Tension was running high in the circle of Death Eaters. A small number of them had been specially summoned to perform some secret task for the Dark Lord. It was many years now since they had been asked to undertake an organized 'hit' in this way. The very air seemed to shiver with excitement as they waited to be informed of their target.
They flung themselves forward as the Dark Lord himself approached.
"Master…." A low moan ran around the circle.
Lord Voldemort considered them. His Death Eaters, a number of them recently liberated from Azkaban by his own forces, were practically frothing at the mouth with anticipation. His mouth stretched into his lipless smile.
How thrilled, how ecstatic, they would be when he told them what he wanted them to do that evening.
To the world at large, this would be merely a skirmish: a teaser, a taster of what might follow. It would also, he hoped, distract attention from his real current purposes and activities, which those fools at the Ministry had no idea about. Nothing, nothing was more important to him at the present time than his quest for the Amulet. And with luck, this scheme would remove one particular obstacle to his aspirations in that direction on a permanent basis.
He had taken care to ensure it would seem like a relatively small-scale and isolated incident, one that could still simply be the work of renegade wizards from the last war and would not attract wide-scale panic. Just enough to keep the Ministry occupied... He wasn't ready yet for a full offensive against the wizarding world. His plans for that were still maturing.
Voldemort's long fingers stroked his chin. Nevertheless . . . he rather thought the events of the evening would make a certain point to those who might still be wavering in the decision as to where their true loyalties lay. He smiled again.
For a dizzy moment Harry lay slumped on the floor. Then firm hands grasped him under his arms and hauled. A moment later, Harry's trunk fell heavily on the spot which Harry had just vacated. On top of that, Tonks, Lupin, Mad-Eye and Bill all tumbled out.
Harry sat up and straightened his glasses. They had already begun to steam up. A number of concoctions with appetising aromas were simmering on the stove. Mrs Weasley beamed down at him warmly.
"Harry, dear! How lovely to see you ! But goodness me, just look at you! You must go and change your clothes at once!"
Harry realized, with a start, that he was still soaked to the skin and freezing cold from washing Uncle Vernon's car on a wet winter's evening. It had all happened so fast…really, it was only a little while since he had been wearily wiping away at the car's windscreen….
"Right, Harry," Tonks said briskly, after exchanging greetings with Mrs Weasley. "Be seeing you!"
"No honestly, Molly, we really can't stay to dinner," Lupin added in response to Mrs Weasley's query. He exchanged furtive glances with Mad-Eye and Tonks. "We have –er – things to do."
They lifted their hands in farewell, then Disapparated. Harry blinked. That had been…well, sort of abrupt! He wondered what it was they had to get back to so urgently.
"All right there, Harry?" Bill asked him cheerfully, levitating the trunk in front of him. "Yes, OK, Mum, don't fuss, I'll take this upstairs now and Harry can get into some dry clothes."
Harry was sharing Ron's bedroom again. Ron was nowhere to be seen, but Harry looked around affectionately at the posters of Ron's favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, which still plastered the walls in their vibrant orange robes; the tank on the window-sill, now empty, but once filled with frogspawn and subsequently a rather large frog; and the various comics scattered carelessly across the floor. Mrs Weasley had made no attempt to tidy up (probably experience had resigned her to the uselessness of such activity), but had simply moved an extra bed in for Harry's benefit.
It was so good to be back at the Burrow. It was homely in a way the spotless Dursley house could never hope to be. Harry was still consumed with curiosity about his hasty relocation, but nevertheless his dominant feeling was simply one of deep satisfaction to be here. The Weasley family had adopted him as their own several years ago, and it always awed Harry to be part of that close, squabbling network. It was so different from any family experience Harry had ever had. Even with Sirius…Harry firmly closed down that avenue of thought.
Warm and dry, Harry made his way downstairs. For the first time, as he passed through the hall, one photograph on the wall caught his notice. He paused and examined it.
The photo was of two young men and a woman, all waving merrily with broad smiles. The two men, hardly more than boys really, looked very pleased with life. The woman stood between them, and they each had an arm around her shoulders. From the resemblance between all three, Harry guessed it was a family photo – probably of brothers and a sister. He looked closer. The woman looked very familiar – surely, this was Mrs Weasley in fact? A younger, more carefree Mrs Weasley with the same warm smile? More strangely, Harry was also convinced he had seen the two young men who might be her brothers before as well. He frowned slightly..ah yes..Harry's eyes widened. He did recognize the two young men. He had last seen them waving out of a photo Mad-Eye Moody had shown him: one depicting the first Order of the Phoenix.
"Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes…budge along, budge along," Mad-Eye's voice said in his memory.
Shaken, Harry continued slowly down the hall. He could hear a babble of voices coming from the kitchen, so he headed in that direction. As soon as he appeared in the doorway, he was mobbed by enthusiastic Weasleys, who all looked breathless, pink-cheeked and windswept.
"Harry, mate!" Ron slapped his shoulder. "Sorry I wasn't here when you arrived. We've all been Christmas shopping."
"Welcome back," said Fred, with a mock bow.
"Been a while," said George. Judging from their new, smart clothes, Harry guessed that Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was still doing very well.
"Hello, Harry." Ginny smiled at him. Her eyes were very bright.
Harry grinned back at all of them and allowed himself to be pulled to the kitchen table. Percy and Mr Weasley, he gathered, were still at the Ministry. Charlie hadn't got back from London yet.
"So what's going on?" Fred asked.
"Yeah…" said Ron. "Bill, why is Harry here when we didn't know he was coming?"
Ron's older brother leaned back against the wall, one ankle hooked around the other. His fang earring gleamed in the soft lighting.
"No go, Ron," he drawled. "Dumbledore asked some of us to fetch Harry here immediately under close guard. We did. That' s all you need to know."
Harry felt annoyance rising within him. He had thought he and Dumbledore had moved beyond this. He was so fed up of always being kept in the dark.
Bill was watching him with a faintly amused look on his face.
"Don't hex me, Harry!" he said lightly. "Anyway, Dumbledore's coming round later. He said you might be a bit – er – irritated until you know the score."
"Albus is coming here?" Mrs Weasley put in, startled.
"Yeah. Says he has things to discuss." Bill glanced over at the younger Weasleys and Harry and looked meaningfully at his mother.
"Oh…!"
Harry could only hope that Dumbledore intended to discuss those things with him, too. Because he was absolutely determined he was going to get the whole story this time round.
He managed to push all that to one side, however. Here he was, engulfed in all the warmth and banter of a family Christmas for the first time he ever remembered. He let himself relax into it. The Burrow had already been decked out with all sorts of festive items. Harry wondered whether Fred and George had been involved in the decorating. If so, he reckoned they would all be in for some surprises on Christmas day…He smiled when he imagined Mrs Weasley's probable reaction to exploding fairy lights or ever-sozzled santas.
It was also the first time in days that he had sat down to a decent meal. It would be untrue to say the Dursleys starved him. However, he only got the barest minimum on which to survive. Even the leftovers were denied to him: Dudley wasn't allowed to eat them, on the instructions of the school nurse, which of course meant Harry couldn't either.
So Harry was tucking in with enjoyment. He didn't say very much, but listened happily to the loud and bickering conversations going on around him.
It was part way through the second course when he was suddenly hit by a sense of foreboding.
He had never felt anything quite like this before. His scar tingled. It didn't hurt, as it did in his most intense experiences of Voldemort. Nevertheless.. it felt…well, odd. Harry had a horrible feeling that something was going to happen.
"Harry! " began Fred, as he launched into some joke. "Did you hear the one about the grindylow who –"
Harry shook his head weakly, signalling that he didn't know the punchline. Unease wormed in his belly. Something was wrong.
It was around this point that shouting began to penetrate the din at the table. One by one, the Weasleys gradually fell silent. They turned towards the fire, mouths open in shock.
Kingsley Shacklebolt's bald black head was sitting in the fire, staring wildly around.
"MOLLY! MOLLY!" he was yelling. His voice, normally slow and deep, was filled with urgency and alarm.
Mrs Weasley hurried over. "What..? Is it Arthur? Percy..?" She sounded frightened.
"No time," Kingsley rapped out. "You have to get out, all of you. Don't ask, don't argue, just do it. GET OUT! Straight away.There's a traitor… DAMN – "
And Kingsley's head disappeared.
But Bill and Mrs Weasley were already moving.
