'She needs fresh air, space, sunlight. She is full of such fiery youth, such a passion for living.'
Renée Vivien
On the last day of summer holiday, Darcy finds a wonderful surprise eating breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron. The Weasleys' are greeting Harry each in turn, giving hugs and handshakes, exchanging grins and laughs. Darcy skips down the stairs to greet them and is glad to find Hermione seated at the table, as well. When at last Darcy finds herself in front of Mr. Weasley, he pulls her into a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head before letting go.
"Darcy Potter," he says fondly, squeezing her shoulder. "Doing well?"
"Very," Darcy smiles. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Weasley."
"Here—sit, sit!" He waves his wand in a large circle and a chair comes sliding towards them, stopping right beside his own. Darcy sits down in the chair, looking around at everyone chatting loudly around the table. The twins are here—Fred and George—and Percy, the same age as her; Ron sits with Harry and Hermione at the far end of the table; Ginny sits with her mother. "Anxious? Excited? Frightened?"
"I don't know what I'm feeling," Darcy sighs, unable to wipe the smile off her face. She reaches for some eggs before allowing Fred to place a few sausages on her plate a few places down. "Mostly excited, I think. Emily and Carla visited a little bit ago."
"Did they?" Mr. Weasley asks, sounding as if the idea of Emily and Carla visiting is the most interesting thing in the entire world at that moment. "Excellent. Emily still interested in working for the Ministry?"
"Yes, sir," Darcy replies, a mouth full of food. "However, I don't quite think she's interested in, er—your department."
"It's fascinating—what isn't there to be interested in?" Mr. Weasley scoffs. "You understand, of course."
Darcy looks at him awkwardly and apologetically, but he just smiles at her.
The rest of the day, Harry and Darcy accompany the Weasley family and Hermione around Diagon Alley as they purchase the rest of their school things. Fred and George entertain Darcy with crude jokes and stories about their family trip to Egypt that summer. Ron loudly talks about the Firebolt most of the time, and keeps making side comments about how awful his rat has been looking lately. Hermione complains, as well, mostly about how she doesn't have a pet of her own and how she really has been thinking about making the brave jump to pet ownership. Darcy listens to her carefully, wondering if owning a pet is something she could do. Gemma has her cat—albeit the most cowardly cat Darcy knows. It had taken quickly to hiding in the shadows under Gemma's bed and rarely ever saw sunlight. She wonders briefly if that cat is even still alive.
After a while, Darcy hangs back with Mr. Weasley, who often doesn't even go into the shops, instead hanging around outside the entrance, hands deep in his pockets and waiting patiently for his family. She sits on a bench outside Flourish and Blotts, crossing her arms over her chest and closing her eyes, basking in the bright sunshine.
"Going to keep out of trouble this year, I hope?" Mr. Weasley asks suddenly. He's peeking into the window of Flourish and Blotts, checking on his family. He smiles impishly at Darcy and she flushes, shrugging her shoulders.
Last year, Darcy's sixth year, Professor McGonagall had caught Darcy and several of her friends in the Prefects' Bathroom, all taking shots of firewhiskey and sitting in the elongated tub. Knowing that the Dursleys' would not be bothered by a stern letter from her, McGonagall wrote to Mr. Weasley, explaining the entire situation and describing the punishment to him—which happened to be a month of tedious detentions.
The day after McGonagall wrote to Mr. Weasley, he had sent Darcy a Howler at breakfast, his disappointed voice echoing throughout the Great Hall. Emily had laughed the whole time, and even Darcy couldn't help but to smile. Professor McGonagall, however, had seemed very pleased at her decision to notify Mr. Weasley about her 'alcoholic tendencies' as Professor McGonagall had put it. Although, Darcy was just glad that it wasn't Mrs. Weasley's voice embarrassing her in front of the entire school.
She finally decides on an answer. "No promises."
"That's my girl," he replies distractedly. "You're still young—you have plenty of time to get into trouble. Focus on your classes this year, yes? This year is very important."
Darcy smiles weakly. "Getting into trouble is much more fun."
Darcy ends up accompanying Hermione into the Magical Menagerie, considering buying a pet herself. They walk around for a few minutes while Ron gets some rat tonic for his pet rat, Scabbers. Harry and Ron leave promptly afterwards, as Scabbers scurries out the door quickly, evading capture. The girls giggle, looking at the different kinds of animals huddling against the walls of their cages. Darcy looks at the cats first, then at some reptiles, then at the owls.
The owls ruffle their wings inside their cages, some of them flying around the ceiling of the shop. Darcy strokes a screech owl's chest and it hoots appreciatively, but Darcy is interrupted by something landing on her shoulder.
She jumps as talons clamp gently against her skin and she sees the owl that's landed on her. A beautiful, pale barn owl looks directly at her and Darcy reaches her hand out to stroke it. It nips affectionately at her fingers and within minutes, the owl is still perched on her shoulder and Darcy is paying the witch behind the counter for her new owl, which has yet to be named, but she does find out that it's a male.
Hermione walks out with a fluffy orange cat that purrs in her arms, long bushy tail brushing against Darcy's arm the whole time. Darcy keeps her owl perched on her arm, swinging his cage back and forth by her side. Her owl nuzzles the top of his head into Darcy's chin and she laughs. The girls debate for a long time about a name for her owl, but eventually, they settle on one that they both agree on: Max.
Upon returning to the Leaky Cauldron, Darcy introduces Max to Harry and their friends, and Max takes to them immediately. They all chuckle and giggle as Max soars around the Leaky Cauldron, finally landing on Darcy's arm and rubbing his face against her head. He's a loveable owl, and Darcy even lets him sit on the arm of her chair for dinner. Every so often, she slips a piece a food to Max and he eats it graciously, nipping at her fingers for more food. Darcy complies each and every time.
Hermione's new ginger cat, Crookshanks, circles her and Darcy's legs during their seemingly endless dinner feast, rubbing up against their pants, purring loudly, much to Ron's disapproval. Several times, when Crookshanks jumps up onto Hermione's lap for a few moments, Ron flashes her a disapproving look. The mood is light, however, and Hermione is not discouraged by Ron's constant muttering.
Everyone laughs and jokes loudly, as if they've been apart for four years instead of a few weeks over summer. Darcy and Harry watch Max and Hedwig fly around the Leaky Cauldron together, knocking over someone's tankard and hurriedly flying out of the window to hunt before anyone can catch them. They throw chunks of food at each other—until Mrs. Weasley quickly shuts that down—and Mr. Weasley even drinks quite a few glasses of mead before turning bright red and resorting to just water.
Things are finally exactly like they should be and Darcy can't keep from smiling. Every so often, her eyes move around the table, looking at everyone sitting around her. Even when Percy looks up at her, she can't help but to beam at him, which makes Percy fidget in his seat and look away quickly.
"I want to make a toast," Mr. Weasley says, standing up suddenly, causing his plate and silverware to rattle against the table. He holds up his glass of water and it sloshes over the sides, spilling onto his hand and down his arm. "To our own Percy and Darcy—good luck during your final year!"
Darcy blushes and clinks glasses with everyone around her as Mr. Weasley sits down again. It isn't long until Tom the barkeep waves his wand and clears the table they're sitting at. Within minutes, all kinds of desserts are placed in front of them and Darcy sighs contentedly at the slice of dark chocolate cake in front of her.
"Aren't you glad I blew up Marge?" Harry asks her in a whisper, grinning as he watches Fred and George wrestle each other to the ground. Mrs. Weasley runs over, separating them with magic, and they both climb to their seats, sweating and smiling. "We wouldn't be here."
Darcy looks at Harry for a long time, feeling Crookshanks's tail sweep over her knee cap. "I'm not telling you I approve, if that's what you're fishing for." She turns away from him, looking now at Hermione, who's talking with Ginny secretively.
Harry just smiles at her.
"Fine," Darcy replies with a roll of her eyes. "I guess it was pretty funny."
That night, Darcy finishes her packing while in her room. Her trunk, bursting with folded clothing and robes, extra quills and ink bottles, and spare parchment that she never used the year before. She can still hear loud voices coming from downstairs, and Mrs. Weasley eventually shepherds all her children and Hermione up the stairs for bed. Darcy can hear them walk past her door, stomping loudly on the wood, still carrying on.
A few moments later, after everyone has settled down outside her room, there's a knock on her door. Darcy expects Harry and calls, "Come in!" But to her surprise, it's not Harry that enters—it's Mr. Weasley. She stands at the sight of him and he shuts the door behind him, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt.
"Darcy," he smiles a small smile, looking up in the corner of her room, where Max is carefully watching him. "Do you have a moment?"
"Sure," she replies. Darcy moves over and sits on her bed, tucking her legs under herself. Mr. Weasley takes a seat as well, glancing quickly towards Max again. "Is something wrong, Mr. Weasley?"
"I've been working long hours at the Ministry," he replies.
Darcy shifts. Even though he seemed a bit drunk just a little while ago, Mr. Weasley now seems completely sober. The faint pink glow is absent from his face and he's stopped sweating, though he still looks warm. He takes his vest off and puts it on his lap. "Does it have anything to do with Sirius Black?"
"I'm afraid it has everything to do with Sirius Black," Mr. Weasley says, finally looking at Darcy, his eyebrows furrowed.
Darcy pauses. "Has the Ministry had much luck with Sirius Black?"
"No," he says flatly. "Unfortunately, we haven't had any luck lately. I don't know that the Ministry is doing enough, but you didn't hear that from me."
"Of course." Darcy hesitates, waiting for Mr. Weasley to go on, but he seems to be waiting to be prompted. "What would you suggest they do?"
"I don't know," he admits. "I just don't like the way they've been handling things—or not handling things—and I fear things are only going to get worse."
Darcy pulls a pillow into her lap, hugging it tightly. "What do you mean?"
"I shouldn't be telling you this, but—"
"You'll tell me anyway?"
"I always do, don't I?" Mr. Weasley forces a smile. "Though, Molly would go mad if she knew the things I've told you, so why don't you keep this just between us?
"Why would she go mad?" Darcy asks again.
Mr. Weasley looks her over. "Because these are private things—things the Ministry doesn't want a seventeen-year-old Hogwarts student to know. Things the Ministry don't want any outsiders to know." Mr. Weasley stops suddenly, staring at the door, as if several Ministry workers or Mrs. Weasley herself are standing outside, ears to the door, waiting to catch him giving out confidential information. Darcy watches him, heart starting to pump quickly, nerves jangling, not used to such a deadly serious Mr. Weasley. "I'm afraid the best way to say this to you is to be incredibly blunt."
She's quiet, leaning closer to him, needing to know this deep dark secret that the Ministry is trying to keep.
"Sirius Black is after Harry."
Shock runs through Darcy's veins and she can feel the color drain from her face. In one single second, Mr. Weasley has confirmed her worst fear, confirmed that this last year will be another challenge. For a moment, she feels slightly lightheaded. She must look it, too, because Mr. Weasley holds out a hand as though to steady her. Darcy ignores his gesture and stands up, beginning to pace back and forth, grabbing chunks of her hair and forcing herself not to start crying out of sheer frustration.
"I'm not telling you this to scare you, Darcy. Believe me—that's the last thing I want to do. I know how you must be feeling," Mr. Weasley says again, frowning. "I'm telling you this because I'm worried about Harry and I don't know that he could handle information like—"
"How do you know?" Darcy asks quickly, needing to confirm this. Maybe Mr. Weasley doesn't know what he's talking about, maybe his information is wrong. "Who told you? Where is Sirius Black now?"
Mr. Weasley answers almost immediately. "Fudge heard Black talking in his sleep during his last inspection of Azkaban. Most of the Ministry knows, but they won't print it because they don't want this story to get out. No one knows where Sirius Black is right now, but we all think he's going to return to Hogwarts. That's what he'd been saying—he's at Hogwarts."
"And could he get into Hogwarts? Even with Dumbledore there? Even with all the protection he's placed on Hogwarts?" Darcy thinks, stroking her chin pensively. "I mean, there's no way he'd actually be able to get into the castle, right?"
"He broke out of Azkaban, didn't he?" Mr. Weasley replies solemnly. "And that's supposed to be impossible."
"Does Dumbledore know?"
"Yes, Dumbledore knows."
"So what is he doing about it?"
Mr. Weasley grimaces and Darcy immediately stops pacing, looking closely at him. He clears his throat and sits up a little straight. "Dumbledore has authorized the Ministry to station the guards of Azkaban around Hogwarts and in the village."
Darcy scoffs, unbelieving. "Dementors?" she whispers, shivering involuntarily. She'd only ever seen pictures, and Darcy has no desire to look a real one in the face—or whatever is beneath their hoods. "What about Harry? Does he know any of this?"
"If Molly doesn't wish me to tell you all this, what makes you think she would want Harry to know?" Mr. Weasley rubs his temples furiously, exhausted.
"But Harry has to know," Darcy protests. "He has a right to this knowledge! He needs to be able to defend himself—to—to—be on his guard!" But even as she says it, she feels a terrible wave of dread wash over her. Should Harry know? Or would the truth frighten him?
"I agree with you, Darcy, wholeheartedly, but armed with this information and the fact that—" He stops and thinks hard for a moment.
"What?" Darcy prompts, narrowing her eyes. "The fact that what?"
Mr. Weasley stands up and moves closer to Darcy. She can tell he's troubled, but she doesn't speak, needing to know what Mr. Weasley has to say. "You're a good girl, Darcy. Do me a favor, won't you?" He waits for Darcy to nod her approval before continuing. "Don't let Harry go looking for Black. He'll listen to you, but I need you promise me, that you'll try to prevent it at all costs."
"I don't understand. Why would Harry go looking for Sirius Black?"
"The same reason Harry went looking for the Sorcerer's Stone. The same reason he went looking for the Chamber of Secrets. He can be reckless and fearless at times, especially with you at his side. It's no secret that Harry is curious—too curious sometimes—and—and people might try to feed you information, but you mustn't listen to them, all right? The most important thing is that Harry stays far away from Sirius Black."
"Mr. Weasley," Darcy says quietly. "You're scaring me. What information would people try to give me?"
"Arthur? Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley's voice booms from the hallway and Mr. Weasley looks at the bedroom door. Her heavy footsteps grow closer. "Where are you?"
"I can't say anything more," he says in a low voice, grasping Darcy's arms and looking her in the eye. "Just promise me that you'll make sure Harry is safe. Promise me that you will not get involved in affairs that do not concern you or your brother."
Darcy hesitates, looking into his face. "I promise."
"That's my girl."
"Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley's voice sounds worried now. Before anyone can say another word, the door to Darcy's room opens quickly, and Mrs. Weasley's eyes flick from her husband's face to Darcy's. "What are you doing in here, Arthur?" She sounds suspicious of something, but Darcy doesn't think it polite to ask why, so she doesn't say anything at all.
"Just having a quick chat, Molly," Mr. Weasley says cheerfully, patting Darcy's cheek with his tough palm and walking over to his wife, who's standing in the threshold. "I've been hoping to convince her to work in my department at work, of course."
"Alone? Not something you could have discussed over dinner? Or in a letter, perhaps?"
Darcy finds it strange that Mrs. Weasley sounds so wary about Mr. Weasley talking alone with her. She's suddenly under the impression that Mrs. Weasley knows exactly what they were talking about. She watches as Mr. Weasley escorts Mrs. Weasley out of the bedroom, without looking over his shoulder at Darcy once.
When the door is shut, Darcy fumbles to grab her wand off the bedside table and she locks the door without moving. Once she hears the footsteps of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley die away down the stairs, she exhales loudly, stumbling back towards the bed and falling onto it. She breathes heavily through her fingers, looking around for anything to do that might calm her down. Even Max steers clear of her, hooting before darting out the window into the clear night.
Never a dull year with Harry around.