Chapter 3: Dining With Demons

Harry Potter was not a happy wizard.

His elation at getting away from Privet Drive had been replaced with the irritation of being kept unawares of the status of the wizarding world. He'd kept silent until being led to the room where Ron and Hermione were waiting, and even the warm glow of reuniting with them had been consumed by his frustrations. They'd been told to keep silent about the important things, and by Dumbledore no less, but did that excuse the overwhelming lack of any meaningful communication between them? Letters were appreciated, but couldn't they have something of substance? After all he'd been through, why was he not trusted with anything?

"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO FIND OUT WHAT'S GOING ON…"

…Some of the finer points may have been lost in translation, though, since they were being shouted at the top of his lungs.

Eventually, however, he'd calmed down enough to hear his two best friends out. They were just beginning to fill him in on what had been happening when there was a loud crack, and two grinning, red-haired boys had appeared in the room with them.

"Hello, Harry!" George said, beaming. "We thought we heard you."

"You should try for louder next time, see if you can reach the people ten miles away," Fred added, smiling as well. The effect was made slightly more absurd by the flesh-colored string dangling from his ear.

"You two passed your Apparition tests, then?" Harry growled.

"We did, and with distinction, but never mind that now." Fred looked at Ron and Hermione expectantly, removing the string. "So, what have you told him so far?"

"Not much," Harry said grumpily. "I know this place is headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix."

"You didn't tell him yet?" He looked shocked and delighted at the same time. "The Order's had some new recruits. Just made it official last night, matter of fact."

"We were getting to that!" Ron said indignantly. "Just because you two are so impatient…"

"Time is Galleons, dear brother," George said simply. "Anyway, we caught some of their, ah… 'introduction' on the old Extendables."

"Some of what?" Harry asked, forgetting some of his anger in his bewilderment.

"We don't know exactly what happened, but it was a couple of nights back. The Order members were in the middle of a meeting, and then suddenly, we heard a lot of commotion and some yelling, and then there was a lot that was hard to hear. We caught some of it, though; 'demon slaying' and 'different types of magic'. We had to scarper when they stopped the meeting in the middle, and we saw Mum show four strangers to a bedroom. We hadn't heard or seen them come in. One of them looked like he knew we were watching, but she didn't say anything about it."

"And then we had breakfast with them next morning," Fred added. "We couldn't ask them much, though; Mum put us to work elsewhere. The only times we see them now are meals, and Mum won't let us ask them any more questions."

Harry took some time to process all this information. Four strangers working for the Order of the Phoenix? Had Dumbledore contacted foreign wizards? Or perhaps they had sought him out? "What are they like?" he asked.

"Well, they talk like Americans," Hermione said, frowning. "One of them said that they were mercenaries hired by the Order. But she didn't say anything else."

"Nothing? Well, what do you know about them?"

"Well, er…there's two men and two women…and the woman who told us that, er…" Ron seemed to turn slightly pink. "She's…got these sunglasses and a weird kind of white suit…"

"Ron fancies her," Fred whispered conspiratorially to Harry.

"Do not!" Ron snapped, going redder still.

"I don't blame him, personally," Fred continued, withdrawing a handful of extra Extendable Ears from his robes. "But they all seemed…a bit strange. The men can't be much older than Bill, and yet they've both got white hair. Wouldn't answer much about themselves, either."

The door opened, and Harry recognized the form of Ron's sister, Ginny. She smiled as she saw him. "Oh, hello Harry! I thought that was your voice I heard." She turned to the twins. "You ought to be more careful listening in; Tonks hinted that Mum might put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door if she catches us."

"It's well worth the risk, especially now," Fred insisted. "I really fancy hearing one of those new blokes have another go at Snape."

"Snape?!" Harry exclaimed. "Is he here, then?"

"Yeah," George muttered. "Giving another 'top-secret' report, no doubt. Git."

"Dumbledore trusts him," Hermione insisted, "and he's on our side now."

"Still doesn't stop him from being a git," Ron responded stubbornly.

"Hey, Harry…care to take a listen with us?" Fred asked with a grin, holding one of the Extendable Ears out to him. "If the door hasn't been Imperturbed yet, no sense keeping all the fun to ourselves."

It didn't exactly erase his earlier moodiness, but it put a smile on his face all the same. "Cheers," he said, taking the offered Ear as George passed one to Ginny. They all snuck out of the room, slowly climbing down until they reached the landing just above the kitchen door. Fred, George, Ginny and Harry (following the example of the others) all inserted one end of the string into their ears and carefully began lowering the other end downward. As the strings touched the floor, they all wriggled towards the crack between the door and ground. To Harry's surprise, the voices he heard came in as clearly as if he were standing in the room himself.

"The simple fact remains that your presence cannot remain…unnoticed forever," the familiar voice of Severus Snape said. Harry scowled; even just the man's voice was difficult to tolerate.

"We'll do what we can to prepare before that time comes," a woman's voice said. "In the meantime, we can use what he doesn't know against him. If we're lucky-"

"We're never lucky," another unfamiliar voice interrupted; this one was male. "But if we're quick, we won't have to be. If we set up something here…" There was a tapping sound; no doubt he was pointing to a location on a map. "…it should keep us central relative to all the expected hotspots."

"No, that's no good," the woman's voice responded. There was a flutter of paper. "That sits right on top of a ley line. We'd have Ministry eyes on us if we so much as lit a cauldron with magic."

"Hmm…what about this location?" The familiar voice of his godfather reached him. "It's a bit further from the eastern areas, but it should give you room to maneuver."

There was a rustling of papers for some time before the woman finally spoke again. "…I think that could work. Nero, what're your thoughts?"

"Looks like if things get too rough, we've got a way out, at least. I like it."

"I don't," another man's voice cut in. "I still say we shouldn't keep it too far from-"

"Dante, we've been over this already," the woman replied testily. "There's no point getting that close. We don't need to travel everywhere in the entire country, just the areas that are most at risk for-"

Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. Thinking it might be Hermione or Ginny, he turned around, and then jumped. A beautiful woman with orange hair and white (robes? Were they robes?) clothes was standing just behind the small group. She smiled and held a finger to her lips. It seemed that Fred, George and Ginny had all taken out their Extendable Ears. He did so as well, looking at the stranger with curiosity. "Someone's doing something they're not supposed to," she whispered to them, looking at the Weasleys in particular. "I think your mother might have a fit if she knew you were eavesdropping."

"Well, then…" Fred whispered, somehow keeping an even face. "We're lucky you won't tell her. Erm…aren't we?"

Both her arm and her smile dropped. There was a tense silence before she sighed and smiled again. "I suppose so. I'd get back to your rooms if I were you, though; the meeting's almost over."

"Right you are," George said hurriedly, collecting the Ears and motioning for the rest of them to follow him back upstairs.

"And next time," she added, "you might want to make sure your door is closed when discussing your plans."


Sometime later, Harry's head was still spinning with all the information he'd been given as he and the others were heading downstairs for dinner. Percy's estrangement from the family, the mysteries of the Order of the Phoenix, the smear campaign against him and especially his upcoming hearing…it was quite a bit to take in. Harry was paying little attention to where his feet were going.

So little attention, in fact, that despite obeying Mrs. Weasley's request to be quiet in the hallway, he only noticed that Tonks had appeared in the hallway when he was an inch away from her. The two collided, each giving a cry of surprise as they toppled into an umbrella stand with the appearance of a severed troll's leg; things that, as might be imagined, were most certainly not quiet at all.

Harry's apologies, as well as those of Tonks, had barely begun before a noise even louder than the one they'd caused rang out. It was a horrible, ear-splitting screech, coming from a painting that had been behind the set of black curtains he'd seen on his arrival. The painting was of an old woman; a mad-looking woman screaming at the top of her lungs. She shrieked as if in terrible pain, yelling at all of them as other portraits began to yell out as well. "Filth! Scum! Blood traitors, Mudbloods and vermin! You defile the house of my forefathers!"

Before Harry could do much more than get himself and Tonks back to their feet, a door facing him flew open, and two men ran into the room. One was wearing robes and had long hair black as darkness, and the other was clothed in a long red coat and had messy hair that was as white as snow, yet looked no older than the first one. "SHUT UP!" the dark-haired man roared.

"YOU!" the woman in the painting screeched. "Blood traitor! Shame upon my heritage and name!"

"Shut up, you horrible old hag! Shut UP!"

"Yo!" the man in red yelled over the din. "You attached to this painting at all?"

"Not in the slightest! Do your worst!"

The white-haired man grinned, and a bundle of strange rods connected by chains to an iron ring suddenly appeared in his hand. He thrust them forward. The screams cut off abruptly. Harry stared, seeing a large block of ice covering the painting and several feet of the wall around it.

"If that's permanent, I'll give you half my gold," the black-haired man said gleefully.

"Not exactly, but I could knock this chunk of the wall out for you if you want."

He sighed. "Tempting…but I'll have to decline."

"Suit yourself. But the offer's always open, free of charge." He tucked the rods back away, turning to Harry and waving lazily. "Hey, kid. Looks like we're getting ready to eat; I'll let you two catch up." He nodded to the black-haired man, and strode off towards the kitchen.

Harry's godfather, Sirius, brushed his hair out of his eyes and grinned at him. "Hello, Harry. You've met Dante and my mother, I see."

"Your-?!"

"Mother, yeah. We've been trying to get her down for a month, but who cares about possible Permanent Sticking Charms when this solves the problem so nicely?"

"What's a portrait of your mother doing at the Order's headquarters?"

He snorted. "No one told you? This was my parents' house. Mine now, being the last Black and all. I offered it to Dumbledore to use as headquarters; the one useful thing I've managed until now." His godfather gave a sigh, shook his head, and then smiled warmly at him. "But enough of that. It's good to see you, Harry."

He led Harry into the kitchen, which to be honest was only slightly less gloomy than the rest of the house. The large kitchen table was full of assorted clutter; scrolls of parchment, ink bottles, wine bottles, lit candles, and what looked like a pile of rags. Several people were already there; the orange-haired woman from earlier was in deep discussion with an unfamiliar woman that hadn't been part of Harry's guard, while the man Sirius had called Dante was laughing with another white-haired young man. Mr. Weasley and his eldest son, Bill, were in conversation that stopped once they noticed Harry. They both greeted him, and Bill began cleaning up the parchment as Mr. Weasley shook his hand.

"Tough journey?" Bill asked, his arms laden with several scrolls. "Did Mad-Eye make you come via Greenland after all?"

"He did try," Tonks said as she entered the room. "Need help with those? Oh, no…sorry…" She'd accidentally knocked one of the scrolls into a candle, where its corner had promptly caught fire. As Mrs. Weasley moved to put the candle back and repair the parchment, Harry managed to catch a glimpse of some sort of map. Was it a building, or perhaps a map of a city? But before he could get a better look, Bill had muttered "Evanesco", and the parchment had disappeared.

"Have a seat, Harry," his godfather said, motioning to a chair. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

At these words, the pile of rags gave a start. "Someone say me name?" came the voice of Mundungus Fletcher. "I don't think it's a bad idea…" He raised his hand.

"The meeting's over, Dung."

The rags shifted, and the face of Mundungus Fletcher poked out of the top as he lowered his hand. "…So it is." He made to pull something from his pocket, but froze as his eyes met Dante's. He gave an irritated grumble and put whatever it was back. "Listen…owe you a 'pology for before. I wouldn't 'ave left, see, but there was a good business opportunity…"

"I think your shady deals need to get a little shadier," suggested the man in red. "You can't let people know where your money comes from or goes. Maybe next time-"

"There most certainly will NOT be a next time!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "Now, if you'd like dinner sometime before tomorrow, I'll need a hand."

Harry offered, but she refused, saying he'd had a long journey already. The rest of the people in the kitchen, minus the four around the table, got up and helped with dinner. Mrs. Weasley seemed happy enough for most of them, though Harry caught her shooting several worried glances at Tonks and a young man that had white hair like Dante's. Harry wasn't surprised; both had several near-accidents with the dishes, and the man kept cursing under his breath.

"Well, I'd say introductions are in order, wouldn't you?" Sirius asked with a grin. "There are a few faces you're familiar with, but apart from Dung, there're some others in the Order here. You've already met Dante."

He grinned. "Nice to finally meet ya in person, kid." He grabbed Harry's hand, giving it a powerful shake. "Sirius talks about you all the time."

His godfather smiled slightly. "The one in blue is Nero." The man in question gave him a small nod, but gave no other acknowledgement. "The young woman in white…" He blinked. "…The one with orange hair is Kyrie."

She took a break from stirring a cauldron over the fire to shake his hand as well. "A pleasure to meet you, Harry." She gave the smallest of winks, and it wasn't hard for him to spot why she was acting as if they hadn't yet met; Mrs. Weasley was watching him and Sirius suspiciously.

Having now been introduced properly, his impression of the woman was wistful; a part of him wondering if she was what having a mother would have been like. There was warmth in her kind brown eyes, yet a firmness in her handshake that spoke of quiet strength. "Hello," he said.

She nodded, and the remaining woman stepped forward from the dresser as Kyrie released his hand and returned to preparing the meal. The unfamiliar woman shifted the cutlery she was holding into her left hand and extending her right. Her hair was as black as Harry's, and her eyes were each a different colour; one red and one green. Unlike the dress Kyrie wore, this new person's outfit was made of leather, and far more revealing. Though she wore clothes as white as Kyrie's, her bearing could not have been more different; she wrung his hand with an almost painful grip, while staring at him with such scrutiny he felt as if he were being x-rayed.

"Name's Lady. Nice to meet you." And with no other pleasantries, she abruptly let go of his hand and returned to her work.

Harry sat back down; feeling, if possible, even more curious about the strange new people than before. Their talk turned to Harry's summer, which was almost as irritating to relate to Sirius as it had been to relate to Ron and Hermione. He didn't shout, though, so that was good progress.

Sirius gave him a wry smile when he finished his story, saying that he envied Harry's chance for going outside and experiencing a life-or-death struggle. Harry felt too relieved to be away from the Dursleys to object to his godfather's statement. He also couldn't help but notice Sirius brought Dumbledore's name up in a less-than-pleased tone, which brought a surge of affection up in him that quelled his anger.

"…and until the last few days, the only company I've had on a consistent basis are my mother's mad painting and our old elf, and he's…" He gave a furtive glance towards Dante. "Say, would you be interested in-"

"I'm not putting your elf in an ice cube," he said, frowning in disapproval. "Non-sentient or demon-blooded only; it's in my contract."

"Oh yes, I forgot about that one," he replied, equal parts disappointed and bemused. "Well, what about the time you tried to make ice cream with it?"

The man fidgeted. "Yeah, well, that was an emergency case."

"Us not having strawberry sundaes constitutes an emergency?"

"Sirius?" Mundungus interrupted, holding an expensive-looking silver goblet. "This solid silver, mate?"

"Yes," he replied, giving a curt description of its history in the same manner a bored student would recite lines. "Finest fifteenth century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"Hmm…that'd come off, though," Mundungus muttered, looking longingly at the goblet.

"If it does, something else comes off," Dante warned, patting the grip of his sword for effect.

Mundungus gulped, setting the goblet back down and moving ever-so-slightly away from it, muttering under his breath. " 'Least I'm not the one who nearly turned this place into a sodding snowstorm…"

"NO, JUST CARRY THEM!"

They barely had time to react when several things came flying into the room; on instinct, the Devil Hunters reacted. Nero caught a large, stew-filled cauldron with both arms and an "Oof!", but nevertheless successfully. Lady snatched an iron flagon of butterbeer out of the air just before it would have hit her in the nose. Kyrie grabbed a loaf of bread that had sailed towards her. Dante got hit in the stomach with a wooden breadboard, grabbed two bottles of firewhiskey before they could go past him, and then had a large bread knife go straight into his neck.

The room went silent with shock, the handle of the knife quivering slightly from its place in Dante's neck. He set the bottles he'd caught on the table to free up his hands, and then casually pulled the knife out. "Ahh, that reminds me of when I was six…" he said, with a nostalgic air. Clearing his throat, he said "Oh, boys! I hope that wasn't intentional!"

Fred and George looked somewhere between appalled and curious as they came into the room. "Well…no…" George muttered, looking everywhere but forward.

"Just…saving time…" Fred added lamely.

Nero set the cauldron down, sighing. " 'The rash rush, and risk ruin.' That's what Credo always-" He broke off suddenly, and both he and Kyrie went somewhat rigid.

"Let's eat!" Harry insisted with forced vigor.

"I'll clean that off," Lupin said hurriedly, pointing his wand at the knife; the blood disappeared moments later.

No one said anything for a few minutes, the only sounds being the clatter of silverware and sipping of stew. Eventually, however, Mr. Weasley struck up a conversation with Lupin, and the rest of them followed in turn. Harry, for his part, had his focus jump from one conversation to the next as he ate. It was difficult to keep track of all the different topics; goblin politics, the Auror office, Dung's less-than-legal exploits, a boggart that might be in the drawing room, and something about building code laws.

Then, too, there was some in-meal entertainment to consider: Tonks was transforming her nose into all manners of shapes, and Nero and Dante were taking turns to steal each other's food at least once a minute. It lasted for nearly fifteen minutes until each of the white-haired men tried to use their forks to claim a slice of bread from the other's plate; at that point, Lady stepped in before a scuffle could break out (Harry half-expected for them to fight using their forks like small knives, though he wasn't sure why).

Through the main course and the pudding, Harry felt his worries begin to fade, the pleasant atmosphere and delicious food to credit for a relaxed feeling that overtook him. Still, time would never slow down even for the most wonderful of feasts, and soon the hour had grown very late indeed.

"Nearly time for bed, I think." Mrs. Weasley stretched and yawned.

"Not just yet, Molly," said Sirius, fixing Harry with a look. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I expected the first thing you'd do once you'd stepped through the door was start asking questions about Voldemort."

The formerly peaceful atmosphere tensed, and all the adult wizards were no longer looking relaxed or content, but alert. Dante's eyes had narrowed, Nero's arms became covered in something like shells that had glowing red light coming from them, and Lady had inched her hand closer to one of her knives.

"I did!" Harry asserted. "I asked Ron and Hermione, but they said they couldn't tell me anything because we weren't in the Order-"

"And they're quite right!" Mrs. Weasley interrupted, sitting bolt upright in her chair. "You're far too young to be in the Order."

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius countered. "Harry's been stuck in that Muggle house for a month, he's got a right to know what's happening-"

"Hang on!" George said, outraged. "We're older than he is!"

"And you never answered our questions all month," Fred cut in. "We're of age, we should know-"

A loud whistle interrupted all of them. They all turned to look at Nero. "Sorry, but it's getting a little late to be shouting. Show of hands, who's still going to school?" It took a moment, but all of the Hogwarts students raised their hands; Fred and George looked somewhat mutinous. "Let's put it this way. Would you trust your life to a half-finished wand?"

"Now just a minute-"

Nero held up his left arm to silence Ron's outburst. Ron, seeing the appendage pulse bright red, fell silent. "No, you don't. You trust a finished wand. It doesn't matter which one's more powerful, can do more spells, or has more battle experience. The finished one is in full control of itself. Because of that, everything else flows directly from it; power, speed, skill and defense."

Molly blinked, surprised at the unexpected support. "Er…thank you, Nero. That's an excellent point."

"Someone important taught me that." True, that someone had been talking about swords rather than wands, but the basic idea translated over.

"Perhaps it might be wise," Lupin suggested calmly, "to give them a general picture of the situation. After all, how can anyone learn control if they don't have a chance to understand their limits? Better to give a clear picture from ourselves, than a distorted one from…others."

There was silence for a time, and Harry had a feeling Kyrie might not be the only one to have caught onto the Extendable Ears.

"Can't keep them in the dark forever," Dante suggested. "Give 'em a warning now, so they know what to prepare for."

"Well…all right," Mrs. Weasley growled. "I can see I'm going to be outvoted, so let me just say this: as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart-"

"Harry's not a child. He's not your son, Molly." Sirius's voice was quiet.

"He's as good as!" she insisted. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got all of us," Lady interjected as Sirius prepared to retort. "Sirius included. We all have his best interests at heart, but speaking for him isn't going to solve anything. If he is like a son to you, then trust him." Mrs. Weasley stared defiantly at her, but did not respond. "Let's hear what he has to say about this." She nodded at Harry.

"I want to know what's going on," he responded instantly. As touched as he was to hear Mrs. Weasley call him as good as a son, Sirius was right. He was not a child.

His godfather nodded, trying to turn so that Mrs. Weasley couldn't see his look of approval. "Okay, then. What do you want to know?"

Harry was torn between asking about the strangely-dressed Americans and Voldemort. Still, between the two, he was relatively sure that the odd strangers weren't trying to kill him…yet. "Where's Voldemort? What's he doing?"

Sirius gave him a wry smile. "If we knew that, we'd have him and his little fanclub sorted. Believe me, we'd like to know just as much as you."

"He hasn't been on the Muggle news; no funny deaths or anything. Why not?"

"Because there haven't been any funny deaths. Not that we know of, anyway, and trust me, we know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do, anyway," Lupin added.

"I don't suppose it's because he's bored with killing people," Harry muttered darkly.

"No," Sirius agreed. "Actually, it's because he can't. Or rather, not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because of you."

That surprised him. "Me? Why me?"

"From what we can tell, his little comeback party didn't turn out quite like he'd hoped," Dante chuckled, and he gave a proud look that was mirrored by Sirius and Lupin.

"Simply put, you weren't supposed to survive," clarified Sirius. "Nor was Dumbledore supposed to know that he'd returned. And, well…here we are."

They went on to explain things in a bit more detail; general things they were trying to do, and things they were trying to stop Voldemort doing, but none of it gave him the slightest idea of what exactly the Order was responsible for doing. He had the feeling Mrs. Weasley was itching to stop the conversation, so rather than press his luck, he decided to ask his other question. "And…those four?" He nodded towards Dante's group.

Sirius chuckled. "Ah. Them."

"Gee, thanks…" Dante muttered.

"They're…shall we say, 'independent contractors'."

"He means we're the official ass-kicking squad," Nero said in a stage whisper.

"NERO!" Mrs. Weasley snapped indignantly.

"…Sorry. But you get the idea." He didn't dare look Mrs. Weasley in the eyes, especially as everyone else had given a snort of laughter.

"…He's not exactly wrong," Sirius continued, hiding his grin from Ron's mum. "They've been inducted into the Order to do a few things for us that we…might not have done otherwise."

"Like what?" asked Harry.

"Sirius…" Mr. Weasley warned.

Harry's godfather frowned, clearly looking to rephrase whatever he'd been about to say. "Like…things that we can't afford to be seen doing. Things that they have experience with. While they work on those things, it gives us more time to investigate what the Death Eaters are planning. It's been especially helpful, now that we know Voldemort is after-"

"That's enough." Mr. Weasley's tone was calm, but firm. "While I appreciate the need for putting everyone on their guard, giving too much information could have the opposite effect."

Sirius nodded, a reluctant yet agreeing look on his face. "Safety first, of course."

"Well, then," Mrs. Weasley said, staring around at the lot of them. "You've been up long enough, and you'll need to be up early in the morning tomorrow. Bed. Now!"


"So…what d'you reckon?" Ron asked as they lay in their beds upstairs.

Harry knew what he meant. "About what they're up to, you mean?"

There were two small popping sounds. "OW!" Ron yelped, his voice slightly muffled.

"Shh!" Fred hissed. "Keep it down, or Mum'll be in here in two shakes of a Crup's tail."

"You Apparated on my head!"

"Yes, well, it's dark and we needed a big target. Have you got there yet?"

"We were just talking about what Sirius said about the Americans," Ron grumbled as they climbed off him. "Before you two fell on me."

"Sorry, little bro. But we just couldn't wait; that's more than we've got from the Extendables before," George informed him. "Quite a useful little tidbit of information, wouldn't you say?"

"I'd say," Fred agreed. "Now, just what could four American wizards do that the Order can't?"

"I'm curious about what Voldemort's after, too," Harry said, ignoring the sharp intakes of breath around him. "It must be important, if the Order wants to focus all their efforts on stopping it."

"You think the new four are hit-wizards for the Order?" Ron suggested. "Trying to hunt down Death Eaters and thin You-Know-Who's army? That'd sure make the Order's job easier."

There was a pause as they pondered all the information individually. Personally, Harry thought Ron might have a point; Voldemort was still dangerous alone, but the less people on his side the better.

There was a creak on the steps below. "Mum," Fred whispered in warning.

"She just doesn't trust us," George sighed. "Can't imagine why not." There was a quiet pop, and Harry and Ron hurriedly pretended to be asleep as the door opened the smallest crack, a flickering light visible outside it. The door closed, and the light faded as they heard Mrs. Weasley going up the stairs.

"Well, I guess we can think about it more in the morning," Ron whispered. "'Night."

Harry was so sure that, with his mind as active as it was, he wouldn't be able to sleep at all. Not to mention, he was determined to resolve the mysteries of the newcomers and the Order's secret dealings. It was so much excitement compared to the dull summer prior, and his delight to be back in the wizarding world only increased the excitement even more.

So it was somewhat of a surprise that, a mere five minutes later, he had promptly fallen asleep.