HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX

Created by J.K. Rowling, Anticipated For Impatient Readers by Chrissy

Disclaimer: Harry and all of his friends belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., etc., and not me. Obviously I don't know what the Order of the Phoenix is in her mind; this is merely my interpretation. No money is being made off of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: Thank you, Becky!

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CHAPTER FOUR: LIFE AT THE BURROW

Harry's days at the Burrow were even more fun than he'd ever remembered them being before. Spending so much time with the Dursleys made him grateful to have the family he wished were his own.

Every morning, Harry was allowed to lie in for as late as he liked, but he preferred to rise early with the rest of the Weasleys. If he woke before Ron, he would help Mrs. Weasley and sometimes Ginny make breakfast for the rest of the family. If he woke up very early, he even saw Percy and Mr. Weasley off to work. Both continued to leave before the sun rose, and return long after it set.

The fun he was having almost helped Harry to forget his uneasiness, but not quite. He had been at the Burrow for several days now, and Hedwig still hadn't arrived. Each day she was late, Harry grew more and more worried. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley seemed to have forgotten about Hedwig entirely, though, and Harry was loath to bring the topic up on his own. The Weasleys had enough to worry about, and Harry reminded himself that he didn't really know that anything had happened to Hedwig - she could be sick, or delayed by weather. Something in his head occasionally suggested a more sinister explanation, but Harry would angrily stuff that voice away, worried that he was becoming paranoid and losing his nerve.

After four days, though, Harry could no longer deny that something had happened to Hedwig. He knew that she was in perfect health, and had always been a hearty bird. Four days was more than enough time for her to have even stopped on the way, and still have recovered and flown on.

Harry's stomach churned at images of Hedwig, his pet, fallen somewhere along the way. She'd been his owl since the day he'd found out he was a wizard. She'd been a gift from Hagrid. He couldn't fathom finishing his time at Hogwarts with any other bird.

It was a Saturday afternoon. Hermione had written saying that she would arrive the next day, and Harry could imagine what her reaction would be upon discovering that Harry had waited nearly a week to report the news of Hedwig - news which she, of course, would consider gravely significant. So he wanted to get it out in the open before she arrived.

Arthur and Percy Weasley had finally managed to take the day off, and the family had decided to make a day of it. Mrs. Weasley was inside preparing the largest supper they had eaten all week, while the boys and Ginny played Quidditch in the garden (minus the Golden Snitch, of course). Harry circled as high as he could without being seen by the neighbors, savoring the feel of the air on his face and neck, gripping the smooth wood handle of his Firebolt, hoping that after a year out of training, he would still be able to play for the Gryffindor team when school began.

He soared higher and higher around the garden, his problems with Hedwig and Quidditch and Hogwarts and the Weasleys and Voldemort peeling away with every foot like so many layers of paint. Underneath all of his troubles, he was Harry, and this felt wonderful.

Too soon, it was time to go inside for supper. Harry walked beside Ron, only half-listening to his friend's jokes as he waited for the moment to pull Mr. Weasley aside. Then they were inside, and seating themselves around the table. Harry wished he'd found a way to bring up the topic earlier; he didn't think he could voice his fears in front of the whole Weasley family.

As soon as they had all sat down, Mrs. Weasley charmed the food to float around the table. Harry reached out and grabbed the black pudding and chips when they came by him, and a glass of pumpkin juice. Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself; the food was delicious.

He had barely begun to chew, though, when Percy, who was sitting beside him, cleared his throat. Harry looked over at him, but nobody else did. He cleared his throat again, and then finally, with a look of impatience, annoyance, and a fair amount of dread, banged his fist down on the table. "Excuse me!"

"You're excused," Ron muttered from Harry's right.

Percy shot him a withering glare. "I have something important to announce." His face was wrinkled with a strange mixture of arrogance and fear.

"What is it, Percy, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly, ignoring the others.

Percy stood, trembling slightly. "I.I'm going to be married." Immediately he sank back down in his seat and began to shovel food into his mouth, his head ducked as though waiting for a blow.

There was silence around the rest of the table, broken only by the crash of Mrs. Weasley's glass as it dropped and shattered on the floor.

Suddenly, everyone began to talk at once.

"Percy, married?"

"But who's he seeing, then?"

"Yeah, Perce, who's the lucky lady?"

"Does that mean we get his room when he moves out?"

The only two who remained silent were Ron and Mrs. Weasley. Harry could see Ron's lips moving soundlessly, his shock apparently too deep for words. Harry looked down to the end of the table, and realized as he did so that the rest of the Weasleys were waiting for Molly's reaction, as well.

Molly Weasley, however, looked quite calm. She folded her napkin and cleared her throat, and the noise died down at once. "Tell me," she directed at Percy, when all was quiet, "Who is the mysterious bride-to-be? Why haven't you introduced her to us before?" Her tone remained calm, but Harry could see the angry glint in her eye.

Percy looked around the table, as if summoning his courage, and set his fork down. "Actually, Mother," he said levelly, "you have met her. Her name is Penelope Clearwater. We've been dating for more than three years now, you see."

"Quite a lovely girl," Arthur Weasley ventured, his eyes still on his wife. "Wouldn't you say, Molly?"

"Indeed." Her tone was icy, but she resumed eating without saying anything further. Ginny let out a relieved sigh, Fred and George tried hard not to laugh, and Ron began to smile.

Percy, however, still looked troubled. "What do you have against Penelope then, Mum?"

The chatter died down again as everyone waited for her response.

"Nothing at all," Mrs. Weasley replied, refusing to look at him.

Conversation quickly resumed, Harry felt himself sighing with relief. Mrs. Weasley's anger was truly something to be reckoned with. He didn't fancy the idea of ever being present when she was enraged - least of all over supper, and in front of all the other Weasleys.

It wasn't until after supper that Harry remembered about Hedwig. He felt guilty - she had been his only pet for more than four years, so how could he forget about her so easily? And why hadn't he reported her disappearance before now? Some friend he was turning out to be.

When Ron pulled Harry away to go upstairs - and presumably talk more on Quidditch - Harry excused himself. "I'll be up in a minute. I just have to ask your dad something."

"Okay." Ron looked puzzled, and Harry couldn't blame him. They never kept secrets from one another - and sooner or later, Ron was bound to notice Hedwig's disappearance, too.

"I'll tell you in a minute," Harry promised. Ron left, and Harry wandered out to the kitchen, where Mr. Weasley was supervising the clean-up - a challenging feat.

"No! Fred - we're doing this the Muggle way! No magic!"

"It's not that difficult," Fred argued, raising his wand and sending a plate into the cupboard - crashing into the cupboard. "Well, perhaps that wasn't the best illustration of my point. still."

"It's all right, Dad," George put in. "See?" His plate zoomed beautifully onto the shelf, landing silently atop the other plates in the pile.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "Boys, you're not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts. You know the rules."

"No, they changed that rule," George replied, grinning at his twin. "Didn't you hear? Now all underage wizards are encouraged to do magic. It's good practice."

A chuckle escaped Mr. Weasley's tired face. "That one might have worked if I hadn't tried it on my father when I was your age." He gave them both a stern look. "By hand, boys."

"Erm, Mr. Weasley?" Harry interrupted uncomfortably.

"Yes, Harry?" He tried to smile, but Harry could still see the worry- lines in his forehead. The knot of guilt and fear clenched even tighter in his stomach. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course, Harry." He followed Harry into the hallway. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, it's Hedwig, sir," Harry blurted. "She hasn't arrived yet, you see. Do you - do you think something might have happened to her?"

Mr. Weasley looked very worried, indeed. "How long has she been missing? Why didn't you tell me immediately?"

Harry shifted his weight anxiously. "She's been gone a few days. I sent her ahead of me to tell you I was coming, but she never arrived. I-I thought maybe she'd got lost, or sick, or."

Mr. Weasley was already shaking his head. "Not likely. Hedwig's a strong bird. She's not very old, is she?"

"No."

Mr. Weasley stared at Harry. "Harry, I don't want to worry you unduly, but. I need to know exactly what was in that letter."

Harry's stomach sank. "You think.?"

"It's possible that she was intercepted, yes."

Harry swallowed. "Well. it wasn't very long. I just wanted to tell Ron that I'd be taking the Knight Bus up to stay with you."

Mr. Weasley looked thoughtful. "I can't imagine how that information would have been of use. Unless, of course, he intended.to attack you here."

Harry's stomach lurched again. "You don't think he means to attack the Burrow, do you?" he questioned anxiously. "I'm sorry. I never meant to put you all in danger like this."

Mr. Weasley smiled wryly. "Harry, I promise we are no greater a target now than we were without you."

Harry looked at him quizzically. "Because of your work for the Ministry?"

"Among other things," Mr. Weasley answered vaguely. Harry wanted to question him further, but Mr. Weasley suddenly turned and strode quickly into the living room, stepping right over Ginny, who was sprawled across the floor finishing homework. Harry quickly followed, and Ginny scowled at both of them from the floor.

"You might at least warn me you were going to be stomping right over me. I would have moved." She gathered up the bits of parchment, quills and ink, and a moment later, Harry heard her mounting the stairs.

"Don't worry, Harry," Mr. Weasley was saying quickly. He retrieved a small silver urn from the top of the mantelpiece and pulled from it a pinch of purple sand. "Nevertheless, I would feel much safer if we contacted Dumbledore."

Harry nodded, feeling relieved. Dumbledore would know what to do.

When Mr. Weasley sprinkled the powder onto the fire, the flames leapt high into the chimney, and then settled into a greenish-blue color. Mr. Weasley hesitated a moment, and then stuck his head into the flames, eliciting a gasp from Harry, who had only ever been on the receiving end of a fireplace-conference.

"Hogwarts," Mr. Weasley spoke clearly, and the bluish flames leapt around him again. He turned to Harry. "You can go up to Ron's room, now, Harry. I'll be up to speak to you both in a moment."

Harry nodded, but hesitated. "Look, I meant what I said before," he said finally. "I didn't mean to be any trouble. Maybe I could get a room at the Leaky Cauldron or something. I don't want your family to be around if Voldemort comes after me again."

Mr. Weasley jumped at Voldemort's name, but shock quickly replaced fear on his face. "Don't even think about it!" he ordered sharply. Harry had never seen him look so serious before. "Harry, you're far safer here than you would ever be on your own, and - oh, yes, is that you, Dumbledore?" He turned back to the fire, signaling Harry to go from behind his back.

Harry trudged up the stairs, fear blossoming again in his stomach, tying it up in knots; his head was spinning, and every shadow seemed to leap out at him, warning him of imminent danger.

Ron was sitting on his orange bed, the look on his face mirroring the one Harry knew must be on his own. "What's going on?" he questioned guardedly, as Harry sank down on his own mattress.

"Hedwig's missing," Harry said simply. "Your dad thinks Voldemort may be behind it."

Ron's reaction was entirely predictable. "Well, I dunno, Harry," he said skeptically. "I mean, Vol-" He swallowed - Voldemort was a name that didn't easily roll off his tongue. "Voldemort. wouldn't he. attack you, or something? Why would he take Hedwig?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. He hesitated, afraid of Ron's reaction. "Ron, he knows from my letter that I was coming here. He. he might want to try to kill me again. And. well, if he does."

"Then you'll have a full wizarding family to protect you," Ron said firmly. He shook his head. "You can't go off blaming yourself. I know you didn't ask for. Voldemort to go after you."

Harry could only smile grimly. He knew from first-hand experience just how deadly Lord Voldemort could be, and knew that he would do nearly anything to kill Harry. And from what Mr. Weasley had said, he wouldn't hesitate to attack them.

"Ron," Harry questioned suddenly, "your dad said something about Voldemort already having it in for you. What was he talking about?"

Ron paled. "I don't know. I. I didn't know about that. That's rather. disturbing. I'll have to ask Dad about that."

He didn't have to wait long. The boys heard the loose floorboard creak as Mr. Weasley ascended the staircase, and a few seconds later, he was standing in the doorway.

"Good news," he said, before either of the boys could get a question in. "Harry, Professor Dumbledore informed me that Hedwig arrived at Hogwarts this morning. She'll be fine after a bit of rest."

"What happened to her?" Harry questioned immediately, despite his relief at her condition. "Where was she?"

"They don't know," Mr. Weasley replied slowly. "However. she was quite. disheveled. Dumbledore suspects that she put up quite a fight. I think it's safe to assume that she was indeed intercepted by Voldemort." He, too, had to force the word out, but Harry was proud of the Weasleys. They were one of the very few wizarding families that accepted Voldemort's return and wanted to do something about it, rather than simply hiding and pretending he didn't exist.

"Then he is planning to attack here," Ron said nervously.

"Now, we don't know that, Ron!" Mr. Weasley protested. "It's possible he just wanted information, or." He sighed, and leaned against the doorframe. "It's possible," he admitted after a moment. "However, I would appreciate it if you would keep that information to yourself for the time being. I don't want to. scare anyone."
"What else did Dumbledore say?" Harry questioned anxiously, not wanting to dwell on an attack any longer.

Mr. Weasley fixed his stare on Harry. "He said you are absolutely not to go into London, or anywhere else. You must stay here, Harry. We cannot protect you if you leave."

Ron stared at Harry. "You were going to leave?"

Harry shrugged, and nervously pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I. I don't know.," he muttered.

"You're not to leave," Mr. Weasley repeated.

Harry nodded. "Mr. Weasley, is Dumbledore going to send Hedwig back here?"

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "No. He's afraid any correspondence she carries will be intercepted. You can see Hedwig when you arrive at Hogwarts next week. I'm sure he'll have more instructions for you then."

Harry groaned inwardly. He knew what this meant: Hedwig was compromised. He wouldn't be able to send anything with her outside of Hogwarts. How would he talk to Hagrid? Or Sirius?

Ron seemed to read his thoughts. "You could always use Pig," he pointed out. "Maybe not for long journeys, but. well, there's the school owls, too. Anyone can use those. Dumbledore will figure something out."

"I know," Harry agreed.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat. "Ah. well, I suppose I'll leave you to it. Goodnight, boys. Don't stay up too late; Hermione arrives tomorrow."

This time Harry knew he wasn't imagining it: Ron's ears were definitely several shades pinker.