"This is useless," Harry muttered, crumpling up his most recent letter from Ron. "Wish we could tell you, mate, owl might get intercepted..." He scowled. "I wish they'd just bloody come and tell me in person."
"I know," was all Calla said tiredly. It was almost nine o'clock and she was ready for bed, and had heard this same rant of Harry's a million times, enough for it to have entirely lost its appeal.
"I don't get how you can just sit there and be so relaxed about all of this," Harry said, scowling at the Daily Prophet and at his stack of unhelpful letters.
"Relaxed?" Calla laughed in disbelief. "You think I'm relaxed?"
"Well you don't seem all that interested in finding out what's actually going on," Harry told her. "Do you? You've barely looked at the Daily Prophet."
"Neither have you," she said quietly. "You've just looked at the headlines and scanned for our names and then got angry."
"Yeah, well why shouldn't I be angry?"
"I'm not saying you shouldn't be angry. I'm saying you are. And I... I'm just tired, Harry."
"But don't you think we should be doing something?"
"What can we do?"
"Something! We're the ones that have faced him, Calla, we're the ones that have been through everything! Who faced Quirrel in first year?"
"You." She looked at him. "That was just you."
"And second year? You ran to the chamber even before I did, it was us who fought him! You were the one who killed the basilisk, and I stabbed the diary! That was us! And third year I drove off the Dementors and it - it was us who were in that maze! Who were..."
"I know," she said gently as Harry broke off, momentarily stunned by memory.
"They can't just expect us to - to sit around and - and do nothing! And I don't know how you can stand it!"
"Yeah." Calla looked away, steadying her breaths. This room felt stifling, not only from the weather. She scratched Matilda in her lap.
"It's just... They should be telling us!"
"I know."
"Do you? You're not doing anything, Calla!"
"Neither are you." Her lip wobbled.
"At least I want to! You - you spend all your time with Mairi and her family and... It's like you're just pretending none of this is happening!"
Coming from Harry, it hurt. It stung, actually. "And why do you think that is?" she asked, lip wobbling further as her vision listed and she inwardly cursed herself for crying again. "I'm scared, Harry."
"So am I!"
"I know but... Harry, I can't fight. I can't do anything to help. And I... I'm a coward, is what I am." She felt tears slide down her cheek. "I have never been so terrified as I was in that graveyard, Harry, never. I thought I was dying, I thought you were going to die and then Dumbledore came and spoke to me and... Harry, I'm never going to be able to fight. Not like you. I'm weak, and I'm getting weaker and I'm going to keep getting weaker until he's gone. And I'm scared."
"So you'd rather do nothing?" Harry seemed to spit out the words.
"Most of the time..." She took in a nervous breath. "It feels like nothing's all I can do. And, Harry... I just want to be normal."
"You heard Dumbledore," he said, "at the speech. What's right and what's easy."
"I know," she said, chest lurching forwards just a little as she spoke. "I know, Harry. I - I will, I will do something but... I'm trying, I am but I just... I can't."
"You're just making excuses."
"I'm not. Harry, I - I've no idea what to do, or where to even begin. And I don't think anyone else does either. I just... I want to pretend for a little while that we're normal and alive and safe and that we're going to stay that way, because we should be safe, but we're not and we can't be and - and I hate that the Wizarding World took that from us, I hate that it took our mum and our dad and I hate that it took Cedric and I hate that it took me too, and I hate it!" She was sure she was shouting now. Downstairs, everything had gone very quiet. She was glad the window wasn't open. "I can't even use magic properly, so what's even the point of it all! What's the point, if I can't-" She broke off suddenly, sobbing, eyes burning with tears. Her throat felt like it was closing up, and her chest close to bursting as she wrapped her arms around herself. "I can't do this, Harry! Please stop pretending like I should, because I can't!"
She shook her head, throat jamming, and got unsteadily to her feet, slipping into worn trainers. There was a faint ringing in her ears and her vision went a little hazy, but she was used to that at this point and just squeezed her eyes shut momentarily until it stopped.
"Cal," Harry started, somewhat uncertainly, as as she folded her arms and went to march out the door and down the stairs, desperate for some air.
"You will stop your bloody racket!" Uncle Vernon said as she got halfway done the stairs. He was purple in the face and looked like he had been just about to come up to yell at her. "We can hear you all the way downstairs!"
She didn't say anything, just carried on down the stairs and reached for the door handle.
"You're not going anywhere," Uncle Vernon snarled down at her, blocking her way. "Not after that. I won't have you shouting about - about your... madness, in this house. Think of the neighbours, girl!"
She swallowed, and looked at him as fiercely as she could given the fact that she was still mostly crying. "I'm going out," she said, and promptly ducked under his arm to yank the door open and slam it shut behind her, rattling the walls. Good, she thought, tugging her hair behind her and drawing it up into a too-tight ponytail. Slamming that door had felt good.
It wasn't much cooler out here than it was inside, but at least she was alone here, and could look up at the moon and the feeble, pollution-dimmed stars, and ignore everyone else. She could be any other girl walking around the neighbourhood at night, just alone with herself and the sky. It was a romantic notion and it was better than anything else.
Her mind drifted to Mairi as she rounded the corner of Privet Park. But she didn't want to wake her and a visit this time of night felt... Different, still. That didn't stop her looking up at Mairi's window, lit dimly through the curtains, and wondering, wishing to see her. She wanted to feel that comforting feeling of soft, warm hands around her waist, the feeling of pure happiness that burned in her chest when Mairi. But she shook her head. Tonight she just had to be alone, because Mairi wouldn't understand this.
So she was alone. She wandered Little Whinging until she regretted not wearing a jacket. Cold rippled over her exposed arms and she held them tightly around her chest, staring at the stars. Everything just seemed so terribly huge and out of her control. She wanted something to hold onto, but the only person here was Harry, and he was doing no better than she was. And it wasn't like she could even explain what was happening to Mairi. She didn't even know what she felt about Mairi. It was the same way she'd felt about Zach, and gave a similar thrill as thinking about Fleur, but she didn't know how to reconcile the two. Part of her wanted the Summer to be over already, and part of her wanted it to never end.
She missed her friends, but the thought of going back to Hogwarts terrified her. Maybe, she'd thought, she could have just stayed with Remus and Sirius all year, hiding from whatever it was she was so scared of, but she doubted Dumbledore would let her. Not that his word counted for much anymore. Sometimes she wanted to scream at Harry, sometimes at the Daily Prophet, sometimes at the world and sometimes at herself. Sometimes she'd wake from a nightmare in the middle of the night convinced that the world was ending, and maybe in some ways it already had.
She kicked a small stone, scuffing her worn trainers against the ground, and rubbed her arms to try and work some heat back into her body before heading back, staring again at the sky and wondering how many people with perfectly normal lives had looked at that same sky and wished for something more. Right now all she wanted was a little less of everything that wasn't normal.
The lights of Number Four, Privet Drive, were all turned out when she got back, and the front door was locked. She hadn't expected anything else; maybe the Dursleys had hoped she'd get murdered in the night if she was locked out.
With a sigh, she snuck around the back, taking care not to let the gate creak too loud. The back door was locked too, but when she glanced up she saw that Harry had left their window partially open, and there was still a faint light inside. She smiled in relief and gentle gratitude, and turned to the tree by the window, gaining a foothold and hauling herself up until she was near level with the window. She could either jump onto the conservatory roof and up, or try and make a lunge for the window ledge and hope she didn't fall and break her neck.
Or. "Harry," she whispered across the gap of air. "Gimme a hand."
A moment later, her brother's face appeared at the window, pale and exasperated. "They said they locked you out. And then they locked me in. It's almost midnight, Cal, I was about to come and find you."
"Sorry." She winced, as Harry ducked inside and reappeared a minute later with what seemed to be the bedsheets tied together. "Is that going to work?"
"Did you have another idea?"
She shook her head, taking the other end of the bedsheets that Harry tossed out to her. "Please don't drop me."
Harry just shook his head in response, and Calla steeled herself to make a leap towards the wall. She went swinging so fast she thought for sure she'd slam into the brick, but at the last second swung her legs up and bent her knees so that she only pushed off of it, and then Harry hauled her up just enough that she could grab the window ledge and pull herself the rest of the way.
She clambered over the windowsill, quite relieved she'd made it back in, and grinned at her brother in thanks. "I'm sorry," he said, "for shouting at you earlier."
"It's alright," she said quietly, and even though it wasn't quite alright, it was still Harry. "I'm sorry too. I just... I'm scared."
"I know," he said, and hugged her tightly. "I am too. It's normal, right?"
"Right." She squeezed her eyes shut. "You said it's midnight."
"Yeah. Almost, anyway."
"Sorry." She winced. "You didn't stay up this whole time, did you?"
"Well I wasn't going to let you stay outside on your own the whole night. I told myself if it got to midnight and you weren't back then I'd have to come and find you." Harry stepped back, shaking his head. "You are being a bit ridiculous, you know. First you say you're scared, and then you disappear into the night on your own for three hours."
She shook her head. "It's different. It's Little Whinging. It's the Muggliest Muggletown in the Muggle world." Harry snorted. "And I needed a walk."
She took the tied together bedsheets from him and started to untie them, shaking them out so there were no traces of crumbled brick, and together she and Harry put them back on their beds. "Thanks," she said quietly, as her brother shut the window. "For staying up for me."
She couldn't see him as he turned out the last remaining light, but she could hear a faint smile in his voice. "You're my sister. Now let me sleep."
Xx
Calla hadn't been able to sleep. Even after getting in at midnight, she wasn't tired, and by half past one she'd been woken by the sound of Harry shouting, shaking in his bed. "No! No, Cedric! Not Cedric! No, no - don't hurt her! Don't hurt Calla! Mum! Mum, help! Help!"
She turned to him, eyes welling with worry as he writhed and she had no idea what to do. "Harry," she whispered. "Harry!"
"Mum, Dad, help me! Help me, please!"
"Harry!" She lurched across the narrow gap between their beds and grabbed him by the arm. "Harry! Wake up!"
His eyes flew open; his face was pale and sweaty as he panted under the duvet. "C-Calla?"
"It's alright," she whispered, kneeling on the dusty floor. "I'm here, I'm alright. You're okay."
He stared at her, eyes wide and still terrified. Calla squeezed his hand. "I..."
"I know," she whispered. "Me too."
Harry was awfully quiet all day, apart from when he read the Daily Prophet. "They're going to close the investigation," he said in a hoarse voice. "They say they've got what they needed, they've got Pettigrew and there's no further evidence... No reliable witnesses." She ground her teeth together and looked steadfastly away. "Someone from the Auror Department's given a statement, anonymously. That it still remains high in their list of concerns and they're going to continue to put suspected Death Eater activity on their alert system." He scowled. "If you ask me, they've been told to keep quiet."
"Anything more about Pettigrew?" Calla asked as neutrally as she could, rattled by the line about reliable witnesses.
"No. Sounds like they want to forget about him now, if they ever even cared." He fell back into his bed and took to glaring alternately between the ceiling and at her for the rest of the day. Calla didn't want to leave him on his own, but it was stifling for them to be in the same room and they both knew it.
"I'll be back before dinner," she said before she left. He didn't reply.
When she arrived at the Bairds' house, Mairi's mother greeted her at the door, talking quickly on the phone to someone, pale and rather stressed-looking. Papers were scattered over the hall table behind her. Mrs Baird glanced up at Calla and her eyes widened, as she hurriedly urged her to go on upstairs to Mairi.
Frowning, Calla hurried up the stairs, hearing music coming from Mairi's room. "Oh," she said, sitting up quickly from where she'd been lying reading a magazine. "I didn't expect you."
"Sorry," Calla said quickly, "your mum said to come upstairs."
Mairi grinned, cheeks going a little pink, and Calla felt her stomach do a small flip. "So," she said, "what's up now?"
"Nothing really," she said, not wanting to have to tread around secrets with Mairi. "Harry's as frustrating as always."
"Obviously." Mairi grinned and pulled Calla down to sit next to her on the bed. Her arms tingled as they brushed skin against one another. "Mum's been going daft about something or other all morning. One of our my aunties back home's lost something that used to belong to my great-aunt - the one who was killed in Edinburgh - and my mum's convinced they got rid of it years ago, but now my auntie's accusing her of stealing it and it's all a mess."
"What was it?"
"No idea, Mum won't say. I assume it's some sort of heirloom, but none of us knew my great-aunt. She died just a few years after my mum was born, and we're not sure what she was up to in that point. Everything we have from her was from way before then. She... Went a little off the rails, I think, but we're not meant to talk about it."
"That's horrible," Calla said with a shudder.
"I know." Mairi didn't meet her eyes, just stared out of the window for a while. "Anyway, obviously Mum has no attachment to her and I don't know how Auntie Niamh thinks she's somehow stolen it from all the way in Surrey, but there you go." She shrugged, even though Calla felt that what she had just said warranted much more expression than a mere shrug. "Her and my dad are always having these little conversations without us hearing, though. It's so annoying. They won't even tell Andrew what's going on."
"Yeah," Calla said, thinking of her friends' event silence, and Remus and Sirius' failed promises, and the lies that were running rampant in the Daily Prophet. "I hate it when stuff like that happens."
Mairi hummed, and then seemed to catch herself, forcing herself to smile. It was something Calla wouldn't have realised if she hadn't recently come to perfect the art herself. "Anyway!" She jumped up, grinning too widely. "We haven't decided what to do for your birthday yet!"
Calla pulled a face. "We don't have to do anything. I'm really not in the mood to celebrate my birthday this year."
"Well, haven't you heard anything from that godfather of yours?"
"No," she said sullenly. Surprise and hurt flickered across Mairi's face. "Sorry. It's just... Not a very good time right now."
Mairi pursed her lips, frowning at Calla. "We can just go get ice cream if you want. Bring Harry, too. It'll be fun."
She tried to smile. But she didn't really feel like celebrating anything recently, even if she couldn't explain to Mairi why that was. "Oh, come on." Mairi had taken Calla's face in her hands, and her thumbs stroked the dimples on her cheeks, seeming to set them on fire. Calla wondered if that wasn't its own kind of magic. It was... A pleasant sort, if it was. "Whatever's wrong, you can tell me."
"I can't," she said softly, shaking her head. Mairi's hands fell away and left her feeling cold. "I wish I could." Her heart twisted. "I think I just need a break."
"From what?"
"Everything," she said, and Mairi laughed, nudging her shoulder comfortingly.
"I get that sometimes, too."
Calla tried to smile, but she knew whatever Mairi thought was wrong had to be so far from the truth. "I suppose it's a universal thing. Kind of." She leaned her head tentatively on Mairi's shoulder, and could hear her gentle breathings, the thumping of her heart. Their eyes met for an instant, and Calla realised how close they were to one another. Her breath caught in her throat. She almost leaned closer, and then there was a crash from downstairs and they both leapt up, flustered.
"B-Bobby!" Mairi yelled. "Is that you?"
"It's not my fault!" came a grumpy shout from downstairs.
"Aye," Mairi yelled, "sure it's no!"
She shook her head and turned back to Calla with a grin that made her stomach flip. Calla glanced away, but could still feel Mairi's gaze on her, warm and considering, and she didn't know what to do with that. She turned abruptly, eyes falling to Mairi's lips and then looked determinedly at the window. "I should go," she said quickly. "Harry... I said we could do some of our Summer homework."
Mairi blinked, and something Calla thought may have been disappointment flickered over her features for a moment. "Alright," she said slowly. "I'll see you out."
They didn't speak on the way downstairs but Calla could feel the strange tension between them. She didn't know whether to be scared of it or to give in to whatever it may mean.
Xx
One advantage this Summer was that the Dursleys didn't care where Calla and Harry went so long as they left them alone. Even Dudley seemed to want to keep out of their way, though Calla didn't know if his parents had told him what had happened. She doubted it.
But Harry's words still lived in the back of her mind. As far as she knew from Hermione's response to her, Flourish and Blotts did not do deliveries - and Hermione had seemed too curious about what Calla was wanting to buy - but Calla thought that, perhaps, even if nothing she had yet managed to do was working, she should at least try. And the only place she could conceive of to start was by reading. Harry seemed only too excited at the prospect of getting out of Little Whinging for a while.
So one Tuesday, she and Harry had a quick, early breakfast to themselves and set out together, wandering to the edges of town and a deserted road with bags on their shoulders and galleons in their pockets. "You don't think anyone will recognise us, do you?" Harry asked, desperately trying to flatten his hair over his scar. They'd at least managed to procure some coloured contact lenses to hide their distinctive eyes - Calla's were now a flat blue and Harry's a warm brown - but their faces were recognisable.
"If they do, we'll say we're perfectly within our rights to take the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley, because we are. We aren't breaking a single law."
"That's what you say now," Harry grumbled, and she cast him a cold glare.
"Might I remind you that you wanted to do this just as much as I did. And besides," she added with a frown at the open road before her, "the Ministry have their hands full enough."
"I'm not sure on that one," Harry said. "I hope your book list is worth it."
"It is," she said tensely, and stuck out her wand arm. Seconds later, the bright purple Knight Bus burst into view before them.
The doors were flung open and Calla folded her arms as Stan Shunpike leaned out. "Who've we got - Blimey!" His eyes widened. "It's Harry-"
"Yes, thank you," Calla said sharply, stepping up onto the bus, Harry at her heels. "We're headed to the Leaky Cauldron, if that's alright?"
"Right," Stan said. "That'll be, er, eleven sickles each." He glanced over their shoulder. "You ain't got no one following you, have you?"
"No," Calla said brittly. "As far as I'm aware."
Stan frowned, but Harry held out a handful of gleaming silver sickles and he let them on, albeit with a rather suspicious look over their shoulder. Calla shivered as they went inside and kept her head down, trying to avoid the curious glances. She knew most people would recognise her and Harry on sight, but thankfully the bus was quiet today, and they managed to hide up the back together. There was a bang as the bus lurched, and she felt a familiar sick twisting feeling in her stomach.
"I hate this bus," she moaned lowly to Harry, who nodded, staring out the window.
"Hate it," he echoed numbly.
There weren't many people on the Knight Bus at this time of day, and they were only on for half an hour or so before they stopped suddenly, and with the unstuck chairs sliding towards the front. Calla and Harry scrambled to get off as quick as they could, avoiding Stan's follow-up questions of, "'Choo really fight You-Know-Who again?" and "Ain't the Prophet saying you've lost it?" A small old lady who had gotten on near Whitehall fumbled off the bus after them, and Calla helped her down. Her eyes seeemd rather absent as they roamed her face, but caught on her scar.
She mumbled something indistinguishable and then meandered off into the pub. Calla hoisted her bag onto her shoulder as the bus disappeared, and glanced over at Harry. "Where to first? Flourish and Blotts?"
"Can we go to the Magical Menagerie first?" Harry suggested. "Otherwise I know you'll spend forever looking at books and forget, and Hedwig needs treats."
She grinned, but found herself looking over her shoulder warily. Stan had asked if they had someone following her, and she was sure there wasn't, but it had sent her nerves on edge anyway. "You're probably right," she said. "We should get inside the pub. I... I don't like being out in the open in London like this."
He nodded and they slipped inside. The Leaky Cauldron was slightly less busy than usual - though perhaps it was because it was a Tuesday, and not peak school shopping season - but that suited Calla quite well. No one except Tom the barman looked up when they entered, and he just nodded to them and went back to cleaning a glass. They passed through to the wall that guarded the entrance to the street, pulling the cloak over themselves and then making the wall disappear before heading through. Diagon Alley was still the bustling street it had always been, but this didn't comfort Calla.
"It's like nothing's changed," she murmured to Harry, as people pushed past her, catching her in a warm sea of bodies. Panic at being in such a crowd hit her suddenly, causing her throat to block, and she felt dizzy for a moment, stumbling over her feet as she and Harry pressed onwards.
Magic buzzed almost oppressively around her and the sheer number of people threatened to overwhelm her as she pushed her way through in a slight daze. The feeling of magic, being surrounded by it, filled her up and not in a nice way, and it crowded in around her. It reminded her jarringly of that night in the graveyard with the Death Eaters all around her, and she was powerless in the jostle of the crowd.
"Come on," she said urgently to her brother, who had been admiring the new Cleansweep, and pulled him along. "Keep your head down."
"What's wrong?" he asked, even though she could hardly begin to explain the rise of terror and dread that filled her standing here.
"There just... A lot of people," she said, eyes determinedly on the ground. She fumbled for the list of books that she had been keeping in her pocket, and then a familiar voice caught her ears. She glanced up, spotting long platinum blond hair. Her heart leapt sharply into her throat and she pulled Harry to the side, following a little ways behind them.
"I know it isn't ideal, Lucius," Narcissa Malfoy's voice said in a hiss. "But what must be done must be done."
"I'd feel better if you didn't have to be a part of this," Mr Malfoy said back, and his head turned, as though watching for eavesdroppers. His words were almost swallowed in the crowd anyway, but Calla and Harry were keeping silent now.
"As do I," Narcissa said tightly, "but as it concerns my sister..."
Her voice drifted away and Calla frowned, trying to listen closer. "...if Cornelius sees a hint... suspicious enough now..."
"Keep your voice down... Oh, and I must get some unicorn hair... For Severus... Draco's potion work..."
Their voices faded and Calla hung back with Harry, stopping him from following them into Gringotts. "Keep a low profile," she said, but was frowning after them. She hadn't known Narcissa Malfoy had a sister, not that she'd expected anyone to tell her so. But Lucius Malfoy's words about Cornelius Fudge worried her.
"I want to know what they're up to," Harry said and she nodded grimly.
"Me too. But we'd definitely get caught sneaking about in Gringotts, even with the cloak. There are too many enchantments. We'll have to tell Remus."
"Yeah," Harry muttered, "whenever he actually bothers to show up."
Calla grimaced, trying to push away her own frustration for the time being. "I have books to buy," she said shortly, "now, come on, the sooner we can get in and out the better."
They took the cloak off just as they crossed the threshold into Flourish and Blotts. A stack of Daily Prophets sat on a table at the entrance and Calla took one, combing through it. FUDGE DISCUSSES MACUSA'S RESTRICTION OF INFORMATION TO BRITAIN: ARE THE AMERICANS HIDING SOMETHING?
"They're blaming America now," she said with a scowl, seeing Fudge's accusations that the Magical Congress were refusing to hand over intelligence about some case of creature mishandling from the fifties. The fact that this was today's headline was saying something about how badly Fudge wanted to distract the public. "Oh, look at that, we've been compared to President Alaric. That's quite offensive."
"Didn't you say you had a list?" Harry asked, and Calla shot him another glare, setting the Prophet down and hurrying over to the section on Jinxes, Hexes, and Curses, and then on Occlumency. After gathering the four titles she had in those sections, she ventured deeper into the maze of tomes, Harry following frustratedly at her heels. She could tell he wanted to go out and do something, anything, and threw him a sympathetic look.
"I won't be long," she promised, finding the section on Ancient Studies, comprising both Ancient Runes and ancient forms of magic that Dumbledore had all too briefly alluded to. There, on the tallest shelf - Ancient Curses of Magic, Soul, and Blood. She tried reaching for it, but she was too short, and there were no stools anywhere near her. "For God's sake," she muttered, reluctant to speak to anyone for help - not that she could actually see any staff members nearby. The only other person here was Harry, who was watching her with a bemused sort of smile.
"Give me a hand then," she snapped, and he blinked.
"How?"
"I'll sit on your shoulders."
"You'll fall off."
"Not if you keep still. And you're even shorter than me, so you can't reach that book on your own. Unless you want me to stand on your back."
"All this for a book?" She glared at him frostily and he shuddered. "You look like Hermione when you do that. It's scary."
"Good."
He stopped slightly and she climbed on his back, reaching up to the tallest shelf. She glared at the book, which sat unmovingly up there, like it was teasing her, and in a sudden burst of frustration, pushed herself up, lunging forward to snatch it off the shelf, and sent both her and her brother sprawling to the ground. The stack of books fell from her grasp with a crash and she jumped back instinctively, heart hammering as her senses left her for a terrifying second, and then she came back to herself, blinking, clutching Ancient Curses to her chest.
"And what are you two doing?"
Her heart stopped for a second. She turned around. "Remus?"
Behind her, Harry fumbled with a couple of books that had fallen on top of him. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I could ask you two the same thing," Remus said, with his disapproving teacher face on. Calla's heart sank. "I thought you were told to stay in Little Whinging until we came to pick you up, were you not?"
"Yeah, well," Harry muttered. "We kind of thought you would have picked us up before now."
Remus frowned, looking rather sheepish, and Calla got to her feet. All the frustration she'd felt towards him over the last month welled up inside her but then disappeared just as quickly at the look on her godfather's face. "We just needed some time away," she said as smoothly as she could manage.
"You were meant to stay with Petunia," he said, still looking pointedly at Harry, disappointed. "I can't believe you would run off like this. It's irresponsible of you, Harry, I was so worried when I heard you'd left Little Whinging."
"It isn't Harry's fault," Calla said, staring at Remus, who turned to frown at her like he'd only started to consider her. "I suggested we come. And we didn't run off. We had a destination. Besides," she added to a surprised Remus, "it's not like the Dursleys care."
"You suggested this?" Remus asked, eyes wide.
"Yes!" She pouted. "Is that so hard to believe?"
Remus rubbed his temples. "You two get your books," he said finally. "And then we need to talk. Somewhere quiet. And preferably not in the middle of London. Dumbledore's been going out of his mind the last hour or so."
Calla scowled. "Poor Dumbledore."
"Calla-"
"Let's get these books, Harry," she said in a soft voice, eyes still fixed on Remus. "Then we'll talk."
Harry, who had been sitting on the floor through all of this with a look of bemused contemplation, now scrambled to his feet and followed after his sister, winding through shelves and shelves of books until they resurfaced into a part of the shop lit by actual sunlight rather than worryingly bright candles, and towards the till. The cashier, a young man seemingly just out of Hogwarts, barely spared them a glance, simply holding out his hand when he was done checking the books and saying in a bored tone, "Seven galleons, twelve sickles, and a knut."
Calla counted it out carefully, opting for thirteen sickles when she couldn't find any brown coins and grew increasingly flustered. "Keep the change," she told the surprised cashier as she dropped the coins in his hand, and he looked up properly for the first time.
His eyes widened. "Oi, aren't you-"
"Thanks!" Harry said quickly, grabbing the bag of books and then hurrying away with Calla just behind him.
Remus was waiting sternly by the door, eyebrows raised. "Well, I hope you got what you wanted," he told them clippedly. "Tell me, did you have any sort of contingency plan? Anything to defend yourselves with in the event that something went wrong?"
"Yes!" Harry said hotly. "We have our wands, we're not stupid!"
"And we knew no one would attack us in either Diagon Alley or on the Knight Bus," Calla added placidly before Remus could reply to Harry. "Not so long as Voldemort is still seemingly trying to keep a low profile, as you keep telling us he is in your letters."
He seemed to wince a little at the emphasis on letters, but recovered quickly. "Your wands can't always protect you," he said in a low voice, leading them along the side of the alley. "If you were put in a position where you had to use magic, the Ministry would find out through the Trace. Fudge is doing everything to discredit you, do you really want to give the Ministry a reason to go after you two?"
"Maybe we wouldn't have to if you'd bothered to tell us anything that was going on instead of leaving us to fend for ourselves," Harry shot back.
Remus sighed. "Come on," he told them, "we can't discuss this out here."
Five minutes later, they were seated in a private room at the Leaky Cauldron, frowning over cups of tea. Calla swilled the leaves around and felt a shudder go up her arm. "So," Harry said in a rough voice, "is there at least a good reason why this is the first time we've seen you all Summer?"
"The Order has been working hard," Remus said, slow, as though he was deliberating over his words. "But it is difficult to act when the Ministry is so determinedly ignoring any issues at hand." He sighed. "I think it goes without saying that you can't discuss this with anyone."
"Who would we have to discuss it with?" Calla asked bitterly. "It's not like we've seen anyone else."
"Ron and Hermione have been together all holidays," Harry said, "I'm sure of it. They don't say so, but it's pretty obvious."
Remus looked away awkwardly. "What you have to understand is this. For the time being, you two are targets of the Ministry. We can't do anything to put you in more danger than you already are in, and that includes staying with the Order. Dumbledore thinks - no, Dumbledore knows that you are safest with your aunt and uncle, for the time being."
"I don't care what Dumbledore thinks," Calla said sharply.
"Calla!"
"He's done nothing to help us either! And I told him we didn't want to go back there, but all he had to say was that... There's some protection that for whatever reason, I... I can't protect Harry." She glared at the table. "But I don't see why we can't be protected by whatever enchantments are in place to presumably protect the Order."
"I know," Remus said quietly. "But we have to trust in Dumbledore. If we can't trust him, then who can we trust?" Calla didn't answer, just tightened her jaw in frustration and tried to avoid Remus' gaze. She wasn't sure she did trust Dumbledore. "If it were up to Sirius and I, you would have come with us to Headquarters the moment you got off the Hogwarts Express. You know that."
"Then you should have done that," she said shakily. "Don't just... Show up now."
"How did you find us anyway?" Harry demanded, and Remus looked away shiftily.
"You think we haven't been at least keeping an eye on you both? I wouldn't leave you not knowing you had some protection."
"You've been following us?"
"Not me." Remus gave a small, mirthless, breathy laugh. "No, Dumbledore thinks Sirius and I are better serving... Separately. Away from you two. But the Order has been keeping tabs. You're not entirely alone."
"Even more reason you could have at least come to see us," Calla said lowly, looking across the table at him. "If you really wanted to."
"Of course I wanted to. And I'm here now because I was worried-"
"Because Dumbledore was worried?"
"Because I am worried about you. All we knew was that you'd run away on the Knight Bus, it's pure luck that we managed to get someone on the bus in time to see where you were going."
"We were followed on the bus?"
All of a sudden, Calla felt dreadfully uncomfortable. Nerves prickled over her arms and up the back of her neck. So they had been followed. They'd been being followed since the start of Summer, and they hadn't even truly realised. The idea of it scared her. "Yes. And I'm glad, or else I may never have found you until it was too late."
"We were perfectly safe," Calla said in a clipped voice. "And we weren't running away."
"You were safe," Remus said, "but don't you know how many people come through here every day? How many potential Death Eaters, just looking for something to report back to their master? How many Ministry workers searching for any reason to put you in trouble and earn kudos from Fudge? You have to be more careful."
"We were fine."
"But you might not have been." His eyes softened as he looked between them in concern. "I know this is difficult."
"You don't say."
"But you have to be careful. You can't just go running off. We'll see you when we can-"
"You said that before," Harry said coldly. "And yet this is the first we've seen you."
"I'm trying to talk Dumbledore around. After this I think he will see you need somewhere... But I can't promise anything. It isn't my decision to make."
"Well, maybe this is a good thing then," Harry said sharply. "We've been going nuts cooped up there!"
"Even so. I am trying. I need both of you to know that."
Calla pursed her lips and pointedly avoided looking at her godfather. Harry did the same. "The Order is carrying out a lot of very highly classified surveillance work. We're trying to get the word out about Voldemort's return, while keeping relatively under the Ministry's radar. We can't compromise our spies' positions."
"And this affects us, how?"
"Association with you two," he said, swallowing deeply, "is more or less the same as association with Dumbledore." Calla couldn't help the derisive laugh that bubbled out of her. "We have to bide our time."
"And why would we have to stay with the Order anyway?" Calla asked sharply. "Can't we just stay with you and Sirius?"
"Sirius and I have to stay at Headquarters," Remus said with a frown. "It's his family home and Dumbledore-"
"Yeah, Dumbledore says it has to be so," Harry said, rolling his eyes.
Remus sighed. "Trust that I am trying." Calla didn't meet his eyes. "What do you want to know?" he asked eventually, as both of them were determined in remaining silent.
"What you're doing," Harry said, "about Voldemort. And how we can help. You can't just keep us in the dark."
"I know. The truth is, I personally haven't been very involved in the exciting stuff. I've been reaching out to the werewolves. A lot of them were on his side last time, but Dumbledore thinks we could persuade more to our side with an insider." Even he had a bitter tone on Dumbledore's name now. "Some of our members are taking up work in the Ministry, trying to spread the word there..." He trailed off, like he was considering something.
"What?" Harry said, frowning.
"We're trying to figure out Voldemort's plans," he said delicately. "But for the moment there isn't so much I can say on that. But he's after followers, and he's after weapons." He caught Calla's eye then and frowned like he wanted to be more specific, but there was something holding him back. "Dumbledore isn't even telling us everything he thinks. But you two have to be careful. Were Voldemort or his supporters to discover you, they would try to capture you again. Wandering around London only puts you in more danger."
"We weren't wandering!"
"I know, I know." He shook his head. "Drink your tea before it gets cold."
They both obliged, and then Calla frowned. "Didn't you say Sirius' house was in London?"
Remus stiffened. "Yes."
"Well, surely we can come and visit. Right?"
"Dumbledore doesn't want you around Headquarters if you don't need to-"
"And what if we come to London anyway?" Harry said, catching Calla's eye. "We're here now, aren't we?"
"Yes," Remus said. "And you're going home in a minute."
"It's not home," Harry muttered.
Remus winced. "You know I wouldn't do this if it were up to me."
"But it is," Calla said, almost pleadingly. "Just because Dumbledore says you have to do something doesn't mean he's right! You don't have to do what he tells you to!"
"I trust Dumbledore. He has always been good to me and he's head of the Order. So in this instance... I do have to do what he thinks is best."
"Best for who?" Calla asked, and he didn't answer. She sighed, and took another sip of tea just for something to do.
"Can't you at least tell us what you're up to?" Harry pleaded. "You said the Order's trying to fight him. We could help!"
"You're too young."
They both scoffed at that. "Not according to Voldemort. He doesn't care. He tried to kill me when we were babies, do you really think our age is going to protect us?" Calla shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "We want to fight," Harry said.
"I know," Remus told him sternly. "But you two need to concentrate on keeping yourselves safe. Leave this to the adults. Dumbledore... Knows what he's doing."
Calla raised her eyebrows. "Does he?"
"Yes." Remus' voice was firm enough to tell them that the conversation was over. Calla didn't know if she wanted to keep fighting, just for the sake of feeling something, or if she wanted to give in because she didn't know if she could fight at all. "Come on, you two. I'd best get you back to Little Whinging before Petunia and Vernon realise you're missing."
"Not like they care," Calla pointed out. "I think they'd rather we got lost in London and got ourselves killed."
"Calla," Remus said sharply. "Enough."
"It's true," Harry muttered, but when Remus stood up they did the same. "I just think we have a right to know!"
"It's confidential and until we have a safe space to discuss it-"
"THEN TAKE US THERE!" Harry shouted, and Calla flinched at the sudden noise, knocking against the back of her chair. "WE DON'T CARE WHAT DUMBLEDORE SAYS, WE WANT TO BE WITH YOU AND WE WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON!"
"Harry, please keep your voice down," Remus said, trying to clap a hand on his shoulder, but Harry shrugged him off immediately.
"WHY SHOULD I?"
"Because these walls are regrettably thin and I wouldn't be surprised if there's a Prophet reporter on the other side," he said lowly, and Calla's stomach sank. Harry breathed in deeply, looking like he was trying very hard to keep his shouting in.
Calla grabbed her bag. "I guess we'll see you later then. Whenever Dumbledore decides it's safe."
"I'll take you back to Little Whinging," Remus said, looking pained. "You know if it were up to me-"
"You said that already," Harry told him.
"Dumbledore-"
"And that," Calla added, looking away. Why did anyone care so much what Dumbledore said? Why did it have to matter — how did he get to decide what was best for them, safest for them, even after failing so catastrophically? People just trusted him blindly, she realised as she went numbly toward the door. Even Remus. Even Sirius. She had too, once. But whether he had her best interests at heart or not, he'd failed her and her brother. And now he was keeping them at Privet Drive, and for what? So they could think on what had happened? Because he thought they were volatile and wanted to keep themout of the action. They'd already done their part, she thought bitterly. Now he was just waiting for the right moment to use them again.
When they re-entered the main pub, the close quarters and the crowd of over-interested patrons made Calla's skin crawl with dread. She felt ill at the sight of so many people, and perhaps it was only her imagination, but the magic around her was pressing in, too, making her nauseous. Remus took them silently onto the Knight Bus and neither twin spoke much, arms folded down the back of the bus while Remus attempted polite conversation.
They got off at the same spot just outside Little Whinging. "Thanks," she told Remus, not looking him in the eye.
"Both of you," he said as Harry started to walk away. "Listen to me. You mustn't run off again. I know you're upset with me, but you are in danger. Here, you are safe. Be careful, and look after each other."
"We're perfectly capable of that," Calla replied, glancing at her brother, who looked set to explode again.
"I know." He closed his eyes in frustration. "I will come and see you when I can."
"You said that already," Harry muttered. "And you didn't."
"Please." He shook his head. "Just... Be rational. Stay put, for now."
"Sure," Calla replied, pursing her lips, and took Harry's arm. "I guess we'll see you whenever Dumbledore decides."