star shopping ✰ d.m.

CHAPTER THREE

The next few days reminded Arabella vaguely of the time she and her family and the Wood family had to stay at 12 Grimmauld Place for the summer. The Burrow had been made the new headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, meaning Order members were coming in and out of the home constantly. The Weasley children along with Harry and Hermione were also being made to clean up the house and the property constantly, as Molly was fussing over everything being perfect for the upcoming wedding of Bill and Fleur. They were cleaning and doing other chores so much that they hardly ever got a moment of rest, and when they did, Molly was sure to put them back to work straightaway.

And all the while, they were still trying to process the death of Alastor Moody.

"No news about Mad-Eye?" Harry asked one evening at dinner.

"Nothing," Bill said. "The Daily Prophet hasn't said a word about him dying or about finding the body. But that doesn't mean much. It's keeping a lot quiet these days."

"And they still haven't called a hearing about all the underage magic I used escaping the Death Eaters? Because they know I had no choice or because they don't want me to tell the world Voldemort attacked me?"

"The latter, I think," Arthur said. "Scrimgeour doesn't want to admit that You-Know-Who is as powerful as he is, nor that Azkaban's seen a mass breakout."

"Yeah, why tell the public the truth?"

"It's like we're going back in time," Arabella grumbled, thinking about two years previously when Cornelius Fudge had still been Minister of Magic and was adamantly denying that Voldemort had returned.

"Isn't anyone at the Ministry prepared to stand up to him?" Ron asked.

"Of course, Ron, but people are terrified," Arthur told him, "terrified that they will be next to disappear, their children the next to be attacked! There are nasty rumors going around; I for one don't believe the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts resigned. She hasn't been seen for weeks now. Meanwhile Scrimgeour remains shut up in his office all day: I just hope he's working on a plan."

There was a moment of silence broken by Fleur, changing the subject.

"We must decide how you will be disguised, Harry," she said. "For the wedding. Of course, none of our guests are Death Eaters, but we cannot guarantee that they will not let something slip after they have had champagne."

"Yes, good point," Molly agreed. "Now, Ron, have you cleaned out your room yet?"

"Why?" Ron asked, sounding thoroughly annoyed. "Why does my room have to be cleaned out? Harry and I are fine with it the way it is!"

"We are holding your brother's wedding here in a few days' time, young man-"

"And are they getting married in my bedroom? No! So why in the name of Merlin's saggy left-"

"Don't talk to your mother like that," Arthur interrupted Ron before he could finish his sentence. "And do as you're told."

"I can help, some of it's my mess," Harry offered.

"No, Harry, dear," Molly said, "I'd much rather you help Arthur muck out the chickens, and Hermione, I'd be ever so grateful if you'd change the sheets for Monsieur and Madame Delacour; you know they're arriving at eleven tomorrow morning. Bella, you can help your brother."

"Which one?" Arabella asked casually, not looking up from her plate as she continued to eat.

"The only one you share a room with."

"I don't share a room with any of them at the moment. I'm in Ginny's room, remember?"

"It's still your bedroom, Arabella, meaning that inevitably, a good portion is your mess and you're responsible for cleaning it up."

Arabella dropped her fork on her plate, making a loud clanging noise. "It is not! My mess is in Ginny's room now. Whatever mess that's in there that isn't Ron's is Harry's, and he just said he would clean it!"

"And I just told Harry to help your father with the chickens. The poor boy can't do two things at once."

"Well, the 'poor boy' can always clean up his mess after he helps Dad with the chickens."

"Arabella-"

"I just don't see why I have to help Ronald clean up a bedroom I'm not even staying in."

"Because I told you to. End of discussion."

Arabella fell silent, glowering at her mother before doing the same to Ron.

"Don't look at me like that, it's not my fault," Ron said.

"How is it not your fault?" Arabella retorted. "If you hadn't made the room a mess, I wouldn't have to help you clean it."

"I didn't do it myself! Harry helped!"

"Ron, if it really means that much to you, I'll help clean after I get back in from the chickens," Harry said.

"No, dear, you focus on the chickens," Molly said in a kind tone before looking sternly at the twins. "And if you two don't stop arguing at the table, I will excuse you now and make you start early."

The twins fell silent once more, glaring at each other for the rest of dinner. Afterwards, they stomped up the stairs to their bedroom in angry silence, but instead of cleaning it like they were told, they began to argue again until Hermione entered the room just a minute later.

"What are you doing here?" they asked her in unison.

"I've already changed the sheets," she told them. "Your mum must have forgot. I figured I'd come up here and maybe help you two with the cleaning, but since you're clearly not doing it, I'll just continue with the packing."

As she made her way to a corner containing a pile of books, the twins just looked at each other, shrugged, and said, "Okay," before collapsing onto their respective beds.

As Ron lounged around, Arabella watched Hermione as she sorted the books into two piles and frowned.

"You guys are really leaving, huh?" she asked in a solemn tone.

The two looked over at her, her sober expression making them frown as well.

"Yeah, we are," Ron answered in a much softer voice than he had taken with her all evening.

"You're at least staying for the wedding, right?"

"Of course we are," Hermione said, and added in an attempt to lighten the mood: "We're not doing all these chores for nothing."

Arabella gave her best friend a small smile before looking away. She considered asking what they were going to be doing, but knew that it was no good; if she was permitted to know, one of the trio would have told her by now. But she knew enough about the three of them to know that it was going to be far from a relaxing holiday, and quite frankly, she was worried for them.

[word count: 1101]
[written: 10/29/20]
[published: 10/29/20]