"It is best not to allow the specter of suspicion to paralyze our ability to act," Dumbledore continued, his eyes, usually twinkling, now narrowed with intense focus.
"What we must prioritize is the protection of our exposed assets. We cannot afford to be scattered across Britain when the enemy strikes. Emily, you asked about our strategy given the Ministry's inevitable emptiness. We must consolidate."
Emily Vance, standing nearby, nodded curtly. "What's your assessment, Professor Dumbledore? The likely points of attack are too numerous, and deploying patrols across London will dilute our force too thinly."
Dumbledore slowly tapped a long finger on the wooden table. "The advantage lies in creating two high-value, highly defensible concentrations. If the Death Eaters are indeed looking to dismantle the core of our resistance, they will strike where the families gather. We will make their job appear easier by putting all the targets in only two visible locations. This allows us to dedicate a concentrated counter-force."
He looked directly at Gideon Prewett. "Therefore, I will immediately persuade the Longbottoms to spend Christmas with the Potters, creating a single, formidable defensive structure at James's home. I will also contact the McKinnon family—and perhaps a few others—and suggest that spending the holiday together at the Burrow would be advisable."
Gideon Prewett's worry immediately eased, replaced by a gentle smile. "Molly will undoubtedly panic about the logistics, Professor, but her instincts are fiercely maternal. I assure you she will provide them with the warmest of welcomes and the fiercest of defenses."
"Good," Moody chimed in, his excitement growing palpable. "Two major gatherings. That narrows the field and makes the target irresistible. We can set up ambushes beforehand. They will come. And if those scoundrels dare to leave me out of the cold fight, they'll regret it." Moody's magical eye whirred in anticipation, savoring the thought of a planned confrontation.
"Anduin's assessment was crucial," Edgar Bones added, stroking his thick beard. "We will not reveal the reason for this sudden arrangement. We will present it as a natural, large-scale holiday gathering among allies. This creates a perfect trap. Perhaps this concentration will give us the chance to inflict serious harm upon the Death Eaters, and potentially, to expose the internal leakage point."
Seeing that everyone had accepted this logical, high-risk arrangement, Dumbledore nodded, sealing the decision.
"Then it is settled. Alastor and Emmeline, you will be responsible for the security perimeter around the Potter and Longbottom house—the primary, most complex target. Edgar, I leave the protection of the Weasleys and McKinnons to your methodical command. If the Dark Lord himself should choose to appear, I shall personally be ready to intercede."
The remaining members of the Order nodded in grim acceptance, rose to their feet, and quickly departed the safe-house, melting away into the hidden network of allies and protective charms.
Dumbledore remained standing alone in the quiet cellar, his gaze distant, as if viewing a tragedy unfolding in the future. He slowly walked over to the cold hearth, his thoughts turning to the fragment of the prophecy he knew.
"Tom, can you truly bring yourself to harm a child, a newborn?" he whispered to the shadows, his voice strained with sorrow. "To what terrible, unforgivable abyss must your soul have fallen to justify the murder of innocence?"
He was almost certain the Death Eaters would strike, and he had successfully narrowed the field of targets. Yet, the prophecy pointed to two possibilities: the child born at the end of July. Both the Potters and the Longbottoms fit the timeline.
"Which one, Tom? Which newborn is the target? Potter... or Longbottom?" His mind turned to the difficult, compromised pawn he was forced to rely on. "Severus, I hope with every fiber of my being that you will not disappoint me at this critical juncture."
Meanwhile, Sirius Black and Anduin had returned to the surprisingly clean house. Sirius, his hands laced behind his head, was sprawled out on the sofa. Despite the clean environment, he was restless, nervously swinging his legs, still replaying the Order's strategy and the looming threat of the Death Eaters.
Anduin, however, maintained a cold, pragmatic detachment. He had placed his trust in Dumbledore's immense magical power and strategic foresight. In a world defined by chaos, panic was a luxury he couldn't afford. He viewed the holiday preparation as a necessary procedural step—a return to normalcy before the inevitable confrontation.
"Sirius, I require a brief excursion," Anduin announced, pulling his worn coat onto his shoulders.
Sirius shot upright, his posture instantly rigid with neurosis. "Are you serious, Anduin? Absolutely not! What is wrong with you? At a time like this, when we know they're mobilizing, you need to remain within the house's protective boundaries. What if you encounter danger? Are you actively looking for a fight?"
Anduin rolled his eyes dramatically—a gesture he found increasingly necessary around the Gryffindor.
"I am not a member of your secretive resistance, Sirius, and I refuse to be held hostage by your paranoia. I need to purchase Christmas gifts. Furthermore, you are being overly dramatic. If the Death Eaters are truly planning a targeted Christmas attack, the period before Christmas is the safest possible time. They will not risk prematurely revealing their movements."
"A child shouldn't be thinking about gifts right now!" Sirius worried aloud. "Dumbledore might tell us to cancel the entire feast! Don't be troublesome!"
"On the contrary," Anduin retorted, buttoning his coat. "The appearance of normalcy is the highest form of counter-intelligence. If everyone acts like Christmas is canceled, the Death Eaters will know they've been detected. Besides, I am not venturing near Diagon Alley, where wizards congregate. I am going to the Muggle business district for practical shopping. Stop being a nervous wreck."
Seeing the young man's resolute, logical front, Sirius Black finally relented, though not without conditions. "Fine. But I am coming with you. If you drag me out during a security alert, the least I can do is ensure you don't get yourself hexed by a stray Dark wizard. And try to look less like you're leading me to the gallows."
Sirius Black, a wizard utterly out of his element, was forced into the role of reluctant security detail. Anduin's primary reason for choosing the Muggle quarter was simple fiscal conservatism. His Wizarding gold was a finite resource reserved for specific magical purchases, while his Muggle funds, managed with strict efficiency, were plentiful. He needed practical, unique, and inexpensive gifts.
Their first stop, at Anduin's insistence, was London's Chinatown. Anduin needed supplies that were simply unavailable in the magical world, and Sirius looked utterly lost among the bustling crowds and exotic scents.
Anduin's first purchase was for Hagrid. Being an insatiable trencherman, Hagrid's current stock of Chinese spices—which Anduin had gifted him months prior—must have been severely depleted. He secured a large, quality box of spices and, more importantly, a beautiful, heavy copper pot suitable for slow-cooking large stews.
"It would be rude not to provide the means for true comfort during the depths of winter," Anduin thought, pleased with the utilitarian nature of the present.
Next, they navigated a nearby department store. The cultural clash was instant. Sirius kept touching things with suspicion, looking at every Muggle invention as if it were a complex curse.
For Ivian, Anduin chose a collection of classic children's storybooks—innocent, charming, and practical for her impending baby sister. He also selected an elegant, simple music box that played a soft, classic lullaby when opened. It had a small glass slot for a photograph, which he knew Ivian would appreciate.
For Professor McGonagall, who valued House loyalty and discretion, he selected a refined, antique-style brooch cast in the shape of a magnificent, roaring lion.
Professor Flitwick, the Charms Master and duelist, received an elegant mechanical pocket watch—a beautiful piece of Muggle engineering requiring precision and concentration, fitting for a tiny, meticulous man.
Dean Slughorn, the connoisseur of comfort and influence, was easy: a sealed bottle of aged, expensive Scottish whisky. Anduin was well aware that lubricating the Head of Slytherin was simply smart networking.
The gift for Hagrid was finalized with a massive, ornamental bronze cup engraved with various mythical beasts. It was sold as a decorative craft item, but Anduin knew Hagrid would immediately use it for drinking tea or, more likely, something far stronger.
Finally, for Charles and Vivian—the two individuals who had the most difficult time socializing—Anduin bought two new, high-quality mahjong sets, saving them the trouble of continually lending and borrowing the shared, community set he had originally introduced to the Hogwarts common rooms.
Then, there was Sirius. Anduin needed a gift that would calm his volatile nature and provide a distraction from his mounting paranoia. He settled on a magnificent, old-fashioned gramophone—a piece of Muggle nostalgia. He also purchased a stack of classical and jazz records, carefully selected to soothe a troubled temperament.
"You can't be serious! A gramophone?" Sirius exclaimed, aghast at the size of the box and the lack of magical power. "It's enormous! I don't even know how to make it work!"
"It requires a simple hand crank and has no connection to the Floo Network or the Ministry," Anduin pointed out dryly. "It is entirely secure, and you need quiet, non-confrontational background noise for your nerves."
Anduin found Sirius to be surprisingly useful despite his complaints. The wizard, grumbling and visibly irritated, used his immense strength to carry the larger boxes—including the heavy gramophone and the copper pot—out of the crowded mall.
"You truly are insufferable," Sirius grumbled, his arms full of Muggle paraphernalia, which he held with the air of a man carrying infected swamp gas. "I am a fugitive, a war-fighter, forced to carry children's toys and Muggle devices."
For the next few days leading up to the holiday, Anduin remained mostly confined to the suddenly pristine house. Sirius, now completely addicted to the background noise, was either sprawled out on the couch listening to the gramophone or, occasionally, absent on urgent Order business.
This period of quiet offered Anduin the perfect opportunity to address his primary intellectual curiosity: the communication method used in the meeting.
"Sirius," Anduin asked one evening, as the room was filled with the warm sound of a classical orchestra, "about the communication system Dumbledore used to signal you: it wasn't a standard Floo call. The flames didn't engulf the entire fireplace, and the connection was instantaneous and isolated. How does it work?"
Sirius smirked, momentarily pleased to be the expert. "Ah, the Order's private Floo line. It uses the same basic principles as standard Floo Powder—connecting the world's various chimneys through the Floo Network. But our fireplaces have been subjected to a very complex, high-level Fiduciary Charm overlay, restricting the travel function entirely. We can't actually move between them, which prevents infiltration."
He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Think of the main Floo Network as the main road system. Dumbledore has created a series of isolated, dedicated secure telephone lines between only a handful of approved fireplaces. The charm allows the visual and auditory signal to pass—like a closed-circuit television network—but physically blocks the transit of matter, including Floo Powder itself. It ensures that only those connected can communicate, and it isolates our secret locations from the central Floo authority at the Ministry. That level of magical security is why Dumbledore trusts it for the most sensitive communication."
Anduin nodded slowly, his eyes bright with understanding. It was a brilliant, pragmatic application of restricted magical throughput—utilizing the convenience of the existing network while nullifying its inherent security flaws. It was a technical marvel that only Dumbledore would conceive.