MMM: Well, I've got another chapter ready. Sorry it took so long. And I'm sorry to say this, but the next one may take even longer! I'm sorry! But I've got a bunch of major exams coming up and I need to put all my focus in them! I'm sorry, you guys. I know you've been really patient and I appreciate that, but I need you to be a little more patient now.


Ch. 52 Waiting

Anya sat up in her usual tree in the backyard, her music notebook balanced on her lap and a purple pen in hand. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't think of anything... nothing but sorrow and pain and fear.

The death of Cedric Diggory had caused quite the uproar in the magical world. For weeks, all one could read about in the Daily Prophet were reports about how he had been killed, discussions on the radio channels with his friends and loved ones, and other things such as that.

Soon after that, people began to disappear. Reports of witches and wizards of all kinds were made of the missing people. Some were found dead, others alive but with their minds completely shredded by torturing. And some just weren't found, period.

And no matter how many times Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and one of the most intelligent wizards that there has ever been, insisted, the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, refused to believe that the one responsible for these disapperances and deaths was the most dangerous wizard of all time...

Voldemort, the wizard back from the dead.

Not that Anya could really blame Fudge for wanting to deny it. After all, the last time Voldemort came into power, the wizarding world nearly went to pieces. Lives had been destroyed left, right, and center, all in his fight to gain control and wipe the world of any and all muggles and any muggleborn witches and wizards.

That had been fourteen years ago. Voldemort had nearly succeeded in his plans, and he would have won, if it hadn't of been for one little boy- Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and Anya's closest friend.

But Voldemort had returned, though no one would actually believe it. None but Harry, who had seen the resurrection with his own eyes, his friends and those few other witches and wizards.

"Anya!" Anya looked down to see one of said friends, Ron Weasley, standing at the base of the tree. "Mum said the meeting's over and that it's time for dinner."

"I'll be right there," Anya reassured him. She then jumped down from the branch she sat on and followed him into Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Number 12 of Grimmauld Place was a very grimy house, magically hidden from the muggle world between Numbers 11 and 13. The structure of the inside made Anya think that it could have been literally squeezed in between the other two houses with its overlapping ceilings, odd angle walls, and narrow hallways.

It was here that Anya had been since the middle of summer break. Though it could a lot of convincing on her parents' part, and as her other friend, Hermione Granger, had to with her own parents, she was finally able to explain to them why it was so important for her to stay there in London- The Order of the Phoenix.

The Order of the Phoenix was a speical group founded by Albus Dumbledore back in the days of Voldemort's first rise to power, consisting of any and all in the wizarding world who wished to stand up for a world meant for everyone, muggle and wizard alike, not just pureblood families as Voldemort intended to change it to. When the news that the dark wizard had returned, those that were still alive were quick to gather together and begin to try and get others to follow. Not that Fudge's influence on the media had helped them any.

The two teens walked into the dining room/kitchen to see Ron's mother and his sister Ginny going back and forth between the two areas, bringing plates of Mrs. Weasley's fabulous cooking with them as they went while Hermione finished setting the places. Fred and George, Ron's older twin brothers, were as usual, up to their old tricks of planning pranks and now, being of legal wizarding age, using magic as often as they wanted. Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table with the Daily Prophet in hand and shaking his head at what he read. Anya could only imagine how Mr. Weasley was taking all of this. His third oldest son, Percy, had spent the last year working for the Minister of Magic and apparently took his side over that of his own family.

"Collins, would you kindly keep to one side of the room?" a gruff voice said from behind Anya and she looked over her shoulder to see the real Mad-Eye Moody behind her. Even though she knew that this man wasn't the imposter who had infiltrated Hogwarts and nearly got Harry killed last year, it didn't change the fact that Anya thought he was a creepy man. His attitude was just as bad as the fake Moody's had been. "Bloody hallway's already small enough as it is," he growled, his bright blue eye rotating around in its socket.

"Sorry sir," Anya mumbled as she pressed as close to the wall as she could to let him pass. Moody let out another growl before limping into the room for dinner.

"Don't mind him, Anya." She looked back again to see another ex-Dark Arts teacher of Hogwarts, Remus Lupin. The wizard/werewolf looked even more tired than usual, not that any of the Order had gotten much sleep as of late. "It's just that all these events are taking a toll on him," he said with a sigh. "It's not your fault."

"It's understandable, Professor," Anya replied automatically.

Remus laughed. "Why do you keep calling me that? You know I'm not your teacher anymore, and I have told you to call me Remus."

Anya blushed. "Force of habit." He just gace he another smiling before squeezing his way into the kitchen to help. Anya sighed before she looked around at those members that either were staying or getting ready to leave.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror who worked within the Ministry of Magic. The oldest sons of the Weasley family, Bill and Charlie. Nymphadora Tonks, a sassy but clumsy Metamorphmagus and recently qualified Auror. Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house at Hogwarts and master of Transfiguration. Mundungus Fletcher, as unreliable as they come, but handy to have around crook. Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant keeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts. Severus Snape, the potions master of Hogwarts and head of Slytherin house and double-agent for the Order in Voldemort's circle. Sirius Black, fasley-convicted of murder, escapee of Azkaban prison, and owner of Number 12, Grimmauld Place. And of course, the man who founded the Order- Albus Dumbledore himself. There were a few others, but Anya didn't remember their names properly for they hardly stayed. She was particularlly grateful that Snape never stayed longer than he had to.

"Yeh alright there, Anya?" Anya looked up to see Hagrid's massive frame towering over her. How he was able to fit into the tiny house, she wasn't sure.

"I'm fine, Hagrid," she reassured him with a smile. "I'm just going to go bring this in my room," she said, holding up her book. With a quick hug, she headed up the stairs to the room she shared with Ginny and Hermione. She carefully tip-toed past the covered portrait of Sirius' mother, which was always rudely talking about how her house was being corrupted by 'filthy Mudbloods and Blood-Traitors'. The last thing she needed was for that stupid painting to wake up and start screaming at her. On the way back downstairs, she wasn't as fortunate as to not run into anyone.

Kreacher, a very aged house-elf who had served the House of Black for many generations, was standing on one of the landings.

Being a house-elf, Kreacher had been very faithfully loyal to the pureblood Black family. He shared in the same beliefs as Mrs. Black had believed in, even as far as to stay and 'take care' of the house when she died, though the only thing he took care of was that painting. When Mrs. Weasley first came to Grimmauld Place and started cleaning it properly, throwing away any dark magic items that filled the house, the house-elf went into a frenzy, insisting that no one touch his mistress' possessions. Even now, he would still try to save a few things every day by sneaking them out of the trash bags.

"Filthy little Mudblood brat," the creature snarled at her as soon as his sharp, cold eyes spotted her standing there. "Thinks she can walk the halls of the House of Black freely. If Kreacher's mistress were still alive, Mistress would have Mudblood girl begging for death, and Kreacher would watch gleefully." His smile was as cold as his words, chilling Anya to the very core. But Anya wasn't going to let him know that.

Instead, she just scoffed at the house-elf. "Don't you have some piece of garbage to take care of?"

"Kreacher doesn't take orders from someone with filthy blood," he replied. "Filth breeds filth."

Anya saw red. It was bad enough that he insulted her. Now he was insulting her parents? "Go to hell!" she shot back. She then nodded back up the steps to where Mrs. Black's portrait hung. "Isn't it about time for the bitch's daily polish?"

The sound of a cracking whip errupted when Kreacher snapped his fingers at Anya, and the next thing she knew, she was flying off her feet and slamming into the wall behind her. "Mudblood should die for speaking of Kreacher's mistress that way!" he shouted at her.

"Kreacher!" Sirius' voice rang out and the house-elf stopped what Anya was sure was going to be a nasty hex. "That's enough! You will not hurt that girl. Is that understood?"

Kreacher looked ready to kill Anya, but he could not go against his master's order. "Yes, Master Sirius," he growled under his breath before slowly dropping his hand and making his way up the stairs to his beloved mistress.

"You alright?" Sirius asked Anya as he helped her stand up again. Since he had returned to his old home, Sirius was looking a lot better: his hair wasn't a greasy, his eyes less sunken in, skin and teeth properly cleaned, and his new clothes fit better thanks to Mrs. Weasley's cooking. "You've got a bit of blood there, Anya."

Sure enough, when Anya's hand touched at the her hairline, she felt something wet and sticky, and when she brought it back, her fingers were lightly stained in red. "Damn," she muttered.

"Here." Sirius held out a white hankerchief for her and she took it to place against her head. "You shouldn't rile him up like that. House-elves are unpredictable and they get very dangerous when mad," he told her as they continued down to the kitchen.

"I know," Anya sighed. "But the little bastard was insulting my parents. He called them 'filth'! What was I suppose to do? Take it lying down?"

Sirius shook his head. "Absolutely not. But you do need to be careful. Like I said- a house-elf can be very unpredictable when angry."

"You should see me up against a girl back home," she told him. "You think Kreacher's bad? You haven't seen 'angry' until you've seen me tear into Heller." Anya could remember the last time she had dealt with the blonde American bitch.

Flashback

"Hey Collins!" Anya rolled her eyes and gritted her teeth at the annoying voice that came out of Lucy Heller's mouth. How any guy could ever think that thing was attractive was beyond her. Then again, the fact that she was the daughter of a wealthy man, who had married six different supermodels in half as many years, made it a little more believable. They cared more about getting on Mr. Heller's good side so they could try and get their hands on the family fortune.

"Heller," Anya acknowledged the blonde without looking at her. Instead, she continued to flip through the magazine in front of her and took a sip from her cherry coke.

A pale hand slammed down on the pages, effectively stopping Anya from continuing what she was doing. With a sigh, she turned to look at the person connected to said hand. "Can I help you?" she asked in a bored tone.

"Yeah," Lucy smirked. "You can tell me where I can find that dreamy guy I met last summer- Draco."

At the mention of her boyfriend's name, Anya felt her blood boil a little bit higher with anger, much like it usually did when it came to Lucy Heller butting in on her life. But instead of letting it show, she gave a shrug. "Couldn't really tell you," she replied, pinching one of Lucy's fingers between her index and thumb and pulled it off her magazine.

"Yeah right," Lucy scoffed as she crossed her arms. "I heard those loser friends of yours talking about how you went to his place last summer. You know exactly where he lives and you're going to tell me."

"Oh really?" Anya scoffed back, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. Her hand itched to punch the other girl when she called her friends 'losers', but she kept calm. 'I'm out of here in a few days, I'm out of here in a few days...' kept repeating in her mind. "And why would I do something like that?" she smirked.

Lucy's scowl grew even bigger and she slammed both hands down on the polished table surface. "Listen to me and listen to me good, Collins. Draco is mine, and I'll be damned before I let some pathetic piece of street trash like you get in my way."

The next thing Lucy knew, her head was flying backwards as a fist connected with her face. The distinct crack of breaking bone could be heard throughout the diner and all eyes turned to see as the rich blonde girl fell back on her ass. She clutched at her nose, feeling the sticky red blood slowly dripping through her fingers. When she looked up, all the color in her orange-tanned face drained away when she saw the murderous glare in Anya's violet eyes.

"Now you listen to me, Heller!" Anya's voice held so much fury that people in the nearby booths held their breath in fear. "You better get your head out of your ass and stop deluding yourself with these fantisies you've cooked up under those bleach-blonde locks! Draco is my boyfriend, and you better get that straight or else you'll need your Daddy's money for some damn good plastic surgeons once I've rearranged your face!" She then grabbed a handful of Lucy's long hair and literally dragged her over to the front of the diner, tugged her up onto her feet, and shoved her towards the door.

"Aren't you going to do something about this?!" Lucy demanded from Max Baxley, the owner. "You can't let her get away with this!"

"Get away with what?" Max smirked as he wiped at imaginary marks on the counter. It was about time that someone put that girl in her place. Out of all his clients, Lucy Heller was the worse. If things weren't made exactly how she wanted them, she'd start a temper tantrum, and refuse to pay, even if what he had brought her was what she ordered.

"UGH!" Lucy shouted. She rounded onto Anya and pointed a long, overly-manicured nail at the auburn haired girl. "You are so going to regret this, Collins!"

"Bring it on, bitch," Anya smirked, motioning for her to do just that.

"When my dad goes to the police, you'll be lucky if you get away with being charged only with assault!" Lucy threatened.

"And where's you're proof?" Max demanded from behind the counter. "That broken nose? You could have just tripped and fell on your face or smacked into a wall. And there aren't any survaillance cameras in this place, so you won't get any help from me."

Lucy looked around, silently demanding that someone say that they would testify against Collins. But all she received was a glare from each occupant in the room and she realized that she was on her own. The demanding look turned into a pleading one. Collins couldn't get away with this! She was the girl who ruled the school, not Collins! But it looked like Lucy's reign of power was coming to an end.

So with a broken nose and a lost power over her fellow teens, Lucy limped out of the diner, the many cheers and congratulations to Anya for taking down the 'bitch of the west' ringing in her ears as she went.

End Flashback

Sirius shivered once Anya finished telling her tale, surprised at what kind of attitude this fifteen-year-old possessed. She would have made a great Marauder had she had been at Hogwarts when he was there. Instead, he just repeated for her to be careful and led them into the kitchen for dinner.


MMM: See you next time!

Nancy (aka megamatchmaker)