𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 → 𝒸. 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓁𝑒𝓎

⤷ 16| ST MUNGO'S HOSPITAL FOR MAGICAL MALADIES AND INJURIES

Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still ashen-faced and silent.

Ginny said, "Somebody else could have told us . . . we could have heard it somewhere other than Harry."

"Like who?" Sirius said impatiently. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's —"

"We don't care about the dumb Order!" Fred shouted.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" George yelled.

"Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" Sirius said, equally angry. "This is how it is — this is why you're not in the Order — you don't understand — these are things worth dying for!"

"Sirius," June said warningly, placing a hand on his arm. "Why don't we all have a hot chocolate and wait for news from Molly? There's nothing we can do in St Mungo's even if we went there. Let the healers take care of him without us getting in their way."

This seemed to ease everyone a bit and Kreacher appeared with seven hot chocolates. They settled themselves around the kitchen table and silently drank their hot chocolate. June glanced around the table. Harry was gazing into his mug and didn't meet anyone's eye. She was about to ask him if he was all right, when a burst of fire in midair illuminated the table in front of them. As they gave cries of shock, a scroll parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.

"Fawkes!" Sirius said at once, snatching up the parchment. "That's not Dumbledore's writing — it must be a message from your mother — here —"

He trust the letter into George's hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: "Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I well send news as soon as I can. Mum."

George looked around the table.

"Still alive . . ." he said slowly. "But that makes it sound . . ."

He did not need to finish his sentence. It sounded to June, too, as though Arthur was hovering somewhere between life and death. Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother's letter as though it might speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry.

If Juniper had ever sat through a longer night than this one, she could not remember it. Sirius suggested once, without any real conviction, that they all go to bed, but the Weasleys' looks of disgust were answer enough. They mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, occasionally raising a mug to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure each other that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway, for Molly must long since have arrived at St Mungo's.

Fred fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways on to his shoulder. Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; June could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Harry, Sirius and June looked at each other every so often, intruders upon the family grief, waiting . . . waiting . . .

At ten past five in the morning by Ron's watch, the door swung open and Molly entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron and Harry half rising from their chairs, she gave a wan smile.

"He's going to be all right," she said, her voice weak with tiredness. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill and Charlie are sitting with him now; they're going to take the morning off work."