Author's Note: Welcome back to chapter 3 of Book III! Things are now really underway, confrontations are to be held and secrets to be divulged. I want to thank you all for sticking around so far and I especially want to thank TheMushroomGuild and elentiyaronious for their absolutely lovely reviews of the previous chapter. Your enthusiasm is the reason why I share my writing! This one's for you! :)

August 4, 1996
London

In style, they spent the remainder of the ride to London in silence. On her part, Sophie examined a tourist map of London that she had bought that morning along with the clothes and headwear. She estimated it would be a brisk fifteen minute-walk from King's Cross Station to the safe house, assuming they did not get lost in London's many streets and alleys. Still, while she herself would not mind the walk, Sophie was unsure of her companions' views on the matter. What was more, fifteen minutes was a long time to be out in the open, and if what the newspaper had said was true, Voldemort had all but accepted the disappearance of the Malfoy mother and son. Besides, if her quick count of the cash in her wallet was correct, she should have just enough money to buy them three bus tickets to the Borough of Islington.

They arrived in London shortly after noon but despite their empty stomachs, did not dare to stop at busy King's Cross for lunch – nor did Sophie have that kind of money left anyway. Instead, the trio moved quickly through the crowd, following the signs that had the silhouette of a tiny bus on them. The wait for the bus was perhaps the most excruciating part, as the bus stop was crowded and on the edge of a large square. They had missed the first bus by a minute and had to wait six minutes for the next one to pull up to the curb. During those minutes, Narcissa and Draco stood still like statues, seeming utterly unnatural and out of place among the many tourists and London locals, both of their light eyes flashing around suspiciously. Infected by their hypervigilance, even Sophie thought at some point she saw a man watching them from across the street. Fortunately, just at that moment the bus arrived, and she shook her head to clear it from its delusions as she stepped up to the driver to buy their tickets.

It was a mere five minutes before they arrived at their stop, and another three before she spotted the "Grimmauld Place" street sign. Over the past minutes, she had felt Narcissa Malfoy's increasingly intense gaze upon her. Sophie had done her best to ignore it – up until now, as they stood in front of Grimmauld Place 11 and 13.

'It's not there,' she breathed, confusion and disappointment and something more intense that she couldn't let herself feel without breaking down completely battling as she stared at the neat dividing line between the houses where number 12 should have appeared to her.

'Well of course not,' Narcissa sniffed – and when Sophie broke her gaze from the dividing line between home 11 and 13, she noticed the woman was giving her a disdainful look that made Draco's withering glares and sneers seem like a bright and friendly smile. She might have cowed, were she not stunned by the fact that the woman seemed to know exactly what Sophie was looking for. And of course she did. 'Did you think my ancestors would have wanted their Muggle neighbours to come and call on them?'

'Ancestors?'

Narcissa nodded stiffly to her son in response, 'Grimmauld Place 12 is the ancestral home of the House of Black. It was made unplottable generations ago.'

'But then it should have been visible to us, but there is nothing there.'

'I imagine that effect being of a more recent nature, most likely when my late cousin inherited it.' Narcissa pursed her lips, 'I always imagined he would have used it for more… traitorous ends – I suppose that is why you have brought us here, haven't you?' Before Sophie could respond – another trait she seemed to share with her son – Narcissa frowned, 'Still, that would not explain its continued invisibility. Any protection set up by him should have faded when he died two weeks ago and the house passed to Bellatrix, the eldest remaining Black.'

'It hasn't,' Sophie said, now garnering the attention of not one but both Malfoys. 'Sirius left it to his godson. Moreover,' she started, swallowing as she realised that there would be no more pretending now, 'The reason that you cannot see it is that it was hidden by a powerful charm. I forgot its name but it makes that the house can only be found by someone who has been let in on the location by the Secret Keeper.'

'The Fidelius Charm.'

'I thought my knowing would be enough, but apparently…'

'But how…'

'Then tell us,' Narcissa interjected.

'I can't, I'm not the Secret K… Wait, no.' Sophie stopped, mind racing as she put the facts together. She had known the secret location of the Order of the Phoenix safehouse long before she came to this world – long before Dumbledore or whoever had cast the Fidelus Charm had even thought of doing so. In that way, he had cast the charm with her knowing, thus making her – in a way – a secondary Secret Keeper, albeit an accidental one. 'Grimmauld Place 12,' she tried, slowly, 'The secret location of the Order of the Phoenix headquarters is Grimmauld Place 12, London.'

As she spoke those words, two things happened. One, nothing at all, with the exception that Sophie realised that at the very least, she was exempt from the non-speaking rule. Second, both Narcissa and Draco turned back to numbers 11 and 13, eyes growing wide – almost as if a new house had suddenly appeared out of thin air. They stood like that for a moment, and Sophie suddenly became aware of the fact that they had been standing still suspiciously long for a couple of tourists in an ordinary neighbourhood.

Just then, Draco took a deep breath, 'Let's go, mother. We've been out here long enough.' As they crossed the street, he turned his head to Sophie, and hissed, 'You didn't tell me we'd be going to Order of the Phoenix headquarters.'

She shrugged, ready to provide some excuse if need be, when the people next to her suddenly vanished. She waited a second, even took a step forward, but nothing happened. 'Eh Draco?' She waited a moment, but no response came. Hoping that he was still out there somewhere, she continued quickly, 'I'm assuming the Unplottability remains unchanged for me. Could you just eh… grab my sleeve or something?'

Another second passed and she feared that she'd been to late – or that Draco had considered the request, and deemed it unnecessary. Then, she felt a hand wrap around her upper arm and she was drawn forward, into the shadowy hallway of a stately London townhouse.

August 4, 1996
London

The screaming started almost as soon as the door closed behind them – and Sophie was happy to note that at least the two Malfoys looked as startled as she felt.
'Vile, dirty freaks! Filthy half-breed and Mudblood scum!' The voice hollered, and Sophie now located it as coming from a large portrait down the hall, which depicted an older woman in black. 'How dare you defile this noble house with your…-'

'Walburga, what a pleasure,' Narcissa spoke with poise, adopting an attitude of complete calm and ease as she took a few steps forward into the darkened hallway, until she stood in front of the portrait. Not wanting to be left behind, Sophie and Draco inched forward, both sporting an expression of alertness. Draco, she noted, had also taken his wand out, though he kept it by his side for the moment.

'Narcissa dear, is that you?' The voice had now quieted down, and Sophie noticed in bewilderment how the old crone now smiled almost kindly at her younger relative. 'It is good…-'

A door opened at the end of the long, dark hallway, 'Remus, are you back already?' A matronly voice called and with a flick of her wand, drew close the heavy curtains in front of the portrait, 'How many times must I remind everyone not to use the front d…-' She stepped closer, wand now held out in front of her and an anxious expression on her face as her eyes flickered towards the still open door behind her. 'What are you doing here?'

'Molly Weasley,' Narcissa nodded – and Sophie wanted to slap both Slytherins over the head for not just taking on the role of a grovelling fugitive. Still, there was a wand trained on her, and with no way to defend herself, Sophie did not much feel like sticking her own neck out. Luckily, it appeared there must have been at least some sense left between the two Malfoys.

'We have come to seek shelter,' Draco said in a voice that sounded more like the Order should be grateful for their presence, rather than that he was asking them for something. Still, Sophie supposed it was something – and in the case of Draco Malfoy, perhaps the best she could hope for.

'Shelter? Who is to say you are not infiltrating for the Dark Lord?' Mrs Weasley shook her head, tightening the hold on her wand as she stepped closer and into the light cast by one of the overhead gas lamps, 'What proof do you have that you are not here to betray us all?'

'None but that we are here and not there, in our own home, where we had if not safety at least comfort.'

'Besides,' Draco drawled, 'I hardly think he would leave such an important task to a sixteen year-old boy.'

A long minute passed without reply, then, slowly, Mrs Weasley nodded. As she lowered her wand – though she did not put it away – she said, 'Put your wand away, then you may follow me.' She led them back to the door where she had first appeared through, and into a dining room which held a long wooden table with chairs and a dresser covering one long wall of the room. Like the hallway, the room seemed to be long beyond its prime, and despite the seemingly best efforts to clean it, looked desolate and neglected. 'You may wait here while I Floo Dumbledore.' When she left, a distinct click marking the (magical?) locking of the door behind her was the only sound to penetrate the silence.

The minutes that followed were outright uncomfortable, with no verbal language being exchanged, but the non-verbal being all the more palpable – and taking shape in two intense gazes, one of which was directed in her direction. She wanted to exhale loudly, perhaps making some kind of dry remark to relieve the tension, but for some reason that she did not understand at the time didn't. Later, lying in bed that night staring at the ceiling, she would realise that it was because before they had arrived at Grimmauld Place, she had been in charge. They had been in her world, where she was the leader and they had no choice but the follow. But after crossing the threshold of Grimmauld Place 12, things had changed. Despite her in-depth knowledge of the wizarding world, Sophie was very much an outsider. In here, she was out of her element, at the disadvantage, and utterly and fully out of her comfort zone.

'Out there,' Draco's voice suddenly penetrated the silence, 'How did you…-'

The door opened at that moment with a click, and Draco fell silent as Mrs Weasley stepped back into the room. 'Professor Dumbledore will not be able to Floo over until tomorrow morning,' she said, through pursed lips that seemed to Sophie very uncharacteristic on her round and kind face. 'He requested you stay here until then and that you'd be… well taken care off.' Her mouth twisted at these words, as if it physically nauseated her to say them. 'Now let me get one thing straight: you may stay here and use three of the bedrooms. I will even allow you to sit at our table tonight,' here she gestured towards the table they were currently seated at, 'But do not for a moment mistake our kindness for trust, our charitability for blindness. The only reason you are not locked up in one of the bedrooms until Dumbledore arrives is because of his expressed orders.'

Seemingly satisfied when her words were met with silence, Molly nodded 'Come along, I'll show you were you will be staying tonight.' They filed through the door and through the hallway soundlessly, none particularly wanting to reawaken the portrait of Mrs Black even when she seemed a little less horrible when speaking to Narcissa. When they had safely made it onto the creaky old stairs – and Sophie did her best at ignoring the shrunken heads of what she vaguely recalled were House-Elves that lined the wall – Mrs Weasley spoke again. 'We have done our best at removing all items of Dark Magic from the bedrooms and bathrooms, but I suggest you don't touch anything that you don't have to.' She did not say more while they climbed the stairs up to the third floor, where they arrived on a tall landing. 'There's a bathroom at the far end of this hallway. Draco, you may take the first door on the right. There should be two beds there; you're free to choose either. Narcissa, you may take Mrs Black's room – I take it you remember which it is.' At Mrs Malfoy's stiff nod, Molly added, 'I cleaned it out thoroughly, but you may find it to smell a little bit…. like Hippogriff.'

Mrs Weasley turned on her heel before the other woman had a chance to question her meaning – if she even would, Sophie rather thought Narcissa Malfoy was too proud for that – and Sophie was left to trail behind her as she descended the stairs again. They came to a stop on the first floor landing. 'You can stay in the second room to your left, there's fresh linen on one of the beds. The bathroom is the door immediately to your right. Please be mindful of the volume at which you close the doors; too much noise on this floor tends to awake the portrait of Mrs Black.'

She said all this in a prim, dry manner, and Sophie was so busy contemplating how different this woman was from the Mrs Weasley she recalled from the books and movies that she almost missed when the woman turned to leave.

'Mrs Weasley? I hope you don't mind me asking, but where is everybody? These are the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix after all, aren't they?'

Mrs Weasley did not respond immediately, but instead gazed at her for a long time – seemingly contemplating whether it would be safe to share such information. 'We vacated the headquarters one-and-a-half month ago, immediately after the death of Sirius Black, who the house belonged to. We did not want to risk being here if the house would be inherited by one of Sirius'… less savoury relatives.'

Sophie nodded, recalling what Narcissa had said when they were still out in the street. Following inheritance law, the house should have passed to the oldest remaining Black relative, which was now Bellatrix. She could quite understand why they would not want to be caught there by the derailed witch.

'I have only yesterday returned to start preparing it again for use. Remus – Lupin – shall be around for dinner as well, as will Auror Nymphadora Tonks. I will inform them of your presence as soon as they arrive.' She started to turn, but at Sophie's silence, gave her a curious, searching glance. 'You are not a Malfoy, are you?'

'I'm not. I'm… a friend of Draco's. I apologise for not introducing myself, my name is Sophie Cornwell.'

Mrs Weasley did not respond at first and Sophie dared say she looked almost incredulous – whether at the fact that Draco Malfoy had friends or that those friends included someone like her, she wasn't sure. Then she pursed her lips, 'Well then Sophie, pick a bed for the night and make yourself comfortable. I'll come and collect you when it's time for dinner.'