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Harry learned, very early on, not to question things. “Don't ask questions,” his Uncle Vernon had told him. Don't ask questions, don't wonder, don't search for an answer. You won't get one.
Upon entering the Wizarding World, though, he had learned to ask questions again. Why did the type of metal used in a cauldron affect the potion? Why can't you stir a potion the counter-clockwise instead of clockwise? What happens to an animate object when Transfigured into an inanimate one? Why do wizards wear robes in public when Muggle clothing is a lot less obstructing and more practical?
Why, why, why?
So of course, it was surprising to be denied information about the Order of the Phoenix. Not that it had been the first time important details regarding Voldemort, and sometimes himself too, had been withheld from him, but was he not the person who deserved to know the most about the upcoming war?
The twins had tried many different ways to listen in on the conversations inside the room where the meetings were held, but all of their attempts, no matter how simple or complex, failed. Eventually Ron and Hermione gave up, but Harry and the twins did not. Harry felt that he had a reasonable excuse, and the twins just didn't like leaving their curiosity unsatisfied.
It wasn't rare to see new people appear at the meetings. Old Order members Dumbledore had just gotten a response from, new members trying their trust in Dumbledore, and quasi-allies being paid to give information. People were just there for one reason or another.
The one person who Harry had no idea why they were there, was a young green eyed man with surprisingly thick eyebrows.
None of the Order members (at least, before they all huddled in the meeting room), seemed to know the man personally. Even with Dumbledore (on that one very rare occasion where Harry caught the two men conversing following a meeting), the professor acted, dare he say it, humble around the stranger. It seemed as though the man was of a great importance, even though Harry thought the stranger a bit too young for any of the possible authority positions that came to mind.
“He's just some bloke Dumbledore's really fond of,” Sirius had said when asked about it. “You should stop eavesdropping on our meetings, it's not your concern.”
Harry had argued that, yes, it was kind of his concern, given that the war up until that point was revolving around him. Sirius gave him a look that Harry interpreted as awfully condescending, and told him to stop worrying and be a teenager and rebel over trivial things like not being allowed to go out after sunset. Which, Harry had noted, was a terrible example because he wasn't allowed to go out, period.
“I think you're getting a bit obsessed with this guy,” Ron commented after he found Harry lurking on the staircase near the meeting room, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak. “Also, you know Moody can see you, right?”
Harry scoffed and gave up for the day, tearing the cloak off himself and storming (quietly) up the stairs back to his shared bedroom with Ron.
“He's just, giving me this weird feeling.” Harry admitted as they walked into the empty room. He sat down on his bed and folded the Invisibility Cloak neatly. “I feel like I should know him, or remember him from somewhere. You know what I mean?”
Ron gave him a blank look. “Uh, not really.”
Harry shook his head. “You're right, I'm probably just paranoid.”
Ron chuckled good naturedly, patting him on the shoulder. “Well, no one's gonna blame you for it.”
The man's name, Harry eventually learned from Sirius, was Arthur Kirkland. He'd finally gotten the courage to stop the man before he left following an Order meeting, even though he, logically, had no reason to approach a complete stranger who had nothing to do with him.
“Oh- Hello,” the man pocketed a device Harry recognised as a small mobile phone. How it was working in a mostly magical environment, Harry had no idea. The size of the electronic also surprised him, as he had found Dudley's mobile large and clunky, though the device was still quite expensive and apparently very high-tech. The man must have been quite influential in the Muggle world too, or at least had a lot of money to afford such a phone.
“You're Arthur Kirkland,” Harry blurted out, suddenly forgetting what to say. He didn't have anything to say to the mysterious man, and he couldn't just admit that he had a few questions about the stranger.
Kirkland raised a large eyebrow, and nodded, his face void of emotion. Harry felt uncomfortable under the man's stare, and thought in retrospect that he shouldn't have bothered him. “You're Harry Potter,” he replied, and Harry resisted the urge to frown at Kirkland's eyes darted up to his forehead, where the lightning bolt scar was partially hidden under his fringe of hair. He froze as the man looked straight into his eyes, green locking with green.
A moment of silence passed as Harry found himself unable to look away from Kirkland's eyes. They were, for lack of a better word, strange. They seemed as though they didn't quite fit the rest of young body, as if they'd seen too much in such a short span of time.
The moment of confusion and awe was broken as Kirkland smiled slightly, a small and polite smile. Harry blinked in surprise, and instinctively smiled in return.
“Thank you,” Kirkland said. Harry tilted his head in confusion.
“For what?” He asked, his voice sounding far away.
“For everything.” Kirkland's smile grew wider and more genuine. The device in his pocket rang out loudly, and Kirkland's smile quickly faded, a flash of irritation appearing on his face, before he calmed into a neutral expression once more. He dug into his pockets, pulling out the beeping phone and hitting a button to answer the call.
“What is it now, frog? I-” Kirkland pulled the phone away from his ear as a burst of noise erupted from the device. Harry heard the sounds of someone tearfully yelling and shouting in a language he assumed was French. Kirkland looked annoyed, and quickly shouted into the receiver for the person on the other end to shut up. Harry flinched at the loud sound and felt that he should leave. However, it seemed somewhat rude to just go without saying goodbye, and he wanted to ask Kirkland to expand on what he was thankful to him for.
“Why is this my problem?” Kirkland asked, his accent Harry felt compared to the ones heard on the news when politicians or celebrities were interviewed. It was very formal sounding, though the arguing dimmed the politeness somewhat. “And so what if he is? It was a miracle in itself that he still kept your ridiculous- I don't feel that it is my concern whether or not he's- Would you shut up and let me speak?!”
Harry caught Kirkland's eye again. The Boy Who Lived smiled meekly and quickly slipped away.
He was not much closer to figuring out who Kirkland was and why he felt such an interest to the man, but he did reaffirm his belief that the man was rather strange.
“What your boss said has nothing to do with- He still shares my monarchy, you-”
Yes, Harry thought as he closed the door behind him, Arthur Kirkland was very strange.