"Oh, Merlin's beard!" Galatea Merrythought seemed genuinely startled. "Not a single Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has lasted more than a year… What a dreadful curse…"
The old woman clutched at her chest as she spoke.
"I'd heard rumors like that before… I always assumed they were just gossip. I never imagined they were true… How on earth did that boy manage it… Tom Riddle…"
"Riddle was only his former name," Jon replied calmly. "In fact, he despised that name because it came from his father. So after graduating, he rearranged the letters of 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' and turned it into a new name—Voldemort."
Hearing the name spoken aloud, the old woman actually seemed to calm down somewhat.
"So he really was Tom… No wonder…" she murmured to herself. "It seems I've been retired far too long… cut off from the world for too many years…"
Professor Merrythought fell silent for a moment, thinking.
"…I've heard he's already fled and is no longer in Britain. Is that correct?" she asked slowly. "So you want my help lifting this curse?"
"Yes," Jon Hart said openly. "Over the years, this curse has caused Hogwarts far too much trouble."
"To be honest, that might be rather difficult." The old woman looked a little troubled. "When it comes to dark magic, Albus was clearly more capable than I am. Yet after all these years, he seemed unable to do anything about this curse… So I can't promise I'll achieve much either."
"In theory, that's true," Jon said. "But the one who cast the curse—Voldemort—is currently in an unprecedented state of weakness. Personally, I think this might be our best chance."
"Is that so…" Professor Merrythought nodded thoughtfully. "Then I'll do my best to find a solution."
"Thank you very much, Professor Merrythought," Jon said quickly.
"Just doing my duty." The old woman gave him a sly smile, carefully studying him from head to toe before speaking slowly.
"As for you, Headmaster Hart… at your age, inheriting the legacy left behind by Albus Dumbledore is no small challenge."
"I'm well aware of that," Jon replied calmly with a nod. "That's why I'll do everything I can."
"Good luck, Headmaster Hart."
"And I hope you enjoy your time at Hogwarts, Professor Merrythought."
...
Amid fields and clusters of trees, a small house could be seen in the distance.
It had once seemed to be a stone-built tower of sorts, but later additional rooms had been added on top, stacking it several stories high. The construction was crooked and uneven, as though someone had forced it together with magic.
Four or five chimneys rose from the red roof, and a sign leaned crookedly in front of the house. On it were two words:
"The Burrow."
Jon Hart, who had arrived in Devon's village of Ottery St. Catchpole by Apparating with Fawkes, stopped and carefully examined the small house.
A pair of tall leather boots lay discarded beside the door, along with a rusty cauldron. Several plump brown chickens were pecking around in the yard.
He was in the right place.
After confirming his destination, Jon crossed the field, walked up to the house, and knocked gently on the door.
After meeting with Professor Galatea Merrythought and arranging her accommodations—her old office was now occupied by Slughorn—Jon had come here without delay.
He hadn't forgotten the agreement made earlier that morning between the Aurors and Kingsley Shacklebolt. He had come to meet formally with the core members of the Order of the Phoenix.
"Who is it?" came the voice of Molly Weasley from inside.
Ever since Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had been attacked by "Grindelwald's followers" a few months ago, the Burrow had become the Order of the Phoenix's temporary headquarters. All meetings, large and small, were now held here.
Though somewhat crowded, it was indeed a very safe place.
"It's me, Mrs. Weasley," Jon said gently. "Jon Hart."
It took nearly half a minute before Mrs. Weasley realized who the voice belonged to.
"Hart—Headmaster! Please come in!" she said hurriedly, a little flustered. "They're all here already—Alastor and Remus—they're waiting for you."
"There's no need to be so formal, Mrs. Weasley. You can just call me Jon," he said with an easy smile as he stepped into the slightly cramped living room.
...
From the outside, the Burrow looked rather cramped.
Inside, however, it was surprisingly spacious.
The core members of the Order of the Phoenix were seated along both sides of a long table. As soon as Jon Hart entered, nearly every pair of eyes in the room turned toward him.
Alastor Moody's enormous magical eye rolled wildly over Jon's body. Kingsley Shacklebolt kept his head lowered, deep in thought. Sirius Black, meanwhile, watched Jon with obvious suspicion.
Most of the Order's members were present—aside from the professors still at Hogwarts—including the notorious Mundungus Fletcher, as well as the young Harry Potter, who had joined the Order only a few months earlier.
"Good afternoon," Jon said casually, glancing around at the serious-faced witches and wizards.
"Good afternoon…" came the scattered replies. No one seemed particularly energetic.
"Any news lately?" Jon asked.
"We do have news about Voldemort," Remus Lupin said first. He was one of the few members of the Order who got along reasonably well with Jon. "Someone spotted him in Albania…"
Jon listened patiently as Lupin explained the situation. Afterward, he said thoughtfully:
"There's no doubt we won't be able to capture Voldemort in the Black Forest of Albania. But as long as he's still alive, he'll return to Britain eventually. All we need to do is wait."
"Any other news?" Jon asked.
Arthur Weasley and Sirius Black exchanged a glance.
In the end, Sirius spoke quietly.
"There is one matter we're all very concerned about… Mr. Hart."
"From this point on—what direction should the Order of the Phoenix take?"