A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.

•~0~•

Genevieve's father had filled her in on the details as he had been instructed by Dumbledore. They were to arrive at the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, a secret society of people whose aim was to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters, formed, of course, by Dumbledore, at the same time as the Weasleys would with Hermione. Sirius and Lupin, along with a few other Order members would be waiting for them there. Then the Order would commence one of their first meetings since reestablishment.

Her father told her that she was not to join the Order of the Phoenix until she'd graduated Hogwarts at the end of the year, nor would Fred and George be allowed to. This slightly irked her, as she was of age, ready and eager to help. Genevieve understood that he just wanted to keep her safe, however, as he had explained that her mother had died doing work for the Order.

Holding onto her packed trunk, she grasped her father's arm (as she didn't know the location of the headquarters for the Order) and felt the rather unpleasant sensation of Disapparition. They appeared on a street full of stained, dilapidated houses. The only odd thing was . . .

"The addresses," Genevieve pointed out, confused, "it's straight from 11 Grimmauld Place to 13 Grimmauld Place."

"Yes," her father said distractedly, rummaging in his robes for something. "Aha!" He pulled out a bit of parchment and showed it to her.

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

"But . . ." Genevieve started, but, as she thought of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, a house appeared, just as filthy as those around it. "The Fidelius Charm," she breathed.

"Indeed," her father answered. "Come on . . ." They hurried inside.

It was almost completely dark as they entered the house, and what little Genevieve could make out was dusty and grimy; it was obvious no one had lived here for many years. She stood still, not daring to touch anything.

Her father spoke in a way that sounded almost like he was imitating Parseltongue, and lamps all around them flickered on. Footsteps creaked toward them.

Lupin and Sirius were looking at them, grinning, though Sirius, Genevieve noticed, was much more subdued than usual. Behind them stood several people: a woman with bubble-gum pink hair, a tall black man with a single golden hoop earring, and the real Mad-Eye Moody.

"So . . ." Genevieve said awkwardly. "Where's Buckbeak?"

Sirius grinned for real this time. He jerked his head upstairs. "Keeping him in my mum's old bedroom. About the best way I could think to disrespect her now, it was."

"Your mother's bedroom?" Genevieve asked.

"Ah, yes. Welcome to my childhood home." Sirius said grimly. "I've offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters for the Order. It's about the only useful thing I can do, being a wanted fugitive and all."

She gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I'll take you to him," Sirius offered. As he led the way through a dank hallway, he whispered, "Watch out for the — "

It was too late. Genevieve had already tripped over an umbrella stand that looked suspiciously like a troll's leg, which crashed to the ground rather loudly, causing a set of curtains she had just passed to fly open, revealing a portrait of a rather ugly woman who screeched insults at them.

"Filth! Scum! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers — "

Sirius and Lupin struggled to close the curtains again, eventually managing to shut her up.

"Sorry," Genevieve said quietly.

"What are you sorry about?" Sirius asked, smiling. "You've upset my mother."

"Your mother?"

"Yes," he replied bitterly. "I've been trying to get her down, but I believe she's put up a Permanent Sticking Charm. Ah well, we can try again later."

They entered the filthy room, and Buckbeak, seeing her and Sirius, hurried over. They bowed, and he reciprocated it, before petting him. As Genevieve looked after Buckbeak, Sirius warned her about Kreacher, their bitter house-elf.

"If you have a house-elf, what's he been doing these past years?" Genevieve asked. "Certainly not cleaning."

"I don't know, and I don't care to know," Sirius said dully. "I hate being back here."

Genevieve looked at him. "I know what you mean," she said. When he looked at her in surprise, she elaborated. "Well, obviously my mum's side of the family wasn't as interested in the quality of one's blood as your seems to have been, but I was in my grandfather's house when he died." She shuddered, "I'd hate having to go back there again; too many memories. This must be hell for you, not being allowed to leave."

He nodded. "Not even as an Animagus, as Wormtail will have doubtless told Voldemort of my great disguise. I'm stuck here."

"Do you know when Harry will be arriving?" Genevieve asked. The boy's presence usually seemed to cheer him up.

"No," he sighed. They heard a clambering, though much quieter than usual, downstairs. "That'll be the Weasleys," Sirius said. "I'd better get downstairs; the Order meeting where I'm reminded of everything I can't do."

Genevieve nodded and they went back down. When the twins saw her, they almost rammed into her. "Meet us in our room later," George said softly. "We've more ideas for the joke shop."

As usual, Genevieve would be sleeping with Hermione and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley surveyed the house with distaste, but she tried to remain polite.

"Well, I daresay we'll be busy this summer," she said. "It'll be a wonderful way to keep us busy, cleaning."

Genevieve didn't see a kid in the room who didn't grimace slightly.

"Well, we've got to have a meeting," she said briskly. "In the — er — kitchen."

And the adults exited the room. Fred and George looked appalled.

"We want to be in there, we're of age!"

"But they don't want us to until at least after we've left Hogwarts," Genevieve reminded.

"Well, then, we'll use other ways of finding out what's been going on," Fred said stubbornly. George held up a long, flesh-colored string.

"Extendable Ears," they explained, already looping one end into the kitchen. Everyone gathered around the other end.

The Ear told them many things. The Order was trying to recruit new members, though they'd already gotten some, the woman with the bubble-gum hair — Tonks, they referred to her as — and the tall black man — Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Genevieve had heard those names before, through her father's job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "They're Aurors," she explained.

They were also having Order members tail Harry over the summer, to make sure that he was safe and not doing anything rash. Some followed Death Eaters. And they were talking about guarding something, guard duty.

This baffled the entire group, who spent the rest of the meeting pondering what they could be guarding. Finally, the meeting ended, and the twins hastily extracted the Ears and hid them again. Mrs. Weasley and the rest of the Order reentered the room.

"Well, I suppose I should start fixing dinner," she said curtly, striding back into the kitchen.

"I'll help!" Tonks offered eagerly, trying to follow her but tripping.

"Er — I think I can manage," Mrs. Weasley said delicately. Tonks looked disappointed, but quickly noticed Genevieve and the others staring at her.

"Wotcher," she greeted, her face brightening. "I'm Tonks."

"Is that your first name?" Hermione asked curiously.

Tonks grimaced. "No," she admitted. "But don't call me by my first name."

"What is it?" Ginny asked, interested.

The Auror scowled. "Nymphadora."

The twins snickered. Genevieve elbowed them reprovingly.

"If I may ask," Genevieve started, "how old are you? You seem quite young to be an Auror."

Tonks grinned proudly. "I'm fairly new; I only left Hogwarts in 1991. Qualified in 1994."

"So you were in the same year as Charlie Weasley," Genevieve noted. She hadn't been able to talk to Charlie much about anything, and vice versa, as letters could be intercepted. It was frustrating, as he was one of her greatest confidants.

"Yeah, I knew Charlie. He's in the Order too, recruiting foreign wizards in Romania. And you — " Tonks leaned forward, studying Genevieve, " — must be Genevieve, the little genius he was always talking about. Not so little anymore, are you?"

Genevieve smiled. "Always talking about, you say?" Fred asked, smirking.

"Shut up," Genevieve said.

Dinner was a rather merry event. Genevieve's father was talking to Lupin, Mr. Weasley, and Bill, whom the twins had informed her had applied for a desk job in England, about recruiting more Ministry workers for the Order.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were talking to Tonks about being an Auror. Fred and George were trying to charm their food to come to them, which had hilariously disastrous results. Moody, Sirius, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were discussing Sirius' case, which Kingsley was in charge of. Apparently, Shacklebolt was planning on steering the hunt toward Tibet. Mrs. Weasley was deciding where to start cleaning the house.

It was almost too enjoyable. Surely Percy would have pompously reprimanded the twins by now, Genevieve thought. But Percy was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's P — " she started, but Fred covered her mouth with his hand while George muttered "we'll tell you later" in her ear. The room had gone silent.

Mrs. Weasley stared down at her plate, eyes beginning to water, while Mr. Weasley gripped his glass very tightly. It shattered in his hand.

"Do you want to see something?" Tonks offered, trying to break the tension. She screwed up her face in concentration and her nose changed form. It because long and crooked, like Snape's.

Everyone laughed. "You're a Metamorphmagus?" Genevieve asked, amazed.

"Yeah," Tonks said, and, as if to demonstrate, she transformed her nose into a pig's snout. Thankfully, dinner carried on, Tonks performing a fantastic show with her ever changing nose.

•~0~•

She was sitting on a bed in the twins' room. They had explained how Percy had betrayed the family, and Genevieve had expressed her disgust at his actions. Now they were brainstorming more ideas for the joke shop, including having a physical store.

"We're planning on operating out of the Daily Prophet for the time being," Fred explained. "Mum refuses to read it anymore."

Genevieve nodded. Lately, the Daily Prophet had been taking every chance to abuse Dumbledore and Harry, trying to discredit them.

"How're you going to pay for all this, though?"

"We've got the funds," George said mysteriously.

"How? Bagman took all your savings, remember?"

They looked at each other. "All right," Fred relented. "Harry said not to tell anyone, but I reckon you're fine. He gave us his Triwizard winnings."

"He didn't," Genevieve said, eyes widening in disbelief.

"He did," George said. "With the deal that we buy ickle Ronniekins some new dress robes."

"Don't see how it'll help his looks," Fred sniggered.

They all laughed. Then Genevieve heard the unmistakable sound of Mrs. Weasley's footsteps.

"I should be in bed by now," she said. "Gotta go."

She Disapparated with a loud crack!