Author's Notes: Extremely long and detailed chapter alert! You may ask how one person could remember all this in detail, but just recall…its Hermione. ^_^

Congratulations to Ritzel, new fangirl, and the first ever fanboy, Xavior Nightshadow. Godspeed, fanboy. Godspeed.

Lavender, I read Princess in Waiting too, and I was excited when they mentioned the hot guys from Gilmore Girls in that book too! Go Jess! *Swoons*

…

Still can't touch me!

Dodododo…

Friday, 14 July

12:23 a.m.

So much has happened in the past twenty-four hours that I've only just got a moment to myself. Ginny's fast asleep (I don't see how anyone can sleep soundly in this house, though) but I'm wide awake, and I found myself grabbing a spare quill and this book from my trunk a few minutes ago. I just…need to write things down and have a look at them.

It was a fairly uneventful day until this evening, at about seven o'clock, just before tea. Unfortunately, Mrs. Crick seemed to have put her temporary offence at my ranting behind her, because she "dropped by" to return a letter addressed to us that had been "delivered to her house by mistake" (Dad and I suspected that she stole it from our mailbox). Mum took pity on her and invited her in to eat with us.

Mrs. Crick hadn't forgotten my rant on Wednesday, however, and she seemed to be walking on eggshells when addressing me. She'd obviously decided that analyzing my lack of self-confidence, tomboyish tendencies, and/or emotional dissatisfaction was now dangerous waters, and moved on to criticizing a broader, safer subject – teenagers in general. She started telling us about how youth crime has gone up twenty percent in the past year, and that teenagers as young as thirteen are physically abusing their siblings and whatnot.

Dad said something about me being underprivileged, as I didn't have any siblings to abuse.

"Jest if you will, Glen," Mrs. Crick said huffily. I was able to roll my eyes, as my back was turned to her; I had gone to fetch another place setting for her. "You wouldn't believe the number of troubled teenagers I get…all into drugs, gangs, cults…" she suddenly lowered her voice. "Why, I've even seen it in our own neighbourhood. On the way over here, I spotted a group of people lurking down the street…" she lowered her voice again, until she was barely whispering, as if afraid of being overheard, "all wearing black robes."

The glass I had just fetched for Mrs. Crick slipped out of my hands and smashed on the floor. Mrs. Crick yelped and Mum rushed over to help me clean up.

I must have looked a fright – all the blood seemed to have drained from my face, and my hands were trembling. I slowly knelt down to help Mum clean up, reaching out towards the broken glass as if in a daze. Mum's eyes met mine. She had caught the comment about people in robes, but she couldn't have known what it really meant. But I had Malfoy's foul voice was ringing in my ears.

"Mudbloods and Muggle-borns first…"

I abruptly stood up and dashed over to the window above the kitchen sink, then threw aside the curtains and stared out at Arbour Court.

It was difficult to see anything, because all the streetlamps had gone out. This in itself, I thought, was a bad sign. But as I continued to search the dark street, I saw movement down the road. My heart stopped; there, moving in the shadows down the street, was a group of robe-clad figures.

Death Eaters, I thought as my mind recovered from temporary, terror-induced shock. Death Eaters on Arbour Court.

Without a second thought, I flew out of the kitchen ("What is wrong with that girl?" Mrs. Crick cried, scandalized), pounded up the stairs, and ran into my room. My trunk burst open magically, and I dove for the object lying atop all my books and other school things – my wand.

I don't know what I thought I was going to do. What could an almost fifteen-year-old witch possibly have done against a group of Death Eaters? I mean, I'm not Harry. But I wasn't going to sit there and let them get anywhere near my parents, either. So I fled down the stairs (Mum, Dad, and Mrs. Crick had come to the bottom of the staircase to investigate my mysterious behaviour and had to leap out of my way), wand out and ready, and stood shaking at the front door, suddenly unsure of what exactly to do.

"What in the world is wrong with you, girl?" Mrs. Crick demanded. I barely heard her; the ringing in my ears was back.

"Hermione…" Dad began in puzzled disbelief, eyeing my wand.

"Who do you think you are to give your parents such a fright, running around like a chicken with its head cut off – " Mrs. Crick continued ranting.

"Be quiet, Mrs. Crick," I ordered in a high-pitched voice. I don't know what I was waiting for – the sounds of chaos, panic, and destruction, perhaps?

" – and waving a stick around wildly!" Mrs. Crick continued, outraged. "What – "

"Shut up!" I snapped, and this time my voice sounded wobbly. I had heard sounds outside the door.

But I stood my ground, and in that moment I knew why I had been put in Gryffindor.

I threw open the door and prepared myself to scream the most horrendous curse I could think of, but before I could, my brain registered bright red hair. My heart started beating normally again and I nearly sobbed with relief. Lucius Malfoy did not stand on my doorstep…Ron did.

"Ron!" I cried in relief. And then I did a very silly thing - I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him very tightly.

I could practically feel the heat radiating off Ron's face. "Er, hello to you too, Hermione," he muttered, embarrassed. Also rather embarrassed, and suddenly very aware that my parents and Mrs. Crick were standing behind me, I quickly let go of him. I marked the fact that Ron had somehow managed to grow a couple more inches in the span of two weeks, and that he is now nearly as tall as Dad, and Dad's quite tall.

"I thought you were a Death Eater!" I blurted out, suddenly feeling extremely stupid.

Ron blinked and looked astounded. "Why?" he asked incredulously, which made me feel even stupider.

It was then that I noticed the group of robe-clad figures behind him, crowded on my front porch. There was Ron's father, his eldest brother Bill, and a young witch whom I didn't know at that time. But most shocking was that two of my old Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers – Professor Moody and Professor Lupin – were standing next to Bill.

Except this wasn't really the Moody that had been my teacher, as that Moody had been a crazed impostor. But that's beside the point.

"See, Mad-Eye, I told you we shouldn't sneak about and take out all the lights," said the pale young witch, Tonks. "We scared her senseless."

"Shut up and quit dallying," Moody barked, shoving forward into the house. I took a startled step backwards, possibly due to the whole crazed impostor thing. "We could have already have been seen by countless Muggles!"

Mr. Weasley and the others followed suit, clambering into the house. Tonks looked around in interest.

"Death Eaters, eh?" barked Moody, his magical blue eye on me. I felt my cheeks grow hot, extremely aware of my paranoia and stupidity in front of him. "Death Eaters wouldn't come to your front door, girl. Oh no, they'd – "

"Alastor," interrupted an even shabbier and more tired-looking Lupin than the one I remembered. Moody turned both eyes towards Lupin, who nodded slightly towards my parents and Mrs. Crick.

Mrs. Crick was backed against the wall, plainly terrified of Mad-Eye Moody. She was gawking at his mangled face and magical blue eye, which was rolling about. Dad had a protective arm around Mum's shoulders, but neither of them looked frightened – they knew Mr. Weasley and Ron, after all – just confused. Dad was looking at Moody's magical eye with great interest. But now both Moody's eyes were fixed on Mrs. Crick.

"A Muggle?" he roared. He whirled to glare at the pale witch, who at that time had short, curly blonde hair. "Tonks! You said the house was clear!"

"Well she wasn't here ten minutes ago," Tonks retorted. "How was I supposed to know she'd show up?"

"Um…if you don't mind me asking," I said in a small voice, "why are you all here?"

There was a short silence, in which my parents stared expectantly at the little ragtag group of wizards, and Mrs. Crick continued to look frightened and bewildered, now slowly backing against the wall.

"Ron, did you send Hermione her letter?" Mr. Weasley asked kindly. But his voice sounded a bit peculiar, as if this had all been rehearsed.

"I only got one letter from Ron…about a week ago…and it didn't say anything about you coming here," I spoke up faintly.

"Oh no," said Lupin pityingly. The feeling that this was all just a show for my parents increased. "Then you had no idea we were coming, did you?"

Mum was starting to look a bit more relaxed. "Coming…why?" she asked as politely as possible.

"Well, you see, my family and I are going on a little holiday, and Ron had written Hermione to see if she could come with us," Mr. Weasley explained in the same well-rehearsed way. "I suppose she didn't get the letter…we thought that she hadn't written back because everything was fine…"

"Oh," said Mum with a relieved little laugh, "we thought something was wrong…you gave us quite the fright…"

"Well, come into the kitchen," Dad said, still watching Moody's eye with fascination, "I suppose we can talk about this holiday…although Hermione's only been home for about two weeks, and she's not packed or anything…"

The group followed my parents into the kitchen. This left Ron and I alone in the front parlour, except, of course, for Mrs. Crick, who was still huddled in a corner, flabbergasted.

Now, any other time I have gone to the Burrow, I have been notified well in advance that someone was coming to take me there, and usually, that I was going to the Burrow in the first place. And then, it was usually only Mr. Weasley who came to get me, not a retired Auror, a strange witch, Ron's oldest brother, and a werewolf. I whirled on Ron, furious.

"How was I supposed to know you were coming?" I demanded, hands on my hips. "I only got one letter from you, and it was that one from a week ago that made no sense whatsoever. Didn't you think that perhaps I didn't write back because I never got your stupid second letter? You just barged in here, scaring the dickens out of me, by the way, without - "

"Hermione!" Ron interrupted, holding up his hands defensively. "There was no second letter."

The words died on my lips, and I stared at him blankly. "Oh."

"I told Dad you'd go berserk," Ron said in exasperation, shaking his head. "See, you couldn't know when we were coming, because Moody thought that there was a chance the owl could be intercepted. Dad and Lupin just said that we'd tried to send a letter so your parents wouldn't be surprised when we just showed up," Ron explained.

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open slightly. It suddenly dawned on me that his short letter had contained hints and clues that I had somehow missed. Wish you could come…see you soon…Hints and clues that they were coming. Or so I thought.

"So that first letter…it was a warning?" I said slowly.

"Warning?" Ron repeated, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Warnings. Hints. In that letter you sent me."

"What hints?"

I stared at him, feeling very, very foolish.

"There…weren't any hints or clues…in that letter, were there?" I asked faintly.

"What the devil are you talking about?"

All right, so perhaps my Nancy Drew-esque analysis of Ron's letter was somewhat uncalled for. Perhaps I overestimated Ron's intellect in thinking that he would have put a deeper meaning into the seemingly short and normal letter. But I still think that he did, perhaps subconsciously, without meaning to. The fact that he wrote 'See you soon' at the end of the letter was not an accident. Maybe I should have picked up on that and I would have been a bit more prepared when he showed up on my doorstep.

Thankfully though, before I could make even more of a fool out of myself, Bill poked his head out of the kitchen, giving us a slight wink. "Dad's talking to your parents, Hermione. I think you'll be able to come. Better go pack."

"What's he telling them - ?" I began to ask, but Bill had already ducked back into the kitchen.
"I'll come with you," Ron offered. I nodded numbly and started towards the stairs. Ron stepped around Mrs. Crick, raising an eyebrow at me, and then followed me up the staircase to my room.

It suddenly occurred to me that Ron had never been in my house before, never mind my bedroom. This thought made me abruptly feel awkward and uncomfortable as I pushed open the door to my room, which suddenly seemed very childish-looking and pink.

"So…this is your room," said Ron, and he sounded as uncomfortable as I felt. "It's…nice."

"Erm…thanks," I replied stupidly, not making a move to pack anything. I still wanted to know what was going on, and I didn't quite want to start tossing my undergarments into my suitcase in front of Ron, either.

He smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, looking around my horridly pink room. Ron's face suddenly split into a huge grin as he walked over to my desk and picked up Hogwarts: A History, which had been standing upright on my desk in an accessible place for easy reference. He smirked as he held it up.

"Is this its place of honour?" Ron asked teasingly. He ducked as I threw a pillow at him, and then everything was normal and comfortable again.

"So where are we going? Not the Burrow?" I demanded as I started pulling out clothes and shoving them into my trunk. Ron bent over to investigate the source of a loud purring noise, and tried to detach Crookshanks, who had wrapped himself around Ron's ankle. Suddenly triply fond of Crookshanks, I used the opportunity to shove my underwear into the trunk while Ron wasn't looking.

"I don't know if I can tell you right now – Moody was going on about how there's spies on every corner and – hey, cool, can I have one of these?" he picked up an ordinary, Muggle pen from my desk.

"Sure," I said impatiently, throwing a few books into my trunk. "But why do I have to – wait, Harry's okay, isn't he?" I suddenly said in alarm. "And nothing's happened, has it? I'm not in danger, or my parents - ?"

"Don't worry," Ron cut in. "Nothing's happened. And Harry's fine. Dad said we have no reason to believe you're in danger…just Mum would feel a lot better if you were staying with us…I mean, so would I…" he muttered, the tips of his ears glowing red.

My heart swelled, but I was brought back to the situation at hand by the muffled sounds of voices in the kitchen. "They're not telling my parents about You-Know-Who, are they?" I asked anxiously.

Ron shook his head. "I think they're telling them that we're going on some kind of holiday, and that I wanted you to come with us," he explained, suddenly smiling wryly. "Some holiday, wait 'til you see this place."

I didn't like the idea of them lying to my parents and making up some sort of story…but I didn't like the idea of them telling my parents the truth, either. "My parents, though…they'll be okay, right?" I asked quickly. "I mean, with You-Know-Who…there were Muggle killings before…" I suddenly choked on my own voice and fell silent.

"There's nothing to worry about…well…yet," Ron replied uncomfortably. "That's what the adults keep saying – he's still biding his time. That's the only information we can get out of them – that, and Harry's okay. But nothing's going to happen to your parents, Hermione," Ron said firmly. "My parents won't let anything happen to them."

Bill's voice calling our names from downstairs interrupted the conversation. "Almost done up there?" he called. There was a hint of amusement in his voice, and I made sure to roll my eyes at Bill's tone before slamming my trunk shut. It was packed, if haphazardly, and I had my wand tucked up my sleeve, just in case of an emergency. Ron grabbed my trunk and started hauling it down the stairs. I picked up Crookshanks and followed.

My parents and the group of wizards were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I was relieved to see that neither Mum or Dad looked frightened or bewildered – Dad looked quite relaxed, as did Mum, although her eyes looked suspiciously misty as she glanced at Ron.

Mum whispered goodbye, hugging me tightly and nearly crushing poor Crookshanks, who was still in my arms. I found myself even more curious as to what they had told my parents that would make them let me go so easily, and on such short notice. "Be sure to write, honey," Mum said as she released me.

"We won't see you again 'til Christmas, then," said Dad as he also hugged me, "but then we'll go on a nice, family vacation together. How's that sound?"

"Great," I said with a strained smile as I broke away from them. Mr. Weasley and Lupin stepped forward to shake my parents' hands. While they were occupied, I asked Ron in a whisper how we were getting to wherever we were going.

"Same way we got here – Knight Bus," Ron explained quietly. "Tonks, Bill, Dad, and me are going to come with you, and Moody and Lupin are going to Apparate ahead."

"Hold on a moment, Arthur," Moody suddenly barked as Mr. Weasley turned to leave. The retired Auror took out his wand and pointed it at Mrs. Crick, who I had just noticed was still cowering near the stairs. She looked positively terrified of him. "Obliviate!"

There was a flash of light, and a very dazed-looking Mrs. Crick slumped to the ground. Mum clapped a hand to her mouth, but Dad looked strangely satisfied.

"Mad-Eye…" Lupin groaned. "That was not the way to go about doing it. Now you've frightened Hermione's parents – "

"Had to be done," Moody said shortly, tucking his wand away and glancing at my surprised-looking parents. "She'll come to once we're gone. Then you might want to send her home."

I wonder what Mum and Dad told Mrs. Crick when she woke up, or how they explained my sudden disappearance. Whatever the case, I hope the whole ordeal caused some sort of psychological damage so that Mrs. Crick will be too occupied with analyzing herself in the future to come bother us.

Before I knew it, Tonks had flagged down the Knight Bus, and Moody and Lupin had Disapparated. I've never been on the Knight Bus before, and it's quite difficult to believe that Muggles don't notice it. It would be really interesting to read up on it…the spells that are in place to keep it unnoticed must be really complex…anyway, this violently purple, triple-decker bus appeared with the loudest sound I've ever heard in my life when Tonks stuck out her wand. We clambered aboard (Ron paid my fare since I didn't have any wizard currency – I have to remember to pay him back) and got seats near the back – except they weren't really seats, they were four-poster beds that slid back and forth as soon as the bus started moving again.

Not quite sure of what to do, I perched myself on the end of my bed, which is what Tonks and Ron did. However, Bill stretched out across his bed and promptly fell asleep. Mr. Weasley went up to the next level to "keep an eye on things".

I should probably mention now that Tonks is a Metamorpmagus – that is, she was born with the rare talent to change her physical appearance at will. Metamorphmagi are really rare, I've read all about them, and it was really interesting to talk to Tonks about her talent. Except that before she had flagged down the Knight Bus, Tonks had changed into a middle-aged witch with chin-length, mousey brown hair. So it was a bit weird talking to this woman who I knew was Tonks, though she wasn't really Tonks, physically speaking.

"We have to be careful about who sees who," Tonks explained quietly. The Knight bus was mostly empty except for an elderly wizard lying wide awake at the front, though he was well out of earshot. "If you know what I mean," the middle-aged Tonks said.

I didn't, but I nodded sagely nonetheless. Crookshanks, who didn't seem too perturbed about the sudden travelling, had curled up on my lap. "If you don't mind me asking, is Tonks your real name, or just a nickname?" I said conversationally. Ron had hurriedly introduced the two of us as we had climbed aboard the bus.

Bill, who was not asleep after all, stretched his arms and snorted. "'Course it's not, it's her last name," he explained, grinning slyly. "Her real name's – "

"Don't you dare, Weasley," Tonks threatened.

"Nymphadora," Bill smirked. Tonks shuddered and gave him a murderous look.

"Careful, Bill, she's an Auror," Ron reminded him, grinning lopsidedly.

"You're an Auror?" I asked with great interest. But I quickly shut my mouth as Bill and Tonks gave Ron and I furtive looks. I remained silent for the rest of the trip, trying to fathom what all the secrecy could possibly be about.

After a few more stops and violent jolts (I've decided that the Knight Bus isn't my favourite way to travel, efficient and interesting as it is), the teenage conductor stood up and announced that we had arrived in London.

Bill sat up and ushered us to the front of the bus, where Mr. Weasley was descending the stairs from the upper levels. "All right, you lot?" he asked in a hushed voice. We all nodded and followed him off the bus and onto a dingy street. With a loud bang, the Knight Bus disappeared behind us. I held on tightly to Crookshanks.

"We've got a bit of a walk, Hermione – didn't want the Knight Bus dropping us off at Headquarters' front door," said Mr. Weasley briskly, starting off down the deserted street. Houses were crammed together on either side of the road – tall, dingy-looking houses that all started to look alike after awhile.

"Headquarters?" I whispered to Ron, my interest piqued. "Headquarters of what?" Of course, I already had some idea, but I wanted to be sure.

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but behind him Bill coughed loudly, and Ron shut his mouth, looking sulky. Tonks had charmed my trunk to be extremely light, and Ron was dragging it along behind him carelessly.

We may have looked an odd bunch to any Muggles peering out their windows, but not too odd. Moody had given the put-outer to Mr. Weasley, who clicked it and captured the lights within the lampposts in any particularly well-lit areas. Finally, we came to a row of houses not unlike the others, except that there seemed to be an empty space between two of the houses, and that this area smelled even more of rotting garbage than the others. I raised my eyebrows at Ron, beginning to suspect that this was all some sort of joke.

Yes, one enormous, elaborate, carefully-planned joke. The things I think up when I'm tired, excited, and somewhat frightened are ridiculous.

"Memorize this," Mr. Weasley said, shoving a tiny piece of parchment into my hands. Intrigued, I opened it and read:

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

Mr. Weasley took the note, with its curiously familiar handwriting, and incinerated it with his wand. The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London, I dutifully repeated to myself mentally.

Then a most peculiar thing happened. A grubby house materialized in the empty space. Then it hit me: Dumbledore's handwriting. This was Headquarters Dumbledore's secret army against You-Know-Who, and he was their Secret-Keeper.

This, of course, is all true, as I found out later. So I think my powers of deduction deserve a pat on the back. Nancy Drew would be proud. Or rather, Sherlock Holmes would, as I have sworn off poor Nancy Drew.

I then noticed Moody and Lupin waiting at the front door. I followed Ron to the door, with its ominous-looking silver doorknocker in the shape of a snake. In my experience any type of serpent = Slytherin, or You-Know-Who. Things were not looking up.

"What – " I began, but Tonks had already bounded forward and rang the doorbell.

"Tonks!" Moody roared. But even he was drowned out by a sudden wailing from within the house. I jumped, startled.

"Filthy traitors! Scum of the earth! Dirt-for-blood – "

"Sorry, sorry," Tonks apologized quickly. "I forgot."

"You forgot?!" Moody said in disbelief. Just then, the door swung open, Mrs. Weasley's face appeared (a bit thinner and paler than when I saw her last), and I was shoved into the darkened house. I only had time to register a rather unpleasant, damp, rotting smell and peeling wallpaper before someone rushed past me in the direction of the shrieking.

"Shame of my flesh, rotten fruit of my loins!" the female voice screamed. I took a step forward, curiousity getting the best of me, only to get a glimpse of Sirius Black yanking black curtains shut over the portrait of a very ugly, very sinister-looking old woman.

"Brought Hermione back, did you?" Sirius asked as the screams died away. He turned towards me grimly. "Welcome to hell, Hermione."

"Sirius!" scolded Mrs. Weasley in a hushed voice, so as not to disturb the portrait. I was quite taken aback by all this, but even more so when Mrs. Weasley abruptly pulled me into a very warm hug, the kind she usually reserved for Harry or her own children. "Oh, it's wonderful to have you, dear," she whispered. "I'm so glad you could come. Sorry to have them just show up like that, really, I was against it but Arthur and Alastor insisted…"

Meanwhile, Sirius was chastising Tonks about tapping the door with her wand instead of ringing the doorbell, saying something about how he didn't want the old hag waking up every five minutes. His face looks slightly fuller now, like he's had a few square meals. Last year he ate a lot of rats.

"Ron, take Hermione upstairs," Mrs. Weasley ordered as Mr. Weasley started speaking quietly to Professor Lupin about something that was evidently important. Ron was getting very close to the two men, trying to overhear their conversation, and jumped when Mrs. Weasley sharply called his name again. Ron gave a long-suffering sigh and grabbed my arm, yanking me towards the staircase. I followed, bewildered and beginning to suspect that Ron was a Death Eater in disguise, as he seemed to have brought me to You-Know-Who's house.

"Mum didn't want me to come with them to get you," Ron muttered fervently as we climbed the stairs. "Apparently I'm too young to go on the Knight Bus and pick up a friend, too. Honestly, she thinks I'm…"

But I stopped listening after that, because I had just seen something that made my blood run cold. I froze on the staircase and dropped Crookshanks, who darted off to explore, my mouth hanging open in horror and disgust. Ron must have guessed what I had seen, because he turned around, suddenly looking a bit panicked, and tried to drag me up the stairs again by the arm.

There, mounted on a row of plaques on the wall, were the shrunken heads of house-elves.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

"C'mon, Hermione, I'll explain upstairs," Ron said hastily, trying to get me away from the grotesque shrunken heads. I didn't budge.

"Who – " I managed to choke out.

"This is Sirius's house," Ron explained impatiently.

"Sirius!"

"Yeah, but he didn't stick the heads on the wall, that was his great-great aunt or something."

I finally allowed him to drag me up the stairs again, but only because I was pre-occupied with the cruelty and…and…just utter revoltingness of the spectacle! It's bad enough that wizards enslave house-elves to do their bidding without proper wages or conditions, but to behead them and stick them on a wall?! It's disgusting…it's sickening…I can't even write properly, I've just gotten all furious about it again. But back on-topic…I'm horrible about going off on tangents, honestly…

On the first landing, we stopped in front of a door with a serpent's head for a doorknob. I noticed this and involuntarily shuddered, despite my pre-occupation with the house-elf heads at that time.

"Hermione!" Ginny squealed as Ron opened the door. She leapt off her bed and rushed over to hug me. Ron muttered something like, "Girls," and carelessly tossed my weightless trunk onto an empty bed in the dingy room with ease. Ginny was saying something about going crazy without another girl to talk to. I finally found my voice.

"There are heads," I said in a strangled voice. Ginny paused and smiled weakly.

"Yeah, the décor needs some work," she agreed. "We're trying."

"But apparently this place is ideal for Headquarters, so…" Ron shrugged. There was a long silence, and Ron sat on the empty bed, which was of course to be mine.

"Well?" I said, for lack of anything better to say.

Ron and Ginny exchanged looks. "This is the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," Ron explained rather uselessly, as I had just memorized that.

"The resistance against You-Know-Who?" I asked. Ginny nodded. "And this is Sirius's house?" I said in disbelief.

"His parents' house, actually. Pureblood fanatics. The place is brimming with Dark stuff…but you've met Sirius's Mum, so I'm sure you're not surprised…" Ron said.

"Sirius's mother?" I said, aghast. "That portrait - ?"

"Yeah. Someone rings the bell at least three times a day, Tonks knocks something over at least twice a day, and Kreacher flings open the curtains just to spite us at least once a day, so we get to listen to her sultry voice quite a lot," Ron said wryly.

"Kreacher?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. Ron and Ginny exchanged looks again.

"The house-elf," Ron explained carefully, "but – "

"Sirius has a house-elf?!" I exclaimed, horrified. Indignation began to well up in me again as I remembered the heads.

"Yeah, but he's nutters, Hermione," Ron said quickly. "I know you like Dobby and Winky and you're all about spew and whatever, but Kreacher's – "

"Well, maybe if you would give him a chance," I interrupted loudly, "you would perhaps get along. And it's S.P.E.W."

"We have given him a chance, Hermione, it's just that – "

"Hrmph," I said, folding my arms. Ron shut his mouth and looked offended. I considered pursuing the argument, but then decided that I was too happy to see him again – even if it meant leaving my parents and staying in this strange house – to already start bickering with him.

"So what's happening?" I asked anxiously. "With You-Know-Who?"

"Well, they've only had one meeting so far, with everyone," Ginny answered.

"Mum wouldn't let us get anywhere near the meeting, though," Ron said sourly. "But Fred and George are working on that…"

They told me that they had been here for a little over a week already, and Ginny was just telling me about the horrible time they'd been having trying to decontaminate (decontaminate…I don't even want to think about what's lurking around here…) the kitchen, when we all froze at the sound of a loud, scuttling noise on the hardwood floors of the bedroom. I actually shrieked as something quite large with several legs scuttled out from under Ginny's bed. Ron turned very pale and swore, swinging his legs out of the way of the scuttling insect, which looked like a disgusting cross between a crab and a spider. Ginny leaped forward and quickly crushed it underfoot.

"Don't worry, it was just a Scrantula," Ginny said with fake cheerfulness. "Plenty of rats, too."

Well, at least Crookshanks will be happy here.

"Those things had better not be scuttling around my room," Ron said fervently, suddenly quite pale.

"Don't worry, we're starting on the bedrooms tomorrow," Ginny assured him in a patronizing, teasing voice. "We'll do yours first, if it makes you feel better."

Ron scowled at her in response. "We had to clean the kitchen first, because it's where the Order was going to hold their meetings," Ginny explained to me.

So my bedroom hasn't been cleaned for ten years, apparently. Hoo-ray.

All three of us yelped again as there was a sound like a cracking whip and the twins appeared out of thin air, nearly giving me a heart attack.

"Ah, Hermione, joined us, have you?" said Fred…or possibly George, I didn't care at that point because I was busy having a heart attack.

"So you were what Mrs. Black was screaming about," said the other twin conversationally. He screwed up his face and raised his voice to a shrill shriek. "Child of dung, staining my house – "

"Shut up!" barked Ron abruptly, standing up.

"Just a joke, just a joke," said his brother quickly. "Ah…sorry, Hermione," he said to me, and he really looked it.

Ron shook his head at them. "So how go the Extendables?" he demanded.

"Almost perfected," George said happily.

"We'll be listening to the secret meetings of the Order of the Phoenix in no time," Fred said. "Extendable Ears," he explained for my benefit, "another ingenious creation brought to you by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

I normally would have disapproved of this new invention, but it seemed quite useful, and I really am desperate for information. The Weasley's then went into a description of the members of the Order of the Phoenix…there's Dumbledore, of course, Sirius, Moody, Lupin, Tonks, and Snape, whom I know had some important business for Professor Dumbledore last year, Hagrid, who's also off on some sort of mission for Dumbledore, someone whom they referred to as 'Dung', and a whole group of others who they only mentioned briefly.

"Then there's Mum and Dad and Bill, of course, and Charlie too, but Dumbledore wants him in Romania," George finished.

I was about to ask about Percy when Mrs. Weasley stuck her head through the door, a very serious look on her face. "Come downstairs," she said in a hushed voice, "Professor Dumbledore wants a word with all of you."

"Dumbledore!" Ron exclaimed, leaping up. "When'd he get here?"

"Just now, Ron, keep your voice down…hurry now, he hasn't got all night…"

All five of us rushed downstairs after Mrs. Weasley, and I began to get excited. I thought that perhaps Professor Dumbledore had come to give us news…that he was maybe going to tell us how Harry was, and that he could come to Grimmauld Place as well. I could see that the others were excited too at the prospect of finally getting some answers. But we got just the opposite.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he said in a very calm and serious voice, nodding to me. "I trust your journey here was fine?"

Well, I only had the dickens scared out of me, almost did magic in front of Mrs. Crick, lied to my parents, was thrown about on a jerky purple bus, insulted by a portrait of Sirius's mother, and then found out that I am to be living in a house that has to be decontaminated. But of course, I didn't say this to Dumbledore. I said, "Yes, sir."

"Excellent. Forgive me for rushing things, but I am rather busy at the moment," he continued in a very business-like manner. "The reason that I wished to have a word with you all is to discuss the absolute secrecy that you must observe in order to live in this house."

I think Fred wanted to say something rude, since they seem to know nothing about what goes on in this house anyway, but he kept his mouth shut because it was Dumbledore, and I think even the twins have the utmost respect for him.

"This means," he looked at Ron and I over top of his glasses, "that you cannot breathe a word of where you are, or anything that you observe in this house…to anyone."

"But what about Harry?" I blurted out.

Dumbledore looked severe. "Especially Harry. "I will need you to take an oath of secrecy concerning this house and its goings-on, and you must promise that you will not breathe a word of what happens here to anyone outside of this house, or outside of the Order of the Phoenix. I'm afraid owl post is no longer a safe way of communication. This has to be done."

We all looked uncertain, even the normally self-confident twins. Mrs. Weasley nudged Ginny gently. "Say you swear," she whispered.

"I swear," we all repeated hesitantly. I felt a strange tingling up and down my spine, and I knew that some magical bond had just been sealed.

"Thank you," he said. "Remember that you have taken an oath. Should you feel tempted to break it, recall that something quite terrible and painful will happen to you. Have a pleasant evening."

I don't think he was serious, because his eyes twinkled, but later the twins said that you never know with Dumbledore. I think they were just trying to scare me.

Mrs. Weasley ushered us upstairs after that, and I think Dumbledore stayed to briefly talk to Mr. Weasley and Sirius, and then left. The twins went up to their bedrooms on the third landing, but Ron lingered on the first with Ginny and I.

"It really isn't fair," I whispered dejectedly. "Harry's going to go insane without any news! Why can't he come here too?"

"Don't know," Ron said thoughtfully. "Maybe we should ask Dad?" He sounded hopeful.

"Maybe he's safer at his aunt and uncle's, though," Ginny suggested.

"But they're completely horrid to him!" I exclaimed.

"I think we can still write to him, though," Ron said. "Just…we can't tell him any important stuff."

I slumped my shoulders. Of course, I understand why Professor Dumbledore has to take precautions, but…he has to have other ways of sending news besides owls. If we really wanted or had to send information to Harry, we could. I told this to Ron and Ginny.

"It isn't fair, I know," Ron said dejectedly. He yawned widely. "But Mum's gonna have us working like dogs again tomorrow, so I'm heading to bed. My room's on the second landing, if you need me," he told me.

Ginny snickered; Ron glowered at her, ears turning pink.

"Anyways, I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast," he finished hastily, and then started for the stairs.

"If you see Crookshanks, tell him where my bedroom is, please," I requested.

Ron rolled his eyes, as if the idea of talking to a cat was ridiculous or something. "Sure, Hermione," he said. But I could tell that he would let Crookshanks know if he did see him.

"Well, 'night," Ron said as Ginny opened the door and headed into our bedroom.

"Ron," I blurted out in a low voice, "I'm – I'm really glad you came to get me," I murmured, feeling heat rush to my face. Stupid blood capillaries…stupid blushing at completely random moments…

Ron smiled awkwardly. "Yeah…I'm glad I did too," he muttered. Then he quickly headed up the stairs.

For unknown reasons, Ginny started giggling behind me. I rolled my eyes, walked into our room (which is really quite empty and bare, save for a chest covered in cobwebs in the corner, one of those old-fashioned dressing tables, and the beds, of course), grabbed the moth-eaten pillow from my bed, and threw it at her. Which was probably not wise, because she refused to give my pillow back and now she's sleeping on both hers and mine.

Oh my goodness, it's nearly two a.m.! I don't know why I had to write down every little minute detail in here, every word than anyone said…but it's not like I could fall asleep, anyway. How am I supposed to sleep without a pillow?!

That, and I swear I just heard another Scrantula.