***
GRACE AND HARRY ARRIVED early in the Room of Requirement for the last D.A. meeting before the holidays and was very glad they had, because when the lamps burst into light Grace saw that Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. She could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing the legend HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!
"Wow." said Grace chuckling. "We should keep them, Harry, shouldn't we? And wish everyone a 'Harry Christmas'."
Harry glared at her playfully, before they both started removing them. Grace had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open and Luna Lovegood entered, looking dreamy as always.
"Hello," she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. "These are nice, did you put them up?"
"No," said Harry, "it was Dobby the house-elf."
"Mistletoe," said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it.
"Good thinking," said Luna very seriously. "It's often infested with nargles."
Grace was saved the necessity of asking what nargles were by the arrival of Angelina, Katie, and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold.
"Well," said Angelina dully, pulling off her cloak and throwing it into a corner, "we've replaced you two."
"Replaced me?" said Grace together blankly.
"You, Harry, Fred and George," she said impatiently. "We've got another Seeker!"
"Who?" said Harry quickly.
"Ginny Weasley," said Katie.
Harry gaped at her. Grace already knew that, she was the one who suggested to Ginny to try out.
"Yeah, I know," said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm. "But she's pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course," she said, throwing him a very dirty look, "but as we can't have you . . ."
"And who've replaced me?" Grace asked, trying to keep her voice even.
"Alicia," said Angelina nodding toward her. "She agreed to join the team back,"
"But I'll be on the team only till you've got the ban." Alicia added seeing the sad look on Grace's face. "This is my last year, anyway."
"But I've got a lifetime ban, remember?" said Grace miserably.
"You've got a ban only until Umbridge is here." corrected Alicia.
"And what about the Beaters?" Harry asked.
"Andrew Kirke," said Alicia without enthusiasm, "and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared with the rest of the idiots who turned up . . ."
The arrival of Ron, Hermione, and Neville brought this depressing discussion to an end and within five minutes, the room was full enough to prevent her seeing Angelina's burning, reproachful looks.
"Okay," Harry said, calling them all to order. "I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting anything new right before a three-week break —"
"We're not doing anything new?" said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come. . . ."
"We're all really sorry Harry didn't tell you, then," said Fred loudly.
Several people sniggered.
"We can practice in pairs," said Harry. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, just for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."
They all divided up obediently; Grace partnered Neville as usual. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of "Impedimenta!" People froze for a minute or so, during which their partners would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx.
Neville had improved beyond all recognition. After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, they laid out cushions all over the floor and started practicing Stunning again. Space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once; half the group observed the others for a while, then swapped over.
At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt.
"You're getting really good," he said, beaming around at them. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff — maybe even Patronuses."
There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wishing each other Happy Christmas as they went.
"Harry Christmas, Grace." said Terry Boots, stopping in front of her.
"Harry Christmas to you too, Terry." said Grace smiling.
"See you after break." He said looking a little red in the face.
Grace waved at him as he went away. Feeling cheerful, she collected up the cushions with Ron and Hermione and stacked them neatly away. Ron and Hermione left before Harry and Grace did.
Grace yawned loudly as she made her way toward Harry, who was straightening a cushion.
"Let's go, shall we?" she said to Harry.
"You go ahead," said Harry. "You need sleep."
"We can go together — "
"It's alright," said Harry glancing at the other end of the room. "You go, I'll come."
Confused, Grace looked at where he was staring and found Cho. It was like someone dropped a stone in her stomach. Blinking away from her, she turned to Harry.
"Oh — right." said Grace stepping away from him. "I — I'll go."
Harry didn't even look at her as she turned around and left the room. She didn't even realise when she reached the common room until the fat lady asked her the password. Feeling very low, she climbed inside and walked toward the fireplace and slumped down on the chair beside Hermione. Ron was lying on the hearthrug, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework.
"Are you okay?" said Hermione looking up from her long letter. "You — er —don't look good."
Grace dropped her head on her shoulder as she stared at the fire crackling in the fireplace.
"Hermione," her voice was barely above whisper. "I'm sad. I don't know what to do."
"Why're you sad?" said Ron looking up at Grace immediately.
"Go back to your homework, Ron." said Hermione dismally. "It's girl's thing."
Ron, shrugged and went back to his homework.
"What happened, Grace?" Hermione said quietly.
"What happened, is that I'm an idiot." Grace muttered. "A very big idiot."
"No, you're not!" said Hermione fiercely. "But will you tell me —"
"Don't ask, please." said Grace closing her eyes. "I don't want to think about it."
It looked Hermione wanted to say something, but held herself back and nodded reluctantly. Grace just lay there, her head on Hermione's shoulder, her eyes closed as she tried to get Harry out of her mind.
It must have been almost half-an-hour, when the Gryffindor common room opened again, and Harry walked again, looking in shock.
"What kept you?" Ron asked, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Grace's.
She avoided looking at him. He looked like he was in a state of shock.
"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked.
Harry gave a halfhearted shrug.
"What's up?" said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. "What's happened?"
"Is it Cho?" Hermione asked in a businesslike way. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"
Grace felt herself stiffen. Harry nodded. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye.
"So — er — what did she want?" Ron asked in a mock casual voice.
"She —" Harry began, rather hoarsely; he cleared his throat and tried again. "She — er —"
"Did you kiss?" asked Hermione briskly.
Ron sat up so fast that he sent his ink bottle flying all over the rug. Disregarding this completely he stared avidly at Harry.
"Well?" he demanded.
Harry looked from Ron's expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity, to Grace who avoided his eyes and to Hermione's slight frown, and nodded.
"HA!"
Grace felt her inside shrivel up. Before she knew what she was doing, she stood up suddenly making the other three look at her.
"I — er — have to — er —go somewhere. . ." Her voice cracked as she spoke.
Before anyone could say anything, she walked out of the common room into the dark corridors and ran in a random direction. She just wanted to get away, far away from Harry or Cho. Maybe off to Astronomy Tower. She didn't know. She was heartbroken and miserable.
After what seemed like an eternity, Grace found a suitable decently hidden place behind the pillar near the window. She sat in her spot as silent tears ran down her face. Hermione had told her that Harry liked her, and Grace couldn't bare to think that she was so stupid to buy into it. She knew it wasn't true, but she still had hoped. Grace never showed her weak side, she always pretended to be strong. And she definitely wasn't as pretty or gentle as Cho.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't my — are you crying?"
Grace wiped her eyes quickly and looked from her spot against the window. Draco Malfoy was standing near her, looking shocked and, surprisingly, worried.
"no." said Grace defiantly.
"You're crying." He repeated again, as if stating a well-known fact.
"If you're here to taunt me or anything, then please go away." said Grace dryly. "I'm in no mood to argue."
Draco blinked before rolling his eyes.
"No — I want to know why're you crying." He said so conversationally that Grace blinked in surprise before recovering.
"Why do you care?" she sneered up at him.
"Was it Potter?"
Imager of Harry kissing Cho conjured up again in her mind. She quickly wiped her eyes to prevent the newfound tears from rolling down her already stained cheeks.
"Why would you think it was him?" said Grace staring outside at the sky.
"Well, seeing that you harbor a crush on him, only he seems to be capable of this condition of yours."
Grace didn't even had in herself to be surprised that he knew about her crush.
"I don't know how this concerns you."
Draco scoffed and sat down.
"If you forgot Grace, we're related." said Draco. "And I happen to be your cousin."
"What're you doing?" said Grace leaning away from him.
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"Forget I asked."
They were quiet for awhile. Grace had no desire to continue cry in front of Draco, but she still could feel tears rolling down her eyes occasionally which she kept wiping away.
"So, he's really done it." said Draco quietly. "he's gone and broke your heart."
"I wouldn't go that far." said Grace. "he's allowed to snog whoever he wants"
"I told you, you should've have mixed with such —"
"If you're to give me your same old lecture on how I should have chosen your side, then please don't."
"I don't even know why you like him." said Draco.
"I'm sorry," said Grace narrowing her eyes at him. "But I don't think I agreed to discuss my love life with you, who happen to be my enemy."
"I wouldn't go that far," Draco repeated her line. "You're not my enemy, Grace. It's Potter and Weasley."
She chose to ignore that sentence.
"Why you're here?" Grace asked him.
"I just want to make sure you're okay." He said and Grace again blinked in surprise. "And seeing that Potter just broke your heart, someone had to worry about your well being."
Grace just stared at him. She couldn't believe that her enemy was sitting here, trying to comfort her.
"You don't have to do that." said Grace turning away from him. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, I can see that." He said sarcastically.
They were quiet again.
"You're right." began Grace, her eyes trailing toward far off in the sky. "I'm not fine. It — It's just so dumb, you know? I knew he didn't like me, but I was still hoping, even though I knew in the end only I was going to get heartbroken. And now — I feel so miserable and sad. I know it's silly."
For a moment he didn't said anything.
"Merlin, what is wrong with you?" said Draco exasperatedly.
"Everything."
"Since when did you let some pathetic guy make you sad?" He continued. "You're a Black, for merlin's sake. And I know you. You've always been strong and you never cry because of anyone. And now because Potter kissed some girl you're crying. Who's this girl anyway?"
"Cho Chang," said Grace. "She's in Ravenclaw, a year above us."
"Why're you letting this Chang girl affect you? I've never seen you this upset. If you, the girl who beat anyone down because they annoys her, are crying openly about something, especially in front of me, it's not 'silly'."
"I'm not going to say you're right." sniffed Grace. "because it'd only inflate your already impossibly massive ego."
"I'd appreciate that." said Draco dryly. "but I'm serious when I say I don't want you to cry because of some pathetic girl who kissed your boyfriend —"
" — he's not my — "
" — and don't forget you're a Black. If you want something, you take it."
Grace stared at him, her mouth slightly open.
"Wow." said Grace. "I never thought a day would come when Draco Malfoy would be giving me relationship advice. The sky must be falling."
Draco rolled his eyes.
"I suppose I should go face the inevitable." said Grace, sighing as she stood up. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but thank you, I'd give you a hug, but —"
"too far."
"I know, so I'm settling for a thank you." said Grace before pausing. "In all this I almost forgot I hate you."
"I said before, I don't hate you." said Draco. "I hate your friends. You just happen to be with them."
"I got a lifelong ban from Quidditch because of you." said Grace flatly.
"Well, I didn't tell you to punch me, did I?" He said raising his eyebrows.
Grace scoffed.
"If Umbridge sees you, tell her I already gave you a detention to get her off your back." said Draco reluctantly.
"that's the nicest thing you've ever —"
"And five points from Gryffindor for roaming in the corridors."
"There it is," said Grace with a tear-stained smile.
She turned around, but stopped on a second though and faced him again.
"Now what is it —"
A loud smack sound echoed through the hallway as Grace's fist contacted with Draco's nose. He looked at her horrified, holding his bloody nose in his hands.
"That was for going on my mother and father." she said.
"How dare you — "
"I don't think I broke your nose," she said examining his nose closely, which was covered in blood. "But still," she pointed her wand at him, "episkey!"
The blood stopped immediately as Draco groaned in pain.
"And thank you for today." said Grace before he could open his mouth. "I'm touched by your care towards me."
She patted him on arm and turned around to leave.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor!" Draco shouted angrily.
She waved at him with a cheery smile and turned around the corridor. She returned to the common room a quarter of an hour later because she'd been walking slowly in order to delay seeing Harry. She found Harry, Ron and Hermione in their best seats by the fire; nearly everyone had gone off to bed. Their heads immediately whipped in her direction.
"What's happened to you?" said Ron.
"You okay?" said Hermione standing up at once.
"I'm fine." said Grace through a forced smile.
She could tell Hermione could see her tear-stained cheek and eyes and could figure out what had happened.
"Look, I'm really tired. I'll be off to bed now."
Grace particularly avoided looking at Harry as she climbed the stair and entered her girls dormitory. Changing into her night clothes she moved on her bed.
The door opened and Hermione walked in, before making her way toward her bed and faced Grace.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione said softly.
"What's there to talk about?" said Grace miserably. "Harry like Cho, Cho like Harry, they kissed, and I got heartbroken."
"Well, if this cheers you up, Harry didn't enjoy kissing Cho." said Hermione.
"Why? Is she that bad at kissing?" said Grace frowning.
"No, she was crying."
"Who cries while kissing? Poor Harry, his first kiss got ruined. Not that I'm complaining."
Hermione of silent for a moment.
"Grace," said Hermione after a moment. "I think you should consider dating someone."
"I said I'll think about it." said Grace and turned her back to Hermione. She didn't want to talk any longer.
Sleep came faster to her and in minute she was asleep. Her dreams were normal, like everyone else.
And then the screaming started. Someone was screaming.
Grace woke up with a jerk, and realised that the scream wasn't from her dream. Someone was screaming. And it was Harry. Terrified, Grace scrambled from her bed and rushed toward the Harr's dorm where she was Harry screaming and thrashing in his bed. All his dormmates were awake and were trying to wake him up.
Pushing Dean away from her path, Grace made her way on Harry's bed and started shaking him. Every inch of his body was covered in icy sweat; his bedcovers were twisted all around him like a straitjacket.
"Harry! Harry, wake up!"
When he didn't, Grace started tapping him on the face and shaking him wildly.
"Harry! HARRY!"
He opened his eyes, and stared dazing at the figures around his bed as he clutched his head in his palm.
"Harry!"
Grace stared at him, terrified and shaken herself. He rolled right over and vomited over the edge of the mattress.
"He's really ill," said Neville in a scared voice. "Should we call someone?"
"Harry! Harry!"
Grace helped his sit up on his bed. His wide eyes turned to look at Grace and Ron.
"Your dad," he panted, his chest heaving. "Your dad's . . . been attacked. . . ."
"Siri — "
Harry shook his head, and Grace cut off midway as realisation hit her.
"What?" said Ron uncomprehendingly.
"Your dad! He's been bitten, it's serious, there was blood everywhere. . . ."
Grace stared at Harry, scared, before turning toward Neville who looked as white as her.
"Call Professor McGonagall," Grace said. "Right now."
He turned to look at Grace, before nodding and running off.
"Harry, mate," said Ron uncertainly, "you . . . you were just dreaming. . . ."
"No!" said Harry furiously; it was crucial that Ron understand. "It wasn't a dream . . . not an ordinary dream. . . . I was there, I saw it. . . I did it. . . ."
She wasn't sure what to make of it. Harry was shivering and sweating all over. He retched again and Ron leapt backward out of the way.
"Harry — deep breaths." said Grace rubbing his back. "You're not well."
"I'm fine!" Harry choked, wiping his mouth on his pajamas and shaking unontrollably. "There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about — we need to find out where he is — he's bleeding like mad — I was — it was a huge snake. . . ."
"I believe you, Harry." said Grace firmly pushing Harry back when he tried to stand up. "Neville's went to bring Professor McGonagall, okay?"
Then there were hurried footsteps coming up the stairs, and she heard Neville's voice again.
"Over here, Professor . . ."
Professor McGonagall came hurrying into the dormitory in her tartan dressing gown, her glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of her bony nose.
"What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?"
"It's Ron's dad," he said, sitting up again. "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen."
"What do you mean, you saw it happen?" said Professor McGonagall, her dark eyebrows contracting.
"I don't know. . . . I was asleep and then I was there. . . ."
"You mean you dreamed this?"
"No!" said Harry angrily. "I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid . . . and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it, Mr. Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is. . . ."
Professor McGonagall was gazing at him through her lopsided spectacles as though horrified at what she was seeing.
"I'm not lying, and I'm not mad!" Harry told her, his voice rising to a shout. "I tell you, I saw it happen!"
"I believe you, Potter," said Professor McGonagall curtly. "Put on your dressing-gown — we're going to see the headmaster."
Harry did not hesitate, but jumped out of bed at once, pulled on his dressing gown, and pushed his glasses back onto his nose.
"Grace, Ron, you ought to come too," said Professor McGonagall.
They followed Professor McGonagall past the silent figures of Neville, Dean, and Seamus, out of the dormitory, down the spiral stairs into the common room, through the portrait hole, and off along the Fat Lady's moonlit corridor. They passed Mrs. Norris, who turned her lamplike eyes upon them and hissed faintly, but Professor McGonagall said, "Shoo!" Mrs. Norris slunk away into the shadows, and in a few minutes they had reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office.
"Fizzing Whizbee," said Professor McGonagall.
The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continuously upward like a spiral escalator. The four of them stepped onto the moving stairs; the wall closed behind them with a thud, and they were moving upward in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin.
Though it was now well past midnight, there were voices coming from inside the room, a positive babble of them. It sounded as though Dumbledore was entertaining at least a dozen people.
Professor McGonagall rapped three times with the griffin knocker, and the voices ceased abruptly as though someone had switched them all off. The door opened of its own accord and Professor McGonagall led Harry Grace, and Ron inside.
The room was in half darkness; the strange silver instruments standing on tables were silent and still rather than whirring and emitting puffs of smoke as they usually did. The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snoozing in their frames. Behind the door, a magnificent red-and-gold bird the size of a swan dozed on its perch with its head under its wing.
"Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall . . . and . . . ah."
Dumbledore was sitting in a high-backed chair behind his desk; he leaned forward into the pool of candlelight illuminating the papers laid out before him. He was wearing a magnificently embroidered purple-and-gold dressing gown over a snowy-white nightshirt, but seemed wide awake, his penetrating light-blue eyes fixed intently upon Professor McGonagall.
"Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a . . . well, a nightmare," said Professor McGonagall. "He says . . ."
"It wasn't a nightmare," said Harry quickly.
Professor McGonagall looked around at Harry, frowning slightly. "Very well, then, Potter, you tell the headmaster about it."
"I . . . well, I was asleep. . . ." said Harry, "But it wasn't an ordinary dream . . . it was real. . . . I saw it happen. . . ." He took a deep breath, "Ron's dad — Mr. Weasley — has been attacked by a giant snake."
The words seemed to reverberate in the air after he had said them, slightly ridiculous, even comic. There was a pause in which Dumbledore leaned back and stared meditatively at the ceiling. Grace looked from Harry to Dumbledore, white-faced and shocked.
"How did you see this?" Dumbledore asked quietly, still not looking at Harry.
"Well . . . I don't know," said Harry, rather angrily, "Inside my head, I suppose —"
"You misunderstand me," said Dumbledore, still in the same calm tone. "I mean . . . can you remember — er — where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"
"I was the snake," he said. "I saw it all from the snake's point of view. . . ."
Nobody else spoke for a moment, then Dumbledore, now looking at Ron and Grace, who were very white-faced, said in a new and sharper voice, "Is Arthur seriously injured?"
"Yes," said Harry emphatically.
But Dumbledore stood up so quickly that Grace jumped, and addressed one of the old portraits hanging very near the ceiling.
"Everard?" he said sharply. "And you too, Dilys!"
A sallow-faced wizard with short, black bangs and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both of whom seemed to have been in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately.
"You were listening?" said Dumbledore.
The wizard nodded, the witch said, "Naturally."
"The man has red hair and glasses," said Dumbledore. "Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people —"
Both nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighboring pictures (as usually happened at Hogwarts), neither reappeared; one frame now contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather armchair.
"Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwarts's most celebrated Heads," Dumbledore said, now sweeping around Harry, Grace, Ron, and Professor McGonagall and approaching the magnificent sleeping bird on his perch beside the door. "Their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important Wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere. . . ."
"But Mr. Weasley could be anywhere!" said Harry.
"Please sit down, all four of you," said Dumbledore, as though Harry had not spoken. "Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes. . . . Professor McGonagall, if you could draw up extra chairs . . ."
Professor McGonagall pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waved it; four chairs appeared out of thin air, straight-backed and wooden.
Grace sat down, watching Dumbledore over her shoulder. Dumbledore was now stroking Fawkes's plumed golden head with one finger. The phoenix awoke immediately. He stretched his beautiful head high and observed Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.
"We will need," said Dumbledore very quietly to the bird, "a warning."
There was a flash of fire and the phoenix had gone.
Dumbledore now swooped down upon one of the fragile silver instruments whose function Grace had never known, carried it over to his desk, sat down facing them again, and tapped it gently with the tip of his wand.
The instrument tinkled into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. Tiny puffs of pale green smoke issued from the minuscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore watched the smoke closely, his brow furrowed, and after a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air. . . . A serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide.
"Naturally, naturally," murmured Dumbledore apparently to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. "But in essence divided?"
Grace could make neither head nor tail of this question. The smoke serpent, however, split itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. With a look of grim satisfaction Dumbledore gave the instrument another gentle tap with his wand: The clinking noise slowed and died, and the smoke serpents grew faint, became a formless haze, and vanished.
Dumbledore replaced the instrument upon its spindly little table. Just then the wizard called Everard had reappeared in his portrait, panting slightly.
"Dumbledore!"
"What news?" said Dumbledore at once.
"I yelled until someone came running," said the wizard, who was mopping his brow on the curtain behind him, "said I'd heard something moving downstairs — they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check — you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left —"
"Good," said Dumbledore as Ron made a convulsive movement, "I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive, then —"
And moments later, the silver-ringletted witch had reappeared in her picture too; she sank, coughing, into her armchair and said, "Yes, they've taken him to St. Mungo's, Dumbledore. . . . They carried him past under my portrait. . . . He looks bad. . . ."
"Thank you," said Dumbledore. He looked around at Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children."
"Of course. . . ."
Professor McGonagall got up and moved swiftly to the door; Grace saw Harry cast a sideways glance at her and Ron, but didn't dare meet his eyes.
"And Dumbledore — what about Molly?" said Professor McGonagall, pausing at the door.
"That will be a job for Fawkes when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching," said Dumbledore. "But she may already know . . . that excellent clock of hers . . ."
Dumbledore was now rummaging in a cupboard behind Harry, Grace, and Ron. He emerged from it carrying a blackened old kettle, which he placed carefully upon his desk. He raised his wand and murmured "Portus"; for a moment the kettle trembled, glowing with an odd blue light, then it quivered to a rest, as solidly black as ever.
Dumbledore marched over to another portrait, this time of a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard, who had been painted wearing the Slytherin colors of green and silver and was apparently sleeping so deeply that he could not hear Dumbledore's voice when he attempted to rouse him.
"Phineas. Phineas."
And now the subjects of the portraits lining the room were no longer pretending to be asleep; they were shifting around in their frames, the better to watch what was happening. When the cleverlooking wizard continued to feign sleep, some of them shouted his name too.
"Phineas! Phineas! PHINEAS!"
He could not pretend any longer; he gave a theatrical jerk and opened his eyes wide.
"Did someone call?"
"I need you to visit your other portrait again, Phineas," said Dumbledore. "I've got another message."
"Visit my other portrait?" said Phineas in a reedy voice, giving a long, fake yawn. "Oh no, Dumbledore, I am too tired tonight. . . ."
"Insubordination, sir!" roared a corpulent, red-nosed wizard, brandishing his fists. "Dereliction of duty!"
"We are honor-bound to give service to the present Headmaster of Hogwarts!" cried a frail-looking old wizard whom Harry recognized as Dumbledore's predecessor, Armando Dippet. "Shame on you, Phineas!"
"Shall I persuade him, Dumbledore?" called a gimlet-eyed witch, raising an unusually thick wand that looked not unlike a birch rod.
"Oh, very well," said the wizard called Phineas, eyeing this wand slightly apprehensively, "though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done most of the family —"
"Sirius knows not to destroy your portrait," said Dumbledore. "You are to give him the message that Arthur Weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children, and Harry Potter will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?"
"Arthur Weasley, injured, wife and children and Harry Potter coming to stay," recited Phineas in a bored voice. "Yes, yes . . . very well. . . ."
He sloped away into the frame of the portrait and disappeared from view at the very moment that the study door opened again. Fred, George, and Ginny were ushered inside by Professor McGonagall, all three of them looking disheveled and shocked, still in their night things.
"Harry — what's going on?" asked Ginny, who looked frightened. "Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad hurt —"
"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore before Harry could speak. "He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. You will meet your mother there."
"How're we going?" asked Fred, looking shaken. "Floo powder?"
"No," said Dumbledore, "Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey." He indicated the old kettle lying innocently on his desk. "We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back. . . . I wish to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you —"
There was a flash of flame in the very middle of the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor.
"It is Fawkes's warning," said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. "She must know you're out of your beds. . . . Minerva, go and head her off — tell her any story —"
Professor McGonagall was gone in a swish of tartan.
"He says he'll be delighted," said a bored voice behind Dumbledore; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. "My great-great-grandson has always had odd taste in houseguests. . ."
"Come here, then," Dumbledore said to Harry and the Weasleys. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us . . ."
Harry and the others gathered around Dumbledore's desk.
"You have all used a Portkey before?" asked Dumbledore, and they nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. "Good. On the count of three then . . . one . . . two . . . . three.""
Grace felt a powerful jerk behind her navel, the ground vanished from beneath her feet, her hand was glued to the kettle; she was banging into the others as all sped forward in a swirl of colors and a rush of wind, the kettle pulling them onward and then —
Her feet hit the ground so hard that her knees buckled, the kettle clattered to the ground and somewhere close at hand a voice said,
"Back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their father's dying . . . ?"
"OUT!" roared a second voice.
Grace scrambled to her feet and looked around; they had arrived in the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper. Kreacher was disappearing through the door to the hall, looking back at them malevolently as he hitched up his loincloth; Sirius was hurrying toward them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a slightly Mundungus-like whiff of stale drink about him.
"What's going on?" he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured —"
"Ask Harry," said Fred.
"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," said George.
The twins and Ginny were staring at him. Kreacher's footsteps had stopped on the stairs outside.
"It was —" Harry began. "I had a — a kind of — vision. . . ."
And he told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes.
Grace peered at him, Ron, who was still very white, gave him a fleeting look, but did not speak. When Harry had finished, Fred, George, and Ginny continued to stare at him for a moment.
"Is Mum here?" said Fred, turning to Sirius.
"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," said Sirius. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now."
"We've got to go to St. Mungo's," said Ginny urgently. She looked around at her brothers; they were of course still in their pajamas. "Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything — ?"
"Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!" said Sirius.
"'Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want," said Fred, with a mulish expression, "he's our dad!"
"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?"
"What does that matter?" said George hotly.
"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!" said Sirius angrily. "Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"
Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still white-faced and silent. Grace quietly stood in a corner, as white as Ron and silent. Ginny said, "Somebody else could have told us. . . . We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry. . . ."
"Like who?" said Sirius 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. Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!"
He took a deep breath before continuing, "I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?"
Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair next to Grace and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and shrug, before turning to Grace who shrugged and they sat down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats on either side of Ginny.