The Order and a Threat
Dinner is a cheery and loud affair, as different conversations around the table try to talk over each other. Tonks gives up on being heard when dessert is served, and instead begins to distort her nose into strange shapes.
She's doing a pig snout when I speak up. "How are you doing that?" I ask, enthralled with the show she's putting on.
I'm a Metamorphmagus," she says, changing her face back to normal. "Meaning I can change myself without the use of spells or potions."
"Can anyone learn to do that?" I ask, fascinated with the thought.
"Sorry, but no," she answers. "Metamorphmagi are born, and it's not something that can be taught."
Mrs. Weasley begins to clear plates, and I stand to help, but she simply waves her wand and the dishes all fly to the sink in a neat stack.
"Kreacher!" Sirius calls. "Get in here and clean up the dishes!"
A little door opens up beside the fireplace, and a raggedly little house-elf crawls out of the opening. Dressed in filthy rags, and spouting tufts of white hair from his ears, the little creature glares coldly at Sirius as he fetches a stepping stool to place at the sink.
"We have some talking to do, yet," Mrs. Weasley says then. "You children can go back upstairs for the night. We'll clean up the dining room tomorrow – you'll want to get a good sleep tonight."
The Weasleys all grumble and head for the door, but Harry sits stubbornly at the table. "I'm staying," he says firmly, "I have a right to know what's going on."
"You're too young," Mrs. Weasley repeats, but Sirius clears his throat.
"He should know what's happening out there," he says quietly.
"If my guardian says I can, I'm staying," Harry repeats.
Mrs. Weasley sighs in defeat and waves her arm at the rest of us. "You lot can keep moving."
"I'm staying, too," I say, "no one here has the right to make me leave."
"We're of age," Fred says, sitting back down. "If they're staying, we are, too."
"Harry will just tell us everything, anyway," Ron adds, and he and Hermione sit back down, too, to the amusement of the rest of the adults.
"Oh, alright," Mrs. Weasley says testily, giving in. "Ginny, come on up to bed. I won't have you getting involved." Ginny protests bitterly, but Mrs. Weasley is standing firm in her decision, and leads her daughter back up the stairs.
Everyone is quiet until we hear the door at the top of the stairs shut behind the pair.
"So what is Voldemort up to?" Harry asks, the first to speak.
"Dumbledore thinks he's laying low, for now – while he builds up an army," Lupin answers. "We've been trying to inform the Wizarding world about his return, but the Ministry is working to convince people of just the opposite."
"Why would they do something so stupid?" I ask incredulously.
"The Minister, Fudge, is convinced that Dumbledore is trying to overthrow him, and he's decided that Dumbledore is trying to gain influence in the hopes of overthrowing Fudge and becoming Minister himself," Mr. Weasley jumps in.
"There was great support for Dumbledore to take the job before Fudge was appointed, you know," Lupin adds. I didn't know. "Fudge has never forgotten that."
I return to the bigger picture. "And if the Ministry is telling people that nothing is wrong, they're going to want to believe it," I muse.
Sirius nods. "It certainly doesn't help that the Daily Prophet is under Ministry control, and is set on slandering Dumbledore as well as anyone known to be supporting him."
"Voldemort's got other plans as well – there are certain…weapons that he's after. Ones he didn't have during the last war." This comes from Lupin.
"Weapon?" Harry asks. "Something worse than Avada–"
Mrs. Weasley appears at the foot of the stairs and cuts him off. "I think that is quite enough information," she says, in a tone that leaves no room for argument.
"You can't tell us what to do," Fred retorts.
"Oh, yes, I can," his mother snaps. "To bed now, all of you. Ari, I've set up a bed in with Hermione and Ginny you can have."
"Thank you," I tell her, and we all stand reluctantly. The last one to reach the staircase, I turn at the last minute and look back at the group still gathered at the table.
"Bill?" His gaze snaps to mine at the sound of his name. "May I have a word with you?"
"Sure," he says, a little confused at the request. I motion for him to follow me up the stairs and out of hearing. I choose the dining room on the main level, turning to him once we're out of the hallway. He waits for me to speak, and I take a moment to study him. He's tall and slender, with hair as red as his siblings', and so handsome I can see immediately how he caught Fleur's attention. I'm surprised at the fang earring hanging from one lobe, an indicator that he's got a wild streak to him that might be good for my best friend.
"I'm getting to know your family quite well," I tell him, "and judging from that, I have no reason not to like you."
"I've only heard good things about you, too," he says easily.
I place a hand on my hip, as if to demonstrate that I mean business. "Then maybe you've heard that I've been attending Beauxbatons, until recently, and Fleur Delacour is one of my best friends. I promise you, if you break her heart, or hurt her in any way, whatever I do to you will be a thousand times worse."
"I can promise you," he replies, just as serious as I, "that I don't intend to hurt Fleur."
I study him for another moment, until I'm satisfied that his words are earnest. "On the other hand," I say, a glint of my usual humour returning, "I've always believed that Fleur needs someone who challenges her to get out and have fun. You seem like the type to help her with that."
Bill smiles at that. "She is a bit uppity, isn't she?"
"A bit?" I snort. "I'm pretty sure the Queen has more fun than Fleur. At least when I'm not around, anyway."
"I'll be sure to keep things exciting, then, while you're off at school," he promises. "Did you say you'd been at Beauxbatons until recently?"
"My transfer to Hogwarts has been approved," I nod. "The others don't know yet, so I'd appreciate if you don't say anything."
"Of course," he says. "Hogwarts will be a good place for you, I think. Can I ask you to keep an eye out for my brothers, and Ginny? Mum's always worried when they leave, but even I'm worried, what with You-Know-Who back to power. You seem to be especially close with Fred and George, and sometimes I wonder if they don't get a little carried away at times. It would put my mind at ease knowing there's someone looking out for them while they're away."
"I will," I agree. "Thanks, Bill. But don't forget my warning, either. I'm serious – no matter how much I like you, I won't let anyone hurt my friends without consequence."
"I'm counting on that," he says seriously. "I'd best be heading home, though. I've got work in the morning. I'll tell Fleur you arrived here safely. It's best to wait until you return to school to send an owl."
"Good night," I say, and we head in opposite directions – Bill to the door, and me up the stairs at the other end of the hall.
Fred and George are sitting up in the drawing room still when I pass by the doorway.
"Good talk?" George asks, keeping his eyes on a stack of papers sitting on the table.
"Don't know what you mean," I say casually, entering the room. I take a seat opposite the two.
"We saw you go off with Bill after Mum kicked us upstairs," Fred says, flipping through another stack beside him.
"Just getting to know him," I say. "I didn't know you even had another brother until today. When did you pass your Apparition exams?" I ask, changing the subject. Fred and George would be too amused with the idea of me threatening Bill, so I keep the nature of our talk to myself.
"About a month ago," Fred replies.
"Passed with flying colours," George adds. Their tones are lacking their usual good humour. Both brothers are glued to their stacks of paper. I can't see from my spot exactly what they say.
What're those about?"
"Estimations," Fred answers, a hint of frustration in his tone. "On what it'll cost to start up our business, and between buying a shop somewhere, and ingredients besides…"
"…even with Harry's Triwizard earnings, we don't have enough," George says, "no matter how we look at it."
"How much are you short?" I ask, looking at the long lists of figures they're staring at.
"Another half again of what Harry gave," Fred says grimly.
"We'll raise the funds, of course," George concedes. "It just means we will be saving for that much longer before we can really launch our business."
"Would you consider accepting a loan?" I ask quietly, picking up a sheet of parchment to view. I'm careful to avoid the word 'donation,' remembering how they shied away from it when Harry offered them the use of his winnings.
"Even if you had that sort of money to loan us, we can't accept that from you," Fred says dismissively.
"Yes, you could," I argue, "if you made me partner."
They both look away from the estimations at that. "Partner?"
"Well, if it's that terrible of a prospect, to partner with me," I say testily, "you could always buy out my share of the business once it takes off and be rid of me. At least this way, you can start up right away – or right after this year," I amend.
"Would you really?" George asks in disbelief.
I nod. "Five hundred galleons, for twenty-five percent?"
"Agreed," they say in unison, with only a little hesitation. They extend their hands to shake. I do, then stand up.
"Goodnight, then," I say, ready for bed after my long day.
"Goodnight, partner," they say cheerfully, before turning back to their papers with renewed vigour.
Out in the hallway, Sirius' house-elf is making his way towards the stairway. "Good night, Kreacher," I say politely. The elf looks at me in shock, clearly unsure as to how he should respond. I wonder if anyone bothers to stop to have a conversation with him ever. Having seen the brusque way Sirius orders him about, I doubt it.
After a moment's pause, Kreacher decides against speaking, and hurries back on his way downstairs. I slip into Hermione's and Ginny's room.
Ginny and Hermione are both asleep when I reach the room, and with a little stumbling in the unfamiliar dark room, I find my bed quite successfully, only managing to stub one of my toes in the process. I don't imagine I'll be able to fall asleep right away after all the excitement of the day, but as tired as I am, I drift off almost immediately, into a deep, dreamless slumber.