Chapter 10
From under the edge of a thick quilt, a head of dark, messy hair shifted and turned over. The pile of quilts moved as the person sleeping beneath tossed restlessly. Holly had only fallen asleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning. Despite her emotions, the toll of the past days had finally pushed her past the limits of exhaustion. Sirius, on the other hand, had not slept at all. He sat on an armchair in the corner of the room, watching anxiously as the surface of the blankets twitched and jerked repeatedly, but the person underneath didn't wake. It was just as well. Holly needed the sleep, and it gave Sirius some time to collect his thoughts. Unfortunately, his thoughts were so thoroughly scattered that it didn't seem to be doing him much good.
He had chosen not to attend the meeting with Dumbledore, refusing to leave Holly's side. She had regarded him questioningly when he had said he was staying, but to his relief, she hadn't objected to the company. Sirius had decided not to push conversation, and Holly seemed content with that, speaking when she felt the need to do so, pacing and sitting alternatively when she wanted silence. She said little about her father, with whom she had spent 21 years of her life, but spoke at great length about the mother and grandmother she hardly remembered. She mused aloud over what Dumbledore had told her regarding her family history, and voiced rhetorical questions about her involvement in the whole mess. All the while, Sirius marveled all the bizarre coincidences that fit so delicately into the cracks and holes in his own godson's story.
Sirius thanked the fates that she seemed to have temporarily forgotten about her desire to see Harry, although the severity of the events that inspired that mild amnesia was far too high a high price to pay. She put on a good pretense of maintaining control for most of the evening, even when her ribcage shook with unshed tears, but Sirius knew it was just a wall, just a mask. Underneath it all, the pain was wearing on the young witch. When you pull away enough of the supports, even the strongest tower can fall, unless you put in something new to hold it up. Sirius had no idea how to fill that role, but he was damned sure going to try.
When sleep's call became too much for Holly to ignore, she had slumped onto the couch in front of the fire with her eyes half-closed, and Sirius had taken the initiative of guiding her to the guest bedroom. For the first time since Hagrid had taken a baby Harry from his life the night Lily and James had died, Sirius felt the strange emotions that could come only with fulfilling a father role. He kept reminding himself that his job was not to be a father to a child, but to be a friend to an adult. Still, as he pulled the edge of the quilt up to her chin, Holly being almost completely oblivious to her surroundings, he couldn't shake the paternal feelings.
Sirius watched as she tried to fight off sleep, despite its obvious grip on her. When she finally drifted off, slumber brought muffled cries for her mum, as though she were still a small child. Sirius's heart almost broke at the sight, and it made him wonder what Harry was doing at that moment. Through the rest of the night, his thoughts bounced back and forth like a ping-pong ball between the Boy Who Lived, and the Girl Who was Lost. Well, she's been found now, he thought, and I'm not going to let anything happen to her. Not to her, not to Harry, not if I can help it.
He didn't turn at the soft click of the bedroom doorknob, nor did he react when Remus's hand came to rest gently on his shoulder.
"You've been up all night?" Remus's voice was tired, neutral.
"So have you," Sirius said, with an edge of sarcasm, but he dropped it quickly, speaking in low tones. "I couldn't have slept anyway. Not tonight." He turned his face towards his friend. Remus's face was drawn with fatigue, deep circles under his eyes. Sirius wondered how closely his face matched the werewolf's. "How did the meeting go?"
Sirius could sense his friend stiffen tensely. "Let's not discuss this here." He nodded towards the lump under the quilts, which had finally stopped twitching. "Come on, you could use some breakfast. Go wash up, I'll cook. We've got a lot to do today."
The wizards left the room and eased the door shut behind them. The lump on the bed shifted again, imperceptibly at first, then the edge of the quilt was slowly pulled down, exposing Holly's eyes, then nose, then her tightly drawn mouth. She sat up and reached for her glasses. She had not wanted to let Sirius know she'd been awake, didn't want the awkwardness that may have accompanied that knowledge. More to the point, she also didn't want to admit how much his presence was a comfort to her at the moment. His concern for her was profound, open, and very honest.
As much as she didn't like admitting weakness, right now, she felt weak. She felt like a bird that had its wings plucked, then had been thrown off a cliff before proper feathers could grow back. Sirius hadn't been able to stop her from falling, but he had managed to catch her before she had crashed at the bottom. Someday, perhaps she would let him know how much it had meant to her. With everything that had happened, it had been a long drop. Somehow, she felt it wasn't over yet.
Holly felt something smooth and slightly cool move across her hand, and she smiled. Seymore had emerged from her resting place beneath the pillow. She let the snake twine around her fingers, and she stroked its smooth back gently.
"Well, good morning, my little friend." The light pressure on her hand was familiar, and that tiny memory of home left her with bittersweet warmth in her chest. She could sense Seymore's contentment, and even concern. Just like any animal, she had always been able to tell, to some degree, what Seymore had been thinking. She remembered arguing with one of her professors that snakes and birds were more intelligent than most mammals. The professor had harrumphed, "Preposterous!" and she had never been able to explain to him how she knew better. Still, for all Seymore's intelligence, she could only be certain of the snake's thoughts in a vague and nebulous way. She sighed contentedly. "I suppose you slept better than I did."
[Not really. You tossed and turned too much.]
Holly started. She hadn't heard that in her mind, she had heard it with her ears. No, that was ludicrous. All animals think, but snakes don't talk. Her mouth opened and closed noiselessly for a moment before words finally came to her.
"You didn't just, I mean, you haven't learned to talk, have you?"
She knew birds were capable of human speech, and with Bram in particular, it had always just felt natural to translate the peculiar code of clacks and calls. On the other hand, snakes were physically incapable of making any intelligible sounds. They had no vocal structures. She had just begun to assume she had imagined it when Seymore swung her head back and forth.
[I always could, but it seems you have only just figured it out.]
"But, I'm not doing anything different," she protested, not considering how ridiculous it was that she was trying to contradict a snake. Seymore, on the other hand, ignored the comment, settling herself more comfortably around Holly's wrist. Holly stared in amazement for a moment, until Seymore raised her head slightly and winked at the witch. No! Snakes can't wink, she told herself. Not a chance. No eyelids.
She swung herself out of bed, careful not to disrupt the resting snake, almost tripping over the hem of the pajama bottoms Sirius had lent her. She choked up momentarily at the reminder that all of her own things were gone, but brushed it aside. She had spent her tears last night. Mourning would do her no favours.
She locked the bedroom door and found her clothes, which were now clean and neatly folded on a chair. She dressed in silence, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She grimaced and tried, in vain, to flatten her hair before shrugging in surrender. She opened the bedroom door and padded softly to the kitchen.
Lupin's house was spacious and airy, with brightly cleaned wooden floors that had seen many years of foot traffic. It looked as though it could have been lavishly decorated, and perhaps it once had been, but now, the furnishings were only just better than utilitarian, and some rooms were almost empty. She decided that she preferred the simple, uncluttered furnishings. At first thought, it seemed to be the home of an honest, straightforward person, but she also had the sense that Lupin might be hiding something. Unlike Fudge, however, Lupin did not seem to have any maliciousness behind him, more a curious duality. She made her way through the downstairs towards the kitchen, letting her socks drag along the smooth wood of the hallway. Sirius and Remus were already in the kitchen, and Holly heard them before she saw them.
". . . too young to have to be involved in things like this. What is Dumbledore thinking?" Sirius's voice met her ears, tinged with irritation and worry.
"He's probably thinking that this is the only way. We can fight the Death Eaters, but there's only one person who can take on You-Know-Who." Lupin sounded both reluctant and very tired.
"No, now there's two people, and I don't want to see either of them put into that situation!"
"Sirius, it's not up to us. It's not even up to Dumbledore, or anyone, if we all really want to see an end to Voldemort. Like Dumbledore said, sometimes, understanding fate and controlling it are one in the same. Right now, we're in a position to guide these events. We really can't let this one slip."
A pause, and Holly heard a glass clank lightly on the table. Lupin continued. "I'm glad Hagrid had good news. We'll need as much backup we can get. This is going to be fought on so many levels, I don't know how Dumbledore can keep track of it all. I don't know how he's going to maintain Hogwarts as a school, the way it's always been."
"What about Snape?" Sirius asked, bitterness tinting his words.
"Will he ever actually find it?"
"We don't know yet. He's barely been able to handle the balancing act as it is."
"I still don't know why Dumbledore is willing to trust him," Sirius growled. "I don't trust him."
"He's got his reasons, Sirius. You trust Dumbledore, don't you?"
Sirius grunted, and the conversation came to a temporary halt. Holly realized that she was actually eavesdropping. She quickly composed herself, then stuck her head around the edge of the kitchen door. "Good morning?" It was more of a question than a greeting.
"Holly!" Sirius jumped up, but restrained himself quickly. "You're awake! Did you sleep enough? Here, have a seat, let me get you some breakfast."
He pulled out a chair from behind a third place setting, grabbed the plate, and marched over to the kitchen stove where breakfast was still sitting in hot skillets and pots.
"He's like a mother hen, isn't he?" Holly asked Remus quietly.
Remus leaned over towards her and whispered out the corner of his mouth, "Cluck, cluck."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," said Sirius, looking back over his shoulder. "Holly, do you want coffee or tea?"
"Orange juice?" she asked hopefully.
"We've got pumpkin juice," said Sirius apologetically.
Holly planted her elbow on the table and leaned her chin on her hand. "What's this strange fixation you people have with pumpkin juice? It's not bad, but what's a witch got to do to get a simple glass of orange juice around here?"
Lupin took careful notice of Holly's casual reference to herself as a witch. She certainly could adjust quickly to new things, he thought. That was good. She'd need that down the road. Sirius, on the other hand, didn't notice the significance of the off-hand comment, his mind still focused on breakfast.
"Well, I could try turning it into orange juice, but I don't think you'd want to drink the results. It's a wonder I ever figured out how to become an Animagus. My transfiguration skills are terrible."
Remus laughed, remembering fondly some of Sirius's more entertaining failures in McGonagall's class. He wondered if they ever did manage to fix that poor chimpanzee.
Holly nodded at Sirius warily. "I think I'll just take the pumpkin juice."
Once breakfast was almost over, Holly having sampled her pumpkin juice somewhat cautiously, the conversation took a sudden turn. Holly put down her now empty glass and asked, "So, what did happen at the meeting last night?"
Sirius and Remus exchanged glances, then Remus leaned forward on his elbows. "Well, what exactly do you want to know?"
"Everything," Holly said bluntly.
Remus swallowed. "I can't do that, Holly. Not yet."
Holly began to look angry, but quickly conceded the point. She could sense that Remus would tell her if he felt he could, and that this was not the kind of thing for which she should go digging. She was really too tired for that kind of thing anyway. Although she knew she actually could read minds, it really wasn't her imagination, that didn't mean she had much control over it yet. "What can you tell me?"
"We're working on re-establishing the Ministry, but now, this is a time of war. The structure of the Ministry will be different then it has ever been before, because this is an enemy unlike one we've ever encountered. We're not going to get support from everyone, even if they want to fight Voldemort. This is not going to be an easy battle."
"This is going to involve Harry, isn't it?"
Lupin caught his breath in his throat, then nodded slowly. "Yes, it will. It will likely involve you as well."
"I had a feeling you were going to say that, but really, I have nothing to do with any of this. I don't know a thing about magic, and all I know of the current situation is what I've been told over the course of a couple of days. How can I possibly be of any use whatsoever?"
Lupin had to bite his tongue. Dumbledore had said to avoid the topic, but to tell her what she needed to know. It had seemed like a simple enough task at the time, but now, faced with it directly, he realized that the decision of what to tell, and what to hide, was really up to him. Perhaps that's what Dumbledore had in mind the whole time. Besides, he had already opened Pandora's Box here, had be not? "Holly, can you read minds?"
Holly let out a heavy breath, exasperated. "It always comes back to that, does it? Okay, okay." She sat back in her chair, but her gaze pierced Remus's eyes sharply as she spoke. "I guess I can, but not really. I'm not exactly sure what I do. I pick up things from people, I don't know how. Sometimes with people, but more often with animals, like Seymore here."
Sirius's chair scraped backwards suddenly and he turned a bit pale. "Here? Where? At the table?"
Holly grinned lopsidedly and pulled back the edge of her sleeve to reveal Seymore draped contentedly over her arm. "I told you she's friendly."
Sirius pressed his lips together and nodded, eyeing the snake with trepidation, but Lupin had another question. Something Dumbledore had said at the meeting made this seem very unlikely to be a coincidence. "Holly, do you hear Seymore's thoughts, or does she actually talk?"
Holly's expression was quizzical. "You know, funny you should ask. It used to be just thoughts, but this morning . . . no, never mind, it's silly."
"What is?" Lupin asked urgently.
"No, really, it's nothing." The last thing Holly wanted was to give them one more reason to believe she stood out. She hadn't slept well. The previous night had been stressful. She may well have imagined the whole thing.
Lupin let it drop. Considering what Dumbledore had said at the meeting, he had expected something like this to happen, but so soon? So suddenly? And of all things, Parseltongue? There would be more time for that later. For now, there were plenty of other things to keep them all occupied. "Are you ready to do some shopping today?"
Holly actually laughed. "You know, normally, I'd say I hate shopping, but I think this may just change my mind. Besides, I can't just go about in the same clothes every day, now can I?"
"There's a lot more than clothes at Diagon Alley," Sirius said. "You'll be needing some of your own potions supplies, a wand, and lots of books for your studies. If I know Remus, he'll help you along by dragging you directly through everything headfirst."
"Should I be scared?" she smirked.
Lupin favoured her with a soft smile. "The whole point is not to be scared. First lesson: Fear is the worst force a person can encounter. Evil thrives on it. If you can conquer your fears, you've overcome the greatest challenge life can give you. When you are resolute on the inside, nothing can topple you from the outside. The courageous and the power- hungry are natural enemies for that reason. It's also the underlying reason behind the fairy-tale endings of good triumphing over evil. It has nothing to do with morality or fate, but the sheer fact that pure courage can not be destroyed." He sat back and sighed inwardly.
Holly's expression was contemplative as she searched Lupin's face. Somehow, she knew her grandmother would have agreed.
Lupin leaned forward and clapped his hands on the table, grinning. "Before we go any further into lessons though, we need to get your supplies, and to do that, you need a disguise!"
She rolled her eyes. "Now I am afraid."
Lupin laughed, then said evenly, "Hold still."
Holly fought the impulse to run as Lupin aimed his wand at her. He muttered something under his breath. At first, Holly didn't notice anything, but suddenly, she felt a cool, tingly sensation at the back of her neck. Her eyes widened, caught between surprise and horror as she reached up and grabbed the long, dark, wavy locks of hair cascading past her shoulders.
"Oh no you don't! No way! Fix it!" she demanded.
"Whoa, easy there!" Sirius said. "He'll fix it as soon as we get back. It's temporary."
Holly fumed and grumbled, crossing her arms and slouching in her chair.
Lupin grinned broadly. "Actually, I think it looks quite good on you. We'll have to make some other small adjustments, but the longer hair makes a huge difference."
Sirius scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder how she'd look as a blonde?"
Holly's face flared red with fury as she leveled her gaze at him. "You'll have a hard time looking at it through two black eyes if you ever try to find out."
Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but was cut short by a sudden outburst of laughter from his two companions. "What?" he asked, bewildered, which only succeeded in making Lupin and Holly laugh harder. Suddenly, a very strange suspicion occurred to him. He slowly stood and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Remus snickering and casually twiddling his wand. Holly choked back another short laugh, then looked at Lupin, who was now quietly counting down on his fingers. She pointed at his hands.
"What are you . . .?"
""Shh!" Lupin cut her off. "Three . . . two . . . one . . ."
"Nooooooooo! Moony!" Sirius's anguished scream echoed from the bathroom.
Lupin leaned back with a very self-satisfied grin. "I guess blondes don't have more fun."
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Conversation around the breakfast table was pleasant, simple, and utterly hollow that morning at the Burrow. It was just as well, Harry thought to himself. He hadn't slept properly all night, nor had he stayed awake either, drifting instead through a series of tumultuous, shallow dreams. Maybe it was from watching a close friend loose a member of his family, but Harry found himself feeling the loss of his own parents as though the emotions were fresh and raw. He set his face as a mask. He had no right to be upset over something he couldn't actually remember, when right now, the Weasleys were pressing on with life in the face of a new loss.
Harry didn't even taste the sausages as he ate. He greeted Ginny with an automatic smile as she joined the already-overcrowded table. Even though the conversation was subdued, the interconnectedness of the large family at the tiny table, elbows brushing elbows with no need for apology, created a tangible web of support in the room. Even though Harry didn't quite feel like a part of that web, he appreciated the sense of comfort around him.
Hermione would be leaving later that day. Her parents had felt that the Weasleys would want privacy after such a tragic loss, although it was obvious to Harry that Ron didn't see it as an intrusion. Although he hadn't come out and said it, Harry could tell Ron needed his friends there now. In fact, Ron had probably said the least of anyone, both after the memorial, and at breakfast.
Last night, the youngest of the Weasley boys had walked back to his bedroom in silence, trailed closely by Hermione, and shortly thereafter by Harry. Ron had lain back on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, not reaching out for companionship, but not pushing them away either. Harry suspected that from the outside, he must have looked much the same way after Cedric's death. Hermione had engaged Harry in a game of Wizard's Chess to pass the time until it was late enough to pretend that they were tired.
Harry looked over at Ron, who was now deeply engaged in a piece of buttered toast. "Ron, pass the pepper please?" Ron handed the pepper mill to Harry without a word, so as an excuse to engage his friend's conversation, Harry asked, "Have you thought about what classes you'll be taking for fifth year?"
"Well," he began in a low voice, "the basics, of course. I'm thinking about either Astronomy or Muggle Studies."
"Why's that?"
"Dunno. Hermione keeps telling me I don't know nearly enough about Muggles, and I'm beginning to think she's right. Astronomy is open to fifth years, and that's actually pretty interesting stuff. I really wish there were an advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class."
Harry raised an eyebrow, and Ron looked directly into Harry's eyes. Harry was taken aback by what he saw. The boyish eyes rimmed with red lashes and freckles had a dark cast to them, all traces of naivety gone. The unstoppable, unsinkable Ron had changed. He leaned towards Harry as though about to disclose his soul to his friend. "I never, never want to be in a position where I can't protect my friends and family."
That was certainly a sign of the times. Harry nodded his agreement, but that didn't mean he had to like the implications of what Ron had said. In the course of a day, Ron had matured more than most people did in years. Unfortunately, the vehicle for that change had been anger, fear, and cynicism. Harry hoped that these changes hadn't buried the old Ron completely.
A heavy thud at the door caused everyone to jump. "What the . . ." Ron started, gripping the edge of the table, white-knuckled, and lifted himself part way out of his seat. A blur of white feathers at the open window caused everyone to turn again. Hedwig ruffled in agitation, pointing one wing towards the kitchen door.
"Errol!" Ginny squeaked as she bolted from her chair. She pulled the door open to reveal a pile of decrepit grey plumage with one foot sticking out at an odd angle. "Errol?" she asked, uncertainly, her eyes wide. The foot twitched, and from somewhere in the fluff, they heard a faint hoot. The second foot shoved its way clear of the feathers, still tightly clutching an elegantly scripted envelope.
"Oh, thank goodness, Errol!" Ginny exclaimed, scooping up the tattered bird as everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. She plucked the envelope from Errol's talons as she walked, and recognized the seal immediately. "Mum, it's from Hogwarts."
"Oh?" Mrs. Weasley bustled over to Ginny and tore open the letter. "It's far too soon for the supplies list."
"Harry, you've got one too." Ron nudged Harry, who hadn't noticed that Hedwig had already come to the table and was waiting patiently for him to take the letter.
"Oh! Thanks Ron. Sorry Hedwig," Harry blurted as he accepted the letter and tore it open. Hedwig hooted and helped herself to Harry's toast.
"What's it say?" Bill asked, leaning across the table.
Mrs. Weasley began to read hers aloud.
"Dear Weasley Family, These are trying times in the Wizard world. There is no safety to be found in ignorance or denial, no benefit to be gained through lies. Vol . . ." Mrs. Weasley choked on the word. "Er, You-Know-Who has returned, alive and dangerous. However, there is also no purpose to be had in fear. Indeed, it is our fear that You-Know-Who desires, our fear that would increase his power. In submitting to that terror that is being unleashed, we only serve to destroy ourselves. It is in our courage and mutual strength that we must rely.
"The Ministry is reorganizing at this moment, and there has been an influx of support rallying to our cause. At home, with your families, in your neighborhoods, I encourage you to support and protect each other. Carry on your life as you always have, but remain cautious.
"On that note, in light of recent events, I wish to inform you of the status of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As it has for nearly 1,000 years, Hogwarts will continue to train the finest witches and wizards possible. If we cease to invest in our future through the youth of our world, then for what purpose do we fight? It may be natural to feel fear for students who are not under the direct care of their parents or guardians, but there is no safer place than Hogwarts. As always, the disciplines we teach will prepare students to be strong, safe, and successful in a turbulent and treacherous world.
"Student supply lists will be sent out at the usual time.
"Yours in Trust, Albus Dumbledore."
Nobody spoke for a moment. Finally, Ron turned to Harry and asked slowly, "What does yours say?"
"The same." Harry skimmed through the letter as he spoke. How does Dumbledore package such a traumatic event into a concise letter and manage to sound so calm? "Dumbledore must have sent them out to everyone during the meeting last night."
Hermione pursed her lips. "I wonder how they could write so many letters in such a short time?"
"I charmed a photocopier." A very tired Mr. Weasley appeared at the door as the old clock chimed.
"Arthur, you're home. I'm glad you're back," Mrs. Weasley greeted him with a hug. "The meeting ran so late."
"And it's not over yet," said Mr. Weasley. He pulled a rickety wooden stool to the table as Bill and Ginny slid apart to make room for him. It was a tight fit, but nobody cared. He sat and reached for the stack of toast. "There are still a lot of things we haven't been able to work out. Even though the letter said we're reestablishing the Ministry, it's not exactly that easy. We've contacted most of the remaining members, and will be holding an open meeting tomorrow night, but there are so many things figuring into this." He planted his elbows on the table and leaned his face into his hands, rubbing his temples. "We can't just rewrite an entire political structure." He sighed and shook his head.
It could have been raw nerves and exhaustion playing on Mr. Weasley's manner, but Harry got the unshakable feeling that there was something else, something Mr. Weasley was specifically avoiding. "Uh, Mr. Weasley?" he began.
Mr. Weasley's head snapped up, and just as he had done yesterday, he regarded Harry with a strange expression. "Yes Harry?"
Harry swallowed. "What are you avoiding?"
Hermione turned sharply towards Harry, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, but Harry didn't notice. Mr. Weasley appeared to be thinking very quickly, but finally, he sighed, steeled his face and spoke.
"Not a single person who died in the Ministry fire was on our list of suspected Death Eaters. That doesn't surprise us, but it does leave us with a couple of problems. First, there's a larger percentage of them now then there used to be, particularly in powerful positions. Second, none of them is ousted from the Ministry because we say so. They hold a lot of sway, and many are well respected." Mr. Weasley scoffed, his voice edged with sarcasm, "Even Malfoy is noted for his charitable donations to places like St. Mungo's. Basically, no organization we create is legitimate without due process, or at least common consensus within the Ministry. By the time we remove their influence and create a sovereign government, who knows what they might have already done?"
There was a powerful silence at the table as the potential implications of that statement began percolating. Even Hedwig and the now-coherent Errol were perched on the edge of the table in rapt attention. "This isn't going to be pretty, is it?" asked Charlie.
Mr. Weasley shook his head. "The good news is that we have the support of most of the giants. Hagrid and Madame Maxime were largely successful, although apparently some of the support was given grudgingly. We'll take what we can get though."
Mrs. Weasley looked anxious. "And the bad news Arthur?"
"Severus's mission. He's still looking, but there's no trace of. . ." He bit his lip.
"No trace of what, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked. Her eyebrows were furrowed in deep thought, as though she were trying to think about too many things at once.
"I can't tell you, Hermione. I shouldn't have brought it up at all. If Professor Snape is unsuccessful, it won't matter either way."
Hermione nodded, but it was obvious that she wasn't too fond of his response. Mr. Weasley spread jam thickly on a slice of buttered toast and took a large bite. He mumbled through a full mouth, "Didn't realize how hungry I was. Pass the sausage please?" That put an end to the open conversation. There was an unspoken understanding that Mr. Weasley did not wish to pour over every detail of the meeting. He was too tired, too distracted. Plus, he hadn't been kidding; he was quite hungry.
The clatter of dishes resumed, and the family let Mr. Weasley eat in peace. Harry still couldn't shake the feeling that a part of the story was still missing. He looked over at Hermione, who was now staring intently at the ceiling, her lip twisted thoughtfully. Whatever she was thinking about, she was sure to tell them when she figured it out. She must have noticed Harry looking at her. Her lips smiled at him, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. She was now staring at him with almost the same expression as Mr. Weasley had done. She quickly turned back to her toast. Harry was starting to feel that there was something oddly familiar about that look, but he couldn't place it. He turned back to his own breakfast and realized he was no longer hungry.
One by one, the Weasleys finished their breakfasts and trickled away from the table. Finally, Ron stood, followed closely by Hermione. "Harry, are you coming?" he asked.
"In a moment." Harry was utterly preoccupied. Mr. Weasley had been intentionally avoiding something, he was certain of it. He was now almost positive that it had something to do with him.
Hermione planted her hands on her hips. "I know you're not hungry. You've been pushing that same piece of sausage around your plate since Hedwig left with your toast."
"Oh, just distracted I suppose." He reached for a new piece of toast and nibbled the corner of it. Hermione wasn't convinced. She rolled her eyes. "Ok, ok, just be along soon, right?"
Harry gave his best facsimile of a reassuring smile. She returned it halfheartedly, and Harry realized she was still looking at him strangely. She turned and walked out of the kitchen. Ron shrugged and followed her.
Harry let out a deep breath. She was concerned for him, no doubt about that, but he couldn't understand the strange look. It was feeling even more familiar now, but he couldn't place it. He shook it off. He had best spend some good time with Hermione and Ron before Hermione left for the summer. First, however, he had to do something else.
Mr. Weasley was just placing his empty teacup back in its saucer. He looked for all the world like a man so worn out that a slap to the face couldn't have caught his attention. He shook slightly as he exhaled a long breath. After a moment, he realized that Harry was waiting for him.
"All right, Harry?" His voice was tired, but oddly cautious.
"I'm fine, Mr. Weasley, but something was bothering me." He hesitated. How on earth was he going to say this without being absolutely rude?
"Well, go on now; I'm not going to hex you." Mr. Weasley cracked a weak laugh. "It's not as though anything could surprise me after the last two days."
Harry bit at the inside of his lip. "Mr. Weasley, what else happened at that meeting?"
"Well, plenty of things, Harry." Mr. Weasley's voice was noticeably elusive. "That would be why I was there all night."
"Such as?" Harry prodded.
Mr. Weasley sighed and folded his hands in front of him on the table. "Well, the most pressing thing is this split in the ministry. We'll know tonight how many people within the Ministry will solidly support us, but even then . . ." He grimaced. "People such as the Malfoys are extremely influential. There is enough of that group within the Ministry to practically set up their own government. We don't know how many people they will be able to influence, and not all their influence is merely political. People might be willing to believe that the old Death Eaters are out to spread terror, and that they're using the rumors from last spring as a starting point for their campaign, but the idea of You-Know-Who himself having returned is still too much for them to believe. Yes Harry, even with all the evidence staring them in the face. I'm sure Malfoy's friends are going to do everything they can to contradict You-Know-Who's return. Just as Dumbledore said, there's no safety in ignorance, and keeping the public ignorant would play directly into You-Know-Who's hands."
Harry thought over Mr. Weasley's response. That still wasn't it. There was something else. Harry shook his head. "That's important, but it's not what you were trying to avoid." Harry paused and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. It didn't feel right, speaking to Mr. Weasley this way. The man was overtired, severely stressed, and emotionally drained. Still, Harry had to know. "There's something on your mind that has to do with me. I can just tell. I don't know how, but I can tell."
Once again, that strange look crossed Mr. Weasley's face. Harry suddenly realized why it seemed so familiar; it was almost the same way people used to stare at his scar. The difference was that this time, Mr. Weasley was staring at his eyes. The effect was much more disconcerting. "Harry, I don't know what to tell you. I don't even know what I can tell you."
Frustration began to pull at Harry. "Dumbledore finally tells me so much about my family and myself. It was almost too much to handle, but now, there are even more things being kept from me." He gritted his teeth. What could he do? Mr. Weasley had enough on his mind. He shouldn't have to deal with an emotional outburst from his son's best friend.
"Harry, I'd tell you everything if I could, but some unexpected things turned up in the past few days, and Dumbledore is only doing his best to keep everyone, including you, safe."
"I thought Dumbledore said there was no safety in ignorance."
Mr. Weasley winced, and immediately, Harry was slammed by a wave of guilt. He hadn't meant to snap back like that. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . . forget I asked." Harry made a move to excuse himself from the kitchen, but Mr. Weasley stilled him by reaching across the table and placing a hand over Harry's arm.
"No Harry. It's okay, and I can understand your frustration. Things have been difficult for all of us. I think Dumbledore will be able to fill you in when school begins. In the meantime, I'm sure he has good reasons for keeping things quiet."
That was something Harry could accept. Even though Dumbledore's elusive manner had been the source of some very real frustration for the young wizard, Harry trusted him explicitly. Of course there must be a good reason for keeping things hushed. Still, that didn't stop Harry from wanting to know what could be so important that Dumbledore felt a need to keep it from him. More specifically, he wanted to know what it had to do with him. He looked back over at Mr. Weasley, whose face had lost that strange expression. Instead, the older wizard's eyes held a soft kind of wistfulness and sorrow, and something else. What was Mr. Weasley thinking? Whatever secrets were hidden behind those eyes, hidden from Harry . . .
Harry's heart caught in his throat. He didn't know how he knew it, if he had seen it, or heard it, but in the back of his mind, a single idea began to flash at him. For a brief instant, Harry felt as though he had been able to see right through Mr. Weasley's eyes and into his very thoughts. One question began screaming through Harry's mind. He knew he would get no answer. He wasn't supposed to know, and he wouldn't be able to pry. Mr. Weasley wouldn't tell him, couldn't tell him anything. There would be no explanation, of that he was completely certain. Still, he had to ask, had to say it.
"Who's Holly?"
Just beyond the garden outside the Burrow, perched in a yew tree, a very satisfied raven called out one long, resonating note.
From under the edge of a thick quilt, a head of dark, messy hair shifted and turned over. The pile of quilts moved as the person sleeping beneath tossed restlessly. Holly had only fallen asleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning. Despite her emotions, the toll of the past days had finally pushed her past the limits of exhaustion. Sirius, on the other hand, had not slept at all. He sat on an armchair in the corner of the room, watching anxiously as the surface of the blankets twitched and jerked repeatedly, but the person underneath didn't wake. It was just as well. Holly needed the sleep, and it gave Sirius some time to collect his thoughts. Unfortunately, his thoughts were so thoroughly scattered that it didn't seem to be doing him much good.
He had chosen not to attend the meeting with Dumbledore, refusing to leave Holly's side. She had regarded him questioningly when he had said he was staying, but to his relief, she hadn't objected to the company. Sirius had decided not to push conversation, and Holly seemed content with that, speaking when she felt the need to do so, pacing and sitting alternatively when she wanted silence. She said little about her father, with whom she had spent 21 years of her life, but spoke at great length about the mother and grandmother she hardly remembered. She mused aloud over what Dumbledore had told her regarding her family history, and voiced rhetorical questions about her involvement in the whole mess. All the while, Sirius marveled all the bizarre coincidences that fit so delicately into the cracks and holes in his own godson's story.
Sirius thanked the fates that she seemed to have temporarily forgotten about her desire to see Harry, although the severity of the events that inspired that mild amnesia was far too high a high price to pay. She put on a good pretense of maintaining control for most of the evening, even when her ribcage shook with unshed tears, but Sirius knew it was just a wall, just a mask. Underneath it all, the pain was wearing on the young witch. When you pull away enough of the supports, even the strongest tower can fall, unless you put in something new to hold it up. Sirius had no idea how to fill that role, but he was damned sure going to try.
When sleep's call became too much for Holly to ignore, she had slumped onto the couch in front of the fire with her eyes half-closed, and Sirius had taken the initiative of guiding her to the guest bedroom. For the first time since Hagrid had taken a baby Harry from his life the night Lily and James had died, Sirius felt the strange emotions that could come only with fulfilling a father role. He kept reminding himself that his job was not to be a father to a child, but to be a friend to an adult. Still, as he pulled the edge of the quilt up to her chin, Holly being almost completely oblivious to her surroundings, he couldn't shake the paternal feelings.
Sirius watched as she tried to fight off sleep, despite its obvious grip on her. When she finally drifted off, slumber brought muffled cries for her mum, as though she were still a small child. Sirius's heart almost broke at the sight, and it made him wonder what Harry was doing at that moment. Through the rest of the night, his thoughts bounced back and forth like a ping-pong ball between the Boy Who Lived, and the Girl Who was Lost. Well, she's been found now, he thought, and I'm not going to let anything happen to her. Not to her, not to Harry, not if I can help it.
He didn't turn at the soft click of the bedroom doorknob, nor did he react when Remus's hand came to rest gently on his shoulder.
"You've been up all night?" Remus's voice was tired, neutral.
"So have you," Sirius said, with an edge of sarcasm, but he dropped it quickly, speaking in low tones. "I couldn't have slept anyway. Not tonight." He turned his face towards his friend. Remus's face was drawn with fatigue, deep circles under his eyes. Sirius wondered how closely his face matched the werewolf's. "How did the meeting go?"
Sirius could sense his friend stiffen tensely. "Let's not discuss this here." He nodded towards the lump under the quilts, which had finally stopped twitching. "Come on, you could use some breakfast. Go wash up, I'll cook. We've got a lot to do today."
The wizards left the room and eased the door shut behind them. The lump on the bed shifted again, imperceptibly at first, then the edge of the quilt was slowly pulled down, exposing Holly's eyes, then nose, then her tightly drawn mouth. She sat up and reached for her glasses. She had not wanted to let Sirius know she'd been awake, didn't want the awkwardness that may have accompanied that knowledge. More to the point, she also didn't want to admit how much his presence was a comfort to her at the moment. His concern for her was profound, open, and very honest.
As much as she didn't like admitting weakness, right now, she felt weak. She felt like a bird that had its wings plucked, then had been thrown off a cliff before proper feathers could grow back. Sirius hadn't been able to stop her from falling, but he had managed to catch her before she had crashed at the bottom. Someday, perhaps she would let him know how much it had meant to her. With everything that had happened, it had been a long drop. Somehow, she felt it wasn't over yet.
Holly felt something smooth and slightly cool move across her hand, and she smiled. Seymore had emerged from her resting place beneath the pillow. She let the snake twine around her fingers, and she stroked its smooth back gently.
"Well, good morning, my little friend." The light pressure on her hand was familiar, and that tiny memory of home left her with bittersweet warmth in her chest. She could sense Seymore's contentment, and even concern. Just like any animal, she had always been able to tell, to some degree, what Seymore had been thinking. She remembered arguing with one of her professors that snakes and birds were more intelligent than most mammals. The professor had harrumphed, "Preposterous!" and she had never been able to explain to him how she knew better. Still, for all Seymore's intelligence, she could only be certain of the snake's thoughts in a vague and nebulous way. She sighed contentedly. "I suppose you slept better than I did."
[Not really. You tossed and turned too much.]
Holly started. She hadn't heard that in her mind, she had heard it with her ears. No, that was ludicrous. All animals think, but snakes don't talk. Her mouth opened and closed noiselessly for a moment before words finally came to her.
"You didn't just, I mean, you haven't learned to talk, have you?"
She knew birds were capable of human speech, and with Bram in particular, it had always just felt natural to translate the peculiar code of clacks and calls. On the other hand, snakes were physically incapable of making any intelligible sounds. They had no vocal structures. She had just begun to assume she had imagined it when Seymore swung her head back and forth.
[I always could, but it seems you have only just figured it out.]
"But, I'm not doing anything different," she protested, not considering how ridiculous it was that she was trying to contradict a snake. Seymore, on the other hand, ignored the comment, settling herself more comfortably around Holly's wrist. Holly stared in amazement for a moment, until Seymore raised her head slightly and winked at the witch. No! Snakes can't wink, she told herself. Not a chance. No eyelids.
She swung herself out of bed, careful not to disrupt the resting snake, almost tripping over the hem of the pajama bottoms Sirius had lent her. She choked up momentarily at the reminder that all of her own things were gone, but brushed it aside. She had spent her tears last night. Mourning would do her no favours.
She locked the bedroom door and found her clothes, which were now clean and neatly folded on a chair. She dressed in silence, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She grimaced and tried, in vain, to flatten her hair before shrugging in surrender. She opened the bedroom door and padded softly to the kitchen.
Lupin's house was spacious and airy, with brightly cleaned wooden floors that had seen many years of foot traffic. It looked as though it could have been lavishly decorated, and perhaps it once had been, but now, the furnishings were only just better than utilitarian, and some rooms were almost empty. She decided that she preferred the simple, uncluttered furnishings. At first thought, it seemed to be the home of an honest, straightforward person, but she also had the sense that Lupin might be hiding something. Unlike Fudge, however, Lupin did not seem to have any maliciousness behind him, more a curious duality. She made her way through the downstairs towards the kitchen, letting her socks drag along the smooth wood of the hallway. Sirius and Remus were already in the kitchen, and Holly heard them before she saw them.
". . . too young to have to be involved in things like this. What is Dumbledore thinking?" Sirius's voice met her ears, tinged with irritation and worry.
"He's probably thinking that this is the only way. We can fight the Death Eaters, but there's only one person who can take on You-Know-Who." Lupin sounded both reluctant and very tired.
"No, now there's two people, and I don't want to see either of them put into that situation!"
"Sirius, it's not up to us. It's not even up to Dumbledore, or anyone, if we all really want to see an end to Voldemort. Like Dumbledore said, sometimes, understanding fate and controlling it are one in the same. Right now, we're in a position to guide these events. We really can't let this one slip."
A pause, and Holly heard a glass clank lightly on the table. Lupin continued. "I'm glad Hagrid had good news. We'll need as much backup we can get. This is going to be fought on so many levels, I don't know how Dumbledore can keep track of it all. I don't know how he's going to maintain Hogwarts as a school, the way it's always been."
"What about Snape?" Sirius asked, bitterness tinting his words.
"Will he ever actually find it?"
"We don't know yet. He's barely been able to handle the balancing act as it is."
"I still don't know why Dumbledore is willing to trust him," Sirius growled. "I don't trust him."
"He's got his reasons, Sirius. You trust Dumbledore, don't you?"
Sirius grunted, and the conversation came to a temporary halt. Holly realized that she was actually eavesdropping. She quickly composed herself, then stuck her head around the edge of the kitchen door. "Good morning?" It was more of a question than a greeting.
"Holly!" Sirius jumped up, but restrained himself quickly. "You're awake! Did you sleep enough? Here, have a seat, let me get you some breakfast."
He pulled out a chair from behind a third place setting, grabbed the plate, and marched over to the kitchen stove where breakfast was still sitting in hot skillets and pots.
"He's like a mother hen, isn't he?" Holly asked Remus quietly.
Remus leaned over towards her and whispered out the corner of his mouth, "Cluck, cluck."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," said Sirius, looking back over his shoulder. "Holly, do you want coffee or tea?"
"Orange juice?" she asked hopefully.
"We've got pumpkin juice," said Sirius apologetically.
Holly planted her elbow on the table and leaned her chin on her hand. "What's this strange fixation you people have with pumpkin juice? It's not bad, but what's a witch got to do to get a simple glass of orange juice around here?"
Lupin took careful notice of Holly's casual reference to herself as a witch. She certainly could adjust quickly to new things, he thought. That was good. She'd need that down the road. Sirius, on the other hand, didn't notice the significance of the off-hand comment, his mind still focused on breakfast.
"Well, I could try turning it into orange juice, but I don't think you'd want to drink the results. It's a wonder I ever figured out how to become an Animagus. My transfiguration skills are terrible."
Remus laughed, remembering fondly some of Sirius's more entertaining failures in McGonagall's class. He wondered if they ever did manage to fix that poor chimpanzee.
Holly nodded at Sirius warily. "I think I'll just take the pumpkin juice."
Once breakfast was almost over, Holly having sampled her pumpkin juice somewhat cautiously, the conversation took a sudden turn. Holly put down her now empty glass and asked, "So, what did happen at the meeting last night?"
Sirius and Remus exchanged glances, then Remus leaned forward on his elbows. "Well, what exactly do you want to know?"
"Everything," Holly said bluntly.
Remus swallowed. "I can't do that, Holly. Not yet."
Holly began to look angry, but quickly conceded the point. She could sense that Remus would tell her if he felt he could, and that this was not the kind of thing for which she should go digging. She was really too tired for that kind of thing anyway. Although she knew she actually could read minds, it really wasn't her imagination, that didn't mean she had much control over it yet. "What can you tell me?"
"We're working on re-establishing the Ministry, but now, this is a time of war. The structure of the Ministry will be different then it has ever been before, because this is an enemy unlike one we've ever encountered. We're not going to get support from everyone, even if they want to fight Voldemort. This is not going to be an easy battle."
"This is going to involve Harry, isn't it?"
Lupin caught his breath in his throat, then nodded slowly. "Yes, it will. It will likely involve you as well."
"I had a feeling you were going to say that, but really, I have nothing to do with any of this. I don't know a thing about magic, and all I know of the current situation is what I've been told over the course of a couple of days. How can I possibly be of any use whatsoever?"
Lupin had to bite his tongue. Dumbledore had said to avoid the topic, but to tell her what she needed to know. It had seemed like a simple enough task at the time, but now, faced with it directly, he realized that the decision of what to tell, and what to hide, was really up to him. Perhaps that's what Dumbledore had in mind the whole time. Besides, he had already opened Pandora's Box here, had be not? "Holly, can you read minds?"
Holly let out a heavy breath, exasperated. "It always comes back to that, does it? Okay, okay." She sat back in her chair, but her gaze pierced Remus's eyes sharply as she spoke. "I guess I can, but not really. I'm not exactly sure what I do. I pick up things from people, I don't know how. Sometimes with people, but more often with animals, like Seymore here."
Sirius's chair scraped backwards suddenly and he turned a bit pale. "Here? Where? At the table?"
Holly grinned lopsidedly and pulled back the edge of her sleeve to reveal Seymore draped contentedly over her arm. "I told you she's friendly."
Sirius pressed his lips together and nodded, eyeing the snake with trepidation, but Lupin had another question. Something Dumbledore had said at the meeting made this seem very unlikely to be a coincidence. "Holly, do you hear Seymore's thoughts, or does she actually talk?"
Holly's expression was quizzical. "You know, funny you should ask. It used to be just thoughts, but this morning . . . no, never mind, it's silly."
"What is?" Lupin asked urgently.
"No, really, it's nothing." The last thing Holly wanted was to give them one more reason to believe she stood out. She hadn't slept well. The previous night had been stressful. She may well have imagined the whole thing.
Lupin let it drop. Considering what Dumbledore had said at the meeting, he had expected something like this to happen, but so soon? So suddenly? And of all things, Parseltongue? There would be more time for that later. For now, there were plenty of other things to keep them all occupied. "Are you ready to do some shopping today?"
Holly actually laughed. "You know, normally, I'd say I hate shopping, but I think this may just change my mind. Besides, I can't just go about in the same clothes every day, now can I?"
"There's a lot more than clothes at Diagon Alley," Sirius said. "You'll be needing some of your own potions supplies, a wand, and lots of books for your studies. If I know Remus, he'll help you along by dragging you directly through everything headfirst."
"Should I be scared?" she smirked.
Lupin favoured her with a soft smile. "The whole point is not to be scared. First lesson: Fear is the worst force a person can encounter. Evil thrives on it. If you can conquer your fears, you've overcome the greatest challenge life can give you. When you are resolute on the inside, nothing can topple you from the outside. The courageous and the power- hungry are natural enemies for that reason. It's also the underlying reason behind the fairy-tale endings of good triumphing over evil. It has nothing to do with morality or fate, but the sheer fact that pure courage can not be destroyed." He sat back and sighed inwardly.
Holly's expression was contemplative as she searched Lupin's face. Somehow, she knew her grandmother would have agreed.
Lupin leaned forward and clapped his hands on the table, grinning. "Before we go any further into lessons though, we need to get your supplies, and to do that, you need a disguise!"
She rolled her eyes. "Now I am afraid."
Lupin laughed, then said evenly, "Hold still."
Holly fought the impulse to run as Lupin aimed his wand at her. He muttered something under his breath. At first, Holly didn't notice anything, but suddenly, she felt a cool, tingly sensation at the back of her neck. Her eyes widened, caught between surprise and horror as she reached up and grabbed the long, dark, wavy locks of hair cascading past her shoulders.
"Oh no you don't! No way! Fix it!" she demanded.
"Whoa, easy there!" Sirius said. "He'll fix it as soon as we get back. It's temporary."
Holly fumed and grumbled, crossing her arms and slouching in her chair.
Lupin grinned broadly. "Actually, I think it looks quite good on you. We'll have to make some other small adjustments, but the longer hair makes a huge difference."
Sirius scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder how she'd look as a blonde?"
Holly's face flared red with fury as she leveled her gaze at him. "You'll have a hard time looking at it through two black eyes if you ever try to find out."
Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but was cut short by a sudden outburst of laughter from his two companions. "What?" he asked, bewildered, which only succeeded in making Lupin and Holly laugh harder. Suddenly, a very strange suspicion occurred to him. He slowly stood and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Remus snickering and casually twiddling his wand. Holly choked back another short laugh, then looked at Lupin, who was now quietly counting down on his fingers. She pointed at his hands.
"What are you . . .?"
""Shh!" Lupin cut her off. "Three . . . two . . . one . . ."
"Nooooooooo! Moony!" Sirius's anguished scream echoed from the bathroom.
Lupin leaned back with a very self-satisfied grin. "I guess blondes don't have more fun."
*********************************************************************
Conversation around the breakfast table was pleasant, simple, and utterly hollow that morning at the Burrow. It was just as well, Harry thought to himself. He hadn't slept properly all night, nor had he stayed awake either, drifting instead through a series of tumultuous, shallow dreams. Maybe it was from watching a close friend loose a member of his family, but Harry found himself feeling the loss of his own parents as though the emotions were fresh and raw. He set his face as a mask. He had no right to be upset over something he couldn't actually remember, when right now, the Weasleys were pressing on with life in the face of a new loss.
Harry didn't even taste the sausages as he ate. He greeted Ginny with an automatic smile as she joined the already-overcrowded table. Even though the conversation was subdued, the interconnectedness of the large family at the tiny table, elbows brushing elbows with no need for apology, created a tangible web of support in the room. Even though Harry didn't quite feel like a part of that web, he appreciated the sense of comfort around him.
Hermione would be leaving later that day. Her parents had felt that the Weasleys would want privacy after such a tragic loss, although it was obvious to Harry that Ron didn't see it as an intrusion. Although he hadn't come out and said it, Harry could tell Ron needed his friends there now. In fact, Ron had probably said the least of anyone, both after the memorial, and at breakfast.
Last night, the youngest of the Weasley boys had walked back to his bedroom in silence, trailed closely by Hermione, and shortly thereafter by Harry. Ron had lain back on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, not reaching out for companionship, but not pushing them away either. Harry suspected that from the outside, he must have looked much the same way after Cedric's death. Hermione had engaged Harry in a game of Wizard's Chess to pass the time until it was late enough to pretend that they were tired.
Harry looked over at Ron, who was now deeply engaged in a piece of buttered toast. "Ron, pass the pepper please?" Ron handed the pepper mill to Harry without a word, so as an excuse to engage his friend's conversation, Harry asked, "Have you thought about what classes you'll be taking for fifth year?"
"Well," he began in a low voice, "the basics, of course. I'm thinking about either Astronomy or Muggle Studies."
"Why's that?"
"Dunno. Hermione keeps telling me I don't know nearly enough about Muggles, and I'm beginning to think she's right. Astronomy is open to fifth years, and that's actually pretty interesting stuff. I really wish there were an advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class."
Harry raised an eyebrow, and Ron looked directly into Harry's eyes. Harry was taken aback by what he saw. The boyish eyes rimmed with red lashes and freckles had a dark cast to them, all traces of naivety gone. The unstoppable, unsinkable Ron had changed. He leaned towards Harry as though about to disclose his soul to his friend. "I never, never want to be in a position where I can't protect my friends and family."
That was certainly a sign of the times. Harry nodded his agreement, but that didn't mean he had to like the implications of what Ron had said. In the course of a day, Ron had matured more than most people did in years. Unfortunately, the vehicle for that change had been anger, fear, and cynicism. Harry hoped that these changes hadn't buried the old Ron completely.
A heavy thud at the door caused everyone to jump. "What the . . ." Ron started, gripping the edge of the table, white-knuckled, and lifted himself part way out of his seat. A blur of white feathers at the open window caused everyone to turn again. Hedwig ruffled in agitation, pointing one wing towards the kitchen door.
"Errol!" Ginny squeaked as she bolted from her chair. She pulled the door open to reveal a pile of decrepit grey plumage with one foot sticking out at an odd angle. "Errol?" she asked, uncertainly, her eyes wide. The foot twitched, and from somewhere in the fluff, they heard a faint hoot. The second foot shoved its way clear of the feathers, still tightly clutching an elegantly scripted envelope.
"Oh, thank goodness, Errol!" Ginny exclaimed, scooping up the tattered bird as everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. She plucked the envelope from Errol's talons as she walked, and recognized the seal immediately. "Mum, it's from Hogwarts."
"Oh?" Mrs. Weasley bustled over to Ginny and tore open the letter. "It's far too soon for the supplies list."
"Harry, you've got one too." Ron nudged Harry, who hadn't noticed that Hedwig had already come to the table and was waiting patiently for him to take the letter.
"Oh! Thanks Ron. Sorry Hedwig," Harry blurted as he accepted the letter and tore it open. Hedwig hooted and helped herself to Harry's toast.
"What's it say?" Bill asked, leaning across the table.
Mrs. Weasley began to read hers aloud.
"Dear Weasley Family, These are trying times in the Wizard world. There is no safety to be found in ignorance or denial, no benefit to be gained through lies. Vol . . ." Mrs. Weasley choked on the word. "Er, You-Know-Who has returned, alive and dangerous. However, there is also no purpose to be had in fear. Indeed, it is our fear that You-Know-Who desires, our fear that would increase his power. In submitting to that terror that is being unleashed, we only serve to destroy ourselves. It is in our courage and mutual strength that we must rely.
"The Ministry is reorganizing at this moment, and there has been an influx of support rallying to our cause. At home, with your families, in your neighborhoods, I encourage you to support and protect each other. Carry on your life as you always have, but remain cautious.
"On that note, in light of recent events, I wish to inform you of the status of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As it has for nearly 1,000 years, Hogwarts will continue to train the finest witches and wizards possible. If we cease to invest in our future through the youth of our world, then for what purpose do we fight? It may be natural to feel fear for students who are not under the direct care of their parents or guardians, but there is no safer place than Hogwarts. As always, the disciplines we teach will prepare students to be strong, safe, and successful in a turbulent and treacherous world.
"Student supply lists will be sent out at the usual time.
"Yours in Trust, Albus Dumbledore."
Nobody spoke for a moment. Finally, Ron turned to Harry and asked slowly, "What does yours say?"
"The same." Harry skimmed through the letter as he spoke. How does Dumbledore package such a traumatic event into a concise letter and manage to sound so calm? "Dumbledore must have sent them out to everyone during the meeting last night."
Hermione pursed her lips. "I wonder how they could write so many letters in such a short time?"
"I charmed a photocopier." A very tired Mr. Weasley appeared at the door as the old clock chimed.
"Arthur, you're home. I'm glad you're back," Mrs. Weasley greeted him with a hug. "The meeting ran so late."
"And it's not over yet," said Mr. Weasley. He pulled a rickety wooden stool to the table as Bill and Ginny slid apart to make room for him. It was a tight fit, but nobody cared. He sat and reached for the stack of toast. "There are still a lot of things we haven't been able to work out. Even though the letter said we're reestablishing the Ministry, it's not exactly that easy. We've contacted most of the remaining members, and will be holding an open meeting tomorrow night, but there are so many things figuring into this." He planted his elbows on the table and leaned his face into his hands, rubbing his temples. "We can't just rewrite an entire political structure." He sighed and shook his head.
It could have been raw nerves and exhaustion playing on Mr. Weasley's manner, but Harry got the unshakable feeling that there was something else, something Mr. Weasley was specifically avoiding. "Uh, Mr. Weasley?" he began.
Mr. Weasley's head snapped up, and just as he had done yesterday, he regarded Harry with a strange expression. "Yes Harry?"
Harry swallowed. "What are you avoiding?"
Hermione turned sharply towards Harry, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, but Harry didn't notice. Mr. Weasley appeared to be thinking very quickly, but finally, he sighed, steeled his face and spoke.
"Not a single person who died in the Ministry fire was on our list of suspected Death Eaters. That doesn't surprise us, but it does leave us with a couple of problems. First, there's a larger percentage of them now then there used to be, particularly in powerful positions. Second, none of them is ousted from the Ministry because we say so. They hold a lot of sway, and many are well respected." Mr. Weasley scoffed, his voice edged with sarcasm, "Even Malfoy is noted for his charitable donations to places like St. Mungo's. Basically, no organization we create is legitimate without due process, or at least common consensus within the Ministry. By the time we remove their influence and create a sovereign government, who knows what they might have already done?"
There was a powerful silence at the table as the potential implications of that statement began percolating. Even Hedwig and the now-coherent Errol were perched on the edge of the table in rapt attention. "This isn't going to be pretty, is it?" asked Charlie.
Mr. Weasley shook his head. "The good news is that we have the support of most of the giants. Hagrid and Madame Maxime were largely successful, although apparently some of the support was given grudgingly. We'll take what we can get though."
Mrs. Weasley looked anxious. "And the bad news Arthur?"
"Severus's mission. He's still looking, but there's no trace of. . ." He bit his lip.
"No trace of what, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked. Her eyebrows were furrowed in deep thought, as though she were trying to think about too many things at once.
"I can't tell you, Hermione. I shouldn't have brought it up at all. If Professor Snape is unsuccessful, it won't matter either way."
Hermione nodded, but it was obvious that she wasn't too fond of his response. Mr. Weasley spread jam thickly on a slice of buttered toast and took a large bite. He mumbled through a full mouth, "Didn't realize how hungry I was. Pass the sausage please?" That put an end to the open conversation. There was an unspoken understanding that Mr. Weasley did not wish to pour over every detail of the meeting. He was too tired, too distracted. Plus, he hadn't been kidding; he was quite hungry.
The clatter of dishes resumed, and the family let Mr. Weasley eat in peace. Harry still couldn't shake the feeling that a part of the story was still missing. He looked over at Hermione, who was now staring intently at the ceiling, her lip twisted thoughtfully. Whatever she was thinking about, she was sure to tell them when she figured it out. She must have noticed Harry looking at her. Her lips smiled at him, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. She was now staring at him with almost the same expression as Mr. Weasley had done. She quickly turned back to her toast. Harry was starting to feel that there was something oddly familiar about that look, but he couldn't place it. He turned back to his own breakfast and realized he was no longer hungry.
One by one, the Weasleys finished their breakfasts and trickled away from the table. Finally, Ron stood, followed closely by Hermione. "Harry, are you coming?" he asked.
"In a moment." Harry was utterly preoccupied. Mr. Weasley had been intentionally avoiding something, he was certain of it. He was now almost positive that it had something to do with him.
Hermione planted her hands on her hips. "I know you're not hungry. You've been pushing that same piece of sausage around your plate since Hedwig left with your toast."
"Oh, just distracted I suppose." He reached for a new piece of toast and nibbled the corner of it. Hermione wasn't convinced. She rolled her eyes. "Ok, ok, just be along soon, right?"
Harry gave his best facsimile of a reassuring smile. She returned it halfheartedly, and Harry realized she was still looking at him strangely. She turned and walked out of the kitchen. Ron shrugged and followed her.
Harry let out a deep breath. She was concerned for him, no doubt about that, but he couldn't understand the strange look. It was feeling even more familiar now, but he couldn't place it. He shook it off. He had best spend some good time with Hermione and Ron before Hermione left for the summer. First, however, he had to do something else.
Mr. Weasley was just placing his empty teacup back in its saucer. He looked for all the world like a man so worn out that a slap to the face couldn't have caught his attention. He shook slightly as he exhaled a long breath. After a moment, he realized that Harry was waiting for him.
"All right, Harry?" His voice was tired, but oddly cautious.
"I'm fine, Mr. Weasley, but something was bothering me." He hesitated. How on earth was he going to say this without being absolutely rude?
"Well, go on now; I'm not going to hex you." Mr. Weasley cracked a weak laugh. "It's not as though anything could surprise me after the last two days."
Harry bit at the inside of his lip. "Mr. Weasley, what else happened at that meeting?"
"Well, plenty of things, Harry." Mr. Weasley's voice was noticeably elusive. "That would be why I was there all night."
"Such as?" Harry prodded.
Mr. Weasley sighed and folded his hands in front of him on the table. "Well, the most pressing thing is this split in the ministry. We'll know tonight how many people within the Ministry will solidly support us, but even then . . ." He grimaced. "People such as the Malfoys are extremely influential. There is enough of that group within the Ministry to practically set up their own government. We don't know how many people they will be able to influence, and not all their influence is merely political. People might be willing to believe that the old Death Eaters are out to spread terror, and that they're using the rumors from last spring as a starting point for their campaign, but the idea of You-Know-Who himself having returned is still too much for them to believe. Yes Harry, even with all the evidence staring them in the face. I'm sure Malfoy's friends are going to do everything they can to contradict You-Know-Who's return. Just as Dumbledore said, there's no safety in ignorance, and keeping the public ignorant would play directly into You-Know-Who's hands."
Harry thought over Mr. Weasley's response. That still wasn't it. There was something else. Harry shook his head. "That's important, but it's not what you were trying to avoid." Harry paused and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. It didn't feel right, speaking to Mr. Weasley this way. The man was overtired, severely stressed, and emotionally drained. Still, Harry had to know. "There's something on your mind that has to do with me. I can just tell. I don't know how, but I can tell."
Once again, that strange look crossed Mr. Weasley's face. Harry suddenly realized why it seemed so familiar; it was almost the same way people used to stare at his scar. The difference was that this time, Mr. Weasley was staring at his eyes. The effect was much more disconcerting. "Harry, I don't know what to tell you. I don't even know what I can tell you."
Frustration began to pull at Harry. "Dumbledore finally tells me so much about my family and myself. It was almost too much to handle, but now, there are even more things being kept from me." He gritted his teeth. What could he do? Mr. Weasley had enough on his mind. He shouldn't have to deal with an emotional outburst from his son's best friend.
"Harry, I'd tell you everything if I could, but some unexpected things turned up in the past few days, and Dumbledore is only doing his best to keep everyone, including you, safe."
"I thought Dumbledore said there was no safety in ignorance."
Mr. Weasley winced, and immediately, Harry was slammed by a wave of guilt. He hadn't meant to snap back like that. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to . . . forget I asked." Harry made a move to excuse himself from the kitchen, but Mr. Weasley stilled him by reaching across the table and placing a hand over Harry's arm.
"No Harry. It's okay, and I can understand your frustration. Things have been difficult for all of us. I think Dumbledore will be able to fill you in when school begins. In the meantime, I'm sure he has good reasons for keeping things quiet."
That was something Harry could accept. Even though Dumbledore's elusive manner had been the source of some very real frustration for the young wizard, Harry trusted him explicitly. Of course there must be a good reason for keeping things hushed. Still, that didn't stop Harry from wanting to know what could be so important that Dumbledore felt a need to keep it from him. More specifically, he wanted to know what it had to do with him. He looked back over at Mr. Weasley, whose face had lost that strange expression. Instead, the older wizard's eyes held a soft kind of wistfulness and sorrow, and something else. What was Mr. Weasley thinking? Whatever secrets were hidden behind those eyes, hidden from Harry . . .
Harry's heart caught in his throat. He didn't know how he knew it, if he had seen it, or heard it, but in the back of his mind, a single idea began to flash at him. For a brief instant, Harry felt as though he had been able to see right through Mr. Weasley's eyes and into his very thoughts. One question began screaming through Harry's mind. He knew he would get no answer. He wasn't supposed to know, and he wouldn't be able to pry. Mr. Weasley wouldn't tell him, couldn't tell him anything. There would be no explanation, of that he was completely certain. Still, he had to ask, had to say it.
"Who's Holly?"
Just beyond the garden outside the Burrow, perched in a yew tree, a very satisfied raven called out one long, resonating note.
