Disclaimer: See previous chapter.
Summary: See answer for above Disclaimer.
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Meetings, Murders, and Mischief
(Chapter Two)
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Harry suddenly became lighter than air. He felt himself floating rapidly upwards, swirls of colour passing him by. Almost as quickly as the curious sensation had started, it stopped; he floated back down, his weight coming back to him. He looked around and found himself standing in the dinning room of Grimmauld Place. It was packed with people, he supposed were in the Order of the Phoenix, chatting. Everything got quiet as the people noticed Harry standing in the middle of the room; they were all staring at him.
"Ah, you're just in time, Harry!" said a familiar voice. Harry wheeled around to see Dumbledore standing at the front of the room. "Please, sit," he gestured for Harry to take a seat, his eyes twinkling as they usually did.
"WHAT?" cried another familiar voice; it was Mrs. Weasley. She was standing right behind Harry. "Dumbledore, we're about to start a meeting! Harry can't be here during a meeting! He's not of age, he's not out of school, and he's not in the Order!"
"I am well aware of that, but I've decided to make an exception this time," Dumbledore replied lightly.
"But Dumbledore, there are things he shouldn't have to deal with yet! He's too young! He is -"
"Old enough to hear the truth," he said, cutting off her sentence, his voice not severe but with a note of finality in it. "I have made many mistakes in the past; the point is to learn from those mistakes. I will not allow the events of last term to repeat themselves."
Mrs. Weasley was acting like she had last year. It was really getting on Harry's nerves. Surely, there couldn't be anything worse than what had already happened . . . then what he's already heard . . . ?
"Dumbledore, the prophecy would torture him," she said in barely more than a whisper, looking desperately up at Dumbledore. Harry turned to her.
"I've already heard it," he told her. Her eyes got big and looked frightened. She stared at Harry for a moment, then looked back at Dumbledore as if to silently ask if what Harry had said was true. He nodded as her face contorted into shock; she was acting as though he had just confirmed Harry's death sentence. She looked back at Harry with horror in her eyes. Then slowly, she sat back in her seat with the same look of shock still on her face. A shiver seemed to spread around the room, even though no one moved.
Harry just stood there for a moment, lost in thought. It was weird; everyone in the room knew what was in the prophecy (he could tell by the silence and the looks of pity being sent his way), and they were all somehow connected to Harry by it. There was a sad energy flowing through them, and Harry could feel each person's sympathy closing in on him as though he could hear their thoughts without actually hearing anything.
A small noise brought him back to his senses, and he took a seat across from Remus Lupin and Mundungus Fletcher. Lupin gave him a weak smile. He wasn't looking too good; there were huge circles under his eyes and he was extremely pale. Harry knew this was because the full moon was soon approaching. He returned the smile and looked over to Mundungus; he was sleeping and had a small trickle of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. When Lupin poked him in the side to wake him up for the start of the meeting, he just gave a great snore. Harry and Lupin both looked at a pitcher of ice water that was sitting in front of them, looked at each other, smiled wickedly, and then turned their gaze to Mundungus. Lupin grabbed the pitcher and . . . SPLASH!
Mundungus stood up quickly and yelled, "AHHHH, I'm drowning! IT'S COLD! I'm drowning! Somebody help me, I'm -" he stopped in mid-sentence when he had opened his eyes to see everyone staring at him. "I'm okay," he announced and sat back down, blushing and giving Lupin a mutinous look. Harry and Lupin couldn't help but to laugh at their very wet and now fully awake friend. Dumbledore cleared his throat and looked over at the three of them, amusement etched into his features. He seemed to have found Mundungus' outburst as funny as they had.
"If we're ready to begin . . ." Dumbledore said, looking around to see that everyone was, indeed, ready to begin. "To start with, I'll recap what has been going on for new members." At this, Dumbledore's eyes no longer held amusement or happiness. They seemed . . . tired and weary. He began, "Now that the Ministry knows Voldemort is back, he hasn't been as quiet as he was last year, to put it mildly. There have been at least four muggle deaths that I know of. Each, I believe, were caused by his Death Eaters. I still haven't figured out why he chose to kill those people yet, if there even was a reason, but I will let you know as soon as I find out.
"His forces are still scarce so he has not tried a head on attack yet, but they will not remain that way for long. The new minister has finally sent envoys to the giants; though, it is likely to be too late for most of them. The dementors have once again joined Voldemort, so it is imperative that each one of you learn to defend yourselves in that respect. As most of you know, there had been a mass revolt before the summer had begun. Luckily, the Ministry was able to keep things from getting too far out of hand. Azkaban is now being run by some of our Aurors and other members of the Magical Law Enforcement; though, I fear this will not be enough. It will only be a matter of time before many of its prisoners escape, again." He sighed, "The truth is that until we are rid of Voldemort, things will not settle down. Unfortunately, there is only one person with the power to bring order back to us and relieve us of this evil once and for good. . . ."
Harry had been staring at Dumbledore, listening to every word carefully; now, Dumbledore was staring right back at him. The familiar twinkle that was usually found in his eyes was gone, and it was replaced with a mixture of sadness and respect. He went on, "It's going to be a tough year for you, Harry, but I know you will be able to handle it successfully. I've said it before, and I'll say it again . . . you have shown bravery beyond anything I could have ever expected of you, and I honour you for it."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry whispered; he was having a hard time of finding his voice. Everything seemed surreal, like he was in a dream and couldn't get out: trapped. Dumbledore continued, but Harry didn't hear a word of it. All he heard was ' ". . . and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . ." ' Those words had been playing in his head, over and over, ever since that fateful day in June. Now for the first time since then, those fairytale words were becoming real. Finally, the cold truth was seeping into his brain, and it was nauseating.
Death had been apart of his life ever since he had been the age of one, but this time it was different. This time, not only would he have to see death, but he would either have to deliver it or receive it. . . . He wanted to run . . . to hide . . . to be normal. Another thought came to him, 'I could have been normal. If only he hadn't chosen me . . .' But then again, he wouldn't have wanted such large burdens placed upon his friend, Neville, so that thought was quickly squelched.
The scraping of chairs and shuffling of feet released Harry from his stupor. The meeting was over. "Are you all right, Harry?" came a voice from above him. He looked up to see the anxious face of Lupin staring at him.
In truth, Harry was not all right, but he didn't feel like talking about his troubles at the moment. He also was sick of telling people otherwise, so he simply said, "I'll live." Lupin didn't seem quite satisfied with Harry's answer, but he finally nodded and left to talk with other members of the Order. Harry rose from his seat, wanting to get away from all the stares being directed towards him. He started for the door when his eyes set upon a girl with very bushy hair and a large smile planted on her face.
"HARRY!" Hermione yelled, running over to him. Before he knew it, he was caught up in her embrace, his air being obstructed by long tangles of fuzz.
"Her-mio-ne - I - can't - breath!" he struggled to say through mouthfuls of hair.
"Oh, sorry!" she said, quickly loosening her arms around his neck and taking a small step backward. He was finally able to see her face properly. She hadn't changed too much since that last time he had seen her. She was a bit tanner than normal, but nothing more.
"It's okay," he smiled. He was so glad to see her. He hadn't been stuck with his relatives for longer than three weeks, but it had still seemed like an eternity to him. It was most definitely good to be back.
She was grinning up at him, her eyes alight with happiness. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her so joyous. He vaguely wondered what had made her this way but noticed he didn't really care much, as long as she was happy. Being this close, he noticed how straight her teeth were now, and found himself quite impressed with Madam Pomfrey's handy work. Hermione really did have a wonderful smile. He wished she'd show it off more often.
His thoughts were interrupted, once again, by a distant noise coming from the entrance of the dinning hall. He looked up to see his other best friend Ron and Ron's younger sister, Ginny, laughing and walking over to where he and Hermione stood.
"So did Hermione run you over when she saw you, or did she just resort to cutting off your air supply?" Ron joked.
"The latter," Harry grinned.
"Ha, Yes! Pay up Ron," Ginny held out her hand as if expecting Ron to give her something. Harry looked at her, confused. "Ron and I had a bet going for when you arrived. . . . He thought Hermione would flat out run you to the ground, she's been so anxious to see you, but I figured that she'd manage to stop running in time to just choke you before you could react." (Hermione looked daggers at her and Ron.) "Now pay up Ron. You owe me five Galleons." She continued to hold out her hand.
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, that's the whole point of betting!"
"But I haven't got any money! The whole point of betting was so I could gain money, not lose it!" he complained.
"If you wanted money so badly, you should have taken up Fred and George's offer to work at their shop. But no, you were too lazy. So you'll just have to deal with your decision. Now, what do you plan on doing since you've lost?"
"I don't know, I was sure I'd win!"
"Well, you didn't win. Are you even going to pay me when you do get some money?"
"No, I'm just gonna ignore you until you forget about it," he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Argh! Why do I even bother? You better get me one hell of a Christmas present this year!" Ginny muttered, crossing her arms and glaring at her duplicitous brother.
"Well, you two look very cozy," Ron stated, frowning at Hermione's arms still wrapped around Harry's neck. The two teens looked at each other and quickly separated, blushing. Harry hadn't even realized that they had been standing like that for the past few minutes. An awkward silence covered the group as each fell into thought.
Harry was glad when Mrs. Weasley's voice interrupted them, asking people to help her with dinner. He was more than willing to help set the tables, but she refused to allow it. "You've had a hard day Harry, dear. Just sit back and relax. The rest can set the tables." Harry trudged over to the table he had been sitting at earlier that evening and sat down when he saw the Weasley twins walk into the room. They immediately spotted Harry and walked over to him.
"Harry," Fred and George saluted him.
"Fred, George," Harry returned as the two sat down opposite to him.
"Oi! Why's this seat wet? Great! Now, I'm gonna have a wet splotch on the back of my robes right where my butt is!" Fred exclaimed.
"Now, people are going to think you've been up to something, Fred!" George laughed.
"Har, Har," Fred replied dully, choosing a drier seat.
"You have Lupin and 'Dung to thank for that. Lupin poured water on 'Dung when he wouldn't wake up for the meeting. It was highly entertaining. You should have been there. By the way, where have you two been? Aren't you part of the Order now? Why weren't you at the meeting?" Harry asked.
"We had some . . . unfinished business to take care of," said George, a smile creeping onto his face.
"Like what?"
"Oh, let's just say the muggles you live with are going to be a lot nicer to you from now on," Fred tried but failed to refrain from grinning evilly.
"What did you two do?"
"Harry, I'm shocked!" said George, putting on a face of mock hurt.
"What makes you think we were anything but perfect angels?" Fred inquired, making the same face as his twin.
Harry snorted, "Meeting you, that's what."
Fred's evil smile was back, "What can we say?"
"We have a talent for trouble," George finished.
"That's the understatement of the year!" Harry laughed.
"Fred, George! Don't just sit there; help carry food out to the tables!" Mrs. Weasley's voice was herd once again, screeching from across the room.
"Yes, coming Mum!" Fred yelled back.
"It's not like we really have a choice." George said in a low whisper to Harry. "If we don't help her, we don't eat."
"Just because we're her children, she thinks she can order us around!" Fred exclaimed.
"Imagine that - having to listen to your mum. What is the world coming to?" Harry said sarcastically.
"Yeah, yeah," chorused the twins, begrudgingly following their mother's retreating back into the kitchen.
"Fred, why are your robes wet in the back? Really Fred, I know it's been a while since we last stayed here, but I thought you would at least have remembered where the bathroom was!" Mrs. Weasley's voice floated from the kitchen and through the open door.
"Don't worry Mum; it's not what you think. I was just testing out one of our new gag gifts for the shop," Fred assured her.
"Yeah, they're called Wet Robes! Embarrass your friends and humiliate your enemies! They're perfect for parties and formal occasions," George said with the air of a game-show host.
"They are charmed to activate when the prankster says a secret word. Each set of robes comes with a secret word already assigned to them. When the assigned word is spoken aloud, the robes will suddenly become very moist in the buttocks region. The unsuspecting victim will then be promptly and thoroughly embarrassed," Fred continued in the same manner as his brother.
"Wet Robes are sold in a variety of colours including: yellow, red, blue, green, black, and (for complete and utter social mortification) white, which secretes a yellowish liquid," George smiled wickedly at this. "Three Galleons each, the white ones are an extra two. It's only five Knuts to have the secret word changed to suit the buyers' needs."
"They won't be in stock for another week, but we will take orders now. So, how many would you like to buy, Mum?" Fred inquired.
It was as If someone had set off a bomb in the kitchen. "I WILL NOT HAVE YOU ADVERTISING YOUR . . . MERCHANDISE IN MY HOUSE!" Mrs. Weasley screamed, her voice being rivaled only by a howler.
"But Mum, this isn't your house!" George argued.
"I DON'T CARE! I WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS BEHAVIOUR! Fred, go change your robes into normal robes. George, bring those plates out to the tables, and don't use magic; carry them!"
"Damn, she knows us too well!" Fred sighed.
"Yeah, she does." George sounded mildly impressed.
Harry finally heard the twins mumble their compliance rather reluctantly. Soon, both boys were seen making their way out of the kitchen, one loaded down with dishes. They both gave Harry feeble glances before going their separate ways.
Dinner was an enjoyable affair. Mrs. Weasley's cooking was, as always, delicious. It was rather quiet for the most part, just polite chatter. Harry saw some new faces along with the old. Many of which greeted him all throughout dinner. A few even started telling Harry how brave they thought him to be and how much they admired him for his sacrifices. He really wished they wouldn't; every time this happened, Ron would give him a strange look.
The only somewhat entertaining thing that happened was when Ron blew pumpkin juice out through his nose after hearing about Hermione's 'wonderful' week long trip to Bulgaria with Victor Krum. (Apparently, she decided to go at the beginning of this summer because she hadn't been able to do so last summer.)
"You went to Bulgaria for a week with Vicky, and you didn't tell me?" Ron asked unbelievingly, while trying to wipe up the pumpkin juice that had sprayed everywhere.
"First off, his name is Victor, not Vicky. Second, I just told you about visiting him, didn't I? And even if I hadn't just told you, it's not like I have to tell you about everything I do. So, don't act like I've committed some great injustice by not owling you the moment I decided to take that trip. My life doesn't revolve around you Ronald Bilius Weasley, however hard that may be for you to comprehend!" At that, Hermione stormed off upstairs.
Ron gaped openly at the exit to the dinning hall where Hermione had just left through. "Can you believe her?" he asked, turning to Harry.
"Er . . ." was all Harry could say. Truthfully, though she may have overreacted a bit, he thought Hermione had a point, but he didn't think it a good idea to tell Ron this. Harry, deciding a change of subject was in order, asked, "Are we sleeping in the same room as last time?"
Ron, not seeming to notice Harry's intentions, answered with a muffled, "Yeah," after stuffing a large spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
Harry was beginning to feel the effects of all the food in his stomach and was getting very sleepy. He slowly retreated up to bed but not before saying good night to everyone. He made sure to be as quiet as he could, while passing through the hall where Mrs. Black's portrait still hung. He made a mental note to himself to find a way of removing it some day. He thought that would be a nice tribute to Sirius's memory, based on how much he had hated the portrait.
He drug his feet up the stairs and passed by the many house-elf heads that Mrs. Weasley still seemed unable to remove from the wall. His footsteps, being the only noise he could hear, sounded through the air like tiny explosions. Being alone in Grimmauld Place was starting to take its effects. Memories of Harry's godfather were playing out before his eyes. He was forced to shake his head a few times, in hopes to clear it from the torturous visions.
Finally, he came to the landing on which his room resided. Soon, his footsteps were not the only noises to be heard. As he neared his destination, he could hear Hermione's voice carrying down from her room, muttering about over obsessive, jealous prats. He was tempted to pop in and say good night to her, but thought better of it; she was in 'one of those moods', and unlike the house-elves along the wall, he was fond of his head and he'd rather keep it attached to his body.
When he reached his room, he saw that the twins had been kind enough to bring up his trunk for him. He was reluctant to open it, though, sure that the two pranksters had filled it with Squirting Ink-Pellets or Dungbombs. To his relief and complete surprise, they hadn't done anything of the sort. Harry quickly dressed and slunk into his very comfortable bed where sleep soon took him to fitful dreams of veils.