There was never a Chosen One. There was no prophecy. If there was hope for the Order of the Phoenix, for Muggleborns and half bloods across England and Ireland, it was extinguished when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named bestowed a night time visit to his old teacher and old rival, Albus Dumbledore, using the tactics of secrecy and surprise to kill him before Albus could say a word, persuade him otherwise, or even draw his wand.



After that, the Order scattered. After that, the dominoes fell.



In pureblood circles, status as a Death Eater is something that earns someone respect, no longer a taboo. Some prominent members of the Death Eaters consider their marks an “open secret.” The DMLE is ostensibly still determined to track down and eliminate both the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix, with Barty Crouch Sr maintaining that both pose a threat to national safety, but the Order of the Phoenix is more specifically targeted, and case files for suspected Death Eaters often get lost in the shuffle.



There was never a Chosen One. There was no prophecy. So there shouldn’t still be hope. But hope is persistent. The question on everyone’s minds, regardless of blood status, allegiance, or class: what’s next?