AN: I know it's been forever and a day since I updated this, but fear not-- this is a long one, folks. I've started work on chapter four, so maybe that'll be out before book five...? Maybe? Thank you to everyone who has left a review-- you've all been absolutely wonderful, and really know how to make a girl blush. Thanks again, Dr. Cornelius, for your great advice and willingness to spend entirely too long pointing out punctuation errors.
Disclaimer: Again, I'm not JKR. I've not received any rewards for writing this, aside from the reviews people leave. Therefore, don't sue me, unless you want a bunch of electronic reviews. Another note-- I have never studied Latin. Or Old English. Please forgive me any errors in that capacity, as I had to rely (foolishly, perhaps) on internet tranlations.
***
The Highest Good
Chapter Three: Primus Inter Pares
"Lupin, you old dog!" Ginny slid through the doorframe just in time to avoid being crushed by the rather rotund, red-faced man enthusiastically grasping Professor Lupin's hand.
"Bardrick! It's been far too long." Lupin's face lit up, and the grin that broke out over his normally sedate features reminded Ginny eerily of the all-too-often seen smirks on the faces of the twins. The smile faded slightly as Lupin added, "We really must try to find a better time for these reunions." The other wizard nodded his agreement, and moved out of the way of the door.
"Sorry, there," he said addressing Ron, Fred, and George, who had remained outside behind Professor Lupin. "Didn't see you. Well, come on in. Let's get this underway, then, shall we?" he said, looking around the kitchen for a consensus. Ginny noticed for the first time that there were other people in the room-- odd, because the room was full to bursting. But then, the man's presence was so large and jovial that it was hardly surprising that she had missed the scene behind him.
Three strangers, two men and a woman, sat huddled together at the kitchen table, speaking in low, deadly serious tones. One man, a thin, flighty-looking fellow, gesticulated wildly with long-fingered hands as he spoke. The other man leaned back in his chair, fretful lines creasing his features, while the woman's face had a look of stony, self-imposed calm. By the hearth, Mr. Weasley was speaking earnestly to Dumbledore, who chuckled slightly at whatever had been said. An icepack-wielding Mrs. Weasley had cornered Charlie, while Percy sat primly in a straight-backed chair, looking slightly put-off by the chaotic scene. Across the kitchen, leaning up against the cabinets was another person unfamiliar to Ginny; the lone man's face was completely unreadable, yet something of his countenance made her shudder slightly.
Seeing that no one seemed to have acknowledged his suggestion, the red-faced wizard cleared his throat and tried again. "H'm. I say, hadn't we best get this thing going? Or do you just propose we sit around and jabber all night?"
"Right as usual, Mr. Doffle," said Dumbledore, as the room quieted. "Perhaps we should move into the living room, where we can jabber, as you put it, to our hearts' content. I'm afraid," he added, "tonight may be a long one," smiling apologetically to the room.
"Then we'd best get started," said the man leaning against the cabinets, as he stretched and strode out the door.
"Better follow Mr. Grell's example, I am sure," Dumbledore said, and the room quickly emptied. Ron and the twins followed the adults and were just about to enter the living room when Ginny caught Ron by the arm.
"Ron," she hissed, "what do think you're doing?"
"Going to hear about whatever's going on, obviously." Ron shook off her hand, and started to go on in.
Ginny caught him by his shirt collar and held on tightly. "Idiot," she whispered, "They haven't invited us in-- Dumbledore didn't want us after dinner; why should he want us now? Besides, he as good as told me to keep my nose out of their business."
"Yeah. He told you," Ron hissed angrily, turning an unbecoming shade of mauve due to Ginny's tight grip on his shirt. "He didn't say a word about me and Fred and George, though. Now, gerroff!" And with that Ron put his towering height to good use and weaseled his way out of her grasp. He marched into the living room, followed by George and Fred. Fred grinned lopsidedly at Ginny as he went through the door.
"Promise to tell you what it's all about, later." He paused, and looked thoughtful. "Unless, of course, we're bound to secrecy. Don't want to have to kill you for letting slip state secrets, you know."
Ginny fought to control the urge to put her fist through the wall as the door slipped shut. She thought briefly about borrowing some of the twins' "supplies"-- they had listening devices that would have made many a Muggle sleuth salivate-- but thought better of it. If Dumbledore didn't want her to hear, then fine. She wasn't going to beg. She'd go upstairs and check on Harry. Sleeping draught or not, he shouldn't have been left alone, she thought, still seething.
She got as far as the staircase before the door to the living room opened. Professor Dumbledore emerged, smiling benevolently at the redheaded figure.
"I apologize, Miss Weasley," he began solemnly, "if I earlier gave you the impression that your presence was not desired. You do, however, show a remarkable sense of propriety in waiting for an invitation before joining us." His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. "Your brothers, it seems, are not burdened with such a marked refinement." Dumbledore offered his arm. "Would you do me the honor?"
Ginny felt her anger slip away under the elderly wizard's kind gaze. She smiled abashedly. "With pleasure," she said, taking the Headmaster's proffered arm.
***
Ginny felt slightly foolish entering the living room; everyone looked up as she and the Headmaster took their seats, and the low level of conversation settled into a silence. Fred smirked at her, and she winced, knowing that there would be no end of teasing resulting from the events of the last few minutes. Trying to get as far away as possible from her brothers, Ginny moved to the opposite side of the room and sat down by the fireplace, her back to the blaze.
"Hey, Firebrand, mind scooting over a bit?" came a voice behind her. "You're blocking my view." Ginny turned to see her brother Bill-- or at least his head. The head jerked a bit to the right, and Ginny scooted obligingly. Bill (or Bill's head, to be more precise) looked different, she decided, but she wasn't sure what the change was. She pondered for a moment, then grinned.
"New earring?" she whispered, gesturing to the shining bronze object dangling from Bill's ear.
"Phoenix talon," Bill replied, grinning. "Thought it was appropriate. Like it?" Ginny nodded, wondered in what possible way the severed talon of a phoenix could be considered appropriate, and turned her attention to the center of the room.
Dumbledore had settled himself into Mrs. Weasley's rocking chair, and rocked emphatically a few times before clearing his throat and speaking.
"I have to thank you all for being here tonight," he began, surveying the room. "But before I can explain the need for tonight's gathering, I'm afraid there are a few among us who would benefit from some introductions." Dumbledore glanced over at Ginny and smiled. "I am afraid, my dear, that you and some of your brothers will not have met our members just yet." Ginny flushed and shook her head, embarrassed that her ignorance was holding up what appeared to be something of great importance.
"Not to worry," Dumbledore continued, "That problem can be solved relatively easily, I am sure. Miss Ginny Weasley and Mssrs. Ron, Fred, and George Weasley, I would like to introduce you to our esteemed associates." He motioned first to the unknown woman who sat stiffly on the sofa. "Ms. Tuesday Birchfald," he announced. The woman-- a neat, nutbrown and rather curvaceous figure of about thirty years of age-- smiled restrainedly at the boys, and turned to nod also to Ginny. Ginny met her eyes (brown, like the rest of her) and thought for just a moment that her smile did not seem so forced.
Dumbledore continued in his introductions. "Mr. Mundungus Fletcher." Ginny had heard this man's name before, but she couldn't quite remember where. She decided the older man, about her father's age, looked like a nice sort of fellow, if a bit worry-wartish.
"The illustrious Mr. Theophilus Herron," Dumbledore intoned. The tall man perched on the ottoman had been aptly named, if anyone ever had: he was thin and nervous-looking, and his water-blue eyes seemed to take in everything around him in short, measured glances. Heron indeed, Ginny mused, he looks as though he'll take flight in a moment-- a loud noise might frighten him off.
"Mr. Bardrick Doffle," Dumbledore nodded in the direction of the red-faced wizard sitting comfortably in the threadbare wingback in the corner.
"Pleasure's all mine, I'm sure," Mr. Doffle said, affably.
Dumbledore's glance lighted on the final unknown face. "And Mr. Nicodemus Grell, of course." The silent man inclined his head slightly in recognition. Ginny studied his face curiously, but was able to make nothing of it. His features were regular, he wore no evident scowl, but something about Mr. Grell made her uneasy. Ginny looked quickly away.
Dumbledore leaned back into the chair, the fingers of one hand drumming softly on one armrest. "Now," he said, "I believe that takes care of the introductions; the rest of you are well acquainted, I assume, since most of you are related." He sighed softly. "The rest of what I must say, I fear, will not be half so clear, nor so simple." He paused, and Dumbledore-- for the first time in Ginny's recollection-- seemed uncertain what to say.
***
"I know I need not convince any of you present of the very real danger we are prey to in our current times," Dumbledore began quietly. "It is evident that, whatever the Ministry decides to say on the matter, Voldemort has returned. He has been returned to his body, making him capable once more of independent movement and strength. We know from Mr. Potter's report that Cedric Diggory was killed on arrival." Dumbledore looked grim, and continued, his voice growing stronger. "Mr. Potter has told us that Voldemort was resurrected by a spell that used his blood as one of the key ingredients. I believe it would behoove us to look further into the identity and effects of this spell, especially considering today's events."
Ginny shuddered; how awful it must be for Harry, knowing his lifeblood also allowed Voldemort to return to his reign of terror. Ginny remembered the cold, high cackle of Tom Riddle's laugh, a sound that often plagued her dreams. Harry's must be ten times worse.
"Most of you know this already," Dumbledore continued. "However, we meet tonight about more recent events. Two weeks ago I received an owl from Mr. Potter, informing me of something unusual he had noticed. The letter reads as follows--" Dumbledore drew a piece of parchment out of his robes, and adjusted his spectacles.
Dear Professor Dumbledore, he read, I hope all is going well in the wizarding world. I've not been able to keep up with the news as much as I'd like, although Ron and Hermione are doing their best to send me news clippings. I thought it best to tell you about something I saw today-- I don't think it's terribly important, but better safe than sorry, right? I was weeding the garden this afternoon, and stopped for a quick break about one, maybe half-past. As I stood up, I saw two men in black robes looking at me from across the street, one or two houses down. At least, I'm pretty sure they were looking at me; they might have just been looking at the garden, or the house-- my eyes aren't very good. All the same, my scar started to hurt all of a sudden and I got a little worried. I looked up a second later and they were gone. I know they didn't run off-- the street's straight and there aren't a lot of places to hide, and they didn't take a car, else I would have heard it leaving. So I figure they must've been wizards and either Disapparated or Portkeyed away, although they didn't seem to be holding anything-- but I don't know of any wizards that live in the area. It's probably nothing-- it was awfully hot outside, and I may have imagined the whole thing, like a mirage. No dreams lately. Just thought you ought to know, Harry Potter. Dumbledore returned the message to the folds of his robes and cleared his throat.
"This, of course, caused me great concern. Harry has been protected to the best of our abilities since the death of his parents, as he would have been a target for the angry followers of Lord Voldemort even as a child. Arabella Figg," Dumbledore lingered slightly on her name, "a dedicated member of the Order during Voldemort's first reign of terror, volunteered to keep an eye on the boy as he grew up, and report any possible threats in the area." Dumbledore looked over at Ron. "You, see, Mr. Weasley, Harry did not live solely around Muggles, as he believed. And although it seems cruel, his relatives being as they are, he was better protected in a neighborhood of Muggles with Mrs. Figg to watch over him than he could ever have been in the wizarding world."
Ron looked puzzled. "Then why is he here, if it's so bloody safe for him there?" he demanded.
"Ron! Watch your language!" Mrs. Weasley rebuked her youngest son.
Dumbledore seemed to be smothering a smile to no great avail. "I see," he said levelly, "that Miss Weasley is not the only overly-curious member of the family." Ginny had to fight back the urge to stick her tongue out at Ron and hiss "See? It's not just me, idiot," across the room. But that would probably be breaching all sorts of top-secret-meeting etiquette, so she made the very mature decision to keep her tongue where it was.
"To answer your question, Ron," Dumbledore continued, suddenly serious, "Harry is here because it is no longer safe for him on Privet Drive. When it was determined that he would have to stay with his aunt and uncle, Professor McGonagall and I, along with some of our best Aurors, worked to secure the area with wards and anti-Apparition spells, as well as a few other precautions. Mrs. Figg, living as a Muggle, monitored the area faithfully for any attempts to breach the protected area, which extends three blocks in all directions. Had there been any use of magic-- or simply the presence of another person capable of magic-- within that radius, Mrs. Figg would have known, and would have notified me immediately." He looked at the younger Weasley brothers, seated on the floor. "Incidentally, boys," he said, "I must say that you gave poor Mrs. Figg quite a fright, showing up in the middle of the night in that car a few years back." Mrs. Weasley glared at her wayward sons, and both Ron and the twins flinched, as though expecting yet another tongue-lashing.
"This is, of course," the headmaster continued, "the reason why Harry's letter was so very disturbing. If the men were indeed wizards, which it appears they must have been, they should never have been able to Apparate onto the property-- and allowing that they were somehow able, they should have at least triggered the wards and alarms. But Arabella, after I contacted her, found absolutely no trace of any magical persons having been there, excepting Harry and herself." Dumbledore removed his spectacles, and polished the lenses slowly with the hem of his robe. "You must understand," he said in a low voice, "the nature of the wards we placed around number four, Privet Drive in order to appreciate the difficult that lies in penetrating them. They are not at all unlike the ones cast around Hogwarts, or-- for a slightly more exotic example-- the ones placed on the tombs of Egyptian pharaohs." Ginny glanced at Bill's head in the fire. He was listening intently to Professor Dumbledore, biting slightly on his lower lip as he had always done when working out a problem. "To break these wards, to breach the security measures, one must be well versed in the Dark Arts. It is possible, although difficult, to break a ward, but the ward will show damage when tested for weaknesses-- am I right, Bill?" Dumbledore looked over to the hearth.
Bill's head nodded. "You can break a ward of that magnitude," he said thoughtfully, "but it invariably shows signs of attack. You can even tell from the damage what sort of spell was used to break it-- leaves a trace of the magic in the ward's web. Impossible to get past one without leaving a bit of a fingerprint. The archaeomagias in Egypt rely pretty heavily on the remnants of damaged wards to reconstruct ancient spells. A friend of mine was really into that stuff, showed me some techniques. Comes in handy with the curse-breaking, sometimes." He looked up at Dumbledore. "You're certain there was no damage to it?"
"I don't think so, my boy," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, "but that, of course, is what I'd like you to find out, if you would." Bill nodded again, his phoenix-talon earring swinging with the motion.
Ginny was puzzled. Something Dumbledore said was wrong.... If getting to Harry was supposed to be so difficult then why--? She raised her hand tentatively.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrow slightly. "Miss Weasley?"
"Sorry," she said quickly, her face turning rosy as the room turned to face her, "this is probably a really stupid question-- I know there's no such thing as a stupid question, but this one is, I'm sure-- the thing is, how did Ron and George and Fred manage to get past the wards, if they're so hard to break? Shouldn't they have tossed them back, or repelled them somehow? I mean," she said, nervously, "they got right through, and I thought that's what wards do-- repel people I mean. Not let them in, of course. So..." Ginny's voice trailed off, "were they not working right, or something like that....?" Ginny looked down quickly. Amazing what a room full of people can do for one's eloquence, isn't it? she thought wryly. Three years at Hogwarts and she still botched up speaking in front of people she didn't know.
"A very clever observation, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said warmly. "Good of you to recognize the loophole-- I'm sure you'll do excellently on the spell analysis portion of your O.W.Ls., when it comes time for you to take them. Your brothers," he said," were able to cross the barriers because of a provision allowing all members of the Order to pass through the wards without hindrance, although they would set off the alarms." Seeing her puzzled face, Dumbledore continued. "Everyone in this room, Miss Weasley, is a member of the Order of the Phoenix-- provided they wish to be. During the last reign of Voldemort, the Order was our only chance at defense. Your mother and father, Harry's parents, Professor Lupin, Mr. Herron, Ms. Birchfald, Mr. Doffle, Mr. Fletcher, Mrs. Figg, and several others were key in the resistance against the Death Eaters." Ginny looked to her parents, sitting side by side on the couch. Her father found her mother's hand and held it tightly, and Mrs. Weasley smiled at her husband and lifted her head proudly.
"Knowing that the time might come when we needed to act to protect Harry, we thought it best to leave the wards open to members of the Order-- and future members, as well." Here Dumbledore looked to where Ron and the twins sat, listening intently. "As it seemed that there would be a large quantity of Weasleys to contend with," he said, smiling slightly, "it was deemed to be a an acceptable risk to allow all of Arthur and Molly's children the same sort of provisions, as they would-- we hoped, and still do-- choose to become members themselves, one day." Ron sat up straighter and nodded gravely. The twins did likewise, and Ginny was amazed to see that neither of their faces concealed a smirk-- they were completely serious, for the first time in her recollection.
Ginny felt a bit giddy herself. She had wanted so badly to be a part of whatever had been going on, and here it was-- being offered to her by Dumbledore himself. Just this morning (how long ago that seemed!) she had had to beg for information, had been afraid to speak the word "Voldemort." And now, here it was: the truth, free and clear. The chance to be regarded as an equal by not only her brothers, but by adults. Suddenly Ginny was terrified. She was fourteen-- fourteen-- and she had just been asked to join the fight against the most horrible wizard in history. Well, that's not exactly true, her inner voice mused, Dumbledore just said he hoped you would join the Order. He didn't say you had to. He might have meant that you could join up later, if you wanted to-- he said "one day," remember? Ginny gave her inner voice a shake. I don't have to join now, true, she thought, but how could I live with myself if I didn't? I don't think I could ever look at Mum again without flinching, and Dad, and then there's Harry.... Ginny looked up, realizing the room was silent. Dumbledore was staring intently at her, his blue eyes piercing hers as she met his gaze.
And, after what was probably the longest single second she had ever felt, Ginny nodded slightly. Dumbledore smiled, and his eyes showed something that looked suspiciously like relief. "Good," the old wizard said brusquely, pushing his spectacles up his crooked nose, "We'll make it official later."
"Glad you'll be with us, Firebrand," she heard Bill say in a soft voice. "We need everyone we can get." She turned and gave her brother a watery smile before Dumbledore started speaking again.
***
"Turning back to the matter at hand," Dumbledore began in the clipped tones of a military commander, "Harry's letter was highly disturbing. High Dark magic must have been used in order to breach the wards, and with Voldemort's power rising, I felt it was best to increase the security around Privet Drive. A cell of the Order, consisting of Tuesday Birchfald, Mundungus Fletcher, Remus Lupin, and Charles Weasley was sent to assist Mrs. Figg in her surveillance. They arrived the day after I received Harry's letter. Mr. Potter remained uninformed of their presence, as it was deemed unwise to worry him unnecessarily. No trace of any magical trespass was found, although the search could not be very thorough, for fear of attracting undue attention." Dumbledore paused, and sighed almost imperceptibly. "This afternoon however, there was an attack on Privet Drive, presumably by agents working for Voldemort." Ginny watched her father squeeze her mother's hand reassuringly and she, for all the heat of the fire behind her, shivered.
Dumbledore looked at Charlie, and, picking up his cue, her brother cleared his throat to speak.
"H'm. Well, we'd been taking shifts to watch the house and street, and I went on house watch at one this afternoon. We'd been using a combination of concealment charms that Tuesday's been working on-- doesn't make you invisible, just unnoticeable. Sort of a variation on Confundus charms, you know. Everything appeared normal. Arabella keeps-- kept-- records on the Muggles in the neighborhood... when they leave for work, what times they come home, number of people that reside in each house, things like that, so we knew what to look for, as far as unusual behavior went. Tuesday and Fletcher had patrol duty at that time, and neither could detect anything out of place--"
"Not true." Charlie's narrative was interrupted by Ms. Birchfald. She looked uncomfortable being the center of attention, but continued undaunted. She looked directly at Charlie. "Remember asking me if all was clear past Number Seven?"
Charlie looked confused for a moment-- and then his eyes widened slightly. "You didn't answer," he replied. "I had to ask you again."
Tuesday sighed. "Right. It wasn't that I hadn't been paying attention-- I had. I didn't answer because I couldn't hear you. Something must've interfered with the Defero charm-- I definitely wasn't out of range." She paused slightly, and her voice caught on her next words. "I must've passed right by them. Stupid of me not to notice... at the time I didn't think a few missed words were cause to sound the alarm." Ms. Birchfald gave a twisted sort of grin. "But then, I do seem to be skilled at getting others into trouble." The woman's voice was hard, self-mocking. There was something there, Ginny decided, that was still quite raw and painful, whatever it was.
"Well," Charlie started again, trying to breach the awkward silence, "since Tuesday and Fletcher both gave me an all-clear, I went round to the back of the house to check perimeters and all that. Nothing seemed to be out of the usual, and I went back towards the fence to make certain there was no one who shouldn't be there. After that," he said grimly, "I'm not rightly sure what did happen. The next thing I knew I was pushed backwards, right off my feet into the rosebushes, a good four meters away. There were two men in black robes in front of me-- dunno where they came from, they were just there all of a sudden. I pulled my wand and called for help, and then they came after me. Odd, though-- they didn't seem to want to use their wands, for some reason. They were pretty good with their fists, anyway," Charlie said bemusedly, gently touching the now-purple flesh below his eye. "I couldn't get in a decent hit. At any rate, a second after I shouted Remus and Theo came out of the house, and they tried to get the men in black off of me. Once they had us in front of them, though, they started sending us backwards. Still didn't use their wands--I'm not sure what they were using, but it felt like every time I opened my mouth to cast something the words were forced back down-- like choking on your own magic." He looked to the two other men for their agreement.
Mr. Herron nodded. "Like shaking a bottle of butterbeer with the cork still in. A build-up of pressure with no way to release it. Quite an unpleasant sensation," he mused.
"Exactly," said Charlie, relieved to know he hadn't been alone in the impression. "Anyway, they kept pushing us back around the side of the house. Once we were out of reach of the door, the one on the left turned heel and went into the house...." Charlie's voice trailed off, and he seemed at a loss as to what to say next.
"It's my fault," Professor Lupin said suddenly. "I should have stayed inside." Ginny winced at the heavy guilt in his voice.
"It was no one's fault, Remus," Dumbledore said gently, his low tones saddened. "You could not have known. You did your duty at the time, as Arabella did hers. There was no more important task than that." Lupin nodded, but Ginny knew that the guilt yet remained. She was well-acquainted with guilt herself. Particularly the type that was no one's fault.
Charlie's voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. "She fought him-- we could hear her scream, but... there was the light, and-- Dear God, I could actually hear the bastard say the words." His voice was queer and tight, and Ginny could hear the useless anger behind the words. The room was silent, broken only by the occasional snaps from the fire behind her. Ginny looked at her older brother, his lips drawn tightly together-- Charlie looked up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly. Another first, some part of Ginny's mind commented. I don't think I've ever seen Charlie cry.
Mr. Weasley's voice broke through the stillness. "Arabella was a good friend and a great witch," he said thickly, his head bowed. "At least it was quick." There were murmurs of agreement from the others, all of whom were thinking, no doubt, of other possible fates poor Mrs. Figg could have been forced to endure.
The grim moment passed, and Charlie shifted in his seat-- the delicate spindle-legged chair (an heirloom from Ginny's great-great-aunt Matilda) was much too small for the active young man. "H'm," Charlie cleared his throat, trying, Ginny thought, to steer away from uncomfortable emotions. "It seems to me that the other wizard, the one who stayed with us, was waiting for the-- the light. After he saw the flash through the windows, the bottled-up feeling stopped, and we could actually cast things-- but nothing seemed to hit him. The second fellow came back outside, and the two of them finally pulled their wands on us. I know it seems ridiculous," Charlie sounded apologetic at this point, "us being three and there only being two of them, but we couldn't seem to make headway at all-- they just kept pushing us backwards, round to the front of the house. I'm not quite sure when Fletcher and Tuesday got there; I don't suppose I was paying much attention to that at the time."
"Quite understandable, I'm sure," interjected Dumbledore.
"The thing that really puzzles me, Headmaster," Charlie said earnestly, "is why on earth they didn't kill us like-- like they did Arabella. They could have, and very easily, since nothing we did seemed to have any effect at all. But nothing they threw our way was anywhere near fatal. Just Impedimenta and the like. I don't understand it."
"It was like they were trying to attract attention," said Fletcher. "Lots of light and noise, right out there in front of the Muggles and everybody on the street. Bold, if you ask me."
"I think," Dumbledore answered gravely, "that we may safely assume that they were trying to attract the attention of Mr. Potter."
"Well," said Mr. Fletcher, "if that's what they were aiming t' do, then they certainly did it. Or at least they managed to get that aunt of his's attention. The woman screams like a banshee... nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard her, running back towards the house. Miz Tuesday and I got there at nearly the same time, just as all them came round to the front. I ran in through the gate t' help the others, when out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry tearing out of Number Four. Didn't have his wand or anything, just was running hell bent for leather." Fletcher smiled slightly. "The Hat didn't make any mistake putting the boy in Gryffindor, to be sure. James'd be right proud of him." Fletcher shook his head. "'Course, it was a reckless thing... he could have been killed. Dunno what he thought he was going t' do-- but as soon as he was across the street and inside the gate, Harry started grabbing at his head. Collapsed right there, clawing that scar of his. Tuesday ran over to pull him aside, but they knocked her back." He paused slightly. "They knocked all of us back, somehow, and we couldn't move. Seems like nothing moved, not even the Muggles on the street. I couldn't even hear that blasted woman screaming anymore. It was like everything was frozen... a version of Petrificus Totalus that included sound, in all directions. I've never seen anything like it, m'self." Dumbledore's eyebrow raised at this new information. "Well, everything was frozen except Harry. Except Harry. I think he knew none of us could help him, and he found Tuesday's wand in the grass near him. He looked like something awful was going on in his head, with his eyes all screwed up. I'm surprised he managed to stand, let alone try a spell. He tried Expecto Patronum, though I can't for the life of me understand why-- there weren't any Dementors around. It didn't work, of course. Just a good-sized wisp of silver... impressive, really, for using another wizard's wand. But it didn't do anything, and then there was that horrible green light, and silence. It was almost loud, it was so quiet-- I don't know how else to describe it. I thought for a moment that they'd used Ava... the Killing Curse on him. But that-- feeling was missing. You know the one, Arthur." Mr. Weasley looked ill and nodded.
Fletcher swallowed audibly. "Harry was lying on the ground, and there was blood all round him. So much of it. Then I saw Remus and Tuesday run towards him and I realized that I could move again. Charlie and Theo and I went after those two fellows with everything we had. They seemed surprised that we were back to ourselves... weren't expecting that. Something'd gone wrong, I expect, because suddenly our spells were working and we were able to drive them backwards a ways. Remus and Miz Tuesday had managed to pull Harry out of the way, but he still wasn't moving. I really thought he'd gone. We'd managed to push those bastards-- pardon, ladies-- back a little, but they did everything they could to hold their ground... wouldn't move out of Harry's blood, and nothing we did seemed to matter. It was like once they'd gotten their feet in it they were twice as strong. Odd as anything, I say."
"In his blood, you say?" Dumbledore asked sharply.
"Yessir." Fletcher nodded. "They were standing right in it, and wouldn't move. Gruesome, really."
Ginny felt nauseated. The image of the Death Eaters-- assuming that they were Death Eaters, of course-- standing in Harry's blood played in her mind, and she knew that she would be seeing the picture later in her nightmares.
"Once they were in the blood they started casting the Unforgivables right and left-- not very accurately, really. They seemed enraged, like. I heard something over my shoulder, and turned my head for just a second, maybe less-- saw Harry trying to stand, with Tuesday and Remus pulling him back. When I turned my head back, one of 'em had his wand in my face, and I figured that was it. I'm not too clear on what happened then... my back was to it. Remus had a better look, I think." Fletcher looked over his should to the former professor, who sighed and took up the thread where he had left off.
"Tuesday and I had managed to get Harry out of the way of the fight, and were trying to stop the bleeding while the others dealt with the two men. It took a moment to find where exactly the blood was coming from, but we eventually found it and began to work Staunching spells on his arm. They helped a little, but he needed immediate medical attention, and I was honestly afraid he might die. So when he not only regained consciousness but also stood, I was amazed. We tried to pull him back, tried to get him to lie back down, but he pushed us away." Professor Lupin looked over at Dumbledore. "Now that I've had time to reflect on it, I don't think he was aware himself of what he was doing. He didn't seem to be in shock-- just... distant, somehow. Like something else was acting through him. Based on what happened a moment later, I have no doubt that this was the case. Just as one of the men prepared to curse Fletcher, Harry ran out into the middle of the yard, yelling something. I couldn't make out all the words, but I caught part that sounded like 'ræcan se Leoht.'"
Lupin glanced quickly over to the headmaster. "If he did say what I believe he said, then something extraordinary is going on. I highly doubt that Harry is well-versed in the Old Faith, as that phrase would suggest he is. At any rate, the spell did intervene, although I'm not certain exactly what it accomplished. There was a pulse of brilliant golden-white light, a high, ringing noise, and the next thing I knew I was nearly five meters away from where I started, face down on the ground. I immediately got up to find Harry, and he was exactly where he had been a moment before, still standing with his arm outstretched. He seemed disoriented, and didn't speak. Where the men had been standing before there was nothing, nothing at all. Everyone else was accounted for and seemed unharmed. Harry's arm had begun to bleed again, probably because of the force of the spell he had cast, and we needed to get him somewhere safe immediately-- those two men might not have gone away for good, and we were afraid they would return. The safest place for Harry would be, of course, back inside Number Four, so Tuesday and I carried him across the street. Theo, Charlie, and Fletcher stayed to make sure the area was secure, and to deal with the Muggles who had seen the attack." Professor Lupin paused slightly. "There was one Muggle woman, Mrs. Gains, I believe her name was, who was hit by the Crutacius curse during the crossfire."
Mr. Herron confirmed this. "The poor woman was out of her mind with pain. Whereas the use of the Crutacius curse on a wizard only cause bodily pain as long as the curse is being administered, a Muggle affected by it will continue to feel the constant level of pain for the rest of their life," he said, regretfully. "There was nothing we could do for her but to send for St. Mungo's. Thankfully most of the other casualties were nowhere near as severe, just Leg-Locker and such."
"And, then, of course, there was the problem with the Dursleys," continued Lupin wearily. "The blasted woman had seen everything, and wouldn't let Tuesday and I bring Harry inside. Her own nephew nearly unconscious on her doorstep, and she wouldn't let him in." Lupin's voice was edged with an anger Ginny had never heard before.
"Insufferable woman," Ms. Birchfald interjected angrily, "raving about how Harry was going to get her 'darling Dudiekins' hurt, and how she knew there would be trouble the moment her sister got her letter from 'that school.' Fool of a Muggle. 'I won't let any more of your kind in my house, you hear me?'" Tuesday mimicked Mrs. Dursley's shrill voice with near perfection. "'I won't have that boy back inside this house, not now, and not ever!' and I believe she really meant it. She wouldn't listen to a word of reason. I got so fed up I tried an Obliviate on her, just to shut her up for a moment, you understand. But it didn't work-- strange, because my Memory charms are usually quite sound-- she just screamed bloody murder and slammed the door in our face, so we had no choice but to take Harry back over to Arabella's, which is where we contacted Dumbledore to inform him of the attack."
***
"And that," Dumbledore said with an air of finality, "brings us up to the present, I believe. I of course contacted Harry's guardian and made arrangements for him to be brought here for the remainder of the summer. I also sent word to the Ministry that they might need to do some containment in Surrey, which I believe they have already taken care of."
Ginny had been lulled into a passive listening state while most of the explanation was given, but she suddenly came back to herself, jarred by Dumbledore's matter-of-fact comment.
"Harry's guardian?" she blurted out, looking at Dumbledore. "You mean, his aunt and uncle? But they already knew, didn't they?"
"Yes, they knew, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore answered patiently, "But that is not to whom I refer. Harry's godfather, a close friend of the Potters, is his legal wizarding guardian, and needed to be told of the attack."
"Well, where is he? Why didn't he come tonight? Doesn't he want to make sure that Harry's all right?" Ginny was outraged at the lack of attention Harry had received from the so-called godfather.
Dumbledore chuckled. "To answer your questions: yes, he did want to make sure Harry was all right, he did come tonight, and he is at the moment upstairs with Harry." Seeing her disbelieving face, Dumbledore explained further. "The black dog that came with us answers both to the name of Snuffles and Sirius Black."
Ginny bit back a horrified gasp. "Sirius Black is upstairs? But he's a murderer!" she exclaimed. "He can't be Harry's godfather!"
"Well, he is, Ginny," she heard Ron say, his voice annoyed. "and he's not a murderer. I'll explain it all later. Now shut up, will you?" Ginny glared at her brother. The rest of her family seemed to have taken the revelation of Harry's mysterious godparent quite easily. Of course they did, Ginny thought bitterly. They already knew about it. Yet another breakdown of the Weasley family communication line.
***
Dumbledore smiled benignly at the room. "Well, I would say we have had quite enough grim talk for the moment. I believe we have some business to take care of in the form of inductions, correct?" He cleared his throat. "George, Fred, Ron, and Ginny Weasley-- if you would be so kind as to step forward." Ginny rose and moved to stand in front of the headmaster, her legs tingling from their long inaction.
"I ask you now to consider yourself carefully," Dumbledore addressed them. "It is true that we greatly desire you to join the Order, but it is not a decision to be made lightly, nor a promise easily broken. Understand that there is a war going on, now and always, between good and evil. You are all of you full young, perhaps, to have to make this choice, but it must be made someday, and it might as well be made now. If you join us, and Voldemort should discover this, you will be marked. This is a danger I will not conceal from you. If, for any reason, you do not feel equal to the task, you may leave the room now, without any penalty or shame." Ginny forced her feet to remain rooted to the spot, though part of her wanted to turn and flee.
Seeing that the younger Weasleys all seemed determined to hold their ground, Dumbledore smiled. "Good," he said, reaching into his robes and producing a scroll of parchment and a blood-red quill. "Molly, is there an inkwell in the immediate vicinity?" Mrs. Weasley dug around in the drawers of a nearby desk, producing a half-empty inkpot.
Dumbledore drew his wand, and with a quick flick the parchment unrolled, hovering in mid-air, and a soft glow surrounded the scroll in gold light. "If you still are of a mind to join with the Order, write Me Libente Datare with your name next to it." Fred stepped confidently forward and took hold of the quill. A moment later, Ginny could see his name shine a brilliant gold, and disappear on the page. George went next, his hand trembling slightly as he wrote the unfamiliar Latin words. His signature also flashed gold and sank into the parchment.
Ron took the quill and stepped up to the scroll. "I will give," he told Dumbledore seriously. "I'd give anything for Harry, you know." He wrote out the phrase with a look of determination, and signed his name with a flourish. Dumbledore smiled and briefly grasped Ron's hand. "Welcome," he said warmly.
It was her turn, Ginny knew. Ron handed her the scarlet quill, and she walked blindly to the scroll. She hesitated slightly, and, looking up, caught the headmaster's eyes. "Do not," Dumbledore said in a low voice even she could barely hear, "mistake a sense of obligation for a true desire. It is not wise to sign your name to anything you do not feel."
Ginny closed her eyes. Her hand hovered above the page, and her mind went suddenly blank. Pain, great pain, and a horrible wrenching in her hand-- Ginny gasped and opened her eyes, and saw her hand jerk away from the page. It took every ounce of strength she had to force her hand back down, and write the words. The feeling of resistance was gone the moment she finished scratching out datare on the parchment, and, feeling somehow drained, she signed her name: Ginny Weasley. The letters flashed gold, then turned a deep blood red. They did not fade, as everyone else's had, but remained bold and clear for the world to see.
She looked up at Dumbledore, confused. He smiled mysteriously, and rolled the parchment back up, and hid it back among the folds of his robes. "What was that?" Ginny breathed, quietly, not wanting the others to know what had just happened. "Why didn't my name disappear?"
"Too many questions for one night, Miss Weasley. I must beg you patience once more, I'm afraid," Dumbledore returned, his voice still low and secretive. Then, turning from her, he announced in his usual jovial tones, "And that, I think, is more than enough for tonight. I rather exhausted, as I am sure most of you must. Let us to bed, and we will finish this matter tomorrow." Dumbledore stood up slowly from the rocking chair he had occupied. "For those of you going elsewhere tonight, we will reconvene back here tomorrow at noon. Hopefully then Mr. Potter will be in condition to give us his account. Bill," he said, turning to the hearth, "do you think you will be able to be with us in person tomorrow? Or must we once again make do with only a part of you?"
Bill grinned. "Knew you couldn't get on without me," he joked. "Actually, I've already put in for a few days' leave with my boss. I should be there by noon, no problem."
"Excellent. Well, I will see you all tomorrow then." Dumbledore made his way over to the door. "Please forgive a foolish old wizard, but I fear my years of sitting up into the wee small hours have long since passed. Arthur, Molly, thank you for your hospitality," Dumbledore said, bowing in their direction. "And now, goodnight. And take care, all," he added seriously.
And with a slight pop! the old wizard was gone.
***
Ginny walked up the stairs to her room in the dark. She had waited until everyone else had left before she doused the fire and shut the living room door behind her-- she didn't much feel like company.
Her head felt muddled, crammed full of disturbing ideas that she wasn't sure she wanted there at all. Attacks and Killing Curses, puddles of blood and dark red letters that wouldn't fade were crowding out the comfortable old concerns that had been so deeply rooted in her thoughts. Is it worth it? she wondered to herself, sliding her hand up the cold banister. True, I know what is going on now, but am I better off knowing? Were they right not to tell me?
Before she could add this to the ever-growing collection of upsetting musings, Ginny was startled by a sudden noise from behind Ron's door. Harry, she thought, and pushed the door open gently. Harry lay tangled up in the orange sheets on Ron's bed. His right arm, thrown in sleep over his face, was wrapped in a clean white bandage. He grunted softly and rolled onto his side. It was only then that Ginny noticed the dark figure sitting beside him. Sirius Black, I presume, her inner voice proclaimed giddily.
"I'm-- I'm sorry," she whispered to the dark figure, as his head turned towards her. "I just wanted to make sure he was all right."
"He's doing much better," Sirius Black said, his voice curiously gruff. "You're Ginny?" he asked. Ginny nodded, and made to leave the room. "No," Sirius stood up from his seat. "Stay, if you like. I don't mind. I could do with the company, to tell the truth." Ginny paused. An invitation to sit alone in a dark room with a convicted murderer would have sent her running this morning, but--
"I'd be glad to," she heard herself say.