A/N: Usual disclaimers apply. A question was asked about the mystery girl in the prophecy. I won't tell you who she is, although it isn't very original or hard to figure out. I will say that she is not an original character. No long lost sisters, cousins, or neices-twice-removed here. I have no faith in my ability to write an original character without turning her into a Mary Sue, so I won't even try. However, I'm not above stealing characters from other fandoms, so you may see one or two "guest stars" from time to time appearing in cameo roles. Enjoy!
Chapter Two
"Mrs. Dursley!" a gravelly, high-pitched voice called.
Harry straightened up from where he was pouring asphalt and saw their neighbor Mrs. Figg flopping down the sidewalk toward their house at a furious rate. Dressed in a tattered pink robe and matching slippers, she seemed just as normal as any other crazy old woman with too many cats. Only Harry knew that there was more to Mrs. Figg than met the eye. She was a squib, a non-magical person born to a magical family. She had watched over Harry all his life and wasn't nearly as nasty as she liked to pretend.
He hadn't talked to her since last summer when he learned of her true identity, and since she seemed to be acting as if nothing had happened, he followed suit. Occasionally, however, when they passed on the street he thought he saw her wink and the faintest ghost of a smile would form on her thin lips. But that had been the extent of their interaction.
So Harry was now wondering why Mrs. Figg was stomping up their driveway.
"Mrs. Dursley," she spoke in a clipped tone. Her wrinkled lips were pressed into an impossibly thin line and she seemed to be shaking with suppressed fury. "I need to speak with your nephew," she ground out.
"What has he done now?" His aunt Petunia sent him a nasty look. Ah, now that was the Aunt Petunia he knew. Harry gave a mental shrug and chalked up her earlier kindness to temporary insanity.
"Been torturing my cats, that's what," replied Mrs. Figg. "Saw him throwing stones at poor Mr. Tubbles."
"I have not!" Harry protested. How could she blame him for that – he hadn't left the house in a week.
"Shut it, you," said Petunia, pointing a bony finger in his face. "What are you going to do to him?" she asked Mrs. Figg.
"Well, I thought that since he enjoys torturing my cats so much, he can help me take care of them." She turned to Harry. "You'll start by scrubbing the litter boxes – all ten of them. And one of my kittens has been sick – left a nasty mess all over my basement. You'll clean that up too. That is, of course, if it's okay with you, Mrs. Dursley."
"Be my guest. Goodness only knows I've tried to straighten the boy up. It seems he still won't learn."
Harry just stood there, letting her words roll off his back. He'd heard similar words all his life; they had long ago lost any power to hurt him. He knew they weren't true and arguing the point would only make his punishment worse. So instead he just sighed.
"Fine." He followed Mrs. Figg down the driveway.
As they walked down the street toward her house, Harry glanced down at the diminutive woman. He expected her to say something, anything to show that he wasn't just some neighbor kid. At the moment she was his only link to the magical world and he desperately wanted to talk to her about it. But when they reached her home a few minutes later, she hadn't spoken a word. He had just resigned himself to an afternoon of cleaning up after cats when she pointed at a hairy chair in the living room.
"Sit." And she shuffled her way out of the room.
Harry sat. And waited. He looked around the room, wondering just what he was supposed to be doing. The room was the same as he'd remembered from all the times when he was little and Mrs. Figg would watch him while the Dursleys were on vacation.
He had just opened his mouth to ask Mrs. Figg what he was supposed to do when there was a soft whoosh and suddenly a tall man was standing before him. Long purple robes were visible under a long silver beard and blue eyes twinkled behind half moon spectacles. Harry jumped up with a startled cry of recognition.
"Professor Dumbledore!"
The old wizard smiled and came forward. "Hello, Harry. I cannot stay long. You needed to speak with me?" It was then that Harry saw the worn lines on the headmaster's face. He seemed to have aged greatly in the weeks since Harry had seen him last. He knew that it wasn't time but worry that had created those wrinkles.
"Oh, right. I had a dream the night before last – Voldemort was in it. I'm pretty sure that it was actually happening; it felt just like the dreams I had last year."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly and he listened intently while Harry recounted his dream.
"And then I woke up and my scar was hurting." He looked up at the professor who seemed to be staring at something inside himself.
"Hmmm, yes, I see," he murmured. His blue eyes cleared and landed on Harry. "Are you sure the last prophecy was about your mother? Did it reference her specifically?"
Harry frowned in concentration. "No, sir. But it was obviously about her. It said that a woman with red hair – um, hair of fire is how it's stated. There was something about a child of phoenix. Anyway the prophecy said this woman would sacrifice herself for me, and that the sacrifice would lead to Voldemort's defeat, which it did."
A thick silence wrapped around them while Dumbledore stared gravely into space. He turned to Harry. "Pack your things. Be ready to leave tonight. Arabella," he called, and Mrs. Figg appeared in the doorway.
"Arabella, would you kindly escort Harry back to his house?"
"Certainly, Albus."
Dumbledore smiled once more at Harry, but Harry noticed that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I will see you soon, Harry."
And then he was gone.
Harry sat on his tightly packed trunk and prepared to wait. He had no idea who was coming to get him or when they would even get there. He heard noises below, of the Dursleys sitting down to supper. Harry grinned. They didn't know that soon they would be playing host to those "freak friends" of his. Well, it wouldn't be for the first time that summer.
True to their promise at the end of term, various Order members had paid him short visits over the summer. The Dursleys weren't aware of this, as the visits had occurred during the day, and were usually only for 15 minutes or so. Just long enough for Harry to know he wasn't forgotten.
Harry smiled. The visits had been a bright spot in an otherwise dark summer. He'd be outside, mowing the lawn and suddenly Tonks would be beside him, sporting hair in some outrageous color. Or he'd be on an early morning jog and find Bill Weasley running beside him as if they'd made plans to run together. Harry had even opened the door one morning for the mail only to find that the "postman" was none other than Mad Eye Moody. Uncle Vernon had taken quite a fright until he convinced himself that it was just a "strange likeness, just a coincidence."
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong. The clanging doorbell jerked Harry out of his thoughts. Ding dong, ding-dong.
"All right! We're coming! There's no need to lean on the bloody bell!" Uncle Vernon roared below.
Harry stood up, knowing that they were here. It could only be Arthur Weasley on the other side of that door. The doorbell would be yet another item to add to the wizard's list of muggle fascinations.
He jogged down the stairs and skidded into the living room. Sure enough three strikingly red heads of hair met his eyes. Arthur Weasley, dressed in some god-awful combination of plaid, dots, stripes and paisley (topped off with pink bunny slippers) was attempting to introduce his two sons to the dumbstruck Dursleys.
"Now I believe you've already met my youngest son, Ron, and this is my oldest boy, Bill."
Bill, who obviously knew nothing of the Dursleys, stuck out his hand to Mr. Dursley. "How do you do?"
But Uncle Vernon just glared at the young man, but as he was also quaking in trepidation, the effect was more humorous than intimidating.
Harry turned his attention to the three Weasleys. Bill and Arthur were looking around with a great deal of interest. Harry noticed that Mr. Weasley's fingers twitched as he gazed longingly at the DVD player. But Ron, having seen it all before, and not quite having his father's obsession with muggle artifacts, took everything in with a quick glance and headed to Harry.
The two friends met in a quick hug that ended in a hearty slap on Harry's back. He was surprised that the embrace didn't embarrass him; rather, after everything the two best friends had faced together, handshakes were no longer sufficient to show their love for the other. They were brothers now, if not in blood.
Ron stared at Harry for a moment, as if sizing up his friend's condition. "Well then, you all packed, mate?"
"Yes, my trunk's upstairs."
Soon, after bidding a "fond farewell" to the Dursleys, the four men stood outside with Harry's things.
"Where are we going, and how are we getting there?" Harry asked. He glanced around, surprised at the seeming lack of security. Last summer, he had left in the dead of night with no fewer than 9 Order members. And even during the rest of the year, he didn't go anywhere without some kind of guard. Now it was just the four of them, and two were underage.
"We're going to the Burrow, of course. Where else would we go?" Ron laughed uneasily and shot Harry a look that clearly read, "Don't ask, just play along."
"As for how we're going…." Ron pointed to a new car parked in the driveway. "It's a Ministry car. They gave it to Dad to make up for…well, I'll tell you later."
Harry shrugged and packed his belongings into the spacious trunk. Soon, they were off. Harry fingered the fabric of the seats. It was a nice car, with a suspiciously room interior. Harry suspected that it had undergone a few "enhancements" courtesy of Mr. Weasley.
Still, despite the luxurious ride, Harry couldn't help but feel uneasy. He glanced out the window, his gaze flickering all around him. He felt vulnerable, exposed. He stared into the sky, expecting a dozen Death Eaters to come swooping down on them.
Bill must have noticed his discomfiture, for he leaned back over his seat in the front and spoke in an undertone to Harry. "Don't worry, Harry. We've got Order members covering every side of us. And this car was once used by the top levels of the Ministry; it's covered in protective wards and anti-curse charms. It's quite literally the safest place you could be."
A wry smile flitted across Harry's face. "It's too bad I can't spend the rest of my life here."
There was a long pause and Ron spoke up, breaking the tension. "You'll get to see Charlie; he's home from Romania on a brief break."
"Charlie? Wow, I haven't seen him since the First Task."
"Yeah, Mum's beside herself with joy. It's been a while since all of us were back under one roof again. Well, most of us anyway," he added darkly.
"So… I guess Percy's still gone," Harry said softly.
"Yeah. We thought for sure he'd come and apologize after Fudge finally admitted that Voldemort was back. But it's been two months now and we've still heard nothing from him. Not a single owl."
"But why? Surely now that he knows I've been telling the truth he'd want to come back."
"Weasley pride, I'm afraid," Ron answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "And Percy's got it more than the rest of us. He can't bring himself to admit he was wrong." He sighed. "Stupid git."
Harry gave a weak smile. Ron shook himself, as if trying to get onto a happier topic. "And speaking of stupid gits," his voice grew very grave and he fixed Harry with a serious gaze. "Do not eat anything the twins give you. Don't eat anything you may find lying around the house. In fact, don't eat anything unless it comes straight from Mum."
"Ooooo-kay." Harry saw Bill chuckling in the front seat. "Need I ask why?"
"They've invented a new wheeze called Double Delights," Bill explained. "They, ah, have an interesting affect on certain aspects of your anatomy."
Harry paused. "Anatomy? Wait, does it have anything to do with the card they sent me?" He went on to explain the picture of the "twins."
"Yeah, it certainly does."
"See, it all started with Ginny," Ron explained. "She's been going through some… 'changes' lately. You know, 'girl changes,' and I hadn't really noticed because, well, it's Ginny and I don't look at her like that. Plus, those robes hide a lot, you know? Needless to say, we were all surprised at beginning of holiday to see all the 'changes.'"
At this point, Bill was laughing openly at the queasy expression on Ron's face. Obviously, Ron had never expected his little sister to grow up.
Ron continued. "It hit us hard cause she's always been the baby, and the only girl in a house full of boys. We don't really know how to react. So, Fred and George have been handling it in typical Fred and George fashion. Only, one day the teasing got to be too much for Ginny to take and this was the result," Ron finished, referring to the picture.
"You mean, Ginny did that?"
"Yeah, I know. Impressive, huh?" Ron said, a distinct note of pride in his voice. "I'll give you a warning, mate. Never, ever, make Ginny mad at you. She has the worst of the Weasley temper coupled with the twins' evil genius. She's dead scary," said Ron, shuddering.
"Ginny? But she always seems so…"
"Sweet? Innocent?" Bill ventured. "That's what everyone thinks. But she's more than a little like the dastardly duo, and she's certainly pulled her fair share of pranks. Only, no one ever suspects her, because she's sweet, innocent Ginny Weasley."
"So, anyway, back to the Double Delights," Ron picked up, "Ginny got so tired of their stupid teasing that she hit them with this spell, and they were stuck like that for days. They even went to work like that, with great giant knockers swinging around under their shirts! Business at the shop was great, as word spread. They even had to fight off the attention of some rather amorous men."
Harry laughed at the image of Fred and George running from a crowd of adoring men. Perhaps they could change their names to something like Fredericka and Georgina. He caught a glimpse of Mr. Weasley's amused face in the rear view mirror. He wondered briefly where the Weasley talent for mischief-making came from. He imagined a young Arthur Weasley wreaking havoc in the halls of Hogwarts and smiled.
"Ginny finally took it off though, when it became clear that Fred was enjoying it a little too much. The twins thought it was so great that they worked day and night to reproduce the effect and now they're desperate to try it out on some unsuspecting victim. I swear, they've planted those things everywhere."
"Wow. Thanks for the warning."
The sun had disappeared and twilight was quickly fading by the time the car pulled up the dirt road to the Burrow. Harry looked at the rustic house and felt his heart swell. If Hogwarts was his home, then this was his second home and it was good to be back.
Harry and Ron got out of the car while Bill and Mr. Weasley went to collect his things. There was a loud girly squeal and Harry turned to see a tall oddly shaped figure striding towards him. The figure turned out to be Charlie who was giving Ginny a piggyback ride.
"Harry!" Charlie greeted him with a broad smile and a hearty handshake. "You've sprouted up a bit since I last saw you."
"Hi Harry!" Ginny bent over from Charlie's back to give him a tight hug and a peck on the cheek, much to Harry's surprise. She straightened back up and patted Charlie on the back. "Faster, dragon!"
They headed toward the house with the Charlie/Ginny combo leading the way. Harry shot a bewildered look at Ron.
"Yeah, I know. She's been like this since Charlie got here. Something about having us all at home again has got her acting like she's five. Hermione calls it 'regression' – says it's normal that with everything going on in the world, that Ginny just wants to pretend that she's a little girl again. Of course Bill and Charlie treat her like a little girl anyway so it kind of works out."
They went inside where Charlie was holding Ginny upside down by her waist while struggling to remove the socks from her flailing legs. Her face was turning a Weasley shade of red when she spied her eldest brother coming in with Harry's trunk.
"Bill! Save me! He's trying to take my socks and you know you're my favorite brother!"
"These are my socks," Charlie replied with amusement, "and what do you mean he's your favorite brother? You told me I was."
"Umm," Ginny said, a small smile playing about her mouth. Her two brothers exchanged evil grins and the youngest Weasley disappeared in a flurry of limbs and tickling fingers. Gasping laughter could be heard from the girl who was rolling on the floor trying to fend off her attackers.
"Harry! Ron! Save me!" she cried, doubled up in a ball, laughing.
Ron shook his head. "Nutters, absolutely nutters. Come on, let's get your things upstairs."
The two boys half carried, half dragged his trunk up the crooked stairs of the Weasleys' crooked house. Three landings up, they could still hear Ginny's shrieks of laughter below.
"I'm so glad you're here, Harry. It's been crazy around here."
Harry smiled; he would take the insanity of the Weasleys over the Dursleys' "normality" any day.
They had just reached Ginny's room when the door flew open to reveal… "Hermione?"
And yes it was his bushy haired bookish best friend. And yet…. Harry gaped at his friend. Something was different.
She was taller for one thing, now beating Harry's height by a good inch. And she seemed to have gone through some of those "girl changes" Ron was talking about, though she retained a lean athletic quality to her figure. There also seemed to be something different about her face and hair but Harry didn't have time to figure out what it was before she launched herself at him crying "Harry!" and giving him a squeezing hug and a peck on the cheek to rival Ginny's.
"Hi, Hermione," he laughed. "It's good to see you too." He pulled back from her. "Wow… you look, um, nice."
Hermione beamed at him while Ron rolled his eyes. "Thanks!" she said.
"Told you he'd notice," said a voice behind him. Harry turned to see a pink-faced Ginny coming up the stairs. Her brown eyes were bright with laughter.
Harry turned to Hermione for an explanation.
"A couple of days ago, the 'boys' decided they'd have a 'guys night out' and went to a Quidditch match and then have drinks at a pub."
"Dad and I were the only ones drinking butterbeer," Ron said sourly. "I tried to get Fred to let me have some of their Firewhiskey but no go."
"So anyway, in retaliation, we girls: Mum, Tonks, Hermione and I, had a 'girls night in,'" Ginny said as they headed up the stairs to Ron's room.
"So what did you 'girls' do?" Harry asked with a grin.
"Just hung out in our pajamas, doing makeovers and baking biscuits,…talking about boys. You know, girl stuff."
"Girl stuff, huh?" Harry smiled, trying to imagine Hermione painting her nails in her pajamas while talking about boys. "Any particular boys?" he asked Hermione with a teasing grin. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Ron stiffen at the question. His ears turned a tale-tell pink.
"Well, your name might have come up once or twice," Hermione answered with a teasing grin of her own.
"Really? What about?"
Ginny hid a giggle behind her hand while Hermione just smiled sweetly. "Wouldn't you like to know, Mr. Potter."
"You might as well give up, mate," Ron said. "They won't tell me a thing. Which isn't very nice – talking about us behind our backs."
"Oh, right. Like the very reason for the 'guys night out' wasn't so that you could talk about girls."
"It wasn't! Well, it's not all we did."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Anyway, getting back to the point. Mrs. Weasley taught me a few spells to help me handle my hair without a great deal of fuss."
"Oh," Harry said, looking at his friend's long chestnut brown hair. While still quite wild looking, it had tamed a great deal. Her hair now fell in soft curls and waves down her back. "It's less, uh,…."
"Bushy?" Hermione said with a laugh. "She also taught me a few glamours and makeup charms." She lowered her voice so only Harry could hear. "Do I really look nice? Not silly or you know, made up?"
Harry shook his head, hoping he was answering correctly. Why girls cared so much about such things, he'd never know. "You look nice," he finished, falling back on his earlier statement. She smiled, so he assumed it was the right response. "Since when do you care about this anyway?"
Harry thought he could see pink circles forming on Hermione's cheeks. "Oh, I don't care," she replied with a forced breeziness. "But sometimes it's nice to do things for yourself. Don't worry, I'm not going to become Lavender or Parvati anytime soon."
They reached Ron's room and dropped Harry's things on the floor. "Don't bother unpacking," Ron said. "We're not going to be here very long."
"Where are we going?"
"Um… headquarters," Ron replied uneasily.
The elation Harry had felt upon arriving at the Burrow vanished with the news. "Oh, " he said simply, eyes trained on the floor. How would he be able to handle going back there, to where S-…
"Sorry, Harry. It's just that it's…"
"The safest place for me. Yeah, I know," Harry said dejectedly. "Why did we even bother coming here if we're just going to turn around and go to headquarters?"
"In Moody's words, 'To throw off anyone who might be watching.'"
"It won't be so bad, Harry," Ginny said, laying a hand on his arm. "We've been doing a lot of work there; it looks much better. Remus lives there now; he'll be glad of your company. This summer has been…hard on him, I think."
"Maybe the two of you could talk, if you don't feel comfortable talking to us that is," Hermione said, her eyes full of sad concern. "If there's anyone who understands the pain of Sirius's death, it's Remus. And of course, we're here for you too, Harry."
A thick lump formed in Harry's throat and he fought to keep the sudden emotion down. He couldn't do this now, not like this.
He felt Ginny's hand squeeze his arm. "When you're ready, Harry."
He swallowed. "Yeah. Sure," he muttered non-commitally.
Ron was first to break the heavy silence. "So, I bet you're wondering what's been going on."
Harry felt as if he'd been hit by a wave of icy water. The numb detachment he'd felt over the summer had been knocked away with one sentence and everything that he'd worked so hard to avoid thinking about came rushing over him. Voldemort. The prophecy. And either must die at the hands of the other, for neither can survive while the other lives. His godfather, falling backwards through the air, surprise on his face…. Harry shook away the sudden memory. Get a grip, Potter. He couldn't let the flashbacks start up again; he'd worked so hard to keep them at bay. He forced his mind back to the conversation at hand and focused on his friends, who were looking at him with understanding sorrow in their eyes.
"Um, yeah." He swallowed. "I haven't seen anything in either the Prophet or the muggle news that could be Voldemort. What's he up to?"
Ron sent Hermione a sidelong glance. "Unfortunately, we can't tell you anything about that-," He held up his hands as if to hold off any protest from Harry. "But that's because we don't know anything, Harry."
"Let's just say Mum's gotten very good at casting imperturbable charms," Ginny said sullenly. "You know as much as we do."
"And Fred and George are no help," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'd think that now they are Order members, they'd help us out. But no, they enjoy lording over us that they are members and we aren't."
Just then two loud CRACKS! rent the air, followed by the sudden appearance of Fred and George in Ron's room.
"Stop doing that!" Hermione's exclamation was met with a crooked smile from George.
"My profoundest apologies, milady. Our ears were burning and we thought that our favorite little brother might be talking about us –"
"-something positive, no doubt-"
"-no doubt. You know how he looks up to us-"
"-idolizes us-"
"-hero worship is what it is-"
"So how's the shop?" Harry cut in loudly.
"Ah, George, look! It's our generous-"
"-and might I add handsome-"
"-benefactor, Harry! The business is going very well, especially now that the summer shopping season has arrived."
"All the ickle Hogwarts students buying their school supplies."
"We even had to get Lee to help us out in the store."
"Wow, that's great – sounds like a lot of fun," Harry said.
At this Fred heaved a great sigh. "Fun – that's what it's supposed to be. But we're spending so much time working on items for the Order that we don't get to work much with the shop."
"Items for the Order?" Harry asked.
"Yeah. It's our fault really. What were we thinking? Creating something with a practical application…" Fred shook his head in shame.
"It's those blasted extendable ears," George explained. "Word got out about them and how useful they are and now aurors are snatching them up faster than we can make them. And now the Order's got us working on other similar items. We've already got a prototype completed – extendable eyes, just like extendable ears."
"Still working out the kinks on that one though."
"Last time I tried it, I was blind in one eye for a week."
"And once we do get it working, I'm sure they'll keep us busy on any number of new projects. I tell you, it's disgraceful. Our creations being used for…respectable purposes! Where did we go wrong, George?"
"I don't know, Fred. Mischief making is not what it used to be."
Harry smiled at the twins' theatrics.
"Yes, well, if you had stayed in school and sat for your N.E.W.T.S. then you would have something else to fall back on," Hermione pointed out.
"Yes, well, the one or two N.E.W.T.S. we would have scored wouldn't be of much help, now would they?" George replied in a like manner.
"Besides, we weren't going to stick around with Umbridge running things."
"Speaking of – whatever happened to Umbridge?" Harry asked.
"Sacked," Ron answered.
"Really?"
"Well, technically she 'resigned' from the Ministry position," Hermione clarified. "But everyone knows it was forced upon her."
Harry blinked. "She lost her job with the Ministry?" It was more than he had expected, more than he had even hoped for.
"Yeah, it was great. There was a trial and everything," Ron said with glee.
"Please," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "That trial was such a waste of time. It was an…appeasement. That's what it was. Like a bone thrown to a dog to get it to forget the feast on the table."
"What are you on about now, Hermione?" Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Fudge! He's been in a great deal of trouble ever since the Ministry confirmed the news of Voldemort's return. Most of the wizarding community believes that Fudge should have known about it and been doing something about it. And many others believe that he did know and purposefully withheld the information. And the whole thing with Umbridge has simply added fuel to their fire. They're saying Fudge planted Umbridge at Hogwarts to subvert the truth, which is essentially what happened. So, to take the suspicion off of himself, he offered Umbridge up as a sacrificial lamb. He claims she acted purely on her own."
"What about the Educational Decrees he signed?" Harry protested.
"He did admit to signing them, but claims he didn't know at the time what they were for, that they were in with a large stack of papers his secretary had given him to sign."
"And do people believe that?"
"It's a mixed bag," Ron replied. "Fudge is enough of a bungler that it's very possible. But there are still a number of people calling for his resignation. Dad says things are crazy at the Ministry. Everyone's jockeying for position in case there's a new election."
"A new minister? But, that's good, right?"
"It depends on who it is. The thing about Fudge is, he's a bungling fool, but he's a good fool. Dad's known him for years, and he's a good person, paranoid delusions aside. Sure, he's easily impressed by the money and prestige of the old families like the Malfoys, but he's basically harmless."
"And he trusts Dumbledore, now that he knows Dumbledore doesn't want his job, and is following his advice. Who knows what the next minister will be like? You-Know-Who has a number of supporters within the ministry. Imagine if one of them came into power," Fred said with a shudder.
"They wouldn't have to," said Hermione. "Just the talk of replacing Fudge has put the Ministry's focus on internal politics instead of where it should be, fighting Voldemort. It's best that Fudge remains in power."
"And to think, I spent all last year wishing he'd be replaced," Harry said with a slight smile. "So, tell me about the trial. How did that come about?"
"Well, when the parents found out about what had been going on at school: opened mail, detentions, the Inquisitorial Squad, lack of practical instruction in Defense Against the Dark Arts, the attack on Professor McGonnagall – well, let's just say that there was an uproar," Hermione said.
"The Ministry received so many Howlers they had to put silencing charms up everywhere," Ron added.
"Mum sent one," Ginny interjected.
"She found out about everything Umbridge had done to you. Mum was so upset, she didn't just have kittens; she had full-grown cats. Never, have I been so glad that her anger was directed somewhere else," Fred said with a shudder.
The thought of Mrs. Weasley's being on the warpath in his defense made him feel inexplicably warm inside. He never ceased to be amazed by the way she cared for him. He could just imagine that this is what it would have been like had his mum been alive.
"So the Ministry brought Umbridge up on charges," George continued. "Violating students' rights, reading other's mail, use of 'cruel and unusual' punishments. We have the Muggle parents to thank for that one. Apparently it's a big deal with them. She had a full trial, in front of the Wizengamot, no less."
"Poetic justice. I wish I could have seen that," Harry said.
"You were there in spirit, mate," George said with a grin.
"See, they wanted you to testify about everything Umbridge had done to you, but Dumbledore felt it was best to leave you out of it. Things have a way of turning around and he didn't want the trial to turn into an attack against you," Fred said.
"Plus, you couldn't leave Privet Drive," George pointed out.
"But we still managed to get your name in there once or twice," Fred said with a smirk, "so that people would know the worst of her offenses."
"So what happened?"
"Well, some students testified about the conditions at Hogwarts," Hermione replied.
"You should have seen it!" Fred jumped in eagerly. "Lee testified about the detentions he had served with her and the lines she had made him carve in his hand. He went on and on about how he couldn't take notes because of the 'crippling pain' and how his N.E.W.T. revision suffered as a result."
"I heard the N.E.W.T. examining authority was going to let him retest," George said.
"The best part, though, was when he 'accidentally' let your name slip. He said, very dramatically mind you, that 'as torturous as the pain was though, it would have been a great deal worse if my housemate Harry Potter hadn't turned me onto using essense of murtlap on my hand to ease the pain.'
'And how did he come to need essence of murtlap?' the examiner asked.
Well, then Lee told them about you having to serve all those detentions with her and that when you told him about the murtlap essence he, quote, 'glanced down at Harry's hands and saw dozens of deep little cuts that hadn't fully healed yet.' He paused for dramatic effect before saying with a nice little shudder, 'I can still see those words burned into my mind.'
'And what did they say?' the examiner asked, with a practiced expression of horror.
You could have heard a quill drop when Lee softly answered, 'I will not tell lies.'"
"You could have knocked the Wizengamot over with a golden snitch feather," George interjected.
"It continued in this vein for a while with different students giving testimony. One of the O.W.L. administrators testified about the attack on Professor McGonagall," said Fred.
"Best of all, though, was Neville Longbottom. He told about that day in Umbridge's office. You should have seen the faces of the Wizengamot when they heard that Umbridge threatened you with the Cruciatius Curse and confessed that she had set the dementors on you last summer."
"I'm surprised they just took Neville's word," Harry said.
"Ah, but you forget, you're everyone's golden boy again. They're not going to let an attack against you go unpunished. Especially since Fudge wants everyone to forget that he tried so hard to discredit you last year."
"Plus, Neville was a very sympathetic witness – especially when he mentioned the bit about Umbridge threatening you with the Cruciatius Curse. His voice became very soft and his hands shook. And of course everyone knows what happened to his parents; most of the people on the Wizengamot had known them personally. They probably would have believed anything Neville said."
"After the trial the Wizengamot deliberated for like, five minutes before they came back and 'asked' Umbridge to step down from her position," Fred said.
"She got off easy," Ron spat. "She should be in Azkaban for what she did – Harry could have been Kissed!"
"Azkaban's too good for her," Hermione said. "But unfortunately, there is no way to prove that she was behind the dementor attack now that the dementors have joined Voldemort. Neville's testimony of her admittance is basically hearsay. And she didn't actually use the Cruciatius Curse on you so they can't charge her with that, either." She released an angry breath of air and sighed, her shoulders slumping with resignation.
"Well, the good news is that a number of parents are bringing civil suits against her for 'physical abuses and mental anguish suffered under her care.' She'll be tied up in court for years and by the time it's all over with she won't have a knut to her name. So, maybe this is better in the end."
"Still, it's not fair," Ginny hissed. "She does all that and she's still walking around free."
"Oh, she's not walking around free," Fred said.
"She's under house arrest," George added.
"She is? I didn't hear anything about that," Hermione said with a skeptical look.
"Well, not officially anyway," Fred amended.
"For some reason Ms. Umbridge doesn't want to leave her house."
"Apparently, she hears the clomping of centaur hooves every time she steps outside."
"It's the damnedest thing," George said with a shake of his head.
"Our former headmistress might be cracking up," Fred said.
"Might be," George agreed.
"What did you two do?" Hermione asked with a very small, but evil looking grin.
"Us? Why we did nothing!"
"Can we help it if the poor woman was traumatized by her experience with the centaurs?"
"Honestly! Some people just want to blame us for everything."
"That's because you're usually to blame," Hermione countered. "It doesn't take a seer to know that where there's trouble, you two aren't far behind."
"I thank you for the compliment, fair maiden," Fred said with a bow. "And speaking of seers…," he began, before being interrupted by Ron.
"Oh, you haven't heard the big news. Bigger than Umbridge. It's huge – all over the Daily Prophet this morning," Ron said.
"What?" Harry asked as his stomach filled with cold dread. He hadnt had a chance to read the Prophet before leaving Privet Drive. Had there been an attack?
"Trelawney's dead," Ron continued on, seemingly oblivious of his friend's anxious state. "It happened this morning. Made the front page and everything." Excitement rang in Ron's voice.
"Honestly, Ron. You could at least try and show some sympathy. The poor woman is dead and you're acting as if the Chudley Cannons had just managed to actually win a game," Hermione scolded.
Ron clutched at his chest as if mortally wounded by Hermione's attack on his beloved team. "Oy! You leave the Cannons out of this!"
"How did it happen?" Harry asked. His voice seemed distant to his ears. He was lost in memories of his dream. Voldemort had Professor Trelawney…there was a prophecy…and he was torturing her…Crucio!…and her screams echoed in his head…piercing. And now she was dead. It really happened, then. It wasn't just a dream. And Voldemort killed her. And either must die….
Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't hear Ron's reply.
"Apparently, she Apparated in front of a bus early this morning in Muggle London. It was one of those dobbledocker-"
"Doubledecker," Hermione corrected.
"Right. Anyway, the muggles on the bus said that a woman just appeared out of thin air right in front of the bus. The driver didn't even have time to react before Bam!" Ron slammed his fist into his palm to emphasize what had happened.
Harry heard one of the twins snicker behind him.
"Fred!" Hermione admonished. "It isn't funny!"
"Oh, I beg to differ," George said with an open laugh. "Imagine being a witch, living in these times with a war on and all, Death Eaters at every corner and this is how you die. Flattened like a crepe by a muggle bus. It's very funny."
"Even funnier because it's her, Ms. Seer, Professor of Divination. I mean, shouldn't she have seen this coming?" Fred said.
"If only she had predicted her own death as many times as she's predicted Harry's – she might still be alive," Ron said.
"Well, I've always thought Divination was a useless subject," Hermione said with a slight lift of her chin. "But it doesn't change the fact that someone has died. Let's try and show a little respect."
"How did she end up in Muggle London? I mean, why was she there?" Harry asked.
"Well, the Mediwitches at St. Mungo's examined her body and found large amounts of Firewhiskey in her blood," Hermione replied.
"In other words, she got pissed and tried to Apparate and landed in the wrong place," Fred said.
"Which is why you should never Apparate when you're drunk. It's amazing she didn't splinch herself," George said with a shudder.
Harry's brow knitted together. Her death seemed natural enough. How did Voldemort fit into it?
"Harry? Are you okay?" Ginny asked.
Harry looked up from his thoughts. "Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine."
Ginny looked as if she wanted to argue the point but she simply shrugged and let the matter drop.
Ginny was standing just in front of Harry and so he then noticed that there was something…different about her. But what? Grateful for a chance to break the sudden tension in the room, he spoke to her.
"Were you this…tall in June? You seem…taller," he finished lamely.
"Yeah, I've had a little growth spurt," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Well, that's one way of putting it," Fred said with a wide, teasing grin. The grin vanished though when Ginny shot him a death glare capable of making even the darkest creature tremble with fear.
"Yes, well, anyway," Ginny turned back to Harry, "despite the couple of inches I've gained I'm afraid I'm destined to always be short." She smiled. "I was hoping to take after Dad but I'm afraid I'm Mum's daughter."
Harry nodded absently. Yes, she was taller. But there was still something…different about the diminutive redhead. But as his eyes flickered downward, he immediately remembered Ron's words from earlier. Changes – wow, he's not kidding. Wizarding robes hide a lot.
He averted his gaze before he could be accused of ogling. His eyes met Ginny's of deepest brown and she smiled warmly at him. Her face lit up and Harry's stomach flipped strangely.
He wasn't as concerned, though, by his body's strange reactions. They were becoming quite frequent. It seemed that since he first noticed Cho Chang in his 3rd year that some kind of switch had been flicked on in his brain. One day they were girls, and the next they were Girls. He had noticed most of the Girls at Hogwarts at one time or another, including Hermione, so this was nothing unusual. It doesn't mean anything. Cho was the only girl he'd ever really fancied. So the sudden realization that Ginny Weasley was becoming quite pretty didn't bother him. So she was cute; he wasn't about to proclaim his undying love for her.
He turned back to Ron. "Okay, Umbridge, Trelawney. Anything else?"
"Nothing that we can really tell you, but look, here we have two Order members in our very midst," he said, glaring pointedly at Fred and George.
"D'you hear that, George?" Fred asked, cupping his ear with his hand.
George copied the motion. "Why yes, I do."
"It sounds like our dear mother is calling us for dinner."
"Yes, it does. That is, after all, the reason why we were sent up here to our favorite little brother's room."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Fine. Don't tell us anything. Oh, speaking of Umbridge, that reminds me," Ron said as he went to the closet in his room. "Dumbledore brought this by for you. Said you'd probably be wanting it back." He came back carrying a familiar broom which he held out for Harry.
"My Firebolt – thanks," Harry said softly, cursing the sudden lump in his throat. What was wrong with him? Why did every little thing make him want to cry?
Fred smiled sadly, as if sensing Harry's sudden shift in mood. He and George made to leave. "Right, well. Dinner." And with one last sympathetic glance at Harry, the redheaded twins left the room.
Ginny stood up. "Good. I'm starving." She flashed Harry a bright smile. "So we'll leave you to get freshened up and we'll meet you downstairs then." And she shot such strong looks to the other two that even Ron couldn't mistake her meaning.
Harry glanced down at the Firebolt in his hands. His first gift from his godfather, who had been alive the last time he'd seen the broom.
"Yeah," he croaked and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'll meet you in a few." He sent a grateful smile to Ginny as she, Ron and Hermione left the room, leaving him alone with his memories of Sirius.