Chapter Two
Lupin's Secret
Harry's best friend Ron Weasley was the youngest brother in a family of six boys—and five of those six boys were now wreaking havoc on Sirius' house. They all ran into the front hall from every possible entrance, shooting each other with blue goo. Harry's other best friend, Muggle-born Hermione Granger, and Ron's only sister, Ginny, appeared at the second-story landing and were watching the boys, half-amused. Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, appeared to be testing out new products from their joke shop, which they'd opened recently. The toys looked like Muggle water guns, but instead of dispensing water, the Weasley boys were shooting each other with a gooey blue liquid that appeared to render anything it touched paralyzed. Bill Weasley's left arm was hanging limp at his side, while Ron's face had gone slack. Hermione and Ginny shrieked as the blue liquid was directed up at them. As she avoided a stream of blue (shot by Ron), Hermione spotted Harry. "Harry!" she cried, running down the stairs. She hugged him fiercely. "How are you?"
"I'm good, Hermione. It's good to see you."
The Weasleys paused their game. Bill swung his left arm in the air to wave. "Wotcher, Harry!" Bill, the oldest of the Weasley children, was always very friendly to Harry. He worked as a curse-breaker at Gringotts Wizard Bank, a bank run by goblins. Bill worked in the Egypt branch. Harry noticed straight away that Bill had cut off his ponytail, though his fang earring remained. Bill caught his stare and reddened. He ran his working hand through his now-short hair and mumbled, "Fleur wanted to try it short."
"Eet eez too long, my Beely!" Fred purred in an almost-perfect imitation of Fleur Delacour's breathy French accent. Harry knew Fleur as a former student of Beauxbatons, France's school of witchcraft and wizardry, and he supposed that she had been spending an increasing amount of time with Bill to "eemprove her Eenglish."
Ron tried to laugh but only succeeded in twitching a few facial muscles and making a weird choking sound. "Huuuh, Hree," he mumbled with great difficulty. Ron, who'd always been taller than Harry, was nearly as tall as Bill now. Over the past month, he seemed to have finally grown into his long nose and big ears.
Charlie Weasley, the shortest of the flame-haired brothers, shook Harry's hand firmly. Charlie's muscular arm was covered in faint traces of scars—all remnants of dragon burns. Charlie worked with the magical beasts in a reserve in Romania. "Good to see you again, Harry. Where are Tonks and Tabitha? I thought—" A jet of blue suddenly hit him squarely in the shoulder. He dropped Harry's hand and whipped around to shoot Bill. In the chaos, Fred and George approached Harry.
"Our dear friend, Mr. Potter," George whispered. "My associate, Mr. Weasley, and I do owe our most sincere gratitude to your generosity."
"Yes, without that thousand Galleons you so kindly provided us with last year, we would not be the esteemed owners of the most successful new business in Diagon Alley," Fred continued.
"How is your joke shop doing?" Harry asked.
"Fabulously," George said grandly. "So fabulously, in fact, that we were able to hire some help, which of course, allows us to be here to greet you and take part in the business of the Order. We'll be leaving first thing tomorrow, of course. Must start marketing for our newest invention." He brandished the gun.
"What are these?" Harry pointed at the Weasleys' guns.
"Fantastic Freezing Guns. The paralyzing effect is temporary, of course. They're great for games, or for skiving off class. They're not even available in the store yet," Fred said proudly.
"Huuh tmprree?" Ron said.
"Yeah," Bill said, amusing himself by swinging his arm to and fro by the shoulder. "I'm left-handed, you know. The only thing I can do with my right arm is shoot a gun." He suddenly aimed at Fred, hitting him square in the face. Fred's face went as slack as Ron's.
Hermione sighed as the Weasleys launched into a new round of shooting. Ron put his gun down, however, and joined them. "You didn't return any letters," Hermione said sternly. "We know how you must have felt. We were just trying to help. We were all worried about you."
"Ee-in dubbled or," Ron added.
"Especially Dumbledore. He said he hoped you wouldn't do anything rash. I've become a horrible eavesdropper, I have to admit," Hermione said, dropping her voice a bit. "He blames himself for what happened to Sirius, and he sent a spies to Privet Drive again to make sure you didn't do anything, well ..." Her voice trailed off. "But that's all we know. Most of the time, they speak in code because they know we try to eavesdrop, and even Fred and George won't tell us what's going on."
"Thrin thorter," Ron said importantly.
The doorbell rang, reminding Harry that Mrs. Black was missing. "Where's the portrait of Sirius' mum?" he asked.
A dark look suddenly crossed Hermione's face. Ron rolled his eyes at her. "Dubbled or berntit."
"What?"
"Dumbledore burned it," Hermione said. "He broke the spell that kept it up on the wall, and burned it in the basement. And you know what else he burned?" ("Bludeel!" Ron complained.) "Kreacher! He jumped into the fire to save Mrs. Black, and Dumbledore just let him! He just let Kreacher get—get all burnt up!" She was getting very worked up. Kreacher was the Black's house-elf—he hated Sirius because Sirius brought half bloods and Muggle-lovers into the Black home. Mr. and Mrs. Black—as well as many of their relatives—felt that pureblood wizards were the only proper kinds of wizards. Kreacher had disappeared over the past Christmas holiday to the home of Sirius' cousin, Narcissa Malfoy. He was able to leak some information about the Order to Narcissa and her husband Lucius, a Dark wizard in Voldemort's inner circle. Harry had only escaped from Hogwarts to "save" Sirius from Voldemort because Kreacher had lied to Harry, telling him that Sirius was not at home at Grimmauld Place. As far as Harry was concerned, letting Kreacher burn up with his beloved Mrs. Black was the nicest thing Dumbledore could have done for the miserable, grouchy house-elf, and he told Hermione exactly that. Her eyes blazed over and she stomped off, apparently giving them the silent treatment.
Charlie had answered the door and allowed Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to enter. Mrs. Weasley took one look at the blue-goo-covered walls and screamed even more horrifically than Mrs. Black's portrait ever did. Her sons slowly trudged out of the next room (George was dragging a paralyzed leg behind him) and deposited their Fantastic Freezing Guns at her feet. "I expect this will all be cleaned," Mrs. Weasley said. "Guests in someone else's home, and look what they do!" She shook her head and noticed Harry. "Harry! Oh, I've been so worried about you! Are you all right? You look a bit peaky. Do you need some tea? Have those Muggles been feeding you? I'll wager you just need a good meal and a nice sleep. Stop crowding him, Ron, give Harry some space."
"Molly, Molly," Mr. Weasley interrupted. "Harry hasn't seen Ron all summer. We should let them have some time to talk. Up in their room."
Fred tugged on Harry's sleeve. "That's code for 'official Order business is about to start and the best way to keep you lot from spying is to make sure you're locked up in your rooms.' " After a look from Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione grudgingly went upstairs to their rooms. Bill, Fred, and George followed their parents to the kitchen, where the meeting would be held, while Charlie jogged upstairs to get Tabitha, Tonks, and Lupin.
Harry flopped down on his bed, the same one he'd used last year. He and Ron were alone, and Ron's paralysis had finally worn off. "You shouldn't blame yourself, Harry," Ron blurted out.
"What?"
"For—for Sirius. Hermione and I were talking, and she thinks you'll be blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault. Kreacher, Kreacher shouldn't've ..."
"It's all right, Ron. I—I don't really want to talk about it just now." He looked around the room. "So, is there anything particular happening with the Order?"
"We think they have some kind of weapon," Ron whispered. "None of us knows what it is, but we know it's not the prophecy. Has something to do with it, though, we'd bet. We heard them say that this was only the first step, but we never got close enough to hear what the weapon is, not even with Extendable Ears"—another Fred and George invention—"and they whisper through most of the meeting." Ron grinned. "Who's that girl you came with? I saw her going upstairs with Lupin and Tonks. Dumbledore never said who he was sending to get you."
"I don't know who she is. She seems to know Dumbledore. He's been sending her owls all summer about Order business. It looks like she and Tonks are friends. I think she said knows Tonks' family, or at least her mother. And she seems pretty close with Lupin."
"She's young, though, eh? Can't be much older than us."
Harry shrugged.
He and Ron looked at each other awkwardly. Harry had never felt so uncomfortable around Ron before. But he couldn't talk to him about this. Ron hadn't lost his parents when he was still a baby. He hadn't lived for ten years with miserable, boring people who allowed their son to beat him up. He never had the immense weight of facing Voldemort single-handed on his shoulders. His godfather had not been killed in front of him. For the first time, Harry felt very isolated from his best friend.
"Percy's been fired," Ron said after a few more minutes of awkward silence. "Fudge fired him himself. He finally reported to the Daily Prophet that Voldemort is back, and Percy went right to his office to ask why he would feed into all the lies that you and Dumbledore've been spreading. Dad said everyone outside of Fudge's office could hear them arguing, and finally Fudge just fired him."
"What'd Percy do?"
"I'm not sure. I'm not really sure what he's doing, but he won't come home. He says he can't live with people who still believe what you and Dumbledore are saying."
Harry balled his fists in anger. After all he'd been through, Ron's giant git of a brother still wouldn't believe him. Harry'd liked Percy at one point, but his fondness for him was dwindling more and more everyday.
He and Ron said barely three words to each other after that. Ron reread his favorite Chudley Cannons book while Harry lie quietly in his bed, thinking. It wasn't long before Hermione and Ginny popped in to say goodnight, and Ron turned out the light.
It was quiet around Grimmauld Place for several days. Harry didn't speak much, and his friends sensed that he didn't really want to talk. He did make appearances around the house, however. He would eat with everyone else at mealtimes and even helped the boys clean the front hall. But Tabitha didn't emerge from her room for four days straight. On the evening of the second day, Mrs. Weasley had asked Lupin if perhaps Tabitha felt up to having dinner with everyone else.
"I don't think so, Molly," Lupin had said. "Before she came London, she was working in a rainforest in South America. She must have caught something, but I don't think it's anything really serious, you know. Most likely she'll sleep it off in a few days."
On the fourth day, she came down to breakfast looking positively wrecked. She was very pale, and Harry hoped that she would be feeling well soon—even if she wasn't particularly nice to him. Even sick, she was shooting foul looks at Harry all during breakfast. She stayed in her room for the rest of the day, skipping lunch and dinner.
That night, well after Ron had fallen into a deep sleep, Harry crept to their window for some water. He realized their pitcher was empty, and decided to risk walking down the creaky stairs to the kitchen.
The hallway was dark save for a glimmer of light at the end of the passage. Harry tiptoed silently towards the stairs, where the light got brighter. The closer he moved towards the kitchen, the better he could hear the two voices whispering behind the half-closed door.
Harry peeked around the door. Lupin and Tabitha were sitting at the table, clasping hands as they sipped steaming tea. "I'm so glad we didn't wait," Tabitha said hoarsely.
"I am, too," Lupin replied. "I can't imagine what it would have been like to have the wedding after all this."
Harry's mouth widened in an O of surprise. Did he just hear properly? Lupin and Tabitha were married?
"I know why you wanted to put it off," Lupin said so softly that Harry almost didn't hear him. "Lily and James' wedding." Harry leaned closer. He had to hear this.
Tabitha gave a sharp, bitter laugh. "Remus, even I don't think like that. I didn't think anything like that was going to happen. Besides, I haven't got a family for the Death Eaters to slaughter." She shook her head. "I can't believe Dumbledore trusts Snape after that. After he did that to Lily and James …"
Harry saw that Lupin's face had gone very white. He was angry. "Don't. I'm sorry I brought it up. I—I can't think of that right now. Not when Snape's on our side. Not when I have to be civil to him." He shook his head. "Just forget it for now, Tabitha. Snivellus was … a different person then," he said with much difficulty. "He's changed sides. What he did as a Death Eater can't … we can't … just forget it." Lupin stood up suddenly. "I'm sorry I brought it up." Harry leaned back into the shadows as Lupin approached. He breezed by Harry without noticing him. Harry stayed hidden until Tabitha left the kitchen, and, when he was sure she was in bed, he slipped back up to his bedroom. He had to tell Ron what he'd just heard.