Disclaimer: I don't THINK I'm JKR ... hang on ... nope, still not, unfortunately. If I were I wouldn't be writing fanfiction for myself, at any rate ... Or would I?
A/N: This is just one of those fics that popped into my head on the bus on my way to the shops the other day, and the ideas just rolled. It's pretty random, set at the beginning of OotP, no spoilers unless you haven't read OotP yet - in which case, are you mad?? And we're pretending Harry's already had his Ministry hearing at the beginning of the summer to fit in with my plot, too. Any mistakes etc, my bad, I apologise now. My first ever Harry Potter fic, so let me know what you think!
Reviews: Always welcome :D I even accept flames!!
Chapter One
"I swear to God, Harry, you better put it down!"
"No can do," Harry Potter informed his best friend seriously. "After all, Fred and George need a tester for their Fainting Fancies – and if I don't get you to do it, they'll force them on poor, unsuspecting Ginny. And you wouldn't do that to your poor, innocent sister, would you?" He held in silent giggles as Ron Weasley pondered this question.
"Why won't they just test them on you?" he muttered darkly. Harry flushed subtly.
"Because, I'm not their brother – they don't find it as funny," he lied quickly. He didn't think Ron – or Hermione or Mrs Weasley – would find his honest explanation to be an adequate or acceptable one. He had never exactly gotten around to telling them about his part in Fred and George's newfound wealth, with which they were creating an endless stream of joke-shop products, used for the torture and general irritation of the residents of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry and his godfather Sirius Black just happened to be exempt from this ritual humiliation, thanks to his quick talking upon coming face to face with the twins for the first time since he had handed over the thousand Galleons prize money from the Triwizard Tournament. He just didn't fancy being a test subject – and he figured, considering all he had done for him, and how he was already cooped up in this dingy house 24/7, Sirius could do without it too.
Of course, the others found this behaviour highly suspicious. Harry and the twins vehemently insisted it was mere coincidence and good luck that he had evaded their traps so far. Sirius had no idea why he was let off, but appeared grateful nonetheless. And really, Harry thought, it was worth the mistrustful looks from his friends and Order members, when a random vomiting spell would take Bill by surprise, or Hestia Jones would suddenly find herself overcome with dizziness, and he could watch his godfather's face split into a wide grin. This unsuppressed mirth – albeit at others' expense – was a rare thing for Sirius these days, and Harry delighted in knowing he was making a difference to his miserable time here, even in an indirect manner.
"Well, I'm not doing it," Ron stated firmly. "The gits can test their own products – I still get nauseous anytime I see tomato soup!" Harry snorted at the memory of Ron's first experience with the infamous Puking Pastilles – the first dose had been rather too strong, the twins had conceded, when Ron's last four days' breakfasts, lunches and dinners had all found themselves mingled with that nights' meal of tomato soup and veggies, all over his place setting. Needless to say, Molly hadn't made tomato soup since – something the twins put down as a bonus, as they had grown tired of it some five years previously.
"Someone has to," Harry taunted, holding out the small chewable 'sweet.' At one point the twins had had the whole household convinced they were chewable vitamins – which had certainly led to some interesting breakfast discussion by those unlucky Order members suffering from extremely high fevers and the resultant hallucinations.
"Harry, Ron!" The boys snapped to attention as Hermione poked her head around the door to their shared bedroom. "There you two are – Ronald's mother says you've to get washed up immediately. There are some Order members coming for dinner, and they want to talk to Harry over the meal, so we've all to look presentable. Now hurry, they'll be here soon!"
And she waltzed away, the door snapping neatly shut behind her. Harry and Ron exchanged glances, conveying a whole range of emotions to one another. There was the usual slight surprise at her brusqueness and bossiness; some exasperation at having to get dressed up to sit with the same people they saw every other day; and over and above all that, an excitement at the prospect of some important discussion with Harry. It was a given that Ron and Hermione would sit in on any of these sorts of conversations, as would the twins. Ginny lamented her exclusion at any given opportunity, but even her puppy dog eyes and pouted lips wouldn't convince her mother to budge.
"What d'you reckon it is, then?" Ron asked Harry in a low whisper as they descended the main stairs into the hallway five minutes later. Scrubbed, brushed and tucked, they looked quite respectable. Or would have done, if Harry's hair wasn't stubbornly sticking up at the back as usual, and if Ron's trousers weren't a fair few inches short for him as a result of his latest growth spurt. But minor details aside, Mrs Weasley's request had been met.
"No idea," Harry muttered, careful to swerve around the troll's leg umbrella stand that was constantly wreaking havoc on the household when an Order member – more often than not the Auror Nymphadora Tonks, known by surname only under pain of death. For a highly trained Dark wizard-catcher, she really was extraordinarily clumsy. "But whatever it is must be pretty important, if your mum wants us getting all done up for the Order."
"You know Mum." Ron's eyes rolled heavenward. "She probably only used it as an excuse to get us to 'make an effort.'"
"For once." The boys fell silent and blushed a little as Mrs Weasley examined them from the foot of the kitchen staircase. A quick glance past her allowed Harry to catch the eye of his godfather, slouching at the table with Remus Lupin and Mundungus Fletcher. Sirius shot him a mischievous grin – he found Molly's coddling quite as irritating as Harry did, but somehow he seemed to have a knack for seeing the funny side. Then again, she had long since given up on trying to get him to cut his hair or shave – luckily for Sirius, Harry thought enviously, Molly's manners tended to take precedence. As long as she and her family were guests in Sirius' home – not that he would readily admit it – she would go out of her way to be a good guest: polite and helpful, at least to Sirius, if not to their other guests (Mundungus Fletcher being one of her less favoured acquaintances.) The exception to this rule was when it came to Harry himself, he thought with an uncomfortable squirm of his stomach. She had certainly been wonderful to him – but she wasn't his mother. Sirius was his godfather, something they both often wished Molly would remember.
"Ron, you look … passable," she said now, waving a hand, and he took this as a sign that he could pass – and wasted no time in doing so, scurrying down the stairs into the basement kitchen and flopping into a chair just down from Remus, watching Harry closely.
"Harry, honestly, doesn't your hair ever behave itself?!" Mrs Weasley asked desperately, her keen eyes focussed on the tufts atop his head. He shrugged, only semi-apologetically.
"Not that I've ever known of, Mrs Weasley," he said truthfully. A bark of laughter from behind her distracted Molly enough that Harry was able to slip by unnoticed, and before she had time to comment, he had slid into the empty chair on the other side of his godfather, upon whom Mrs Weasley's eyes were now fixed, along with a puzzled look.
"I don't know what's funny about respectable appearances," she said with a slight frown.
Sirius and Remus both chuckled, and Harry couldn't help grinning along. The two remaining Marauders had developed a wonderful little habit of creating a light-hearted atmosphere around the meal table – the place where Molly was in her element, and most prone to snappish outbursts. Seeing her eyes darken, Remus intervened swiftly before Sirius had a chance to make any sarcastic comment, guaranteed to make her worse.
"Molly, he didn't mean it," Remus smiled indulgently at Sirius. "We were having a reminiscent moment, is all – James' hair never seemed to lie flat for anything, either."
"Never lay flat? That's an understatement," Sirius chortled. "It was a right state. At least as bad as Harry's, if not worse," he informed an exasperated Molly. "Now, when are we expecting the rest of our guests?"
His question was answered by a loud clatter from upstairs, followed by a string of very colourful curse words, which were in turn drowned out by bellowing screeches.
"FILTH! SCUM!! HALF-BREEDS, TRAITORS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!"
"Oh look," Sirius said, sounding surprisingly chipper, "Mother's awake. Better go engage in the pleasant family tradition of polite morning greetings …" He pushed his chair back with a loud scraping. Remus rolled his eyes and followed him upstairs. A moment later …
"SHUT UP, YOU INFERNAL WOMAN!!"
"BLOOD-TRAITOR!! SHAME OF MY FLESH!!"
"YOU STUPID OLD HAG!"
"SCUM!! FREAKS, UNNATURAL BEASTS, MUTANTS!!"
"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP, YOU ARROGANT OLD –"
"SHAPE-SHIFTING BLOOD TRAITOROUS MONGRELS, OUGHT TO BE STRUNG UP BY THE –"
"SHUT – THE – HELL – UP!!!!!"
"Nice one, Moony," Sirius' voice drifted down the stairs, restored to normal pitch, as he and Remus led the rest of their visitors down into the kitchen. Remus smiled mildly.
"Yes, well, I thought perhaps pulling the curtains shut would be more effective than your method," he said dryly, sitting back down in front of his mug of tea. "Just my opinion."
"Know-it-all," Sirius muttered jokingly, sliding back into his own chair. A few moments later, the table was surrounded by various members of the Order of the Phoenix – as well as Sirius, Remus, Mundungus and Molly, the crowd now included Arthur and Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Emmeline Vance, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, Mad-Eye Moody, Minerva McGonnagall, Rubeus Hagrid, and Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore himself. Harry, Ron and Hermione suddenly felt very out of place, whereas the twins seemed right at home.
"So, this is quite a crowd for tea," George said conversationally. His mother glared at him.
"George …" she started in a warning tone, but Dumbledore chuckled and held up a hand.
"No need, Molly," he said quite happily, "he's quite right. Obviously, this is not merely a social call – although I do not pretend not to be greatly looking forward to sampling your delicious cooking." The Weasley matriarch blushed, Sirius and Remus exchanged knowing smirks at Dumbledore's cleverness, and Harry could have sworn the Headmaster tipped him a miniscule wink before turning back to address the table at large once again.
"As young Mr Weasley has so bluntly reminded us," – George had the good grace to flush red – "we are here for a purpose other than to enjoy what promises to be a spectacular feast." Dumbledore inclined his head gratefully towards Molly, then shot a glance to his left.
"Nymphadora," he said a moment later, and everyone nearby saw the eye-roll made by the young Auror, "perhaps you'd like to tell us why we're here? I think perhaps the tale will have more impact coming from you, whom it has affected most deeply." He bowed slightly before resuming his seat and watching Tonks intently. When all eyes around the table were on her, Remus, who was sitting beside her as usual, gave her a dig in the ribs. She stood up nervously, twiddling a lock of her bright bubblegum pink hair in one hand and trailing the fingers of the other over the polished wood surface of the table. She coughed.
"Uh … wotcher," she said quietly, shooting nervous glances around the table. This was unusual – Tonks was a vibrant, lively person, and Harry had never seen her anxious before.
"Louder!" called Fred Weasley from the end of the table. "More volume, Nymphadora!" A moment later, there was a gag around Fred's mouth, courtesy of Sirius. Roars of laughter erupted around the tale, even from Dumbledore and McGonnagall, and Tonks threw her cousin a grateful glance. He winked almost imperceptibly, but Harry felt a wave of affection spreading over him. Sirius was always good about defending those he cared for.
"Anyway …" Tonks cleared her throat a bit more loudly, and straightened up. "Yeah, I guess I don't really know where to start, with this … Well, you all know the Malfoys?" A murmur ran around the crowd, and Harry and his friends exchanged startled glances. What on earth did Tonks have to do with the Malfoys? Sirius made a noise of disgust.
"I love how I'm the 'shame of my mother's flesh' with that lot running around free," he pointed out wryly. "I think we're all familiar with them, Tonks."
"You're related to the Malfoys?" Harry couldn't help but cut in. "How?!"
"Narcissa Malfoy is my cousin," Sirius informed him in tones of great distaste. "Not that I care to admit it. She was Narcissa Black growing up. The whole lot of them with their pure-blood mania – she'd never have married Lucius Malfoy if it weren't for her mother."
"No kidding," Tonks murmured angrily. Hermione's eyebrows drew together.
"What do you have against the Malfoys, Tonks?" she asked. Nobody was stopping them from asking questions, so they continued. The more information they could get, the better.
"Cissy's my aunt." The Metamorphmagus practically spat out the last word.
"You mean –?" Harry's head swivelled back to his godfather. "You two are related?"
"Yeah," Sirius grinned. "Tonks' mother was my favourite cousin. One of the only half-decent people this family ever churned out. 'Course, we've lost touch now."
"My dad still asks after you, though," Tonks said brightly. "He's a Muggle-born," she informed the kids. "Mum was disowned after marrying him. Family's kind of small now."
"Her own family disowned your mother just for marrying a Muggle-born?" Ron gasped.
"Come on, you three," Sirius said, leaning forward. "Surely this house – my mother's portrait – gives you some idea what the Blacks were like? Bunch of blood-traitors, we are – Tonks, Andromeda and me. But we're related to them by blood, no other way."
"Which brings us nicely back on topic," Dumbledore intervened. "Nymphadora?"
"Oh, right! Well, anyway, I don't think anybody in this room is going to come out and say they love – or even like – the Malfoys," Tonks joked, her voice much stronger. The casual slating of her relatives seemed to have calmed her nerves. "But … well, Sirius, Harry, don't kill me – pretty soon, they're going to need our help. And we have to be ready to give it."
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A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read! I intend to update regularly - I know not much happens in this chapter, I tend to get carried away with my descriptions and all sorts, but if you got this far, then well done you :D