A/N: This isn't the most exciting chapter, but you have to start somewhere...

Hear Me Howl

I

Lunch

I took one last look at the castle and apparated. I followed Dumbledore's wake and appeared in front of a door. It was a yellow door in the wall of a red brick house. The house was very large and well-kept, but definitely old. Many of the windows on the upper floors were shuttered with yellow shutters. There were four chimneys, and there was an orchard with a barn and vegetable garden. A few pretty golden chickens and a bedraggled peacock pecked among the apple trees, and a fat tabby cat was sprawled on the doormat. There were crickets chirping everywhere, giving the house a sleepy feel, as if nothing had changed in centuries.

"This is the headquarters?" I asked quietly.

"Yes. We are in a village outside York. Its name," Dumbledore smiled gently, "is insignificant. Nobody knows what it is." He nudged the cat and it opened an eye. "Excuse me, Ned." Ned shut the eye dismissively, and Dumbledore knocked.

A woman even taller than Dumbledore opened the door. Her skin was as black as anything black you can think of, and her hair was in tight and tiny braids. She smiled a stunning smile when she saw Dumbledore—stunning, because it was huge and very white in her big, black face. "It's wonderful to have you back, Professor!" she said musically.

"It's good to see you too, Leenie." He gave her a polite hug, then stood aside so that she could see me. "This is Remus Lupin, I mentioned him in my last letter. Remus, this is Marlene McKinnon, owner of the headquarters, commonly known as Leenie."

Leenie shook my hand, still smiling her huge smile. Her hands were huge like the rest of her. "So he knows everything?"

"Within reason. Have we arrived in time for lunch?"

Leenie laughed. "I expected that, Professor. Come in. Frank!" she shouted. There was a pause. "Frank Longbottom, where are you?" I stepped over the cat and into the house. I shut the door behind me.

A man, apparently a few years older than I, slid down the banister. He was dressed in jeans and a Celestina Warbeck T-shirt, and he looked a bit like James. He was bigger. "What?" he drawled. I realized I knew him—he was James's cousin. He had been four years ahead of the Marauders in school, and had been Head Boy in our third year.

"Show Remus to his room, then get him down to lunch. He looks half starved."

I smiled glumly. "I always look like this."

"Get him down to lunch. Shoo!" Frank levitated my trunk and went upstairs. I followed. The trunk kept bumping the walls because it was a narrow spiral staircase. Frank walked with his tongue sticking out in concentration.

"Be quiet," he muttered when we reached the second floor. It was a narrow balcony over the entryway with a lot of doors opening off it. The far end was another staircase. "Doc's asleep."

"Who's Doc?"

"Caradoc Dearborn. He and Leenie have got something going, but they don't like anyone to talk about it. Bit immature, really. But Doc had a late shift last night, and he's sleeping it off." Frank looked at me sternly. "Never wake Doc up when he's sleeping."

I grinned. "What happens?"

"Shouting, flying objects that aren't designed to fly, jinxes when he's really tired. You're up another floor. We have a lot of people living in these days."

"Who?"

"Phoo….There's Leenie, this is her place, Doc for no good reasons, me most of the time because I like it, Emmeline Vance, she's Leenie's best friend, Dedalus Diggle and Mad-Eye Moody when they get in trouble—"

"Moody? The auror?"

"Yeah, him, Dorcas Meadowes—she's an auror and just as busy as Mad-Eye, but she's a girl so she doesn't get as much credit—and Benjy Fenwick because he's really poor; and Lizzie Buchanan, she's hiding from the Death Eaters because they know who she is. That's…." He counted on his fingers as we climbed another narrow spiral staircase to the third floor. "Nine, plus you. Ten people, and so far we have enough bedrooms. This one's yours." He opened the door. There was a small room with a bed, a chair, a desk, and a big, open window. A branch of a chestnut tree was growing through the window. The room was painted the color of a robin's egg.

"Sorry about the tree," Frank said. "You could cut it if it bothers you, but I think it makes a good hanger." There was a silence. We both had our hands shoved deep in our pockets. My trunk fell onto the bed with a flump and a creak, and the grandfather clock in the hall ticked. A lark sang in the chestnut tree.

"See you at lunch, I guess," Frank said. "It's always good, here." He left, almost shutting the door behind him. I moved my trunk under the window and put my wand on top of it. I looked out at the orchard, of which my window had an excellent view, then went downstairs.

There were half a dozen people sitting around the large and shiny dining room table. On the table was a vase of daisies, some opened bottles of butterbeer, a glass of firewhisky, a cup of green tea, and several pairs of feet. Dumbledore was sitting in the corner with Moody and talking seriously about someone named Karkaroff.

"That was quick," Frank commented. "Sit, and I'll do the intros." I sat next to him, and a butterbeer landed in front of me. I couldn't tell who to thank. "So, everyone, this is Remus Lupin. Lupin, this is Emmeline Vance—Emmy—" he indicated the tall, dark woman on my left with the green tea. I couldn't imagine calling her Emmy. "And Benjy Fenwick—" a tiny, nervous-looking man in his fifties, "Dorcas Meadowes—" a severe woman with iron gray hair and stern wrinkles on her face, "and Lizzie Buchanan." Lizzie was a little wisp of a woman with a sinuous, silvery-blond ponytail that twisted down the back of her robes. I felt sad as I looked at her. She looked too young and fragile for Voldemort to be chasing her.

"So…" Emmeline Vance said. "Where are you from?"

"Lincoln. You?"

"I'm a Londoner born and bred. A lot of us live there, because most of us work in the Ministry."

"How many of 'us' are there?" I asked.

"It varies," said Benjy Fenwick. "Between twenty and thirty members, I'd say."

"People drop out, and there was your parents…."

"They won't be the last," Lizzie Buchanan said darkly. Her voice was strong and clear, as if she were accustomed to talking to deaf people.

"And we don't think we ever know everyone in the Order," Emmeline Vance added. "Dumbledore knows, I'm sure, and maybe a few others, but if we don't know, we can't tell. We don't know of any spies in the Dark side, and I'm sure we have them, but if we don't know, we won't tell under torture."

"Torture?" I asked sharply. "Is that…likely?"

Lizzie nodded grimly. "I was. So was Benjy, and I wouldn't be surprised if they juiced your parents before they killed them." She tossed back what remained of her firewhisky and balanced the glass on her head.

"Lizzie, that was a horrible thing to say," Emmeline scolded. "Look at him! You've really scared him."

"No, no, I'm fine." I was just trying not to imagine what a Cruciatus curse looked like on something bigger than the rat the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had used. I pinched my throat and took a sip of butterbeer. My voice had come out higher than I liked it to.

"I'm sorry, Remus," Lizzie said. She tipped her head forward and the glass fell into her lap.

"It's fine, really. I need to know these things."

"That's right as hell."

I blinked. "So why are you hiding from the Death Eaters? How did they find you?"

She glared at Frank before telling me. "It was a stupid move on my part. I mentioned this to my brother, and my brother is a bit loose with his tongue. He works with me in the magical gossip center of England, the Ministry. You can find anyone there. Criminals, aurors, Death Eaters, a lot of us. The Death Eaters tracked me down a couple weeks ago in my apartment. They tortured me for information—they didn't get any—until I managed to toss a jinx at one of them and apparate here. I know they're watching me, so I'm stuck. I can't go back to my apartment, I can't go to work." She slammed her glass on the table. "All because my brother blabbed."

"What did you do at the Ministry?"

"Trained security trolls."

I blinked again. Frank grinned at me—he knew how surprised I was.

"I miss them," Lizzie sighed. "They have a certain logic—all problems are solved by banging someone on the head with a club." She banged her hand on the table. "Excuse me, I have to go outside and scream." Lizzie left hastily. There was a silence. Dumbledore and Moody were still whispering.

"Was it something I said?" I muttered.

"No, Remus," Dorcas Meadowes said briskly. "She was a very active woman before the Death Eaters found her—nerves of steel, went running every day, chased trolls around with a whip in one hand and a wand in the other. Hiding doesn't suit her. She has to go outside sometimes and kick things. And she's been drinking more than is good for her."

Leenie came in with a pot of something that smelled good. There was a wild scream from outside, then someone on the second floor began to shout.

"Doc's up," Leenie said. Frank laughed. A shouting match started outside. "It'll be good for her," Leenie observed as she served the thick soup. It had a lot of carrots, and big chunks of meat that fell apart on the ladle. "Lizzie hasn't been able to yell at a troll in weeks." There was a suppressed laugh passed around the table, and the headmaster and auror pulled up their chairs. Nobody said anything more. The silence was absolute except for the shouting match—even the crickets were quiet. I sensed that most of the meals here were quiet affairs, and they would not make an exception for a guest.

A big Irishman clumped into the dining room muttering nastily. He served himself some soup and sat next to Leenie. He was big, as I have said, but it is worth saying twice. He had rust-red hair, freckles, and blue eyes with bags of sleep under them. He was wearing rumpled robes, and his hair looked like the hedge of an abandoned house. Nearly five minutes passed, then he looked up and saw me with apparent alarm.

"Who the hell are you?" His right hand had disappeared under the table, to grab his wand, I was sure.

"He's a guest, Doc," Leenie said soothingly. "Moody didn't have a problem with him, why should you?"

"I'm Remus Lupin."

"Caradoc Dearborn." He reached up as if to touch a hat, but there was none there. He patted his pockets and pulled out a battered green tam o' shanter, which he crammed on his head.

Lizzie came back inside. Here hair had mostly come out of its ponytail, and there was blood on her knuckles. Nobody said a word. This was the point at which I decided that it would be a long two weeks until I could move to my own apartment.