In which Ramona meets a new secret organisation
-December 1995-
Ramona had only ever been in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies once before when her uncle had sent a jinxed teapot in the post that spat acid across the room and it had burnt Regina so badly that she'd been permanently scarred. She wondered if Regina would have any lasting damage after this as well. It felt as if had been days since they'd taken her away on a magical stretcher, leaving Ramona in the waiting room with Moody who was perusing Witch Weekly of all things. Every time a Healer came out, Ramona would leap to her feet, wondering if there was news on Regina, but they never said more than that she was stable and needed her rest.
"Why won't they let me see her?" she asked Moody softly, sinking back down into her chair after having paced the room for the seventh time. "Does it mean something bad that they're trying to hide from me because they think I'm a kid?"
"You are a kid," he grunted, "and a whiny one at that."
"Sorry if my trauma annoys you!" she said a bit louder than she'd intended, garnering the attention of everyone else in the waiting room. "I was just tortured and almost killed, Merlin forbid I be a bit whiny about it!"
He rose to his feet, a menacing look in his eye, setting Witch Weekly aside. "Now, listen here, girlie-"
"Miss Ramona Burke?" They both wheeled around at the calling of her name. "Your sister is awake, she's on the fourth floor, Eleanor Povitsky Ward."
Before anyone could stop her, Ramona was tearing down the hall and up the stairs, lined with portraits of famed Healers, taking them two at a time, dodging others whose eyes followed her in bewilderment, Moody's wooden foot clanking and his annoyed mumblings in the distance. Finally, she reached the fourth floor, marked 'Spell Damage: Unliftable jinxes, hexes, incorrectly applied charms etc.' and pushed her way through the double doors framing the corridor, mind buzzing.
She scanned each door for the name of Regina's Ward until just before the door marked 'Janus Thickey', she spotted it. Moody had just reached the top of the stairs, wheezing somewhat, calling for her to slow down as she burst into the room, scaring an elderly Healer so much that the glass of water she'd been handing to a patient went flying.
It was a small, dark room, lined with three beds on either side and smelled faintly of smoke, possibly due to the young witch who occasionally sneezed flames into a deep-set bucket. In the bed closest to the door lay a quite peaky, but otherwise fine, Regina Burke. Her hair was limp and pulled back into a braid, her face wiped clean of dirt and blood, a thin white gown having replaced her usual brightly-coloured robes.
When she caught sight of Ramona, she tried to lift herself up from off her pillows, the Healer by her side gently pushing her back down. "Mona!"
"Gina!" Ramona fell into her sister's bandaged arms and held on as if she feared they might be forced apart. "I was...I thought...I was scared."
And she had been, which was saying something as Ramona made a point never to lose herself to fear as it did nothing but make things worse. As she'd newly learned, easier said than done when you had Death Eaters on your doorstep. To think, she'd thought Umbridge was as foul a human could get.
Regina softly pulled away, looking more grim than Ramona had ever seen her. "I'm sorry, Mona, for dragging you into this."
"Don't, it was me screaming that got us in trouble."
"It wasn't you," Regina said simply, with an air of finality that suggested she was not going to elaborate further, busying herself with fixing Ramona's frizz and tangles and the larger pieces of debris which had gotten caught in them.
Moody had finally caught up, wheezing a bit, sinking into one of the chairs by Regina's bed as soon as he got there. "What's the damage, Burke?"
"Nothing too severe, they healed my physical injuries no bother but they want to keep me overnight to check for brain damage."
Ramona almost choked on her own saliva. "Brain damage!"
Several Healers shushed her with disapproving looks.
"Yes," Regina said softly, "the Cruciatus Curse does that sometimes...when used excessively. But I think I'm fine, tip-top shape, just a bit tired."
The pit in her stomach grew heavier and she held to her sister's hand a bit tighter. "No offence, but you don't look it."
"Bitch."
"I said 'no offence'!"
"Everyone knows that really means 'full offence intended'!"
"Shut up, the pair of you," Moody growled. "I can see the family resemblance, is incessant talking genetic?"
Regina gave a small little sigh and pulled her hand out of Ramona's. "Can you give us a few minutes alone, Mona?"
She looked from one to the other, unsure of how to feel at the sudden tensity in the air. "Is this secret organisation stuff? Can't it wait for somewhere less public? Not very secret then."
"None of your business!" Moody barked, gesturing her towards the door. "Wait in the hallway."
Ramona stood silently as he clicked the door closed behind her, leaving her in the empty hospital corridor, mind racing with questions, her heart thundering. She pressed her back to a section of the wall that did not have a portrait on it and sunk down to the floor. Eyes fixed on her jeans, she realised with a jolt that she hadn't changed out of her torn, dirty clothes yet, nor had she showered. She was sure she must have smelled foul. She lifted up her stained hoodie and gave it a cautionary sniff, something tumbling from the pocket in the process.
Sugar Quills. She laughed dryly, of course this was the one time she didn't lose them. They had been smashed to bits inside their packaging, probably from the numerous times she'd fallen or been thrown around like a rag doll. A shiver ran up her spine, blood stained teeth flashing briefly in her mind. No, she didn't want to think about it anymore, not unless she wanted to burst into tears in public. Now that would be the embarrassing cherry on top of her horrific day.
Footsteps echoed up from the stairwell, two pairs if she thought right, one seemingly wearing heels. She glanced up, wondering if people-spotting could help keep her mind off the attack. Onto the fourth floor stepped two people, an elderly woman, stern in the face, wearing a massive stuffed vulture atop her tight grey curls, and a young boy, her age, round-faced with an odd solemnity in his eyes. It took a few seconds for her brain to register her recognition.
"Longbottom?" She said softly, bringing their footsteps to a halt.
He slowly turned to face her, a look of pale horror upon his round face.
"Oh, Neville, is this one of your friends from school?" The woman beside him, his grandmother she assumed, said, smiling tautly at Ramona.
"Er-Ramona Burke," she stammered, stumbling back to her feet, wondering briefly if she should offer her hand before remembering the dried blood that had seeped into every line on her palm and decided she'd rather not be bombarded with questions into her wellbeing.
A look of vague recognition and slight wariness flashed in her eyes. "Ah yes, you're in Slytherin, aren't you?"
"Uh...yes, ma'am."
She opened her mouth, about to say something, when her grandson cut across. "You go on ahead, Gran, I'll be there in a few minutes."
She gave him a prolonged look before trotting further down the hall and disappearing into one of the other wards, red leather bag swinging on her arm. Ramona wasn't quite sure what to say to the boy, it was clear his gran wasn't her biggest fan, owing perhaps to the fact that she hadn't exactly been the kindest to Neville in previous years. The shame made her feel nauseous.
"What're you doing here?" He said slowly, fidgeting with the hem of his knitted jumper.
"My sister," she said simply, trying not to choke on her words, "we were just attacked."
His gaze softened considerably. "Are you...okay? What happened?"
"I'm fine!" she said, a tad louder than she'd intended. "Just a bit scratched up, shaken as well I suppose. Regina, my sister, should be fine too, they said, they're keeping her overnight...checking for brain damage."
She wasn't sure whether to tell him the full story. He'd be weirded out enough if she said it'd happened in Knockturn Alley, she didn't want him thinking that Regina was a dark witch. Though, maybe it didn't matter, surely she would be expelled from school, likely to never see him again, she'd cast underage magic, two spells so she doubted she'd get a warning.
"Oh," he nodded awkwardly, "I'm sorry."
"Why're you sorry?" she'd said, a horrible edge to her voice that made him flinch. "Why're you always sorry?"
"I-I just...I just am...sorry."
"Don't apologise for apologising," she sighed, suddenly unable to meet his eyes, "I shouldn't have snapped, I'm just like this raging hurricane of emotions at the moment...I also get really grouchy when I haven't showered in a while."
To her immense relief, Longbottom gave a little laugh, even if it was only out of pity it made her feel a little better.
"Anyways, why are you-"
The door to her left swung open with a bang as it hit the wall, Moody walking out. He grabbed her tight by the arm and began to haul her away towards the stairs. "Come on, girl."
She tried to wrench herself free, to no avail. "Hey! I was in the middle of a conversation! Aren't you at least going to let me say goodbye?"
"No."
Ramona felt jumpy as she packed up her trunk, even with Moody standing guard by the door. He refused to tell her where he was bringing her and a part of her was terrified he was handing her off to her parents. She hadn't any other close relatives and there was no chance Delilah's or Cho's families would take her in. Hogwarts might have let her wait out the rest of the holidays there if she hadn't cast underage magic. She debated making a run for it, snapping her wand and living out the rest of her life as a Muggle. That was if Voldemort didn't kill and/or enslave them all.
"Have I been expelled?" she asked quietly, rolling up her socks.
Moody turned to look at her, his magical eye pointing to the back of his head, still keeping an eye out. "Dunno, why?"
"I cast underage magic."
He gave a barking laugh. "What spells?"
"Bombarda and Stupefy," she began scouring the broken remains of the coffee table in search of her Charms homework. "Could I make a case and say it was in self-defence? Or would the Ministry try and spin it that Dumbledore is breeding dangerous kids, that's why Umbridge is there. Is it better not to fight it?"
"No need," he said in a tone that suggested she was stupid. "Trace doesn't work like that, can't pinpoint who did the underage magic, too many in Knockturn Alley to narrow it down to you. They would've sent an owl by now telling you about the expulsion if they had."
Though relief settled upon her, anger flared as well. "But in that way, they can only really punish muggle-borns or half-bloods for underage magic, it's systematic injustice!"
"Take it up with the Minister."
"I would if he wasn't such a bumbling imbecile," she shut her trunk closed with a snap. "Stupidity is dangerous, stupidity is what gives people like You-Know-Who the chance to do as they please."
"Don't you have a diary or something for writing down all your monologues?"
She now understood how Fake-Moody had gone the whole year undetected, he'd had the gruff, demeaning attitude down to a T. "Whatever, let's go."
Ramona took a final lingering look at what remained of Regina's flat, smashed furniture, their poor ruined Christmas tree, the cup of tea she'd never had a chance to make. It was weird, that so much had happened in so little time, it couldn't have been after seven. She wondered if Bacon would be able to find her at this new secret location, he'd been out dropping off a letter to Cho. Would he presume her dead and fly off to live in the wilderness, settle down with a nice fellow owl, make a home? With a sigh, she held tight to Moody's left arm as they spun on the spot and Disapparated, leaving the flat behind forever.
They reappeared on a seemingly regular muggle street, tall houses with shining golden windows, a dog barking in one of the gardens, just blocking out the faint sound of passing traffic. Ignoring the nausea of her swirling stomach, she peered around in great interest at some odd round discs they all had fixed to their roofs, she made a mental note to ask Professor Burbage about them when she came back to school as she doubted Moody knew or cared what they were. He was already several feet ahead of her, keeping to the shadows.
"Where are we?"
"Shut up...I saw that!" She'd forgotten about his magical eye for a moment and flipped him off.
"What are you doing?"
"I said shut up!"
Ramona repressed the urge to mock him and instead sighed heavily, feeling the full weight of the day's events upon her shoulders. Merlin, she was tired. She wanted nothing more than to lie down right there on the concrete and just pass out for several hours, unfeeling and weightless without the worries that plagued her mind. She felt as if she'd aged ten years in the span of only a few hours.
She sat down atop her trunk and sighed, breath swirling before her in a foggy cloud, letting her eyes rest shut for a few moments when a loud crack came from several feet behind her, the shock sending her tumbling to the ground. It was the witch from earlier with the bright violet hair, now looking considerably more ruffled, her shirt untucked and ink smudges staining her right cheek.
"Wotcher, I've got it, told Dumbledore the whole thing, says he'll come over as soon as he can," she walked past Ramona with a terse smile and handed something over to Mad-Eye."
"Voice down, Nymphadora!"
In the pale light of the flickering streetlamp, Ramona watched in amazement as the woman's hair turned bright scarlet. "Don't call me that!"
"Stop complaining and hurry up!"
Nymphadora, though she didn't seem to appreciate being referred to as such, made an odd growling noise in the back of her throat and made her way back to an extremely lost and confused Ramona Burke. She dug in her pocket and held out a folded slip of paper. "Don't listen to him, you can call me Tonks. Read that and memorise it."
"Tonks suits you better anyways." Having lived in a world of magic her entire life, this was not the weirdest thing she'd been asked to do so she carefully took a small slip of paper from Tonks and read over the words in the dim light.
The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
"Hey, isn't that-"
"Shut up, not here," Moody had made his way over, snatched back the piece of paper and set it aflame with the tip of his wand, making sure it had disintegrated into ashes before he took her by the crook of her elbow and dragged her forwards while Tonks took her trunk and empty owl cage.
As she neared the neat row of houses, each numbered, she noticed that quite peculiarly, there was no number twelve, the houses marked eleven and thirteen came one after another or maybe Muggles had a different number system. She was sure, at least, that this seemed to be a Muggle community, broken windows had been patched up with pieces of cardboard, distinctly Muggle music drifted down from an open window above her and circular dishes were mounted atop their roofs. They led her up between the houses marked eleven and thirteen and Moody nudged her in the side of her rib cage.
"What?"
"Don't 'what' me! Think about what you just memorised."
She resisted the urge to say something snarky back and recalled the words. To her surprise, a battered old door began to squeeze its way in between the other houses, then grimy-looking windows and chipped brick, a whole house appearing out of nowhere. She was starting to wonder if today was a fever dream. The house looked abandoned, and filthy, surely this was not their Headquarters?
Moody tapped the door with his wand and a series of metallic clicks from behind the door followed before it cracked open. "In you get."
The room she entered was dim and smelled damp and dusty, a bit like an old broom cupboard. The door closed behind her with a click and she jumped involuntarily, wondering if the house was now deflating on the outside. She felt Moody clunk past her and heard a soft hissing sound before light sprang to life along the walls, revealing all-too familiar decoration. It looked just like her grandmother's house, gothic architecture, dark woods, embellished snake heads everywhere you looked. It brought back darker memories of tiptoeing around and whispering for fear of at best being yelled at. It seemed kinda ironic that the Headquarters of this infamous group was located in a house that was clearly once in the possession of blood purists, she was sure its previous owners were turning in their graves.
Moody ushered her down the hall and then down a steep flight of stairs, the walls lined with what was surely dark artifacts, and through a weathered looking door into what must have been the kitchen. It was decently sized with rough-looking stone walls, various pots and pans hanging from the tall ceiling like stalactites in a cave, a large fire at the end of the room being the main source of light. As she entered, several familiar pairs of eyes stared back at her over their food, arranged either side of a long wooden table that felt a little out of place in the cavernous room.
A loud crash and exclamation of pain sounded from the hall, everyone along the table bringing hands over their ears in anticipation as a shrill, banshee-like, shriek, consumed the air. Ramona winced as two men leaped to their feet and legged it out of the kitchen.
"MUDBLOODS AND BLOOD TRAITORS AND HALF BREEDS IN THE ANCIENT AND MOST NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK SULLYING THE HALLS OF MY ANCESTORS! FILTHY ABOMINATIONS-"
"Sorry about that, I dropped the trunk." Tonks appeared behind them, red in shame and humiliation.
"What...was that?" Ramona was starting to feel lightheaded.
"My mum."
Ramona wasn't quite sure who she'd been expecting to see when she turned around but the mass murderer Sirius Black had not been what she'd had in mind. He looked far more well-groomed than his wanted posters, hair now trimmed, face clean, though Azkaban had clearly left its mark in the form of sunken cheeks, dark eye bags and more wrinkles than you'd expect of someone his age. "Oh. Okay."
"How's Regina?" Ramona's head snapped at the familiar voice, if she wasn't hallucinating right then, that was her old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin.
"She's fine," Moody clunked his way to the table, leaving poor Ramona to flounder in between a mass murderer and her old professor who'd been outed as a werewolf. "Complaining and whining more than ever."
Just when she thought her day couldn't any weirder, a large red-haired woman, ushered her to the table, commanded a sulking Ron Weasley out of his chair, and thrust a plate of food into her hands. "Oh, you poor thing, you're shaking dear, did Mad-Eye not explain everything?"
"Um...no. No, he didn't."