Author's Note: Happy New Year! I actually meant to have this update published on New Year's Day, but you know what they say about "the best laid plans of mice and men." Anyway, I've been sick this past week, and finally rallied enough to get this submitted. Please enjoy this short chapter as a teaser for what's to come!

Chapter Eighty-Nine - Extendable Ears

It was the hottest day of the summer, but the sweltering heat had no impact on Harry Potter. He had not been permitted to stir beyond the walls of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place since his arrival four weeks ago. He was starting to feel like a prisoner in his own home.

However, his was not a solitary confinement. At the moment, his two best friends, Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode, were seated on the floor by Harry's feet. From his vantage point on the sofa, Harry could read the headlines of the newspaper in Millie's hands, but he didn't bother casting his gaze over her shoulder. If Lord Voldemort's return had been discovered, the news would have been on the front page. Instead, he allowed Millie to peruse the rest of the articles undisturbed, knowing that she was searching for some mention of a disappearance, disaster, or unexplained death.

They had all been waiting for bad news since the start of the summer, and it was only a small blessing that they had no further articles from Rita Skeeter. Harry smiled as he thought about his other friend, Eleanor Willoughby. When he'd last seen Nell at King's Cross Station, she'd had the notorious reporter trapped in an unbreakable glass jar, disguised as a beetle. Harry wondered how Nell and her new pet were getting along now. She lived with her Muggle parents when not attending Hogwarts, and was probably just as anxious for news as he was.

There was no way of asking her. Harry hadn't received a single letter from Nell all summer. Harry might have established a correspondence himself, had not Remus forbidden it. It was too risky to exchange letters now, he had said. Any information could be intercepted.

Consideration for his absent friends inevitably led to thoughts of Hermione. Not for the first time, Harry's mind drifted to the kiss she'd given him as they stood on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. It had only been a slight kiss on the cheek, but did it mean anything more? Or had she just been feeling sorry for him after what he'd been through?

Harry wondered bitterly if she was writing to Viktor Krum in his absence, then felt guilty for even thinking of it. He had no cause to be jealous of Viktor, whom he had always rather admired, but that didn't start the dark feeling from recurring anyway.

"Any luck?" he asked Millie in an attempt to distract himself from such thoughts.

Millie sighed and put the paper aside. Harry knew what her answer would be even before she shook her head and replied with a simple, "Nothing."

"What about you?" Harry asked, turning his attention toward Blaise.

"Shh!" he chided, waving one of his hands impatiently, "I'm listening!"

Blaise was holding one end of a long, pale string to his ear. The other end had been passed under the door leading from the parlor into the next room. The dining room had always struck Harry as rather formal and forbidding, even after all of Sirius's renovations. They almost never used it, preferring the simple rough-hewn table in the warm, welcoming kitchen. But today the room was in use, the children unceremoniously banished. As such, it was only natural that they try their hand at spying.

Harry and Millie immediately fell silent, watching Blaise intently to see what he had to report. But after a few seconds of tense silence, Blaise shook his head and muttered, "No good. Remus must have charmed the door."

Harry flopped back onto the couch with a groan and beat his fists against the sofa cushions like a temperamental child, "I can't believe they won't tell us what's going on!"

Blaise began reeling in the string, pausing only to offer Harry a sympathetic pat on his knee, "I know, I know. It's aggravating. But on the positive side, these Extendable Ears the twins made are useful, aren't they? We should take a few of them to school…"

"Sure, if you pay up," chorused two identical voices.

Harry turned his head to see Fred and George Weasley framed in the doorway leading to the hall. The twins stared disapprovingly at the trio.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's wrong to steal, Zabini?" asked one of the twins. Harry still couldn't tell them apart.

"She might have, if she wasn't too busy helping your mother keep you lot in line," Blaise retorted.

The Weasley family, or rather most of them, had been staying at Grimmauld Place for nearly as long as Harry had. It all began with Mrs. Zabini. In seeking alliances within the Ministry of Magic, she had discovered that Arthur Weasley was partial to Muggles and Muggle-born wizards alike. It had not made him popular among his colleagues at the Ministry, where sympathy with Muggles was not in vogue, but it was enough for Mrs. Zabini to approach and eventually recruit him to their cause. Mr. Weasley accordingly arrived on their doorstep with his wife and four of his children, ready to assist in any way he could. Even his oldest boys, Bill and Charlie, had pledged their support. They often popped in on business, but never stayed long.

"Did you at least hear anything interesting?" asked the second of the twins. He nodded significantly toward the closed dining room door.

"It's no good. They've blocked the door, somehow."

Blaise had finished winding up the Extendable Ear and held it out toward the nearest of the twins, but they waved him away.

"Yours for ten galleons," they said in unison.

It was robbery, and Blaise knew it. But as the heir to several wealthy and deceased step-fathers, Blaise had never hurt for money. He obligingly reached into the pocket of his robes without question and handed the gold coins to the astonished twins. They looked as if they hadn't expected their request to yield such lucrative results.

Harry eyed Blaise, who merely shrugged as he pocketed the device. "It's a good investment."

A moment later, they heard two voices arguing in the hall.

"... Still can't believe she'd bring her here!"

"You forget that I'm still the secret keeper. I'm as much to blame as Edana."

It was Sirius and Remus. Harry could hear the anger in his godfather's voice as he said, "You realize you're compromising this entire operation? Not to mention Harry's safety! How can you be sure she can be trusted?"

Remus's voice was calm, but Harry could tell he was stretched to the end of his patience as he replied, "I trust Edana's judgement. And Dumbledore himself consented to their coming. What more do you want?"

"Only to be consulted before inviting people into my house!" Sirius said vehemently.

"Don't forget that you volunteered!" Remus shot back.

They all heard the sound of a door opening. For a brief second, they could hear a woman sobbing in another room, then the door swung shut and the sound was abruptly silenced.

Remus must have gone in alone, as Sirius appeared a minute later. Harry and his friends attempted to look casual as Fred and George Weasley quietly slinked away. Sirius wasn't buying their act.

"How much have you heard?" he asked, his voice still hard from the argument with Remus.

"Enough to know there's trouble," Harry replied, "Are they staying?"

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck as he sighed. "I'm afraid we have no choice. They already know about this location. It's too dangerous to let them leave."

"But what if they're spies?" Harry argued.

"I know. But that's all the more reason to keep them close, see?"

Harry did not see, but he didn't want to argue with his godfather. He knew Sirius was just as angry over the situation as Harry was himself.

Sirius had become as much a prisoner of his home as Harry. He had volunteered Grimmauld Place as a secure base for those who would oppose Lord Voldemort, but it was clear that he had expected to do more for the cause than act as a mere housekeeper. Unfortunately, Sirius was a former escapee of Azkaban. Although he had been cleared of all charges, his face had been plastered on posters all over England a mere two summers ago. He had also fought Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters when Voldemort had been at the height of his powers. Dumbledore felt he was too high-profile for the sort of work he needed done now.

Harry sympathized with his godfather's plight. He had been longing to assist in the fight, but there had been no battles, only secret meetings that the young people were not allowed to attend. And all the while, Voldemort was out there, gathering his followers and plotting who knew what atrocities. Harry felt powerless.

But sympathizing with his godfather did not make him enjoy the task Sirius was about to set for him any easier.

"We'll put him in your room, Harry."

Harry leapt up from the sofa. "No way."

Sirius gave him a cajoling look and said, "Not every room is fit for guests. We've already had to shuffle around to make room for the Weasleys. It makes sense for him to share with you and Blaise."

"No," Harry stubbornly insisted, "Make him share with Ron!"

"Ron's already sharing with his brothers," Sirius said, a note of impatience creeping back into his voice.

"Then he can sleep on the sofa, for all I care!" Harry said angrily.

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose, heaved a sigh, and conceded, "Fine. I'll figure something out. Where is he now?"

"Kitchen," Harry said shortly.

"Then can you at least go there and keep an eye on him while I talk to Remus? I don't like that you left him alone."

Harry, still upset but aware that tensions were running high, decided to obey this request. He signaled to Blaise and Millie, who followed him past Sirius and into the hall. They passed Kreacher on their way. The old house elf was muttering something to himself about his master's locket, which Harry pointedly ignored. His mind was elsewhere.

They pushed through the door at the end of the passage and found their guest exactly where they had left him. Sitting alone at the heavy wooden table, staring blankly into a mug of cold chocolate, was Draco Malfoy.