To all our delightful reviewers, thanks, it's really encouraging to have your cheers! Please continue to let us know what you think. I appreciate the suggestions and, while we have something much worse in mind for poor Severus, I assure you that all suggestions will be considered. We'll let you know more about what to suggest as we go along, don't want to give too much away right now. Oh. And the chapters aren't chapters per se – more a sort of "chaplets" – we're trying for scene to scene, with occasional related snippets.

Specific replies:

Droxy: Um… yeah. :-)

MysticSong1978: A recent poll in Witch Weekly magazine found that 99.7 of all bachelor wizards living with House-elves could not cook. We were using that as our assumption factor. I'm sure he can boil water without burning the bottom, though.

Cheeki: Did that help?

Sleeping Dragons: Like a letter campaign. Only with owls.

The Bake Sale

Disclaimer: I am a writer. However, where these characters are concerned, I am not THE writer. Harry Potter and all his friends, enemies, sidekicks and situations belong to JK Rowling, she of the genius that everyone wishes was hiding in their mental cupboard under the stairs as well. And, if she wants THIS situation, it's hers as a gift. The rest of you must ask.

Chapter 4: Calling in the Cavalry

Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were sitting in the kitchen at #12 Grimmauld Place, dazed and worried at the sudden summons from Dumbledore that had brought them here, Ron and Ginny from the Burrow, Hermione from her parent's office, and Harry from Mrs. Figg's living room. When he arrived, Harry had sunk gratefully into a chair, brushing flour from his clothes and muttering under his breath.

"What happened to you, mate?" Ron asked him, surprised.

"I spent the whole morning helping Aunt Petunia. That group she's with - Society of Nosey British Housewives or some such - they're having a Bake Sale and I had to make two cakes and six dozen biscuits. She did the 'hard' part – keeping her ickle Diddykins from eating them all."

Aside from that brief glimpse of his old humor, Harry had done nothing since arriving at Headquarters but sit listlessly and look around, viewing everything with eyes that sparkled more than they should, and missing Sirius more than he had missed Hogwarts his first summer away from it.

The others watched him, even though it was painful, Ron and Hermione on either side of him, their shoulders tight against his to hold him upright, Ginny across from him, her hand stretched across the table to lay on his, silently offering him their strength as the four of them grieved the loss of a friend and life both wrecked and cut short.

Remus Lupin had been and gone, sitting literally back to back with Harry, whispering words of solace and comfort and sorrow that all seemed to help as Harry nodded and sighed and teared up and smiled. They had held each other up, something Hermione found to be astonishing, as the Professor had been very reluctant to touch Harry in the past. They had grieved together and somehow, it was what they both needed, because suddenly, Harry laughed and said, "Remember that night with Fred and George and the stew? I just noticed this." His fingers traced a deep hole in the wood of the table. "I remember the look on his face - he thought it was so funny."

They looked at him and smiled. "He loved to laugh," Harry said, finally. "He loved for people to laugh. Don't reckon he'd hold with all of this." The boy frowned again. "I'll put it aside for now," he resolved, "and I'll take it out of Voldemort later."

Ron tensed and felt the conviction, which in turn strengthened his. Wherever Harry was going, Ron would be with him, would support him, would get him there. The three of them were growing up much too fast, and some others with them. There was nothing anyone could do to change that, so all they could do was stick together and make it the best that they could anyway.

The Floo activated and Minerva McGonagall stepped out. "I'm glad you're here," she said. "We need your help."

All four of them looked at her, their faces stern, resolute, purposeful. "Anything you say, Professor," Ginny said firmly. "We're with you."

McGonagall looked at them strangely. "We need you to join us and several of your classmates at Hogwarts."

They nodded, inviting her to continue. She gave them an uneasy stare and held out a small portkey. "We're working on a project for Hogwarts and we need your assistance."

They rose to their feet and touched the portkey. "What is it, Professor?" Hermione asked nervously.

"We need assistance with a fund raiser." As the portkey activated and jerked them away, Harry heard himself sputtering with astonished indignation.