"Sirius, I am referring to the fact that I just utilized an advanced, molecular-level Extraction Charm—the very spell used to vanish objects—to selectively remove the filth from your aging fabric and surfaces," Anduin insisted, looking exasperated.
"It wasn't a standard, elementary Scourgify. Please, we are wizards. The capability to achieve rapid, thorough cleaning is simply a matter of applying advanced magical theory, not domestic effort."
"You're missing the point!" Sirius exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair and further disarranging it.
"I've seen the most rigorous, obsessive house-elf cleaning in pureblood mansions! They can't get this result in four hours. Even James, with his irritatingly powerful charms, leaves behind a faint oil stain on the carpet. But look at this! The dirt is gone. The oil is gone. The fabric is revitalized! How did you achieve such precise eradication?"
"Because other people's skill is lacking, and their fundamental understanding of the spell's core function is limited," Anduin stated matter-of-factly. "I merely found a unique application for the Vanishing Charm."
Sirius Black, still completely consumed by the surreal experience of his immaculate home, paced like a caged animal. He traversed the length of the living room, into the kitchen, and back, touching the cool, clean surfaces of the cabinets, feeling the texture of the newly restored carpet.
He looked like an adventurer who had returned to find his cave had been forcibly turned into a sterile hospital room.
After silently enduring Sirius's obsessive inspection, Anduin rose from the sofa, stacked the now-clean dinner plates, and moved them to the sink. He emerged a moment later, folding the apron neatly. He looked at Sirius, who finally settled down near the fireplace, still radiating disbelief.
"Sirius," Anduin began, his tone immediately shifting to one of cold seriousness. "There is a matter of considerable urgency I need to discuss with you."
Sirius forced a laugh, turning with a mischievous grin. "What's the grave news? By the way, I have to commend your domestic skills. You're as virtuous as a Muggle housewife—and you cook far better than anyone I know."
Anduin visibly recoiled, throwing him an intense glare. "I am discussing a serious, potentially lethal matter. Kindly refrain from making bizarre and irrelevant social commentaries."
He then added, choosing his words carefully, "I have received information suggesting that the Death Eaters are planning a coordinated attack on members of the Order of the Phoenix during the upcoming Christmas period."
Sirius Black's playful demeanor instantly vanished, replaced by the grim vigilance of a seasoned fighter. He was on his feet in a second. "Are you absolutely certain? How could you, a first-year student tucked away at Hogwarts, possibly acquire intelligence of this magnitude?"
"Then you should be aware that I was Sorted into Slytherin," Anduin said, offering a playful yet pointed smile.
Sirius raised a cynical eyebrow. "So?"
Anduin walked back to the fireplace, sitting on the edge of the clean sofa. He gestured for Sirius to take the armchair opposite, creating a more private, focused setting.
"I heard this directly from a student named Quake Wilkes. He overheard it from an elder in his family, presumably a Death Eater." He paused, letting the name sink in. "Do you recognize the name Wilkes among the Dark Lord's known circle?"
"Wilkes. Yes," Sirius confirmed, his voice low and hard. "The name is familiar. He's one of the inner circle, often seen alongside Snape, Avery, Mulciber, and that Rozier lot—the younger contingent. We've suspected him for months, but the Ministry of Magic is crippled by internal politics. They demand irrefutable evidence for an arrest. Since they all operate under the cover of magical masks and robes during their activities, unless we catch them in flagrante delicto, the evidence is deemed insufficient."
Anduin stared at him, utterly astonished by the incompetence described. "So, you're telling me that even if you have a high degree of confidence regarding the identities of known Death Eaters, you are powerless to act against them—you can't even detain them temporarily under the pretext of 'aiding the investigation,' simply because they might walk into the Ministry tomorrow wearing a pleasant expression?"
Sirius narrowed his eyes, a look of bitter memory crossing his face. "It's the political reality of the Wizarding World, Anduin. Things have slightly improved since Millicent Bagnold took office as Minister. Before her, if someone was accused of merely speaking ill of Muggles or practicing minor dark arts in private, the Ministry required literal, undeniable proof from multiple witnesses. There are a frightening number of witches and wizards within the Ministry and the Wizengamot who secretly sympathize with, or even actively support, the Dark Lord."
He paused, running a hand over his tired face. "Bagnold has taken a much harder line, and Dumbledore consistently uses his influence to pressure the more neutral members of the Wizengamot to support active counter-measures. We have a broader range of action now, certainly, but historically, the Order has been forced into a very passive, defensive role."
"But surely, you can use the threat of investigation or surveillance to neutralize them temporarily?" Anduin pressed, incredulous at the self-imposed restrictions. "You are fighting a war, not arguing a minor probate case."
"It's a war fought under the archaic rules of the establishment," Sirius lamented. "Many Wizengamot members hail from pure-blood families with deep, complex ties to the very Death Eaters we hunt. They fear offending the Dark Lord, and worse, they fear upsetting the delicate social order. Without undeniable proof—a confession, a clear photograph, or an attack caught in the act—we cannot move without causing a massive, paralyzing political backlash."
"Then you must immediately contact the Order of the Phoenix and alert them," Anduin urged, leaning forward with intensity. "This information, whether true or not, provides a vital opportunity. If we cannot solve the external political problem, we must find a solution by focusing on internal preparation and proactive defense."
Sirius stood up again, beginning to pace rapidly in front of the warm fireplace, his initial skepticism battling his ingrained caution. He finally nodded, a flicker of James Potter's energy returning to him. "True. Preparation is never wasted. I need to inform Dumbledore immediately."
He stopped, his brow furrowed with a sudden, serious concern. "But consider this, Anduin. If the Death Eaters launch their attack and are subsequently ambushed or thwarted by a pre-warned Order, they will inevitably investigate the source of the leak. That investigation could lead directly back to Hogwarts, and to you. It would put you in grave danger."
Anduin considered the genuine concern. He knew the intelligence had come from Rozier via the controlled distribution of the truth serum potion—a method so convoluted and specific to his own unique magical style that it was virtually untraceable.
"My method of acquiring this intelligence is classified and highly secured," Anduin assured him confidently.
"It is profoundly unlikely that anyone could ever trace this back to me, even under the most rigorous interrogation. Furthermore, as I have just demonstrated, I am hardly an individual to be 'trifled with.' Or have you forgotten who rescued you from being turned into a glorified garden gnome by those two buffoons on the pitch?"
Sirius Black immediately bridled at the reminder. "I could have easily handled those two fools without your timely, yet arrogant, intervention!" he insisted, though his eyes betrayed his gratitude. "It was sheer luck that you weren't injured by the retaliatory curses!"
He gave up the argument, walking over to the fireplace. He drew his wand and cast a spell on the grate. The flames inside turned bright emerald green, and quickly, the kindly, heavily lined face of Albus Dumbledore materialized in the fire, floating above the embers.
"Sirius? It is highly unusual for you to contact me via Floo Powder at this hour," Dumbledore's voice was calm, yet carried a hint of professional inquiry.
"Headmaster, there's a vital, unconfirmed intelligence report I need to relay," Sirius said, his voice earnest. He then relayed the precise information Anduin had given him, including the source (Wilkes via a family elder) and his own conclusion that, regardless of its truth, it necessitated immediate caution.
Dumbledore listened patiently, his blue eyes twinkling even through the flames. "Yes, this is very important, Sirius. Anduin, you say? I recall Lily and James mentioning the boy. I was not aware he was currently residing under your roof."
Dumbledore's image shifted slightly, turning his gaze toward the off-screen Anduin. "Sirius, I am convening an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix tomorrow afternoon. I need to confirm certain elements of this information directly, and I would appreciate a chance to speak with the boy who provided this unusual intelligence. Could you please bring Anduin with you?"
Anduin, listening to the exchange, felt a cold knot of anticipation tighten in his chest. Dumbledore wanted to see him. This was exactly the kind of interaction he had both dreaded and sought—an entry point into the highest level of the war effort, requiring extreme caution and perfect execution.