The Order of the Phoenix
“What’s a portrait of your mother doing here?” Harry asked idly as he was led by Sirius across the hall to the flight of stairs leading to the kitchen doorway, the others just behind them.
"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house. But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for Headquarters--about the only useful thing I've been able to do." It was here that Harry took notice of how closed off his godfather appeared, which was unusual but something he strangely found he didn’t mind all that much, maybe was even comforted by. Because maybe, the bitter tone meant Sirius was feeling even a little bit as angry as he was. Though he did have to ask an important question, because after all he’d heard, and just the existence of Tonks, heading down the stairs behind him…
“How can you be the last Black? What about the… you know… sisters?” Sirius clearly seemed to understand which three sisters in particular he was referring to as his face darkened and his jaw stiffened, but he answered his godson's question anyway. “Oh, yes. Well, due to them being women and married into separate families, rights of all property must fall to the closest male unmarried option, and I happened to be the only male and unmarried option. They’ll have their own wills when they die, Tonks too.” He added, sensing Harry’s impending thoughts as they entered the basement kitchen.
Could it be considered an upgrade? No, but it wasn’t that much worse either, and definitely the best basement Harry had ever been in, though now that he knew the house had belonged to pure-blood supremacists he realized they must have wanted to keep their house in the best condition before they died, though it clearly hadn’t lasted that much longer after they all were gone.
Harry could see a fire at the far end of the room, a massive furnace built into the cavernous stone walls, where the main source of light came from, he supposed, and smoke hung in the air amongst heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. There were chairs all crammed around the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the center, littered with various rolls of parchment, empty goblets and wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags.
Mr. Weasley and Bill stood at the end of the table, heads together, both wearing grins on their faces as Tess began to speak to them, and Harry assumed she was breaking the news of finally getting Percy to write to Dumbledore.
Molly cleared her throat as everyone entered, however, and Arthur, a usually thin and balding red-haired man who looked more exhausted than usual, with horn-rimmed glasses near identical to his middle son’s, looked around and jumped to his feet when he spotted the boy at the other end of the room.
“Harry!” He exclaimed, hurrying forward to greet him, shaking his hand vigorously. “Good to see you!” Harry nodded, forced a smile, but tried in vain to get a look at the parchment on the table only for Bill and Tess to quickly move to scoop them up. “Journey all right, Harry? Mad-Eye didn’t make you come via Greenland, then?” The eldest Weasley called.
“He tried,” said Tonks, striding forward to help Bill but instantly toppling over a candle on the last piece of parchment. “Oh no--sorry -”
“Here, dear,” said Molly, sounding exasperated, and she repaired the parchment with her wand, and in the second the paper lit up from the glow of the spell, Harry could see what looked to be a plan of a building, but a moment later Molly had shoved it into Bill’s arms, snapping, “This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings!” And she grabbed Tess by the arm and dragged her over to the rows of plates laden with food sitting on various counters and an ancient dresser.
Sirius grabbed Harry around the shoulders and led him to a seat at the table. “Sit down, Harry. Had a good summer so far?”
Harry didn’t resist trying to tread the topic lightly, bluntly saying, “No, it’s been lousy,” and he was grateful he did so, as something like a grin flitted across Sirius’s face.
“Don’t know what you’re complaining about, myself. I can understand having no contact with the outside world, but at least you can move. Stretch your legs, get into a few fights… Though, you look pretty much good as new. Have you been moving, Harry?” He had taken a few walks, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten beaten up by Dudley’s gang, and assumed quite the opposite was going on between him and his cousin right now, so he merely shrugged. “I’ve been around.” Then, after a pause, where Harry startled but sighed when he saw the movement at his leg was merely Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks, who was climbing up onto Sirius’s lap comfortably, he asked, “Why can’t you leave?”
Sirius gave a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Because the Ministry of Magic’s still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There’s not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix… or so Dumbledore feels.”
At the mere mention of the Headmaster, Harry could tell he wasn’t the only one who got a little stiff in the bones, and could feel his stomach turn with something that certainly wasn’t hunger, though the bowls of stew Tess was setting before them looked quite pleasing.
“At least you’ve known what’s been going on.” He said bravingly, to which Sirius huffed. “Oh yeah,” he said sarcastically. “Listening to Snape’s reports, having to take all his snide hints that he’s out there risking his life while I’m sitting on my backside here having a nice comfortable time… asking me how the cleaning is going. But he doesn’t have to live in this place! Look at it, abandoned for ten years. Someone has to make it fit for human habitation.”
“Fred--George--NO, JUST CARRY THEM!”
Sirius grabbed Harry and pushed him down into a duck just in time as the largest cauldron of stew yet, and iron flagon of Butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard (which of course had a knife stuck in its surface) flew straight over their heads. The stew, surprisingly, managed to slow to a stop at the end of the table but did indeed leave an ugly mark in its wake, and the flagon fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere. The breadboard got the worst of it, as the knife slipped and fell hurtling towards Sirius and Harry, landing right where Sirius’s hand had been only moments before. Slowly Harry rose, and his eyes fell on Fred and George at the other end of the table, eyes wide with embarrassment and horror.
“FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!” Screamed their mother, slamming her dish towel down to stomp over and scream in their faces. “THERE WAS NO NEED--I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS--JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON’T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!”
“We were just trying to save a bit of time!” Fred cried, hurrying forward to wrench the bread knife out of the table while George bent to clean up the butterbear, saying, “Tess didn’t need to set the table all on her own…” Though it seemed the Dutch girl would have preferred that greatly as she was currently rubbing a bruise on her forehead from where the breadboard had smacked her.
“Sorry, Sirius, mate--didn’t mean to--” But Fred caught the way Sirius was grinning, and a second later he and Harry had both burst out laughing, Tess following soon after as she got a look at the ugly lump on her head and snorted. That seemed to calm the twin’s spirits, and it certainly did Harry’s, as he couldn’t remember the last time his laugh had sounded this genuine and joyful. But the boys’ parents weren’t done yet.
“Boys,” Arthur said, standing from his seat and lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, “Your mother’s right, you’re supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you’ve come of age--”
“None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!” Molly raged, bustling over with her husband to Tess and waving around her wand and tapping it on the big lumpy bruise. “Bill didn’t feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn’t charm everything he met! Percy wouldn’t ruin a dinner to make things quicker!” Tess chuckled, pushing the two Weasley’s off of her and heading for her seat, seemingly fine with the bruise completely as she squeezed Fred’s shoulder when she passed him. “Well Percy needs to learn to have a little fun.”
“Why would I do that?”
Everyone turned in surprise at the new sound, Molly doing a full one eighty in shock, because there in the doorway stood Percy Weasley himself, looking as formal as always with ironed black robes and hair cleanly combed back, but his face gave it away, as his eyes were sunken and exhausted, deep bags hanging below them, his lips pulled down in a tight frown. Harry remembered the last time he'd seen him a year ago, full of life and ambition at earning a new job and a beautiful girlfriend, before he was swiftly pulled out of the Tournament due to the Barty Crouch incident, and realized whatever came in his life after that had wrecked his formal exterior and strive for work.
He looked angry and exhausted, which Harry could relate to very deeply, right now.
“Percy!” The middle child's mother exclaimed, practically skipping towards him in glee. Tess stayed back, a solemn look of curiosity taking on her features, before cautiously, very cautiously, stepping forward. “We didn't think you'd come!” The man quickly brushed past his mother as she reached out to grab him, waving his hand only slightly as he kept his head low, away from everyone else’s gazes, walking towards Harry.
“Why did you come?” Fred asked, in a tone that could very much be taken as accusatory. Percy paused in front of Harry to glance over at him, and for just a moment, he swore he saw guilt, before the blue eyes faded again like a cloudy sky as he simply mumbled, “I was hungry,” and held his hand out to Harry. “Hello, Harry. How was the trip?”
The younger boy shook his hand and shrugged his shoulders, saying, “It was alright. Bit cold but… Didn’t get into any trouble.” To which Percy nodded and started to back away. “Try to keep it down if you are going to keep on yelling, would you? I’m doing important work up there.” He said and then continued to a seat on the other end of the table silently, Tess quickly making her way to his side and seating herself there.
“Alright…” Bill said, clapping his hands together and forcing a comforting grin to the quiet and tense room. “Let’s eat.”
Silence still hung over everyone as they took their seats, but it was less tense, more awkward. As if no one wanted to be the first to speak. Arthur sat himself on one end of the table, his wife sliding in a seat beside him anxiously but feeling comforted as Bill sat across from her and squeezed her hand, making her send a warm smile to her side as Tess sat down, but the girl was focused on whispering in her boyfriend's ear, who only gestured to the bump on her forehead and whispered a question of it, Tess quickly explaining how the breadboard had fallen.
Harry took a seat beside Percy when no one else would and Hermione bravely strode forward to take the seat across from Tess and Ron seating himself beside her, across from Percy, and the twins both sat beside their little brother, Ginny beside Harry, but they all still ignored Percy’s presence, as Remus, Tonks, and Sirius sat at the end of the table together.
They began to eat, and silence fell once more. As it hung in the air, Harry watched blankly as Tess shifted her seat closer to Percy's. As Hermione snuck her hand in Ron's. As Tonks' eyes kept slipping to Remus and Ginny's to him. For a fleeting instant, a small, vulnerable thought floated across Harry's mind, as he imagined platinum blonde hair beside him instead of bright red. But he had pushed the thought down in the next second as Molly raised her head to break the silence.
“I've been meaning to tell you, Sirius, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room. It keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a Boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out.” At the other end of the table, Sirius shrugged. “Whatever you like,” he said indifferently.
“The curtains in there are full of Doxys, too,” Molly continued. “I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it,” Sirius said, and Harry could clearly recognize the sarcasm.
“While you're at it, if you wouldn’t mind,” Everyone instantly stiffened once more as Percy cleared his throat and straightened in his seat, glancing over at his mother briefly to indicate who he was speaking to but other than that keeping his head low. “Tess and I are having difficulty sleeping with the amount of cobwebs and dust around, which are being quite stubborn about dissipating with a simple scourgify. We would do it the muggle way, mind you, but the ceilings are too high for either of us to reach.” Harry stifled a laugh but the twins gave in to a chuckle, because it was true the two were a short pair, Tess barely over five foot and Percy steady with his father’s height.
“Of course, dear.” Molly said quickly with the air of someone who would do anything to see the other simply smile. “We’ll get on that right away.”
The group spoke more freely after that, breaking off into separate conversations. Tonks was entertaining Hermione and Ginny by transforming her nose into any shape they asked, which Harry guessed was a regular occurance by eager they were when asking for their favorites. Tess seemed amused by this too, but was immersed in whispering to her boyfriend, who only gave silent nods, shakes of the head, or taps of his fingers on the table in response. Meanwhile, Arthur, Bill, and Remus had delved into a discussion of Goblins, trying to guess which side they’d go for when the news of Voldemort’s return inevitably came out.
“I’m sure they’d never go over to You-Know-Who,” Arthur was saying, shaking his head. “They’ve suffered losses too; remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?”
“I think it depends what they’re offered,” said Lupin. “And I’m not talking about gold. If they’re offered the freedoms we’ve been denying them for centuries and to which they are very well deserved, they’re going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?”
“He’s feeling pretty anti-Wizard at the moment,” said Bill, “He hasn’t stopped raging about the Bagman business, he reckons the Ministry did a cover-up, those Goblins never got their gold from him, you know, complete injustice, in my opinion.”
After several helpings around for everyone, Percy dropped his napkin and pushed back his chair, placing a quick peck on his girlfriend’s lips at her surprised expression briefly before standing. “I’ll be going back to work now. I trust Tess told you about the letter?” The table, having fallen silent as soon as the creaking of Percy’s chair was heard, all nodded silently, some glancing briefly at each other. “Good. Dad,” Arthur’s third son met his gaze for the first time that night sternly, and there was a glimmer of something soft in both pairs of blue when they locked. “I’ll need to send out Hermes to deliver it, and I’ll be out for work early tomorrow, as usual. I’ll see you there.” And with a firm nod he had turned and marched for the stairs out of the kitchen, Tess quickly pushing away from the table and following, only giving a halfhearted wave to the others before disappearing with her boyfriend.
After a beat of silence, Bill clears his throat and his mother snaps back to attention out of a daze, beaming at the table and declaring, “Nearly time for bed, I think?” Though immediately being interrupted by Sirius’ fork clanging to his plate and being pushed aside as he folded his hands and leaned towards Harry.
“Not just yet, Molly. Harry, I’m surprised at you. I thought the first thing you’d do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.”
And the room, which was already tensely silent with the departure of Percy and Tess, now descended into cold silence as all eyes turned cautiously towards Harry, who stared down Sirius, feeling his jaw tense, teeth threatening to grind against each other inside his jaw.
“I did!” he said indignantly. “I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we’re not allowed in the Order, so--”
“And they’re quite right,” Molly interrupted, sitting bolt upright now, eyes wide and angry. “You’re too young.”
“Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions? Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen--”
“Hang on!” George interrupted suddenly and quite loudly. “How come Harry gets his questions answered?” Fred accused angrily beside him, and Crookshanks, who had been nestling on Ginny’s lap and batting at her hair, sprung from her lap and towards the furnace, frightened. “We’ve been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven’t told us a single stinking thing!” “‘You’re too young, you’re not in the Order! Harry’s not even of age!”
“It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,” said Sirius calmly, “that’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand--”
“It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!” Molly snapped once more, to which Sirius sucked in a sharp breath before sighing very deeply, clearly restraining himself as she asked, “You haven’t forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?”
And while he still maintained eye contact and polite talk, hands folded all neat and back straight, Sirius’ voice dripped with the desire to punch Molly through the head as he asked, “Which bit?” clearly very aware of the answer.
“The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know.”
“I don’t intend to tell him more than he ‘needs to know’, Molly, but as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back he has more right than most to--”
“He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix! He’s only fifteen and--”
“And he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order, and more than some.”
“No one’s denying what he’s done! But he’s still--”
“He’s not a child!”
“He’s not an adult either!” Molly pushed herself from her chair to her feet, fists trembling at her sides, seconds away from smashing against the wood table, and whole face flushed red. The entire rest of the table has been stunned to silence, gazing up at her wide eyed and shocked, unsure whether to be scared or horrified. But Harry stared her down with narrow eyes, feeling heat rise just below the surface of his skin as he thought about how they were fighting literally over him, as if he was just rope in a game of tug of war.
Did either of them truly care what he had to say?
"He's not James, Sirius!" Something deep within Sirius' eyes flinched, but otherwise he remained stiff as stone. "I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," he said coldly, and Molly seemed to physically shiver with anger.
"I'm not sure you are! Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!" Harry blinked, frowned darkly, and finally found his voice in this fight, asking, "What's wrong with that?"
Molly turned her angry eyes to him, softening a bit as she shook her head in horror, shoulders slumping. "What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it." Finally, Sirius' calm expression gave way to anger, as his lips began to pull back in a sneer when he growled, "Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?"
Molly sighed. "Meaning you have been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay home and–"
"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!"
Molly threw up her hands and spun on her heel, glaring down at her husband, who was sitting back in his chair, just as stunned with the argument as everyone else. "Arthur! Arthur, back me up!"
Arthur was smart enough to know directly involving himself in this fight would be shortsighted, and instead removed his glasses, cleaning them slowly, very slowly, on his robes while everyone's eyes bore holes into them. Once he had placed the spectacles back on his nose he opened his mouth to speak, "Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that he is staying at Headquarters" and Molly explodes again.
"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!"
Lupin cleared his throat rather loudly, and Molly's head snapped around to him in surprise with the air of a woman who was daring him to speak and warning at the same time.
"Personally," Lupin said nonetheless and the woman deflated as he clearly supported an opinion opposite hers. "I think it better that Harry gets the facts--not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture--from us, rather than a garbled version from… others."
"Well," With heavy breathing, chest rising and falling exaggeratedly, Molly realized all the eyes of the table around her were those of plead or anger. No one was on her side anymore, because everyone wanted answers, or at least answers for Harry, some way or another. "Well… I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interest at heart–"
A quiet voice broke out across the table. So quiet, then when he turned his head to be sure, Harry was stunned to see it had come from his godfather.
"He's not your son."
"He's as good as!" Molly's response was fierce. "Who else has he got?"
Sirius' head snapped up in horror that she would dare ask that. "He's got me!"
"Yes," Molly practically growled. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"
Sirius' hands finally tightened to fists as he began to rise from his chair, Molly looking quite ready to meet him, but Lupin's hand sprung out to stop his friend too soon. "Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry. Sirius, sit down."
Both adults slowly resumed sitting, but both still shook with anger, deathly pale.
"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Lupin continued, "he's old enough to decide for himself "
Harry startled briefly when everyone's heads snapped to him, but it was very brief, and next second he was exclaiming, "I want to know what's been going on."
Molly huffed, exclaiming, "Very well!" Then smacking her hands on the wood table to stop the shaking, addressing her children in turn sharply, plus Hermione, “Ginny--Ron--Hermione--Fred--George--I want you out of this kitchen, now.”
And as soon as the words had come out of her mouth, rather predictably, the kids blew up.
“We’re of age!” Fred and George bellowed in unison with Ron shouting, “If Harry’s allowed, why can’t I?” And, gripping the sides of her chair Ginny wailed, “Mum, I want to hear!” But Molly was having none of it.
“NO!” She shouted, standing once more, to which Arthur rubbed his temple after trying in vain to stop her from rising. “I absolutely forbid--” “Molly, you can’t stop Fred and George,” The husband interrupted wearily. “They are of age.” Molly glared down at him, scarlet in the face. “They’re still at school.” Arthur didn’t even maintain eye contact. “But they’re legally adults now.”
So with a great sigh Molly surveyed the room of earnest eyes, frowning at her twin sons, and slumping. “I--oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron--”
“Harry’ll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!” Ron shouted even as his shirt was being tugged at by Hermione, who had already stood, realizing this was a lost cause. “Won’t--won’t you?” He added, a realization sparking in his eyes as they fell on Harry, and he remembered keeping him in the dark all year. He remembered his anger, and Harry did too, and for a fleeting, very brief moment, he wanted to keep him in the dark as well. To see how he liked it. But then he remembered how petty their fighting had been at the beginning of Fourth Year, and how especially now, with dark times ahead, he needed all his friends by his side.
“Course I will.” He said, and his best friends beamed, and it warmed his heart to see Hermione happy, and Ron so free of stress lines, that when they sat back down across from him and Bill stood up silently to drag Ginny away, that brief moment of cruelty seemed to have never happened at all.
"Okay, Harry…" He turned back to Sirius, eyes wide as the kitchen door shut. "What do you want to know?" And within a second he had asked the real thing that had brought him here in the first place.
"Is Draco okay?"
Everyone at the table immediately looked utterly confused, but understood quickly that the Gryffindor boy truly cared for the Slytherin prat, and so Lupin leaned towards him with a kind but tired smile. “No.” He said, straight to the point, and Harry felt a quick chill race down his spine at the simple sound.
“Oh Remus don’t be so dramatic,” Molly waved a hand, eyes boring into Harry seriously. “The truth is, Harry, we haven’t a clue if your friend is in danger or not. We’ve lost total contact with our connections within the Manor, we did weeks ago, and a few days after you threatened to leave the Dursley’s and stay there. It was then Dumbledore realized you must have been contacting each other without him knowing. He was mad at first, very angry, but then he realized you might serve as a good… source of communication, into what’s happening at the Manor.”
Harry blinked, feeling his hands clench beneath the table, then looked down at the line of people to see if this was some kind of a joke, but it was clear it wasn’t, as they all stared him down evenly, and so he released a shaky breath and said quietly, “So you brought me here… as a spy?”
“No! Of course not, Harry!” Molly shrieked at the same time Sirius grabbed his shoulder and said, “We were planning on picking you up anyway.”
“But fair warning we're still gonna use you as a spy,” Tonks said and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of parchment. “Especially after this…” She slid it towards Harry, who took it cautiously, and opened it up.
It was the letter from Draco, with the hastily scribbled six words and the blotch in the corner, but there were new words too. Finer written, glowing dimly on the page in yellow and hard to read as they shimmered in and out of existence, and they offered much more information than Harry had gotten from any of his friends or his godfather or even the news all summer.
I’ve been locked in my own room. Altais is the only reason I’m managing to send you this, and I know they’ll proofread it before it leaves the Manor. But Harry, you gotta help. Get your friends. Get their parents. Get any of those good hearted people like you that are gonna fight this ‘Dark Order’ because you’ll need them. He’s searching for a ‘weapon’ and they’re getting my Dad to find it. Show of his loyalty, I s’pose, but Harry… Harry, I'm in danger. I don’t know what they’re planning to do but they’re angry. I’m the reason you got away in the graveyard, and if your friends don’t come–
Harry, I’m scared.
Send help.
Please.
A long pause as he repeatedly read over the words, just to make sure they were real. To make sure he had read them right because they couldn’t be true, in any world. Draco couldn’t be in danger, not in his own home. His parents loved him he--
“What… How did you get this?” Harry found himself asking, looking around at the adults surrounding him accusingly. Fred reached his hand out and Harry slipped the letter to him, and he and George read it over, eyes widening and faces paling with every word. “It’s invisible ink.” Lupin explained and Tonks said, “I recognized it in your room instantly. Knew I had to get it to Moody--he knows how to dispel it.”
Harry recalled Ron’s gift of invisible ink to Draco on his birthday months ago, and instantly felt a rush of guilt he hadn’t noticed before.
“What are we gonna do?” He asked and George added instantly, placing the letter down and sliding it to Ron and Hermione, who picked it up instantly, looking just as worried as the twins had as they took in each word; “We have to help him!”
Sirius sighed rather deeply, and Arthur took the lead on saying, “We haven’t decided on a sure plan of action yet, but what it seems like we’ll be doing is getting the Ministry to raid the Manor. We won’t catch all the Death Eater’s housed there, but hopefully a good chunk, and surely Lucius Malfoy. Fudge has already been trying to figure out a way to pin down those names your friend gave him after the Fifth Task, but they're slippery. They’re men with connections, and Lucius Malfoy is at the head of them all. He won’t go down without a fight.”
But Harry wasn’t paying much attention, instead focusing on his godfather beside him, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “That doesn’t sound like a rescue mission to me.” He pointed out as Sirius avoided his gaze. “Why aren’t we going in to get Draco out?”
“That would be too risky, dear.” Molly explained, shaking her head. “The Death Eater’s would surely find means of tracking him, and we aren’t strong enough to take on a hoard yet.” Lupin nodded to her words, explaining, “We must move cautiously,” at Harry’s dark expression, he added, “Draco will be safe. Don’t worry.”
Harry wanted to retort with the fact that all he’d done for over a week now was worry, when the truth was written right in front of him in invisible ink the whole time, and this would have been solved a lot quicker if they had simply gone and retrieved him to begin with, but something else written in the letter was drawing more of his attention.
“What did he mean by ‘weapon?’”
In unison, everyone at the table seemed to exchange a quick glance, before Sirius answered, speaking very slowly, with the voice of someone who knew he was treading on eggshells.
“It’s a thing he didn't have last time, Harry.”
“When he was powerful before?”
“Yes.”
“But what kind of weapon? Something worse than the Avada Kedavra curse?”
Sirius swallowed and again exchanged a fleeting glance with Lupin and Molly leaned forwards at the table, eyes narrowed. “Sirius…”
“Yes, Harry, much worse. It’s something that’ll get him ahead of all of us.”
“Ahead? Even over Dumbledore?”
“Even Dumbledore.”
“But where is it?”
“Sirius! That’s quite enough of that!” Molly shrieked across the other end of the table as she looked sternly at him and the students at the table in turn. “I want you in bed, now. All of you,” she added as he gaze settled on the twins, who looked at eachother, throwing their hands up.
“You can’t boss us--”
“Watch me,” She snarled, rising from her seat and trembling slightly as her gaze shifted back to Sirius. “You’ve given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway.”
“Why not? I want to join, I want to fight--”
“No.” That was Lupin, startlingly enough, and before he could continue Harry had cut him off, picking up the letter and brandishing it.
“But that was just what Draco told me! I would have found out anyhow if I recognized invisible ink! I want to know what Voldemort’s up to I want--”
“All you need to know, Harry,” Lupin said sternly, leaning towards him with a cold look in his eyes. “Is that the Order is taking care of it all, and you don’t have to join it. It’s comprised only of over-age wizards. Wizards who have left school,” he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. “There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you… I think Molly’s right, Sirius. We’ve said enough.”
Sirius shrugged his shoulders and didn’t argue, so Molly beckoned her sons and Hermione upstairs, and one by one they stood and followed her over to the door, Harry following last, just as slumped as his godfather. Up, up, up they trekked the stairs, Hermione stepping off at the first landing to enter her room with Ginny, and Harry and Ron getting off at the second, Molly stopping too and gesturing Fred and George forward.
A small whistle cut through the air, and they looked up to see Tess leaning over the topmost railing in her nightdress, waving a square letter.
“Okay to send it?” She whispered and Molly nodded hurriedly, so the Dutch witch gave a thumbs up and whispered, “G’night” before disappearing.
“Alright, Ron, Harry,” Molly then said, turning to the teen boys and pushing them through their bedroom door. “Off to bed with you.”
They changed, lay on their beds, waited only minutes, before a familiar pop sounded and Fred and George were standing in front of them, grinning. It was then Harry realized that he probably wasn’t going to get any of that sweet sleep he craved that night, which was proven to be absolutely true even once the twins did leave as he tried in vain to wipe the worries from his mind, and ended up getting launched into a sea of nightmares of boys with platinum blonde hair and unimaginable weapons in Voldemort’s pale white hands.
-*-*-*-
Draco Malfoy almost wished the reason he couldn’t sleep was because of nightmares, though he knew it sort of was, at least in a figurative sense. Because the world he currently lived in was a nightmare, but not one filled with spiders or clowns or even the unknown horrors of the dark, but one no one could possibly dream up or imagine. The kind of nightmare you would think to find in a haunted mansion, not your own mansion, and certainly not your own bedroom, which has been your one safespace and untouchable heaven all your life.
It wasn’t even a nightmare of his own making, but that of the evil psychopath who was currently filling his home with screams and sobs. Blood and tears. With anything but what he remembered his Manor always being like.
And it had been his usual home at first, but after Loch Ness things changed, and not even his mother could provide comfort as soon as the doors opened and Barty Crouch Jr stepped forwards. Then all his father’s other friends followed, and though he used to be able to distract himself in his gardens with his ‘friends’ that wasn’t possible anymore. They could only pretend they were still the old tight-knit group of bullies they used to be for so long, before the glares Blaise gave Draco weren’t sly anymore, and the smiles Theodore forced onto his lips became nothing but grimaces or malicious smirks. Draco had become their victim to bully, and solidified his changing of sides when he saved Harry from the graveyard.
But they didn’t know the truth of what their parents were capable of. They hadn’t seen what he’d seen. He could only wish they’d come through, but didn’t have much hope for even Crabbe and Goyle at this point, who were the only two who had stuck by Draco’s sides, but still had wands begging to cast dark curses.
So maybe the bedroom prison had been Draco’s doing all along, as he had, deep down, wanted to start a fight. It was the only thing that would end all the tension and looks over his shoulder constantly, but he still thought locking him up here was overkill on his mother’s part, especially as he glimpsed the looks on Vince and Greg’s faces as they dragged him off.
But there was nothing he could do now. He had sent his letter to Harry. He had waited weeks for his response, and he had run to his door and pressed his ear to it to listen when a clear break-in happened below. But alas, the odds were never in his favor.
The Ministry wasn't there on a rescue mission, merely a capture.
He’d sent that letter to Harry asking for help, and he should have anticipated this was how Potter would overreact, but the horror and the betrayal that had filled his veins as he looked into his mother’s eyes, glistening with tears, and understood that they had taken away his father, had nearly out weighed any sense of reason when it came to his Gryffindor friend’s morality.
He’d taken his Dad away from him. The man who had been his one idol and mentor his entire life. Who made mistakes all the time but then again, didn’t they all? Potter certainly did. But how could he understand the ambiguity of father’s? He never had one of his own, did he? And even then, everyone was always talking about how great James Potter was…
He didn’t have to stand there in the darkness of his own room, kneeling on the cold wood floors and holding his sobbing mother, unable to cry himself because he felt so empty. Even Altais gave little comfort, which was incredibly unusual but hardly unexpected, because what comfort could be found in a time like this?
His Dad was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. So the next night, when Narcissa Malfoy fell to her knees and pleaded with her Dark Lord, and all Draco could do was sit quietly in his grandiose garden's flower beds, knees pulled to his chest, the smirk he sent towards Blaise, Theodore, Crabbe, and Goyle as they approached him cautiously, was a smirk of malice, sadistic glee, and every bit Slytherin. And it was the most genuine thing he’d ever produced all summer.
Any passerby might even mistake it for the same face of the bully Draco Malfoy was two years before, but that passerby wouldn’t know what was going on inside the boy's head, and that the smirk was genuine, but not towards his friends. It was the genuine smirk of a bully planning to betray other bullies, because when the world turns it’s back on you--as his self-preserving Slytherin father had told him long ago…
You turn your back on the world.