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CHAPTER ONE CHANGING PLACES
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NUMBER TWELVE GRIMMAULD PLACE LOOMED over Florence overwhelmingly. At once, she had been thrust back into the Wizarding World and was to be immediately initiated into a group of people. Everything was unfamiliar; she had spent more of her life alone in a cell than she had with other people and over nine years the world had changed. She was cold — not physically, frankly, anywhere was warmer than the way ice had kissed her skin in Azkaban — but emotionally, she was stone cold. Developmentally, there had been a lot of flaws in Florence's life; she had no recollection of her mother, prior to his disappearance when she was eighteen months old her father had scarcely held her and the four and a half year stint with rotating foster families had left her with little to no experience of how to appropriately receive and give affection on any form of level. As horrible as it sounded, the most stable figures in her life had been the dementors but, now they were gone as well.
Side-along apparition was not as jolting as elder wizards made it out to be; Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her unyielding facial expression, commenting that, "Most throw up on their first one," but, most wizards or witches did not serve as a cage for the potential downfall of the world. Granted, her internal monologue tended to favour dramatic tendencies but, it was only right for her to occasionally indulge herself for entertainment purposes. Florence did not respond, eyes fixed upon the front door that had materialised after Dumbledore had pulled out a scrap of parchment and murmured a short phrase under his breath. He stepped into the house, holding the door open for Florence to step inside before tapping his wand on it, ensuring all of the locks were secure.
Raised voices echoed down the corridor; there was obviously enough tension for the noise to not be absorbed by the closed door that now faced them. The Headmaster gestured for her to follow, the door swinging open just before they reached it. A stout woman with bright orange hair smiled up at him affectionately, ushering him into the room eagerly as she cast her eyes around as though searching for potential eavesdroppers. She blinked when her gaze fell on Florence, lips parting with an unspoken question as the young girl stepped past her into the meeting, always remaining a step behind Dumbledore.
"My apologies for being late." The grey haired man captured the attention of the room instantly, any argument that had been taken place immediately faded into the back of the people's minds as they listened to him. "I had to collect something before our meeting." Florence's jaw ticked slightly at being referred to as 'something' but, she maintained the perfectly schooled stony expression on her face. "The Order reunited after Lord Voldemort's return in the goal of creating a force strong enough to stop his own," he paused, allowing the members to nod and murmur in agreement before he continued, "The quantity of Voldemort's weapons are a mystery to us so, I have resorted to desperate measures."
