus, before looked at the dining room with a sneer. "Filthy blood traitor and his filthy friends is here, Mistress. They talk of Dark Lord and something about in place of mysteries, but nothing about Exiled Master and Little Mistress, Mistress. Shackling Bolts being there as well, Mistress Tonks."

"Well, good to hear, and keep listening, Kreacher." Tonks saw the elf nod to her eagerly. "Remember what to do when they leave?"

"Kreacher remembers and obeys, Mistress Tonks." He bowed to her. "Kreacher serves only the true Blacks. Mistress Tonks be needing anything else?"

"Nah, I'm good. You go on ahead." With a pop, the elf was gone and Nymphadora went in ahead.

Just as the loyal elf told her, practically the entirety of the Order was already assembled here, with all nearly all the Weasleys, minus Percy, Potters, with their son. Sirius and Remus, whose scarred face adorned a blackened spot on the left side of it as a reminder of his attack on Henry, stood near scarred Alastor Moody, Kingsley, who sent her a quick nod, and Hestia Jones, also greeting her with it as well. There some faces she didn't quite recognize, but she quickly recognized two teachers of Hogwarts in here, namely Minerva McGonagall, and the scarred and partially disfigured face of Severus Snape.

Even to this day, looking at the man caused shivers to run along her spine. And with reason too, as he had adorned two long wide open scars, one running diagonally across his face, starting from right side of chin, going upwards to slashed lips, past nose and ending at forehead on left. His second scar was on his right side, a wide gash running down with half his ear slashed off. The sight of the man was somehow even worse than that of Alastor Moody, who was practically a walking talking scar himself. It's actually a miracle that Henry's spell was actually relatively weak, or otherwise, Snape would've died back in Chamber, not that Tonks or many others would grieve for the man.