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Aurora Areli
MY SOCKS MADE LITTLE sound as I tiptoed my way down the dark, dingy corridor. Eyes darting left and right, on careful lookout for anyone that might sneak up on me, I finally found myself at a narrow wooden door. This was it. Everything I needed was just behind it.
Just when I placed my hand on the cool metal doorknob (that happened to be shaped like a serpent's head) a bright light suddenly appeared to my left. I jumped in surprise, and whirled around to see where it had come from.
It was my father. He was holding his wand and frowning.
"Rory, what do you think you're doing?" Dad said, making me instantly retract my hand from the door and hold it behind me.
"Nothing!" I said quickly. "I was just . . . looking for the bathroom?"
Dad gave me a deadpan look. "Really? Because it seems to me like you were trying to get inside the study, which, as everyone knows, is where you keep the tools to write a letter."
"Uh — er — no," I said unconvincingly, even to myself. "Why would I do that?"
"Let's see . . ." Dad paused in mock thought. "Maybe because you know perfectly well that you're not allowed to have those tools, seeing that you lost those privileges weeks ago."
I winced. "Can you really blame me for just wanting to give Harry even the littlest bit of information? I mean, come on, Dad, nobody's telling him anything! Do you know how furious he must be?"
"Rory, keep your voice down, people are trying to sleep," Dad said sternly, making me shut my mouth. "As you should be as well. I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but so deliberately disobeying the rules we have set in place, so that all the work we have done to keep you safe doesn't get compromised, is completely unacceptable. Now let's go."
"But, Dad!" I pleaded, as he steered me through the dark moldy house and back to my shared room. "All the other letters we've sent so far have been fine! None of them have been intercepted —"
"— and we are not going to take the chance to let them," he told me.
"But —"
"There is no discussing this, Rory," Dad said severely, as we came to a halt in front of the door to the room. "If you try and sneak around like this again, there will be consequences."
I bit my lip harshly to keep from talking back. There was no use trying to convince him — or any of the adults, for that matter — that Harry deserved to not be left in the dark. I knew how terrible it felt. So, without saying another word to my father, I turned and slipped inside the room I was sharing with Hermione and Ginny.
Once I had shut the door (admittedly a little harder than necessary) and turned the lock, I turned to see the two of them staring at me curiously.
"Well?" Ginny said, leaning forward eagerly. "Did you get them?"
"No, my dad caught me," I said grumpily. I then proceeded to trudge over to the bed I had been sleeping in and fall backwards onto it, still scowling.
Ginny spent the remaining time before we fell asleep coming up with outrageous plans for me to somehow get my hands on a quill and parchment. While her words were amusing, they didn't do much to ease my frustration with everyone that was allowed in on the Order meetings.
Dumbledore, especially, had been horribly irritating over the summer holidays. First, he made my family move into Sirius' old house (otherwise known as the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, a secret society founded back when my parents were in school) less than a week in. Instead of being allowed in on the Order's meetings in the kitchen, I was stuck cleaning out the place with Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny and Atticus.
Alongside that, Dumbledore still hadn't told me anything on why I kept having dreams that often came true. I had only seen him a few times, but he somehow managed to escape whenever I tried to talk to him.
If I was annoyed while actually being allowed to stay with everyone, I could only imagine how Harry felt. I had tried to sneak him letters explaining everything, but each time I was caught, until eventually I wasn't allowed to have quills, ink and parchment anymore. Hermione had to add anything I wanted to say to Harry at the end of her letters.
It went on like that for a while, until one evening, my mum and Mr Weasley came back in a hurry to tell everyone that Harry had encountered Dementors back at his house in Little Whinging, and was expelled for fighting them off with magic in front of his cousin. He had a hearing at the Ministry on the twelfth of August, which was good news, but considering how Fudge was talking at the end of fourth year, I wasn't sure what to expect.
After four agonizing days of nobody telling me anything, and the whole house being on edge (including the paintings who, seeming to sense the tension in the air, were especially inclined to screaming their frames off), it was finally revealed to us untrustworthy children that a guard would be going to get Harry some time in the evening.
Unfortunately, I was not allowed to go, no matter how much I begged. I knew that Harry would be safe with everyone that was going, including my mum, Uncle Remus, and Mad-Eye Moody, but I still would have liked to be there.
After coming to that conclusion, I ended up waiting in Ron and Harry's (when he got here) room for hours with Hermione and Ron. There was an Order meeting starting soon, so the adults thought it was best for us to remain upstairs.
"How much longer do you think they're going to be?" I said, anxiously running my fingers over the many scabs on my hands. The same night we had gotten news of the Dementors' attack on Harry, Hedwig had come to us with a letter from him for Ron, Hermione, Sirius and I. We were told not to respond, so the snowy owl pecked each of us to the point where she drew blood.
"Shouldn't be long now," Ron said, checking his watch.
"Oh, he's going to be so upset," I said, frowning. "I hate that we weren't allowed to tell him anything, I know I'd be —"
I abruptly stopped talking at the sound of footsteps outside the door. The three of us exchanged glances just as the door opened, causing all of our heads to turn towards it.
To my relief, it was Harry who was on the other side. He definitely seemed to have grown over the summer — he was much taller than I remembered, and his features sharper, but his hair was still messy as ever.
I stood up to greet him, but Hermione beat me to it. She let out a shriek and tackled him into a hug that almost knocked him over. Ron's owl Pigwidgeon seemed to think this was some kind of game, because he began to zoom around our heads excitedly.
"HARRY!" Hermione cried. "Ron, Rory, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless — but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us — the Dementors! When we heard — and that Ministry hearing — it's just outrageous, Rory and I looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations —"
"Let him breathe, Hermione," Ron told her, grinning as he closed the door to keep the paintings at bay.
Still beaming, Hermione let go of Harry, but before I could get any kind of word in, a soft whooshing sound and a blur of white feathers swooped down from the top of the wardrobe and landed gently on his shoulder.
"Hedwig!" Harry smiled happily at his owl. She clicked her beak and nibbled his ear affectionately as he stroked her.
"She's been in a right state," Ron said. "Pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters, look at this —"
He showed Harry the index finger of his right hand, which sported a half-healed but clearly deep cut. I glanced down at my own hands, which had far more than just one injury, and crossed my arms. Hedwig had been especially ruthless when it came to me.
"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know —"
"We wanted to give them to you, mate," Ron said. "Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you'd do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, and Rory actually tried to write you a bunch of times, but she got caught, and Dumbledore made us —"
"— swear not to tell me," Harry finished Ron's sentence for him, his tone not as warm as it was before. "Yeah, Hermione's already said."
I bit my lip. This was exactly what I was afraid of. I knew Harry would be angry — I definitely would be if I were in his position — but I still wasn't fully prepared for it.
"He seemed to think it was best," Hermione said rather breathlessly. "Dumbledore, I mean."
"Right," Harry said shortly.
"I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles —" Ron began.
"Yeah?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows. "Have any of you been attacked by Dementors this summer?"
"Well, no —" Ron said, "but that's why he's had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time —"
"Didn't work that well, though, did it?" Harry said, his voice wavering. "Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?"
"He was so angry," Hermione said, her tone almost awestruck. "Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary."
"Well, I'm glad he left," Harry said coldly. "If he hadn't, I wouldn't have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer."
"Harry —" I tried to say, but at the look on his face, I closed my mouth.
Hermione spoke up next, quietly. "Aren't you . . . aren't you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?"
"No," Harry said defiantly, but I knew he was lying. I chose not to mention it. Instead, I watched as he brushed past us, with Hedwig still nestled on his shoulder. As he looked around at the dark walls, Harry said, in a faux-casual voice, "So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark? Did you — er — bother to ask him at all?"
Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, but I just stared at Harry, slightly hurt that he even had to ask. When we made eye contact, I saw that the storm brewing in his emerald eyes had not calmed in the slightest. If anything, it was only growing worse.
"We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on," Ron said. "We did, mate. But he's really busy now, we've only seen him twice since we came here and he didn't have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted. Rory actually got her quills and parchment taken away because she tried to send you that stuff so many times . . ."
Harry's eyes flashed to me. "He could still've kept me informed if he'd wanted to," he said shortly. "You're not telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls."
"Don't you think we thought of that?" I said, frowning. "But Dumbledore wouldn't let us try, he didn't want us to tell you anything."
"Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted," Harry said, watching all of us now.
"Don't be thick," Ron said, looking unnerved.
"Or that I can't take care of myself."
"Of course he doesn't think that," Hermione said anxiously.
"So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys' while you three get to join in everything that's going on here?" Harry said, his voice growing louder with every word. "How come you three are allowed to know everything that's going on?"
"We're not!" Ron exclaimed. "Mum won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young —"
But then, Harry started shouting at us.
"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS! BIG DEAL!" His first words made me jump, startled by the volume. "YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS' FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU THREE'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT — WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED ALL THREE OF YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS?"
Hedwig took fright at the noise and soared off the top of the wardrobe again, and Pigwidgeon twittered in alarm and zoomed faster around our heads. After getting over my initial shock, all I could do was gape at Harry in disbelief. Had he forgotten that I was there, too? I knew he was upset, but that didn't give him the right to ignore the fact that he wasn't the only one that had gone through those things.
"WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!"
At a glance, I saw that Ron was standing there with his mouth open, looking stunned and at a loss for anything to say, and Hermione seemed on the verge of tears. I was a mixture of both, but felt extremely irritated as well. There was really no need for him to scream at us. We hadn't had any other choice.
"BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?"
"Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did —" Hermione began, only to be cut off.
"CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR —"
"Well, he did —" Ron tried to say.
"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON —"
"We wanted to —"
"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER —"
I gritted my teeth, my own frustration taking over all other emotions. I had had enough.
"Harry!" I said loudly, cutting him off and forcing him to look at me. "Listen, I get that you're upset — you have every right to be! — but screaming your head off and saying the first presumptuous thing that comes to your mind isn't going to help anything!"
Harry opened his mouth in defiance, but I shut him down.
"No, I'm not done," I said sternly, stepping towards him. "We're sorry, all right? We've wanted to tell you everything since the second we learned about it, but we just couldn't. Now if you'll just calm down, we'll tell you what you want to know now, okay?"
Harry looked down at me, still breathing heavily, but seeming to take my words into consideration. There was a long pause, broken only by the mournful creak of the floorboards beneath our feet. Finally, he nodded before turning away to look around the room.
"What is this place, anyway?" Harry asked, looking around the dreary room.
"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," Ron said quickly, before I could say anything.
"Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix —?"
"It's a secret society," I said to Harry, walking up next to him. "Dumbledore founded it back when Voldemort first came into power when our parents were younger." Neither of us acknowledged Ron and Hermione's wince.
"Who's in it?" Harry asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Quite a few people —" Hermione started.
"We've met about twenty of them," Ron finished for her, "but we think there are more."
Harry looked at us with a mixture of a glare and expectancy.
"Well?" he said, looking between Ron, Hermione and me.
"Er," Ron said. "Well what?"
"Voldemort!" Harry said furiously, making Ron and Hermione wince again. "What's happening? What's he up to? Where is he? What are you doing to stop him?"
"We've told you, the Order don't let us in on their meetings," Hermione said nervously. "So we don't know the details — but we've got a general idea," she added hastily, seeing the look on Harry's face.
"Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see," Ron said. "They're really useful."
"Extendable —?"
"Ears, yeah," Ron confirmed. "Only we've had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realised what was going on."
"We know that some of the Order are following known Death Eaters," I said. "They've been keeping tabs on them ever since June —"
"Some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order —" said Hermione.
"And some of them are standing guard over something," Ron said. "They're always talking about guard duty."
"Couldn't have been me, could it?" Harry said sarcastically.
I couldn't help my lips quirking up in slight amusement at the look of dawning comprehension on Ron's face.
"Oh, yeah," he said.
Harry snorted, then walked around the room, looking anywhere but Ron, Hermione and me. "So, what have you three been doing, if you're not allowed in meetings?" he demanded. "You said you'd been busy."
"We have," Hermione said quickly. "We've been decontaminating this house, it's been empty for ages and stuff's been breeding in here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms and I think we're doing the drawing room tomoー AARGH!"
With two loud cracks, Fred and George had materialised out of thin air in the middle of the room. Pigwidgeon twittered more wildly than ever and zoomed off to join Hedwig on top of the wardrobe.
"Stop doing that!" Hermione said weakly to the twins.
"Hello, Harry," George said, beaming at him. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."
"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," Fred said, also beaming. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you."
"You two passed your Apparition tests, then?" Harry asked grumpily.
"With distinction," said Fred, who was holding one of the Extendable Ears.
"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," Ron said, unimpressed.
"Time is Galleons, little brother," Fred said. "Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception. Extendable ears," he added in response to Harry's raised eyebrows, and held up the flesh-coloured string that was trailing out onto the landing. "We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs."
"You want to be careful," Ron said, staring at the Ear, "if Mum sees one of them out again . . ."
"It's worth the risk, that's a major meeting they're having," said Fred.
The door opened and Ginny entered, smiling.
"Oh, hello, Harry!" she said brightly. "I thought I heard your voice."
Then she turned to Fred and George, and said, "It's a no-go with the Extendable Ears, she's gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door."
"How d'you know?" George asked, looking crestfallen.
"Tonks told me how to find out," Ginny explained. "You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap."
Fred sighed deeply.
"Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to."
"Snape!" Harry said quickly. "Is he here?"
"Yeah," George said, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds, soon followed by Fred and Ginny. "Giving a report. Top secret."
"Git," Fred said idly.
"A greasy one, at that," I said, taking a seat on the bed opposite them.
"He's on our side now," Hermione said reprovingly.
Ron snorted. "Doesn't stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us."
"Bill doesn't like him either," Ginny said, as though that settled the matter.
Harry sat down next to me, looking conflicted. Then, he asked, "Is Bill here? I thought he was working in Egypt?"
"He applied for a desk job so he could home and work for the Order," Fred said. "He says he misses the tombs, but," he smirked, "there are compensations."
"What do you mean?"
"Remember old Fleur Delacour?" said George. "She's got a job at Gringotts to eemprove 'er Eeenglish —"
"And Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons," Fred sniggered.
"Charlie's in the Order, too," George said, "but he's still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off."
"Couldn't Percy do that?" Harry asked.
At the mention of Percy's name, the Weasleys, Hermione and I exchanged dark looks.
"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad," Ron told Harry in a tense voice.
"Why not?"
"Because every time Percy's name's mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding and Mum starts crying," Fred said.
"It's been awful," Ginny said sadly.
I frowned. I couldn't imagine losing Atticus, even if he only stopped talking to me.
"I think we're well shot of him," George said, with an uncharacteristically ugly look on his face.
"What's happened?" Harry asked.
"Percy and Dad had a row," Fred said. "I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts."
"It was the first week back after term ended," Ron said. "We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted."
"You're kidding?" Harry said; I couldn't blame him for being surprised. It was shocking to me when I found out Percy had been promoted, given he had failed to see that his boss, Mr Crouch, was being controlled by Voldemort — not that the Ministry had believed anything other than that Crouch had gone mad.
"Yeah, we were all surprised," George nodded, "because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realised Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn't going to complain."
"So how come they promoted him?"
"That's exactly what we wondered," Ron said, seeming very keen to keep a normal conversation now that Harry had stopped yelling. "He came home really pleased with himself — even more pleased than usual, if you can imagine that — and told Dad he'd been offered a position in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts. Junior assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think."
"Only Dad wasn't," Fred said grimly.
"Why not?" Harry asked.
"Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking nobody's been having any contact with Dumbledore," George said.
"Dumbledore's name is mud with the Ministry these days, see," Fred said. "They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back."
"My mum and dad say that Fudge has made it clear that anyone who sides with Dumbledore can clear out their desks," I said. "It's been tough for them to convince him they're not."
"Fudge suspects our dad, too," said George, "he knows Dad's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession."
"But what's that got to do with Percy?" Harry said, looking confused.
"I'm coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family — and Dumbledore."
Harry let out a low whistle.
"Bet Percy loved that."
Ron laughed in a hollow sort of way.
"He went completely berserk. He said — well, he said loads of terrible stuff. He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition and that's why we've always been — you know — not had a lot of money, I mean —"
"What?" Harry said in disbelief, as Ginny made a noise like an angry cat.
"I know," Ron said in a low voice. "And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he — Percy — knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family any more. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now."
Harry swore under his breath. Despite the fact that I had already known all of this, I frowned as well. I knew Percy was very proud of his job, but I never imagined he would cross the line like that.
"Mum's been in a right state," Ron said. "You know — crying and stuff. She came up to London to try and talk to Percy but he slammed the door in her face. I dunno what he does if he meets Dad at work — ignores him, I s'pose."
"But Percy must know Voldemort's back," Harry said slowly. "He's not stupid, he must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof."
"Yeah, well, your name got dragged into the row," Ron said, casting Harry a furtive look. "Percy said the only evidence was your word and . . . I dunno . . . he didn't think it was good enough."
"Percy takes the Daily Prophet seriously," I said sardonically, and the others all nodded.
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, looking around at us all.
"Haven't — haven't you been getting the Daily Prophet?" Hermione asked nervously.
"Yeah, I have!" Harry said.
"Have you — er — been reading it thoroughly?" Hermione asked, still more anxiously.
"Not cover to cover," Harry said defensively. "If they were going to report anything about Voldemort it would be headline news, wouldn't it?"
Everyone but Harry and myself flinched at the sound of the name. Hermione hurried on, "Well, you'd need to read it cover to cover to pick it up, but they — um — they mention you a couple times a week."
"But I'd have seen —"
"Not if you'd only been reading the front page," I told him, shaking my head. "She doesn't mean the big articles. They sort of just — slip you in, like you're a standing joke."
"What d'you —?"
"It's quite nasty, actually," Hermione said, her voice forcefully calm. "They're just building on Rita's stuff."
"But she's not writing for them any more, is she?"
"Oh, no, she's kept her promise — not that she's got any choice," Hermione added with satisfaction. "But she laid the foundation for what they're trying to do now."
"Which is what?" Harry said impatiently.
"Okay, you know she wrote that you were collapsing all over the place and saying your scar was hurting and all that?"
"Yeah," Harry said, scowling at the memory.
"Well, they're writing about you as though you're this deluded, attention-seeking person who thinks he's a great tragic hero or something," Hermione said very fast, like it would bother Harry less if he heard these facts quickly. "They keep slipping in snide comments about you. If some far-fetched story appears, they say something like, 'A tale worthy of Harry Potter', and if anyone has a funny accident or anything it's, 'Let's hope he hasn't got a scar on his forehead or we'll be asked to worship him next' —"
"I don't want anyone to worship —" Harry began hotly.
"We know you don't," I told him earnestly.
Hermione nodded quickly. "But don't you see what they're doing? They want to turn you into something nobody will believe. Fudge is behind it, I'll bet anything. They want wizards on the street to think you're just some stupid boy who's a bit of a joke, who tells ridiculous tall stories because he loves being famous and wants to keep it going."
"I didn't ask — I didn't want — Voldemort killed my parents!" Harry spluttered. "I got famous because he murdered my family but couldn't kill me! Who wants to be famous for that? Don't they think I'd rather it'd never —"
"We know, Harry," I said, putting my hand on his forearm. He put his hand over mine without looking at me.
"And of course, they didn't report a word about the Dementors attacking you," Hermione went on. "Someone's told them to keep that quiet. That should've been a really big story, out-of-control Dementors. They haven't even reported that you broke the International Statute of Secrecy. We thought they would, it would tie in so well with this image of you as some stupid show-off. We think they're biding their time until you're expelled, then they're really going to go to town — I mean, if you're expelled, obviously," she added hastily, seeing the look on my face. "You really shouldn't be, not if they abide by their own laws, there's no case against you."
Before one of us could say anything else, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs made the twins' eyes widen.
"Uh oh."
Fred gave the Extendable Ear a hearty tug, and with another loud crack, he and George vanished. Seconds later, Mrs Weasley appeared in the bedroom doorway.
"The meeting's over, you can come down and have dinner now. Everyone's dying to see you, Harry. And who's left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?"
"Crookshanks," Ginny lied smoothly. "He loves playing with them."
"Oh," Mrs Weasley said, "I thought it might have been Kreacher, he keeps doing odd things like that. Now don't forget to keep your voices down in the hall. Ginny, your hands are filthy, what have you been doing? Go and wash them before dinner, please."
Ginny grimaced at us and followed her mother out of the room, leaving the four of us alone. Ron, Hermione and I watched Harry apprehensively. I was almost afraid he would start yelling again, now that it was just us.
Harry moved his arm to lace his fingers with mine, which I took as a good sign. "Look . . ." he muttered, but Ron shook his head, and Hermione said, "We knew you'd be angry, Harry, we really don't blame you, but you've got to understand, we did try to persuade Dumbledore —"
"Yeah, I know," Harry said shortly. He paused, looking like he didn't want to continue on this subject any longer, before finally asking, "Who's Kreacher?"
"The house-elf who lives here," Ron said. "Nutter. Never met one like him."
Hermione frowned at Ron.
"He's not a nutter, Ron."
"His life's ambition is to have his head cut off and stuck up on a plaque just like his mother," Ron said irritably. "Is that normal, Hermione?"
"Well — well, if he is a bit strange, it's not his fault."
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry.
"Hermione still hasn't given up on spew."
"It's not 'spew'!" Hermione said heatedly. "It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. And it's not just me, Dumbledore says we should be kind to Kreacher, too."
"Yeah, yeah," Ron said dismissively. "C'mon, I'm starving."
He led the way out of the door and onto the landing, but before we even reached the stairs —
"Hold it!" Ron breathed, flinging out one of his arms to stop Harry, Hermione and I walking any further. "They're still in the hall, we might be able to hear something."
The four of us looked cautiously over the banisters at the gloomy hall below, which was packed with witches and wizards. They were whispering excitedly together. In the very center of the group, I saw the dark, greasy-haired head and prominent nose of Professor Snape.
A thin piece of flesh-coloured string that I knew to be an Extendable Ear descended in front of us. I looked up to see Fred, George and Atticus on the landing above, cautiously lowering it towards the dark knot of people below. However, they all began to move towards the front door and out of sight a moment later.
"Dammit," Fred whispered, as he hoisted the Extendable Ear back up again.
The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed up the staircase.
"Snape never eats here," I told Harry, who had not let go of my hand, quietly.
"Thank God for that," Ron muttered. "C'mon."
"And don't forget to keep your voice down in the hall, Harry," Hermione whispered.
As we passed the disturbing row of house-elf heads on the wall, Uncle Remus, Mrs Weasley and Tonks came into sight near the front door, magically sealing its many locks and bolts behind everyone who had just left.
"We're eating down in the kitchen," Mrs Weasley whispered; she met us at the bottom of the stairs. "Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall through this door here —"
CRASH.
"Tonks!" Mrs Weasley cried, exasperated, as she turned to look behind her.
"I'm sorry!" Tonks wailed from her spot on the floor, where she was lying flat on her backside. "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over —"
She didn't get to finish her sentence, however, because a horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech drowned out the rest.
I winced at the sound. The moth-eaten velvet curtains covering the painting of that horrible old woman in a black cap had flown open, allowing her to begin screaming and screaming as though she were being tortured. Her drooling, eye-rolling, yellowed and stretched-skinned face only shrieked louder every second, and eventually woke the other paintings, who began yelling as well. Harry let go of my hand to clap his hands over his ears.
Uncle Remus and Mrs Weasley darted forward and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old woman, but they would not budge, and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at their faces.
"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers —"
Tonks apologised repeatedly as she dragged the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor. Mrs Weasley abandoned the attempt to close Walburga Black's curtains and hurried up and down the hall, Stunning all the other portraits with her wand. Then, Sirius came charging out of a door facing us.
"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roared, seizing the curtain Mrs Weasley abandoned.
The old woman's face blanched.
"Yoooou!" she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of her son. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"
"I said — shut — UP!" Sirius roared, before he, Uncle Remus and Dad, who had just emerged from downstairs, managed to force the curtains closed again with a tremendous effort.
Finally, the old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell.
Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, Sirius turned to face Harry.
"Hello, Harry," he said grimly, "I see you've met my mother."
-
here we go, order of the phoenix has officially started. i'm super excited to write this, and share everything i have planned. all my classes have been moved online until april 13th so that means i'll definitely be able to update more.
also, we're almost at 100k! that's insane to me, thank you so so so so much to everyone who's taken the time to read!!