Disclaimer: I own nothing, other than all original characters not seen/mentioned in Harry Potter before and the plot. All Harry Potter related things belong to JK Rowling. I am not earning any money from this, nor making a profit. I'm meerly playing in their sandbox because they have nicer toys and no cat poop. C'mon folks, if i DID own it, i wouldn't NEED to write fanfiction, would I? For example, THAT thing that happened in OotP would NEVER have happened. (lmao, don't you love cut and paste folks?)
Author: Lani
E-Mail: lanirhys@aol.com
Authors Notes: Has only one person read this? **pouts** Ah well, this chapter is pretty long but i had to get a lot in.... stick with it guys! it HAS a plot, you just have to bear with me!
Review Response:
Lady Jen1: wow! your review actually made my day! i'm SO happy you like it, i was hyper for hours! and you think my writings good? **is caught between blushing and jumping up and down**, well here's chapter two for you! i'm gonna go and read yours now, 'cause i've commandeered the computer **grins manically**
Please R/R! :)
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Chapter Two
But I know I muat go on
Although I hurt I must be strong
because inside I know that many
feel this way
Don't Stop Dancing, Creed
I saw the next door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers, before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.
Foreign Lands, R.L. Stevenson
*****
The man had light-brown hair flecked with early grey, was dressed in a pair of blue jeans that looked like he'd worn them a few hundred times too many, a t-shirt and jacket.
"Hello," he said extending a hand towards her in greeting, a faint smile gracing his lips, "You must be Orion."
"Hi, you must be… the person from the letter?" Orion said awkwardly, shaking the mans offered hand hesitantly, "Are you really gonna take me to get all this," she gestured wildly to the parchment, "stuff?"
"Yes, I would." he smiled faintly, "My name's Remus Lupin."
At that moment, the kitchen door swung open and Cecilia strode through, duster and polish in hand, wearing a frown.
"Who's this, Orion?"
"Uh," she shuffled her feet, "Cecilia this is Remus Lupin, Mr. Lupin, this is Cecilia Williams…" trailing off she stared at the wall behind Cecilia's head.
"And?"
"Well…uh… sales, no… uh… je -no… he's a, no…"
When no further answer was forthcoming, and Cecilia's eyebrows had managed to knit together, Remus cleared his throat.
"I'm here to take Orion to get her things -like it says in the letter?"
Orion's eyes widened comically, her mouth dropping to silently form 'no' and 'oh damn' simultaneously, whilst Cecilia, on the other hand, lost her eyebrows into her highlighted hairline and fixed an accusing glare on to Orion,
"What letter?" the question was directed at Remus, but Orion fielded it instead.
"I got a letter yesterday, it says that somebody would come and pick me up today to get stuff."
"And where is this letter?"
Reluctance showing in every motion, she passed the letter to her.
As Cecilia took the sheets and proceeded to read them, Remus faced the teen with his own eyebrows quirked in the sky's direction. Before he could say anything though, Cecilia ordered them to the kitchen in a very tight voice, and, for some reason, Remus let himself be ushered into the room too.
Orion gulped -she hadn't looked happy, and was probably on her way to find Richard now.
The kitchen door closed with a definitive 'click', and the sounds of Cecilia's heeled feet on the wooden floor echoed as she walked away.
"Why didn't you tell them about the letter?" he asked, perplexed, "I know they're not your parents, but you should have."
"You can sit down if you want," she said, hoisting herself onto the kitchen counter, "I haven't had time to booby-trap the chairs yet and they could still be awhile."
He sat down at the kitchen table, casting a wary glance over the table and chairs before finally speaking after staring out the window behind her,
"You didn't answer my question."
"I know."
"Why didn't you tell them?"
"Because it would've been a one-way trip to grounded-dom, that's why. The Williams don't like anything abnormal, and, I'm sorry Mr. Lupin, but a letter from a school that teaches witchcraft and wizardry under a headmaster who's a supreme mugwump isn't exactly common occurrence."
"Ah."
"Indeedy." Silence fell for a moment, each wrapped in their own thoughts, although Orion's were entering chaotic in their confusion and excitement, bubbling over with questions and trying to keep up with the whirlwind of happenings of the last day: here was a man, waiting in their new kitchen, to hear the outcome of Cecilia and Richard's probable decision, to hopefully take her to a school to learn witchcraft and wizardry.
Everything was topsy-turvy, inside out and upside down, but that didn't mean it was a bad thing -this could be mean her final days with the Williams, and more importantly, Joshua.
Finally, when she could take it no longer, she sighed loudly and asked, "Is this all some big joke?"
"No, it's very real." Then Remus looked at the window again, like he was considering whether or not to tell her something, "In-fact, there's a boy next door, at number four, who goes to Hogwarts too."
Orion racked her memory, trying to think of the boy's next door. As far as she knew, there was only one boy next-door, fat-whale Dudley. "The fat one? Ugly Dudley?"
"There's another that lives there too, Dudley's cousin, Harry -he isn't anywhere near as, large, as Dudley, he's more towards the skinny side actually, has black hair? Glasses?"
She shook her head, "Never seen him."
Remus nodded his head, it wasn't surprising -the Dursleys had never been fond of Harry, and it was certainly not unusual to know the Dursleys and not Harry. From what he had gathered, they preferred to act as if Harry didn't exist.
"Can I ask another question?"
"Go ahead."
"If term starts in September, why am I going to Hogwarts now?"
He frowned, "I'm not sure."
Orion pulled a face, she got the feeling he was lying, but if it meant there was a possibility she wouldn't be at the William's for over a month, who was she to call him on it?
"What about all this stuff I have to get? They sound like things out of Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and I don't think they sell that Standard Book of Spells by Frog Newtron, or whatever, at WHSmith, y'know."
"No, I don't suppose you could," he chuckled, "If you know where to go though, you could get all of those things in London."
"Oh, okay, but London isn't exactly just 'round the corner." she paused, then, "but, one more question and I'll be quiet for three minutes," she carried on in a rush, "how much is this gonna cost me? I don't mean to sound rude or anything, it's just that I don't exactly get a luxury allowance…"
"That's all been covered, so you don't need to worry about money."
Orion stared at him for a moment, it was easy for him to say; he was an adult: he could get a job, whereas the Williams forbid her from even getting a paper-round. Who'd covered the payment for all of these things? It wasn't like she had any loving relatives, unless there was a great-great-great aunt twice removed, and from the sounds of most of the items, none of it would come cheap!
"Don't suppose you know who?" she asked, hopeful.
Predictably, he shook his head, "Sorry."
Half an hour later, which was a lot quicker that she thought they would take to decide the rest of her life, Richard and Cecilia entered the kitchen; Orion jumped off the counter before they could say anything.
"We have decided that," Richard placed the latter on the table like it was radioactive, her heart skipped a beat, "you can go."
It took all of her self-control to stop from jumping into the air. "But," Damn, she thought, there's always a but.
"We won't foster a freak: you'll have to go to the orphanage whenever you're not going to be at that school."
In the corner of her eye Orion swore she saw Remus tighten his grip on the counter when Richard said 'freak', but she shook it off. It had actually gone a lot better than she expected -at least she was allowed to go, and staying at the orphanage wouldn't be so bad.
The ultimatum, however, he had yet to say.
"We want your stuff out by the end of the day, and don't even think of going near Joshua."
"Can you do that?" she said automatically.
"Yes, we can. I phoned your social workers and the orphanage to tell them that we couldn't foster you any more, because we just couldn't handle your behaviour any longer and it was disturbing our son. Don't worry -I did inform them that we had been kind enough to find you a boarding school, so you would only need to stay there during holidays and perhaps weekends -we hadn't cleared that up yet." A sick smile twisted his face, contorting his face in a manner scarily reminiscent of something sadistic.
What did he mean? Couldn't handle her behaviour? Disturbing Joshua -it was more like the other way around: Joshua's behaviour disturbed her! "Why you -"
"I don't think that was a very nice thing to do," Remus stepped in, "however, it is your conscience not mine. As to weekends, students stay at the school, but during the holidays they have the option of either staying at school, without lessons, or going home; the only holiday they can't stay at the school is during the summer holidays.
"In regards to the 'end of the day' deadline, that will do nicely. Now, may we get Orion's things? I wouldn't want to put you out."
Remus may have been an inch shorter than Richard, but he certainly knew how to use his words, because they stepped aside, too shocked for words.
"Thanks," Orion managed, pushing open what would've been her bedroom door, grasping the letter in her hand, she'd grabbed it just before leaving, "that was cool, what you just did I mean." She paused for breath, "Do I call you Mr. Lupin or Remus, or there's the ever cool: The-Guy-Who-Shocked-Richard-Into-Silence?"
He smiled, "Just call me Remus, and it wasn't a problem, and I didn't like what he said anymore than you did. Now, have you got a bag? It'd probably be easier to carry than a box." he eyed the two boxes sitting in the corner.
"Yeah, I'll only take a minute to pack, so no running." She reached into the nearest box and pulled out a faded blue backpack and proceeded to the next, pulling out a small amount of clothes after a minute of rummaging, and shoved them into her bag.
"There, now if you'll just turn around or close your eyes, I'll be done." At his curious gaze she added, "Underwear?"
"Oh!" His face went a little pink but he promptly turned to face the other way.
Orion pushed her diary and hair things into a side pocket, "Done."
"Already?" Remus opened his eyes to stare at her, astonishment written clearly on his face.
"Yeah… how long did you think it'd take?" Slinging the bag over one shoulder she grinned at him.
"I'm not sure, longer than that." He looked around the room; it didn't look any different to when he stepped in not three minutes before, "Ready?"
"I think so." Orion went through a mental checklist: TedTed, Pafoo, diary, box and life savings: check. "Yeah."
They turned to the bedroom door, but she stopped and looked at him quizzically, realising that everything was moving significantly fast enough to be disturbing.
"How do I know you aren't some hired assassin working for my physics teacher so that he'll never have to teach me again?"
Remus laughed, "I guess you don't at the moment, would you like me to prove it? That there really is magic?"
No doubt about it. "Yes."
"All right." He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a stick, not a black one with white cylinders on the end, just a wooden stick. "This," he said, "is a wand, my wand. It's made from redwood and has a unicorn's hair inside of it." He explained, passing it to her, Orion took it hesitantly and turned it over in her hands, realising that it wasn't just a stick fallen from a tree, rather it had actually been carved, so well in fact, that it was perfectly smooth; she handed it back to him and he pointed it at a pillow that'd been thrown hastily onto the bed earlier. "Watch this," he held the wand in the air, "Accio pillow!"
To her utter amazement the pillow flew from the bed to his outstretched hand. "Convinced?"
"Definitely." Still staring at the pillow she continued, "Will I learn how to do that?"
"Yes, and more, and the sooner we leave the sooner you can get to Hogwarts."
Somehow, she managed to get down the stairs and out of the door without looking back and all the way down to the next street before jumping into the air and screaming.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, it's just, YES!" she skipped mid air to emphasise her point, "So how're we getting to Hogwarts?"
"You'll see in a minute, down here." He led her into a small alleyway, "Don't touch any newspapers."
"Why?"
"You'll see in a minute." He repeated, as they walked by a row of dustbins and stopped at the last one, which had what looked like yesterdays newspaper on top.
He indicated to it, "This newspaper has been set up as a one-way one-time Portkey, a Portkey," he added at her confused gaze, "is something that we can set up to take people just about anywhere. On three, I want you to touch the newspaper, then you'll feel like something is pulling you, and then you'll end up in a street -that'll be Diagon Alley."
"So this'll only work once? It was only set up to work once?"
"That's right."
"So how'd you get here?"
"Hmm," said Remus, "you're smarter than you look."
She smirked, "Thanks, but don't get too used to it."
"Okay, if you say so." He said, "I Apparated here, at seventeen you can take a test to Apparate. Apparation is the ability to leave one place and appear in another."
"Really?" she asked, disbelievingly.
Crack! He was standing on her right, "Really."
"Wicked."
"Ready?" Orion nodded, her stomach suddenly got butterflies: what if it didn't work? "One," What if it went wrong? "Two," The butterflies started doing somersaults, badly. "Three." She and Remus touched the newspaper and a pulling from behind her navel was uncomfortably prominent, but before she could throw-up she was on the floor in an alcove on a street. It seemed she had fallen over at one point.
"That was, weird?" she said as Remus helped her up.
"Everyone falls over on their first few trips by Portkey. Now this," he bought her to look at a gleaming white building visible from the edge of the alcove, "is Gringotts -the Wizard Bank."
"Whoah."
"And that is the rest of Diagon Alley." He gestured to the busy street onto which the bay opened. Shops were packed tightly along the sides of the cobbled street, with names like Quality Quidditch, Flourish and Blotts and Eelops Owl Emporium to name but a few. "Now, according to your list you need some books, so you'll want the best and most stocked bookstore I've ever been to: Flourish and Blotts."
"How many bookstores have you been to?"
Remus walked out, "Quite a few. Orion I want you to stay close and not wander off, okay?"
"Um, Remus?" She struggled to keep up as he wound through the numerous bodies, but her heard her and turned around, "I don't mean to sound stupid, but why's everyone wearing funny clothes? They look like robes!"
"That's because they are -wizards wear robes and cloaks as normal clothes, though most children and students do wear Muggle clothes when they're not at school."
"Oh… what's a Muggle?"
"People who aren't magic, like the Williams." said Remus absently.
"Right," she paused, thinking that this wouldn't be the first or last time she'd discover things like that, "One more thing,"
"What?"
"I know you said it was covered, but how am I going to pay for everything?"
As he answered and pulled her into the shop, she caught something in his eye, but it was gone before she could identify it.
"Your parents were magic too, and they left you money for when you would come to Hogwarts."
"Cool!" Her heart skipped a beat; did that mean he'd known them? "Did you know my mum and dad?"
"Not really," he answered, "I knew of them though, they were nice people." The feeling of being lied to crept into her again, because Remus wouldn't meet her eyes and was purposely looking away. She didn't have time to dwell on the thought any longer, however, as she had finally looked around at her surroundings.
Every wall was lined from ceiling to floor with shelf upon shelf of books ranging in sizes, shapes, colours, and apparently species too, because there was a cage full of books on a stand that had silver wings, and were flapping about.
While Remus led her to the counter where a man stood, Orion couldn't stop staring at them all: there was a stack of books so small she was amazed that people could even write in it, let alone read whatever was written, one slate sized book that looked like it was made of pure gold and a dark black one that looked like it was splashed with blood, entitled 'How to rid yourself of enemies, for good' by Ruth Less.
Remus handed the man the list,
"Could we have these please?"
"Of course."
Ten minutes later and Orion left the store weighted down with all of her books, and a new level of confusion; the money was extremely weird.
"What's the deal with the money? I'm sure he said Galleons and Knuts?"
"It's wizard money: Galleons, which are gold, Sickles, they're the silver ones, and Knuts, which are bronze." He showed her one of each, "We use these where Muggles would use their pounds and pence, it's easy to remember once you get used to it; there's twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon."
"Right," Orion nodded, "but wouldn't it be easier to use tens and hundreds?"
"Probably." he said, "So what else is on your list?"
The man behind the counter had given the list back to her after he'd collected all of the books, so she fished it out again and picked a items at random for them to find by waving her finger over the it and jabbing it down randomly.
Two hours later and Orion had everything: robes, books, a cauldron, potion ingredients… everything except a wand.
"Where're we going to get a wand from?"
Remus pointed to a rather rickety looking store in front of them, "The best wandmaker here: Ollivanders." Painted black all over, and dust-covered windows were the first impression, and even they looked old. On a board across the door there was faded, peeling golden writing that read:
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382BC
Orion stepped inside, a bell rang faintly somewhere but she was too fascinated by all the stacks upon stacks behind the counter to listen where: every stack was filled with row upon row of little boxes; the air itself was musty with age and hanging in silence. Remus, who stood beside her said, "This was I got my first wand too, it still looks exactly the same."
Orion was about to respond that hadn't they ever even ran a duster over it, but a very old looking man came from seemingly nowhere and said,
"Well hello, I haven't seen you before," he paused, "and you're not a First Year."
She felt her stomach jolt, what did that mean? How many years were there?
"I'm fourteen."
"Ah, going into your fifth year after the summer then?"
Fifth year? What was going on? Remus definitely had some explaining to do.
Then, he got himself further into her now-just-this-minute-written 'bad books' because, instead of saying something to justify whatever the old man, who was presumably Mr. Ollivander, had just dropped on her, he said, "I'll be back soon."
And he left, before she could protest.
Mr. Ollivander carried on, regardless of her rising panic. "Now, which is your wand arm?"
"Uh," The butterflies were back and it felt like they were having a party.
"Which hand do you write with?"
Why didn't he just say that? "Oh, left."
"Hold out your arm please."
Orion held out her arm and the Mr. Ollivander, whose eyes looked remarkably silver she noted, started taking measurements from her shoulder thumb, her elbow to her wrist, between each of her fingers, the length of her middle finger, elbow to little finger, shoulder to palm… it was when it measured from her ear to her eye that she realised that the tape-measure was doing it without aide, and he was standing on a ladder leaning through one of the stacks. Upon returning, her handed her a wand and said, "Try this one: willow and dragon heartstring, ten inches."
The butterflies started doing cartwheels but she did the first thing that came to her head, she waved it around. Nothing.
"Oh no, that won't do, try this one: Redwood and unicorn hair, seven and a half inches."
Orion waved it again, but before she had barely started he took it back, shaking his head and passed over another wand.
"Beech and phoenix feather, eight and quarter inches."
Once again she barely started to even move when he whipped it away, passing her another one.
And another.
And another.
After six, she began to wonder if she was doing something wrong. But still, he kept giving her wand, after wand. After wand. Remus came back in after about ten minutes, and was still looking in on the scene with, from what she could see, quiet amusement.
Still the wands kept coming. What was Mr. Ollivander looking for anyway?
"A fussy customer, eh?" he said after a while, "Never mind -I think I know which one now, you know, the wand chooses the wizard really, not the wizard who chooses the wand."
She nodded politely, thinking it would be nice to leave this rather small shop quickly.
He handed her another wand, "Try this one: yew and mahogany, phoenix feather, eleven and three quarter inches."
Orion felt a warm, almost electrical, sensation rush up her arm and back into the wand where sparks gushed from the tip.
"Ah yes. That's a very nice wand you have there, take care of it."
Mr. Ollivander went over to the till, "That will be six Galleons please."
Remus paid the man and they walked quickly out of the store.
"Bloody Hell, I think I must've tried every wand in the shop! Twice! Where did you go anyway?"
"To get us ice-creams." He produced two ice-creams from the hand he'd held behind his back.
"Thanks, I have got to know how you do that." She said, licking her ice-cream. "So where do we go now? I have everything else on the list."
"Now I take you to Hogwarts,"
"Portkey?"
"Portkey."
"Great. Don't you magic folk have an easier way to get around? Like cars? Bikes? Skateboards?" she moaned.
"No cars -we have Apparation, remember?"
"Oh yeah."
"And we have brooms, though they're only useful if you have one, maybe two people. In the Middle-East they use carpets, you know."
"Wicked! So where's the Portkey this time? Or what is it?"
"Here." Remus had led her to the alcoves again and revealed an old boot in the corner.
"Here I go again." Orion said placing her hand on the battered old thing, feeling the familiar sensation of having her naval pulled out a split second later.
*****
"Oh come on mate; that was only ten feet!"
"Let's see you do better then! Go on!" Harry challenged, watching as Ron grabbed a gnome (which are short, fat little things, with heads that looked remarkably like overgrown, grey potatoes) by its ears from the bushes, swung it around and tossed it over the fence, where it landed nearly thirty feet away.
"You were saying, Harry?"
"Oh shut up." But he was grinning, "Where's Ginny anyway? I haven't seen her since lunch."
"Don't know, she's probably doing her nails or reading a magazine in her room."
"You want to find out?" George wriggled his eyebrows, "We've got some Extendable Ears…"
"How'd they survive the purge?" asked Ron, incredulous.
"We hid them really well."
Harry had been at The Burrow for three days, and already he felt more at home than he ever had with the Dursleys at Privet Drive, although the first day he got there things had been a little, tense. The day before he arrived, Mrs. Weasley had discovered several of the twins' latest, successful, invention: Extendable Ears. Furious that they had carried on with their 'ridiculous' idea, she destroyed them in one angry flick of her wand.
Apparently, the twins were smart enough not to keep everything they made in one place.
They, however, were but sardines compared to Percy, who was an overgrown swordfish. From what Ron told him, when term finished and Percy spent a rare ten minutes at home, they had a family discussion about Voldemort, evidently Percy didn't agree, there was a huge fight and left home -he hadn't spoken to any of them since.
"Where?"
"That's our secret, little brother."
At Ron's frustrated look, Harry patted him on the back, "Don't worry, it's probably in their drawers or something."
"Boys! Hermione's here!" called Mrs. Weasley from somewhere in the Kitchen.
Sure enough, Hermione's bushy head burst through the door moments later.
"Ron! Harry!" she yelled, smiling from ear to ear, "I missed you two so much!" To prove this, she enveloped each in a tight hug.
"What -Hermione -get off -" Ron protested as the tips of his ears reddened, though he made no movements to stop her.
"Hi Hermione," said Harry, laughing, "So what've you been doing?"
"I went skiing with my parents in Austria for two weeks, but -Fred! What're you doing?"
She had just noticed him swinging a particularly loud gnome out of the garden.
"They're gnomes," he said, "and we're getting rid of them."
"Calm down!" said Ron, "It doesn't hurt them or anything; it makes them really dizzy though, so they can't find their way back right away. Or are you going to start another organisation? S.H.I.T? Stop Hurting Innocent Things? So you can protest about moving all pests?"
"Oh shut up, Ron." If she was hoping for any support from Harry, she was going to be sorely disappointed, as he was on the floor in fits of laughter with Fred and George.
The Weasley's garden was somewhat on the wild side, the type that the Dursleys detested and Harry loved; there were weeds the size of plants, grass that reached knee-length in places, bushes where gnomes lived that hadn't been trimmed or pruned for years, a hedgerow and fence blended together at the bottom of the garden, a small row of flowers had been planted at one point, but stopped being tended a good few years ago and since grown untamed in its own manner; growing in whichever directions they felt like and whatever speed. It was perfect.
"Harry, are you coming mate?"
"Wha? Yeah." Jogging to join them, they traversed the relatively small distance between the garden and The Burrow joking about S.H.I.T and how funny it would be if, by some freak accident, Fred or George was made Head Boy; they'd be devastated, maybe even suicidal.
Inside the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was cooking in the rather small kitchen, pointing her wand in every direction; potatoes were peeling (by themselves), dishes were being washed, and vegetables were transferring themselves from a bowl to a saucepan full of simmering water on the stove.
Mrs. Weasley was a plump, kind woman with a warm face, flaming red hair like all her children, and a temper like that of tiger.
"Hello dears, lunch will be ready in half an hour, so don't wander off." she said, not looking up from the bowl of mixture she was adding eggs too.
"Right, mum."
They wandered up the flights of crooked stairs to Ron's room; it looked just like it did when Harry first stepped inside four summers ago: the walls were covered in bright orange posters of the Chudley Cannons, all waving, all grinning excitedly, throwing Quaffles, pounding Bludgers, and even one of their Seeker chasing after the Snitch, his bedspread featured the same colours and the team logo: two black C's overlapping each other, though admittedly it did look like it had a few more holes than when he saw it last year, and that burnt patch hadn't been there either. Scabbers, whom hadn't been there since he revealed himself to be the traitor who betrayed Harry's parents; was now replaced instead by a cage containing a very active, very loud owl, called Pig.
"Heard anything from Snuffles?" Ron asked, closing the door with some difficulty.
Having known this would come sooner or later, didn't mean that he liked the answer, he sighed, sitting on a spare space on the bed, "Nothing."
"Not even one letter?" Hermione remarked,
"Nope."
They sat in silence, musing over what this could mean, was Sirius in trouble? Were the Ministry getting close? Were they on to him?
Ron stared at the floor, kicking idly at an owl treat that'd fallen there, Hermione pressed her nails to her cheeks, letting red marks show; finally she whispered, "I hope he's okay."
"Me too."
Harry stayed silent, and was saved from answering by Mrs. Weasleys call that lunch was ready.
As usual, she'd cooked enough food to feed an army of five thousand, which, in reality, equalled the eating capacity of everyone present, meaning Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and Harry.
"Eat up dears," she said, squeezing another plate of food onto the already packed table. "Do you want some more, Harry?"
"Yes please."
Mrs. Weasley passed him the bowl of mashed potatoes that had been just out of his reach before finally seating herself.
No one could miss her anxious glancing to the Weasley family clock, which she did every other minute, usually accompanied by the nervous clatter of either her knife or fork. Mr. Weasley had been spending a lot of time at work since the return of Voldemort, telling people who he thought were in the same mind as quietly and indiscreetly as possible. The problem was Cornelius Fudge, the bowler-hat-wearing Minister of Magic, was publicly and firmly opposing any sign or rumour that Voldemort was back, and was not opposed to stating to any one that would listen what he thought Dumbledore was a dangerous and lying fool who would do anything to gain power over the Ministry of Magic.
The sad thing was, a lot of people believed him.
Harry, Hermione, and all of the Weasley family save Percy, did not.
As they were all clearing the table, all except Ginny who disappeared to go to the toilet, the longest arrow on the clock, Mr. Weasleys arrow, whizzed from 'At Work' to 'Travelling', then, with a crack he appeared by the kitchen fire and his arrow zoomed to 'At Home'.
"Molly," he said, looking at his wife pointedly and then to the living room he turned to the other occupants of the kitchen, "Kids, go into the garden for a little while, would you? I need to talk to your mum for a minute."
Reluctantly, they filed out, Fred and George tailing behind talking in hushed voices. They joined the others a moment after, smug looks on their faces.
"Want to know what they're talking about?"
"Bet it's important." George said, an identical grin from ear to ear on his twins face, "We're going to listen -we planted some Extendable Ears just now…"
"Pass one here then,"
"Ron!"
"What? I want to know!"
"Me too, pass one over George."
"And me!"
Hermione, out-numbered five to one, gave in with a 'you should know better' frown, but agreed to take an Ear anyway.
"Fudge is making it exceptionally difficult," Mr. Weasley was saying, "If he suspects that anyone is spreading 'discontent and lies' he'll order an immediate investigation and fire them within a second, whatever the results of the investigation."
"That man is -"
"Close minded." He cut in hastily, "We're still doing the best we can, but now everyone will be scared of loosing their jobs.
We had to get Fletcher and tell him to stop completely, at least for the time being, because he's the least inconspicuous. Pulipcity is still diverting the search for Black, and no one suspects anything."
"Well that's good at least." Sighed Mrs. Weasley, "Do you think he will ever get a trial?"
"I don't know, Molly. He certainly won't at the moment, and not in the foreseeable future either, the way things are going, but they could change -you never know.
Now, I meant to ask earlier, but I got a little sidetracked, any word from Dumbledore about headquarters?"
The last word was spoken in barely a whisper, and all eavesdroppers had to strain their ears to hear the rest,
"Nothing, but the problem is finding a place and then setting up the right wards for it, it won't just be Muggles that it will have to be kept secret from; but I was wondering, what about from Remus'?"
"Thanks to the latest law passed on werewolves and half-humans, his house is registered with the Ministry."
"That's ridiculous!"
"I know."
Harry stared at Ron, "You don't think?"
"They couldn't -"
"What?"
"Last year when," Harry paused, "when I was talking to Dumbledore, he told Sirius to get all of the 'old crowd', and he said something about Mundungus Fletcher -that's got to be the one your dad was talking about."
"How come they didn't tell us?" Ron was outraged, glaring at the house where his parents were still talking.
"Probably because it's dangerous." Hermione said carefully.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
C'mon folks, i do love reading reviews, even flames! Flames are good! They make me laugh! Constructive critism is better, because it helps me improve my writing! So, review and, and, and, well i'll write quicker **winks**
ANYWAY, I would like it very much if you DID review **nods**
--Lani
Author: Lani
E-Mail: lanirhys@aol.com
Authors Notes: Has only one person read this? **pouts** Ah well, this chapter is pretty long but i had to get a lot in.... stick with it guys! it HAS a plot, you just have to bear with me!
Review Response:
Lady Jen1: wow! your review actually made my day! i'm SO happy you like it, i was hyper for hours! and you think my writings good? **is caught between blushing and jumping up and down**, well here's chapter two for you! i'm gonna go and read yours now, 'cause i've commandeered the computer **grins manically**
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Chapter Two
But I know I muat go on
Although I hurt I must be strong
because inside I know that many
feel this way
Don't Stop Dancing, Creed
I saw the next door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers, before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.
Foreign Lands, R.L. Stevenson
*****
The man had light-brown hair flecked with early grey, was dressed in a pair of blue jeans that looked like he'd worn them a few hundred times too many, a t-shirt and jacket.
"Hello," he said extending a hand towards her in greeting, a faint smile gracing his lips, "You must be Orion."
"Hi, you must be… the person from the letter?" Orion said awkwardly, shaking the mans offered hand hesitantly, "Are you really gonna take me to get all this," she gestured wildly to the parchment, "stuff?"
"Yes, I would." he smiled faintly, "My name's Remus Lupin."
At that moment, the kitchen door swung open and Cecilia strode through, duster and polish in hand, wearing a frown.
"Who's this, Orion?"
"Uh," she shuffled her feet, "Cecilia this is Remus Lupin, Mr. Lupin, this is Cecilia Williams…" trailing off she stared at the wall behind Cecilia's head.
"And?"
"Well…uh… sales, no… uh… je -no… he's a, no…"
When no further answer was forthcoming, and Cecilia's eyebrows had managed to knit together, Remus cleared his throat.
"I'm here to take Orion to get her things -like it says in the letter?"
Orion's eyes widened comically, her mouth dropping to silently form 'no' and 'oh damn' simultaneously, whilst Cecilia, on the other hand, lost her eyebrows into her highlighted hairline and fixed an accusing glare on to Orion,
"What letter?" the question was directed at Remus, but Orion fielded it instead.
"I got a letter yesterday, it says that somebody would come and pick me up today to get stuff."
"And where is this letter?"
Reluctance showing in every motion, she passed the letter to her.
As Cecilia took the sheets and proceeded to read them, Remus faced the teen with his own eyebrows quirked in the sky's direction. Before he could say anything though, Cecilia ordered them to the kitchen in a very tight voice, and, for some reason, Remus let himself be ushered into the room too.
Orion gulped -she hadn't looked happy, and was probably on her way to find Richard now.
The kitchen door closed with a definitive 'click', and the sounds of Cecilia's heeled feet on the wooden floor echoed as she walked away.
"Why didn't you tell them about the letter?" he asked, perplexed, "I know they're not your parents, but you should have."
"You can sit down if you want," she said, hoisting herself onto the kitchen counter, "I haven't had time to booby-trap the chairs yet and they could still be awhile."
He sat down at the kitchen table, casting a wary glance over the table and chairs before finally speaking after staring out the window behind her,
"You didn't answer my question."
"I know."
"Why didn't you tell them?"
"Because it would've been a one-way trip to grounded-dom, that's why. The Williams don't like anything abnormal, and, I'm sorry Mr. Lupin, but a letter from a school that teaches witchcraft and wizardry under a headmaster who's a supreme mugwump isn't exactly common occurrence."
"Ah."
"Indeedy." Silence fell for a moment, each wrapped in their own thoughts, although Orion's were entering chaotic in their confusion and excitement, bubbling over with questions and trying to keep up with the whirlwind of happenings of the last day: here was a man, waiting in their new kitchen, to hear the outcome of Cecilia and Richard's probable decision, to hopefully take her to a school to learn witchcraft and wizardry.
Everything was topsy-turvy, inside out and upside down, but that didn't mean it was a bad thing -this could be mean her final days with the Williams, and more importantly, Joshua.
Finally, when she could take it no longer, she sighed loudly and asked, "Is this all some big joke?"
"No, it's very real." Then Remus looked at the window again, like he was considering whether or not to tell her something, "In-fact, there's a boy next door, at number four, who goes to Hogwarts too."
Orion racked her memory, trying to think of the boy's next door. As far as she knew, there was only one boy next-door, fat-whale Dudley. "The fat one? Ugly Dudley?"
"There's another that lives there too, Dudley's cousin, Harry -he isn't anywhere near as, large, as Dudley, he's more towards the skinny side actually, has black hair? Glasses?"
She shook her head, "Never seen him."
Remus nodded his head, it wasn't surprising -the Dursleys had never been fond of Harry, and it was certainly not unusual to know the Dursleys and not Harry. From what he had gathered, they preferred to act as if Harry didn't exist.
"Can I ask another question?"
"Go ahead."
"If term starts in September, why am I going to Hogwarts now?"
He frowned, "I'm not sure."
Orion pulled a face, she got the feeling he was lying, but if it meant there was a possibility she wouldn't be at the William's for over a month, who was she to call him on it?
"What about all this stuff I have to get? They sound like things out of Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and I don't think they sell that Standard Book of Spells by Frog Newtron, or whatever, at WHSmith, y'know."
"No, I don't suppose you could," he chuckled, "If you know where to go though, you could get all of those things in London."
"Oh, okay, but London isn't exactly just 'round the corner." she paused, then, "but, one more question and I'll be quiet for three minutes," she carried on in a rush, "how much is this gonna cost me? I don't mean to sound rude or anything, it's just that I don't exactly get a luxury allowance…"
"That's all been covered, so you don't need to worry about money."
Orion stared at him for a moment, it was easy for him to say; he was an adult: he could get a job, whereas the Williams forbid her from even getting a paper-round. Who'd covered the payment for all of these things? It wasn't like she had any loving relatives, unless there was a great-great-great aunt twice removed, and from the sounds of most of the items, none of it would come cheap!
"Don't suppose you know who?" she asked, hopeful.
Predictably, he shook his head, "Sorry."
Half an hour later, which was a lot quicker that she thought they would take to decide the rest of her life, Richard and Cecilia entered the kitchen; Orion jumped off the counter before they could say anything.
"We have decided that," Richard placed the latter on the table like it was radioactive, her heart skipped a beat, "you can go."
It took all of her self-control to stop from jumping into the air. "But," Damn, she thought, there's always a but.
"We won't foster a freak: you'll have to go to the orphanage whenever you're not going to be at that school."
In the corner of her eye Orion swore she saw Remus tighten his grip on the counter when Richard said 'freak', but she shook it off. It had actually gone a lot better than she expected -at least she was allowed to go, and staying at the orphanage wouldn't be so bad.
The ultimatum, however, he had yet to say.
"We want your stuff out by the end of the day, and don't even think of going near Joshua."
"Can you do that?" she said automatically.
"Yes, we can. I phoned your social workers and the orphanage to tell them that we couldn't foster you any more, because we just couldn't handle your behaviour any longer and it was disturbing our son. Don't worry -I did inform them that we had been kind enough to find you a boarding school, so you would only need to stay there during holidays and perhaps weekends -we hadn't cleared that up yet." A sick smile twisted his face, contorting his face in a manner scarily reminiscent of something sadistic.
What did he mean? Couldn't handle her behaviour? Disturbing Joshua -it was more like the other way around: Joshua's behaviour disturbed her! "Why you -"
"I don't think that was a very nice thing to do," Remus stepped in, "however, it is your conscience not mine. As to weekends, students stay at the school, but during the holidays they have the option of either staying at school, without lessons, or going home; the only holiday they can't stay at the school is during the summer holidays.
"In regards to the 'end of the day' deadline, that will do nicely. Now, may we get Orion's things? I wouldn't want to put you out."
Remus may have been an inch shorter than Richard, but he certainly knew how to use his words, because they stepped aside, too shocked for words.
"Thanks," Orion managed, pushing open what would've been her bedroom door, grasping the letter in her hand, she'd grabbed it just before leaving, "that was cool, what you just did I mean." She paused for breath, "Do I call you Mr. Lupin or Remus, or there's the ever cool: The-Guy-Who-Shocked-Richard-Into-Silence?"
He smiled, "Just call me Remus, and it wasn't a problem, and I didn't like what he said anymore than you did. Now, have you got a bag? It'd probably be easier to carry than a box." he eyed the two boxes sitting in the corner.
"Yeah, I'll only take a minute to pack, so no running." She reached into the nearest box and pulled out a faded blue backpack and proceeded to the next, pulling out a small amount of clothes after a minute of rummaging, and shoved them into her bag.
"There, now if you'll just turn around or close your eyes, I'll be done." At his curious gaze she added, "Underwear?"
"Oh!" His face went a little pink but he promptly turned to face the other way.
Orion pushed her diary and hair things into a side pocket, "Done."
"Already?" Remus opened his eyes to stare at her, astonishment written clearly on his face.
"Yeah… how long did you think it'd take?" Slinging the bag over one shoulder she grinned at him.
"I'm not sure, longer than that." He looked around the room; it didn't look any different to when he stepped in not three minutes before, "Ready?"
"I think so." Orion went through a mental checklist: TedTed, Pafoo, diary, box and life savings: check. "Yeah."
They turned to the bedroom door, but she stopped and looked at him quizzically, realising that everything was moving significantly fast enough to be disturbing.
"How do I know you aren't some hired assassin working for my physics teacher so that he'll never have to teach me again?"
Remus laughed, "I guess you don't at the moment, would you like me to prove it? That there really is magic?"
No doubt about it. "Yes."
"All right." He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a stick, not a black one with white cylinders on the end, just a wooden stick. "This," he said, "is a wand, my wand. It's made from redwood and has a unicorn's hair inside of it." He explained, passing it to her, Orion took it hesitantly and turned it over in her hands, realising that it wasn't just a stick fallen from a tree, rather it had actually been carved, so well in fact, that it was perfectly smooth; she handed it back to him and he pointed it at a pillow that'd been thrown hastily onto the bed earlier. "Watch this," he held the wand in the air, "Accio pillow!"
To her utter amazement the pillow flew from the bed to his outstretched hand. "Convinced?"
"Definitely." Still staring at the pillow she continued, "Will I learn how to do that?"
"Yes, and more, and the sooner we leave the sooner you can get to Hogwarts."
Somehow, she managed to get down the stairs and out of the door without looking back and all the way down to the next street before jumping into the air and screaming.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, it's just, YES!" she skipped mid air to emphasise her point, "So how're we getting to Hogwarts?"
"You'll see in a minute, down here." He led her into a small alleyway, "Don't touch any newspapers."
"Why?"
"You'll see in a minute." He repeated, as they walked by a row of dustbins and stopped at the last one, which had what looked like yesterdays newspaper on top.
He indicated to it, "This newspaper has been set up as a one-way one-time Portkey, a Portkey," he added at her confused gaze, "is something that we can set up to take people just about anywhere. On three, I want you to touch the newspaper, then you'll feel like something is pulling you, and then you'll end up in a street -that'll be Diagon Alley."
"So this'll only work once? It was only set up to work once?"
"That's right."
"So how'd you get here?"
"Hmm," said Remus, "you're smarter than you look."
She smirked, "Thanks, but don't get too used to it."
"Okay, if you say so." He said, "I Apparated here, at seventeen you can take a test to Apparate. Apparation is the ability to leave one place and appear in another."
"Really?" she asked, disbelievingly.
Crack! He was standing on her right, "Really."
"Wicked."
"Ready?" Orion nodded, her stomach suddenly got butterflies: what if it didn't work? "One," What if it went wrong? "Two," The butterflies started doing somersaults, badly. "Three." She and Remus touched the newspaper and a pulling from behind her navel was uncomfortably prominent, but before she could throw-up she was on the floor in an alcove on a street. It seemed she had fallen over at one point.
"That was, weird?" she said as Remus helped her up.
"Everyone falls over on their first few trips by Portkey. Now this," he bought her to look at a gleaming white building visible from the edge of the alcove, "is Gringotts -the Wizard Bank."
"Whoah."
"And that is the rest of Diagon Alley." He gestured to the busy street onto which the bay opened. Shops were packed tightly along the sides of the cobbled street, with names like Quality Quidditch, Flourish and Blotts and Eelops Owl Emporium to name but a few. "Now, according to your list you need some books, so you'll want the best and most stocked bookstore I've ever been to: Flourish and Blotts."
"How many bookstores have you been to?"
Remus walked out, "Quite a few. Orion I want you to stay close and not wander off, okay?"
"Um, Remus?" She struggled to keep up as he wound through the numerous bodies, but her heard her and turned around, "I don't mean to sound stupid, but why's everyone wearing funny clothes? They look like robes!"
"That's because they are -wizards wear robes and cloaks as normal clothes, though most children and students do wear Muggle clothes when they're not at school."
"Oh… what's a Muggle?"
"People who aren't magic, like the Williams." said Remus absently.
"Right," she paused, thinking that this wouldn't be the first or last time she'd discover things like that, "One more thing,"
"What?"
"I know you said it was covered, but how am I going to pay for everything?"
As he answered and pulled her into the shop, she caught something in his eye, but it was gone before she could identify it.
"Your parents were magic too, and they left you money for when you would come to Hogwarts."
"Cool!" Her heart skipped a beat; did that mean he'd known them? "Did you know my mum and dad?"
"Not really," he answered, "I knew of them though, they were nice people." The feeling of being lied to crept into her again, because Remus wouldn't meet her eyes and was purposely looking away. She didn't have time to dwell on the thought any longer, however, as she had finally looked around at her surroundings.
Every wall was lined from ceiling to floor with shelf upon shelf of books ranging in sizes, shapes, colours, and apparently species too, because there was a cage full of books on a stand that had silver wings, and were flapping about.
While Remus led her to the counter where a man stood, Orion couldn't stop staring at them all: there was a stack of books so small she was amazed that people could even write in it, let alone read whatever was written, one slate sized book that looked like it was made of pure gold and a dark black one that looked like it was splashed with blood, entitled 'How to rid yourself of enemies, for good' by Ruth Less.
Remus handed the man the list,
"Could we have these please?"
"Of course."
Ten minutes later and Orion left the store weighted down with all of her books, and a new level of confusion; the money was extremely weird.
"What's the deal with the money? I'm sure he said Galleons and Knuts?"
"It's wizard money: Galleons, which are gold, Sickles, they're the silver ones, and Knuts, which are bronze." He showed her one of each, "We use these where Muggles would use their pounds and pence, it's easy to remember once you get used to it; there's twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle and seventeen Sickles to a Galleon."
"Right," Orion nodded, "but wouldn't it be easier to use tens and hundreds?"
"Probably." he said, "So what else is on your list?"
The man behind the counter had given the list back to her after he'd collected all of the books, so she fished it out again and picked a items at random for them to find by waving her finger over the it and jabbing it down randomly.
Two hours later and Orion had everything: robes, books, a cauldron, potion ingredients… everything except a wand.
"Where're we going to get a wand from?"
Remus pointed to a rather rickety looking store in front of them, "The best wandmaker here: Ollivanders." Painted black all over, and dust-covered windows were the first impression, and even they looked old. On a board across the door there was faded, peeling golden writing that read:
Orion stepped inside, a bell rang faintly somewhere but she was too fascinated by all the stacks upon stacks behind the counter to listen where: every stack was filled with row upon row of little boxes; the air itself was musty with age and hanging in silence. Remus, who stood beside her said, "This was I got my first wand too, it still looks exactly the same."
Orion was about to respond that hadn't they ever even ran a duster over it, but a very old looking man came from seemingly nowhere and said,
"Well hello, I haven't seen you before," he paused, "and you're not a First Year."
She felt her stomach jolt, what did that mean? How many years were there?
"I'm fourteen."
"Ah, going into your fifth year after the summer then?"
Fifth year? What was going on? Remus definitely had some explaining to do.
Then, he got himself further into her now-just-this-minute-written 'bad books' because, instead of saying something to justify whatever the old man, who was presumably Mr. Ollivander, had just dropped on her, he said, "I'll be back soon."
And he left, before she could protest.
Mr. Ollivander carried on, regardless of her rising panic. "Now, which is your wand arm?"
"Uh," The butterflies were back and it felt like they were having a party.
"Which hand do you write with?"
Why didn't he just say that? "Oh, left."
"Hold out your arm please."
Orion held out her arm and the Mr. Ollivander, whose eyes looked remarkably silver she noted, started taking measurements from her shoulder thumb, her elbow to her wrist, between each of her fingers, the length of her middle finger, elbow to little finger, shoulder to palm… it was when it measured from her ear to her eye that she realised that the tape-measure was doing it without aide, and he was standing on a ladder leaning through one of the stacks. Upon returning, her handed her a wand and said, "Try this one: willow and dragon heartstring, ten inches."
The butterflies started doing cartwheels but she did the first thing that came to her head, she waved it around. Nothing.
"Oh no, that won't do, try this one: Redwood and unicorn hair, seven and a half inches."
Orion waved it again, but before she had barely started he took it back, shaking his head and passed over another wand.
"Beech and phoenix feather, eight and quarter inches."
Once again she barely started to even move when he whipped it away, passing her another one.
And another.
And another.
After six, she began to wonder if she was doing something wrong. But still, he kept giving her wand, after wand. After wand. Remus came back in after about ten minutes, and was still looking in on the scene with, from what she could see, quiet amusement.
Still the wands kept coming. What was Mr. Ollivander looking for anyway?
"A fussy customer, eh?" he said after a while, "Never mind -I think I know which one now, you know, the wand chooses the wizard really, not the wizard who chooses the wand."
She nodded politely, thinking it would be nice to leave this rather small shop quickly.
He handed her another wand, "Try this one: yew and mahogany, phoenix feather, eleven and three quarter inches."
Orion felt a warm, almost electrical, sensation rush up her arm and back into the wand where sparks gushed from the tip.
"Ah yes. That's a very nice wand you have there, take care of it."
Mr. Ollivander went over to the till, "That will be six Galleons please."
Remus paid the man and they walked quickly out of the store.
"Bloody Hell, I think I must've tried every wand in the shop! Twice! Where did you go anyway?"
"To get us ice-creams." He produced two ice-creams from the hand he'd held behind his back.
"Thanks, I have got to know how you do that." She said, licking her ice-cream. "So where do we go now? I have everything else on the list."
"Now I take you to Hogwarts,"
"Portkey?"
"Portkey."
"Great. Don't you magic folk have an easier way to get around? Like cars? Bikes? Skateboards?" she moaned.
"No cars -we have Apparation, remember?"
"Oh yeah."
"And we have brooms, though they're only useful if you have one, maybe two people. In the Middle-East they use carpets, you know."
"Wicked! So where's the Portkey this time? Or what is it?"
"Here." Remus had led her to the alcoves again and revealed an old boot in the corner.
"Here I go again." Orion said placing her hand on the battered old thing, feeling the familiar sensation of having her naval pulled out a split second later.
*****
"Oh come on mate; that was only ten feet!"
"Let's see you do better then! Go on!" Harry challenged, watching as Ron grabbed a gnome (which are short, fat little things, with heads that looked remarkably like overgrown, grey potatoes) by its ears from the bushes, swung it around and tossed it over the fence, where it landed nearly thirty feet away.
"You were saying, Harry?"
"Oh shut up." But he was grinning, "Where's Ginny anyway? I haven't seen her since lunch."
"Don't know, she's probably doing her nails or reading a magazine in her room."
"You want to find out?" George wriggled his eyebrows, "We've got some Extendable Ears…"
"How'd they survive the purge?" asked Ron, incredulous.
"We hid them really well."
Harry had been at The Burrow for three days, and already he felt more at home than he ever had with the Dursleys at Privet Drive, although the first day he got there things had been a little, tense. The day before he arrived, Mrs. Weasley had discovered several of the twins' latest, successful, invention: Extendable Ears. Furious that they had carried on with their 'ridiculous' idea, she destroyed them in one angry flick of her wand.
Apparently, the twins were smart enough not to keep everything they made in one place.
They, however, were but sardines compared to Percy, who was an overgrown swordfish. From what Ron told him, when term finished and Percy spent a rare ten minutes at home, they had a family discussion about Voldemort, evidently Percy didn't agree, there was a huge fight and left home -he hadn't spoken to any of them since.
"Where?"
"That's our secret, little brother."
At Ron's frustrated look, Harry patted him on the back, "Don't worry, it's probably in their drawers or something."
"Boys! Hermione's here!" called Mrs. Weasley from somewhere in the Kitchen.
Sure enough, Hermione's bushy head burst through the door moments later.
"Ron! Harry!" she yelled, smiling from ear to ear, "I missed you two so much!" To prove this, she enveloped each in a tight hug.
"What -Hermione -get off -" Ron protested as the tips of his ears reddened, though he made no movements to stop her.
"Hi Hermione," said Harry, laughing, "So what've you been doing?"
"I went skiing with my parents in Austria for two weeks, but -Fred! What're you doing?"
She had just noticed him swinging a particularly loud gnome out of the garden.
"They're gnomes," he said, "and we're getting rid of them."
"Calm down!" said Ron, "It doesn't hurt them or anything; it makes them really dizzy though, so they can't find their way back right away. Or are you going to start another organisation? S.H.I.T? Stop Hurting Innocent Things? So you can protest about moving all pests?"
"Oh shut up, Ron." If she was hoping for any support from Harry, she was going to be sorely disappointed, as he was on the floor in fits of laughter with Fred and George.
The Weasley's garden was somewhat on the wild side, the type that the Dursleys detested and Harry loved; there were weeds the size of plants, grass that reached knee-length in places, bushes where gnomes lived that hadn't been trimmed or pruned for years, a hedgerow and fence blended together at the bottom of the garden, a small row of flowers had been planted at one point, but stopped being tended a good few years ago and since grown untamed in its own manner; growing in whichever directions they felt like and whatever speed. It was perfect.
"Harry, are you coming mate?"
"Wha? Yeah." Jogging to join them, they traversed the relatively small distance between the garden and The Burrow joking about S.H.I.T and how funny it would be if, by some freak accident, Fred or George was made Head Boy; they'd be devastated, maybe even suicidal.
Inside the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was cooking in the rather small kitchen, pointing her wand in every direction; potatoes were peeling (by themselves), dishes were being washed, and vegetables were transferring themselves from a bowl to a saucepan full of simmering water on the stove.
Mrs. Weasley was a plump, kind woman with a warm face, flaming red hair like all her children, and a temper like that of tiger.
"Hello dears, lunch will be ready in half an hour, so don't wander off." she said, not looking up from the bowl of mixture she was adding eggs too.
"Right, mum."
They wandered up the flights of crooked stairs to Ron's room; it looked just like it did when Harry first stepped inside four summers ago: the walls were covered in bright orange posters of the Chudley Cannons, all waving, all grinning excitedly, throwing Quaffles, pounding Bludgers, and even one of their Seeker chasing after the Snitch, his bedspread featured the same colours and the team logo: two black C's overlapping each other, though admittedly it did look like it had a few more holes than when he saw it last year, and that burnt patch hadn't been there either. Scabbers, whom hadn't been there since he revealed himself to be the traitor who betrayed Harry's parents; was now replaced instead by a cage containing a very active, very loud owl, called Pig.
"Heard anything from Snuffles?" Ron asked, closing the door with some difficulty.
Having known this would come sooner or later, didn't mean that he liked the answer, he sighed, sitting on a spare space on the bed, "Nothing."
"Not even one letter?" Hermione remarked,
"Nope."
They sat in silence, musing over what this could mean, was Sirius in trouble? Were the Ministry getting close? Were they on to him?
Ron stared at the floor, kicking idly at an owl treat that'd fallen there, Hermione pressed her nails to her cheeks, letting red marks show; finally she whispered, "I hope he's okay."
"Me too."
Harry stayed silent, and was saved from answering by Mrs. Weasleys call that lunch was ready.
As usual, she'd cooked enough food to feed an army of five thousand, which, in reality, equalled the eating capacity of everyone present, meaning Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and Harry.
"Eat up dears," she said, squeezing another plate of food onto the already packed table. "Do you want some more, Harry?"
"Yes please."
Mrs. Weasley passed him the bowl of mashed potatoes that had been just out of his reach before finally seating herself.
No one could miss her anxious glancing to the Weasley family clock, which she did every other minute, usually accompanied by the nervous clatter of either her knife or fork. Mr. Weasley had been spending a lot of time at work since the return of Voldemort, telling people who he thought were in the same mind as quietly and indiscreetly as possible. The problem was Cornelius Fudge, the bowler-hat-wearing Minister of Magic, was publicly and firmly opposing any sign or rumour that Voldemort was back, and was not opposed to stating to any one that would listen what he thought Dumbledore was a dangerous and lying fool who would do anything to gain power over the Ministry of Magic.
The sad thing was, a lot of people believed him.
Harry, Hermione, and all of the Weasley family save Percy, did not.
As they were all clearing the table, all except Ginny who disappeared to go to the toilet, the longest arrow on the clock, Mr. Weasleys arrow, whizzed from 'At Work' to 'Travelling', then, with a crack he appeared by the kitchen fire and his arrow zoomed to 'At Home'.
"Molly," he said, looking at his wife pointedly and then to the living room he turned to the other occupants of the kitchen, "Kids, go into the garden for a little while, would you? I need to talk to your mum for a minute."
Reluctantly, they filed out, Fred and George tailing behind talking in hushed voices. They joined the others a moment after, smug looks on their faces.
"Want to know what they're talking about?"
"Bet it's important." George said, an identical grin from ear to ear on his twins face, "We're going to listen -we planted some Extendable Ears just now…"
"Pass one here then,"
"Ron!"
"What? I want to know!"
"Me too, pass one over George."
"And me!"
Hermione, out-numbered five to one, gave in with a 'you should know better' frown, but agreed to take an Ear anyway.
"Fudge is making it exceptionally difficult," Mr. Weasley was saying, "If he suspects that anyone is spreading 'discontent and lies' he'll order an immediate investigation and fire them within a second, whatever the results of the investigation."
"That man is -"
"Close minded." He cut in hastily, "We're still doing the best we can, but now everyone will be scared of loosing their jobs.
We had to get Fletcher and tell him to stop completely, at least for the time being, because he's the least inconspicuous. Pulipcity is still diverting the search for Black, and no one suspects anything."
"Well that's good at least." Sighed Mrs. Weasley, "Do you think he will ever get a trial?"
"I don't know, Molly. He certainly won't at the moment, and not in the foreseeable future either, the way things are going, but they could change -you never know.
Now, I meant to ask earlier, but I got a little sidetracked, any word from Dumbledore about headquarters?"
The last word was spoken in barely a whisper, and all eavesdroppers had to strain their ears to hear the rest,
"Nothing, but the problem is finding a place and then setting up the right wards for it, it won't just be Muggles that it will have to be kept secret from; but I was wondering, what about from Remus'?"
"Thanks to the latest law passed on werewolves and half-humans, his house is registered with the Ministry."
"That's ridiculous!"
"I know."
Harry stared at Ron, "You don't think?"
"They couldn't -"
"What?"
"Last year when," Harry paused, "when I was talking to Dumbledore, he told Sirius to get all of the 'old crowd', and he said something about Mundungus Fletcher -that's got to be the one your dad was talking about."
"How come they didn't tell us?" Ron was outraged, glaring at the house where his parents were still talking.
"Probably because it's dangerous." Hermione said carefully.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
C'mon folks, i do love reading reviews, even flames! Flames are good! They make me laugh! Constructive critism is better, because it helps me improve my writing! So, review and, and, and, well i'll write quicker **winks**
ANYWAY, I would like it very much if you DID review **nods**
--Lani