Normally, Hermione felt remorse at another year past. Three months of not learning was quite a depressing thought to her. This year, however, she was eager to finish the term, and the entire schooling process (for now, at least); the Order needed her, and she didn’t need exams muddling her thoughts in these times of strategizing and intelligence collecting. Her future after graduation was something that could wait until Voldemort was defeated.
Draco’s initiation into the Order had been set for the twenty-fourth of June. There was a bit of irony to this date, as two years before, Voldemort had came to full power again. Hermione noticed that, and hoped that the coincidence wasn’t a bad omen. After all, Draco needed as much luck as he could get, with half the Order thinking he was a spy for the Death Eaters. She and Harry had been trying to control the gossip and explain the logic of having Draco on their side. Most members scoffed and decided that Hermione was simply deceived by Draco’s devastatingly handsome looks, and that Harry really was addled in the mind, that the gossip was finally right.
The evening of June 24 dawned cool and ominous. Draco had just finished dressing in his ‘frivolous, ridiculous- Granger, are you trying to make me look like a pansy?’ initiation costume, a long white tunic that seemed to glitter from within that had long, sweeping sleeves, along with very loose, fluid pants that grazed simple sandals which wrapped around Draco’s ankles. The outfit could be considered frivolous, especially in times where material to making clothing was hard to come by, but it had important significance to the Order. Though those that wore it knew nothing about it, the cloth was woven with enchantments to protect the wearer from dangerous enchantments by turning into a thick armor, in case of an unexpected raid, and also hexes to poison the skin of enemies that touched the material. This made putting on the costume the first part of the initiation- those with a vendetta against the Order would suffer mild poisoning, although just enough to warn the Order and let them deal with the matter accordingly.
Draco was blindfolded that evening as soon as he finished putting on his robes. He was led blindly through the forests, tripping over roots and cursing with each tumble. After one particularly nasty spill, he spat out, “When are we bloody going to get there? I thought this would be quick!”
“We’re here!” a deep voice suddenly announced. Harry, Draco realized. Slowly, Draco’s blindfold was taken off and he took in his surroundings. He was at the edge of a large, expansive lake. Ten prominent members of the Order were in a circle around him, all wearing snow-white robes. Frowning, Draco realized they were all chanting something, moving their lips faster and faster until the sound turned into a slow buzz. Just as Draco was ready to run away screaming (although he wasn’t scared, he simply needed to… use the loos, of course), a fantastic red phoenix came soaring out of the woods towards the clearing, singing along with the tune of the Order’s chant. Draco stared at it, fascinated, when suddenly, the bird began flying rapidly in Draco’s direction. Eyes widening, Draco ducked, but too late- the bird had flown right into him, bursting into flames. Too shocked at the dramatic death of the phoenix, Draco failed to realize that his robes had suddenly caught fire. Deep crimson, stormy black and fiery orange flames licked at his body, caressing him. Looking down, Draco’s eyes grew wide, and everything grew dark.
“Wake up, Draco! Wake up!” An insistent arm pushed on Draco’s arm, irritating him.
“Bloody hell! Ten more minutes!” He heard someone giggle. Prying open one eye slowly, he saw Granger sitting on the edge of his bed, looking amused.
“Blaise told me you were grumpy in the morning,” she stated, suppressing a grin.
Draco threw off the covers and got up, outraged. “I am not!”
“Grumpy.”
Rolling his eyes, Draco went to his wardrobe and began selecting his outfit for the day. Glancing at Hermione, who was still sitting on his bed, he smiled evilly, noticing her gaze. “Like what you see, Granger?” Although the two were still on first-name basis, he still liked to throw in her surname for good measure.
Hermione tried to suppress the blush creeping along her face. “No! I was just…” Her eyes looked around, searching for something else to look at. “I was simply looking at the elaborate woodwork on your armoire.”
“Right, Hermione. The woodwork.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Enough. I came up here to tell you that you are now officially a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and with that privilege comes your first assignment.”
Draco’s eyes brightened. He had been wondering if he would ever be able to do something. He was sick of just sitting around headquarters all day- although he was fascinated with the apparent tradition of beheading house elves. Shaking his head, he thought of the questions he had been eager to be answered. “How the hell did I survive those flames? Were you trying to kill me?”
Hermione smiled, eager to discuss the initiation. “The fire was the entire initiation. Fawkes- that was Dumbledore’s phoenix, although now Harry owns him- set you on fire in addition to himself. He was regenerating. And we weren’t trying to kill you. Those flames, along with our chanting, tested out the possible outcomes of your loyalty to the Light. Black flames would have meant betrayal; yellow would have meant betrayal under pressure, while orange means intense loyalty, though confusion. Red flames of course mean an intense, unfailing loyalty. You passed.”
Draco remembered his flames were both orange and red, and felt himself swell with pride. Then he realized the presence of the black flames, and felt his heart sink. But still, Hermione had said possible outcomes. It didn’t mean the flames predicted the future. “What color flames did you have?”
Hermione hesitated. “Red and orange. But Draco, the color of your flames is knowledge only for you and people you entirely trust. We couldn’t see what colors your flames were. We only saw Fawkes. Although,” here she smiled, “if your flames had only been black or yellow, you would have been burned. But that’s never happened before,” Hermione added hastily, seeing Draco’s look of horror.
Draco nodded, understanding. He decided to keep that fact that the flames burned black a secret. “So what was that you were telling me about having an assignment?”