Chapter Text
Albus Dumbledore hummed as he ran his fingers over the spines of the books in front of him.
The Gods were gracious enough to provide a recounting of the tales of Their greatest hero, as Dumbledore knew that without an explanation, many in his Order would not accept the (hard-won) help of the Greeks. For many reasons, some valid, some less so, he mused - Molly Weasley likely would throw a fit at willingly bringing in any child into a warzone (a respectable stance), versus those who would turn their noses up at their help due to their lack of traditional Wizarding magic, or even their ‘half-blood’ status.
So They had provided him with an explanation, shown through the eyes of Percy Jackson - who was integral to both the Titan and Giant Wars, but was also introduced to the world of the Greeks in a way that would be the least confusing to those unfamiliar with this other, secret society. Annabeth Chase’s perspective, for example, would assume too much of the reader as she had grown up in this world. Jason Grace was raised by wolves and had nominally served in the Legion since he could walk. Leo Valdez and Piper McLean, as involved as they were in the Second Gigantomachy, had only joined Camp Half-Blood after the Titan War and thus their perspectives lacked the necessary explanations needed for someone new to their world.
Thus, Percy Jackson. A charming, funny and humble hero, powerful and sly. Chiron had sung his praises to Dumbledore in their occasional Iris-Messages, and from what he could gather, he shared many similarities with Harry - and Dumbledore hoped that from reading Percy’s experiences (and hopefully meeting with him soon), his Order would be able to respect these battle-hardened children, and Harry would learn to handle war.
Fawkes trilled softly from his perch. He approved of Percy, Dumbledore knew - there were few of a purer heart than Percy Jackson. He held out a sharp talon to accept the note that Dumbledore had written to summon the Order. Usually he would not deign to be treated like a messenger owl, but he deemed this important enough that he had no complaints.
12, Grimmauld Place had never been more crowded.
Of course, Order meetings had been held here before, but usually there were quite a few members missing, off on missions, or simply tied up in unrelenting work hours. This was likely, therefore, the first time that Grimmauld Place had ever housed so much life and sound - but Harry found that he loved it. After the painful monotony of Little Whinging, the stares and temperament of the Hogwarts students and the new gloominess of Diagon Alley, the liveliness and love apparent in the residents of Grimmauld Place was surprisingly refreshing.
Dumbledore coughed, the sound somehow carrying across the hubbub, and everyone immediately quieted and turned to look at him.
“I am sure that you are all wondering what I have called you here for,” he said. “And I will explain in due time, but as I explain, all I ask is that you suspend your disbelief.” He waited for everyone to acquiesce. “I have found potential allies, but they are different to us, in a way. I also know that if they just turned up one day, many of you would refuse their help without knowing their backgrounds. Therefore, I have brought you all here to read about their lives, from the perspective of a great hero, so that you can understand their experiences and qualifications.”
“What do you mean by ‘not like us’, Professor?” asked Hermione. She raised an eyebrow. “If this is some blood-purist thing-”
“To some extent, yes, Miss Granger,” responded Albus Dumbledore. “Of course, I do not subscribe to this belief, and once their heritage is revealed, I hardly believe anyone in this room would believe themselves superior. However, I am aware of some of the politics of those in this room, and I am wary,” here he levelled a surprisingly hard glare at those he knew were guilty of this, “that they will jump to preconceived notions and conclusions, thereby disrespecting these potential allies. I trust that you will be able to keep these beliefs to yourself?” This last part was directed very pointedly, and there were a few murmurs of annoyed agreement.
“I suppose we should make ourselves comfortable then,” fretted Molly Weasley. “If we are reading about their experiences, I suppose it will take a while, and I doubt most of us want to remain standing.”
“Indeed, Molly,” said Dumbledore. “What we are to read now spans several books, and will likely only be completely over the course of days, or even weeks. It would be most prudent to find a ‘reading space’.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that Grimmauld Place has the space to do that - it can hardly accommodate all of us just standing here! And despite your power, Albus, I doubt that you can alter the wards on this house, as old as they are. Where else could all of us assemble in a comfortable manner?”
Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I suppose Hogwarts is free,” he admitted. “All the teachers have gone home for the holidays, and although it is usually not to be used over the holidays, these are highly extenuating circumstances. I believe young Harry knows of a room that we can use?”
“The Room of Requirement,” said Harry.
Lupin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think we ever found that one,” he said, curious. “What do you mean by that?”
Harry grinned up at him. “It’s also called the Come and Go Room,” he explained to Lupin, though it was also for the benefit of everyone else not in the know. “It’s on the seventh floor, opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy - the one with the dancing trolls. To access it you have to pace back and forth three times, thinking about what you need - and a door will appear, leading you to a room with whatever you wished for.”
“Within limits, of course,” Hermione added on. “Same rules of magic apply to the Room - Gamp’s Laws still are in effect, so no magically conjured food, for example.”
“I believe that the Room of Requirement would be suitable for our needs,” mused Dumbledore. “If anyone has any unfinished business, I would ask you to take care of it by dawn tomorrow, as that is when I would like us to depart for Hogwarts. It would be remiss of us to delay this any longer. Now off to bed, all of us! It is rather early for sleep, but we will be departing early tomorrow.”
Everyone filed out of the dining room, whispering amongst themselves.
“Who d’you reckon Dumbledore’s found to help us?” asked Ron. “At this point, anyone not on our side has already either been swayed to You-Know-Who or has declared themselves neutral.”
“Everyone in the UK and a large portion of Europe,” Hermione corrected. “Even within Europe, those in the South and East have no interest in this war, they’re so far away. Besides, there’s several magical schools and communities in Asia, Africa, North America and South America - I doubt some of them are even aware of what we’re going through here.”
“Maybe Dumbledore has managed to convince some of them to be less ambivalent about the whole situation,” Harry suggested. “Even though it has no impact on them, maybe some of them have decided to help after hearing about the politics of this war or something.”
Ron shrugged. “I s’pose we’ll find out tomorrow, anyway,” he said. “There’s no use speculating like this and losing out on sleep. I guarantee you that Fred and George will wake us up three hours earlier than we need to be just for the sake of it…”
The three split up at that, grimacing in agreement. Hermione left with Ginny to the girls’ room, and Harry and Ron traipsed up the stairs to the boys’.
Harry fell asleep full of hope for the first time in years.