Order of the Phoenix

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Ethan turned to leave, but Dumbledore's voice stopped him mid-way.

"Ethan, perhaps we could talk?"

Ethan hesitated before nodding.

"No problem."

"This isn't the best place for such discussions," Dumbledore said lightly.

"Allow me to treat you to a drink."

With that, they stepped into the Leaky Cauldron.

The warm, dimly lit pub bustled with chatter, the scent of butterbeer and firewhiskey lingering in the air.

"A bottle of redcurrant rum, if you please, Tom," Dumbledore called to the barkeep before guiding Ethan to a secluded corner.

As soon as they settled into their seats, Dumbledore's tone shifted, growing earnest.

"Ethan, I must thank you for everything you've done in the fight against Voldemort."

Ethan took a sip of the fiery red liquor, the burn settling in his throat.

"No need for thanks, Dumbledore. Defeating Voldemort is a goal we share."

Dumbledore studied him for a moment before continuing.

"I suspect you may already be aware—there is an organization within the wizarding world called the Order of the Phoenix."

Ethan set his glass down, intrigued. He hadn't expected Dumbledore to bring up the Order so directly.

"I've heard whispers," he said evenly.

Dumbledore nodded. "The Order was formed to resist Voldemort when he first rose to power. Many wizards paid the ultimate price in that fight… but we prevailed."

Ethan's expression darkened slightly. He understood that when Dumbledore spoke of 'price,' he meant lives—many of them.

"And now, with Voldemort's return, I have reassembled the Order," Dumbledore continued.

"We have gathered those willing to stand against him once more." He leaned forward slightly.

"Ethan, I wish to invite you to join us."

Ethan didn't hesitate. "Dumbledore, while our goals align, our methods do not. I prefer my own way."

A shadow flickered behind Dumbledore's blue eyes, but he merely inclined his head.

"I see. You believe my approach is… costly."

Ethan held his gaze. "You have never hesitated to make sacrifices—even of those who follow you."

Dumbledore said nothing for a moment, merely watching Ethan as if weighing his next words carefully.

Then, he smiled—a knowing, quiet smile.

"I understand your reservations," he said.

"After all, you have ambitions of your own."

Ethan's fingers tightened slightly around his glass.

"And what ambitions would those be?"

Dumbledore's piercing gaze met his.

"You seek the office of Minister of Magic."

Ethan didn't react outwardly, but inside, his mind was racing. He hadn't expected Dumbledore to lay it out so plainly.

"You surprise me, Headmaster," Ethan said at last.

"But I suppose I shouldn't be."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Ethan, I am not here to stand in your way. Quite the opposite. I can help you achieve what you desire."

Ethan arched a brow. "And why would you do that?"

"Because," Dumbledore said, leaning forward,

"Cornelius Fudge was a serviceable Minister during peacetime. But these are not peaceful times. The Ministry will soon need new leadership—someone who can rise to the occasion."

His blue eyes gleamed. "And I believe that someone is you."

Ethan studied him, searching for the catch. Dumbledore never made an offer without purpose.

Ethan's expression darkened as he met Dumbledore's gaze.

"I've only just joined the Ministry. I'm hardly qualified to run for Minister."

Dumbledore's blue eyes remained steady.

"Voldemort's return is imminent. The Ministry is in dire need of a leader—someone with vision, strength, and the resolve to act."

He paused. "I believe you are that person."

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "So, if I join the Order of the Phoenix, you'll use your influence to make me Minister?"

Dumbledore exhaled softly. "It may sound transactional, but yes. I assure you, my only interest is in defeating Voldemort. I have no selfish motives."

Ethan fell silent, his mind racing. On the surface, it seemed a simple bargain—but he knew better.

Joining the Order meant surrendering a level of autonomy.

It meant stepping into Dumbledore's world, where sacrifices were made without hesitation and pawns were played with precision.

He had seen Dumbledore's ruthlessness before. The same man who had once retreated under pressure from the Ministry was now ready to remove Fudge entirely.

What had changed? Had something pushed Dumbledore to abandon caution and take control of the fight on his own terms?

And if he could so easily install a new Minister… he could just as easily remove one.

Ethan's fingers tightened slightly against the glass.

He weighed his options, knowing that refusing Dumbledore could mean being sidelined—or worse.

Finally, he let out a slow breath.

"I'll join the Order of the Phoenix," he said softly.

Dumbledore's lips curled into a smile, his long white eyebrows lifting with satisfaction.

"Very good. Thank you, Ethan."

Ethan, however, felt no relief—only a strange, creeping chill.

Dumbledore raised the jug of redcurrant rum and poured them each a glass.

"To our cooperation," he said warmly.

Ethan lifted his glass, the two crystal goblets meeting with a crisp chime before they both drank.

Setting his glass down, Dumbledore's expression shifted slightly.

"Now then, Ethan, we must return to Hogwarts. There are matters we need to discuss."

Ethan nodded. "Alright."

A moment later, green flames engulfed them as they stepped into the Floo network from the Leaky Cauldron.

When Ethan landed smoothly, he found himself in the familiar surroundings of the headmaster's office.

The space was filled with the soft ticking of silver instruments, the occasional rustle of Fawkes in his perch, and the glow of enchanted candlelight.

His gaze immediately fell upon the shallow stone basin resting on a stand—the intricate runes etched into its edges unmistakable.

A Pensieve.