Pop quiz: Does Harry Potter belong to me?
Answer: No. Are you surprised?
There's more Rowling than I usually use in this chapter. It just happened that way.
I arrived at Grimmauld Place at noon the next morning to find Hermione in tears, Ron as stony-faced as his father had been since Percy-the-prat had left, and Sirius moping, each one with fingers bleeding from what looked like an owl peck, but my instinct was to disbelieve that since wizards had spent centuries training owls not to peck.
Soon, it became quite clear why the three were so moody, not to mention bleeding. Harry Potter's owl had arrived in the night begging for answers and had apparently been told to keep pecking the recipients until answers were given. Somehow, I had to pity the boy all alone and admire his grit, but still…the marks on Ron's finger were extremely deep, and Hermione couldn't stop worrying about how angry he would be. What kind of friend would tell his owl to hurt his best friends, not to mention scare said best friends with his anger? I wondered. But I found the answer inside me. One who sees his friends as lying and holding out on him. I was rather excited—ok, bloody excited—to meet this boy.
We continued planning for the plan to "spring Potter" as Mad-Eye so eloquently put it. Really, I love that old guy. He introduced me to the Order, after all, not to mention helping me as a young Auror…and with my utter klutziness, I needed the help.
Ron, Fred, George, and Arthur were very patient in answering the numerous questions about the layout of the house, as they had been in it most recently. (We wanted to Apparate directly into the house, but not into any walls!)They also answered questions about the character of Harry's relatives. It was Hermione who finally suggested the best way to get them out of the house—appealing to their vanity. (Ron was all in favor of transfiguring them all into pigs, while Fred and George wanted to continue the effect of their candies on Harry's cousin, who was apparently similar to a pig.) To my surprise, it was Hagrid who gave the final shine to my plan.
"They've got a real nice lawn, them Muggles do," Hagrid said in memory. "Very nice, if yeh've got a taste for that kinder plain green."
I grinned. "What if we send them a letter saying that they've won a Best-Kept-Lawn Competition?"
Ginny smirked. "Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley of Number 4 Privet Drive," she began as if reading from an imaginary letter in front of her. "We are pleased to inform you that you have won the All-Suburban Best-Kept Lawn Competition…"
And so the letter was written and mailed—by Muggle post. The next day, Operation Spring Potter was put into action.
The nine of us gathered outside Grimmauld Place, Mad-Eye cheerfully going over our plans. "Remember, the boy's the most important thing. Your lives are nothing compared to his. Do not stop protecting him if others are attacked." And so on. I rolled my eyes at Remus, who grinned back as Moody continued his lecture.
"And remember," he finished in absolute unison with me, mouthing his final words, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!"
Remus broke into a violent coughing fit to cover up his laughter. I was rather pleased with myself. But hey, if Mad-Eye didn't want to be made fun of, he shouldn't be so predictable! I assured myself, snorting a moment later. Mad-Eye Moody made a career out of being unpredictable.
We apparated together into Little Whinging. I promptly broke a glass on the table.
I looked at Remus. Remus looked at me. We both looked at everyone who was looking at everyone else.
"The stairs," Kingsley pointed out. "George said his room was at the top of them"
We were just beginning to discuss who, if anyone, should go upstairs, when Harry Potter himself appeared at the top of them.
"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," Mad-Eye growled.
This was, unsurprisingly, not reassuring to the black-haired boy at the top of the stairs. "Professor Moody?" he asked nervously.
"I don't know so much about Professor, never got around to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly." Mad-Eye was not famous for his manners.
Harry didn't move.
"It's all right, Harry. We've come to take you away," Remus added from next to me, correctly assuming that Harry needed to hear the voice of someone he knew and trusted.
"Professor Lupin? Is that you?" he called.
I rolled my eyes. Voices are all well and good, but when it comes to really knowing who someone is… "Why are we all standing in the dark?" I asked rhetorically. I'm good at the rhetorical question thing. "Lumos." Instantly, there was light. I always love that spell. It's so terribly useful. I got my first full look at the Boy Who Lived.
His hair was extremely messy, his eyes were green, and the scar on his forehead was exactly the way I had always heard. He looked quite shocked, but not displeased. Nervous and brave, I decided. All in all, he looked exactly like I thought he would, and I said so.
"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus. He looks exactly like James," Kingsley said.
"Except his eyes. Lily's eyes."
Never having met Lily or James, I couldn't agree, but as that was how I had heard the boy described a dozen times, I imagined he must be rather tired of it. For the millionth time, I was glad that I had no one cooing over me saying I looked like this aunt or that cousin, because I could change how I looked.
Meanwhile, Mad-Eye and Remus were ascertaining that Harry was, in fact, himself. I wasn't particularly paying attention until I caught a bit of Mad-Eye's statement.
"…Better wizards than you have lost a buttock, you know!"
"Who do you know who's lost a buttock?" I asked interestedly. That would be quite an accident.
"Never you mind," Mad-Eye barked, stomping off, muttering to himself. I rolled my eyes, a bad move with someone who can see behind their back. Oh well.
Remus began introducing people. The warm fuzzy feeling I got when he gestured towards me first evaporated as he introduced me as Nymphadora. Ugh. He corrected himself fairly quickly, with only minimal prodding from me.
I looked around the place. Everything was sparkly clean, more like a hotel than a home. Not to mention the lousy décor. There were several pictures of what at first appeared to be a small whale, and on closer inspection I deduced that this was Harry's fat cousin, Dudley.
Harry's room, when I went up to help him pack, was much homier. His clothes were all over the floor, books and papers were scattered on a desk, and his bed was not only unmade but a few of his blankets were on the floor. The mirror above the desk distracted me for a minute. I was wearing my hair purple that day, and I didn't like it at all. Purple is a very pretty color, but my hair looks much better pink. I fixed it, to Harry's astonishment.
"I'm a Metamorphamagus," I explained, aware that Harry appeared quite jealous. Who wouldn't be? It's awesome!
While the messiness gave me the warm feeling of being home, it was quite impractical for our purposes of packing. I attempted one of Mom's spells and managed to get most of his stuff into the trunk. Not very neatly, but it went in and that's the important thing, right?
I was only distracted from my goal by the sight of the most beautiful broomstick I have ever seen. Now, I'm too clumsy to be as good a flyer as Harry himself was (at least according to Remus) but somehow I had the feeling I'd be good on that thing.
Harry grinned. Quidditch apparently was the way to his heart.
Soon we were gone.
I was glad to arrive at Grimmauld Place in time for the meeting, not to mention getting out of the cold. Harry pouted, but followed Molly upstairs.
Only a few minutes into the meeting, we heard faint shouts from upstairs. Sirius started in surprise and began to move towards the door.
"Leave him be, Sirius." It was Dumbledore. "Let him get his anger out and stop asking questions now. Don't tell him more than he needs to know."
Sirius sat back down, unhappy. Remus patted his arm and whispered something I couldn't hear. The scowl on Sirius' face lessened a little, but didn't disappear.
The meeting, however, continued. We wanted to establish safe houses in other countries, and add hidden rooms charmed against Homenum Revelio to already existent houses in Britain. Bill, having tons of practice in searching for hidden rooms while tomb-hunting in Egypt, took charge of the drawings and our meeting continued, punctuated by yells from upstairs.
Dinner, as usual, was excellent. Harry, as predicted, had blown off his steam and asked no questions. Sirius, however, started the fire again, and the room was in an uproar the rest of the night.
Hey all, sorry for the amount of canon in this one. Don't worry, the interesting stuff comes next and the more reviews I get, the faster my Muse starts talking.
