Chapter 7: Burrowing In
Darkness. A firm yet soft surface beneath him. Where was he? Something didn't feel right. It was too soft. The air seemed somehow empty. It was nice, though. Peaceful. Something seemed strange about how peaceful it was.
Then a flood of memories came rushing back to him. He wasn't in Azkaban anymore-- Ginny had rescued him-- Ginny and Fred and George and Neville and all the others-- and they had come back to the Burrow with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and-- where was he, anyway?
Harry sat up in bed-- for, as he now realized, he was in a bed-- and tried to piece together his memory of what had happened. He had come to the Burrow… Mrs. Weasley had hugged him… Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore were there too… he had come inside… he remembered seeing a soft couch in their living room… and then what? He couldn't remember. Had he fallen asleep on the couch? He supposed he must have. He felt the bed beneath him again. It was a bed, all right. Somebody must have carried him there. He listened for a moment. He couldn't hear anyone breathing, so he was apparently alone in the room. Was this Ron's room? He couldn't tell.
Instinctively he reached for his wand, to light it and see where he was. But the wand was not in his pocket. Of course. They had taken it away when they took him to Azkaban. He shifted over to the edge of the bed, feeling helpless. And weak. Very weak.
Suddenly he felt like he wanted something. Somehow he wanted food, but didn't feel hungry. He wanted a glass of water, but didn't feel thirsty. And, more than anything else, he wanted to talk to somebody. He wanted to talk about what was going on, to tell somebody what it was like in Azkaban, to find out from somebody what was going to happen.
And so he got up to walk downstairs.
* * *
But actually walking downstairs turned out to be a bit of an adventure. For one thing, he really was feeling quite weak; and for another, he had not the faintest idea how to turn on the lights. Blindly he groped his way to the door. He had to feel along the walls for a while until he found it. Slowly his eyes were becoming acclimated to the darkness; it was a cloudy night with no light of moon or stars to help him, but the dim glows of Muggle cities on the horizon were providing enough illumination that, by the time he reached the door, he could at least see a faint and blurry outline of it.
Unfortunately, once outside the door (which creaked a bit as he opened it), he found that even to his darkness-acclimated eyes the light was insufficient to show him where the stairs were. He turned to his right, and stumbled. Oops-- apparently the stairs were going up that way. He reversed field, putting out his arm to try to find the opposite wall. There was a handrail-- good. That would help. Slowly and with great caution he worked his way down the stairs, stumbling once about two flights down when he didn't realize he was at the landing and his foot met floor faster than he expected it to. After three more flights, he found that the floor had leveled off and was starting to slope up. Ah-- he knew where he was now. He was in the passageway that led to the Weasleys' kitchen from the bedroom wing of their house. He had walked through this passage many times before. It was a comforting feeling.
Then he found himself coming out into an open place. Yes, this was about right-- this was where the kitchen ought to be. He groped around. He had reached his goal, but, not having been to the Burrow for almost a year, he seemed unable to remember where there ought to be a chair, or a table, or a glass of water, or-- or, most importantly, a way to turn on the lights. For at least a minute he stood there stupidly.
Then he heard a noise from somewhere upstairs. He turned around. A series of creaking footsteps-- someone was coming! The person seemed to have reached the bottom of the stairs-- they were coming through the passageway-- they reached the kitchen-- and a soft female voice said, "Is that you, Harry?" The voice really sounded warm and pleasant. Then-- brilliant, dazzling light. The row of candles encircling the Weasleys' kitchen had magically illuminated. Harry blinked repeatedly, trying to adjust to the light. He looked up and saw a reddish blur. Only then did he realize he didn't know where his glasses were. Suddenly he realized to whom the voice belonged. Wait a minute, he thought, that's just--
"Hello, Ginny," he replied.
* * *
"Hi, Harry," she whispered in reply, her hand still on what would have been a normal Muggle light switch except for the fact that when Mr. Weasley installed it he hadn't realized that Muggle light switches usually went up for "on" and down for "off." Harry, still blinking, tried to make his eyes focus, but they just wouldn't do it. He needed his glasses.
"Did you need anything? Something to eat, or drink, or… anything? Mum was so worried about you yesterday."
"Yes… no… yeah, well… I dunno, I guess." Harry felt stupid. He wasn't sure what he had really come downstairs for, now that he thought about it. "What time is it?"
"It's a little after three-- can't you see Dad's new clock? Oh! Of course… your glasses! Where are your glasses, Harry?"
"I dunno." He was really feeling quite stupid. He had no idea where his glasses were, or his wand, or… anything. It was a very helpless feeling.
"Hold on then, I'll get them for you." Ginny rushed upstairs to what Harry supposed must have been Ron's room. He looked around, feeling a bit wobbly on his feet, and found a chair to sink into. Ginny came back a minute later with Harry's glasses.
"Thanks," said Harry as the world came back into focus. "By the way… you don't happen to know what happened to my wand, d'you?"
"Oh, Harry," Ginny replied mournfully, "I'm sorry… they broke it when they sent you to Azkaban. Mr. Malfoy made sure of that. Ron's told me about your wand and You-Know-Who's. So I'm sure You-Know- I mean, Voldemort" (she shivered, but only slightly this time) "was happy with him." She reached into the pocket of her dressing gown and handed Harry two pieces of holly, about five and one-half inches each. Harry could see that the precious phoenix feather inside was also broken. "Dad managed to get a hold of them at the Ministry last week," Ginny explained.
There was a moment's silence.
"Do you want something to eat, Harry? Or to drink? You must be starving."
"Er… well… I mean, I feel weak and all, but… but not really hungry or thirsty. I'm not sure I could eat anything if I tried."
"Harry, you have to try. We can't let you starve. Mum left lots of food in the icebox. Some chicken, maybe? Or bacon and eggs? I know how to cook those. Or just a sandwich?"
He shrugged. "Er… maybe just a glass of water. Think that's about all I can manage."
"Harry, if all you can do is drink something, at least make it something with some nourishment to it. We have lots of pumpkin juice, that's nourishing."
"At least give me a bit of water first. I'm not sure if my stomach can handle anything more."
"All right, then." Ginny poured Harry a small amount of water from a jug. At first he tried to gulp it down like a starving man, but even though it was only a few ounces he found himself slowing down before he finished it. He was gasping for breath, exhausted, by the time he put the glass down. Ginny laughed sympathetically and poured him some pumpkin juice.
Harry looked at the juice in his glass and felt as overstuffed as he usually did after the Welcoming Feast at Hogwarts. "Ginny, I'm sorry-- I don't think-- I couldn't--"
She laughed again. "That's okay," she reassured him. "Just a little sip every few minutes. You'll get through it."
There was another silence. It felt more awkward this time, like there ought to have been something for them to talk about but neither of them could think of what it was. Finally Ginny broke the silence.
"So, Harry… did you eat anything at all in Azkaban? You looked a starving wreck when I found you there. Still do, really."
"I dunno…." He didn't want to remember Azkaban, didn't even want to think about it. "Some bread… and water. But it was… it was like… I didn't want to eat anything."
"What was it like there?" she asked with what looked like an almost morbid curiosity, and then added, "…if you don't mind my asking, that is."
"Well…." He thought for a moment. "No, I don't mind you asking. That's… that's quite all right. It was like… well, you know what it's like when a Dementor comes around?"
Ginny nodded, looking properly horrified.
"Imagine hundreds of Dementors swarming around, day and night. That makes it enough of a prison right there, I guess. It was like… it was… all I could remember was the worst things that ever happened. Especially Voldemort killing my mum. And my dad. And the thing with Cedric. And-- well, lots of other things." He thought a moment. It seemed like a fair question to ask. "Ginny… what d'you hear when the Dementors come around?"
Ginny looked embarrassed, but steeled herself to answer the question. "Well, you remember that time on the train?" Harry nodded. He could never forget it. It was the first time he had ever encountered a Dementor. "That time I heard… I heard Tom-- Riddle, that is-- laughing at me as he came out of the diary. But when we came to get you in Azkaban… well… I'm sorry, Harry, but… well I heard a bit of Riddle that time too, but mostly… well…." She paused to take a breath, and looked away from Harry. Then the words came out in a rush: "I heard Mr. Malfoy reading your letter."
Harry thought for a moment. The realization set in on him. Hearing what he had written to Sirius had been the worst moment in Ginny's life, worse than nearly dying in the Chamber of Secrets. "Ginny-- I'm sorry-- I don't know-- I didn't mean--"
"I know you didn't mean it that way," Ginny explained patiently, "but… ohh, it was awful. Don't worry, I'm not upset anymore, even though I was. I'm over it now. I know, you've never had anybody to talk to about these things, and all that, but… just so you know…."
"Yeah," Harry nodded, "I know. That was… well, it was actually one of the things I heard a lot of in Azkaban. Lucius Malfoy reading the letter, I mean. That is, it was like I knew you and everybody were getting hurt, and it was all because of how stupid I'd been, and I couldn't do anything to stop it."
"Yeah. Well." Ginny paused for a moment. "I guess it worked, though."
"How d'you mean?" asked Harry, curiously.
"Well, it's like, if you wanted to get rid of that stupid little-girl crush I had on you… I guess maybe that was the only way. It's like, once I got over it, it was like…" (she looked at the floor) "it was like I could never feel that way about you again. I mean, I still think you're a nice person and all, but-- y'know-- not like that anymore-- you understand?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah… I think so."
"And so," Ginny continued, "well, I guess… thanks."
Thanks for what? Harry wondered. Then he realized: Thanks for getting rid of her crush on me. Just like Cedric dying got rid of my crush on Cho. He supposed it had to feel like at least as much of a relief to her as losing the crush on Cho had been for him, maybe more so. And it would be a bit of a relief for him, too, not to have Ginny acting silly around him like that, but… well… somehow, in a bit of a stupid way, he felt like he was going to miss it. Quickly he dismissed the thought from his mind.
There was an awkward silence. Ginny was still taking care not to meet Harry's eyes.
Harry took a small sip of pumpkin juice. He looked at Ginny. She looked uncomfortable. He felt the same way. Neither of them knew what to say.
And then-- blessed relief-- there came the distant sound of a bedroom door creaking, and footsteps coming downstairs and into the passageway. Harry and Ginny both turned and looked toward the kitchen door to see who was coming.
* * *
It was Mrs. Weasley.
"Harry! You're awake, dear!" she exclaimed, though softly, so as not to wake the rest of the house. She appeared to be restraining herself from embarrassing Harry by hugging him again. "Did you just wake up? You must have slept more than once 'round the clock, it was only noon when you got here yesterday. Have you had anything to eat?"
"Ginny got me some water and some pumpkin juice. I'm… I'm not sure I can manage more than that."
"Yes, dear, but please keep eating as much as you can. You need your strength back. Oh, Harry, you must have had such a terrible time of it in Azkaban!"
"Yeah… yeah… I don't…. Yeah, it was awful. But, Mrs. Weasley…."
"Yes, dear?"
"What's been going on while I was in… while I was in there? I mean… what's been happening in… in the world?"
"Oh, Harry, don't worry so much about that. The main thing you need to know is that you're safe here. Dumbledore's just finished making the house unplottable."
"Unplottable?" Harry had seen the term used before, but had never really had anyone explain what it meant. It was the sort of thing Hermione would know. "What's that mean?"
"It means that the only way you can get in or out of here is by Portkey. Think of it like a magical bubble separating us from the outside world. Not only can it not be seen from overhead or show up on a photo from the air-- that's why they call it unplottable, it can't go onto maps by the usual ways-- but if somebody tries to walk into here, he'll suddenly find himself on the other side. And if somebody tries to Apparate here, he'll just automatically Apparate onto the other side. The only way in or out is by Portkey, and the only way you can make a Portkey is by being here. The Burrow is now one of the safest places in the wizarding world."
Harry sucked his breath in. So this also was part of Dumbledore's plan for keeping him safe. "Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked. "Did Dumbledore-- did he do this just to keep me safe?" He was feeling weak again. He took another sip of the pumpkin juice. It made him feel slightly better.
Mrs. Weasley and Ginny both laughed. "No, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley with a smile. "That was part of it, of course. But we're also going to become the headquarters for the Resistance in England."
"The Resistance?!"
"Dumbledore's had to make a break with the Ministry, Harry. He had to, you know, with Lucius Malfoy playing Fudge like a puppet on a string. Arthur's handing in his resignation from the Ministry tonight. If it were light outside you'd see a whole bunch of tents set up in the yard. All of Dumbledore's most trusted people are staying here. Arthur's been contacting everyone at the Ministry he thought we could trust, and most of the time he guessed right, but a couple of people went straight to Malfoy with stories about what Arthur was doing. So we're setting up a new Ministry. We expect we'll have about thirty people living on the grounds here."
Mrs. Weasley sounded a little bit frightened by the magnitude of what was going on, but more than that she seemed thrilled by the role she and her family were playing in the events of the time. And besides, Harry figured, cooking for thirty people every day had to be like heaven on earth for Mrs. Weasley. Harry grinned as he downed the rest of his pumpkin juice.
There was another set of creaking footsteps in the passageway. "Excellent, are we carrying on?" said Fred, as he and George made their appearance in the kitchen.
* * *
"So," said George with a typical sly grin, "the Azkaban escapee has decided to wake up and grace the world with his presence."
"So how's life in the free world?" added Fred.
"You can't really… not unless you've… well, I guess the only way I can explain it is, imagine having a hundred Dementors surrounding you morning, noon, and night. Then they disappear. It's like… it's kind of like breathing fresh air for the first time in my life."
"Or like your whole body's been filled with poison and all of a sudden it gets drained out?" Everybody looked at Ginny as she said this.
"Well… well, yeah," Harry replied. "How did you know?"
"That was what it was like in the Chamber of Secrets," said Ginny, a bit awkwardly. "Only that was a more slow and gradual thing, like Riddle had been poisoning me more and more all year, and all of a sudden you-- all of a sudden the diary was destroyed, and Riddle disappeared, and I was-- I was myself again."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Kind of like that."
There was another slightly awkward silence. Molly got up to get some bread. Ginny followed her. Harry looked at Fred and George.
"So," he commented, "your mum was telling me about the Resistance."
"Yeah," replied Fred with uncharacteristic seriousness. "The Ministry's finally gone too far. Your trial was basically what split all of wizarding England right down the middle. From what Dad says, it sounds like maybe a third of them are on our side. Not what we hoped for, but we'll give them a good hard fight before it's over. That's all we can do, right?"
"And on the bright side," George added, "Mum and Dad are letting us start the Wheezes. Seems they and Dumbledore think it'll be useful for the Resistance."
Mrs. Weasley turned and was about to say something, but decided against it. Instead she simply pointed her wand at a piece of bread, saying, "Tostaro," and handed it to Ginny for buttering.
"It sort of has been useful already. For me, at least," Harry pointed out.
"Least we could do," replied Fred with a wink. George checked over his shoulder to make sure his mother hadn't grasped the full implications of that statement. But Mrs. Weasley was picking up the jug of pumpkin juice to refill Harry's class, while Ginny handed Harry a slice of buttered toast and re-seated herself at the kitchen table. Harry held the toast in his hands. It felt heavy, so heavy. But he knew he needed it. And the butter made it look nice and soft and warm-- yes, he felt he could eat some of it after all. He took a small bite, and washed it down with a swallow of pumpkin juice. Outside the window, Harry could see the dim glow of sunrise on the horizon. Apparently the sky was clearing. It was now getting close to four-thirty in the morning, according to Fred's watch (which Harry was reading upside-down).
Suddenly there was another noise from outside. The door opened. From his chair at the kitchen table, Harry could see Mr. Weasley coming home. He was followed by Professor Dumbledore, with Fawkes flying in over his shoulder. And Dumbledore was followed by Ron and Hermione.
And Ron and Hermione were holding hands.
* * *
Harry felt his mouth drop open at the sight that was proceeding through the Weasleys' front door. Casting his eyes around at the rest of the group, he saw that Ginny's mouth had dropped open too. Fred and George looked mischievous even by their own standards, no doubt perceiving an opportunity for a great deal of fun. Oh, well, at least they'll be laying off of Ginny for a while. Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, looked stunned but very pleased.
Ron and Hermione looked at each other, realizing the group's reaction to their unusual form of proximity to one another. Some unspoken communication that Harry didn't understand appeared to pass between them, and they dropped hands. They both looked slightly embarrassed, but very happy-- Hermione in particular looked happier than Harry had ever seen her before.
Professor Dumbledore cast a brief smile at Ron and Hermione before addressing the group. "Please be seated, everyone," he instructed. "We have many things to discuss." Harry finished the rest of his toast while everyone else was finding chairs. Ginny buttered another slice and handed it to him. Meanwhile, Harry looked up nervously and Ron and Hermione. He wasn't sure what to say to them, or what they would want to say to him.
When everyone had gotten settled, with Ron and Hermione both getting hugs from Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, Dumbledore began to speak. "First of all, I would like to thank you, Harry."
Harry felt confused. What for? he wondered. Apparently Dumbledore must have read his face correctly, because he continued. "What I am thanking you for, Harry," he explained, "is your defense at the trial, in which you stood up to Mr. Malfoy and told everyone the truth about him. Because of your courageous stand, seven of the twelve Hogwarts governors have rejected Minister Fudge's order that they fire me, and have authorized me to make Hogwarts a safe haven for the Resistance."
"You are no doubt wondering what the Resistance is," he continued. "The Resistance is the collective name for those witches and wizards who have chosen-- some openly and some in secret-- to take their stand against Lord Voldemort, and against the Ministry of Magic insofar as the Ministry remains under the control of Voldemort's supporters. But perhaps you've heard of this already?"
Harry looked at Mrs. Weasley, who nodded at Dumbledore. "Yes, Professor, I told him a little bit about it."
"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "And therefore I would like to ask everyone present: Are you prepared to stand against Lord Voldemort?"
Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione all nodded their agreement. "Whatever it takes," said Fred.
"Very well, then," the Headmaster continued. "Your tasks for the remainder of the summer will be relatively minimal. But you must be ready to take whatever action may be necessary, at a moment's notice, should the need exist. In the meantime, however, Misters Fred and George Weasley, I would like for the two of you simply to continue what you would have been doing anyway."
Fred and George looked puzzled. "You mean…" Fred began, and George finished, "the joke shop?"
"Indeed. If we defeat Lord Voldemort but lose our ability to enjoy life in the process, then it might be said that Voldemort has triumphed after all-- by making us like himself."
Silence reigned while Dumbledore's words sank in. Harry agreed with Dumbledore, of course-- when he had given the twins the money to start the joke shop, he had told them, "We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long"-- but he had never thought of it in quite those terms. But Dumbledore was right, he had to be.
"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore continued, "You are not to leave the Burrow until school starts in September. The purchasing of your school supplies will be taken care of. You must understand that Lord Voldemort still desires your destruction. Therefore, your summer will be best spent by an intensive practicing of your Defense Against the Dark Arts skills. I believe Miss Granger and Mr. Ronald Weasley have assisted you with this sort of practice before?"
"Yes," replied Harry, remembering the time spent with Ron and Hermione practicing for the third task that spring. It seemed a distant memory.
"And Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom, when he joins us, will also be helping you with your practicing. Those of you helping Harry practice his skills are also to be practicing similarly yourselves. Is that understood?"
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny nodded.
"But, Professor," Harry asked, "how can I practice spells or… or anything? My wand…." He held out its broken pieces.
"That," replied the Headmaster, "can be remedied, I believe, with help from one of our friends." Even as he spoke, Fawkes fluttered onto Harry's knee. He craned his neck around, plucked a feather with his beak, and presented it to Harry, laying it on top of the broken pieces containing one of his own feathers.
"You see, Harry?" added Dumbledore. "As long as Fawkes exists, you will always have a wand to match Voldemort's. Mr. Ollivander has cast in his lot with us, and I will be seeing him this afternoon… if I may?" He held out his hand, and Harry entrusted him with Fawkes' feather.
"And concerning your Defense practices, I believe there is also someone else who will be assisting you from time to time, whom I expect to be joining-- ah, here he is now."
The door opened, and a familiar figure walked in. "Professor Lupin!" shouted Harry as he got up to greet his third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "And Sirius!" he added with even more excitement as his godfather followed. Lupin shook his hand warmly, followed by an embrace from Sirius. Outside the door Harry could see several tents set up. It was getting quite light outside now. In the yard a rooster crowed.
"Please be seated, please be seated," said Dumbledore with a smile, not seeming to wish to lose his train of thought. Harry sat back down, swallowing the last bit of his second piece of toast as Mrs. Weasley got up to cook a poached egg for him.
"Remus and Sirius will be staying here this summer," Dumbledore explained. "One or both of them will often be sent away on special assignments, of course," he added, "but Remus will be here often enough to serve as your primary instructor in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And I daresay you've been wanting to spend some time with Sirius here as well?"
Harry grinned sheepishly, looking down at the table. Through his peripheral vision, he could tell that Ginny was looking away. He could sort of sense that Ron and Hermione were acting a bit nervous too.
"I understand, of course," continued Dumbledore, "that certain persons present may have felt a bit-- hurt-- by certain things that were written some time ago?"
Ginny nodded, a bit glumly. Ron and Hermione also nodded with sheepish smiles, although they somehow seemed… well, they seemed happy about something.
"And has everything been apologized for and forgiven?"
Ginny and Harry both nodded firmly. Harry looked up a bit nervously at Ron and Hermione, but they were both smiling and nodding at Dumbledore. Harry wondered what that meant.
"We must remember that it is imperative that we who know the truth and are standing together against Voldemort, also stand together in the sense that we not hold past grudges against each other." Dumbledore's eyes flashed briefly in Sirius' direction, and Harry remembered the time at the end of the previous school year when the Headmaster had induced Sirius and his old rival Professor Snape to shake hands with each other, probably for the first time in their lives.
The door opened again, and Neville Longbottom and his grandmother entered. Harry wondered if there was ever a time when Neville's Gran wasn't wearing that horrible hat with the moldy stuffed vulture on top.
"Welcome, welcome," said Dumbledore. "Please be seated." Mrs. Weasley served Harry his poached egg, motioning for him to eat it. Harry didn't know how much more he'd be able to eat, but was starting to feel stronger, and thought he might be able to manage the egg. He started in on it. Outside, the sun had now risen above the horizon, and from the noises Harry could hear, it sounded like the birds in the trees, the chickens in the yard, and the gnomes in the garden had all risen to face the day.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued, "mutual trust is essential among us who seek to stand together against Voldemort. And I wish to emphasize also that the forgiveness of past offenses is critical. Otherwise we become no different from Lord Voldemort, who repeatedly reminds his followers, 'I do not forgive. I do not forget.' Even those who may have-- testified against us recently-- even they, if they return to us, must be forgiven."
"Percy, that git," mumbled Fred almost inaudibly.
"No, Mr. Weasley," insisted Dumbledore. "I repeat once again, even your brother must be forgiven if he returns to us. And we must maintain the hope that he will return. Is that understood?"
Fred looked a bit intimidated, but nodded. "Sorry, Headmaster. Yes. I understand. It's just… it's just hard."
Dumbledore smiled encouragingly. "Yes. I have experienced that feeling also. But we must not give in to that feeling. Even some of my closest friends disagree with me on this point, feeling that forgiveness undermines our sense of 'constant vigilance'. But I remain absolutely convinced of the importance of what I have told you."
As if on cue, the door opened yet again, and Mad-Eye Moody entered, followed by Mundungus Fletcher and the woman Harry had seen sitting next to Dumbledore during the trial. He wondered yet again where I had seen her before.
Dumbledore smiled and welcomed them. "I believe you are all acquainted with Alastor Moody," he commented with a hint of a wry grin, which Harry suspected to be due to the fact that Moody himself had not actually taught their classes at all last year. "I would also like you to meet Mundungus Fletcher and Arabella Figg."
"Mrs. Figg!" exclaimed Harry, recognizing her as the woman who had been a neighbor of the Dursleys on Privet Drive and had occasionally watched over him when the Dursleys were traveling.
"It's nice to see you, Harry," replied Mrs. Figg. "You're looking so grown up now." Harry's mind was bursting with questions. Why hadn't Mrs. Figg told him what he was? But he didn't get a chance to ask them as Dumbledore continued his explanation.
"They, along with Arthur and Molly Weasley, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black, are the surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix, my group of advisors from the previous war against Voldemort. Since Voldemort's return last month, I have re-convened the order. Voldemort calls his followers Death Eaters, as it is their goal to overcome death. But we take as our symbol the Phoenix, as we seek only to transcend death by living on through our loved ones who survive us, as our deceased colleagues Lily and James Potter live on through you, Harry."
Harry sat in his chair, stunned. His brain felt overloaded, not to mention tired. He didn't know what to say.
"I was telling these young people," Dumbledore explained to Moody, Fletcher, and Mrs. Figg, "about the importance I place on forgivness and the giving of second chances." Moody made a slightly louder-than-usual breathing noise but otherwise said nothing.
Ron spoke up next. "Professor Dumbledore," he began hesitatingly. "I was wondering about something. Percy… how could he… how could he do that? I mean, he's a Gryffindor, isn't he? How could the Sorting Hat put him in Gryffindor, if he was going to do something like that?"
"Are you under the impression," Dumbledore shot back, "that only Slytherins make foolish choices in life? That only Slytherins become hungry for power? That no Gryffindors have ever made that mistake?"
The whole table was silent. Harry had always just sort of assumed that only Slytherins were evil, ever since Hagrid had told him about the four Houses of Hogwarts before his first year. Apparently his friends had felt the same way.
"Bartimeus Crouch was a Gryffindor," Dumbledore told the group. "He was Head Boy during my first year as head of Gryffindor House. He was a great wizard in his time. But he became power-hungry, and made some very foolish choices. He died two months ago, suffering the results of his own choices. Yet he died bravely, fighting to counteract the results of his mistakes, and for that I honor him."
The silence continued. Apparently none of them-- with the possible exception of Hermione-- had realized what Mr. Crouch might have meant to Dumbledore.
"His son, Bartimeus Junior, was a Ravenclaw. He also was Head Boy at Hogwarts. And he became perhaps the Dark Lord's most faithful servant, and was responsible for the events that took place during the Third Task last year, resulting in the return of Lord Voldemort to his body. Young Barty Crouch received the Dementor's Kiss shortly thereafter, and remained unrepentant to the last.
"Cornelius Fudge was a Hufflepuff. And although he sincerely does not believe himself to be serving the Lord Voldemort, I believe you are all aware of how his foolish choices have been used to serve the Dark Lord's ends.
"And Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, was also a Gryffindor. It was he who betrayed the Potters and framed Sirius for the crime. It was he who murdered Cedric Diggory on Lord Voldemort's orders. It was he who cut Harry's arm and used his blood to resurrect his master."
Harry noticed Fred and George exchanging curious glances. Suddenly he remembered something. "Fred and George," he said with a nod toward Lupin and Sirius, "I'd like you to meet Mr. Moony and Mr. Padfoot."
Fred and George's eyes popped wide open. Then they got out of their chairs and bowed down on the floor before Sirius and Lupin, saying, "We are your servants, your humble servants. Teach us your secrets of magical mischief." Ron grinned at Harry, while most of the others (except Hermione) looked puzzled.
"By the way," Fred asked them, "who was Prongs?"
Sirius and Lupin looked at Harry. He swallowed. "Prongs was my father," he said somberly. Fred and George's eyes opened even wider, this time staring at Harry with pity and horror.
"Entertaining as this discussion no doubt is," Dumbledore interrupted, "we have one more order of business to discuss, as soon as our missing member arrives-- but here he is now."
The door opened one more time, and there entered almost the last person Harry would have expected to see. Professor Snape.
* * *
"Have you the potion, Severus?" asked Dumbledore.
"I have it," Snape replied, producing a vial from his pocket.
"Due to the special need to protect you, Harry," Dumbledore explained, "Professor Snape has been kind enough to produce a potion to enable you to protect yourself with the Fidelius Charm. Even though you are to be staying here at the Burrow, Harry, we believe that the more layers of protection you have, the safer you will be. Otherwise, we would be guilty of the same sort of overconfidence as the Ministry, which inadvertently allowed your friends to-- retrieve you yesterday. Constant vigilance-- isn't that right, Alastor?" Dumbledore looked at Moody, whose face split into a frightening grin as he grunted his agreement.
"What you must do, Harry, is to keep your mind fixed with full confidence in me as your Secret Keeper, to pronounce the word 'Fidelius' as I speak it, and to swallow the potion in your goblet even as I swallow that in mine. Is that understood?"
"Yes," Harry agreed. Snape was pouring the potion into two goblets, after which he handed one to Harry and one to Dumbledore.
"Are you ready, Harry?"
The thought burst unbidden into Harry's mind once again: But how do I know Snape hasn't sabotaged the potion? He forced himself to dismiss the idea: Dumbledore trusts Snape and I trust Dumbledore. That's good enough for now. He nodded to Dumbledore that he was ready.
"Fidelius," they both said and downed their potions.
There was a moment's silence. Then everybody in the room clapped (except for Professor Snape, who kept his face impassive). Snape was looking at Harry, as if expecting him to say something.
"Er…" stammered Harry. "Thank you, Professor."
Snape made no change of facial expression. For a moment Harry thought Snape was going to say something nasty. Then he nodded ever so briefly to Harry, and his face returned to its former aspect.
Harry noticed that Snape's left arm was twitching. "Headmaster," said Snape, "I must leave."
"Very well, Severus. You must do what you must do. And I thank you. You will find a Portkey outside the door. It will only operate in one direction."
Snape turned and left.
"And now," said Dumbledore to the assembled group, "I believe we all ought to get properly dressed and washed up for breakfast. Do we have a scheduled mealtime, Molly?" he asked.
"In about an hour, I think," replied Mrs. Weasley.
"Very well, then," said Dumbledore. "I shall see you all at seven o'clock. You are dismissed."
* * *
Everyone got up and began to mill around the room. Sirius came over to Harry. "We can talk after breakfast," he said. "I think Ron has a few things he needs to talk with you about first. You can go with him to his room. I'll see you in an hour."
Harry felt a twinge of regret that he wasn't going to get to talk with Sirius just yet, but then turned eagerly to Ron, who was standing behind him with an expectant expression, as if wanting to talk about something. They turned and walked through the passageway and the five flights of stairs to Ron's room. Upon entering, they sat down and grinned nervously at each other.
Then Harry had an idea.
"Ron," he asked, "could I haff a vord?"
Ron looked puzzled.
"I vant to know," continued Harry in his best imitation of a Bulgarian accent, "vot there is betveen you and Hermy-own-ninny."
A/N: Non-profit fan fiction based on works of J.K. Rowling. Thanks to Zsenya for beta-reading. To the H/G fans out there: fear not, I still believe in them as a couple, just not during the summer of Book 5. They need to go through something like this first, I think. For one thing, it will wake Harry up. And besides… didn't I make it obvious enough that Ginny still cares intensely for Harry, however much she may think otherwise?
…Stay tuned for a short epilogue, Chapter 8: "The Talk"… in which Ron and Harry haff a vord about vot there is betveen Ron and Hermy-own-ninny.