Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter; all characters/ settings etc, from the books and or movies are property of J.K Rowling and whatever Movie producer attached additional copyright to the franchise. I write merely for my own amusement and to improve my skills.


The Order of the Phoenix

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number 12, Grimmauld Place, London.

"What's the Order of the -?" Harry began.

"Not here, boy!" snarled Moody. "Wait till we're inside!"

He pulled the piece of parchment out of Harry's hand and set fire to it with his wand-tip. As the message curled into flames and floated to the ground, Harry looked around at the houses again. They were standing outside number eleven; he looked to the left and saw number ten; to the right, however, was number thirteen.

"But where's-?"

"Think about what you've just memorized," said Lupin quietly.

Harry thought, and no sooner had he reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, than a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of the way. Harry gaped at it. The stereo in number eleven thudded on. Apparently the Muggles inside hadn't felt anything.

"Come on, hurry," growled Moody, prodding Harry in the back.

Harry growled back, hefting his broom he stormed up the worn stone steps. The black paint of the newly materialized door was shabby and scratched. The silver doorknocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox.

Lupin pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. Harry heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open.

"Get in quick, Harry," Lupin whispered, "but don't go far inside, and don't touch anything."

Harry stepped over the threshold into the darkness beyond. He could smell damp, dust and the musty scent of rot. The place had the feeling of a derelict building. He could see little in the light from the open door, just a long hallway. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the others filing behind him. Tonks and Lupin were carrying his trunk. Moody stood just outside the door on the top step releasing the balls of light captured from the streetlamps. With each flick of the Put-Outer a little orange ball zoomed back across the square to its bulb. The sooty light briefly illuminated the square before Moody limped inside and closed the door behind him.

"Here – "

He rapped Harry hard on the top of the head. Harry felt like something hot was running down his back, and he knew that the Disillusionment Charm had been lifted.

"No, everyone stay put while I give us a bit of light," Moody whispered.

"Why is everyone whispering?" Harry asked.

"Wizard portraits, Harry," Lupin hissed in his ear. "We don't want to wake them up."

There was a hiss and a sputtering sound, and then old-fashioned gas lanterns flickered to life all along the hallway. In the fluttering, insubstantial light Harry saw the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet of a long, gloomy hallway. Age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls and overhead dust collected on a cobweb-covered chandelier shaped like a many-headed serpent.

The door at the end of the hall opened, and out scampered Ron's mother, Mrs Weasley. She was beaming in welcome, though, Harry did note that she was looking rather thinner and paler than the last time he had seen her.

"Oh, Harry," she said, pulling him into a rib-cracking hug. "Its good to see you again, love." She held him out at arms length and looked critically at him. "You're looking a bit peaky, you need feeding up. But you'll have to wait for dinner I'm afraid."

"Molly," said Moody gruffly, "I think we may have been followed."

Mrs Weasley frowned, "It will have to wait until after the meet, he's just arrived and the meeting is started."

There was a tumultuous murmur of anticipation and the wizards and witches began filing past Harry and into the door Mrs Weasley had just emerged from. Harry made to follow Lupin but Mrs Weasley restrained him.

"Sorry, Harry," she said. "But the meeting is members of the Order only. Ron and Hermione are waiting upstairs. You can wait with them until the meeting's over and then we'll have dinner. Oh, and be quiet in the hallway."

Harry glanced up the stairs and sighed. "I know, so I don't wake anything up."

"It's just up that way, second floor, first door on the right. Do you need me to show you the way, dear?" she asked hurriedly.

"I think I can manage, Mrs Weasley. Thank you," Harry said as politely as possible.

"I'll call when the meeting's over. Off with you now."

Harry heaved another great sigh, skirted an umbrella stand that looked like it had been fashioned from a severed trolls leg, and slowly mounted the stairs. The grim old place carried inside it the sombre, suppressed feel of a graveyard. All around were serpent motifs, and mounted on a wall aside the stairs was a series of little shrunken heads mounted on plaques. A closer inspection revealed them to be stuffed house-elf heads. With every step Harry's bewilderment grew, what were they doing in a place that looked as though it belonged to the Darkest of wizards?

When he reached the second landing, he crossed the dingy landing and turned a doorknob shaped like a serpent's head affixed to the right-most door. He caught a brief glimpse of a gloomy high-ceilinged twin-bedded room; then there was a loud twittering noise followed by an even louder shriek, and his vision was completely obscured by a large mass of overly bushy brown hair. Hermione had thrown herself on him in a hug that nearly knocked him flat, while Ron's tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, zoomed excitedly round and round their heads.

"HARRY! Ron, he's here! Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless – but we couldn't tell you anything. Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, but now that you're here, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us – the Dementors – and that boy – "

"Let him breathe, Hermione," said Ron closing the bedroom door behind Harry. He seemed to have grown several inches during their month apart, making him taller and more gangly looking than ever before – although the long nose, red hair and freckles were still the same.

Still beaming, Hermione released Harry. Hedwig swooped down off the top of the wardrobe and settled on Harry's shoulder.

"There you are," Harry said to her, "I've been worried about you."

"She's got a right nasty temper, that one," Ron said. "Nearly took my fingers off after we got your letters." He held up his much-bandaged fingers for emphasis. Harry almost felt guilty when he saw Hermione also had similar bandages on her hands, but he was more proud of Hedwig for obeying him than he was sorry that the owl had harassed his friends, in fact, he got a small sense of bitter satisfaction from it.

Harry transferred Hedwig onto a bedpost and slipped out of his cold jean jacket, rubbing his arms until the warmth returned. The silence was the most awkward he'd ever felt between himself and his two dear friends.

"So," he said conversationally, "Dumbledore made you swear not to tell me?"

"Oh, we wanted to Harry," Ron said quickly. "Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you'd do something stupid if left on your own with no news. But Dumbledore made us – "

"Swear not to tell me, I get it," Harry finished. "I get it. I understand. It's fine. Really."

The warm glow that had flared inside him at the sight of his two best friends was extinguished as something icy flooded the pit of his stomach. All of a sudden – after yearning to see them for a solid month – he felt he would rather Ron and Hermione left him alone. The person who he really wanted to see right now, was James.

"Hey, you're looking really good, Harry, you get new clothes?" Ron said, hopefully, trying to change the subject.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. James got them for me," said Harry, admiring the dragon and phoenix design on the front of his new favourite red t-shirt. "It was a birthday present."

"Oh!" squeaked Hermione, "is James the fellow we keep hearing about?"

"You've heard of him? I suppose, yes, they would have told you about that. My shadows?"

"We hear that you've been running off with him, nearly everyday, Harry, that's not safe, the people Dumbledore's got watching you can't follow, what if something bad happened?"

"Well, I suppose James would be able to handle it, he saved my life when the Dementor's showed up. Since then he's been by every day to see me. He's been a good friend. A real good friend."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "He was so angry," said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice. "Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift ended. He was scary. He's still kind of scary every time someone reports back that they keep loosing sight of you."

"Well, I'm glad Mundungus left," said Harry coldly. "If he hadn't, I wouldn't have met James…" Harry stopped dead, pointing an accusing finger at Hermione, "… that's what this is about isn't it? That's why Dumbledore finally had me pulled from Privet Drive! Its not about the Dementors at all!"

"What are you talking about, Harry?" said Ron, looking highly disconcerted.

"JAMES!" Harry bellowed. "I'm talking about James! I bet Dumbledore didn't like that one bit did he? Slipped out from under his thumb, didn't I?! I found a person who cared enough to talk to me, to come by everyday just to see how I was doing! IF HE THINKS THAT HE CAN JUST ORDER ME AROUND WITHOUT TELLING ME ANYTHING HE IS BLOODY WELL MISTAKEN! I CAN HANDLE MYSELF! I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT – " Harry's voice rose to volumes rivalling his Uncle Vernon. Hedwig bated and swooped up to the relative safety on top of the wardrobe. Harry felt every bitter and resentful thought build up inside him, wanting to be let out, he opened his mouth to let out another hurtful tirade, but he stopped, sighed, looking at the faces of his friends, Ron looked stunned, and Hermione looked like she was ready to burst into tears.

Harry balled up a fist and brought it down on the headboard. "Damn, I should have just left with him," he whispered.

"Pardon?" said Ron.

"It's nothing, just another missed opportunity." Harry flopped backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Hermione came and sat beside him, and Ron sat on the edge of the bed across from him. Both wore near identical expressions of worry.

"Harry, I'm sorry," said Hermione softly.

"Why? It's not your fault," Harry said quietly, even though the apology did make him feel a little better. "What is this place, anyway?" asked Harry, emerald eyes taking in the dark, dingy room.

"Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," said Ron at once.

"Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix is?"

"It's a secret society," said Hermione quickly, "Dumbledore's in charge, he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time."

"Who's in it?" said Harry, rising up onto one elbow.

"Quite a few people –"
"We've met about twenty of them," said Ron, "but we think there are more."

"Well?" Harry demanded, looking from one to the other.

"Er," said Ron. "Well what?"

"Voldemort!" snapped Harry harshly, and both Ron and Hermione winced. "What's happening? What's he up to? Where is he? What are we doing to stop him?"

"Mum won't let us in on the meetings, says we're too young – " Ron started to say

" – So we don't know the details," Hermione cut in, seeing the look on Harry's face. "But, we've got a general idea."

"Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see," said Ron. "They're really useful."

"Extendable -?"

"Ears, yeah. Only we've had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realised what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know –"

"Some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order – " said Hermione.

"And some of them are standing guard over something," said Ron. "They're always talking about guard duty."

"Couldn't have been me, could it?" said Harry sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah," said Ron with a look of dawning comprehension.

"Actually, Harry, I don't think they were talking about you. You see your shadows would always come back with reports of you going off with that boy – James. This other guard duty seems to be more of a – stationary job.

Harry snorted, "Well, its not much. But it's more information than I've had on Voldemort in a long time. So, what have you two been doing, if you're not allowed in the meetings?" he demanded. "You'd said you'd been busy."

"We have," said Hermione quickly. "We've been decontaminating this house, it's been empty for ages and stuff's been breeding here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms, and I think we're doing the drawing room tomo – AARGH!"

With two loud cracks, Fred and George, Ron's elder twin brothers, had materialised out of thin air in the middle of the room. Pigwidgeon twittered more wildly than ever and zoomed off to hide on top of the wardrobe.

"Stop doing that!" Hermione said weakly to the twins, who were as vividly red-haired as Ron, though stockier and slightly shorter.

"Hello, Harry," said George, beaming at him. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."

"You don't want to bottle your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," said Fred, also beaming. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you."

"You two passed your Appartation tests, then?" asked Harry grumpily.

"With distinction," said Fred, who was holding what looked like a piece of very long, flesh-coloured string.

"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," said Ron.

"Time is Galleons, little brother," said Fred. "Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception. Extendable Ears," he added in response to Harry's raised eyebrows, and held up the string which Harry now saw was trailing out on to the landing. "We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs."

"You want to be careful," said Ron, staring at the Ear, "if Mum sees one of them again…"

"It's worth the risk, that's a major meeting they're having," said Fred.

The door opened and a long mane of red hair appeared.

"Oh, hello, Harry!" said Ron's younger sister, Ginny, brightly. "I thought I heard your voice."

Turning to Fred and George, she said, "It's a no-go with the Extendable Ears, she's gone and put and Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door."

"How d'you know?" said George, looking crestfallen.

"Tonks told me how to find out," said Ginny. "You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap."

Fred heaved a deep sigh.

"Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to."

"Snape!" said Harry quickly. "Is he here?"

"Yeah," said George, carefully closing the door and sitting down on the bed opposite Harry; Fred and Ginny followed. "Giving a report. Top secret."

"Git," said Fred idly.

"He's on our side now," said Hermione reprovingly.

Ron snorted. "Doesn't stop him from being a git. They way he looks at us when he sees us."

"Does anyone know how to remove an Imperturbable Charm?" Harry asked.

Every one turned and looked at Hermione.

"Actually… I don't. But I can find out. I'll go get my books…" Hermione said and started for the door. Harry laughed and grabbed her by the arm.

"S'alright. Hermione, you don't have to go right now. But it is something to think about for later."

Hermione flushed.

"Alright, but I will figure out how to do it."

"Nobody doubts you will," Harry laughed, and all the others nodded or whopped in agreement.

"So, how's your family doing Ron?" Harry said, figuring the Weasley brood would be a rather neutral topic to while away the time until dinner. Fred and George normally had some pretty humorous tales to tell.

"Well, Bill's moved back to England, got a desk job at Gringott's so that he could work closer with the Order," Ron said, taking a seat on the other bed. "He says he misses the tombs, but there are compensations." Ron wiggled his brows suggestively.

"Oh?" Harry asked in amusement.

"You remember Fleur Delacour? Well, she got a job at Gringott's to eemprove 'er eenglesh."

"And Bill's been giving her lots of private lessons," added Fred.

"Charlie's still in Romainia, trying to make allies on his days off. Dumbledore says he wants as many foreign wizards in the Order as possible," said George.

"Couldn't Percy do that?" Harry asked. The last he had heard, the third Weasley brother was working in the Department of International Magical Co-operation at the Ministry of Magic.

At Harry's words, all the Weasleys and Hermione exchanged darkly significant looks.

"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad," Ron told Harry in a tense voice.

"Why not?"

"Because every time Percy's name is mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding, and Mum starts crying," Fred said.

"It's been awful," said Ginny sadly.

"I think we're well shot of him," said George, with an uncharacteristically ugly look on his face.

"What happened?" Harry said.

"Percy and Dad had a row," said Fred, "I've never seen Dad shout with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts."

"It was the first week after the term ended," said Ron. "We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted."

"You're kidding?" said Harry.

Though he knew Percy was highly ambitious, Harry's impression was that Percy had not made a great success of his first job at the Ministry of Magic. Percy had committed the fairly large oversight of failing to notice Lord Voldemort was controlling his boss (not that the Ministry had believed it – they thought Mr Crouch had gone mad).

"Yeah, we were all surprised," said George, "because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn't going to complain."

"So how come they promoted him?"

"That's exactly what we wondered," said Ron, who seemed very keen to keep a normal conversation going. "He came home really pleased with himself – even more pleased than usual, if you can imagine that – and told Dad he'd been offered a position in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts: Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed I think."

"Only Dad wasn't," said Fred grimly.

"Why not?" said Harry.

"Well, apparently Fudge has been storming around the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore," said George.

"Dumbledore's name is mud with the Ministry these days, see," said Fred. "They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back."

"Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks," said George.

"Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession," said Fred.

"But what's that got to do with Percy?" asked Harry, confused.

"I'm coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family – and Dumbledore."

Harry let out a low whistle.

"Bet Percy loved that."

Ron laughed in a hollow sort of way.

"He went completely berserk. He said – well, he said loads of terrible stuff. He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition and that's why we've always been – you know – not had a lot of money, I mean – "

Harry could only shake his head in disbelief.

Ginny made a noise like an angry cat.

"I know," said Ron in a low voice. "And it got worse. He said some nasty things about Dad, and Dumbledore, and that he – Percy – was going to show where his loyalty was, and that it was with the Ministry. He also said that if Mum and Dad were going to be traitors to the Ministry he'd show everyone that he had no part of us. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now."

Harry swore under his breath. He had always liked Percy least of Ron's brothers, but he had never imagined he would say such things to Mr Weasley.

"Mum's been in a right state," said Ron dully. "You know – crying and stuff. She came up to London to try and talk to Percy but he slammed the door in her face. I dunno what he does if he meets Dad at work – ignores him I s'pose."

"But Percy must know Voldemort's back," said Harry slowly. "He's not stupid, he must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof."

"Yeah, well, your name got dragged into the row," said Ron, shooting Harry a furtive look. "Percy said the only evidence was your word and … I dunno… he didn't think it was good enough."

"Percy takes the Daily Prophet seriously," said Hermione tartly, and the others nodded.

"I see. Say no more. I understand." Harry sighed heavily and flopped backward unto the bed again so he was staring up at the ceiling. "That's just perfect. Just bloody peachy." He sighed again.

"Y'know, you're taking this all a hell of a lot better than anyone thought you would, Harry," said George.

"Yeah, Mum thought you'd be fit to tie," continued Fred.

"I've already ranted about it. Didn't change anything. S'not much I can do," Harry remarked dully.

They were saved the necessity of finding another topic of conversation by a horrible, ear splitting, blood-curdling screech.

"Uh oh."

Fred gave the Extendable Ear a hearty tug; there was another loud crack and he and George vanished.

"What's that?" said Harry, bolting to the door and peering over the landing railing. Professor Snape was standing just inside the open front door, and Tonks was lying flat on the floor beside the umbrella stand. Mrs Weasley and Lupin were struggling with a set of curtains. The screeching voice of a woman echoed up the stairwell.

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, be gone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers-"

Gradually, other voices joined the shrieking as the other portraits awoke and began to yell.

In the confusion, Snape closed the door, and nicked up the stairs.

"Potter," said Snape, "There you are. Good."

"What do you want?" Harry snapped.

"I have something for you," Snape continued, ignoring Harry. He pulled a letter out of a fold in his robes and held it out to Harry.

"What is it?"

"A letter," Snape sneered. "I thought that should be obvious. Tell no one who gave it to you, and show it to no one until after you've read it."

Harry took the letter, "What's it say?"

"I don't know, I didn't read it," Snape said, then Disapparated.

Harry ran his thumb over the edge of the letter, grumbled something incomprehensible and stuffed the letter in his jeans pocket. Cautiously Harry descended the stairs. Mrs Weasley had abandoned the attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, Stunning all the other portraits with her wand. A man with long black hair came charging out of a door facing Harry.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roared, seizing the curtain Mrs Weasley had abandoned. Harry at first thought it was a window the curtains had hidden, a window behind which an incredibly old woman was being tortured. Then he realised it was a portrait, but the most hideous and life like portrait he had ever seen. The skin of the woman's face was sallow, and stretched taunt against her skull, her fierce grey eyes rolled as she shrieked and clawed at the air with her hands.

"Yooooou!" she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"

"I said – shut – UP!" roared the man, and with a stupendous effort he and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed again.

The old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell.

Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, Harry's godfather Sirius turned to face him.

"Hello, Harry," he said grimly, "I see you've met my mother."

"Your mother?"

"My dear old mum, yeah," said Sirius, "We've been trying to get her down for a month, but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's go downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."

"But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?" Harry asked bewildered, as they went through the door from the hall and led the way down a flight of narrow stone steps, the others just behind them.

"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house," said Sirius. "But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for Headquarters – about the only useful thing I've been able to do."

Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how bitter Sirius' voice sounded. He followed his godfather to the bottom of the steps and through a door leading to the basement kitchen.

It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above; a cavernous room with rough stonewalls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of them, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr Weasley and his eldest son Bill were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

Mrs Weasley cleared her throat. Her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired man who wore horn-rimmed glasses, look around and jumped to his feet.

"Harry!" Mr Weasley said, hurrying forward to greet him, and shaking his hand vigorously. "Good to see you!"

Over his shoulder Harry saw Bill, who still work his long hair in a ponytail, hastily rolling up the lengths of parchment left of the table.

"Journey all right, Harry?" Bill called, trying to gather up 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 toppling a candle over on to the last piece of parchment. "Oh no – sorry –"

"Here, dear," said Mrs Weasley, sounding exasperated, and she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand. In the flash of light caused by Mrs Weasley's charm Harry caught a glimpse of what looked like the plan of a building.

Mrs Weasley had seen him looking. She snatched the plan off the table and stuffed it into Bill's already over laden arms.

"This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings," she snapped, before sweeping of towards an ancient dresser from which she started unloading dinner plates.

Bill took out his wand, muttered 'Evenesco' and the scrolls vanished.

Up until the end of dinner, the evening went quietly; Harry got an apology from the pile of rags, which turned out to be Mundungus Fletcher, Tonks only broke a few dishes while trying to help, and Mrs Weasley only yelled at Fred and George once for attempting to do everything by magic. After talking with his godfather for a while, Harry truly came to understand that his summer had been grand, especially when compared to Sirius'. The Ministry of Magic was still after Sirius for escaping from Azkaban, and with Wormtail being in the present company of Lord Voldemort, and therefore knowing about Sirius' Animagus abilities, Dumbledore had shelved Sirius.

There was something in the slightly flattened tone of voice in which Sirius uttered Dumbledore's name that told Harry that Sirius, too, was not very happy with the Headmaster, and he felt a sudden upsurge of affection for his godfather. They shared the same troubles, at least somewhat. It was good not to be alone.

Over dinner, Mrs Weasley talked Boggarts and Doxys in the curtains, while Bill, Lupin and Mr Weasley discussed goblins, and Tonks re-arranged her face.

After dessert, Sirius started a row with Mrs Weasley when he invited Harry to start asking questions about Voldemort.

While Harry was happy to have his godfather defend his right to answers, and he was deeply touched when Mrs Weasley said he was as good as her son – but tonight, for some reason, the bickering and bitterness made him sick.

"WOULD YOU BOTH JUST CAN IT?" Harry bellowed.

Silence followed, Mrs Weasley and Sirius were struck dumb.

"You're not my parents!" Harry yelled. "I don't have any, and I don't need any! I can take care of myself! I've been doing it for years!" Harry stood, fists clenched at his sides. "I don't need you to 'protect' me. Because guess what? When something goes wrong, you're not going to be there." He pointed at Ron and Hermione; "I have more faith in them being able to help me than you two. So you'd better damn well tell me what's going on, because when it comes down to it, it's going to be my life on the line."

"Harry, that's unfair," said Sirius.

"Grow up, Sirus," Harry snarled, "life ain't fair. I learned that a long time ago."

Sirius glared.

"Now," said Harry, "I'm tired, and I'm mad. I suggest we all get some sleep and continue this discussion in the morning, perhaps cooler heads will prevail." Then he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen.

Up in the room Mrs Weasley had assigned him too, he lay down on his bed, and took out the letter Professor Snape had given him. It read, in feminine script:

My Dearest Harry,

You most likely will never have heard of me. My name is Lenore Potter-Varga, and I am the younger sister of your father, James Potter. Often I have wished to write to you, or even to visit you in your seclusion from our family, but it was not to be. I have been barred from all contact with you, my godson and dear nephew, when I should have been given charge to rear you, by the law of your government, lest there have been war between our nations. Apparently, my dear nephew, you are some sort of national treasure that must remain in England, and I, a member of Spain's Ruling Council, with no of age heir, was told in no uncertain terms that I could not abandon my Chair to be with you in England. Thus was the house of my father disgraced by having its heir raised as a foundling.

But I should not burden you with my grievances, for this was not the purpose of my writing to you in secret. It was my intention to reveal to you a secret I have kept a long time, even from my friend, Severus, who delivered this message to you. I would speak it clearly, but cannot be certain that this letter will not fall into unfriendly hands. So only this will I say: Prongs still stands. I can tell you no more in writing, but I assure you, that we will be seeing you soon. I will advise you against replying.

Until then,

Your Aunt,

Lenore

Harry read the letter through several times, then put his head down on his pillow, and wept.

Author's Notes:Lots going on in this chapter, harry arrives at the Order of the Pheonix and looses his temper... a lot. Poor kid's under a great deal of stress I should think. Anyway, this chapter ended up being both very similar and very different from the original. The greatest difference was the letter Harry recieved at the end.

I'm sorry this chapter was so late in coming, I had it finished weeks ago, and would have continued updating on Saturdays as was becoming my habit, but by computer cpntracted a nasty virus and I had to reformate my harddrive. Luckily for me, I managed to save my important files (including this fanfic) on an external harddrive before the meltdown. bad news is for the last three weeks I have been unable to write, so the next chapter isn't done yet. I will be posting it as soon as it is finished.