Chapter 2
An Excess of Phlegm
Harry and Dumbledore approached the back door of The Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old wellington boots and rusty cauldrons; Harry could hear the soft clucking of sleepy chickens coming from a distant shed. Dumbledore knocked three times and Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window.
"Don't worry Mrs Weasley" came a young girl's voice which Harry immediately recognised as Emma. "If it is a Death Eater, I'll blast them into oblivion."
"Who's there?" Emma asked calmly. "Declare yourself!"
"It is I, Albus Dumbledore, bringing Harry Potter."
The door opened at once. There stood Emma, petite with her long red hair cascading down just past her knees.
"Harry!" Emma exclaimed, jumping at him and hugging him tightly. Harry chuckled and patted her on the back.
"Miss me much?" he teased her.
Mrs Weasley came rushing to the door, short, plump and wearing an old green dressing-gown.
"Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave us a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!"
"We were lucky" said Dumbledore, ushering Harry over the threshold. "Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!"
Harry looked around and saw that Mrs Weasley and Emma weren't the only ones awake, despite the lateness of the hour. A young witch with a pale, hear-shaped face and mousy-brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large mug between her hands.
"Hello, Professor Dumbledore" she said. "Wotcher, Harry."
"Hi, Tonks."
Harry thought she looked drawn, even ill, and there was something forced in her smile. Certainly her appearance was less colourful than usual without her customary shade of bubblegum-pink hair.
"I'd better be off" she said quickly, standing up and pulling her cloak around her shoulders. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly, Emma."
"Please don't leave on my account" said Dumbledore courteously. "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour."
Emma made an odd hissing noise at the name.
"No, no, I need to get going" said Tonks, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes. "Night..."
"Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming...?"
"No, really, Molly... thanks anyway... goodnight everyone."
Tonks hurried past Dumbledore and Harry into the yard; a few paces beyond the doorstep, she turned on the spot and vanished into thin air, Harry noticed that Mrs Weasley and Emma looked troubled.
"Well, I shall see you two at Hogwarts, Harry and Emma" said Dumbledore. "Take care of yourself. Molly, your servant."
He made Mrs Weasley a bow and followed Tonks, vanishing at precisely the same spot. Mrs Weasley closed the door on the empty yard and then steered Harry and Emma by the shoulders into the full glow of the lantern on the table and started to examine Harry's appearance.
"You're like Ron" she sighed, looking him up and down. "Both of you look as though you've had Stretching Jinxes put on you I swear Ron's grown four inches since I last bought him school robes. Why can't you two be more like Emma? Are you hungry, Harry?"
"Yeah, I am" said Harry, suddenly realising just how hungry he was.
"Si down, dear, I'll knock something up."
"Not fare" Emma grumbled. "I've grown half an inch over the summer. That has got to count for something!"
"Not much" Harry teased her as he sat down in the nearest chair. As he sat down, though, a furry ginger cat with a squashed face jumped on to his knees and settled there, purring.
"So Hermione's here?" he asked happily as he tickled Crookshanks behind the ear.
"Yeah, she arrived the day before yesterday" said Emma, stroking Crookshanks gently.
"Everyone's in bed, of course" Mrs Weasley added. "We didn't expect you for hours. Here you are..."
She tapped the pot again; it rose into the air, flew towards Harry and tipped over; Mrs Weasley slid a bowl neatly beneath it just in time to catch the stream of thick, steaming onion soup.
"Bread, dear?"
"Thanks, Mrs Weasley."
She waved her wand over her shoulder; a loaf of bread and a knife soared gracefully on to the table. As the loaf sliced itself and the soup pot dropped back on the stove, Mrs Weasley sat down opposite him.
"Guess what, Harry" Emma grinned, holding up her left hand and moving her fingers. "George proposed to be yesterday.
"Congratulation" Harry grinned back.
"Thanks" Emma laughed. Harry noticed how Emma's eyes shone and the way she bounced in her seat and knew that she was happy and that George was the right one for her. Not that he had any doubts or something.
"So you persuaded Horace Slughorn to take the job?" Mrs Weasley asked.
Harry nodded his mouth no so full of hot soup that he could not speak.
"He taught Arthur and me" said Mrs Wesley. "He was at Hogwarts for aged, started around the same time as Dumbledore, I think. Did you like him?"
His mouth now full of bread, Harry shrugged and gave a non-committal jerk of the head.
"I know what you mean" Mrs Weasley, nodding wisely. "Of course he can be charming when he wants to be, but Arthur's never liked him very much. The Ministry's littered with Slughorn's old favourites, he was always good at giving leg-ups, but he never had much time for Arthur- didn't seem to think he was enough of a high-flier. Well, that just shows you, even Slughorn makes mistakes. I don't know whether Ron or Emma's told you in any of their letters- it's only just happened- but Arthur's been promoted!"
It could not have been clearer that Mrs Weasley had been bursting to say this just as much as Emma had wanted to tell Harry she was engaged. Harry swallowed a large amount of very hot soup and though he could feel his throat blistering.
"That's great!" he just managed to gasp out.
"You are sweet" beamed Mrs Weasley, possible taking his watering eyes for emotion at the news. Emma giggled but was kind enough to stop his throat hurting with her wand and to cool down the soup a bit. "Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defence Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job; he's got ten people reporting to him now!"
"What exactly...?"
Emma shot him a glance that said plainly now you've done it.
"Well, you see, in all the panics about You-Know-Who, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. You can imagine the kind of thing- so-called protective potions that are really gravy with bit of Bubotuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off... well, in the main the perpetrators are just people like Mundungus Fletcher, who've never done an honest day's work in their lives and are taking advantage of how frightened everybody is, but every now and then something really nasty turns up. The other day Arthur confiscated a box of cursed Sneakoscopes that were almost certainly planted by a Death Eater. So you see, it's a very important job, and I tell him it's just silly to miss dealing with spark-plugs and toasters and all the rest of that Muggle rubbish." Mrs Weasley ended her speech with a stern look, as if it had been Harry and Emma suggesting that it was natural to miss spark-plugs.
"Is Mr Weasley still at work?" Harry asked.
"Yeah" Emma nodded.
"As a matter of fact, he's a tiny bit late..." Mrs Weasley said worriedly. "He said he'd be back around midnight..."
She and Emma turned to look at a large clock that was perched awkwardly on top of a pile of sheets in the washing basket at the end of the table. Harry recognised it at once: it had nine hands, each inscribed with the name of a family member, and usually hung on the Weasleys' sitting-room wall, and though its current position suggested that Mrs Weasley had taken to carrying it around the house with her. Every single one of its nine hands was now pointing at mortal peril.
"It's been like that for a while now" said Emma, in an unconvincingly casual voice "ever since You-Know-Who came back into the open. I suppose everybody's in mortal peril now... we don't think it can be just this family... but we don't know anyone else who's got a clock like this, so I can't check. Oh!"
With a sudden exclamation she pointed at the cloak's face. Mr Weasley's hand had switched to travelling.
"He's coming!"
And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock on the back door. Mrs Weasley jumped up and hurried to it; with one hand on the doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly "Arthur, is that you?"
"Yes" came Mr Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"
"Oh, honestly..."
"Molly!"
"All right, all right... what is your dearest ambition?"
"To find out how aeroplanes stay up."
Mrs Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr Weasley was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door remained firmly shut.
"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"
"Arthur, really, this is just silly..."
"What do you like em to call you when we're alone together?"
Even by the dim light of the lantern Harry and Emma could tell that Mrs Weasley had turned bright red.
"So, Harry" said Emma loudly "I was wondering whether or not you could give me away seen as you're the only family member I have left that is biological.
"Sure" Harry answered just as loudly.
"Correct" said Mr Weasley. "Now you can let me in.
Mrs Weasley opened the door to reveal her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired wizard wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and a long and dusty travelling cloak.
"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home" said Mrs Weasley, still pink in the face as she helped her husband out of his cloak. "I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonation you!"
"I know, dear, but its Ministry procedure and I have to set an example. Something smells good- onion soup?"
Mr Weasley turned hopefully in the direction of the table.
"Harry! We didn't expect you until morning!"
They shook hands and Mr Weasley dropped into the chair beside Harry as Mrs Weasley set a bowl of soup in front of him, too.
"Thanks, Molly. It's been a tough night. Some idiot's started selling Metamorph-Medals. Just sling them around your neck and you'll be able to change your appearance at will. A hundred thousand disguises, all for ten Galleons!"
"And what really happens when you put them on?" Emma asked curiously.
"Mostly you just turn a fairly unpleasant orange colour, but a couple of people have also sprouted tentacle-like warts all over their bodies. As if St Mungo's didn't have enough to do already!"
"It sounds like the sort of thing Fred and George would find funny" said Mrs Weasley hesitantly.
"They didn't do it" Emma said confidently. "I'm keeping tabs on everything they do and the outcome. I would know if they did something like that."
"The boys wouldn't do anything like that now" Mr Weasley "not when people are desperate for protection!"
"So is that why you're late, Metamorph- Medals?"
"No, we got wind of a nasty Backfiring Jinx down in Elephant and Castle, but luckily the Magical Law Enforcement Squad had sorted it out by the time we got there..."
Harry stifled a yawn behind his hand.
"Bed" said an undeceived Emma firmly at once.
"I've got Red and George's room all ready for you" said Mrs Weasley. "You'll have it to yourself."
"Why, where are they?"
"Oh, they're in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the little flat over their joke shop as they're so busy" Emma answered.
"Of course, you would know" Harry teased her. Emma playfully slapped him lightly on the arm and blushed deeply.
"I must say" said Mrs Weasley "I didn't approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business! Come on, dear, your trunk's already up there."
"Night, Mr Weasley" said Harry, pushing back his chair. Crookshanks leapt lightly from his lap and slunk out of the room.
"G'night" said Mr Weasley.
Harry and Emma saw Mrs Weasley glance at the clock in the washing basket as they left the kitchen. All the hands were, once again, at mortal peril.
Fred and George's bedroom was on the second floor. Emma pointed her wand at a lamp on the bedside table and it ignited at once, bathing the room in a pleasant golden glow. Though a large vase of flowers had been placed on a desk in front of the small window, their perfume could not disguise the lingering smell of what they thought was gunpowder. A considerable amount of floor space was devoted to a vast number of unmarked, sealed cardboard boxes, amongst which stood Harry's school trunk. The room looked as though it was it was being used as a temporary warehouse.
Hedwig hooted happily at them from her perch on top of a large wardrobe, and then took off through the window. Emma knew she had been waiting to see Harry before going hunting. Harry bade Emma and Mrs Weasley goodnight, put on pyjamas and got into one of the beds. There was something hard in the pillowcase. He groped inside it and pulled out a sticky purple and orange sweet, which he recognised as a Puking Pastille. Smiling to himself, he rolled over and was instantly asleep.
Seconds later, or so it seemed to Harry, he was woken by what sounded like cannon-fire as the door burst open and some say "He needs his rest!"
Sitting bolt upright, he heard the rasp of the curtains being pulled back: the dazzling sunlight seemed to poke him hard in both eyes. Shielding them with one hand, he groped hopelessly for his glassed with the other hand.
"Wuzzgoinon?"
"We didn't know you were here already!" said a loud and excited voice, and he received a sharp blow to the top of the head.
"Ron, don't hit him!" said a girl's voice reproachfully.
"Yeah, he can't afford to lose anymore brain-cells than he's already got" said another girl's voice.
Harry hand found his glasses and he shoved them on, though the light was so bright he could hardly see anyway. A long, looming shadow quivered in front of him for a moment; he blinked and Ron Weasley came into focus, grinning down at him.
"All right?"
"Never been better" said Harry, rubbing the top of his head and slumping back on to his pillows. Emma giggled. "You?"
"Not bad" said Ron, pulling over a cardboard box and sitting on it. "When did you get here? Mum's only just told us!"
"About one o'clock this morning" Emma answered him, also pulling over a cardboard box by Harry's head and sat down.
"Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?" Hermione asked worriedly.
"Same as usual" said Harry, as Hermione perched herself on the edge of his bed. "They didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How are you, Hermione?"
"Oh, I'm fine" said Hermione, who was now scrutinising Harry and Emma as though they were sickening for something.
They thought they knew what was behind this and, as they had no wish to discuss Sirius's death or any other miserable subject at the moment, he said "What time is it? Have I missed breakfast?"
"Don't worry about that, Mum's bringing you up a tray; she reckons you look underfed" said Ron, rolling his eyes. "So, what's been going on?"
"Nothing much, I've just been stuck at my aunt and uncles, haven't I?"
"Come off it!"said Ron. "You've been off with Dumbledore!"
"It probably wasn't that exciting" said Emma knowingly. "Dumbledore just wanted Harry to help him persuade this old teacher call Horace Slughorn to come out of retirement."
"Oh" said Ron, looking disappointed. "We thought..."
Hermione flashed a warning look at Ron and Ron changed tack at top speed.
"...we thought it would be something like that."
"You did?" said Harry, amused, and Emma raised her eyebrows.
"Yeah... yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we."
"You two are horrible liars, you know that" Emma laughed.
"So, err, what's he like?" Ron asked.
"He looks a bit like a walrus and he used to be Head of Slytherin" said Harry.
"Something wrong, Hermione?" Emma asked, unconvincingly casual.
She was watching them as though expecting strange symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. She rearranged her features hastily in an unconvincing smile.
"No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?"
"Dunno" said Harry. "He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?"
"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge" said a voice from the doorway. Ron's younger sister slouched into the room, looking irritable. "Hi, Harry."
"What's up with you?" Ron asked.
"It's her" said Ginny, plonking herself down on Harry's bed. "She's driving me mad."
"What has she done now?" asked Hermione and Emma sympathetically.
"It's the way she talks to me- you'd think I was about three!"
"I know" said Hermione, dropping her voice. "She's so full of herself."
Harry was astonished to hear Hermione talking about Mrs Weasley like this and could not blame Ron for saying angrily "Can't you two lay off her for five seconds?"
"Oh, that's right, defend her" snapped Ginny.
"We all know you can't get enough of her" Emma added, rolling her eyes and pointing a finger at her head.
This seemed an off comment to make about Ron's mother; starting to feel that he was missing something, Harry said "Who are you...?"
But his question was answered before he could finish it. The bedroom door flew open again and Harry instinctively yanked the bedcovers up to his chin so hard that Hermione and Ginny slid off the bed and on to the floor.
A young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow. To complete this vision of perfection, she was carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray.
"'Arry" she said in a throaty voice. "Eet 'as been too long!"
She swept over the threshold towards him, Mrs Weasley was revealed, bobbing along in her wake, looking rather cross.
"There was no need to bring up the tray; I was just about to do it myself!"
"Eet was no trouble" said Fleur Delacour, setting the tray across Harry's knees and then swooping to kiss him in each cheek; he felt the places where he mouth had touched him burn. "I 'ave longing to see 'im. You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She never talking about 'Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again."
"Oh... is she here too?" Harry croaked.
"No, no, silly boy" said Fleur with a tinkling laugh "I mean next summer, when we- but do you not know?"
Her great blue eyes widened and she looked reproachfully at Mrs Weasley, who said "We haven't got round to telling him about it yet."
Fleur turned her back on her, swinging her silvery sheet of hair so that it whipped across Mrs Weasley across the face. Emma made an angry noise, glaring into Fleur's back as though she wished she could burn holes in her.
"Bill and I are going to be married!"
"Oh" said Harry blankly. He could not help noticing how Mrs Weasley, Hermione, Ginny and Emma wee all determinedly avoiding each other's gaze. "Wow. Err= congratulations!"
She swooped down upon him and kissed him again.
"Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me 'ere for a few days to get to know 'is family properly. I was so pleased to 'ear you would be coming- zere isn't much to do 'ere, unless you like cooking and chickens! Well- enjoy your breakfast, 'Arry!"
With these words she turned gracefully and seemed to float out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Mrs Weasley made a noise that sounded like "tchah!"
"Mum hates her" said Ginny quietly.
"I do not hate her!" said Mrs Weasley in a cross whisper. "I just think they've hurried into this engagement that is all!"
"You don't seem to mind at all about me and George getting married. I hardly think it's any different" said Emma slyly.
"Yes, well, you and George are made for each other. What is the point in waiting?" said Mrs Weasley. "Whereas Bill and Fleur... well... what have they got in common? He's a hard-working, down-to-earth sort of person, whereas she's..."
"A cow" said Ginny, nodding. "But Bill's not that down-to-earth. He's a curse-breaker, isn't he? He likes a bit of adventure, a bit of glamour... I expect that's why he's gone for Phlegm."
"Stop calling her that, Ginny" said Mrs Weasley sharply, as Harry, Hermione and Emma laughed. "Well, I'd better get on... eat your eggs while they're warm, Harry."
Looking careworn, she left the room. Ron still seemed slightly punch-drink; he was shaking his head experimentally like a dog trying to rid its ears of water.
"Don't you get used to her is she's staying in the same house?" Harry asked. Emma rolled her eyes.
"Well, you do" said Ron "but if she jumps out at you unexpectedly, like then..."
"It's pathetic" said Hermione furiously, striding away from Ron as far as she could go and turning to face him with arms folded once she had reached the wall.
"You don't really want her around forever?" Ginny asked Ron incredulously. When he merely shrugged, she said "Well, mum's going to put a stop to it if she can, I bet you anything."
"I wish her luck" Emma mumbled "'cause those two stick together like magnets."
"How's she going to manage that?" asked Harry.
"She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner" replied Hermione. "I think she's hoping Bill will fall for Tonks instead."
"I hope he does" Ginny said. "I'd much rather have her in the family."
"Mrs Weasley isn't getting Tonks round for dinner for that!" Emma said, looking surprised. "I thought you lot would have figured it out by now!"
"What?" asked Hermione curiously.
"It's not for me to say" Emma decided finally after a couple of minutes of silence.
"And anyway" said Ron "no bloke in his right mind's going to fancy Tonks when Fleur's around. I mean, Tonks is okay-looking when she isn't doing stupid things to her hair and her nose, but..."
"She's a damn sight nicer than Phlegm" said Ginny.
"And she is more intelligent, she's an Auror!" said Hermione from the corner.
"Fleur isn't that stupid seen as she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament" said Emma fairly.
"Not you as well!" said Hermione bitterly.
Emma held up her hands like a surrender and said "I'm merely pointing out all the facts."
"I'd much rather have Tonks in the family" said Ginny. "At least she's a laugh."
"She hasn't been much of a laugh lately" said Ron. "Every time I've seen her she's looked more like Moaning Myrtle."
"That's not fair" snapped Emma, glowering at Ron. "She's been having a really hard time lately. And she still hasn't got over what happened... you know... I mean, he was her cousin!"
Emma winced. They had arrived at Sirius. She really wished she hadn't picked up the subject. She saw Harry pick up his fork and he began shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth, obviously hoping to deflect any invitation to join this part of the conversation. Emma closed her eyes and laid her head on the edge of the bed, also hoping to deflect any invitation to join in.
"Tonks and Sirius barely knew each other!" she heard Ron say. "Sirius was in Azkaban half her life and before that their families never met..."
"That's not the point" said Hermione. "She thinks it was her fault he died!"
"How does she work that one out?" asked Harry, in spite of himself. Emma had to smile faintly at that. Humans! Their curiosity always got the better of them.
"Well, she was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, wasn't she? I think she feels that if only she had finished her off, Bellatrix couldn't have killed Sirius."
"That's stupid" said Ron.
"It's survivor's guilt" Emma mumbled.
"I know Lupin's tried to talk her round, but she's really down" Hermione said and Emma laughed drily.
"He's half of the problem" she said, her eyes still closed.
They all knew that Emma wasn't going to explain so Hermione continued. "She's actually having trouble with her Metamorphosing!"
"With her...?" Harry asked puzzled.
"She can't change her appearance like she used to" explained Hermione. "I think her powers must have been affected by shock; or something to do with that" she added with a side glance at Emma.
"I didn't know that could happen" said Harry.
"Nor did I" said Hermione "but I suppose if you're really depressed..."
The door opened again and Mrs Weasley popped her head in.
"Ginny" she whispered "come downstairs and help me with the lunch."
"I'm talking to this lot!" said Ginny, outraged.
"Now!" said Mrs Weasley, and withdrew.
"She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Phlegm!" said Ginny crossly. She swung her ling red hair around in a very good imitation of Fleur and pranced across the room with her arms held aloft like a ballerina.
"You lot had better come down quickly too" she said as she left.
Harry took advantage of the temporary silence to eat more breakfast. Hermione was peering into Fred and George's boxes, tough every now and then she cast sideways looks at Harry and Emma. Ron, who was now helping himself to Harry's toast, was still gazing dreamily at the door. Emma was humming softly to herself a tune that was strangely familiar to him.
"What's this?" Hermione asked eventually, holding up what looked like a small telescope.
"Dunno" said Emma, who had stopped humming and opened her eyes. "But if Fred and George've left it here, it's probably not ready for the joke shop yet, so be careful. Well, that, or they've forgotten about it."
"Your mum said the shop's going well" said Harry to Ron. "Said Fred and George have got a real flair for business."
"That's an understatement" said Ron. "They are raking in the Galleons! I can't wait to see the place. We haven't been to Diagon Alley yet, because Mum says Dad's got to be there for extra security and he's been really busy at work, but it sounds excellent."
"It is" Emma agreed.
"And what about Percy" asked Harry; the third-eldest Weasley brother had fallen out with the rest of the family. "Is he talking to your mum and dad?"
"No dice" Ron replied.
"But he knows your dad was right all along now about Voldemort being back..."
"Dumbledore said to me that people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right" said Emma. "He told me a couple of days ago."
"Sounds like the sort of metal thing Dumbledore would say" said Ron.
"Madness can be found enlightening rather than frightening" Emma disagreed.
Ron mocked groaned and said "You're just as bad as Dumbledore."
"He's going to be giving me and Emma private lessons this year" said Harry conversationally.
Ron chocked on his bit of toast and Hermione gasped.
"You kept that quiet!" said Ron.
"I only just remembered" said Harry honestly and Emma nodded slightly in agreement.
"He told me the day before me left Hogwarts and he told Harry last night in your broom shed" she explained.
"Blimey... private lessons with Dumbledore!" said Ron, looking impressed. "I wonder why he's...?"
He voice tailed away. Harry and Emma saw him and Hermione exchange looks. Harry laid down his knife and fork, his heart beating rather fast considering that all he was doing was sitting in bed and Emma felt slightly sick. Dumbledore had said to do it... why not now? Emma fixed her eyes on the window and Harry said "We don't know exactly why he's going to be giving us lessons, but we think it must be because of the prophecy."
Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke. Harry and Emma had the impression that they both had frozen. Emma continued for him "You know the one they were trying to steal at the Ministry."
"Nobody knows what it said, though" said Hermione quickly. Emma sensed she was trying not to get her hopes up. "It got smashed."
"Although the Prophet says..." began Ron, but Hermione shushed him.
"The Prophet has got it right" said Emma, looking up at them both with great effort and Harry did the same; Hermione seemed frightened and Ron looked amazed. "That glass ball that smashed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. We heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office, he was the one the prophecy was made to, and so he could tell us. From what it said" Emma took a deep breath "it looks like we're the ones who's got to finish off Voldemort... at least, is said neither of us could live while the other survives."
"What did it say exactly?" asked Hermione carefully.
"Two children with power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..." Emma recited from memory. "Born to those who have trice defied him, both born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark them as his equal, but they will have the power the Dark Lord knows now. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives... one of the two will protect the other like an angel from above..."
The four of them gazed at each other in silence for a moment. Then there was a loud bang and Hermione vanished behind a puff of black smoke.
"Hermione!" shouted Harry, Ron and Emma together; the breakfast tray slid to the floor with a crash onto Emma's foot but she didn't seem to notice. Knowing her, she probably didn't even feel it.
Hermione emerged, coughing, out of the smoke, clutching the telescope and sporting a brilliantly purple black eye.
"O squeezed it and it- it punched me!" she gasped.
And sure enough, they now saw a tiny fist on a long spring protruding from the end of the telescope.
"Don't worry" said Ron, who was plainly trying not to laugh and earning a whack on the arm from Emma. "Mum will fix that she's good at healing minor injuries."
"Oh, well, ever mind that now!" said Hermione hastily. "Oh my gosh!"
She sat down on the edge of his bed again and Emma rested her head on Harry's shoulder.
"We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry... obviously, we didn't want to say anything to you two, but from what Lucius Malfoy said about the prophecy, how it was about you two and Voldemort, well, we thought it might be something like this... oh..." She stared at them, the whispered "Are you scared?"
"Not as much as we were" Emma admitted. "When we first heard it, we were... but now, it seems as though we always knew we'd have to face him in the end..."
"He wouldn't be giving you lessons if he thought you were goners" said Ron eagerly. "He wouldn't waste his time- he must think you've got a chance!"
"That's true" said Hermione. "I wonder what he will teach you. Really advance defensive magic, probably... powerful counter-curses... anti- jinxes..."
Harry and Emma didn't really listen. Warmth was spreading through them that had nothing to do with the sunlight; a tight obstruction in their chests seemed to be dissolving. They knew that Ron and Hermione were more shocked than they were letting on, but the mere fact that they were still here on either side of them, speaking bracing words of comfort, not shrinking from them as though they were contaminated or dangerous, was worth more than they could ever tell them, more than they could even put into words. They almost felt like jumping up and down with happiness.
"...and evasive enchantments generally" concluded Hermione. "Well, at least you know one lesson you'll be having this year that's one more than Ron and me. I wonder when our O.W.L results will come."
"Can't be long now, it's been a month" said Ron.
"Dumbledore said our results would be arriving today!" Emma exclaimed suddenly.
"Today?" shrieked Hermione "Today? But why didn't you- oh my God- you should have said..."
She leapt to her feet.
"I'm going to see whether any owls have come..."
But when Harry and Emma arrived downstairs ten minutes later, fully dressed and Harry carrying his empty breakfast tray, it was to find Hermione sitting at the kitchen table in great agitation, while Mrs Weasley tried to lessen her resemblance to half a panda.
"It just won't budge" Mrs Weasley was saying anxiously, standing over Hermione with her wand in her hand and a copy of The Healer's Helpmate open at 'Bruises, Cuts and Abrasions'. "This has always worked before, I just can't understand it."
"It's probably Fred and George's idea of a funny joke, making sure it can't come off" said Emma worriedly.
"But it's got to come off!" squeaked Hermione. "I can't go around looking like this forever!"
"Don't worry" said Emma soothingly. "I'm sure they have an antidote at their shop. They always have."
"Bill told me 'ow Fred and George are very amusing!" said Fleur, smiling serenely.
"Yes, I can hardly breathe for laughing" snapped Hermione.
She jumped up and started walking round and rounds the kitchen, twisting her fingers together.
"Mrs Weasley, you're quite, quite sure no owls have arrived this morning?"
"Yes, dear, I would have noticed" said Mrs Weasley patiently. "But it's barely nine, there's still plenty of time..."
"I know I messed up Ancient Runes" muttered Hermione feverishly "I definitely made at least one serious mistranslation. And the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I though Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back..."
"Hermione, will you shut up, you're not the only one who is nervous!" braked Ron. "And when you've got your eleven "Outstanding" O..."
"Don't, don't, don't!" said Hermione, flapping her hands hysterically. "I know I've failed everything!"
"What happens if we fail?" Harry asked the room at large, but it was Emma who answered.
"You discuss your options with you Head of House."
Harry's stomach squirmed. He wished he had eaten less breakfast.
"At Beauxbatons" said Fleur complacently "we 'ad a different way of doing things. I think eet was better. We sat our examinations after six years of study, not five, and then..."
Fleur's words were drowned in a scream. Hermione was pointing through the kitchen window. Three black specks were clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time.
"They're definitely owls" said Ron hoarsely, jumping up to join Hermione at the window.
"And there are four of them" said Harry, hastening to her side.
"Hmmm, one of them must be for me then" Emma said vaguely, gliding to the window curiously. "Dumbledore said he was going to send me an owl."
"One for each of us" said Hermione in a terrified whisper. "Oh no... Oh no... Oh no..."
She gripped both Harry and Rob tightly around the elbows causing them to wince slightly in pain.
The owls were flying directly at The Burrow, three handsome townies and one eagle, each of which, it became clear as they flew lower over the path leading up to the house, was carrying a large square envelope, though the eagles one was smaller.
"Oh no!" squealed Hermione
Mrs Weasley squeezed past them and opened the kitchen window. One, two three, four, the birds soared through it and landed on the table in a neat line. All four of them lifted their right legs.
Emma moved forwards. The letter and parcel addressed to her was tied to the leg of the eagle in the middle as she had guessed. She untied it curiously
She read the letter first:
Dear Emma,
This is a book Sirius wanted you to have. He said that you would understand. He also said that this would help you in the future. Don't ask me what he means because he didn't tell me.
From
Professor Dumbledore
Emma frowned and opened the parcel, ignoring everyone around her. She pulled out a purple violate book. She opened it and a note slipped out, fluttering to the floor. She picked it up quickly and began to read:
To Emma,
If you have this book and are reading this note then I am dead. I'm sorry if you didn't know this. But please don't morn over my death for too long. I will see you both sometime in the future.
This book contains some stories that will help you. I don't know how I know this, I just know.
You're affectionate Godfather
Sirius Black
Emma was fighting back tears by the time she had finished the note and had to sit down.
"Are you okay, Em?" asked Ginny carefully.
"Yeah" she croaked. "I have to go to my room. I'll be back down in a few minutes."
She rushed up stairs and locked the door firmly before any of them could say anymore. She plunked herself down onto her bed and started to read silently:
THE TALE OF THE
THREE BOTHERS
There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brother reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across.
However, these three brothers were learned in magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.
And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.
So the oldest brother, who was combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder three on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.
Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.
And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.
Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way and they did so, talking with wonder of their adventure they had just had, and admiring Death's gifts.
In due course, the brothers separated, for his own destination.
The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, he sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Dearth himself, and of how it made him invincible.
That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the eldest brother's throat.
And so Death took the first brother for his own.
Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry before her him.
Yet she was silent and cold, separated from him as though by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing himself so as truly to join her.
And so Death took the second brother for his own.
But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.
Emma found a couple of poems, though she wasn't sure why Sirius had put them there.
Oh, the torment bred in the race,
The grinding scream of Death,
And the stroke that hits the vein,
The haemorrhage none can staunch, the grief,
The curse no man can bear.
But there is a cure in the house,
And not outside it, no,
Not from others but from them,
Their bloody stride.
We sing to you,
Dark gods beneath the earth.
Now here, you blissful powers underground-
Answer the call, send help.
Bless the children, five them triumph now.
~Aeschylus, The Libation Bearers
Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still. For they must needs be present, that love and live in that which is omnipresent. In this divine glass they see the face to face; and their converse is free, as well as pure. This is the comfort of friends, that though they may be say to die, yet their friendship and society are, in the best sense, ever present, become immortal.
William Penn, More Fruits of Solitude
Emma turned the page and saw bold black writing saying: You may not like what you read. You have been warned.
She shuddered and turned the page:
The night wet and windy, two children dressed as pumpkins waddling across the square, and the shop windows covered in paper spiders, all the tawdry Muggle trappings of a world in which they did not believe... and Voldemort was gliding along, that sense of purpose and power and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions... not anger... that was for weaker souls than he... but triumph, yes... he had waited for this, he had hoped for it...
And along a new and darker street he moved, and now his destination was in sight at least, the Fidelius Charm had broken, though they did not know it yet... and he and less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge, and stared over it...
They had not drawn the curtains yet, he saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall, black-haired ma in his glasses, making puffs of smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small black-haired boy in his blue pyjamas and the even smaller dark red-haired girl in her pink pyjamas. The children were laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in their small fists...
A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not hear, her long, dark red hair falling over her face. The father scooped up the daughter and handed her to the mother and scooped up the son in his own arms. He then through down his wand upon the sofa, yawning...
The gate creaked little as he pushed it open, but neither James Potter nor Lilly Potter heard. His white hand pulled out the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open with a flash of white light...
He was over the threshold as James and Lilly came sprinting into the hall, clutching their children to their chests. It was easy, too easy; James had not even picked up his wand...
"Lilly, take Harry and Emma and go!" James shouted, handing the son over to her. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off..."
Hold him off, without a wand in his hand! He laughed before casting the curse...
"Avada Kedavra!"
The green light filled the cramped hallway, it lit the double pram pushed against the wall, it made the banister glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a Mariette whose strings were cut...
He could hear her screaming form the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible she, at least, had nothing to fear... he climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in... He had no wand upon her... how stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments...
He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand... and there she stood, the children in each of her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son and daughter into the cot behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if shielding them from sight she hoped to be chosen instead...
"Not my children, please, not my children!"
"Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside now..."
"Not my children, please no, take me, kill me instead..."
"This is my last warning..."
"Not my children... have mercy... have mercy... Not Harry! Not Emma! Please... I will do anything..."
"Stand aside- stand aside, girl..."
He could have forced her away from the cot, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all...
The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The son had not cried all this time, ignoring his sister's please to hide behind her: he could stand, clutching the bars of his cot. The daughter held him close to her when he started to cry when he realised it was not his father under the cloak making more pretty lights...
He pointed the wand very carefully between the boy and the girl so he could kill them both in one curse: he wanted to see it happen, the destruction of them, inexplicable danger. He did not like it crying, he had never been able stomach the small one's wining in the orphanage...
"Avada Kedavra!"
And then he broke: he was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he much hide himself, not her in the rubble of the ruined house, where the children were trapped and screaming, but far away... far away...
Emma choked back tears. She didn't want to go back down stairs and ruin the happy moment. She could feel their happiness and joy radiating always up the stairs. This is something she would keep secret, not matter what.