Harry Potter and the Order's Death Eater

After three weeks of leisurely traipsing the streets of Surrey it might have been stifling to be confined to the Burrow, and were Harry anywhere else it might have been. But at the Burrow Harry was at home, and he no longer felt the urgent need to leave and seek freedom elsewhere. There was freedom right at his fingertips, even if confined to the boundary of the properly.

Happy days slipped by, as easy and peaceful as Harry always remembered the Burrow being. Admittedly there wasn't much relaxation to be had - when they weren't doing chores they spent hours helping the twins pack mail orders, Fred and George still coming by two to three times a day refilling their stockpiles of merchandise or stopping in for lunch.

He spent most of his free time playing Quidditch with Ron and Ginny (Charlie always joined in when he was around), or else taking any opportunity to spend time alone with Ginny. It was rare to find time when Ron wasn't breathing down their necks or when they weren't under the watchful eyes of Mrs Weasley, but in a strange turn of events the presence of Bill and Fleur seemed to draw much of the attention away from them, the newly engaged couple perhaps deemed most at risk of premarital sex.

With Harry no longer needing his frequent visits for the sake of sanity Sirius had visited the Burrow only once, the evening of his first day when he received his OWL results.

'Knew you could turn it around,' he said proudly, practically beaming at his Potions marks. 'Your only issue with schoolwork is lack of interest, not lack of intelligence.'

By then it had really sunk in, and Harry couldn't help but smile. It was one thing to hear that the Weasley's were pleased with him, but it was different coming from Sirius, especially after all the work they had put in together over Easter to get him caught up.

'An O in Potions. I guess that means you're sticking with the Auror thing?'

Harry nodded. 'My application is in, can't back out now.'

'You can.'

The implication of this was a lot, because Sirius knew of the prophecy and what Harry intended to do with his life, that he was determined to fight Voldemort. And the suggestion behind his words was clear - running away to Iceland was still an option, at least in Sirius's mind.

Despite the celebratory occasion Sirius had not stayed long, politely declining Mrs Weasley's offer that he stay for dinner, even after Harry too implored him to stay.

'I really can't stay,' he apologised as Harry followed him to the front door.

'Why not? Where are you going?'

'I've got places to be. People to annoy.'

'People like Minister Bones?' he questioned. 'I saw you in today's Prophet, you were with her.'

'Yes, I was saving you the hassle. You're welcome for that, by the way. I really have to go,' he insisted, side stepping him. 'Thanks for the tea, Molly.'

Ever persistent he followed him out the front door. 'You can't stay for one hour?'

'I can't. I've got work to do for the Order.'

Not giving up that easily Harry kept pace with him across the garden, though it seemed Sirius was actively trying to lose him - he had to break into a jog. 'If you're this busy am I still coming to Grimmauld Place after my birthday?'

Sirius parted his lips, but he stopped himself short. 'Well, if-'

'You hesitated,' he angrily accused, lurching in front of him and making him come to a stop. 'Am I coming or not?'

For a moment Sirius seemed to close his eyes, perhaps taking a moment for patience. 'Yes,' he emphasised, looking Harry in the eye. 'Of course you are. But between now and then I have work to do for the Order. I really can't stay.'

He relented now. Sirius lingered a few moments more, repeating again that he was proud of him for his OWLs, and then he strode off to the boundary line and apparated away, giving him a wave goodbye. And as he watched his godfather go he selfishly thought he somewhat missed the days when Sirius was still wanted for murder and he could have him all to himself at Grimmauld Place.

This selfish thought passed quickly, and he supposed it just still felt strange that Sirius was at complete liberty to go where he pleased, that since his conviction was overturned he was free to help the Order with whatever they needed.

Still thinking on Ron's comments that Sirius and Mrs Weasley were not getting along, and having just observed firsthand how pleasant they seemed around one another, Harry instead turned his attention to finding out from her what was going on, but much like the Auror Binder she was proving a tough case to crack.

'Ron said something was going on with you two,' he asked after he'd been at the Burrow a few days. He was following her around the vegetable garden, having waited until he could corner her there. 'That you'd had two blow ups in a week.'

'Oh nonsense!' she waved him off, using her wand to pull a fresh bundle of carrots from the earth. 'Ronald doesn't know what he's talking about.'

He persisted nonetheless. 'You were fighting over me, weren't you?'

'Not fighting at all, dear.'

'We've heard you two go off before, it's not the first time. So...' Harry trailed off in exasperation. 'Mrs Weasley, are you even listening?'

She had her head down and was prowling among the cabbages, her wand drawn. 'Not really, no.'

'I know something's going on,' he persisted. 'Sirius was four hours late picking me up the other night. Are you rowing about that?'

She ignored his questions, and then a few moments later lunged at something and triumphantly stood up holding a garden gnome aloft who struggled and growled at her. 'Got him,' she declared. 'I knew this pesky fella was somewhere in here.'

She swung the gnome above her head, tossing him over the fence surrounding the vegetable garden and onto the lawn outside.

'Go on and fetch him dear. Toss him over the hedge with the rest of them.'

Recognising the effort to distract him he obeyed, and he hurriedly collected the thrashing gnome and hurled him over the hedge into the far field where he tottered away rather unsteadily. But undeterred he returned to the vegetable garden where Mrs Weasley remained.

'Were you fighting over me coming here?'

'No, not at all!'

'Then was it about -'

'Harry,' she sighed, turning around to face him as she wiped her hands on her gardening rag. 'You really are going to persist, aren't you?'

'Yes.'

'Well like I said, there's nothing at all for you to worry about. Sirius and I may not always get along,' she admitted, picking up the basket laden with carrots and potatoes. 'But we always manage to work together for the sake of you.'

'Okay, bu-'

'Your happiness is our only concern. Now go on, take this basket inside won't you? And I'll need all of this peeled right away.'

'All this?' he exclaimed, taking the heavy basket.

'Yes, all of it.'

Harry stared at the vegetables, his arms straining under their weight. 'You're just going to keep giving me stuff to do if I don't leave you alone.'

'Yes dear, I am,' she said warmly, smiling at him. 'Now off you go before I have you cutting onions.'

'And you're not going to tell me why you and Sirius are rowing?'

'We're not rowing dear, but I'm glad you understand.'

Knowing a lost cause when he saw it Harry gave up on questioning her, reporting back to Ron and Ginny with absolutely nothing worth sharing. Life at the Burrow carried on with almost perfect normality were it not for the small indicators of the disruption the world outside was experiencing. Charlie seemed to come and go without any particular schedule, and for all her claims of only working part time at Gringotts Fleur too seemed to be away from the Burrow as much as Bill and Charlie (not that this aroused any complaints from Ginny or Mrs Weasley). But at the very least whatever had occurred the other night to make half the Weasleys suddenly walk out on dinner seemed not to have occurred again, and everything seemed relatively calm.

On the whole information about the Order was not forthcoming. Despite efforts Harry had overheard only one conversation about the Order, but apparently one not deemed important enough for silencing charms. It was not quite four o'clock in the morning when he had gone downstairs for some water, and he stopped when he saw lights on and heard voices coming from the kitchen.

'Really it works for us,' Fred was insisting, his voice heavy. 'I can do the watch and the books at the same time.'

'You're doing the bookkeeping?' came an exclamation from Bill. 'No wonder mum keeps having to fix things - you can't add two and two to save your life.'

'George wants to share the book keeping,' Fred complained. 'It's not my fault he's the brains and I'm the pretty one.'

'If he lets you anywhere near the book keeping he's clearly not the brains.'

'I can take the watch shift. We took the same oath that you did. The shop can wait, even if it is for that slimly li-'

'Would you shut it,' Bill said quickly, hushing his voice. 'You know the walls around here have ears.'

'I'm sorry,' Fred implored, giving a deep sigh. 'I'm just tired, I-'

'Which is why you shouldn't be taking that shift.' Bill's voice lowered again, and Harry crept a further steps down, trying to hear. 'You have to be at your best for the Order. Things have been going from fine to shit in seconds. Lives are at stake.'

'It's been quiet for days now.'

'That's what we thought before too. You're not taking that shift,' he decided. 'It's not worth risking your life, especially not for him. I'll sort it out with Kingsley.'

Harry lingered a little longer, waiting for hoping for more information, but the conversation didn't veer back towards the Order beyond Fred's reluctant agreement and Bill's order that he get some decent sleep. With nothing more to gain Harry had crept back upstairs and immediately roused Ron who groggily listened as he recounted what he had just heard.

'They're protecting someone.'

'You'll be a brilliant Auror,' Ron muttered, rubbing his eyes. 'Of course they're protecting someone - you.'

'No, not me,' he implored. 'Bill said it's gone to shit before. Whatever it - whoever it is, it sounds dangerous. Bill won't let Fred take a shift, says he's too tired.'

'Well who is it then?'

'I didn't hear that bit you dolt. They didn't say his name.'

'But you know it's a bloke?'

'I'm pretty sure Bill said he.'

Intrigued by this tidbit of information Ron properly roused himself and sat up. He blearily hugged his knees and gave a long sigh. 'Could be Scrimgeour.'

'Why would Scrimgour need the Order's protection?'

'Dad reckons he's tipped to be the next Minister. They're voting on it soon.'

'Scrimgeour doesn't need protection, he's an Auror.'

'Could be Sirius.'

At this Harry's heart faltered. 'Sirius?'

'Maybe his cousin's tryin' to finish the job. Maybe that's why he's not visiting you much, he's trying to protect you from himself. The Death Eaters do hate a defector.'

'Sirius was never one of them, he didn't defect.'

'Still, he rejected them. I'm sure they'd love to finish him off, especially if Lestrange is as nutty as everyone says she is.'

'No,' he muttered, rationalising it in his head. 'It's not, Sirius. He's not important enough for this kind of protection,' he muttered. 'Not to the Order.'

'Come on, he's the Order's poster boy! He's out at the Ministry every single day, rubbing shoulders with people. He's important.'

'Not enough to be under dedicated protection. Who else?'

'You,' Ron said again. Apparently losing interest he lay back down and turned onto his stomach.

'Not me,' Harry said impatiently. 'Bill said things had gone to shit before.'

'Just because we don't know what's going on doesn't mean things aren't going to shit. Death Eaters could have tried nabbing you a dozen times and we'd never know.'

Annoyingly enough this made sense. If an attack on him had been thwarted it was entirely possible he might not know anything about it. He stared at Ron through the darkness, wishing he would pay attention. 'Bill said he wasn't worth Fred risking his life.'

'Then it's not you,' Ron mumbled into his pillow. 'For some reason you've grown on us.'

'What abou-'

'Can I go back to sleep? It's still dark outside.'

Rather annoyed with Ron he reluctantly returned to his bed where he lay awake until dawn, and it wasn't until late the next morning he got the chance to repeat it all for Ginny who was at least fully awake and more than eager to talk about something interesting.

'What about Slughorn?' she pondered. She pummelled the mound of bread dough she was kneading, folding it over on itself. 'The Death Eaters are after him, and we know he's important to Dumbledore.'

'Maybe,' Harry pondered. 'But if he needed protection he could go straight to Hogwarts now, some of the teachers stay over summer.'

'Could be Lupin,' she whispered. 'If he's back with the Werewolves that's pretty dangerous. There was a Werewolf attack last full moon. A little boy died.'

'Remus is worth extra protection,' Harry agreed. 'Especially if he's in with the werewolves again. Could be Hagrid,' he wondered out loud. 'He could be working on the giants still.' But now trailed off with a sigh, seeing the flaw. 'No, Bill said he wasn't worth Fred risking his life. It's someone they don't like. Fred called him slimy.'

'Snape,' Ginny suggested. 'He's a slimy git, and definitely not worth Fred's life.'

Harry nodded in agreement. 'He's on the outs with Voldemort, he's probably trying to do him in. No great loss there.'

With a great heaving sigh Ron set a fresh loaf of bread straight from the oven onto the table. 'Have either of you stopped to ask why we need all this food?'

'Because you won't stop eating,' Ginny retorted.

'There are a lot of us here,' Harry said. 'And she's right, you had thirds last night.'

'You're both wrong,' Ron declared, lowering his voice and leaning in. 'I bet you anything it's for him.'

'Who?'

'Him! The him we're all protecting. If someone's under Order protection they can't exactly nip out to the shops now, can they? I bet you anything we're feeding him.'

'One person doesn't need all this,' Ginny argued, gesturing to what would total five loaves of bread.

'Think about it,' Ron insisted, his eyes bulging a little. 'There's at least one person under protection, and a whole roster of people looking after them. Someone's gotta feed them all!'

Harry stared at him, suddenly feeling like a light switched on inside his head. 'It's so strange when you're the one talking sense.'

'Well I'm not a complete idiot,' he stressed, wincing when he touched the top of the loaf he'd taken from the oven. 'I do have my...'

Ron trailed off, all three of them hurriedly shutting up when they heard footsteps coming. Through the kitchen door entered Mrs Weasley, and Fleur, with Charlie close behind them levitating the enormous pumpkin the whole family had been admiring for weeks, finally plucked from the vine. Mrs Weasley looked rather frazzled, and when she offered Fleur tea she had an air of hope that her future daughter-in-law might decline.

'Tea 'vould be lovely,' Fleur beamed, not quite getting the hint. 'Eet was surprising to me how much 'zee British enjoy tea at any time of ze day.'

Ginny spoke up. 'Mum, why do we need all this food?'

'Well there's lots of us dear,' she said shortly, setting out a tray and putting two tea cups on it. 'And there's an Order meeting tonight.'

'Must be a big one for five loaves of bread.'

'We've got to keep the twins fully stocked.'

'They eat lunch and dinner here.'

Mrs Weasley turned around, and they all recognised the look in her eyes. 'If kneading dough is too much to ask perhaps you'd like to start cutting up the pumpkin for dinner, I was thinking we'd have soup.'

'How many barrels are we making?' Harry muttered.

'Sounds to me like you're volunteering,' said pointedly before gesturing to the second pumpkin Charlie was levitating in through the kitchen door. 'Go on then. Peeled and diced please, little squares.'

'All that?'

'Yes, go on.'

Harry held his tongue, pulling the semi mixed dough off his hands and leaving it for Ginny to finish. As soon as Mrs Weasley and Fleur had gone into the living room with their tray of tea he muttered 'What happened to her thinking the sun shines out of my arse?'

'You started asking questions,' Ron said knowingly.

They largely kept their heads down after that, frustrated that the remainder of their day was spent in the kitchen. But as soon as he was confident Mrs Weasley wasn't watching Harry took matters into his own hands, employing wandless magic to help him cut through the enormous pumpkins.

'It's so cool that you can do that,' Ron said enviously, taking up the smaller pieces and cutting them up again. 'Merlin, what I wouldn't give to be able to do that.'

At this Harry held his tongue. He had only developed this ability thanks to Lucius Malfoy's relentless attacks on him, a desperate situation in which his magic had just taken over. 'Can hardly do anything with it,' he muttered. 'It's easier with a wand.'

Mr Weasley was home late that afternoon, arriving just in time for them to start dinner (an enormous pot of pumpkin soup as predicted) with Fred and George in tow who looked haggard. Three bowls soared over to the stove where a ladle began to serve out generous helpings, and Mrs Weasley kissed her husband on the cheek before turning to her sons.

'What's wrong with you two?' she demanded, looking between the twins.

'Our Acromantula guy says he won't get us anymore venom. Too dangerous, apparently.'

'He just wants more money. The real problem is the Ministry,' Georgie scowled, looking at his twin. 'Someone let them order nine hundred invisible hats.'

'I did triple the price,' Fred argued, sinking down into a chair. 'Thought they'd turn it down, but they've paid a deposit.'

'You tripled the price?' Ron exclaimed, dropping his spoon. 'You genius!'

'Sure, but now they want some extra features to justify it,' Fred moaned. 'Different styles - caps, some wide brim, bowlers...'

'How are we going to make nine hundred invisible hats?' George complained. 'We can barely keep up with the orders we've got!'

'I can offer asseestance,' Fleur spoke up. 'I am very good with ze customers at Gringotts.'

'Thanks, we could use help out the front,' Fred said gratefully. With a heavy sigh he picked up his spoon and looked into his bowl. 'Problem is we don't need to attract customers, we need to get rid of a few. Oi Ron...want a job working out front?'

'Ha ha,' Ron sneered, throwing a knob of butter at him. 'Will you pay me?'

'Maybe a few knuts. We'll give you a paid job too Ginny, once you've turned fifteen.'

'But until then you'll just keep exploiting me for free labour?'

'That's what brothers do.'

'I'm not doing customer service,' Ron said loudly. 'People are gobshites, I'm not talking to them.'

'Takes one to know one.'

'And I want back pay,' Ron decided. 'Back pay, or I unionise.'

'You can't unionise with yourself.'

'Harry will join me.'

'Don't bring me into this.'

Despite their troubles Mrs Weasley was beaming at the twins as she fussed over them. 'You'll figure something out,' she reassured them, buttering a slice of bread for George who seemed too tired to lift his own spoon. 'Though with the galleons you're raking in it's well overdue that you start paying your siblings something for their efforts.'

Dinner carried on, Ron now determined to negotiate a favourable hourly rate while Ginny too threatened to unionise against her brothers. When Mrs Weasley put them all to work tidying up from dinner Harry noticed that Charlie had quietly departed without saying goodbye. But like the rest of them his hand on the clock remained pointed to mortal peril.

'I'm not washing up,' Ron decided. 'Harry, go on mate. Be a friend.'

'Yes, I will wash,' he said wearily, knowing Ron hated it. 'Hurry up then, get me the dishes.'

Ron and Ginny got to work, Ron clearing the table while Ginny dispensed the left over soup into various bowls and containers, Mrs Weasley helping and directing her. Their earlier suspicions were correct, there was indeed a lot of food - more than they and the twins could eat.

'Where's Fleur?' Ginny asked loudly before lowering her voice to her mum. 'Maybe she could help clean up, she did eat after all.'

'Fleur's gone out.'

'Out where?'

'She's got work to do for the Order. '

'Doing what?'

'None of your business.'

'She's got work tomorrow,' Ginny added, sounding strangely concerned.

'Yes dear, she does.'

'Isn't there an Order meeting tonight?' Harry questioned next.

Mrs Weasley gave an exasperated sigh. 'Yes dear, there is.'

Harry, Ron and Ginny exchanged a glance, each wondering where Fleur and Charlie had gone, conscious that Bill had not been home in two days but that none of the adults seemed surprised. It seemed all three of them were out working for the Order.

'Harry, before you start the washing up,' Mr Weasley interrupted. 'Might we have a word out in the shed?'

Immediately his mind jumped. 'Ginny was only joking about getting into my trousers - even Mrs Weasley laughed!'

Mr Weasley blinked. 'It's not about that, though I will be sure to ask Molly for some context.'

Harry glanced around, realising no one else had noticed their conversation. 'We were talking about hand-me downs. School uniforms.'

'It's quite alright. Join me, won't you?'

Leaving behind the sink of soapy water he reluctantly followed Mr Weasley outside, hearing Ron's complaints as soon as he realised he would have to do the washing up after all. Wishing he could stay in there he followed Mr Weasley out across the garden and towards his shed. Judging by their last conversation in here there was nothing good coming from this - a suspicion that was soon proven correct, but worse.

'Amos Diggory stopped by my office today,' Mr Weasley began once they were inside. 'He correctly deduced that I would be in contact with you.'

Instantly Harry felt his heart seize up for a moment. It was like a giant spotlight was suddenly shining on him. When he said nothing in reply Mr Weasley continued.

'Mr Diggory told me that he sent you some letters, but you haven't replied. He wanted to make sure that you're alright.'

Harry faltered, put on the spot. What was he supposed to say to that?

'Okay.'

'You've received his letters?'

Now he was really on the spot, and his stomach was squirming. He could hardly look Mr Weasley in the eye. 'Yes.'

The atmosphere became distinctly uncomfortable now, but though he longed to leave Harry knew he couldn't. Mr Weasley had more to say.

'Mr Diggory is quite anxious to reach you. He and Cedric's mother are planning to give an interview with Witch Weekly, to commemorate his birthday in September. To share his life and his story.'

This was little surprise. He'd heard talk of one last year at Hogwarts, idle gossip usually tinged with the suggestion that it would be a tell all type interview...one that might not reflect well on Harry.

'Okay,' he forced himself to say, getting the feeling that Mr Weasley was waiting for him to speak.

Mr Weasley paused a moment, cleared his throat before continuing. 'Because they've not heard from you they want to know for sure that you don't wish to participate.'

Harry looked up. 'That's what they want?'

Mr Weasley held his gaze. 'You've not read their letters?'

Everything inside of him seemed to have stopped. His heart was stalled inside of his chest, lungs frozen in place and beginning to burn. Even his mind seemed to struggle, failing to comprehend where this conversation had gone. Of all the things he thought Mr Weasley would want to talk to him about...

The Diggorys wanted him to join an interview?

'No.'

Mr Weasley seemed hesitant now, but he pressed on. 'The Diggorys won't proceed until they hear back from you. They want you to participate alongside them.'

'Why would I do that?'

'To tell your story.'

'I've already done that,' he said quickly. 'More than once.'

'I suppose it would be more accurate to say that you would be telling Cedric's story. The interview would be about him.' A long pause followed this statement, and when Harry did not speak Mr Weasley continued. 'Fleur and Victor Krum have also been invited to participate, to share about their friendship with Cedric. However, it's my understanding that they are waiting your response first.'

'They can do whatever they want.'

'As fellow Champions I think they are awaiting your decision.'

Anger seared through him at this word. Champion. He utterly despised it. He was not a champion. He was not a genuine participant in the Tri-Wizard but rather a pawn being led to his own death, and at this mere suggestion he wanted to tell Mr Weasley to shut up. To mind his own business and leave him alone.

'You might find it helpful to sha-'

'Nothing to do with Cedric is helpful,' he said sharply.

'At the very least, it ma-'

'What do they want to hear from me?' he demanded. 'That I convinced Cedric to take the cup with me? Am I supposed to say that to their faces?'

Mr Weasley raised his hand, clenching it anxiously as if to stop himself from physically reaching out. He looked highly regretful. 'Harry, you did nothing wrong.'

'I know that!' he said loudly, and then he couldn't stop himself. 'I didn't kill him, I know - but I'm the one who brought him there! He wouldn't have been anywhere near Voldemort if I had just taken the Cup alone.'

'Yes, I understand that you might feel that way,' Mr Weasley stammered, his words hastening. 'But no one blames you. Certainly not the Diggorys.'

'Well I blame me!' The admission seemed to tear at his very throat, a healing wound ripped anew. 'I don't care what anyone else says, it doesn't make a difference. And I sure as hell don't need to hear it from his parents!'

It felt like he was hanging on by only his fingertips, his grip slipping one by one. Without giving another thought he stormed past Mr Weasley and made for the door. The anger was dissipating as quickly as it had swelled, and with every heavy footstep he felt it replaced by an aching grief he had not allowed himself to feel for a long time. It began to rise within him, pushing everything else aside, a warning that he would be consumed all over again if he didn't push it back down.

'Harry, wait,' Mr Weasley called out to him. 'Wait one more moment. Please.'

It didn't feel like this was an order he would be punished for ignoring. His hand was on the doorknob. It was twisted already and only a simple push of the door remained. But he stopped. Perhaps beneath everything that had just been said, beneath the swell of emotion and the sense of control he was losing, Harry knew that Mr Weasley deserved to be heard out.

'Harry. Let me say my last, and that will be the end of it. I'll not bring up Cedric or his parents again, I promise you.'

When he let go of the doorknob he found his hand trembling, and he quickly shoved them both into his pockets before turning around. Mr Weasley was grimacing, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he collected his thoughts, and in that moment he seemed oddly helpless. It was startling to see, and it was the kind of thing that made Harry avert his eyes. He had felt that sense of helplessness from Mr Weasley before, the night he came back rom Malfoy Manor. That night it was Mr Weasley shielding him from all the commotion, protecting him from Barty Crouch and escorting him upstairs to Dumbledore's office. For a split second it felt like that horrible night all over again.

'If you've got something to say...'

Mr Weasley nodded, lowering his hand from his mouth.

'Self blame aside, I worry that you may have regrets where it concerns Cedric.' His voice was whisper quiet, as if it would make his words easier to receive. 'If not for your own sake then for mine, read the letters the Diggorys wrote to you. See what they have to say.'

'I do-'

'And if your answer is still no,' Mr Weasley continued, intentionally cutting him off. 'I will tell the Diggorys on your behalf, and we'll never have to discuss it again.'

Harry threw the shed door open and left, letting it clatter shut behind him as he stormed across the garden. As he walked he took deep, heaving breaths, the kind that felt he was physically stuffing everything back down inside of himself before it could truly spill out, a mess that couldn't be cleaned up.

For now he did not return to the Burrow, instead seeking refuge in the darkness where the light from inside would not illuminate him. The summer evening was cooler than normal, yet another reminder of the world beyond the protective barriers, the dementors that were breeding and the dark forces at work. But tonight he relished the chill, letting it cool his searing lungs as he tried not to bend over double.

It wasn't like the other times. Not entirely at least. His heart was racing out of his chest, but his thoughts were clear and focused, lacking the sense of frantic urgency that had overwhelmed him at other times. This time there was a reason he couldn't breathe, a reason his hands were shaking...Mr Weasley had ambushed him about a subject he had no right bringing up.

As had Mr Diggory. If he couldn't take a hint from Harry's lack of reply he had no right at all sending Mr Weasley to do his bidding.

As quickly as he could manage he pulled himself together. The Order were on watch twenty four seven - there was probably someone watching him this very moment, reporting back to someone that he was upset but safe. The sound of the shed door opening was the inciting factor, for he didn't want Mr Weasley to come looking for him outside. Walking quickly so as to avoid Mr Weasley he rounded back the way he had come and returned through the kitchen door.

Ron gave a relieved shout upon seeing him, immediately tossing him a sponge and vacating the sink, and Harry happily resumed the menial task. Though the atmosphere was as warm and cheerful as ever he could tell the others knew something was off, that Ron and Ginny were watching him from the corner of their eyes wondering why he had been taken out for a private discussion. When Mr Weasley returned he caught his reflection in the kitchen window, seeing the moment he and Mrs Weasley exchanged a loaded glance. She too obviously knew what was going on.

'We're off then,' Mr Weasley declared a short while later, putting on his robes. Behind him the twins carried a large pot of pumpkin soup and three loaves of bread that would feed the Order at tonight's meeting.

'Good night,' Mrs Weasley said, seeing them off to the fireplace. 'Do you think you'll be back then?' she asked, having lowered her voice a little.

In the kitchen Harry and the others paused, listening in interest.

'Yes, I'd say so,' Mr Weasley answered, his voice somewhat obscured by Fred's instructions that the fireplace take him to Grimmauld Place. 'I don't think there's to be any further debate. We all agree it's not for us to decide.'

'But you'll-'

'Number twelve -' Georgie said next, the sound of floo powder scattering in the hearth.

'Of course...'

'- Grimmauld Place, London.'

'...he'll be able to have his say.'

Little more was said, Mr Weasley following the twins into the fireplace with the same instructions for where to go, and then he was gone. Harry, Ron and Ginny all shared a glance with one another, each of them having overheard the brief conversation that admittedly gave them zero insight into the going ons of the Order. What little they had said could be referring to anyone.

That night as soon as he felt he could he thanks Mrs Weasley for dinner and then retreated upstairs. His head was full, the subject of Mr and Mrs Diggory lingering on his chest, and the last thing he wanted was to be around his friends. Knowing full well that any minute they would be following him Harry all but fled upstairs to get what little solitude he could.