Harry stepped out of the Weasleys' fireplace, rubbing his elbow. Hermione, who had just stepped out herself, turned and looked at him. "Well, you're supposed to keep your elbows IN, aren't you?"
"Thanks. A lot. You couldn't have reminded me BEFORE we left?"
"I am at my wits' end with the two of you! Running off down Knockturn
Alley after I've explicitly told you not to ... spending your time thinking up
practical jokes instead of finishing your schoolwork ... oh, don't you roll
your eyes at me, Fred Weasley!"
"Hello, Molly dear," Mr. Weasley spoke with a note of apprehension as
he climbed the stairs from the basement.
"Arthur, would you please do something with these boys of yours ... I've
got to get dinner ready!" Red-faced, she stormed into the kitchen.
"Wow, she's really mad," Harry whispered to Ron.
"Yeah, she's been kind of on-edge ever since ... You-Know-Who came
back. I guess she was afraid something might happen. 'Specially down
Knockturn Alley."
"Come on, boys, I'm scouring out the Bundimuns in the basement. You
two can help me."
The twins groaned but followed their father, and Mrs. Weasley busied
herself in the kitchen, setting pots on the stove. Harry, Ron, Hermione,
and Ginny walked up the stairs to Ron's room.
"It's alright if Ginny stays, isn't it?" Hermione asked as they entered. "I mean, she knows everything now. Your parents told you what happened
at the end of last term, didn't they?"
Ginny nodded. "But nothing has happened since then."
Harry had been waiting all day to ask for the latest knews about
Voldemort. "So, no one has seen or heard anything about him? Or any
Death Eaters?"
"No," Ron said, shaking his head. "Dad's been alerting everyone he can,
and trying to gather information. But there's nothing." Ron lowered his
voice. "Percy doesn't believe it, you know. I've heard him and Dad arguing
loads of times. But I think as long as Fudge denies that You-Know-Who is
back, Percy will too. He looks up to Fudge almost as much as he did Mr.
Crouch."
They all sat in silence for a few minutes. Harry was puzzled. Voldemort was now more powerful than he had been in fourteen years. What could he be waiting for? "Does anyone know what he's planning?"
"That's the question everyone is asking ... well, everyone who knows
the truth. But no one has so much as a clue," Hermione spoke quietly. Her
ginger cat, Crookshanks had been sunning himself under the window. He
walked over and rubbed against her ankles.
"What do you say, Crookshanks?" she cooed. "Do you know anything?" But the cat just purred and closed his eyes.
"Well, he's not talking," Ron leaned back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see."
***
Percy, Charlie, and Bill returned to the Burrow just in time for dinner. Percy looked pale, and was clearly agitated.
"But I didn't KNOW I was supposed to buy her a gift!" he wailed,
flopping down on the oversized couch. Charlie and Bill exchanged glances
and chuckled.
"Mum, we must have walked through every Muggle and wizard shop in
London. He didn't find anything that he liked." Bill sat down opposite
Percy, clearly drained.
"Well, he's got a few days yet, hasn't he? Never mind that now, your
father's just set the table. It's time to eat!"
Their dinner in the garden was much like the one they'd had the summer
before. They sat in the same chairs, at the same tables, and looked around
at the same faces. And that comforted them; even though Voldemort's
return was in the back of everyone's mind, no one brought it up.
"Anyway, about that favor, Ron," George said as he jabbed Ron in
the ribs, nearly causing him to spill his pumpkin juice. "I'm thinking you
can polish my broomstick for me before school starts."
"Yeah, mine too," added Fred.
"What's this about? Why do you owe them a favor, Ron?" Hermione
asked.
"They bought me new dress robes, and haven't let me forget it yet,"
said Ron miserably. "I'd almost rather wear that lacy--thing-from last
year than deal with these two and their 'favors'."
Fred looked across the table at Harry with raised eyebrows, and put his
finger to his lips to signal him to keep quiet. They both knew that the
money for the robes had come from Harry, and it wasn't quite fair for the
twins to make Ron repay them. But Harry also knew that Ron was proud,
and he'd much rather perform any number of chores for Fred and George
than accept anything for free, even from family.
Snatches of conversation drifted from the other end of the table.
"Well, I reckon Charlie enjoyed the engagement party," Bill said,
laughing. Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny laughed too.
"I thought she was nice, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, causing the Weasley
children--except Percy and Charlie--to explode into laughter yet again. Charlie turned bright red.
Percy looked around the table condescendingly. "Charlie could do a lot
worse than Persephone Green, that's for certain," he chided the giggling
crowd.
"Charlie has a crush on her," Ginny whispered.
"Green?" Hermione repeated, puzzled. "Penelope's sister's last name
is Green? But I thought she was a Clearwater."
"Oh, she is, dear," Mrs. Weasley answered, "but she got married a year
or so out of school. Green was his name ... Demetrius Green. But, well, he
died. Oh, I remember that so well, don't you, dear? It was so sad," she
said to Mr. Weasley.
He nodded. "How could I forget? It was ... horrible. No other word for
it." By now everyone had stopped laughing and given their full attention to
Mr. Weasley.
"I think I remember that," Bill responded. "Wasn't he an Envoy, or
something?"
Harry swallowed a particularly large bite of baked potato. "A what?"
he asked.
"An Envoy," answered Hermione. "You know. They're a bit like Muggle
charity workers, or--what do they call them?--missionaries."
"Hermione's right," Mr. Weasley added. "There are wizards who believe
that they've been given a great deal of responsibility along with their
magical power. They spend their lives using magic to help Muggles-
covertly, under the Ministry's supervision, of course. Most Muggles don't
even know when they've been helped by an Envoy. They work in hospitals,
fire stations, social services ... I even considered becoming one, once ..."
"But what about Green?" Ron interrupted, impatient to hear the full
story. "That Demetrius Green, what happened to him?"
Mr. Weasley became quiet, and for the first time, Harry saw in his eyes
the same sad weariness that he'd seen so often in Sirius.
"It was in the days of You-Know-Who's rise to power. The Ministry
was doing its best to track the Death Eaters ... but it wasn't good enough. It couldn't keep up with them all. I got a call one evening about an attack
at a Muggle hospital. An Envoy dead, along with the three Muggles he'd
been treating as patients. The place was swarming with Aurors by the
time I got there, but the two Death Eaters had gotten away already. I was
called in because they had charmed several Muggle medical implements to
attack the Ministry officials who had come to help--very dangerous." He
shook his head sadly. "The most shocking thing was, it was a targeted
attack. Those Death Eaters could have killed a hundred Muggles at that
hospital, but they went after Green especially."
"What on earth for?" Hermione asked.
Mr. Weasley looked across the table at her. "Because Death Eaters
hated Envoys. They were exact opposites, you understand: the Death
Eaters lived to destroy Muggles; the Envoys lived to help them. You-Know
Who's followers thought that Envoys were the foulest creatures alive
because they were wizards who gave their lives in service to Muggles. Considered them a disgrace. Would have gotten rid of them all, if they
could."
"So sad," Mrs. Weasley murmured. "I remember seeing Persephone at
the funeral--we went to pay our respects, you know. Lots of people
wouldn't, they were afraid to be seen there by Dark wizards. But someone
had to go, besides the Greens. And that poor girl! How old was she then,
Arthur? Twenty-one?"
"Twenty, I think," he replied.
"Twenty years old and a widow," Charlie whispered incredulously.
Everyone sat around the table in silence. Their conversation had taken
an unexpected and unpleasant turn, but now that their minds were on
Voldemort and the Death Eaters, they could think of little else. Each of
them--except Percy, who continued eating in silence--was wondering the
same thing: could they expect to see more of the violence that had
touched the lives of the Greens, and so many others, fourteen years ago?
