Harry Potter and the Seventh Serpent
Summary: Follows directly on from the end of book six – the search for the Horcruxes
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Bill/Fleur, Lupin/Tonks, Ron/Hermione, Hermione/OC, Ginny/OC, Harry/Ginny, Gabrielle/Harry…some surprise pairings I don't want to spoil, and more I've either forgotten about or haven't decided on yet
Warnings: Bad language, violence, character death…and probably slash, knowing me
Disclaimer: I own the plot, and any OCs who appear. Harry and Co belong to JKR
Author's Notes: I'll admit it – I'm only writing this because I'm so damn sick of waiting for the real seventh book to come out. I'm impatient…so sue me.
Chapter 2 – The Odeon
Wherein Breakfast is served, and Mindy the House-Elf believes Hermione to be Insane
Harry squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the merciless assault of sunlight, praying it would go away if he ignored it for long enough. As it seemed to flicker in his blurred vision he became aware of a sensation of motion. He groaned and raised an arm to shield his eyes.
"Morning, Harry." He cracked an eyelid open and saw Tonks grinning at him. She looked utterly exhausted – her hair had reverted to a mousy brown and there were shadows under her eyes – but she also looked inexplicably cheerful.
"Where are we?" he asked, sitting up and looking around. They were coming up on the outskirts of a large city, and he hadn't even the vaguest idea where they were; "And what time is it?"
"We're almost there," Tonks said, waving a vague arm at the city ahead; "And it…bloody hell, it's seven in the morning. I'm never driving from Surrey to Glasgow again. Never."
As they drove along a bridge over a broad river, Harry sat up in his seat to get a better look at the city the Order had made its new home. The architecture was an odd combination of beautiful old sandstone buildings and soaring glass and steel towers: but rather than clashing, the two styles complimented each other. There were a surprising number of trees for the centre of a city, and a lot of the paved streets seemed to be pedestrianised. Tonks navigated the bewildering system of one-way streets with a little difficulty and parked the car in a multi-story car park off a narrow, cobbled street.
"Come on," she said; "We're better off walking from here."
The city was even more fascinating on foot. Cafés and bars were just opening, setting out tables in the brilliantly sunlit streets to feed bleary-eyed businessmen on their way to work. The old sandstone buildings seemed dominant in this part of the city, and even at this early hour the streets were bustling with people. Harry found himself almost as fascinated as the first time he'd visited Diagon Alley as Tonks pointed out cafés she liked, nightclubs she'd visited, and some of the more interesting shops. She even gave a brief description of the route and entrance to the magical district – Sinick Alley – a restaurant and hotel called the Silver Dragon by the riverfront.
She led the way to the alley behind a boarded-up cinema and – with a furtive glance around – prodded the locked door with her wand. It swung open, and she gestured for Harry to get inside before anyone saw them.
Harry's first thought upon entering the building was how much nicer it was than Grimmauld Place – beams of sunlight streamed in through tall stained-glass windows which had appeared to be nothing more than grubby brick from the outside. The entrance hall was a large room three floors tall with walls of dark wood. There were arches all around leading to other rooms, and a grand sweeping flight of stairs which led up to a gallery around the floor above, and another flight of stairs to the gallery on the top floor. The floor was of the same dark wood, partially covered by a deep red carpet.
"Harry!" He looked up at the sound of someone delightedly shrieking his name and saw Hermione standing up on the gallery. She ran down the stairs, taking the steps three at a time, and threw her arms around him.
"Oh good, Hermione can show you around," Tonks said brightly, turning to walk away and walking face-first into a closed door; "Oh bugger this, I'm going to bed…" she muttered, rubbing her forehead, and slouched up the stairs. Hermione and Harry exchanged glances and hastily smothered their laughter.
"So, do you want to go to bed too, or should I show you around?" Hermione asked.
"I slept in the car on the way up here, so I'm not tired. Where is everyone?"
She gave him a strange look; "It's half past seven in the morning, Harry. Everyone's still in bed."
"Oh…oh yeah."
He let her guide him through all the different rooms as they chatted happily about nothing in particular. She had saved the kitchen for last – and with good reason as it turned out, because Mrs. Weasley was in there making breakfast for everyone. As soon as she saw Harry, she abandoned the frying pan she was wielding to hug him tightly.
"Oh, you look so dreadfully thin dear, come over here and have something to eat while I fix breakfast. How have your holidays been?"
"Uh…fine," Harry said, gratefully picking up a piece of toast.
"I'll go tell everyone you've arrived," Hermione said, heading for the door.
"Tell Ron and Ginny to come down here and help me get breakfast ready!" Mrs. Weasley called after her. Hermione nodded and disappeared through the door. "Open that other door, will you dear?" Mrs. Weasley added, glancing over at Harry. He did so, and several platters of food soared through to settle on a large oak table – presumably that was the dining room. It could probably have seated forty people if pressed.
Hermione came back into the kitchen followed by a bleary-eyed Ginny, and Ron, who had his t-shirt on backwards. The siblings brightened up immeasurably when they saw Harry. Ginny hugged him tightly with a squeal. She looked at him for a moment as she pulled away, and then gave a regretful sigh and kissed him on the cheek.
"Alright there, mate?" Ron said with an awkward grin to fill the uncomfortable silence; "Nice place this, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed, "Definitely better than Grimmauld Place."
Mrs. Weasley began ordering them around, leaving little time for talking. Plates and cutlery were laid out on the table with military precision, and platters of food continued to fly through and land neatly on the dark wood. It was after eight o'clock when she sent them upstairs to wake everyone else up.
"It's pretty nice here," Ron said on the way up the stairs.
"But there are downsides," Hermione added; "Like…oh dear, here she comes."
"Who?" Harry asked, looking around.
"Faith," Ginny said quietly, pointing.
Faith, as it turned out, was a ghost; the ghost of a little girl in a billowing white nightgown. She drifted serenely along the hallway and came to a halt in front of the four teenagers.
"Good morning," she smiled. Harry stared.
"Good morning, Faith," Hermione said with a slightly forced smile; "This is-"
"Harry Potter," Faith cut her off; "Aye, I know. Nice to meet you, Harry. I'd shake your hand, but…you know."
"Uh…yeah. Nice to meet you too." He looked at the little girl, wondering how she had died so young…
"Tuberculosis," she supplied; "I was eight."
He stared at her in amazement; "You can…?"
"…read minds? As a matter of fact I can. It's always been more of a curse than a gift, really." She considered the group; "You're hungry – go downstairs. I'll wake everyone else up." Her manner of speaking seemed a little odd, and it took him a moment to realise that the sentence was neither a question nor a command, but simply a statement of fact.
They filed back into the kitchen along with the first of the semiconscious residents. The few who were awake enough to register his presence greeted Harry warmly, and the rest followed suit once they had revived a little. Sitting around the ancient oak table were the entire Weasley family – minus the twins, Bill and, of course, Percy – Tonks, Lupin, Oliver Wood, and miscellaneous other Order members, the majority of whose names escaped Harry at that particular moment.
"…lovely place, this," Hestia Jones was saying, waving half a sausage around as if to illustrate her point; "Very kind of you to let us use it, Wood."
Oliver Wood – who Harry had been watching surreptitiously for some time – jumped slightly at being addressed unexpectedly before inclining his head in acknowledgement. He looked pale and tired, and the shadows under his eyes suggested that he had not been getting a lot of sleep. He turned back to his toast as the conversation ebbed around him, tempered by the earliness of the hour. He glanced up at Harry, and – to the younger boy's surprise – winked.
Harry, sitting between Ron and Hermione, had noticed a very significant absence from the table; "Where's Fleur?" Ron made incoherent noises around a mouthful of bacon.
"She's gone back to France to get her family for the wedding," Hermione translated.
"When is it?"
"Next Sunday. I think they're arriving next Friday."
"Mum's been going mental over the planning," Ron added, managing some semblance of coherence now his mouth was no longer overflowing with food. He cast a longing look at the last fried egg, which Ginny promptly snagged. Watching the Weasley children eat was an education for Harry and Hermione, neither of whom had any siblings – the aim appeared to be to eat as much as possible in as little time as possible. Harry supposed that in a family with seven children you learned quickly to get the best food before someone else did.
When breakfast was over, Harry, Ron and Hermione slipped off as quickly as possible before they were made to help clean up. They went upstairs and leaned against the railing of the gallery, watching the various Order members leaving to do whatever it was they did or sneaking upstairs to catch another hour's sleep. After this got boring they made their way to the room Harry and Ron would be sharing. It was a pleasant, cozy room, and it reminded Harry a little of the dormitories at Hogwarts.
"Are you tired?" Hermione asked.
"No, I'm fine," Harry said, and was slightly surprised to find that this was true; "I slept in the car on the way up. I'm not tired."
"Lucky you," Ron mumbled, yawning; "Mindy decided to come in and dust at five in the morning for some reason. I think she's annoyed 'cause Mum won't let her cook."
"Mindy?" Harry asked. Although from the look on Hermione's face he thought he could guess.
"She's a house-elf," Hermione said with a scowl, confirming Harry's suspicions; "Cleaning constantly, poor Mindy!"
"Is young mistress calling Mindy?" an anxious voice enquired from the doorway.
Harry turned; hovering nervously by the door was the tiniest house-elf he had ever seen. In the department of strange dress sense she could have rivaled Dobby – she wore what looked like a multicoloured curtain wrapped around her in a style reminiscent of a sari.
"No-one called you, Mindy," Hermione said kindly while Harry and Ron exchanged long-suffering looks behind her back; "You don't have to wait on us all the time."
The tiny house-elf was looking at Hermione as if seriously doubting her sanity; "Mindy enjoys serving her masters, young mistress," she said timidly but firmly…and disappeared before Hermione could continue being aggressively nice. The young witch looked slightly offended.
"So, what's the rest of this place like then?" Harry asked, hoping to divert a house-elf related rant. He seemed to have struck lucky, because Hermione's face suddenly lit up.
"Oh, we have to show you the roof!" she beamed; "There's a beautiful rooftop garden – under a glamour of course so the Muggles don't see it – and apparently-"
Harry smiled faintly and let Hermione's voice wash over him as Ron's head drooped and he began to snore gently. He was warm and well fed and with his friends… For the first time that summer, he felt like he was home.
TO BE CONTINUED
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