Chapter Two

Back at the Burrow

Harry rolled over just as Hermione appeared with a loud crack next to him. Hermione, more experienced at Apparition, managed to remain on her feet next to Tonks. Ron appeared a split second later, stumbling, but not falling. Tonks reached down to help Harry up.

"Thanks," he said, brushing off the knees of his pants. He looked up at the house above him, old and held up by magic, and grinned. He was back.

Tonks led the way inside, saying, "Molly made me come with them to get you. She was afraid you'd get into some kind of trouble…. Don't ask me why she'd say a something like that." She winked. "After all, none of you have ever put a toe across the line."

Harry grinned. "What, us? Never!"

Ron opened the front door and stepped into the hall. "Mum, we're back!"

Seconds later, Mrs. Weasley, a plump, kind woman with hair as red as her son's, came bustling around the corner and enfolded Harry in a back-breaking hug. "Oh, Harry, I'm glad you're safe," she said into his hair. "Go into the kitchen, dear, there's breakfast on the table."

Harry obliged, following his nose to the smell of eggs and bacon, as Mrs. Weasley said to Tonks, "Thank you so much for going with them. I would have been worried out of my skin if you hadn't. Wouldn't you like to stay for breakfast?"

"No, I can't, Molly, I'm sorry. I've got some business at the Ministry to take care of. They say they're on Dolohov's tail- completely bogus, of course, meant to draw us away from him, but they want me there for the briefing anyway."

Harry entered the kitchen to see Bill and Ginny Weasley and Fleur Delacour seated at the table, engaged in a conversation about Quidditch. Well, Ginny and Bill engaged in a conversation about Quidditch, and Fleur gazing happily at Bill. They looked up as Ron, Harry, and Hermione came in.

Harry hadn't seen Bill for nearly a month. The bloody gashes that had crossed his face then were now mostly healed, but the scars were thick and wide. His appearance would have startled any Muggle child, but Harry grinned.

Fleur jumped up and ran towards them. She kissed Harry on both cheeks, saying, "Oh, 'Arry, eet ees so good to see you! You are looking well!"

Harry, rather nonplussed, said, "Hello, Fleur."

She returned to her seat, her face shining. Harry shook Bill's hand, and then he finally looked at Ginny.

He could only hope that she wasn't angry with him for what had happened at the end of the summer. Her fiery eyes, however, weren't shining with anger, but with a sad sort of longing. He smiled timidly. "'Lo, Ginny."

"Hi," she said, returning to her bacon. "Come have something to eat."

Not about to argue, Harry occupied the empty seat next to her and began heaping his plate with eggs.

"Anyway," Bill said, continuing the conversation that Harry had interrupted, "they're trying to repair the damage, but it's costing thousands of Galleons. They can't find any evidence of sabotage, but… well, it's obvious, isn't it? A hundred Muggles dead. Who could it be besides You-Know-Who?"

"What happened?" Harry asked apprehensively as Hermione entered and sat down across the table from him. He hadn't read the paper the day before because he had been preoccupied with packing.

Bill sighed and rubbed his eyes. "A hundred Muggles were killed in a… what do they call them? Air-birds? Those big machines that fly the Muggles around?"

"Airplanes," Harry told him.

"Yeah, one of those. It came down over Madrid, killed all the ones in the plane and some on the ground, too. They think it's a terrorist attack, but we know better, even if we can't prove it. The Ministry got to the scene before the Muggles, which was a mistake because the Muggles saw them doing their spells to try to get anyone else out alive. It's costing a ton of money to wipe all the memories and clean up the mess."

There was a long silence, in which Ron could be heard telling his mother out in the hall that he didn't want to degnome the garden so soon after Harry had arrived. He slumped in a moment later, looking dejected, and plopped down next to Harry, who consolingly dumped a heaping spoonful of eggs onto his plate.

Bill looked down at his plate. "Have you been getting the Prophet, Harry?"

He nodded glumly.

"Then you know what it's like. He's gathering power again. He's got tons of supporters. People keep ending up dead, murdered brutally, with no trail left. Or if there is one, it's false. Ever since Dumbledore died, we haven't made any progress."

Harry felt a lump rise in his throat at the mention of Dumbledore's name. He hastily lowered his gaze to his plate so that no one would see the tears forming in his eyes.

When he had managed to push them back, he looked back up and noticed the Daily Prophet sitting next to Hermione's plate. "Can I see that, Hermione?"

She handed it to him. The front page displayed a black-and-white picture of Hogwarts. The title read, "Continued Debate Over the Closure of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry sighed. All summer long, the school's Board of Governors had been at loggerheads, fighting about whether or not to close Hogwarts. It didn't matter very much to Harry, for he didn't intend to return, but he still believed that, despite Dumbledore's death, Hogwarts was the safest place to be.

Mrs. Weasley came in just as Ron helped himself to seconds on bacon. She crossed to the sink to begin washing the dishes. "Ron, I want you out in the garden in five minutes. Your father is going to be home soon, and I want the garden degnomed when he gets here.

"Dad's coming home?" Ron said, looking up from his eggs. "How come?"

"He didn't say. Eat fast so you can get out there."

"Eat fast so you can get out there," Ron mimicked in a high voice, but quietly enough that only Harry could hear.

They finished their eggs and bacon, cleared their places, and made their way out to the garden. Mrs. Weasley made sure that Harry and Hermione knew that they didn't have to help, but they chose to anyway. It had been a while since Harry had degnomed a garden.

The gnomes looked like large potatoes with legs and long white beards. Ron picked one up by the leg and hung it upside down, making a face. "I think we should just get rid of these things for good."

He grasped its beard, whirled it in a circle over his head, and let it fly. "Bet you can't get further than that, Harry," he said, grinning.

The next hour was spent in a world without death, mysterious murders, escaped criminals, or Lord Voldemort. For one precious hour, they were twelve years old again, degnoming the garden with Fred and George.

"Wow, Harry, that must have been fifty feet!"

Harry smiled at the memory of George's words. Happy for the first time since the summer started, Harry trudged back inside, muddy and weary, but grinning broadly.

Mr. Weasley was sitting at the kitchen counter, an untouched cup of coffee sitting before him. At the look on his face, Harry's smile disappeared.

"Hello, Harry," he said unenthusiastically as the three of them entered.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Ron inquired apprehensively.

Mr. Weasley let out a long breath. "They've closed the Ministry for today."

"Why?" Harry asked.

He hesitated a moment before answering. "Rufus Scrimgeour was found murdered about an hour and a half ago."

Harry heard Hermione's sharp intake of breath and Ron's moan, but they didn't register to him. He hadn't known Scrimgeour well at all, but they had met more than once. It was a horrible feeling, knowing that someone he had talked to, someone he had walked with was dead. Just like Sirius, just like Dumbledore, like Emeline Vance, like Madam Bones… like his parents.

The rest of the day passed in a trance-like state. The household was abnormally serious. Bill and Fleur disappeared outside, and Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione played four-way wizard's chess, but no one's mind was really on the game. This became evident when Ron moved his queen in the path of Harry's bishop in his distraction and even more so when Harry didn't see the move. Ron won, but didn't really care at all.

Dinner that night was a very subdued affair. Even Fleur stared glumly at her food. All of them were grouped around the table, eating a delicious vegetable soup that Mrs. Weasley had prepared, but no one really tasted it.

Harry had hardly touched his soup. He moved his spoon around in the bowl, but never brought it up to his mouth. Bill had attempted a conversation with him, but he hadn't really paid attention, and the Bill had fallen silent once again.

His mind was whirling. He had spent the first two months of summer scheming, plotting, thinking, and it had all seemed so easy to him then. But now, restored to the wizarding world after weeks of living with Muggles, it was all real again. Dumbledore and Sirius were really dead, and now Rufus Scrimgeour was, too. He had thought it wouldn't be too hard to track down the Horcruxes, but he knew now that he was wrong.

Mrs. Weasley interrupted his thoughts. "I'm sorry your birthday's been so dreary, Harry dear. I thought I'd spruce it up a bit."

She waved her wand and a humongous birthday cake appeared amid the dishes, and, written inblue icing sprawled across the top were the words, "Happy Birthday, Harry."

Harry put on a strained smile, which he was sure looked more like a grimace. "Thanks a ton, Mrs. Weasley. This is more than the Dursleys ever gave me."

He forced the cake down, despite the fact that he didn't feel hungry. Everyone had a piece, then leaned back in their chairs and managed to strike up a conversation.

Harry didn't listen. He had made up his mind in the last two minutes to do something that hadn't seriously crossed his mind since before starting his fifth year at Hogwarts.

"I'm going to join the Order."

A hush swept across the table as everyone looked at him. He gazed back at their astonished faces, his brilliant green eyes burning with an unquenchable fire.

"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said in a rather optimistic voice, "I must have misheard you."

"I'm going to join the Order of the Pheonix," he told them resolutely. "I'm ready to join."

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "I know that everything that's happened recently has got you worked up a bit, Harry, but..."

"Molly," Mr. Weasley interjected softly, "he means it."

Harry stared around at the dumbstruck faces of the people he knew so well. Bill's was screwed up in consternation, looking as though he was about to argue. A look of sheer horror had occupied Fleur's face, and Ginny was practically glaring at him, her gaze trying to forbid him from carrying out what he had just said. Hermione looked torn between tears and calm acceptance, but Ron's face was determinedly set, his eyes blazing. Harry nearly started crying in gratitude to this, his best friend; Ron would follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked it.

Mrs. Weasley started sobbing into her husband's shoulder. Mr. Weasley held her and stroked her hair, turning to look solemnly at Harry.

"I don't need to lecture you about how big a decision this is, Harry. You've seen, you've heard, you've felt the things that can come about from joining the Order. But I want you to tell me if this is what you really want to do. It's a lifelong dedication, Harry. And if you join, your life might not turn out to be very long."

Harry was silent for a moment, and then he said, "My life will be in no more danger if I join than it is now. Voldemort wants to kill me, member of the Order or not."

"You're right, I suppose."

Harry didn't know why he was doing it. He never wanted to return to number twelve, Grimauld Place again; the memory of Sirius, pacing the halls in frustration, haunted him constantly, and he knew he would have to go there if he joined the Order. But it made him feel like he was doing something, trying to carry on the noble cause for which Sirius and Dumbledore had died.

"Alright, then, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, still trying to comfort his wife, "If you want me to, I'll take you to London tomorrow morning."