The Burrow was alight with warmth and laughter, the smell of Molly’s famous cooking filling the air as Christmas break settled in. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins were gathered near the fireplace, chatting over cups of hot cocoa. The usual cheer of the season lingered—until a knock at the door sent a ripple of unease through the adults in the room.

Arthur stood immediately, but Moody waved a gnarled hand. “I’ll get it.”

The younger ones exchanged glances. Moody never offered to get the door unless it was serious. Sirius, lounging in an armchair, straightened, an anticipatory smirk pulling at his lips. Remus sighed, already bracing himself. Tonks muttered something under her breath, running a hand through her already messy hair.

Then the door opened.

The figure that stepped inside was wrapped in a heavy cloak, but even without it, the presence was unmistakable. The air felt heavier. The warmth of the Burrow, usually so inviting, seemed to dim. The younger group fell silent, eyes darting between the adults, who seemed far more tense than before.

Molly, ever the hostess, was the first to recover. “You made it,” she said, voice perfectly polite but with an edge of careful.

They shrugged off the cloak, revealing a form that exuded nothing but raw, restrained power. Their gaze swept over the room, assessing, calculating.

Fred and George, usually quick with a joke, exchanged a look. Ginny, who never backed down from anything, shifted uneasily.

“Who—?” Harry began, only to be cut off by Kingsley.

“Someone you don’t want as an enemy.”

That didn’t exactly help.

Bill, leaning against the wall, gave a wry chuckle. “More like someone no one wants as an enemy.”

Sirius grinned, wolfish and entertained. “Oh, come on, don’t frighten the kids.” He turned to the newcomers, eyes glinting with something between admiration and amusement. “They should be honored.”

Ron blinked. “Honored?”

“You’re looking at one of the deadliest people the Order has,” Charlie added. “Not the nicest, but certainly effective.”