It Only Takes A Drop of Blood
Chapter 5: The Order of the Phoenix
Four days later, Harry was lying down on his bed, trying very hard to get some rest. While he had largely recovered from the Dementor attack, the additional exposure to chemotherapy agents on Saturday had him either flat on his back or hovering over the porcelain god.
Just as he was going to drift off, his uncle walked in, a distasteful sneer on his face when he glanced at his prone nephew.
Harry struggled to open his heavy eyes and focused on Uncle Vernon's wavering visage.
"We're going out," Vernon said, standing as far away from Harry as possible.
"Sorry?" the teenager croaked confusedly.
"We — that is to say, your aunt, Dudley, and I — are going out."
"Fine," said Harry, wishing that he could close his eyes again.
"You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away."
Harry grimaced. "Uncle Vernon, I might have to use the loo…" he said while curling a hand around his stomach pointedly.
Vernon shivered violently in distaste and forcefully bit out his next words. "You may only leave to use the loo," he said slowly. "You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions."
The teenager nodded in admission and relaxed slightly.
"You are not to steal food from the fridge."
Harry didn't think that that would be a problem, as the ever-present nausea swelled.
"I am going to… never mind."
"Okay."
His uncle left the room as fast as he could move and Harry sighed in relief when the door slammed shut. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off in the waning light, to the rumbling sound of the Dursleys' car leaving the driveway.
Harry groaned as he pushed himself up against the tile wall of the bathroom. His skin tingled to the touch and every movement caused a burning, prickling sensation along the affected areas. A very rebellious stomach rolled and churned, causing him to swallow convulsively to keep from being sick. Harry closed his eyes and hoped that he wouldn't have to vomit again.
His methods might have worked, if a sudden crash downstairs hadn't startled him into moving and opening his eyes. Harry had no choice but to clutch at the toilet again, his insides twisting and expelling nothing but stomach acid. He had long since gotten rid of everything else.
When he was finally able to stop, he remembered the noise he heard. The Dursleys couldn't be home yet… He heard voices resonate from just below the stairs and light footsteps that were coming closer to the second landing. Could it be burglars? But, they wouldn't make so much noise…
Moving as quickly as he could, Harry stood up, hoping that the intruders were absolute weaklings. He swayed on the spot and his heart thundered in his ears before a bright light shone in from the dark hallway, stinging his tired eyes.
"Harry?" a very familiar, slightly hoarse voice asked.
"P-Professor Lupin?" Harry croaked. He blinked dizzily and the room span.
Lupin, having recognized the look on the teenager's face, quickly moved to support him. "Easy," he said gently, closing the toilet lid and helping Harry sit down on it. The man then knelt to look at his face. "Are you alright?"
Harry swallowed slowly and nodded. "I'm fine," he lied, putting a hand to his fuzzy head. "What're you doing here?"
The former professor looked at his charge worriedly. "We've come to take you away."
"We?" Harry asked curiously, the words making more sense as his head settled down. He knew that Dumbledore was going to send for him, but he was too out of sorts at the moment to work through it all.
Lupin smiled crookedly. "You'll see. I told them to wait downstairs," he explained. "Now, you wait here just a moment, while I get someone to pack your things. I'll be back to help you."
Harry tried to protest but his voice failed him as Lupin walked away. The excessive vomiting had made his throat awfully tender and sore. As voices started to murmur from the hall, he stood carefully and looked at himself in the mirror.
He really did look awful. Sweat beaded his forehead and his limp hair was even more untidy than usual. His pallor was very visible, his lips were dry and cracking, and dark circles drooped under tired, red eyes. Harry sighed and washed his face, hands and neck. After brushing his teeth, he felt much fresher and more awake.
He heard two people ascend the staircase, Lupin and someone else. Quickly, he flushed the toilet and cleaned up the majority of his mess, thankful that there wasn't much.
Lupin stopped at the doorway and looked relieved when he saw that Harry was standing steadily.
"Well, I suppose you didn't need my help, after all," he said with a wry smile. "Come on, let's help Tonks with your things."
Harry walked with Lupin to his room, a faint grin on his lips. It was nice having wizards around again. When they entered, a pink haired witch was waving her wand, causing all of Harry's things to fly into his trunk. She then proceeded to clean Hedwig's cage of a summer's worth of feathers and droppings.
Lupin laughed and stepped into the room. He looked at the trunk pointedly and grinned mischievously. "A bit disorganized, isn't it?" he teased.
The woman rolled her eyes. "Like you could do better," she groused, turning to look at Harry. "Wotcher!"
The young wizard smiled weakly before swallowing through a protesting and thick throat. His stomach still hadn't settled completely and he really didn't want to be sick in front of strangers.
"Oh!" Lupin said, jumping forward. "Sorry. Harry, this is Nymphadora —"
"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," said the witch with a shudder. "It's Tonks."
" — Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," he finished with a smile.
"So would you if your fool of a mother had called you 'Nymphadora,'" muttered Tonks.
Before Lupin could say anything, Harry intervened. "It's nice to meet you. Thanks for my trunk."
Tonks nodded. Lupin put a hand on her shoulders and started leading her out. "Where are we going?" she inquired indignantly.
Lupin ignored her and addressed Harry. "We're going to be flying tonight, so I suggest that you dress warmly. I'll be outside, so just call if you need any help," he offered, giving Harry a look that dared him to protest.
"Alright," Harry said, crouching over his trunk to find thick pants and a jumper. It was better for Lupin to think that he only had a stomach virus and needed to keep warm, rather than for him to suspect something much worse.
After donning warmer clothes, keeping his movements purposefully slow, Harry clasped his cloak and grabbed the Firebolt. He opened the door and saw Lupin leaning against the wall. His former professor nodded, came in and charmed Harry's closed trunk to hover, steering it out of the room, with Hedwig's cage in the other hand. Harry followed him downstairs, his footsteps echoing in the silence.
In the kitchen, Harry was introduced to the large group of witches and wizards who had come to retrieve him. "Hello," Harry said, his voice still very hoarse. All of them turned to greet him, smiles on their faces.
Lupin started doing the introductions again, beginning with a familiar face. "Harry, this is Alastor Moody. And — "
"Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?" Moody growled, his eye spinning towards him. "It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"
"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" asked Lupin wearily.
"A stag," said Harry nervously.
"That's him, Mad-Eye," said Lupin, quickly changing the subject. "Harry, this is Kingsley Shacklebolt," he gestured to a tall, black wizard with a baldhead and a single gold hoop in his ear.
"Elphias Doge" — a wizard nodded at him and said hello in a wheezy-sounding voice — "Dedalus Diggle" — the wizard had a purple top hat that looked vaguely familiar — "Emmeline Vance" — a stately looking witch in an emerald-green shawl inclined her head — "Sturgis Podmore" — a square-jawed wizard with thick, straw-colored hair winked — "and Hestia Jones," he finished, as a pink-cheeked, black haired witch waved from next to the toaster.
Harry greeted each one as they were introduced and wished that they weren't all staring at him as if he were a specimen at the zoo.
"A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you," said Lupin, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he had read his mind.
"Yeah, well, the more the better," Moody said darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."
"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," said Lupin, glancing out of the kitchen window. "We've only got a few minutes, now."
Harry nodded, putting his broom in a corner for just a moment. He needed a glass of water. When he got to the sink, Moody popped out his magical eye and asked for one as well. Harry gave it to him, sipping his own, and watched as the eye spun around, fizzing.
Moody had just popped his eye back in, which Harry was steadfastly ignoring for fear that the spinning would encourage his stomach to start up again, when Lupin explained that he was leaving a letter for the Dursleys. Harry told him it wasn't necessary but he didn't listen.
Moody then called him forward, saying he needed to 'Disillusion' him.
"You need to what?" Harry asked nervously.
"Disillusionment Charm," said Moody, raising his wand. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go — "
Moody tapped Harry hard on the top of his head and a cold feeling trickled down his whole body from that point. He shivered through his jumper.
"Nice one, Mad-Eye," said Tonks appreciatively, staring at Harry's midsection.
Harry looked down, but didn't see what looked like his body. It was as if he had taken on the texture and coloring of anything he was standing in front of. His eyes started playing tricks on him, so he refocused his attention by retrieving his broom.
"Come on," said Moody, unlocking the back door with his wand. The entire group trooped outside, Harry's trunk following.
"Clear night," Moody grunted, his magical eye scanning everything. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," he barked at Harry, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Lupin'll be covering you from below. I'm going to be behind you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed — "
Harry was suddenly very apprehensive. The wood was smooth under his fingers as he clutched his broom tighter. "Is that likely?" he asked, but Moody ignored him.
"— the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you."
"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously," said Tonks, as she strapped Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage into a harness hanging from her broom.
"I'm just telling the boy the plan," growled Moody. "Our job's to deliver him safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt — "
"No one's going to die," said Kingsley Shacklebolt in a deep, calming voice. Harry lessened his grip on the Firebolt but wasn't too reassured. He might not die now, but in a few months…
A shower of bright red sparks flared up into the sky. To Muggles they would look like firecrackers without the sound, but Harry recognized them at once as wand sparks. At Lupin's call, he swung his right leg over his broom, gripped its handle tightly and felt it vibrate. He was as eager as it was to be in the air again, but Harry wished he felt better than he did. His upper arms felt weak and his grip was not as firm as usual. His head felt heavy and he yawned involuntarily.
"Second signal, let's go!" said Lupin loudly, as green sparks exploded.
Harry kicked off from the ground, as hard as he could—which wasn't very. Cool night air caressed his face and ran through his hair as they rapidly ascended. The feeling of flying pushed all thoughts of cancer and his worry over the Ministry hearing aside, even if his physical complaints were not swept away so easily.
Onward they flew, Moody calling out instructions as they went. When Moody wanted to hide in the clouds, Harry was very happy that Tonks refused. He was cold enough already, his hands beyond numb on the Firebolt's handle. It was also getting harder and harder to steer as the wind buffeted his body; he had lost an awful lot of weight since the summer started and his strength was quickly fading. Harry really hoped that they'd be touching down soon.
He was practically dreaming of a warm bath and bed when Moody shouted over the wind.
"We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we're not being followed!"
"ARE YOU MAD, MAD-EYE?" Tonks screamed from the front. "We're all frozen to our brooms! If we keep going off course we're not going to get there until next week! We're nearly there now!"
Harry's numb ears took that in and he sighed in relief. If he had to be out here much longer, he'd fall off his broom!
"Time to start the descent!" came Lupin's voice. "Follow Tonks, Harry!"
He was only too happy to obey as they dived. He focused on breathing slowly as his stomach churned. The large collection of lights grew larger and soon Harry was able to see individual houses and streetlamps.
"Here we go!" called Tonks and seconds later his feet touched the ground.
Harry dismounted in the middle of a small square and shivered as his body started warming up. He swayed slightly as the blood drained from his head to his frozen legs. Leaning on his broom, he saw Tonks unbuckle his trunk from the harness. The other wizards started landing around him and Harry looked reassuringly at Lupin who came forward to help the unsteady teenager.
"Where are we?" Harry asked with a violent shiver. The gloomy street did not look promising.
Lupin looked around, quietly saying, "In a minute."
Moody rummaged in his cloak and pulled out a silver cigarette lighter. He raised it in the air and clicked it numerous times, each time turning out a streetlamp. Soon the only light came from the windows of the houses and the moon above them.
"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody growled, pocketing the Put-Outer. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out of the windows, see? Now, come on, quick."
He led Harry by the arm to the houses across the road. Lupin and Tonks carried Harry's trunk behind them, followed by the rest of the armed guards.
Harry stood next to him, yawning twice and nearly gagging on the strong odor coming from the rotting rubbish sitting just inside a broken gate.
Moody forced Harry to take a piece of parchment and held his lit wand next to it so Harry could read the message. "Here," he said. "Read quickly and memorize."
Harry looked at it and read the narrow, familiar handwriting. It said:
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
"What's the Order of the —?" Harry tried to ask, but Moody snapped at him.
"Not here, boy!" snarled Moody. "Wait till we're inside!" He proceeded to burn the parchment with fire from his wand.
Harry looked at the house in front of him; it was number eleven. To the left of it was number ten and to his right was thirteen. Where was number twelve, Grimmauld Place?
Suddenly a battered door emerged out of nowhere between eleven and thirteen. Everything else squeezed out after it, as if the entire house was being inflated. Harry gaped. The excitement sent a shiver down his spine, making him more alert than he'd been all evening.
"Come on, hurry," Moody said, prodding him painfully in the back. The entire group was ushered up the steps to a door with no keyhole. Lupin tapped the door with his wand and after a series of locks clicked, the door opened with a creak.
"Get in quick, Harry," Lupin whispered. "But don't go far inside and don't touch anything."
Harry obeyed, wrinkling his nose at the damp, dusty and sweetish rotting smell that surrounded him. The rest of the group filed in with Moody at the threshold. He released the Put-Outer and all the lights flew back into the streetlamps before he came inside.
"Here — " he said, hitting Harry on the head again. This time, a warm trickling sensation came over his body, indicating a release of the Disillusionment Charm. Moody then whispered. "Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light in here."
Uneasiness stirred in Harry's stomach. Why were they being so quiet? The gas lamps lining the walls, hissed as they lit up, illuminating a dilapidated hallway. The teenager took a good look around, feeling off about the décor.
Hurried footsteps at the far end of the hall revealed a smiling Mrs. Weasley. Harry was saddened at how thin and pale she had gotten since he last saw her just over a month ago. Granted, the same could be said about him.
"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispered, pulling him into a very tight hug. She then held him at arm's length and examined him critically. Mrs. Weasley frowned. "Dear, are you feeling alright? You're looking awfully peaky…"
Harry smiled weakly and shivered. The hallway felt drafty to him. Before he could answer, Mrs. Weasley turned to address the wizards and witches behind him.
"He's just arrived, the meeting's started…" she said urgently. The group moved to the door at the end of the hall. Harry tried to follow Lupin, but Mrs. Weasley held him back. "No, Harry, the meeting's only for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione are upstairs; you can wait with them until the meeting's over. Try to get some rest. I'll come up for you after and we'll have some dinner." As an after thought, she added, "And keep your voice down in the hall."
"Why?"
"I don't want to wake anything up."
"What d'you —?"
"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry. I'm supposed to be at the meeting — I'll just show you where you're sleeping."
Harry wanted to protest, but he was also reluctant to give up a chance at sleep. The adrenaline was wearing off and he felt more tired than before. So he gave in and followed Ron's mother down the hall and up a dark staircase. There were shriveled house-elf heads mounted on the walls and the gloominess sent a different sort of shiver up his spine. What were they doing in a house that clearly belonged to Dark Wizards?
"Mrs. Weasley, why —?"
"Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear. I've really got to dash," she whispered distractedly. "There, you're the door on the right. Get some sleep and I'll call you when it's over."
And she hurried off downstairs again.
Harry sighed and tiredly opened the door.
As Sirius ushered them through the doorway, Harry stepped into the dully-lit room that served as kitchen, dining room and Order meeting room. The only light was coming from the burning fireplace, and a haze of smoke clouded the upper atmosphere. The table, crammed with chairs, was strewn with parchment, goblets and wine bottles. A pile of rags that smelled oddly familiar lay at one end as Mr. Weasley and Bill talked quietly at the other.
Mrs. Weasley immediately took charge, startling Mr. Weasley and Bill. As the former greeted him kindly and with vigorous handshaking, Bill hastily gathered up the parchment still left on the table.
"Journey all right, Harry?" Bill called, trying to hold twelve scrolls at once. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?"
"He tried," said Tonks, striding over to help Bill and immediately sending a candle toppling onto the last piece of parchment. "Oh no — sorry —"
"Here, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, in a frustrated tone as she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand. Harry spotted the outline of a building when the light illuminated the scroll.
Mrs. Weasley spotted his glance and snatched the plan off the table, stuffing it into Bill's already full arms.
"This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings," she snapped before sweeping off to an ancient dresser for the dinner plates.
Sirius ushered Harry to a chair as Bill vanished the scrolls. "Sit down, Harry. You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"
The pile of rags snored and promptly jerked awake. "Some'n say m' name?" Mundungus mumbled sleepily. "I 'gree with Sirius…"
Harry smiled and Ginny giggled as Mundungus tried to 'vote'.
"The meeting's over, Dung," said Sirius, as everyone else joined them at the table. "Harry's arrived."
"Eh?" asked Mundungus as he eyed Harry. "Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah… you all right, 'arry?"
"Yeah."
Mundungus proceeded to pull out a pipe and be scolded by Mrs. Weasley. When he had put away the pipe and cleared the green smoke, Ron's mother asked for assistance in the kitchen.
Harry stood up to help but Mrs. Weasley insisted that he sit down. Gratefully, he sank down in the chair. As loathe as he was to admit it, he was exhausted from the aftermath of his weekly treatments and the journey to London. Ron and Hermione's presence and his added anger over his unanswered questions had kept him from getting much-needed sleep. His only relief that whole evening was the abatement of nausea.
Soon, Harry was left with only Sirius and Mundungus at the table as everyone else scurried around at Mrs. Weasley's command. He chatted with Sirius, noting uncomfortably that his godfather seemed more put out and cynical than before. However, they shared a mutual dislike of Dumbledore, which brightened Harry's spirits a bit.
And after a touch of mayhem, courtesy of the twins, and a rather large bruise on Harry's elbow from knocking into the floor, they all sat down for a very quiet dinner.
While the others chatted amongst themselves, Harry eyed the normalcy of the evening. He was surrounded by his friends and godfather and they were happy. Well, not perfectly happy, with the thought of war just on the horizon but happier than they would be if he told them he was dying. Harry just wanted to live the next few months like this: with them not pitying him, not mourning before he was dead and just living as best they could with Voldemort around.
A gale of laughter from the middle of the table pulled Harry out of his thoughts. Fred, George, and Ron were rolling around in their seats as Mundungus exalted on his latest escapade. Harry smiled as Dung delivered his punch line.
Mrs. Weasley proceeded to scold the thief, yet again, and got up to retrieve the pudding, passing on a nasty look to Sirius.
Harry turned a raised eyebrow to his godfather and Sirius explained that Mrs. Weasley was only angry with Mundungus because he slipped off duty while tailing him. Harry gulped when he realized how angry she would be with him when he finally told them that he was sick. She was going to be furious.
After a helping of the crumble, Harry had to put down his spoon and refused seconds. He was already feeling awfully full from the hearty stew and didn't think he could stomach much more. Everyone else had several more helpings and eventually they all were leaning back in their chairs, looking full, relaxed and sleepy.
"Nearly time for bed, I think," said Mrs. Weasley with a yawn.
"Not just yet, Molly," said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."
The atmosphere changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of Dementors. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. Lupin lowered his goblet, forgoing his sip of wine, and looked wary.
"I did!" Harry said, looking around the table. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so —"
"And they're quite right," said Mrs. Weasley. "You're too young." She was sitting upright in her chair, her fists clenched on its arms, no drowsiness to be seen.
Heat filled his stomach and Harry was sure that it was rising to his face. Too young. Too young.
"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" asked Sirius. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen —"
"Hang on!" George interrupted loudly.
"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" said Fred angrily.
"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said George.
"'You're too young, you're not in the Order,'" imitated Fred, sounding uncannily like his mother. "Harry's not even of age!"
The words stung him slightly, but a dark voice within him repeated his diagnosis. He had a disease that might possibly kill him before he became of age… of course, Voldemort could do the same thing with two whispered words.
"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Sirius calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand —"
Can make my own decisions, Harry thought, remembering his treatments. He had made the choice to start them. He had forged his uncle's signature. He had been taking care of himself since he was a baby and if he was going to deal with his own death, then he should be able to decide if he was old enough to hear what Voldemort was up to.
"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kind face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"
"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight.
"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," said Mrs. Weasley with emphasis.
Too young. More than he needs to know. The anger in his stomach snapped and Harry stood up, pushing his chair back forcefully. "Stop it!" he shouted, a darkness twisting his features.
Everyone at the table was shocked, not just that Harry interrupted, but that he had stopped an argument between Sirius Black and Molly Weasley.
"Stop. Fighting," Harry said coolly, the iciness in his voice not doing a bit to calm the wrath raging in his stomach. "I have been captured, tortured and nearly killed. I almost had my soul sucked out of me four days ago! I'm NOT a child and I deserve to know what's going on!"
He looked at the adults and the burning rose to his chest.
"Voldemort has gotten his hands on me before, and he can do it again, and you lot are just making it easier for him!" Harry shouted, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm not an idiot. We're not idiots! And I'm his number one target. And even though you think I'm too young to be in the Order and I'm too young to fight against Voldemort, I am not too young to die!"
The fire inside him began to cool, now just smoldering. He glared fiercely around the table and waited for anyone to speak. At last, Remus cleared his throat.
"Well," he said. "I think Harry's made his point. He's old enough to decide for himself."
Harry refused to look at Mrs. Weasley, partly from shame and mostly because he didn't want to lose his nerve.
"Very well," she said shakily. "Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George — I want you out of this kitchen, now."
His friends immediately began to protest.
"We're of age!" Fred and George shouted together.
"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron argued.
"Mum, I want to!" Ginny wailed.
"NO!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, rising to her feet. "I absolutely forbid —"
Mr. Weasley proceeded to argue in Fred and George's favor, granting them permission to stay.
"Ron — ," Mrs. Weasley began, but Ron interrupted.
"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" said Ron heatedly. "Won't — won't you?" he added nervously, meeting Harry's eyes.
The dark voice within him, that had made so many decisions as of late, reared up and nearly convinced him to deny his friends the information. But sense and reason charged in when he gazed into Ron's deep blue eyes. He couldn't do that to his friend.
"'Course I will," Harry said, generating simultaneous grins from Ron and Hermione.
"Fine!" Mrs. Weasley yelled. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"
A small tinge of guilt wiggled in his stomach as they heard Ginny shout and rage at her mother all the way up to her room. He could very well have spoken up for her, but Harry knew it was safer for them all if she heard the information secondhand, later. Mrs. Weasley would not take kindly to letting them all hear what Sirius and Lupin had to say.
After Lupin had silenced the portraits woken up by Ginny, and they all had settled down around the table, Sirius spoke.
"Okay, Harry … what do you want to know?"
"Like a weapon. Something he didn't have the last time," Sirius said.
"When he was powerful before?"
"Yes."
"Like what kind of weapon?" asked Harry. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ?"
"That's enough."
Just when they were getting to the actual information, Mrs. Weasley tried to stop Sirius and Lupin. She was standing in the shadows next to the door. Harry hadn't noticed her come back, but her arms were crossed and she was furious.
"I want you in bed, now. All of you," she said, looking around at Fred, George, Ron and Hermione.
"You can't boss us — " Fred began.
"Watch me," she snarled. She trembled slightly as she looked at Sirius. "You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway."
"No he hasn't," Harry said calmly, standing up. "All I've found out is that Dumbledore's assembled the Order, that the Order's talking to people and that the Ministry's afraid of Voldemort. That's obvious! What sort of weapon does Voldemort want?"
Mrs. Weasley looked apoplectic with rage. "That information is for Order members only," she seethed, "and since you lot are not in the Order, you are not privy to it."
Rage writhed in Harry's belly, but before he could argue further, Lupin spoke.
"She's right, Harry," he said. "The Order is comprised only of overage wizards. Wizards who have left school," he added pointedly. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you… I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough."
Harry watched as Sirius shrugged, defeated in his argument. The anger seeped into his bones at the unfairness of the situation. But when all his friends had gotten to their feet, Harry reluctantly rose too. Mrs. Weasley frog marched the lot of them upstairs, a grim look on her face.
Once he and Ron had been left in their room and the twins had stopped by for a visit, Harry let the anger within him subside. Exhaustion seeped through him and he let himself fall into a deep sleep.
A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience and encouraging reviews! I am so sorry that it took me six months to get this up, but I had wanted to add more to it than this. Sadly, I just started my last year of uni and homework, studying and my part-time job are eating away at my free time. Therefore I decided that you all deserve to see the next bit of this and enjoy it while I work on the next part.
Originally, this was to be the first part of chapter 5 (and the part I haven't written yet was to be the second). However, since I am really behind on everything, you all are getting a shorter chapter while I work on the second part. Just so y'all know, we should be getting to Hogwarts in another couple of chapters, depending on how long they turn out to be. In my defense, OoTP has one of the longest summer intros ever!
Again, (reiterating from the end of the last chapter) you will find many parts in the upcoming chapters that are very much like or identical to J.K. Rowling's books. I realize this and I'm giving her the credit for all that wonderfulness. The fact is, to merge my idea with her books, there will be some overlap. I, however, will avoid copying word for word, so I am trying to paraphrase or skip long sections that are purely from Rowling. Bear with me!
Anyway, I hope you all liked this chapter as I worked really hard on it. Please let me know what you think! Thanks!