One Step Closer

Chapter 56

The crash of the waves and the tang of the salty sea were quite comforting to Harry, having gotten used to it every day in the rundown shack. A girl living with him, however, was not something he could get used to.

It had been more than a few weeks since he and Demelza had escaped the lone Death Eater who had tracked them to the Muggle hospital. While Harry's leg was getting better, it was still in a cast, as it would need to be for another fortnight or so – which also meant that Demelza was in dire need of clothes and in no way of getting them, stuck here as they were. She had had nothing on her but her wand and the clothes on her back when Harry saved her from those Death Eaters.

Harry had reluctantly asked Twitchet to accompany Demelza, even though he felt uneasy letting her off his sight. No matter how cute he thought she looked in his t-shirts, they were two sizes too big and she did not appreciate having to stay in his clothes, even though they were magically washed and ironed by Twitchet.

And she needed things… 'lady things' in her words and Harry had jumped to hand her a wad of muggle money without further ado.

He had almost been hoping his weird time lapses would happen again and he would drift off while she was gone and it would probably feel like a few seconds to him before she was back. But no such luck.

He was stuck in the couch with no ability to pace and vent his anxiety for four long hours. Why would someone take so long to just buy clothes?

Harry might have started another fight with her when she returned and it resulted in both of them yelling their heads off and then not speaking for hours on end.

This was a regular occurrence by now, both of them finding ways to pick at each other for even the silliest things such as having left the window open all night or who got to sleep in the single bedroom upstairs.

In retrospect, Harry could not comprehend how suggesting Demelza to take the bed while he slept on the couch instead could have had disastrous effects.

"Oh, so the Chosen One wants to prove he is chivalrous after all? Too late, Potter!" snapped Demelza, going back to the book she was reading while sitting cross-legged on the couch and completely ignoring him.

Harry bristled and threw up his hands in indignation. "Was that a crime? What is wrong with asking a girl to take the bed instead of me?"

"I'm fine with the couch, thank you. Wouldn't want to listen to another tirade of how I'm the cause of your injured leg not healing sooner or something."

"I'm not the one here who keeps whingeing for every bloody thing," grumbled Harry.

"You know you do, Potter," she retorted, closing the book. "You've reminded me more than the number of days I've been in this place that you regret bringing me here—"

"—because all you've done is ask me the same unnecessary questions…"

"—and you never give a proper answer—"

"…even though I have answered them…"

"—well, your answers are lame—"

"…and you insist you know better! Why should I answer you when I didn't even answer my own family?" finished Harry loudly.

Demelza drew back in anger (and was that hurt he could see in her eyes?), casting aside the book and crossing her arms over herself defensively.

The momentary silence was broken when she whispered, "Let me out of here."

Harry glared at her. "Trust me, I wish I could. But it's out of the question."

Demelza's eyes narrowed and her lips thinned. "I hate you."

Without waiting for an answer, she turned about and stomped up the staircase before slamming the lone bedroom door shut.

Well, why-the-bloody-hell hadn't she done that sooner?

Muttering under his breath, Harry limped towards the window, the humid breeze slapping across his face while he tried to ignore her parting words ringing in his ears. It was a long time before he decided to get some sleep and he huddled into the couch, propping up his injured leg on the arm of the couch.

He had wasted weeks doing nothing and it frustrated him to be unable to move around as freely as he used to. He knew Demelza was right on one thing – Harry had taken out his irritation on her unnecessarily. But that was only because he was right too – if he hadn't saved her, he could have been making progress with the horcruxes instead of dealing with constant fights with her every single day.

Maybe, he ought to let her off but Harry could not do so without modifying her memories. And the longer she stayed with him, the more difficult it would get to make her forget that she had ever met him. If he tried to do something and it addled her brains, Harry could be buggered.

With no way out of this situation that he had created for himself, he slipped into a fitful sleep.

"Give it to me, Gregorovitch."

Harry's voice was high, clear and cold, his wand pointed at a man with pure-white hair and a thick beard, suspended upside down in mid-air. "I have it not," he was saying, "I have it no more! It was, many years ago, stolen from me!"

"Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Gregorovitch. He knows. . . . He always knows." The man's pupils were wide, dilated with fear, and they seemed to swell, bigger and bigger until their blackness swallowed Harry whole –

And then Harry was hurrying along a dark corridor only a few paces behind Gregorovitch as he held a lantern aloft: Gregorovitch burst into the room at the end of the passage and his lantern illuminated what looked like a workshop; and there on the window ledge sat perched, a young man with golden hair. In the split second that the lantern's light illuminated him, Harry saw the delight upon his handsome face, then the intruder shot a Stunning Spell from his wand and jumped neatly backward out of the window with a crow of laughter.

And Harry was hurtling back out of those wide, tunnel-like pupils and Gregorovitch's face was stricken with terror.

"Who was the thief, Gregorovitch?" said the high cold voice.

"I do not know, I never knew, a young man – no – please – PLEASE!"

A scream that went on and on and someone was shaking him, calling his name.

He tried to push them away when there was a burst of green light –

Harry's eyes flew wide open and he tried to recoil from the person beside him, but instead, he fell out of the couch he had been sleeping in.

"Watch out!" warned Demelza, a second too late. He groaned, clutching his injured leg in his hands, screwing his eyes shut at the pain that was shooting up his leg as well as his scar.

Demelza put an arm around him, huffing at the effort of hauling him up. "This is why," she panted, "I told you to have the bed yourself."

Harry spared her the effort and manoeuvred himself into the couch, staring at the ceiling which was dark and blurry. A pair of glasses was thrust into his hands and he took it from her wordlessly, putting them on.

"Bad dream again?" asked Demelza, not unkindly. Harry swallowed and nodded, still shaken by what he had just seen.

"Someone died tonight, didn't they?"

Harry cricked his neck with the speed at which he turned to look at her face. He was disconcerted to see her features wrought in sympathy.

"I saw it this time too," she said in explanation.

Harry knew she was referring to the Killing curse that she had seen reflected in his eyes like the last time he had watched someone die. He felt uncomfortable, even vulnerable, knowing that she had been privy to it without his permission or control.

"Do – do you… um—"

The hesitation in her voice took him by surprise. She hadn't sounded that uncertain since the day she had asked him if she could stay with him before Harry had bluntly refused – and made her outright vicious to talk to.

Harry frowned at her, prompting her to finish her sentence.

"I mean, you look into You-Know-Who's mind, don't you? That's why you keep seeing people get killed?"

Harry was not surprised by her analysis. She had already proved to be too perceptive before and it was only a matter of time before she arrived at the conclusion herself.

His silence answered Demelza's question sufficiently and her eyes widened, horrified. "Can't you stop it?"

Harry shook his head, not divulging his impotence in Occlumency. Demelza did not ask him anything about it further but insisted that Harry should take the bed, at least until his leg was completely healed. The dull ache in his calf had lessened, but it was sufficient to make him not disagree with her argument.

When Harry sank into his bed later that night, he could not help but wonder about what he had seen. Voldemort had killed this Gregorovitch for something that he was after, something that had been stolen by the merry-faced boy. What was it? With Wizarding Britain at his feet and a whole army in his aid, what was so important that Voldemort had left the country to find?

His scar was prickling again, a muted thrum that kept him awake.

If only he could look into Voldemort's mind and hear what he was thinking…

Curiosity was a compulsion that he could never overcome, even if he tried. Cautiously, Harry closed his eyes, trying to intentionally slide into Voldemort's mind. A small, sensible part of him tried to warn him that he was playing with fire, but the pull was simply too tempting. There was no other way he could find out who this Gregorovitch was or what Voldemort was after, he reasoned with himself.

Harry did not know how to properly do it, but he didn't believe it could be difficult. He slowed his breathing, relaxing into a state where he was conscious but not really able to open his eyes without supreme willpower.

His thoughts wandered to Demelza – despite her stubbornness and snappy retorts, she had pushed aside all of their hostility when Harry had been having a nightmare. How she had heard him from up here was anyone's guess, but the simple act of kindness she had shown at that moment, warmed him anyway…

Perhaps he should not be thinking of Demelza when he was trying to look into Voldemort's mind. He cleared his thoughts, letting himself feel nothing. This was almost like Occlumency, but Harry was certain, looking into another's mind would be far easier than shielding his own mind…

…He was flying, an incredibly exhilarating feeling that he did not realize he had missed. Buoyed, he let himself enjoy it for a while before he slowly recognized his surroundings – he was actually in mid-air without a broom. And it was not himself at all.

Aware for the first time that he was in Voldemort's mind, he let his thoughts go carefully blank, lest he alert him to his presence. He was afraid yet also adventurous enough to test the limits. For a while, he could only hear the wind whistling past his ears and see the lights below whizzing past him, but after a long moment, he could feel it.

He could feel Voldemort's thoughts. He could not read his mind or hear what he was thinking, no. Harry could not explain it better than that he could feel what he was feeling.

Anger, confusion – who was that boy? Once again, when he went one step closer, the Elder Wand only seemed to travel further from his reach.

Harry's eyes snapped open, elation coursing through him at this revelation. And the mere fact, that he had slipped in and out of Voldemort's mind without discovery or aid was enough to make him thrilled at his success.

So Voldemort was after a wand? An Elder Wand?

Harry had no idea what that was, but it made sense to him now. Voldemort must be searching for another wand and the only reason that could be was to overcome the problem of the twin cores of their phoenix feather wands.

Was this Elder wand some sort of ancient and powerful wand? Possibly. But this meant that Voldemort was actively working to gain the upper hand against him.

And what was Harry doing? The only way he could have a fighting chance at defeating Voldemort was to find and destroy those Horcruxes. And he had made zero progress in that respect.

Unconsciously, his fingers wrapped around the locket around his neck. The cold metal had become a permanent resident against his chest and he could almost forget that he was wearing it. He had so too, seeing as he had not given the Horcruxes a thought since Demelza had barged into his plans.

He noticed only then, something that could have been the reason he had forgotten about the locket.

It was not icy cold anymore.

oOo

"You look as bad as I do."

Sirius snorted at Remus' appraisal, not bothering to disagree, which made the latter frown. At least, he had a reason to look the way he did – the full moon was in a few hours.

Remus narrowed his gaze. "What is it that you've been doing, Sirius?"

"I found him," said Sirius bluntly, making Remus' eyes widen in alarm. They both knew there was only one person he could be talking about.

"Where's he?" croaked Remus, turning his head to look behind him as if he expected Harry to be standing right there, safe in his home again and they could all push aside this incident as a bad dream.

Sirius sighed and closed his eyes, bringing one hand up to rub his forehead in a show of frustration or sadness, Remus was not certain. When no answer was forthcoming, he pressed urgently, "Where is Harry, Sirius?"

"I don't know!" proclaimed Sirius, throwing up his hands and pacing the breadth of Mr. Potter's study. "I-bloody-don't-know! All I do know was that he had his leg broken last week and he admitted himself to a Muggle hospital where he was attacked by those sodding wankers!"

Remus knew Harry had been in a hospital, but to know he was injured that badly? It made him feel sick to his stomach to think he had not looked into that detail in the newspaper further as Sirius had done. But he didn't remember the article having mentioned the hospital's name, so how had Sirius found out?

The answer was so obvious – and so very Sirius in its bull-headed stubbornness.

"Did you look around in every Muggle hospital in London, Sirius?" asked Remus, with a measure of astonishment irrespective of his chiding tone. "Is that what you've been doing these last couple of weeks?"

There must have been hundreds of hospitals in London! How Sirius had persevered to sieve through every single one of them, Remus could not fathom. But it did bring up a familiar feeling inside him, something that always reared its ugly head when it became apparent that secrets were being kept from him, especially by his best friend.

Or it could possibly be the full moon that was doing this to him.

"Of course I went looking!" snapped Sirius. "What did you expect me to do? Sit at home, twiddling my thumbs?"

"Ask my help, for one," said Remus, quietly, "or the Order, for that matter. I am certain not one of them would have refused for this cause."

Sirius stopped his furious pacing as if he'd hit an invisible wall. He furrowed his brows before saying, "I thought you wouldn't understand. I didn't want anyone to assume I'm using them for my own needs."

Remus narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about? Everybody cares about Harry quite as much as you do."

"Do they?" said Sirius, turning to look at Remus fully. "All I hear is everyone talking about the Chosen One and how they're rooting for him to save them. Do they really care what happens to Harry if he faces him?"

Remus wanted to vehemently say that 'Yes, everyone really did care for Harry', but he knew he would be lying. Of course, Remus and Harry's closest friends wanted him alive and safe more than any supposed prophesized duel with Voldemort. But not everyone would be thinking like them.

"Potterwatch!" burst out Sirius, as if he'd been holding it in for a long while. "That's what you've all decided to call the channel…"

Remus frowned. "After you gave your permission, if I might remind."

"I couldn't say no to them, Remus," explained Sirius, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "Look, I know — I understand – that what you're saying makes sense. Harry isn't just any ordinary boy."

Sirius paused, staring at the crystal goblets arranged on the shelves on the wall behind the desk. He continued speaking rather pensively. "He defeated that bastard when he was a baby. Although I know what exactly happened that night, he's still a living miracle. It's no wonder people want him to be their saviour – everyone wants to hope for a future without this You-Know-Who nonsense hanging over their heads. And their one hope is Harry. Even though it drives me mad, nothing I say or do is going to stop it."

Remus could do nothing but gape at Sirius in bewilderment. Suffice it to say, he was immensely proud of how far Sirius had come in this matter.

"Why would Harry not come back if he was injured so badly?" Sirius wondered aloud, making Remus wince at the abruptness of it all. "If he could bloody well Apparate, why not come straight home?"

Remus did not have an answer for that. Sirius let out a breath and shook his head, making his way to the bottle of gin. He poured half a goblet of the clear liquid, saying "I hate what he's doing to himself."

Sirius took a mouthful and grimaced, before muttering, "And I hate what he's doing to me."

Remus watched his friend take one more gulp before he decided to intervene. It would not do if Sirius relapsed into his habit of drinking whenever he was worried about Harry. He silently watched Remus push the goblet aside, the latter pleased that no opposition was imminent.

"At least, he's doing something," said Remus, even though it still incensed him that Harry had the nerve to leave them all behind. "As we all ought to be instead of simply worrying about one another."

"I can't ever stop worrying about him, Remus," said Sirius, quietly. "If all I ever did was to make sure Harry makes it out alive, I'd die a happy man."

"You think Harry will not need you after all this is over?" asked Remus, sharply.

Sirius shook his head, eyes far away. "He doesn't need me. Not even now."

"He does," said Remus firmly. "He always will, Sirius. You just don't know it yet – both of you."

When Sirius remained grave, Remus added, "And what of the Order? Do you assume we don't need you either?"

Remus paused, making sure he got the point across. "On the outside, it seems daft. Nobody in their right mind should believe this Order can succeed against the likes of the Death Eaters this time. Our track record is… blemished… with loss after loss, even though we had Dumbledore himself with us then."

Remus knew Sirius was listening, even if it seemed like he could not be least bothered about the Order at the moment. It wasn't in him to stand by and watch people suffer; that was what had motivated him to join the Order the last time.

But Remus also knew this was not the same Sirius that had joined the Order along with him and James the summer after Hogwarts. Sixteen years, spent in Azkaban and on the run as a fugitive, had changed him – if it was for the better or for worse was something they would find out soon.

"But imagine if we quit, if we surrendered," continued Remus, hopeful when he saw a spark of something stir behind Sirius' grey eyes. "You can't tell me the world will be a safer place for Harry. You cannot possibly believe that if you were gone, he is going to be miraculously alright in the end. I would go as far as to say Harry would not stand a chance if that was the case."

Sirius looked up at him, raw fear and worry lining his face. Even Azkaban had not made him look older than he was at that moment.

Remus was outraged on Sirius' behalf for the world making him doubt his place in Harry's life. It did not help that Harry himself had thrown Sirius aside, even though the latter was ready to give him everything. When Harry got back, he really wanted to give him a piece of his mind. Yes, he knew it was probably the rebellious teenager in Harry, but this was not the time to act out against the people who truly cared for him. Not when everyone's lives were on the line, including his.

Remus gripped Sirius' shoulder, and said tersely, "Do not think, for even a moment, that there is an easy way out of all this mess. Harry will need you and you better be ready for it."

oOo

Something changed that day for Sirius. Remus was right – he always was.

He could not go crashing down after what Harry had done to him. He needed to be stronger than that – for both his and Harry's sake. He would be ready when Harry realized the error of his ways and came back to him. Until then, there was work to do.

The Order, having done nothing after their mission to keep the muggleborn children from entering the Hogwarts Express, save for Potterwatch, was enthusiastic when Sirius made the decision to resume their training sessions which had been halted since Dumbledore's passing.

This proved to be a good idea as the younger members had begun growing restless, cooped up in Headquarters for weeks. Along with training, Sirius wanted to ensure Ron and Hermione kept up with their academic work, much to Ron's dismay.

"This is worse than Hogwarts," grumbled Ron. "I have to prepare for my NEWTs like I'm actually going to sit the exams and practice Auror-level Defence Against the Dark Arts too? The Death Eaters don't have to kill me, Catherine and Tonks will!"

"Oh quit complaining, Ronald!" said Hermione, rolling her eyes even though she had not taken them off of her book. "We're the only ones here who should have been in school. We can't expect to keep up with everyone if we don't understand our NEWT Level subjects first."

Sirius nodded approvingly at her and she beamed in return before going back to her studying. He had been surprised himself when Hermione nearly jumped for joy at Sirius' suggestion that Remus ensure Ron and Hermione did not miss out on their schoolwork. Even he would not have been as enthusiastic as she was, if he were her age. Ron's reaction was the most sensible to him – he had stomped off to his room, grumbling under his breath.

Catherine, bless her, had taken it upon herself to help tutor them as she was 'bored to tears' in her words. It turned out only Ron needed her assistance as Hermione was just fine without it. While Sirius was impressed with her academic achievement, their duelling sessions kept her on her feet as everyone were older and much better than her with their spell-work. Fred and George took immense pleasure in rubbing it in her face, but it served to only make her more determined and competitive than she already was.

Sirius could not oversee their training first hand however, seeing as he dropped in only twice a week to take over their practice sessions. With new-found resolve, he had been trying to locate the Horcruxes on his own. He had learnt about the Diadem of Ravenclaw and its history, which was murky at best. He was certain that no matter what the books said about it being lost during Rowena Ravenclaw's time, it had to be the one that Voldemort had chosen as the horcrux.

It had to be – or Sirius would be completely clueless on what else could possibly be a horcrux and he did not need that kind of negativity at the moment.

The problem then was trying to locate the diadem. If Voldemort had found it, that at least made all the history books useless as they would not give him any clues on where to find something that Voldemort himself had hidden. It had to be some place that Voldemort knew well.

"Aren't we limiting ourselves if we think it could only be inside Britain?" Hermione said one evening when Sirius had pulled her and Ron aside to discuss about his findings.

"He was an orphan, Hermione," said Ron matter-of-factly. "I don't reckon he had the money to go touring the world once he finished school. It has to be somewhere within the country."

"He went to Albania when he'd been defeated the last time," said Sirius, frowning. "It cannot have been a random occurrence that he chose the place. Dumbledore seemed to consider it likely so we travelled together to the forest he was rumoured to have been in."

Hermione gasped. "Did you find anything?"

"There must have been a Horcrux placed there earlier, but it seemed to have been relocated recently."

"Relocated?" murmured Ron, eyebrows drawn together. "You mean… he brought it back to Britain once he could travel again?"

"That seems to be the most likely reason to me," Sirius nodded.

Hermione was deep in thought. "Where did You-Know-Who go as soon as he had become strong enough to come to Britain again?"

"Didn't he go straight to his house – the Riddle's house?" said Ron. "Harry even had dreams about that place even before the TriWizard Tournament, remember?

"He hated those muggles, didn't he?" said Hermione. "I don't think he'd keep a piece of his soul in a Muggle's house."

"Besides, Dumbledore found the ring in the Gaunt's house. I don't reckon he'd be foolish to keep two horcruxes in the same place," said Sirius, shaking his head.

"Then we're goners," moaned Ron. "That leaves us only with wherever he's hiding now. Who knows where that is?" he wondered aloud, throwing up his hands.

Sirius mirrored Ron's sentiment. He was frustrated by their lack of knowledge. Even if they did know where Voldemort was located, Sirius was doubtful he would have his Horcrux with him. Already, he had Nagini close by. Having another one close at hand would be counterintuitive.

"Aren't we forgetting something?" said Hermione slowly. "You-Know-Who escaped from Albania once, before he could get a physical body…"

Ron looked askance at her. "You mean Quirrell? What has that got to do with anything?"

Hermione's eyes were moving rapidly, struggling to put together a puzzle that seemed just out of her reach.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting, Hermione? Are you saying he would have used Quirrell to relocate that horcrux which he had kept safe in Albania until then?"

Hermione bit her lip, nodding uncertainly.

Ron's eyes widened however. "What if he brought it to Hogwarts?"

Sirius could not deny that it made total sense. Apparently, Hermione agreed too for her expression cleared. "Of course!"

She turned to look at Sirius. "Sirius, when the Ministry was looking for you and you were on the run, all that mattered for them was to make sure you didn't get inside Hogwarts, because they thought you were after Harry, right?"

Grimacing, Sirius made a motion for her to continue. "Where did you hide then knowing that the one place you could not and should not have entered was Hogwarts?"

Sirius was impressed with her reasoning. Ron was gawking at her with a hint of admiration. Sirius resisted the urge to laugh, but asked Hermione instead, "Didn't you say earlier that if it were in Hogwarts, Dumbledore would have found out about it?"

Hermione turned pink. "I didn't believe it could be possible then, but I think I was wrong. I think it could be in Hogwarts."

Ron jerked up in surprise. "You reckon you were wrong? Wow, never thought I'd see the day."

Hermione glared at him. Sirius however, had another epiphany. A slow smile formed on his lips making Ron and Hermione look at him curiously.

"And where do you think someone who thought himself special, who thought he was superior because he was the last heir of Salazar Slytherin, would have hidden one of his most valuable possessions?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other and came to the realization almost at the same time. They exclaimed in unison, "The Chamber of Secrets!"

oOo

September flew by in a breeze and the leaves were beginning to colour as October arrived.

With their suspicions that one of the Horcruxes could be in Hogwarts, their next step would be to break into Hogwarts. This was not exactly an easy feat even in the best of times, but now with Death Eaters crawling all over the place, even Sirius agreed they needed a plan before they could decide on how best to go with it. Sirius was of the idea that the best possible time would be when the school was empty during the Christmas holidays.

Ron and Hermione agreed readily and Sirius had a feeling that was only because they still had two whole months before they needed to break into the castle. It was understandable they must feel anxious.

Nevertheless, Sirius was not going to risk their lives unnecessarily and so they first needed to ensure they had a solid plan before they could even think about getting inside the castle. He decided they would let the matter rest for a while, and the two of them were allowed to carry on with their academic and training sessions without worry for the time-being.

On one of the Order meetings, which was held right after a broadcast of Potterwatch and thus only half of the members were present, they received some news, something that shook them as it was directly involved with them.

"She did what?" George yelled in disbelief, standing up from his chair.

Fred and Ron watched anxiously as their older brother rubbed his eyes beneath his horn-rimmed glasses tiredly. Percy had been very late to the Order meeting, arriving at only the last minute. It turned out he had been in touch with Bill Weasley.

"She's okay now, George," said Percy. "Bill says she only had detention with Hagrid along with Neville and Lovegood."

"That's not so bad," said Angelina comfortingly. "I bet Hagrid let them feed the flobberworms or something."

"Detention with Hagrid?" asked Tonks curiously, sitting atop the dining table with her legs on the chair. "Are we sure that it was Snape who handed them this punishment? It sounds very lame in comparison to what he gave us when we were his students. And we had no idea he was a Death Eater then."

Percy watched her stonily while Fred and George were fuming.

"Should we be hoping for a worse detention, then?" retorted Fred. "That's my sister who's surrounded by Death Eaters day in and day out!"

"Calm down," said Tonks easily. "I love Ginny as well and I'm glad nothing bad happened to her. I'm just saying it's very suspicious on Snape's part, is all."

"Are we not going to talk about the fact that they tried to break into the Headmaster's office to steal the Sword of Gryffindor?" asked Hestia who glanced at Sirius before turning towards the Weasleys. Sirius noticed that she looked somewhat tired with shadows under her eyes. "What did she think she was going to do? Put it in her pocket and bring it home?"

"Hestia has a point," said Remus. "We've tried to keep as little contact with Arthur and Molly to keep them from getting into trouble. The Death Eaters must know by now that Dumbledore bequeathed the sword to Harry. This incident will only reinforce that Ginny is directly aiding and abetting Harry. This could get her and your family into serious trouble."

The twins were suitably cowed by Remus' view. At that moment, Angelina gasped. "What if it was Harry who asked her to get it?"

Sirius had only widened his eyes in disbelief at that idea, before Ron jumped in defence of his best friend. "Harry would never do that. Ask Ginny to risk her life for him? He'd rather do it himself!"

A small but proud smile wound its way on Sirius' face at Ron's statement. Just like James.

Fred grumbled, "I hope Dad sent her a Howler for what she just tried to do."

Everyone was engaged in conversation discussing this latest development.

Sirius frowned however, pondering at the absurdity of it all. Edmund Abbott had told him that the letters from his niece were few and far in between, always short and not revealing anything that could possibly lead them to believe that something could be happening in Hogwarts. Sirius knew without a doubt that their owls were being watched and hence the ambiguous letters.

Ginny and her friends' conduct had warranted a letter to their parents which was why they had an idea of what had happened. And it sounded odd to Sirius that Snape would hand over detention to Hagrid of all people, who he knew was, or at least, had been in the Order.

Why hadn't Snape involved the Carrows? Even though the Order created the illusion that they were not in contact with Molly or Arthur, Snape knew they had been Order members. He should have relished the opportunity to torment their daughter. Something wasn't adding up.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Percy announced loudly, catching everyone's attention. "Bill asked me to tell everyone some good news as well – he's going to become a father!"

"What?" "Blimey!" "Fleur's having a baby?" Oh, how wonderful!" was the cacophony of enthusiastic voices around the room. Sirius watched in amusement as Fred and George broke into an impromptu song to 'Welcome a Little French Weasley.'

Tonks was laughing at their antics, along with the Johnsons. Remus, though slightly subdued, was still quite cheerful and took part in the merry-making. Hestia had procured bottles of Butterbeer for everyone from the kitchen and everyone raised a toast to Bill and Fleur, laughing and drinking, all their troubles momentarily forgotten.

Sirius could not help but notice however that by the time everyone had finished their Butterbeers, Hestia had already left.

oOo

A/N: Virtual cookies to our 500th follower – Queen Raja!

Thank you for all your reviews, faves and alerts. I read every single one of them and it puts a smile on my face to think I can make someone happy somewhere across the world.