After Ron left, nothing else was said about the prophesy. Krum's retired to his room: the floor above Harry and Ron's, and a couple of doors down. It turned out that Sasha and Oliver would be staying at headquarters, to better serve the order. They took the room next to Harry and Ron's. Unfortunately, Ron was quite upset, and the new members could clearly hear what was being said in the next room.
"Who does he think he is?" an irritated Ron, pacing the room, asked Harry. "He honestly thinks that Hermione is his true love?"
"You don't?" Harry asked him.
Ron stopped pacing and looked at his best friend. For a moment he seemed at a loss for words. Harry shrugged it off.
"So do you believe the prophesy?" he asked Ron.
"How can you believe something like that? What if it's a fake?" Ron asked angrily.
Harry just looked at him. Ron understood immediately what was on his mind.
"I'm sorry," the red head mumbled, "I didn't mean –"
"It's okay," Harry interrupted, "forget about it."
"Are you sure?" Ron asked.
"Positive," Harry replied with a smile, although he wasn't sure he was okay. Ron only knew that Harry knew about a prophesy between the young Potter and Voldemort, but not what it contained. And Harry wasn't keen on disclosing that information to one of his closest friends. He knew how Ron would react.
Ron was sitting on his own bed, tired of pacing the room, staring out of the single window, lost in thought. He looked like he wanted to duel someone. Or kiss someone. Eager to know what was on his mind, Harry asked a very touchy question.
"You're jealous of him, aren't you?"
Ron whipped around, with a look on his face as though he was caught in the middle. "What are you talking about?" he tried to dismiss, but Harry could see right through him now.
"You're jealous of Krum! Because you know that Dumbledore is going to make him save Hermione," Harry began. Ron huffed, as though what Harry was saying was ridiculous, but didn't stop him, so Harry went on. "But you know you want to save her and act the hero!" he exclaimed, his voice rising, and causing Ron to jump off the bed, red in the face.
But before Ron could say anything more, the door banged open and in came the twins.
"Ron, a hero?" George said.
"That can't be," Fred added.
"Unless it has something to do with that girl –"
"Oh yeah! The girl! It must have something to do with her," Fred said, giving Ron a sly look.
"You two are crazy," Ron said, flustered at having his brothers pry and poke at his personal life.
"Are we?" they asked in unison.
Ron looked at Harry for support, but was unable to have any, because Harry was laughing so hard on his bed, that even standing up would be near impossible. Now irritated even more, Ron pushed past his brothers, who were now themselves dissolved in laughter, and out into the hall. He slammed the door behind them and sought some peace and quiet in the drawing room.
In a matter of minutes the laughing subsided, and as Harry sat up, breathless, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," he gasped, and in walked Oliver, hand-in-hand with Sasha.
"Nice place you got here," she commented, looking around the barren room.
"Yeah," Oliver agreed, "its way roomier than ours is."
By this time, the twins had regained their composure and were eyeing up Miss Hughes. Oliver gave the two pranksters a warning look and said, "Don't even think about it."
Pretending to be hurt, the twins frowned. Sasha laughed.
"You haven't seen the half of it," Harry told her.
"Speaking of halves," Oliver said, "where did your other one go?"
"Who? Ron?" Harry asked, and Oliver nodded. "I don't know, he just left."
"No wonder," Sasha said, "you were probably making him feel horrible."
"He really does have a crush on her, doesn't he?" Oliver asked.
"He's had a crush on her for how long now?" Fred asked sarcastically.
"I'd say four, maybe five years," George replied thoughtfully.
"Or longer," Harry mumbled, mainly to himself.
"What?" Sasha asked him.
"Oh," Harry said, surprised that anyone heard him. "I think he's liked her since the first day."
"But why would he pretend all this time?" George asked.
"Because I didn't want you guys teasing me about it," Ron replied from the door.
"So you admit you like her?" Fred asked, a mischievous smile coming to his lips.
Ron frowned. "Honestly, I don't think 'like' is the right word."
All the boys went quiet as Sasha exclaimed, "Aww! That's so sweet!"
"What's sweet?" asked Ginny, who entered the room.
"How Ron feels about Hermione," Sasha replied.
"He's felt that way forever," Ginny said, just as sarcastically as her twin brothers.
"Shut up, Ginny," Ron warned, frowning at her.
Ginny shrugged and turned to leave. Just as she stepped out into the hall, she turned round. "Mum says dinner's ready."
The twins, hungry after a hard day at work, jumped up and followed their little sister. Oliver and Harry followed suit, leaving Ron and Sasha alone.
"Are you okay, kid?" she asked, eyeing him sympathetically.
"Yeah," he said, not looking up at her.
"Want my advice?" she asked.
Finally he looked up at her. "Sure."
"Don't be too jealous of Viktor."
He frowned. "Why not?"
She smiled as she answered. "One, it's not attractive, and two," she leaned closer to him, "he'll fight back."
As Ron sat there she winked and turned around. Just as she got to the door, he followed her out and down to the kitchen.
Dinner was an uneventful affair that night, and by the next week dinner was rarely a group activity. With the twins working and the Order members bustling around doing whatever it was they did, the Hogwarts students spent the lazy summer days in the library researching, or simply sitting around, talking about everything and nothing. It was very lonely without Hermione, and the boys were soon tired of Ginny's company, and Ginny, theirs.
On a rainy Thursday, three days before Harry's birthday, Mrs. Weasley entered the drawing room where Ron, Harry, Ginny, Viktor, and Oliver were sitting around, enjoying the warmth of the house. As she entered, Viktor and Ginny looked up from their books. She gave them a warm smile, which was returned.
"Lunch is ready in the kitchen," she announced.
Ron looked up from his chess game with Oliver. "Can't we eat up here, like yesterday?" he asked.
Mrs. Weasley's kind smile grew. "We have guests today, and I'd like you all to eat with us."
As Mrs. Weasley left the room, Ron sighed. "We've never had to eat with other new members," he said, "what's so different about today?"
"Maybe it isn't a new member," Ginny replied, placing her book back on the shelf of the tall, mahogany bookshelves.
Ron looked at her as though she was losing her mind. She shrugged, and led the boys down to the kitchen. As they neared the wide doors, they heard a familiar woman's voice.
"Oh, thank you Molly," it said, "you are truly an angel."
"Oh, no," Mrs. Weasley replied, "I'm just happy to help."
The group of young adults entered the kitchen, receiving a shock to see a stout classmate of theirs sitting at the table. He was beside an elderly woman who was wearing the infamous vulture-topped hat.
"Neville!" the three Hogwarts students exclaimed, as the stout boy's face shone with happiness.
"Hi, guys," he replied cheerfully, as the three classmates sat down on his other side.
"How have you been, mate?" Harry asked.
Suddenly Neville's face fell. "Not so good," he replied, now looking at his shoes.
"His family was murdered by Death Eaters," Mrs. Weasley explained quietly, as she set down a tray of tea in front of their guests.
"Oh, Neville," Ginny said, putting her hand on his, which were clasped upon the table, "I'm so sorry."
Neville sniffed. "It's not your fault," he said, looking up at her and the others, "if anything, its mine."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, the sympathetic look on his face being replaced with a look of confusion.
"Well, if I had only been there, I could have fought them off," he said, this time locking eyes with Harry. "You had taught me enough that I could handle anything, Harry."
Harry sighed. "Don't blame yourself, it wasn't your fault."
"That's some advice you could use yourself," said a voice from the doorway. "It wasn't your fault that Sirius died. No matter how much you try to blame it on yourself," Sasha said, coming to sit across from the green-eyed teenager.
Harry sighed. He knew she was right, that all of them were right. He wanted to blame Sirius' death on someone, and that someone just so happened to be himself.
Mrs. Weasley interrupted them, shooing the underage wizards out of the kitchen. Harry and Ron took Neville up to their room, where he would be staying with them. In a matter of minutes, they had filled him in on what exactly the Order was. Neville seemed to understand, and so the boys spoke of other things. The subject of murders remained untouched, and if any mention of murders was touched, it was quickly stifled.
So the days passed, and on Harry and Neville's birthday (they decided to celebrate at the same time), a feast was prepared in the gloomy kitchen of Number Twelve. Many witches and wizards from the Order came to share in the celebrations, and it seemed as if the night would never end. As the night dwindled into the wee hours of the morning, Lupin pulled Harry aside.
"I don't really want to spoil your evening," he began, "but tomorrow we have some business to discuss."
"What kind of business?" Harry asked.
Lupin was quiet for a moment, as though pondering whether to tell Harry the whole truth.
As loud hoots of laughter erupted behind them, Lupin replied quietly, "Just be emotionally prepared for tomorrow. And get some sleep."
Harry gave him a confused look, but before either of them could elaborate, they heard a shout from Ron.
"C'mon Harry! It is your party after all!"
With one last glance and smile at Lupin, Harry returned to the festivities.