Disclaimer: Accio Harry Potter Rights! Damn, that didn't work. I guess I still don't own the rights to Harry Potter.
Chapter 69
Twenty-four hours later, Harry and Hermione found themselves in the former's bedroom at Twelve Grimmauld Place. They had spent the better part of the morning chipping away at the mountains of summer assignments they had to complete by the first of September, but after Harry's vision began swimming with runes and dates from his History of Magic textbook, they agreed to take a break.
Harry was rifling through his trunk looking for some extra bottles of ink in case he depleted his supply over the next few days while Hermione was perched on the edge of his bed, gazing thoughtfully at the posters on the wall.
"I like that picture," She pointed to the enlarged photograph of the Gryffindor Gang in their second year, following an early Quidditch practice on a Saturday morning. In the picture, Hermione was visibly exhausted and had taken to unconsciously – or had it been conscious? Harry thought amusedly – leaning into Harry so that her back was pressed against his chest and he had instinctively wrapped an arm around her. The other Gryffindors in their year surrounded them and were all sporting gigantic smiles.
"I like it too," Harry glanced up and grinned at his former self and his friends. "The good old days, when our biggest problem was a fifty-foot snake that lived in a girls' bathroom," He snickered under his breath.
"The good old days," Hermione echoed with a giggle, tucking one of her legs underneath her as she turned to his bedside table, grabbing the photo album she had given him for Christmas in their third year and flipping through it. "You still keep this by your bedside?"
"I look at it all the time," He answered automatically, still perusing his trunk's contents.
"I'm glad to hear that," She smiled softly, tracing the spine with her finger as she looked at the photos. "My mum wants us to send her plenty of pictures, by the way."
"Still got your magic Polaroid?" Harry glanced up and grinned as Hermione nodded. "Then that can be arranged. We really owe Parvati for that, don't we?"
"We do," Hermione nodded absent-mindedly. "What are you looking for?" She tilted her head as if just realizing that he was combing the inside of his trunk.
"Extra ink," He shrugged, extracting a few articles of clothing and tossing them onto his bed. "I figure with the five thousand essays that McGonagall is making us do, I'll probably need it," He chuckled wryly as he stared with furrowed eyebrows at his trunk, which seemed to be destitute regarding ink.
"Mm-hmm," Hermione hummed distractedly. "I'll be right back."
Harry looked up, confused, but she had already slipped off the bed and was striding to the door. "Are you alright?"
"Great!" She turned around and beamed before slipping out of his room and closing the door behind her. Harry was fairly certain she had been holding something behind her back and out of his line of sight, but she had left before he could get a good look. Frowning, he stood up, but she called from the other side of the door that she would be back in a minute. He shrugged and spun on his heel, deciding to place the items that he had haphazardly thrown about back into his trunk. Just as he had folded up a pair of jeans that was starting to get too small for him, the door behind him creaked open.
"You sure you're alright?" Harry smirked as he placed the jeans back in his trunk and closed the lid with his foot. "For a second I thought you were mad at me because I didn't say Professor…" He trailed off as he turned around. His eyes threatened to bulge out of his skull as they widened and his mouth began doing its best impression of the Sahara Desert as he took in the sight in front of him. "Merlin…" He muttered in a hoarse whisper.
"It's Professor McGonagall, Harry, not Professor Merlin," Hermione gave him a teasing smirk that caused his knees to wobble. "Are you feeling alright?" She added, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms.
"That's…" He cleared his throat, giving himself a little shake. "That's my jersey," He said in a voice that was still on the squeaky side. "My jersey. My jersey for Quidditch. The jersey tailored specifically for me to play Quidditch. My jersey." He suddenly realized he was rambling and snapped his mouth shut.
Hermione was leaning against the doorframe, still wearing the gray track pants she had been wearing when she left his room a few moments prior, but her baby blue jumper had been replaced with his Quidditch jersey. Even though all he could see was the scarlet front emblazoned with the crest of Gryffindor just below the left shoulder, he knew that his surname was stitched on the back in gold letters just above the number seven.
"Well spotted," She said coquettishly, standing up straight. Although Harry by no means towered over Hermione, he still had an inch or two on her in height and her frame was noticeably slimmer than his. The sleeves of the jersey – which barely reached halfway to Harry's elbows – just brushed the crooks of Hermione's arms, and the shirt's hem ended well below her hips. "What do you think?" She stepped into his room and gave a little twirl, flourishing her arms above her head and giggling at her own antics.
"Wow…" Harry blinked, nodding dumbly as Hermione met his eyes once again. He was drawing a complete blank at how to adequately describe the sight of his girlfriend wearing his jersey. It was…something. His heart swelled with affection the longer he looked, and as she bit her lip and clasped her hands behind her back expectantly he nearly fainted. "You look…" He raised his eyebrows and felt a sort of growl escape his throat, to which Hermione's cheeks tinged pink and she smiled shyly. "What…what made you…why? Why?"
"Well…" She bit her lip once again and stared bashfully down at her feet. "Don't laugh, okay?"
"I won't."
"My parents made me get my teeth checked on the first day back from the holidays, remember?" She lifted her head and Harry nodded. "Well, while I was waiting in their office, all of the good magazines were taken, so…" She trailed off, and Harry tilted his head in confusion. "I had to read another silly teen magazine. You know, like Witch Weekly for Muggles."
"Ah," Harry crossed his arms, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. "Is this the same magazine that told you it was alright to steal my food all the time?"
"Hey!" She protested, reaching over and half-heartedly shoving him in the chest.
"Is it?" Harry raised his eyebrows, and Hermione's blush deepened until it matched the jersey she was wearing. She mumbled something incoherent as she averted her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that," He chuckled at the sudden reversal of roles; somehow he had gone from the flustered one to the smug one between the two of them within seconds.
"It is," She huffed, meeting his eye and trying to glower at him, which only made his smile widen.
"So, this magazine is encouraging you to steal my clothes and my food?" He teased, eliciting a fierce eye-roll from the girl in front of him. "You're turning into quite the criminal with all this thievery."
"Well, it's only fair," She fired back, her coquettish demeanor returning as she stepped towards him. "You started it."
"I started it?" Harry repeated incredulously. "I'm fairly certain I've never stolen any of your food, and I definitely haven't swiped any of your clothes."
"No, you haven't," Hermione murmured, snaking her arms around his neck. "But you stole my heart ages ago," She whispered as she leaned in, her breath hot enough on his lips. Harry barely fought off the urge to roll his eyes; he opened his mouth to tease her for saying something so tacky when she cut him off with a tender kiss that rendered his brain completely useless.
He had only a few seconds to lift a hand to cup her cheek and reciprocate before a shrill, almost ear-piercing sound rang up from downstairs. The two startled teenagers leapt apart, and Hermione looked particularly miffed that they had been interrupted. Harry frowned and walked over to open his bedroom door, unconsciously giving Hermione's hand a quick squeeze as he walked past. He slipped into the corridor and strode over to the landing, resting his forearms on the ebony banister of the staircase and leaning over in hopes of calling out to Sirius. His godfather, however, seemed equally displeased with the sharp sound that had just echoed throughout the house.
"Fucking hell, that doorbell could wake up my dead mother," The Marauder grumbled as he entered the entrance hall from the kitchen. Harry heard Hermione tiptoe over to his side and she leaned over the railing next to him, her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.
"What was that?" She whispered to Harry.
"Doorbell," He whispered, but he held a finger over his lips, and the two of them listened intently.
"Who in their right mind is ringing my – Tonks?" Sirius groaned as he opened the front door. Harry leaned over the railing just enough to make out the Auror's familiar shock of pink hair.
"Sorry!" She exclaimed immediately, bounding into the house straight past Sirius. "I honestly just wanted to see if it worked. When you said the Order was going to use a secret knock to get in, I figured the doorbell was broken."
"No, tragically it works too well," Sirius sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed the front door. "What brings you here?"
"Thought I'd work out with Harry," Tonks said brightly. "We had to cut our run short yesterday so that our favorite teenaged lovebirds could reunite, so I'd thought he and I could take a longer than usual run this afternoon."
Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands and letting his shoulders sag. Tonks's idea of a short run rarely dipped below five kilometers; he did not want to think about what sort of hell a longer one would be like.
"Not a fan of running?" Hermione asked, nudging him with her elbow. He let out a dejected sigh and she grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the landing. "Come on."
"What? Why?" He asked as she dragged him back into his bedroom, but she said nothing. She closed the door behind them and promptly spun them so that her back was to the bed and he was standing in front of her.
"Do you trust me?"
"Of course," He blinked. "Wait, are you going to get me out of running with Tonks?" The hopefulness in his voice was quite noticeable.
"If you want me to," She offered a playful smile, and Harry's heart swelled with affection for the second time that afternoon.
"Have I ever told you that I'm in love with you?" He grinned. She winked and pulled him in for a quick kiss before stepping back. The back of her legs collided with the side of his bed and she sat down. She immediately leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of Harry's hoodie, much to his surprise. He felt his pulse skyrocket as she pulled him closer, the mischievous smile on her face widening as she opened her legs enough for him to stand between them. She promptly wrapped them around his back and fluttered her eyelashes up at him, the impish smile on her face never faltering.
"This is new," He squeaked out in a high-pitched voice. Hermione let out a giggle at his lack of tact and dragged her hands up to the collar of his shirt, tugging him downwards. He leaned his head down met her lips, his eyes slowly closing as he lost himself in a slow, relaxed kiss. He drifted one of his hands down to rest atop Hermione's thigh as it wrapped tighter around his waist, his other hand making itself at home at the back of her neck.
She ran her tongue along his lips and his hand instinctively tightened on her thigh, eliciting a surprised gasp. Harry capitalized and took the lead on the kiss, causing her to sigh blissfully into his mouth and move her hands from his collar to his hair, making it look even untidier than usual.
He vaguely heard footsteps coming up the stairs, but he did not possess the strength to pull away. Hermione moaned as the kiss continued, the sound doing things to Harry's nervous system that he did not think were previously possible. Hesitantly, he dragged the hand on her thigh upwards, vowing to himself to not go any further than halfway to her waist. He barely fended off the urge to grin triumphantly when she let out another moan as his fingers danced across her track pants. Her legs curled even tighter around him, pulling him flush against her and forcing her to lean backwards to maintain their passionate kissing.
"Who's ready to run and – dear Merlin!"
Harry broke away from the kiss and whipped his head around. He had clearly been too distracted to notice his bedroom door opening, but he would need to be deaf to have not heard Tonks cry out in surprise at the sight before her. Harry turned and glanced down and realized that he and Hermione were in quite the compromising position, with her legs around his waist and his hand gripping her thigh. Not to mention the fact that his shirt and hair looked as if he had just lost a fight with a tornado, on top of the fact that Hermione was wearing his Quidditch jersey.
Tonks stood petrified in the doorway, her hands over her mouth and her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as her hair slowly turned to a crimson hue that matched the blush on her cheeks.
"Tonks," Hermione said in a perfectly calm voice, and a part of Harry wondered how she could be so composed after such an intense snogging session, "do you mind?"
"I'm so sorry!" She gasped, stumbling backwards. "I…er…"
Harry finally cleared his thoughts enough hold a finger up to his lips and jerk his head to the side, gesturing for the Auror to leave. She nodded, nearly tripping over her own feet as she backpedaled out of the room and slammed the door closed.
"You're welcome," Hermione said in a lilting voice from below him. Grinning, he turned back to face her and saw that she was sporting a smug smile. He just shook his head in disbelief, staring down at her in awe.
"You're amazing," He whispered. "You got me out of running and Tonks will probably be too embarrassed to tease us for at least the next couple of days."
"Mmm…" Hermione nodded thoughtfully, lacing her fingers behind Harry's neck. "How will you ever thank me for being such an amazing girlfriend?"
"I'll let you keep my Quidditch jersey?" He offered.
"That's a good start," She hummed, licking her lips.
"And I'll let you snog my brains out?"
"Much better," She giggled, pulling him down into a much less languid, much more intense round of kissing. At one point, Hermione had ended up completely on her back and Harry had crawled onto the bed on top of her. At a later point, the Boy-Who-Lived had ended up on his back with Hermione straddling his lap as she kissed him senseless. At a much later point, when the golden hue of the sunset that shone through his window was replaced with the darkness of nightfall, they were both lying on the bed, their shoes discarded on the floor and their arms wrapped around each other.
"You did it," Harry finally broke their content silence as he nuzzled into her neck, planting a kiss on her soft skin that caused a surprised but pleased sigh to escape her swollen lips. "I think my brain is completely fried thanks to your snogging. I can't even think straight now."
"Oh, you poor thing," She giggled, rolling onto her side and pillowing her head on his chest.
"I mean, I don't really mind," He shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. "You're brilliant enough for the both of us."
"Keep up the flattery and I'm going to snog your remaining brain cells out of existence," She murmured as Harry pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.
For the first time since Tonks had walked in on them earlier, the sound of footsteps ascending the staircase reached Harry's ears. Groaning, he extricated himself from Hermione's arms and sat up straight, fighting the urge to snicker as Hermione muttered indignantly under her breath and hopped off the bed, using his mirror to try and straighten her hair.
A few moments later, the sound of someone knocking on Harry's bedroom door rang out.
"See how it's done?" Sirius chuckled from the other side of the door.
"How was I supposed to know that – never mind," Tonks huffed.
"You can come in," Harry called out, smirking as Sirius strolled in followed by a very reluctant Tonks. "Sirius. Tonks," He greeted them.
"Hello, you two," Sirius took a seat at Harry's desk chair. "Nice jersey, Hermione. Looks a little big on you, though."
"What's up?" Harry cleared his throat, hoping to draw attention away from Hermione's prominent blush and the even more prominent marks that were starting to form on her neck.
"Dinner's ready. Lupin's downstairs; he brought pizzas and he's setting everything up now."
"Brilliant," Harry grinned. "We'll be right down."
"Great," Sirius winked. "Hope you didn't mind my bringing Tonks along. Apparently, she decided to forget how to knock multiple times today."
"If this weren't your house, I'd hex the hell out of you," She grumbled, her hair turning crimson again. "I'll see you lot downstairs." She turned on her heel and strode out of the room. Sirius pushed himself to his feet and quickly cast a few Episkeys on both of them before exiting the bedroom.
After Hermione had thrown a jumper over her jersey – she stubbornly insisted that she wanted to keep wearing it, for reasons unknown to Harry – the pair of teenagers descended the staircase and entered the kitchen, only to freeze in surprise at the number of people already there.
It was more than Lupin, Tonks, and Sirius, and the kitchen table had been magically elongated to accompany them all. Several witches and wizards Harry did not recognize were sitting or standing about, as well as a few he did know. Professor McGonagall was standing off to the side with a glass of what looked like ale in her hand; she gave Harry and Hermione a curt nod but said nothing. Sitting down alone at the table was none other than Severus Snape, who was staring down into an empty glass as if making eye contact with someone was near the bottom of the list of things he wanted to do. Sitting near the far end of the table were Mr. Weasley – whom Harry had not seen since the Quidditch World Cup – and Mrs. Weasley – whom Harry had not seen since King's Cross in September of his second year. Standing behind them was their eldest son Bill, who caught Harry's eye and winked.
"What's happening?" Hermione whispered, and Harry almost smacked himself on the forehead in realization.
"Tonight's the first meeting," He whispered. "Of the Order of the Phoenix."
"Oh!" Hermione gasped, grabbing his arm excitedly. "That's amazing! Look at all these people!"
"Sirius," Mad-Eye growled from a corner, "what are Potter and Granger doing here?"
"They live here, Alastor, I'm not about to starve them," Sirius said plainly as he grabbed two plates and walked over to Harry and Hermione. "Hurry up and grab some pizza, I think Dedalus Diggle is going to eat all the pepperoni slices soon," He whispered, throwing them a wink.
"Harry! Hermione!" Mr. Weasley finally noticed the two teenagers. "How are you two?" He leapt to his feet and made his way over to them. "Good to see you both. Good holiday so far?"
"Great," Harry answered, shaking the redhead's outstretched hand.
"Wonderful!" He grinned, turning and gesturing to the half dozen pizza boxes lining the kitchen table. "Now, Sirius tells me that this is a rather common delicacy for Muggles, is it not?"
"Pretty common, yeah," Harry smirked. "Have you really never heard of pizza?"
"Never," He shook his head, staring at a half-eaten plain pie with wonder. "Does one use cutlery to eat it? It looks like it can be rather messy."
"Some people do," Hermione answered, exchanging amused glances with Harry, "but most people just use their hands. Here, like this," she leaned forward and placed a plain slice on her plate and took a bite. "Have you had any yet?"
"Oh no, not yet," Mr. Weasley shook his head. "I'm not sure what to try. They're all adorned with various things, it's quite confusing."
Harry and Hermione happily helped the Weasley patriarch sample a few different types of pizza before he settled on a vegetable-laden pie and sat back down with his wife and son.
"Imagine going all the way into adulthood without knowing what pizza is," Harry shook his head in disbelief as he chowed down on a slice of pepperoni.
"Sirius?" Moody cleared his throat and lumbered out from his corner. He walked over to Sirius, who was leaning against the wall and chatting away with Lupin. "The kids have eaten now."
"Clearly you don't live with a teenager if you think one slice of pizza is enough dinner for them," The Marauder in question chuckled. "Why are bringing that up, anyway? You want me to kick my godson out, is that it?" His voice suddenly hardened, and the conversation amidst the other members of the Order died down instantly.
Moody looked surprisingly uncomfortable as his magical eye glanced between Harry, Hermione, and Sirius. "They're underage."
"I know how old my godson is, thank you," Sirius said coolly, grabbing a bottle of ale off the shelf and pouring himself a glass. "Minerva, refill?" He turned to the Transfiguration teacher, who awkwardly shook her head.
"Sirius, the kids have to go," A dark-skinned man Harry vaguely recognized spoke. He was sitting next to Tonks, and the two of them had been in deep conversation until now. "Dumbledore was very clear about underaged wizards, and he was even clearer about Potter."
"Wait, what?" Harry turned to Sirius, who didn't even glance at him.
"If anyone deserves to know, it's the kid named Harry Potter," Sirius's tone remained dogged. "If it wasn't for the kid standing over there, we wouldn't even know Voldemort had returned."
Several of the witches and wizards at the table flinched at the use of the Dark Lord's name.
"He's not an adult, Sirius." Harry was surprised to see that Mrs. Weasley was the next person to speak up.
"Well, he's certainly not a child," He fired back nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. "Oh, wow, this is good stuff. Minerva, are you sure you don't want a refill? Haven't had stuff this good since my sixth year at Hogwarts…"
"Sirius, can you please be…" Moody trailed off, and Harry and Sirius finally made eye contact and they both grinned.
"You were about to say this was serious, weren't you?" The Marauder snorted. "'Sirius, can you please be serious?'" He growled in a surprisingly good impression of Moody. "Oh, that's too funny."
"Sirius," Another wizard Harry didn't recognize spoke up, "we could have a war on our hands, perhaps we can make puns and laugh amongst ourselves later?"
"Oh please, when was the last time you laughed about anything, Podmore?" Sirius's expression turned solemn again. "Look, I'm not saying we induct the kids into the Order, but I think these two in particular have earned a right to know what we're doing."
"Dumbledore was crystal clear –"
"Dumbledore is not Harry's godfather, Molly," Sirius cut the Weasley matriarch off. "And you are not his mother."
"Sirius, they can't be here," Moody sighed, gripping his walking staff in a white-knuckled grip.
"I don't get it, really," Sirius ignored the ex-Auror. "Age seems like a rather arbitrary factor to determine whether or not somebody is qualified to join the Order. There's only one person in this room who's faced Voldemort and he's the youngest one in here."
"Padfoot, please," Harry was stunned when Lupin tried to quiet his fellow Marauder.
"He's faced Voldemort three times, did you all know that?" Sirius continued, unfazed by Lupin. "Three times! How many times have you faced Voldemort, Alastor? How about you, Molly? Arthur? Kingsley? Tonks? Sturgis? And somehow, all of you still don't think he ought to be in the know. In fact, the only person in the room that has even seen Voldemort besides Harry has the fucking Dark Mark on his arm!"
"Padfoot, that's enough!" Lupin's voice was the clearest as several voices rang out in protest.
"Nice to see your arrogance has not faded thanks to the dementors, Black," Snape sneered, standing up and locking eyes with Sirius.
"You would know all about dementors, wouldn't you Snivellus, considering you dress like one every damn day?"
"Enough!" Lupin drew his wand and conjured a firecracker that promptly exploded, the ensuing BANG silencing everyone in the room. "Padfoot, they have to leave."
"What?" Harry protested, his jaw dropping. "But –"
"Harry, Hermione, it's time for you two to go. Now," Their former professor sheathed his wand, his tone emotionless. "Dumbledore has given us explicit orders that you are not to be a part of the Order of the Phoenix, and he was even clearer in stating that we are not to tell you anything about what goes on here in these meetings. We've humored you and Sirius, but that's over now. Upstairs, both of you."
"You're joking!" Harry stepped further into the kitchen in open defiance of Lupin. He turned pleadingly to Sirius. A tense silence ensued for a few seconds.
"I'll walk you up," Sirius sighed, grabbing a box of plain pizza that had yet to be touched. "At least you won't be starving up there."
"Sirius…" Harry felt his shoulders sag in defeat. "You said…"
"I said I was working on it," Sirius cut him off. "I tried, Harry. I really did. Come on."
He grabbed Harry by the arm and guided him out of the kitchen, Hermione meekly following them. As soon as they were in the entrance hall, Sirius released Harry and drew his wand from the pocket of his jacket. With a few flicks of his wrist, the door to the kitchen closed and what Harry recognized as several Privacy Charms had been cast.
"Do you think they bought it?" He winked, placing his wand back in his pocket and handing the pizza box to a speechless Harry. "I think they did. Wasn't Moony brilliant? Honestly, I reckon Dumbledore only made him Prefect in our fifth year because he was the best liar out of the four of us. Something about the way he rarely shows any emotion…Merlin, he's brilliant."
"What is happening?" Hermione asked the question that was bouncing around Harry's brain. "What are you…are you saying that was an act?"
"Oh, absolutely. We had to fool the rest of them," Sirius threw his head back and laughed. "Honestly, you really think I would let anyone tell me how to handle my own godson? In my own house? Don't you know who I am?"
"So, what's going on then?" Harry frowned. "Why do we have to leave?"
"Glad you asked," Sirius winked, reaching into his pocket and handing what he pulled out to Hermione.
"Is this a mirror?" She examined it closely as if looking for something notable.
"Yes, but it's not just a mirror," Sirius said with a grin. "Harry, your dad and I made these when we were in school so we could talk to each other when we were in separate detentions. Check it out," He pulled an identical mirror out of his pocket and looked into it. "James Potter," He said clearly.
Instantly, Hermione's reflection in the mirror she was holding vanished, replaced with the smug face of one Sirius Black.
"What do you think?" He chuckled, placing the mirror back in his pocket. "I thought of it yesterday, right before you left for your run. As soon as you started talking about detention, it hit me. This," he pointed to the mirror in Hermione's hands, "is my way around the promise I made to Dumbledore. I swore two things to Dumbledore: to not to tell you lot anything about what happens in meetings like the one we're about to have, and to make sure you two don't join the Order. I'm technically not telling you anything that goes on in the meetings, and you two are definitely not members of the Order. I am just happening to leave this mirror in my pocket by accident, and whether or not you two inadvertently listen in on what you hear is completely out of my hands. Sound good?"
Not waiting for an answer, he spun on his heel and walked back to the kitchen. He wrenched open the door, and Harry glanced in and saw Lupin throw him a wink before the door was closed a second later, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in the entrance hall.
"Wow…" Hermione whispered, staring in awe at the mirror before nudging Harry. "Come on! We should take notes!"
She dashed up the stairs, and Harry snapped out of his daze and followed her up. Grinning to himself, he admired his godfather's ability to stretch the rules to their absolute limit.
A/N: Ah, wasn't this a fun day? I think it was. I hope I didn't anger any of you with the little show that Sirius and Lupin put on and make you all think that I was reverting to canon levels of shunning Harry and his friends. Nope. Not one bit.
Anyway, I've been waiting on doing the classic 'Hermione wears Harry's Quidditch jersey' bit for a while. I almost had him give her his Triwizard Tournament jersey after the First Task but ultimately decided against it and decided to do it here for a nice dash of teenaged romance. Because, you know, it's not like I'm writing a story that's literally about teenaged romance with a side of Harry Potter.
Only one reference: the bit where Harry rambles about Hermione wearing his jersey is inspired by the famous 'Kuzco's Poison' rant from The Emperor's New Groove.
I'm fairly certain that my idea of using the mirrors to eavesdrop on Order meetings has not been done before, but if it has, I am sorry. I do not wish to plagiarize or copy anyone else's work, that is not my intention whatsoever.
To my wonderful, amazing, brilliant readers, thank you all for everything. Writing this chapter was a ray of light in a stretch of days in which I was swamped by schoolwork and then forced to quarantine in my dorm room because several people on my floor have tested positive for COVID-19. I do not have the virus, don't worry, but unfortunately I am condemned to not being able to leave my dorm room besides going to the bathroom for the next several days. It's pretty stressful to have that on top of school, so I really appreciate you all being patient with my story and not badgering me with requests to update when I go more than twenty-four hours without posting a chapter. Thank you all, and stay safe!