x
I've doubted my ability to convince Dumbledore to let me spend this week in Grimmauld Place and not force me to return to Hogwarts, but I got some unexpected help from Bill and Charlie there; they asked the Headmaster themselves, offering to help me catch up with my studies in return for my keeping Bill occupied while Fleur was gone.
That is how I came to be sitting on the side of Bill's bed at eight in the morning. I've considered bringing a chair, but discarded the idea quickly; our physical proximity fills the room with a low hum not unlike wards, and I can't be bothered to give it up for some illusion of propriety. Nevertheless, there are spells on the door to alert us if anyone is coming in.
Despite his condition, Bill doesn't sleep much. He gets bored quickly, since he's used to have something to do at all times, and then becomes edgy and easily irritable. Fleur has been seen storming out of his room several times. I understand quite well how frustrating it can be – forbidden to do magic and unable to touch anything with his hands. He can't even read a book… at least on his own he can't.
"What do you want to start with?" he asks, eyeing the stack of books Dumbledore had delivered for me. I could pretend that I don't know the stuff, but Bill's spent too much time with me to fall for my charade, and going over these schoolbooks would be a loss of potentially valuable time.
"Would you teach me something else?" He looks at the cover of the Defence textbook, and frowns. I don't need him to tell me that this subject matter is going to be essential for me – I knew that since I got the book and acted accordingly. "I could take the finals today and pass, Bill," I assure him. He looks dubious but takes my word on it.
"What do you want me to teach to you?"
"Magical theory and general curse-breaking," I reply without hesitation. I've seen his books, even read few of those that were in English. He's highly specialised in Egyptian tomb raiding, but to get so far he had to go through extensive training in less specific fields first.
He breaks into a smile.
"The suitcase is under the bed, Harry." I remember it – it's the one I've helped him carry. The one full of books.
x
"There's something different about you, Harry," Remus announces when I come into the lounge, once again thrown out by Fleur. After hours spent with Bill I'm in a good mood – not exhilarated, but he's a great company even when we're not having sex. Remus's suspicions are mite uncomfortable, but I'm reasonably sure that he doesn't really know anything. He might have subconsciously noticed some minor differences from the old me (which he didn't pay all that much attention to, anyway), or he could have smelt something…
"Is there?" I ask, feigning a surprise. He frowns and scrutinises me closely to get to the bottom of the newest mystery.
"He's not wearing glasses, of course," Tonks establishes from the doorway and dances in, putting an arm around Remus's waist. I thought they wanted to keep their relationship secret, but I can't say I feel anything about it. Hope they are happy together and cast Silencing Charms when the get it on.
"You're right!" Remus exclaims. "But I saw you reading…"
"Don't need them anymore," I explain calmly and settle in a loveseat that must be a new addition to the furniture. It's way too cushy for my comfort and after a moment of deliberating I relocate onto the floor. The carpet is just soft enough.
"How?" he growls. "I for a fact know that there are not spells exact enough to correct vision…"
I blink up at him, startled. Where does he get off talking to me like that? I would very much like to tell him to piss off and stop sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, but it wouldn't exactly fit with my crafted Boy Who Lived persona.
"Remus… It was a lucky freak accident, alright? I can't explain it." Which is the truth, but misleading approximately like Dumbledore's wise cracks.
"When did it happen?"
Why won't he stop hounding me?! I hide my glower behind a book that is spelled to look like History of Magic (with just about anything else I might encounter a soul who would wish to help me learn).
"About a fortnight ago."
"Were there any side-effects? Did you see a Healer?"
Yeah, there were fucking side effects. And no, I saw no Healer.
"I feel fine, Remus," I say blandly.
"I'm calling Poppy now," he informs me, and aims for the fireplace.
"Snape said I was alright!" I call after him in annoyance. It's not exactly true, but I want him and all the Healers in the world to leave me alone. I want to never again set foot inside a hospital. And I want Remus to stop treating me like his child when he couldn't be bothered about me three weeks ago.
"Remus!" Tonks comes to my aid, giving me a conspiratorial wink. I smile back at her and grimace at her back once it's turned. She races after her lover to persuade him to give me some breathing space.
x
I'm tired of Remus's fussing, tired of Mrs Weasley incessant moaning, tired of Tonks's chumminess. I play the good little Golden Boy puppet and they are all ecstatic to see me so well behaved and calm. I cherish every second spent with Bill. Our time together is filled with one of the most exciting branches of magic I've encountered so far. I can totally understand what led him to become a curse-breaker. It's fascinating… and I seem to have talent for it.
In my effort to avoid socialisation I pretend to be studious and eager to make up for what I've missed – under this guise I read two to three books a day. There is a lot of references to Ancient Runes and I'm determined to read up on that as well (could be something to do with my free time until Christmas holidays). Unfortunately, Bill's textbooks were inherited by Percy, who kept them, and thus I was left to scour the Black library. I found some older editions, and – here comes the silver lining – Ancient Runes aren't changing with the times. The tomes stink and the parchment crumbles around the edges, but they will have to do.
I'm actually entranced in Spatio-temporal Magick, when a crack has me pulling out my wand in reflex.
There is no danger imminent, though (which I would have known if I had taken the time to realise that I'm still in the ancestral abode of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black), and I relax, letting my hand down.
"Hello, Dorraz," I greet the house elf, who, in turn, scowls at me. This is one Malfoy servant that I don't have much appreciation for. She used to be Narcissa's 'personal assistant', and the experience left her as snooty as a house elf could possibly be.
"Master Harry Potter," she replies with a marginal bow, not an inch deeper than required. "My Master Lord Malfoy sends me with regards and a message for you."
I put the book down and straighten, facing her with as much regal nattiness as I can fake.
"Speak," I command. I like to treat house elves with kindness, but Dorraz doesn't appreciate it, and tends to scoff at me when I do so. I've learnt to be short and disinterested with her, and she keeps her disdain for me hidden. I wonder if a beating would make her like me… but I'm not going to try it.
"Lord Malfoy wishes me to inform you that the Dark Lord Riddle has planned an assault on Whipsnade Park Zoo in Bedfordshire in order to purloin several magical creatures with the intention to use them in warfare."
Fabulous. Just what we needed… although it's quite comprehensible, and we should have expected it. We've thinned Terrordemort's lines so rapidly, that he needs new allies anon. On the other hand, in the face of his recent defeats, it must be difficult to convince worthwhile wizards and magical beings to join him.
"When does he plan to attack?"
"As soon as he amasses his forces," Dorraz replies tightly.
"Do you know when that will be?"
"Yes."
I'm becoming annoyed with her, too. It's not a rare occurrence – she does have a not nice habit of irritating me – but I'm usually not as fed up with almost everyone as I am today.
"Tell me everything you know about the planned attack on Whipsnade Zoo!" There. Can't be much more concise and exact than that. Dorraz tries to suppress a grin, happy with having managed to get a rise out of me. I sometimes wonder if Draco puts her up to it, or if it is just that all Malfoy house elves have very strange personalities.
She relents, however, and fills me in with dedication to her role that I can't help but commend.
x
On Sunday morning the general atmosphere in Grimmauld Place is glum, filled with tangible fear, but I feel like laughing. This irrational happiness comes from Bill sitting next to me in the lounge, eating on his own and cleared by Snape to do magic again. He wears gloves reaching past his elbow, silk on the inside, leather on the outside, but otherwise is capable of perfectly normal life.
Well, as normal as it gets in this location with this company.
At eleven, a meeting of selected members of the Order starts, and I sit in (without asking for permission, but I would like to see them try and boot me out). Neither Dumbledore nor Moody could make it, so it is under the unofficial lead of Remus, who turns out to be totally incompetent in the position of a moderator.
They start by rehashing what all they have (not) done since the last meeting and, as usually, it seems to me that they are just waiting for Voldemort to get his act back together so he can raid a few more towns.
Nothing is happening.
Then, tired of the incompetence – although I must admit that they are not likely to have the means necessary to do anything useful anyway – I have Bill relay Draco's report on the house elves' findings. Being the first substantial information to be heard at the meeting, it causes a lot of ruckus.
"Why a Zoo? Has he gone totally loony?"
"It makes no sense!"
"Malfoy's pulling our leg!"
I meet Snape's eyes across the room. He's lurking in his second most favourite corner of the room, annoyed at being required to attend and downright resentful towards the rampant bigotry.
"Shut up!" bellows a tiny man from the second (and last) row of seats in a high-pitched yet surprisingly loud voice. The idiots are shocked into silence, several in the adjacent seats reaching up to their ears.
"Truckle," Bill whispers to me. I nod, but don't look at him, watching a woman next to the tiny man stand up and clear her throat in a way that doesn't make me squeeze it.
"It does make sense…" she states evenly, with an undercurrent of derision for her audience. There is a scholarly air around her, accentuated by the quill sticking out from the pocket of her over-large man's coat. "The number of purebloods that died in the July Battle of Hogwarts is alarming. Those who bought into Big Bastard's racist fanaticism have been eradicated, and those who survived are unlikely to join him after such a defeat, so he's got to search for a new support base. He can't simply abandon his pureblood supremacist propaganda, lest he be seen as a turncoat and, again, unlikely to sway followers."
I get that. I think. There was a lot of big words in a really small space, but I think I understand what she's saying. I agree… I might have come to the same conclusion (with smaller words) have I taken time to think about it myself. Snape seems to also support the explanation, and his opinion has a lot of weight… for me, at least. The bigoted idiots around us are mostly incapable of realising that views different than their own might even exist.
"He wants to use creatures?"
Of course he does. It wouldn't make sense not to use them… though I can't see how he could control a dragon for example, or a chimera.
"What sorts of creatures are housed in Whipsnade?" I ask, receiving several disapproving looks from people around the room, reminding me that I don't actually belong there and if I don't learn to keep my mouth shut, I'll get thrown out on my arse.
Again, I'd like to see them try. I'm not afraid of them, though I don't bother giving them as much as a glare in return. I watch the Ravenclaw-like lady, who seems delighted to have at least a single listener willing to use a brain-cell or two.
"You'd have to find records on that, young man. But when I last visited, there was a couple of Welsh Greens and an entire swarm of little swamp dragons. Cute most of the time, but in battle they might cause Bedlam," she sounds a bit too cheerful about that, but considering that it seems hilarious to Snape, too, I refrain from calling her out on it.
I – and a few others – nod thoughtfully. I've seen pictures of swamp dragons, since Hagrid didn't manage to get one for his lesson, and I would hate to have to both go against such a creature and kill it.
"They have dozens of smaller creatures, mostly harmless. I've heard their only harpy died…"
"We need those records," Kingsley Shacklebolt interrupts. He's level-headed, I hand him that. Calm and clever. The Order needs more men like him, but they are woefully sparse…
"Can you secure a copy in your official capacity?" the standing lady asks him. He hesitantly nods.
"As soon as possible, please, Kingsley," Remus concludes, as if it was all we needed. I glare at him (covertly – fortunately no one pays attention to me either way). I'm not too good in strategy – I get slaughtered at chess by almost anyone – but even I know better than that.
Bill squeezes my shoulder, grounding me so that I don't blow up, and speaks in my stead, as it has been already shown that my ideas are not deemed worthy of being listened to.
"We need a map of the location – preferably blueprints – map of the surroundings, layout of Muggle and wizarding enclosures, which creatures are housed where, how many guards are there, security system…"
I lean over and whisper into Bill's ear, earning a glare from Fleur: "Photos."
"And it would be beneficial if you could get pictures of the sites," Bill adds.
Most of the room is stunned into silence. Snape is smirking at them, the Ravenclaw-like lady sits down with a hint of smugness about her, Remus is catching flies into his mouth, Bill sits as straight as a fence-pole with a very attractive lightning in his eyes, which Fleur totally misses because she's still glaring at me so hard. I struggle to keep my blank mask, thoroughly enjoying the situation.
x
Pictures are all nice and stuff, but I get a better idea. I catch Remus in the kitchen in the evening – I'm enjoying a glass of Sirius's (my – he willed it to me) wine; he's sneaking in for a snack.
"Harry! You really shouldn't be drinking-"
Oh, spare me. I shouldn't be drinking, shouldn't be having sex, shouldn't be killing. Funny, how I'm being introduced to the adult world in the reverse order, compared to the teenagers around me. Either way, Remus has no right to bitch about it, and I cut him off.
"Want some?"
He sputters for a moment, and then categorically refuses, taking a breath to continue with his rant. I'd really rather he not.
"Remus, I was thinking about the Whipsnade action. Wouldn't it be practical to send some people to check out the site in person?" Of course it would be, but I'm not supposed to tell our 'leaders' what to do, and this way at least it doesn't sound like I'm trying to. I hope.
"It might be…" Remus carefully concedes. I struggle to keep a grin off my face.
"I'd volunteer."
He scowls at me disapprovingly, pondering my suggestion. I know he sees the merit in it – after all, it is the standard measure when preparing a counter-attack (or attack, or anything, really…), but I can clearly see that he's unhappy about me going to Zoo.
Isn't that just the height of irony? Whoever I have controlling my life seems to be adamant about not letting me have much of it. I promise to myself that if I get a chance to be free one day, I'll make it up to me.
"You cannot be seen there before the attack, Harry. The Death Eaters would suspect that we were warned…"
"Neither I, nor any known or suspected member of the Order, Remus," I reply coolly. That's obvious, isn't it? "I, and whoever goes with me, will be disguised."
He shakes his head.
"I'm sorry, Harry. It just isn't possible. When it's safe, I promise I'll take you there, alright?"
Apparently, he figured out a part of my motivation. That doesn't mean that I haven't intended to really look out and pay attention to the strategic side of things, but Remus simply can't bring himself to think of me as a soldier. He still sees his best friend's kid, at times perhaps his student, and for all that he has me call him Remus, I doubt he would ever accept me as an equal.
It doesn't really hurt, thanks goodness. I'm alright with it. But… Bloody… Does Remus have to be so smart? He's way too difficult to manipulate. I wish I'd gone to Slytherin when I had the chance…
I take the wine, having all of the bottle to myself, since Remus is such a proper example of integrity that he wouldn't drink alcohol where I can see him, and walk out of the room. He tries to call me back and force me to leave the wine there, but it's mine and I don't hesitate to Silence him so that he would leave me alone.
Gods, I wish Fleur would choke to death on her lipstick and Bill would come shag me tonight.