A/N: Hey, I just wanted to take this time to thank everyone who has taken the time to read/review my story so far! Your input and interest mean more to me than you could ever know. I know reviews can be a rightful pain, but I wanted whoever is reading this to know that I really, really, really love reviews. Please take the time to review at the end of each chapter, even if you hated it! Also, I'm warning you that the next couple of chapters are more fluff than the first ones, simply because they just have dialogue. This one, in particular, doesn't really have any point, but that's why I posted Chapter 6 along with it. I hope you understand. Thanks, and happy reading,
-Casey
Chapter 5- The Kitchen of Grimmauld Place
Harry lay sprawled on the floor, momentarily trapped under Lupin's unconscious form. His glasses had been knocked off when he and Lupin tumbled out of the fire, and he could barely make out a few blurry figures in front of him, as his hands traveled blindly around the floor in search of his glasses. Just as his left hand traveled along the gritty stone floor in front of him, coming across a round rim belonging to his glasses and snatching them up off the ground, two pairs of arms wrapped around him as Tonks and Mrs. Weasley hoisted him to his feet.
"Thanks," he mumbled, returning his glasses to their rightful place on his face, only to find that the lenses were both shattered.
Before he could take them off to fix them, Mrs. Weasley hastened, "Oh, allow me, Harry, dear."
He handed them over and she muttered, "Occulus Reparo," before returning them to him, as good as new.
Looking around the room, Harry could see that he was in the basement kitchen, with its dark, dreary walls and dim lighting. In the center of the long room stood a large table, which easily seated 20 or more if needed. At the end where he was standing the massive fireplace rested against the back wall, blending in with the grey walls around it. On the opposite end of the kitchen there was the cooking area, with an old-fashioned stove and a big basin sink, with creaky cabinets hanging crooked above them, and a door to the side led into a large pantry filled with dusty bottles of Butterbeer and jugs of Firewhisky.
The countertops were covered with pots and pans and scraps of food, and a warm, delicious smell that wafted from the oven told Harry that Mrs. Weasley was fixing a meal. His mouth began to water as he realized how hungry he was; he had not eaten all day spare a piece of burnt toast in the morning that he grabbed before heading outside.
"We'll be eating shortly, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, following his hungry eyes over to the cooking area. "But first, we should be checking on Remus."
At these words all thoughts of hunger abandoned him, as Harry turned to see how Lupin was fairing. He was relieved to see that Tonks had managed to revive him, as Lupin sat propped on his elbows, smiling weakly.
"I'm fine, Molly," Lupin said. "I just didn't see anyone coming. Next thing I knew I heard a voice behind me, but before I could turn to see who it was, the spell hit me and, well… I don't quite know what happened after that. How did I manage to end up here?"
"That was the work of Harry, here," Mr. Weasley offered. "Before any of us could do anything, he had jumped back into the fire. He said he had to go back."
"Gave us quite a fright, mind you," said Mrs. Weasley. "You're both lucky that the fire didn't seal itself off from you before you returned." She paused to give a scornful look to Harry. "What would have become of you if you were trapped back there, with the Ministry Accidental Squad arriving and finding you both?"
Harry looked down at his feet, as Mrs. Weasley continued to rant. He hadn't even stopped to think about what would have happened had they not returned in time; it made him quite queasy to think of it now. He felt more and more embarrassed by his rash actions by the moment; he hated doing anything to upset Mrs. Weasley. She had taken him in as almost a surrogate son, offering him a place to stay every holiday, sending him gifts, even taking the time to come and watch him perform in the Triwizard Tournament in his 4th year, when he had not believed anyone would show up to cheer him on. Over the years he had grown to love her and regard her almost as a mother-figure.
Luckily, after a few more ideas about what could have gone wrong, Mr. Weasley cut her off.
"Now, Molly. I know it was not necessarily the smartest thing to do, but Harry deserves our gratitude rather than our chaste," he said, frowning at his wife. "He saved Remus as well as the Order from even larger disaster by returning for him. Can you imagine what would have happened if the Ministry had managed to contain Remus? Not only would he be in some Ministry cell right now, but I have no doubt in my mind that he would be forcefully divulging precious Order secrets to them, and we can not, under any circumstance, afford that!"
Harry could not remember a time that he had heard Mr. Weasley raise his voice before, and it scared him slightly to see him doing so now. Everyone in the room was silent as they looked in slight awe at him, and the silence was quite uncomfortable. Mr. Weasley was red in the face as he frowned at his wife, and Mrs. Weasley was rapidly becoming redder as well, her head now drooped in front of her.
"Of course you're right," Mrs. Weasley said. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just don't want to see you get hurt."
She heaved a great sigh and began to shake slightly, tiny sobs escaping her as she began to cry. Harry felt even worse now than when she was yelling at him.
"It's alright, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, stepping towards her and putting a hand on her heaving shoulder.
He jumped slightly as she sobbed louder and pulled him into a tight hug, and after a few tense seconds he relaxed slightly and hugged her back, wrapped in her motherly love. The Dursleys were not his real family- this was his real family.
Mrs. Weasley recomposed herself and turned to busy herself in her cooking again. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Lupin, looking down at him.
"Thanks, Harry," he said, "I owe you one."
"It was nothing," Harry replied, content that Lupin was fine. Then he remembered all of his burning questions, and decided that now was a good time to ask.
"You said that you would explain everything once we got back here," he started, looking at Lupin. "I have so many questions."
Everyone fell silent at his words, and he looked around the kitchen as Tonks, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Lupin all exchanged uncertain glances. He could tell that they were all hesitant to divulge any Order information to him, as he was not officially a member, being only 15. However, he was prepared for this. Over the weeks at the Dursley's Harry had decided that he was not going to stand the adults keeping any more information from him this year. Since he arrived at Hogwarts, everyone seemed to know more about him than he did himself. Only a few months ago did Harry discover the secret that now weighed heavily on his shoulders and mind, but he decided that knowing the truth was worth bearing the burden. He had not told anyone about the prophecy, and he wasn't sure if he wanted his friends to know yet. It wasn't really worth them worrying over him, giving him strange, frightened glances, or treating him like he was some leper. However, he had decided that this year, he was old enough to know the truth about the world around him, and he was not going to just let anyone try to "protect" him by keeping it from him; after all, it did not protect him at all, it only hurt his chances of excelling and defeating Lord Voldemort even more.
Worried that they were going to avoid explaining things to him yet again, Harry said, "I have a right to know. I'm not just some baby who can't deal with it. How am I ever going to accomplish anything if I don't know the truth?"
At these words everyone slowly turned their heads in his direction, with looks of resigned recognition written all over their faces. Harry stood firm, face set, as he looked them all back in the eye determinably.
Lupin was the first one to speak. Languidly nodding his head in apparent submissive agreement, he raised his hands as if to say 'I give up' and said to Harry, "Alright, we'll tell you whatever you want to know. But there are consequences for the knowledge of truth, and you may not like them."
"I understand fully," Harry said, not allowing himself to be tricked out of being told anything, "and I can pretty much assure you that I can handle it."