Harry Potter and the Order's Death Eater

Having retreated to the solitude of Ron's room Harry stayed there, planning a long lie in for the following morning so as to avoid Mr Weasley. Finally alone he tossed his glasses onto the bedside table and collapsed onto his bed. With his face buried in his pillow he closed his eyes and trying to rest his mind - and how ironic was it that in moments like this he resorted back to Occlumency of all things?

Determined to rid himself of any thought of the Diggorys he concentrated, following the lessons Snape had taught him to clear his mind. Inside his head he played out old DA lessons, thinking over how the members' skills had grown in a few short months, how more prepared that were to face danger if it crossed them. Mentally he mapped out future lessons, trying to plan how they'd manage to fit it around classes and and various house Quidditch schedules. Katie was in the DA and presumably Gryffindor's next captain, he would need her help to schedule the two activities around one another - same with the other Quidditch captains. Worst case scenario they'd hold multiple DA meetings each week, just like at the end of last term.

His efforts paid off for a short while. With his intense efforts he focused on something that made him feel good...powerful, even. And just like it did in Occlumency lessons with Snape his head began to clear, the weight of guilt lifting just enough that it didn't feel all encompassing. Snape would be proud of me, he thought bitterly.

It wasn't long before Ron and Ginny came up, and he heard them arguing from two floors below. Opening his eyes he looked at his Firebolt propped up in the corner along with Ron's Cleansweep, resisting the impulse to avoid having to deal with the siblings by leaping out the window and onto his broomstick. He wouldn't go anywhere, that would give Mrs Weasley a heart attack, but he could avoid dealing with whatever Ron and Ginny were arguing about.

'What did Dad want?' Ginny asked the moment she stepped into the room, not even knocking.

'Oi! I told you to leave 'im alone!' Ron demanded, bursting in behind her and panting for breath.

It quickly became apparent that the two of them had sprinted upstairs, a violent race judging by the way Ginny was rubbing her elbow and Ron was clutching his side.

He should have jumped out the window.

'What are you talking about?' he asked dimly, not even lifting his head from the pillow.

'Dad,' Ginny pressed. 'What did he want?'

'Ignore her, Harry!'

'What's your problem?' she demanded rudely. 'I can't ask him a simple question?'

'He doesn't have to answer anything.'

'I'm not waterboarding him, I'm just asking!'

The bed jostled when she sat down on the side, and then jostled again when Ron appeared to wrestle her away. There was a thud and a yelp, and then the squabbling began again, forcing Harry to sit up. Most other times he would have burst out laughing at the sight of them, Ron's long gangly arms wrestling with Ginny, her hand slipping out of his grip and smacking him across the face, but tonight he didn't have the patience for their antics.

'What do you want?'

'What did Dad talk to you about?' Ginny repeated, grimacing when she found her arms tangled and properly subdued. She glared at Ron as she tried to wrench herself free. 'Was it about the Order?'

'You dolt!' Ron rolled his eyes, releasing her from his grip. 'You could have just said you were asking him about the Order.'

'I don't have to explain myself to you,' she snarled, shaking her arms out as she defiantly resumed her place on the edge of Harry's bed. 'Why d'you even care what I was going to ask him anyway?'

Ron dithered on the spot, glancing at Harry. 'I thought they were talking about something else.'

'Like what?'

'Like none of your business!'

'Harry?' Ginny asked, turning back to him. She seemed to take pause now, seeing that he wasn't in any mood for having them squabbling. 'What did Dad want?'

He cast his eyes between both of them, wondering if he should tell the truth. But he knew what would happen then. They would want to talk about it, Ron would have solutions and ideas. Ginny would be sympathetic and encouraging. And he couldn't stand dealing with any of that...not that he got the chance to avoid it.

'Was it the Diggorys?' Ron asked.

Harry's heart lurched, and he couldn't hide the look on his face. 'How do you know?'

'I was guessing, but you just confirmed it.'

Seething at the both of them Harry got to his feet. 'It's none of your business. I'm going to bed.' Knowing exactly how to rid the room of at least one of them he grabbed his pyjamas and then reached to take off his teeshirt, and with that Ron gave a gruff yell.

'Right. You - out!' he ordered his sister, pointing at the door.

'Wha - he's jus-'

'Get out, or I'm telling mum.'

'Ron, you really are a royal knob head, you know that?'

There was a scuffle from behind him, and Harry turned to see not that Ron was forcing his sister out of the room, but that she was dragging him with her. Ron protested at first, but a few muttered words convinced him to follow her, and when the door loudly closed Harry could hear their hurried whispers.

'If he doesn't want to talk about it you can't force him.'

Ron gave a smug laugh. 'Says she who came storming up here.'

'He said no, so leave him alone. Especially about Cedric.'

'You don't understand about blokes, alright?'

'I understand about Harry.'

'We've got our own ways, 'right? Just bugger off and leave us alone.'

There was another brief scuffle, Ron hurriedly slipping in and slamming the door shut before Ginny could follow. From the other side of the door she yelled out a rude expletive that apparently echoed all the way downstairs, for moments later it was followed by an admonishment from Mrs Weasley.

'Thanks for that, Ron.'

'You're welcome,' he answered, missing the sarcasm. 'Now she's gone you can tell me.'

'Tell you what?'

'What did Dad say about the Diggorys?'

Narrowing his eyes Harry turned away again and continued changing into his pyjamas. 'Ginny's right, you are a royal knob head.'

'So was i-'

'Shut up, Ron.'

At this Ron slumped onto his bed and picked up one of his Marvin the Mad Muggle comics. 'Guess Hermione was right.'

Against his better judgement he whirled back again. 'What's Hermione got to do with this?'

'She called on the telephone.'

'When?'

'This morning. You and Ginny were thrashing around snogging, forgive me for not chasing you down.'

'So the two of you just had a good long chat behind my back did you?'

'Didn't intend it like that, but yeah, kind of.'

'Well all three of you can mind your own business,' he snarled. Properly furious now he wrenched back the covers and got into bed.

'You really turning in?'

'Yes.'

'Oh.'

Harry lay there, seething. It was pretty early for him, and he lay awake staring at the bright orange wall, pointedly facing away from Ron. He had expected the Dursleys to be the ones ruining his summer not the Diggorys, and certainly not Mr Weasley who decided it was a good idea to ambush him.

He had just got the Diggorys out of his head, and now Ron had ruined it.

His stomach churned. There was no simply getting over the way he felt - the truth that had he not tried to do the right thing by sharing the win with Cedric he'd be alive. He'd have finished his NEWTs last year and would be...well, frankly Harry didn't know what he would be doing now were he still alive. Beyond that he played Quidditch and what he knew of him from the Tri-Wizard Tournament he didn't know anything about Cedric. And he never would.

A few minutes passed, and he listened to Ron turning the pages of his comic. Despite his frustration with them all he couldn't help but feel bad, especially about Ginny. She at least understood the guilt he still carried. Even though she'd been proven innocent from the harm that came to those petrified by the Basilisk she still felt guilty for the whole thing - she had told him so herself. Guilty that she hadn't understood what was happening, that she kept going back to the diary even though something inside of her knew it was bad. That she hadn't been brave enough to ask for help.

'It wasn't your fault though...none of that was. You didn't know what was happening.'

'I did know. Eventually I did, anyway.'

'But you couldn't control it. There's no way you could have resisted Voldemort. No one could have.'

'I know,' she agreed. 'I still feel guilty though. I think I always will.'

But she shouldn't, that was the problem - she shouldn't feel guilty, none of it was her fault. It seemed according to Ginny he was going to feel this way forever. And with another mental sigh he thought of another person who he knew must carry senseless self blame - Sirius. That he blamed himself for not seeing Pettigrew's betrayal coming was obvious. He felt guilty for James and Lily's deaths, for losing his mind and abandoning Harry for his entire childhood...

Was this just how things would always be? Rationally he knew those people shouldn't feel that guilt, that it wasn't anything they had done that caused such terrible consequences. Only one thing was becoming clear to him - it was far easier to try and alleviate someone else's guilt than it was to free himself of his own.

'Harry?'

'What?' he questioned, his tone warning.

'D'you think Hermione really snogged Krum?'

The question was completely out of the blue, and it made his eyes snap open. He knew the agony it must have taken for Ron to voice this question. The honest answer was yes, but he did not want to give it. However Ron seemed to gather the worst from his silence, for he heard him make a low sound in the back of his throat.

This was also not a conversation that he particularly wanted to have. But tonight he clung to the topic, glad for it. He needed something to push away everything else going on in his head.

He rolled over onto his back, but he didn't look at Ron. Instead he picked up a Quidditch magazine and flicked through it, wanting something to occupy his hands. 'You know...' he began, hoping he didn't regret this. 'If you fancy her you better get a move on. You're not the only bloke who does.'

Ron blustered, seemingly quite embarrassed. 'What? I don't,' he blustered, making quite a show of turning the pages and fixing his face into an expression of disinterest. 'Don't know why you'd...'

An awkward silence settled now, and Harry watched Ron from the corner of his eye. It was delicate territory here, for over the last year or so the strange and odd notion that Ron liked Hermione was increasingly apparent, though he tried not to think about it very much.

There was the genuine and not unfounded fear that if something went wrong between Ron and Hermione their friendship would never recover. And if the three of them were no longer friends...it didn't bear thinking about. They'd been through that at various times, two of them rowing and leaving the other as the awkward go-between...the thought of that being permanent gnawed at him sometimes.

'Who else fancies her?'

'You know McClaggen?'

'That little twerp? In the year below us?'

'Yep. Him.'

'How d'you know that?'

'I hear things.'

'Where?'

'Ginny told me,' he admitted. 'McClaggen's in Arithmancy study group with Hermione, he's fancied her for ages.'

'What else does Ginny tell you?'

Harry shrugged, realising he had probably violated some unspoken code about not passing on the gossip one learned from their girlfriend. Another long silence passed, and though the pages of Harry's magazine turned several times Ron's comic did not. And then finally...

'Do you think maybe Hermione fancies me? Like...even a little bit?'

Harry kept his tone carefully measured. 'I don't know,' he said honestly. 'I could ask her.'

Ron's reaction was enormous. 'Don't you dare!' he bellowed, practically leaping up from his bed. 'I will disembowel you!'

Harry didn't look up. 'I could ask Ginny.'

Ron stared at him, half crouched on his bed and looking ready to punch him in the face. Slowly he lowered himself back to his bed, picking up the comic that had fallen to the floor. There was silence around the room as he let out a slow breath to collect himself, and above them they could hear the Ghoul moving around, his peaceful evening disturbed.

'So?' Harry prompted. 'Should I ask Ginny or not?'

From the corner of his eye he watched Ron struggling with the thought. 'Yeah, go on,' he said lightly. 'But don't tell her why you're asking,' he added urgently. 'And definitely don't tell her tha-'

'I know how to be subtle, Ron.'

'Right, well...just making sure. Don't want to...you know.'

Resigned to asking the question Harry told himself to just get it over with. He knew Ginny well enough that she would take the mickey out of her brother, but if he asked her not to she would never breathe a word about what Ron had asked.

'So, did Sirius give you the talk then?'

Harry laughed. 'Yes. I wasn't allowed here until he did, otherwise your dad was going to do it.'

'Well thanks for sticking by your mates,' Ron complained. 'I had to do it alone. There were diagrams Harry...diagrams.'

He pressed his lips together, but he couldn't help himself. 'What kind of diagrams?'

Having laid back down into bed Ron lifted his head and looked over at him. 'You first. What did Sirius tell you?'

Harry stared at his magazine, not looking up even once. 'To be a gentleman. You?'

'No shagging before marriage. Your turn.'

'Come on, I asked first.'

Ron groaned and then lay back down. 'If we're going to talk about this I'm not looking at you. Not when I know you're dating my sister.'

Tossing his comic book aside he turned out the light, and Harry was grateful. 'What were the diagrams?'

'Just give me a minute, alright? I've already suppressed the memories...'

Ron began recounting everything he had learned, awkwardly and uncomfortably at first, until Harry began filling the gaps with what he had learned from Sirius.

'I got revenge on Dad,' Ron mischievously laughed a little while later. 'Started telling him all the things we heard from Seamus. He was so embarrassed he stopped asking if I had any questions. D'you know, apparently a witch can get pregnant any time you have a shag. And if any of the...you know, gets near her - down there...she can get pregnant then too.'

'Rubbish,' Harry challenged. 'Even if you didn't actually shag?'

'Yeah, if it just gets near. Apparently that's how they got Percy.'

'That explains him then.'

Ron snorted, dissolving into a fit of laughter.

'Was your dad being serious?' Harry pressed. 'He wasn't just pulling your leg to scare you?'

'He swore it was true.'

'Sirius didn't tell me that.'

'What did he tell you?'

'How to do the charm.'

'Dad told me the charm too, was adamant just get it over and done with before you start otherwise you'll probably forget. What else did Sirius tell you?'

'To be a gentleman and do hers.'

'Hers?'

'Do the charm for her too.'

'Why though?'

'To...to be a gentleman.'

'But why would you have to do it for her?'

Though he could hardly see through the dark Harry propped himself up on his elbow. 'Sirius said you have to do it twice. Once on each of you.'

'What?' Ron frowned, he too sitting up in bed. 'Well Dad didn't tell me that!'

'Is that how he ended up having seven kids?'

'Probably. What else did Sirius tell you?'

'That...basically, just make sure she really wants to, and...and don't expect much at first.'

'Don't expect much?'

'Well, like...no one is going to know what they're doing.'

Ron snorted and lay back down. 'Speak for yourself. I've got it figured.'

'Well, so do I, but it's not like riding a broomstick, right? You don't just know how to shag.'

'Some of us had to learn how to ride a broomstick, mate! Not all of us just get on and then outfly Malfoy our very first time.'

'That's what I'm saying! I think...' He trailed off with a sigh, thoroughly confused. 'How long do you think it lasts?

'Shagging?'

Harry flustered. 'The charm! How long does the charm last?'

'I dunno. It just does I suppose.'

'Again, that's how you end up with seven kids.'

Ron shuddered, makes a noise in the back of his throat. 'I dunno about you mate, but seven kids is seven too many. This whole shagging business might not be worth it.'

There was a slight pause before they both started laughing, because they knew that despite the questions and uncertainties and the pressure of it all...it had to be worth it. Their laughter lightened the mood somewhat, and Harry too lay back down and began to relax.

'How do you know the charm worked?' he wondered out loud. 'Sirius didn't say how you know it worked, he just told me how to do it.'

'Have you tried it?'

'No,' he said emphatically. 'I'm not trying a new charm on myself, I'm not stupid.'

'Wha...well how are you supposed to know how to do it?'

'I don't know.'

'You didn't ask?'

'No! I was busy drowning myself in my drink.'

'He brought you a drink? Like, a beer?'

'A Muggle beer. It wasn't anything great...'

'You know who we could ask? About the charm.'

'Who?'

'Fred and George.'

'No way.'

'Hear me out. If you ask they won't take the mickey.'

'I'm dating their sister, they'll beat me up!'

'No, they won't. Not Bank of Harry. You can ask them anything.'

'Not about shagging, are you mental? They're your brothers, you ask them.'

'They're your brothers too, pretty much. And they like you better than me. What about...Bill and Charlie?'

Harry went silent, thinking over that suggestion. 'That's actually not a bad idea. But I'm not asking them.'

'I'll ask, but you have to come with me.'

'No. Dating their sister.'

'If you don't come with me I can't guarantee that I'll tell you anything. In fact, I won't tell you anything. I don't want you knowing these things.'

Harry sighed in exasperation, but he knew exactly what to say. 'Just to be clear, it's your sister who needs me to know how this works.'

And on that note the conversation came to an abrupt end, Harry forced to trust that Ron would fill him in on anything he learned, and Ron forced to trust that Harry would never need to know it in the first place. Pretending the conversation had never occurred in the first place he turned over to face the wall, the bright orange paint still apparently permeating his eyelids even in the dark.

He felt already that falling asleep tonight was a lost cause. His mind was too full, he knew it would take an age to drift off, and that even then he would be dreaming - he could practically sense it coming on like a sixth sense. On a night like this he ought to be practicing Occlumency, applying everything he had learned from Snape. Clear his mind by focusing on one subject, dedicating all his thought to it, and when under attack choosing a subject that gave him strength and certainty - the DA. He was meant to still be doing that when he needed to.

But tonight though he had tried it wasn't enough, and as he slipped off his head was full of strange dreams. Mr Weasley drawing diagrams he would never understand, which oddly turned out to be nothing more than instructions for the microwave. Then Mrs Weasley chasing him through the vegetable garden, Ginny watching from afar and questioning why he would try such obscene charm work on himself.

As he slept he could still feel his blood pulsing as Mr Weasley passed on the message from the Diggorys, could still feel the way anger swelled in his belly before finally erupting. For that matter he could still feel the coolness of Cedric's body, the limp way his hand felt clenched in his. Lingering in the space between awake and asleep was watching himself from afar, casting quite the lonely figure sitting in the chair at Courtroom Ten whose chains bound him at the hands and ankles. And the guilt felt like a physical weight on his chest. It welled up inside of him and settled in his throat, a painful lump that roused him from his sleep.

Except it wasn't the dream that woke up. Groggily he turned over, the multitude of strange dreams slipping away piece by piece as a soft beam of light entered the room. Silhouettes lingered in the doorway, and though his instincts did not tell him to be alarmed he reached a sleepy hand out to the table where his glasses were kept. When he put them on he was able to distinguish that it was Mr Weasley coming into the bedroom, while behind him was Mrs Weasley.

'I'm sorry to wake you,' Mr Weasley began, his voice a low whisper. 'Everything's alright.'

The immediate reassurance put his racing mind at ease. 'What's going on?'

With a soft breath Mr Weasley sat down on the side of the camp bed, facing Harry who was sitting up. 'As you know, there's an Order meeting on. We'd like you to come to Grimmauld Place so that your opinion on a certain matter might be heard.'

At this Harry faltered. The Order wanted to hear his opinion? They were actively seeking out his opinion. For a brief moment he glanced at Mrs Weasley in the doorway, wondering if this was some kind of trick. But she wouldn't do that to him...none of them would.

'What matter?'

'We'll explain everything at Grimmauld Place,' Mr Weasley said, starting to get up.

This time Harry did not keep his voice down. Mr Weasley's evasiveness, however justified, had him on edge...he was not going to be ambushed again. 'What matter?' he demanded, not caring if he sounded rude.

Ron's snores tapered off, and he gave a soft grunt as he began to rouse. Choosing to let this battle go Mr Weasley sat back down again and turned to him.

'Draco Malfoy.'