Chapter 39. Peace and War
Clara never thought that it would be a relief to be going home for the summer, not when Hogwarts was always so lively and invigorating. But this summer it was. Grimmauld Place was the same it always was, homey and warm, with people coming and going—more this summer than ever before now that an ever-growing number of American witches and wizards were arriving in London, along with whatever recruits they were rustling up from all over the world.
Clara was busy every day helping out, cooking for the houseguests, and cleaning out rooms that had been shut up since long before she and her family had moved in. She was grateful for the busyness, since it made her think far less about Cedric. She had a sneaking suspicion that it was this exact motivation which kept Lily asking Clara to do things.
Lily was much recovered from the curse she had received, but Clara feared she might never get back to one-hundred percent. Molly Weasley could always be seen bustling around, doing the chores that Lily would have been doing at this time a year ago. And Lily didn't leave for missions like she used to.
The whole Weasley family became more than regulars at Grimmauld Place; they were practically living there. Ron, it seemed, was off at one of his mates' houses, but which one Clara did not care enough to ask. The rest of the Weasley children were living there, though. A camp bed had been set up for Ginny in Clara's room, and as such the two had begun spending real time together again for the first time since they were little kids. It was nice to have someone to fly with again, since Sirius was almost always too busy these days.
Still, it was a relief when Hedwig swooped in her bedroom window one afternoon with her regular correspondence from Derek (who in general was much more reliable about answering his mail than Romilda was, though she'd been better this summer) with this note attached:
Clara—
My mum says if you don't arrive to spend the rest of summer with our family quite soon she'll have to march over to your house and collect you. I've tried to explain about your house being hidden by magic, but she's hearing none of it. Anyway, Clara, just come as soon as you can. Romilda's coming in two days, after she gets back from her holiday in Italy (I don't know how much she's written you but it doesn't sound like she's having much fun.) My sisters are dying to meet both of you.
Mum says don't worry about doing your school shopping beforehand, she's happy to take all of us together to Diagon Alley.
Miss you.
See you soon,
Derek
Clara put the letter down and instantly began packing. She couldn't see Lily saying no to a trip out to see Derek's remarkably normal family in a small town in the English countryside. She couldn't wait to see Derek and Romilda again. She had missed them terribly.
It was a quiet afternoon in Grimmauld Place, with no Order meeting scheduled for that day, so the only people there were the ones that lived there, and while this number had grown considerably over the past months, it was a large enough house that it was able to seem empty, especially in comparison with its normally bustling atmosphere.
Clara trotted down the stairs and began looking for Lily, Remus, or Sirius to give her permission to leave for Derek's.
She found Sirius in the War Room alone, going over some papers with a frown on his face.
"Hi," Clara said from the door so as not to sneak up on him, but Sirius jumped anyway and turned to her.
"Clara!" he said, and Clara watched his frown disappear with a soaring feeling in her belly because she was the reason for his smile. "Come on in!"
Clara slid into the chair beside his and looked at the papers. "Ward reinforcements?" she asked. "Are these for Hogwarts?"
"They're for everywhere we still call ours," Sirius answered. "Hogwarts, here, the Burrow, the other homes of the members of the Order... Now some more in America..."
"That's a lot of work," Clara said.
"And not enough people to do it," Sirius said, nodding. "That's my puzzle today. I don't know why they decided to give me this task. It means I have to use my brain."
"And that could be problematic since you don't have one," Clara said, a serious look on her face.
Sirius pouted at her. He shoved the papers toward her. "You figure it out then," he said.
Clara giggled. "Aren't these...I don't know...classified or something?"
"No," Sirius said. "Not these. Doesn't matter if Voldemort knowsabout who made the wards as long as he can't get past them."
"You never used to let me see anything about the Order," Clara marveled, tracing a hand over the parchment.
"Well, you're a bit older now," Sirius said. "And...circumstances have changed." He looked very sad for a moment, and then shook himself. "You could be backed into a fight any day, you already have been. Your mum and Moony and I won't always be there to protect you, and it's time you had some general background knowledge about what we do here."
"General knowledge," Clara nodded, needing to forcibly restrain herself from laughing.
"Other than what you've already gathered from eavesdropping on meetings, I mean," Sirius said casually, and Clara quieted immediately, pasting an innocent look on her face. "Oh, drop the act, Clara, I taught you that face. Though, by Merlin, you seem to have very much improved in its execution."
"So does that mean I'm going to be learning real spells this year?" Clara asked. "Ones I can use against Voldemort if I have to?"
Sirius stopped smiling at her. "We actually seem to be having some issues with that," he said. "Your Defense professor may not be about the most...hands-on approach."
"What?" Clara asked, puzzled.
Sirius shook his head. "I can't say more than that, Clara, I'm sorry. I don't know much more than that, anyway, Dumbledore's keeping it very close after he accidentally hired a psychopath last year," he said, and then he grinned again. "So what can I help you with? Or did you just come down to chat?"
"No, I just got a letter from Derek asking me to come and stay with him," Clara said, holding out the letter. "Am I allowed to go?"
"I don't see why not," Sirius said, and scanned the letter. "Seems perfectly in order to me. As long as you are very careful and vigilant. Being out in the Muggle world should be just as safe as being here with us. But ask your mum, she'll have the final word."
"Where is she?" Clara asked. "I was looking for her earlier."
"And you found me instead," Sirius finished for her. "I feel like I should be insulted."
Clara giggled and stood up. "You should be."
"Fine, I am."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Clara laughed and raced back into his arms, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Love you, Padfoot," she said, drawing away.
"I love you, too, sweetheart."
Clara ducked out of the War Room to find her mother and make plans to go to Derek's.
Since Clara's family often functioned in a rather disorganized fashion, it wasn't until two days later that Clara actually boarded a train to get to Derek's hometown. From her correspondence with Romilda, she discovered that she would be arriving only a couple of hours before Romilda arrived from Italy.
Framlingham was an unassuming little town. The shuttle from the train station dropped Clara off at the town square, the lone passenger, with her trunk and owl. The locals stared at Clara but she ignored their gaze. She stopped one passing woman with a child hanging on one arm and a wicker shopping basket on the other. "Could you tell me where Fairfield Road would be?" she asked.
The woman smiled pleasantly. "Just that way," she said, pointing, "and hang a right. You'll see the sign from there."
"Thanks," Clara said, hefting one end of her trunk with one hand and Hedwig's cage with the other. The woman cast her an appraising look, and Clara was sure to bet that stories of a strange girl with even stranger luggage would flood the town soon enough.
She was just thankful that she had thought to change into Muggle clothes before beginning her journey.
She quickly located the correct street, paved with cobblestones and with many quaint cottages lining the road. Derek's was number 327, and Clara soon found herself standing in front of it. A little girl with Derek's sandy hair flew out the front door, along the path and through the front gate. "Hi!" she said excitedly. "Are you Clara or Romilda? Issat your owl? She's pretty. Derek doesn't have an owl, but Mummy and Daddy say maybe he can have one soon. I like your hair."
Clara smiled, slightly overwhelmed by this exuberant greeting.
"Beth, dear, don't bother Derek's friend," said a voice from the door, and a pleasant-looking, plump woman with brown hair that had a streak of grey came out onto the front step.
"It's all right, Mrs. Easton," Clara said, and stooped down to talk to Derek's sister and held out her hand to shake the tiny and slightly pudgy hand of the girl's. "I'm Clara," she said. "This is my owl; her name is Hedwig, and you can pet her when we get inside if you like."
The little girl beamed. "I'm Beth," she said. "You should be my friend insteada Derek's."
"How about if I'm both your friends?" Clara asked seriously.
Beth pouted. "Okay," she said. "You're sleeping in my room, though! Come with me, I'll show you!" Beth tugged on Clara's hand and brought her inside the house.
"Now wait just one moment, Beth," said Mrs. Easton, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Then she held out her arms to Clara and gave her a hug. "Welcome, dear," she said. "Derek's told us so much about you I feel I already know you."
Clara smiled. "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Easton."
Another girl, this one a darker brunette like her mother came forward and held out her hand importantly. She looked to be about eight. "I'm Meghan," she said. "That's my sister Lydia." She indicated the girl at the top of the stairs, perhaps about ten. Lydia waved. "We're Derek's little sisters."
"So I assumed," Clara said, holding back a laugh. Beth had yet to let go of her hand. "Where is he, by the way?"
"Oh, you don't want him," Meghan said, wrinkling her button nose. "He's boring. I'm much more fun."
"I'll bet you are," Clara agreed. "I'd still like to see him, though. He around?"
"I'm here," said another voice at the top of the stairs, and Derek appeared behind Lydia, putting a hand on her shoulder to keep from startling her. He came down the stairs and Clara gave him an awkward hug, with one hand still attached to his youngest sister.
"Ooh, Derek's got a girlfriend," Meghan taunted.
Derek flushed bright red. "Shut up, Meghan," he said. "She's not my girlfriend."
"Yes, she is!"
"Meghan!" Mrs. Easton said firmly, and Meghan subsided. "Be nice to your brother."
"Lydia thinks she's his girlfriend," Meghan said, looking up to the older girl for confirmation.
Lydia smiled teasingly but, casting a glance at her brother, shook her head. "No, she's not," she said kindly.
"C'mon," Derek said, shooting Lydia a grateful look and grabbing Clara's trunk. "You and Romilda are staying in Beth's room."
Clara detached herself from Beth with promises to play with her later and picked up Hedwig's cage to follow Derek. As they passed Lydia on the landing, Clara held out a hand, shifting Hedwig's cage to her hip. "Clara," she introduced. "Nice to meet you."
Lydia smiled pleasantly and shook her hand and then took it away and glanced at Derek. "Pleased to meet you, too," she said. "I hope my brother doesn't make too much trouble for you when you're at school together."
"Hey!" Derek protested.
Clara laughed. "He does," she told Lydia, "but I give him plenty of trouble, too."
"Good on you," Lydia said. She exchanged a grin with a surprising amount of mischief in it with Clara before disappearing into the first door of the hallway.
"Don't let her fool you," Derek said. "She's not as quiet as she seems when you first meet her. She can be a real troublemaker."
"She left so quickly," Clara said, frowning after her as Derek led her down the hall. "I hope I didn't make her uncomfortable."
Derek grinned. "Lydia doesn't get uncomfortable," he said. "None of my sisters do."
"They're all very sweet," Clara said, putting Hedwig's cage down in the tidy, sunlit room at the end of the hall. Two beds had been made up. "Where will Beth sleep if Romilda and I are in here?" Clara asked. "There are only two beds."
"Oh, Mum wouldn't make you share with Beth," Derek said. "She talks in her sleep. She's going in with Lydia and Meghan for the couple weeks you two are here."
"I hate putting anyone out," Clara fretted.
"Shut up," Derek said. "My sisters are thrilled you're here. And as to them being sweet, let's see if you think that in about two days."
"Are any of them witches?" Clara wanted to know.
Derek shrugged. "We don't think so," he said. "None of them have ever done anything magical like I did when I was younger. Actually, finding out I was a wizard explained a lot."
"Oh, yeah, like what?" Clara asked, grinning.
"I may've..." Derek trailed off for a moment as though deliberating the wisdom of his next words. "Set the house on fire once or twice," he finished very fast and all in one breath.
Clara laughed aloud. "Well, which is it, Derek, once, or twice?"
Derek muttered something practically inaudible, but it sounded to Clara an awful lot like "Four times." In any case, it was enough to set Clara laughing like a maniac and Derek blushing bright red.
Clara met Pokey, the family dog, who was a pit bull and about the sweetest dog Clara had ever met, including Padfoot.
As soon as Derek's father Jim had come home from work, the family sat down to dinner.
It was a real, proper, sit-down dinner that Clara was unaccustomed to, living in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix where everyone ate only when they had the time and sit-down meals were becoming more and more hard to come by.
At the Easton dinner table, everyone sat around the table, said grace—which Clara had only ever heard stories of before and never actually seen—and passed the dishes around in an orderly fashion. Clara, used to the pell-mell of attempting to get to the dishes before Sirius ate them all, was thoroughly unnerved, but found herself enjoying herself anyway.
Beth tugged on her sleeve. "Want more pot roast?" she asked offering up the heavy dish with her small little hands, and Clara spotted the danger in just enough time to keep the plate and the meat from crashing to the floor.
"Thanks, Beth," Clara said with a smile, and took another piece before offering the plate to Meghan, seated on her other side.
"So, Clara," Mr. Easton began, setting down his knife and fork. "Derek tells us that you live in London?"
"Yes, sir," Clara answered, sitting up straight and facing him.
"I used to work there," Mr. Easton said, "but when Lorelei and I married we decided a smaller town was better for our family. Whereabouts in London?"
Clara winced. "That's actually all I can tell you, sir," she said. "We've got a charm on the house—it's called a Fidelity Charm—and it makes it so that only one person can tell you where the house is, and I'm not that person."
Mr. Easton looked interested. "How does magic like that work?" he said wonderingly.
Clara bit her lip and shrugged. "I've got no idea," she said. "Probably Professor Dumbledore could explain the principles of magic, but I certainly can't."
"They call it 'magic' for a reason, Jim," Mrs. Easton said, laying a hand on her husband's arm.
"So who is the person who can tell us where you live?" Meghan piped up.
"Meghan!" scolded Mrs. Easton. "I don't think Clara wants to answer—"
"No, that's all right," Clara said. "You couldn't get it out of him anyway, the magic doesn't work like that. He could only tell you if he wanted to. And I trust you all. Our secret keeper is Sirius, my..." Clara trailed off, trying as usual to think of a way to describe her relationship with Sirius. "...erm..."
The whole family stared at her.
The doorbell rang at precisely that moment and Pokey leapt to his feet, barking like mad, and raced out through the dog flap.
There was a sound of a scream from outside and Derek and Clara leapt to their feet, recognizing the scream instantly.
Mr. and Mrs. Easton also got to their feet and hurried toward the door, but Clara and Derek only exchanged a grin and said at the same time, "Romilda."
By the time they and Derek's sisters had made it to the front door, Pokey had been restrained, but Romilda was still lying in the dust with her trunk, looking disheveled with her robes dusty and in disarray.
Derek helped her up and Clara brushed her off, and by the time they stood there, staring at each other after not seeing each other for over a month, the first thing out of Romilda's voice was—
"I think I started a riot in your town."
Clara and Derek glanced at each other, and then up and down Romilda's wizardwear-clad frame and doubled over laughing.
"It's not funny!" Romilda said. "I couldn't get anyone to talk to me, and then one of your Muggle Aurors—"
"Police officers," Derek interrupted.
"—whatever—came over and told me that my attire was inappropriate and that people thought I was in some kind of cult. He told me to change into normal clothing or he would have to take me in, and I said, 'in where?' and he said, 'into the station,' and I didn't know what that was but I knew I didn't want to go there and I didn't have any Muggle clothes so I ran away, and then he ran after me and yelled for others to grab me and everyone was yelling and now—am I going to be arrested?" Romilda said.
Clara, who had managed to contain herself for most of Romilda's tale, giggled a bit again.
Mrs. Easton bustled forward. "Of course not, dear," she said. "We won't let that happen." She wrapped Romilda in a hug, and Romilda stiffened in surprise and looked like she didn't know how to react. "Are you hungry?"
Romilda seemed slightly shell-shocked as Derek's mother put an arm around her and guided her up to the house. Meghan excitedly took her hand. "Come on!" she said. "If Beth is taking Clara then I get to have you for my friend!"
Romilda stared at her, bemused.
"Are you Derek's girlfriend?" Meghan went on happily. "He talks about you, too."
Romilda frowned at Derek. "You told them I'm your girlfriend?" she demanded as Meghan dragged her away.
"NO!" Derek shouted, hitting himself in the face with his palm. "Why did I think this was a good idea?"
"Because we would have killed you if we didn't get to meet your friends," Lydia reminded him, clapping him on the shoulder. She took Beth's hand. "Come on," she said to the little girl. "It would be impolite to make Derek's friend eat all by herself, wouldn't it? Who's for seconds?"
Clara laughed and followed the family back into the house, Pokey at her heels. Derek's family was so absurdly normal it was hard to accept.
"Clara?"
Clara rolled over in her bed, making a small noise in her throat. "Go t'sleep, Romilda," she muttered, considering the effort it would take to pull her pillow over her head and deciding it to be too much.
"Isn't Derek's family odd?" Romilda asked, kicking Pokey slightly, who had taken up residence on the end of her bed and was snoring. He had apparently taken a liking to the girl despite her barely even tolerant attitude toward him.
Clara frowned, puzzled, as Romilda's words filtered through her fuzzy brain. She sat up slightly. "What?"
"I mean..." Romilda said. "They're so...loud. And...friendly."
"Yeah, 'Mil, I think that's normal," Clara said. She laughed. "Not that I know anything about normal."
"Oh," Romilda said softly.
"Why would you think that's odd?" Clara asked.
Romilda was quiet a moment, and Clara almost thought she'd drifted off to sleep. "Because," Romilda said finally, "that's not how it is at my house. It's quiet. No one talks to each other except to scold, really."
Clara was quiet.
"And they hug and stuff a lot," Romilda said. "The Vanes don't touch."
Clara imagined a life in which Lily didn't sweep her into a hug every day, and Padfoot never swung her up into his arms, and Moony never tugged on her hair just annoy her. She shivered slightly at the thought. "Romilda," she said seriously, "it's a wonder that you turned out halfway normal."
Romilda laughed softly. "Yeah," she said. "I tell myself that every day."
"Romilda?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'll give you a hug or talk to you anytime you want," Clara said.
Through the darkness of the room, Clara could practically hear Romilda's sheepish smile. "Thanks," said Romilda.
There were five heartbeats of silence, with only Pokey's snores filling the room.
Then Romilda said, "Wait, d'you want to hug now?"
"Do you?"
"...No."
"Oh, me neither."
Another few seconds of quiet.
"Okay. Good night."
"Good night, Romilda. Sweet dreams."
"Sleep tight. Don't let the Lethifolds eat you."
"Lethifolds? Sweet Merlin, Romilda, how bad was your childhood?"
Clara was awakened the next morning by a bundle of energy leaping up onto her bed. "Morningmorningmorning!" said a little voice as Beth bounced up and down on her bed. "Mummy's making waffles, getupgetupgetup!"
Clara groaned and rolled over. "Five more minutes," she grumbled.
Someone whisked her bedcovers off of her, and Clara shrieked. She heard Romilda receiving the same treatment across the room. Clara sat up and faced Lydia, who was holding her bedcovers in one hand and grinning at her. "Good morning," Lydia said.
"Give those back here, you little—" Romilda growled grabbing hold of her blankets, which Meghan was holding tightly to. They grappled for a moment and Romilda tumbled off the bed from the force, only to overpower Meghan with sheer size.
Clara laughed and got up, finally beginning to sense why Derek often acted fed up with his little sisters. They were quite a handful.
Pulling on her dressing gown so that she was clad in the same way as the three sisters, Clara allowed Beth to take her hand. "Waffles, you said?" she queried, and Beth instantly began chatting away about how her mother made the best waffles on the planet.
Clara listened quietly as Meghan dragged Romilda downstairs beside her, still looking sleepy, probably as a result of the time change she'd had yesterday evening.
Derek was already in the kitchen and Mr. Easton was giving his wife a kiss goodbye before he went off to work.
No sooner had they walked into the kitchen than Mrs. Easton began issuing orders. "Lydia, sweetheart, get started on the orange juice over there. Meghan, Beth, set the table for seven please. Romilda, help Derek out with the eggs, and Clara, you can come over here and help me stir the batter," she said. "Yesterday you were guests—today, you're just part of the family, with all that entails."
Romilda was staring at Mrs. Easton as though she were crazy, but Clara just grinned and began to pitch in. With seven pairs of hands working, breakfast was done quickly, and they all settled down to eat.
After breakfast, Clara, Derek, and Romilda went out to the huge fields behind his house and ran and shouted to their hearts' content. Around noon, they opened up the picnic Mrs. Easton had sent with them and ate it, sprawled in the clean, sweet-smelling long grass.
"I can't imagine living here," Clara said, gazing around at the wide open spaces and the sheep grazing a ways away from them.
"It's a good place to grow up," Derek agreed, taking a bite from his sandwich.
Romilda laid back and gazed up at the clouds. "It's so peaceful," she marveled. She pointed up into the sky. "Look, I see a bunny rabbit."
This inspired a game of cloud-watching, which continued on into the afternoon until Lydia, Meghan, and Beth ambushed them with water pistols. Once Romilda, Clara, and Derek had armed themselves, the game was on, and it lasted them until dinnertime.
It was in this manner that the friends fell into a routine, and the last weeks of summer drifted past them in a blur of playing, swimming, climbing trees, picnicking, shouting, and laughing.
But perhaps the best thing about the Easton home was that it was easy to forget the war and all that it entailed for Clara and her friends and family.
Derek's parents didn't much like Diagon Alley. They said that they felt that everyone was staring at them all the time, and it was more or less true, what with their Muggle clothes and mannerisms attracting attention at every turn. And so on that particular day, Mrs. Easton dropped Derek, Clara, and Romilda off in front of the Leaky Cauldron before speeding off to do her own shopping in London.
"Shopping on your own, Potter?" said Tom the barman, who had been seeing Clara come through the Leakey Cauldron with her family since she was tiny.
"Just me and my mates, yeah," Clara said.
"Best be careful then," Tom said, and then glanced around at the mostly empty bar (it being around nine o'clock in the morning.) "Never know who's around, do ya?"
Clara nodded and gripped her wand tightly inside her robes, glad that she was once more in a place where she could use it if she had to without getting expelled from Hogwarts. She glanced at her friends. "Come on," she said, and they went into the back alley and into Diagon Alley.
People didn't linger on the streets in Diagon Alley, not like the stories Mum, Padfoot and Moony told of the days before the war had begun. As a child, Clara had barely noticed the mistrustful glances and head-down, mind-your-own-business attitude of most of the shoppers and shopkeepers in Diagon Alley, but either they were getting worse or Clara was just getting old enough to notice such things.
"Gringotts?" Romilda asked, and the other two nodded.
Derek changed the Muggle money his parents had given him into Galleons and Sickles at the desk, and then it was off to the vaults for Romilda and Clara's respective money collection.
Clara's vault was the first stop. Clara scooped an armful of Galleons and Sickles, as well as a few Knuts, into her money bag. She jangled the bag experimentally. "Sounds about right," she said. "Hopefully Madam Malkin hasn't raised robes prices again."
"No, didn't you see?" Romilda said. "She's got a back-to-Hogwarts sale on."
Clara nodded, satisfied. "Perfect then. Let's go."
At Romilda's vault, she swept a pile of Galleons into her bag, and the goblin held out a hand. "Miss Vane," he said. "Your restrictions."
"I haven't gone over!" Romilda argued. "Have I?"
"Sorry, what restrictions?" Derek interrupted.
"My parents have set a limit on how much money I can withdraw from the family vault," Romilda snarled.
"Your limit is sixty Galleons," the goblin said snidely. "Orders of Master and Mistress Vane."
"I know my limit," Romilda growled at him. "How much did I take, then?"
"Sixty one Galleons, four Sickles," the goblin told her.
"That's not much over," Clara said. "Couldn't you let it slide?"
The goblin stared at her.
"No, never mind," Romilda said, and took two Galleons out of her bag and threw them unceremoniously on the gold-laden floor. "Let's go."
When they were back out in the open air, Derek asked, "Why'd your parents set a limit, 'Mil?"
Romilda stared at him. "You're kidding, right?" she said. "They wouldn't trust me with the coal from their fires, let alone their precious gold."
"That's ridiculous," Clara protested as they headed to Flourish and Blotts.
"Eh, not really," Romilda said airily. "When I was seven I ran away from home and pulled out four hundred Galleons and used them to buy an international Portkey to America."
Derek and Clara gaped at her. "When you were seven?" repeated Clara at the same time that Derek said, "An international Portkey?"
Romilda grinned at their reactions and nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I didn't get to go, unfortunately, the Ministry wizards wouldn't let me go without a chaperone or parental consent since I was so young."
"What, your parents didn't come after you?" Clara asked.
"No," Romilda answered. "Are you kidding? The only one who noticed I was gone was our house-elf, Miggy."
Derek said something in answer to this, but Clara stopped listening and grabbed three copies of Defensive Magical Theory off a shelf of Flourish and Blotts, flipping through it vaguely. "Should be interesting," she said.
"Theory?" Romilda repeated, taking one copy from Clara. "That's never interesting."
Clara made a face and glanced again through the book. "You could be right," she responded. "Have to keep an open mind, though."
Derek wandered away and came back clutching his Arithmancy book (Incantation or Integer?: The Study of Numbers and Magic Together) and asked, "What else do you two need?"
Romilda scanned her list. "Erm, Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three," she said, and the other two made assenting noises, "...also, Our Merry Non-Magical Mates: A Beginner's Guide to Muggle Culture."
Clara and Derek giggled.
"Don't laugh," Romilda defended. She grabbed for Clara's list. "What's your Ancient Runes one, then?"
Clara composed herself and looked over the list. She's seen it before, but she'd forgotten somehow—"Ah," she said, and her finger hit the page. "Ancient Runes Made Easy," she read aloud. "But that's not nearly as funny as 'Our Merry Non-Magical Mates'—Ow!"
Clara rubbed her shoulder where Romilda had smacked her.
"Are you three done back here?" demanded the storekeeper from the front. "You're making an awful lot of noise."
The three murmured apologies, collected their books, paid, and left the store.
The rest of the day passed quickly. They ate lunch in the Leaky Cauldron, got their robes, potions ingredients, and other supplies. They laughed and joked and played and it was near four before the three thirteen-year-olds were heading toward Muggle London, laden with shopping bags.
"Why'd we get our books first thing?" Romilda complained, dragging her feet. "We've been carrying them around all day. My shoulder is killing me."
"Wait!" Clara said suddenly. "I've forgotten to get food for Hedwig. I'll be right back."
She dumped her shopping bags on Derek and darted back down the alleyway. She ducked into Eeylops Owl Emporium and paid for the owl food and a bag of Owl Treats. She went back out into the street and jogged to get back to Romilda and Derek before Mrs. Easton came back to pick them up, and she accidentally ran into a tall man in a black cloak.
"Sorry, sir," she muttered, and ducked her head to run on.
"Oi!" said the man. "That's 'er, innit? That's the girl 'oo escaped 'im!"
The man's companions turned to look. A gasp tore itself from Clara's lungs and she put on a burst of speed.
"Get her!" yelled one of them. "The Dark Lord wants her alive!"
A spell shot past her and screams filled the alley. Clara prayed beyond all hope that Romilda and Derek had already left through the Leaky Cauldron and were out of harm's way.
She flung a weak Full-Body Bind over her shoulder as she ran, dodging spells every which way. A spell hit her—an Impediment Jinx—and Clara felt her movements instantly become difficult beyond compare. It took all of her effort and straining to pull herself into an adjacent alley, cutting the back of her hand on the wall as she went. She turned her wand on herself slowly. "Finite," she whispered, her heart pounding, the only bit of her that seemed to be going full speed.
The jinx eased but did not lift. Clara was able to jog down this new alley if she focused very hard on it. This alley was twisted and shadowed, offering much more cover for her as she sped away from her pursuers. If only she had someplace to hide.
Suddenly, more cloaked men appeared before her. "'Ello, sweetie," said one man, a voice she recognized from before and her throat closed in fear. "Shouldn'ta led us into our own territory, should ya?"
Clara glanced around, feeling her heart sink. This was Knockturn Alley. People like her didn't come down here, and if they did, they didn't ever leave. Not in a time of war.
She was surrounded, flanked on both sides by Death Eaters. The only place left to go was—
Clara darted for the shop door beside her and raced inside, only just avoiding the flashes of red light that hit each other where she had just been standing. There were at least fifteen of them, Clara thought dimly. Too many for her to take. She turned the deadbolt, and it must have been magical, because the Death Eaters' Unlocking Charms had no effect. Still, she had no doubt they would get in eventually.
Clara gripped her wand. "I'll go down fighting if I have to," she told herself aloud to the quiet shop, mentally ordering her knees to stop quivering.
"Clara?" said a quiet voice from behind a rack of robes. "Is that you?"
A brown-haired head peered around the rack.
"Astoria!" Clara choked out, not sure if she should be relieved, overjoyed, or just even more afraid because now she had put a friend in danger, too. Astoria Greengrass emerged and came over.
"What's going on?"
"I seem to have accidentally offended those men out there," Clara said.
Astoria looked at her consideringly and then peeked out through the glass at the top of the door, which the Death Eaters were fighting to open. A rack of robes hid the pair mostly from sight. "How good a look at you did they get?" she asked.
Clara shrugged, watching the Death Eaters struggle with the clearly magical lock. "Not very good, I suppose, but I don't see—Astoria!"
Astoria ducked out from behind the robes rack and approached the door, her head held high and very stiff. She unlocked the door to face the Death Eaters, who were now staring at her, wide-eyed.
"Miss Greengrass—"
"Why have you been chasing me?" asked Astoria, and it was with an entirely new tone that she spoke, one full of haughtiness and derision.
"Chasing...chasing you? No, miss, we were chasing—"
"You were chasing me," Astoria said coldly. "This is unacceptable. Imagine, treating a girl with blood as pure as mine like some dratted Mudbood filth?"
"We apologize, Miss Greengrass, we mistook you for someone else."
"See that it does not happen again," Astoria said. "Now, begone! I have shopping to do."
The Death Eaters filed away slowly and Astoria returned.
Clara pushed her half-heartedly. "That was completely stupid," she said. Then her expression softened. "And, I suppose, also really really smart."
Astoria grinned. "How can it be both?"
Clara shook her head in answer. "Astoria," she said. "Thanks. You saved my life."
"Everyone needs someone to fight with them sometimes," Astoria said vaguely. "Consider my debt paid in full."
Clara felt something sink inside her. "Done," she said, feeling sad. Had Astoria been her friend all this time only in an attempt to pay back a debt? Would it all end now?
"Because I want us to be equals when we fight together again," Astoria said with a smile, and she pressed her hand to Clara's. "So why were they after you, anyway?"
Clara let out a long sigh. "It's something of a long story," she began.
"Astoria!" called a voice from the back room of the store. "Come and look at these dress robes. Now!"
Astoria sighed and let her head tip forward so that her confident pose slipped away, her brown hair falling into her eyes once more. "I haven't got time," she said to Clara. "But later?"
Clara nodded and left the shop, keeping her head down as she made her way back to the Leaky Cauldron. Romilda and Derek were there, looking worried.
"We were just about to go looking for you," Derek said. "What happened?"
"Death Eaters," Clara said grimly. Derek and Romilda gasped. Clara inspected the cut on her hand and winced.
Derek pulled out his wand. "Let me see that," he said, and took her hand, examining it. "Ferula," he said, and bandages spun around her hand.
"Thanks," Clara said, touching the bandage. "You've gotten better at that."
"I practiced before we left Hogwarts," Derek said off-handedly.
"Oh, shut up about that," Romilda said. "Tell us about the Death Eaters."
Clara relayed her story as the friends waited outside for Derek's mother to arrive. When it was over, her friends waited with bated breath for her to continue.
"That's it," Clara said when this had gone on for several seconds.
Derek shook his head and let out a long, low whistle. "So they want you alive?" he whispered. "Since when does You-Know-Who want anyone alive?"
Clara shrugged. "Probably wants to get more about the prophecy out of me," she said.
"Fake prophecy, you mean," Romilda corrected, looking pensive. "I wonder why he hasn't gotten enough information by now to figure out that your story was basically a load of dragon dung."
"He isn't used to people who can lie like I can," Clara answered. "Sev taught me, and Voldemort doesn't even know that Sev isn't actually working for him."
"But still," Romilda protested. "He's the world's most powerful Dark wizard, and you're..."
"Not?" Clara supplied. "I know."
"Maybe he needs Clara to figure it out," Derek suggested.
"But then, once he gets her and finds her out..." Romilda said softly.
Clara felt sick to her stomach. "He'll just kill me," she finished.
"Hey, come on," Derek said placatingly. "You'll be safe enough at Hogwarts."
Clara swallowed and nodded. "Yeah." If I get there alive, Clara added mentally, but Mrs. Easton chose that moment to drive up with the car, essentially cutting off their conversation.
That night, Clara, Derek, and Romilda sprawled in the girls' room, talking amidst stacks of their new Hogwarts supplies.
"Don't you think you should write your parents about what happened in Diagon Alley?" Derek suggested.
Clara shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't want to make them worried about me," she said.
"Face it," Derek responded. "They've been worried about you since the moment they found out you had brought down the full extent of You-Know-Who's wrath purely on yourself."
"They've been worried about me since before then," Clara retorted. "I don't need to add to their worry."
"Take it easy," Romilda said, letting her head loll back. "Let's keep the emotional level down, shall we? I'm exhausted."
"You're exhausted?" Clara asked, teasing. "I'm the one who was chased by Death Eaters today."
"But you're so much more athletic than me," Romilda whined.
"Speaking of," Derek said. "Clara, are you going out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team this year?"
Clara grinned widely. "I wouldn't miss it," she said.
"It's sort of odd, isn't it?" Romilda said suddenly. "I mean, there's this war. And people are dying and getting chased through shops. But everything is still so normal. I mean, Quidditch is still on."
Clara's grin faded and she and Derek were quiet for a minute, and the sound of the late summer crickets chirping outside the open window filled the room. "Yeah," Clara agreed softly.
More silence.
"Maybe..." Derek began, and then stopped and shook his head. "No, never mind, it's stupid."
"What is it? Tell us!" Romilda coaxed.
Derek made a considering face and then relented. "Maybe we've got to keep doing normal things," he said. "We're just kids, even though we might like to pretend that we're adults. We can't throw away our lives just to save our lives." The delicate stress he placed on the two words made his meaning clear.
"How did you get to be so smart?" Romilda asked Derek, staring at him.
Derek grinned. "Self-defense," he said. "Had to make up for the lack of brains in this group of—Ow!"
"Will you never learn?" Clara teased as Derek rubbed the spot where both of his friends had smacked him at once. "There are two of us and only one of you."
"I will fight valiantly unto the last!" Derek proclaimed, and got to his feet.
"Where are you going?" Romilda demanded.
"I choose my battlefield as beyond the castle walls!" Derek said, still in his silly pompous voice. He dropped his posture and voice back to normal and said, "Anyone for Nighttime Hide and Seek in the meadow and woods?"
Clara and Romilda exchanged identical grins and leapt to their feet to follow Derek, padding silently through the sleeping house and to the moonlit meadow outside.
The meadow was quiet, with only the chirping of crickets, the rustling trees along the edge, and the occasional sleepy call of a nightingale filling the air.
Romilda, Derek, and Clara grinned at each other for a moment and then took off, racing away from the house so that they could be as loud as they wanted.
Peaceful silence was all very well, but this night, this last night of the summer, was meant for celebration.
(A/N) I thought I'd give you a chapter a little more upbeat than the last couple. Hopefully you felt there was a good mix of fluff and plot. Next chapter will see our little trio back to Hogwarts—if all goes according to plan.
Thanks for reading and reviewing! You guys have been so overwhelmingly kind, it really makes my day.