Chapter Text
August 1981
Marlene McKinnon gripped her brothers tighter to her chest, hoping to filter out some of the smoke for them. “I don’t want to die,” a muffled shout rose above the roaring of the flames surrounding them.
“It’ll be ok, I’m not leaving you,” Marlene sobbed back. The fiendfire spread so quickly, she knew they had mere minutes left to live. Her parents were already dead, killed in front of them before being trapped inside, and the house was set ablaze. She could imagine the Death Eaters laughing outside the burning home. Nothing quite so funny as burning people alive, apparently.
The air split open suddenly, a cloaked figure appearing before them. The figure quickly threw chains around each of their wrists before Marlene felt the familiar tug of a portkey hook her across space. She hit the ground with a thud, Marlene’s breath leaving her in a rush. Her brother's whimpers intensified as they spread out on the ground near her.
“Well, that was fun!” Marlene looked at the cloaked figure in disbelief. They stood a few feet away with their hands on their hips.
“Coulda’ stuck the landing better.” The figure stalked closer before squatting down near them.
“How’re you feeling?” Silence permeated the clearing. The only sounds were the crickets filtering through the night.
“Well, on that note,” the stranger stood back up, pulling their wand out of their black robes. A Ukrainian Ironbelly formed from the tip. “Take this message to Kingsley Shacklebolt, ‘the McKinnon family can be found on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Come quickly.’” Marlene watched the glowing patronus fly away, the figure once again turning in her direction.
“Are any of you hurt?” Marlene quickly scanned her brothers again before turning back to the stranger, “I don’t think so. Thank you for saving us.” They nodded back, their gold mask flashing in the moonlight with the movement. Cracks filled the air as aurors appeared, led by Shacklebolt.
“That’s my cue!” The stranger gave a quick wave before disappearing. Kingsley reached her a moment later, his strong hands helping her sit up.
“Marlene! What happened? Who was that?” She simply shook her head, “I have no idea.”
Gideon Prewett knew he was going to die. His lungs burned, panting with effort to keep his protego maxima strong while fighting to get closer to Fabian. The two of them winning against five of Voldemort’s strongest Death Eaters was next to impossible. Fabian ducked, an Avada Kedavra shooting over his head to collide with a nearby tree.
“You okay, Fab?”
“Yeah.”
They shared matching smiles before turning as one toward the cloaked and masked figures scattered amongst the trees. One of them reached up to remove his mask, the leering face of Antonin Dolohov appearing from behind it. “I confess that I am disappointed. I expected more from you both. The Dark Lord will be pleased to hear that the Order is weaker than predicted.”
Just then, an almighty crack rang through the air, halting the flying spells from both sides. Gideon stiffened as a new figure materialized in the center of the clearing. A gold mask covered their face, the rest of their body covered in black, the hood of their cloak covering their hair. The figure turned to eye them, nodding once before turning to face the Death Eaters.
“Step aside, this does not concern you.” Dolohov took a step closer to the figure.
“On the contrary,” a distorted voice replied, “This is personal.”
Quicker than Gideon could track, two daggers shot from the gold-masked stranger into the necks of the nearby Death Eaters. Rolling forward, the figure landed on their knees, shooting hexes toward two more. Sharp slices appeared across their skin as they fell to the earth. Uncoiling to their feet, the figure faced Dolohov once more. Without hesitation, both the Death Eater and the Golden Savior entered a fierce duel. Hexes and curses were traded faster than insults. Another dagger shot from the strange figure, embedding itself in Dolohov’s upper leg. Shouting in pain, he fell to one knee, attempting to keep the figure at bay. With a simple expelliarmus, Dolohov’s wand flew into the hand of his opponent. The clearing was silent as Gideon watched the figure close the distance between themselves and the Death Eater. The twins looked on in sick fascination as they yanked the dagger out of Dolohov’s leg, the man groaning in pain. Blood pooled at their feet.
“Goodbye, Antonin.” With those words, the figure quickly slashed the bloody dagger across his throat and let the body fall to the earth. Silence returned to the clearing. Gideon locked eyes with his twin.
Friend or foe? He asked.
I’m so bloody tired is all he got in response.
Suddenly, the golden figure was standing in front of them. He glimpsed brown eyes behind the mask as they said, “Tell Albus that I’ll be contacting the order soon.”
“Who should I tell him you are?”
The figure turned in silence as they collected the daggers from the remaining corpses. “An old friend.”
Another crack sounded as the figure disapparated, leaving the twins with nothing but corpses and blood seeping into the earth.
Albus Dumbledore did not like surprises. He was quite tired of them, in fact. He sat heavily behind his desk, his pensieve floating near him, Gideon Prewett’s memory once again drifting inside of it. The last thing this war needed was another outlying variable. This “Golden Savior” as the twins had referred to, concerned him greatly. “An old friend” was not a comfort. Albus did not trust many, and those he did trust he kept close by. As grateful as he was that the Prewetts and the McKinnons had been saved, he was concerned with the level of violence displayed by this unknown individual. He also had the sense that they knew much more about the Order and their movements than they should. He did not know who this person was or who they could possibly be. He had quite enough to worry about without this problem as well. Fawkes squawked, nudging his shoulder in comfort. Albus stroked the phoenix’s feathers, contemplating the possible ways this golden stranger would contact them. He just prayed that this mysterious person wouldn’t be the death of them all.
September 15, 1981
The Order of the Phoenix was gathering for their usual mid-month meeting, with Dumbledore standing at the head of the table as the other members trickled in. Sirius Black lazily leaned back in his chair, James next to him with Remus seated on his other side. While Sirius wasn’t entirely thrilled that James had decided to leave the safety of his home, he also knew that his best mate was going insane from being stuck in the same place. Lily was understandably upset that it wasn’t her turn to escape.
“Where’s Peter?” Asked Remus. Sirius looked around, realizing that their friend was the only order member missing.
“We will give him a few more minutes to arrive,” Dumbledore stated as the rest of the order took their seats. A few minutes ticked by, quiet conversations filtering through the room. Sirius kept his eyes on the door, waiting for his friend to walk through. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing any of his chosen family. Too many had been lost already. He heard the floo sound from down the hall.
“Sounds like Pete made it.” Remus nodded, relaxing slightly at the news. The door opened slowly. Sirius shot straight to his feet. Instead of Peter, a cloaked figure stood in the doorway with a golden mask fixed upon their face.
“Sorry I’m late,” they drawled, letting the door fall shut behind them. The figure strode confidently to the table, seemingly unworried about the sheer number of wands pointed in their direction. They plopped down into the seat next to Dumbledore, waving lazily toward the Prewett twins. The twins cautiously waved back, shallowly nodding to the Hogwarts headmaster. Marlene sat up straighter in her seat. The Order had been told about the mysterious stranger who had saved the Prewetts and McKinnons. The so-called “Golden Savior” hadn’t been seen since. Sirius studied the figure, noting the tension that was carefully hidden beneath their façade of nonchalance. Besides that tiny detail, the figure gave nothing else away. Dumbledore cleared his throat, motioning for the order to take their seats. Slowly, they sat, remaining on edge in case the figure decided to move.
“Hello, my friend,” Dumbledore said, facing the stranger. “What made you decide to contact us today?”
The room tensed as the stranger reached inside their cloak to pull out a beaded purple bag. Sirius watched with interest as their arm completely disappeared inside of it. An undetectable extension charm? He mused. He heard Remus hum in interest.
“Apologies for the delay in my contacting you, Albus. I had to spend some time tracking down a traitor before I could reveal myself.” With that ominous statement, the figure pulled something out of their bag, depositing it with a thunk in the middle of the table.
James, Sirius, and Remus sat in open-mouthed shock at the cage sitting in front of them, a rat cowering in fear behind the bars.