Chapter Three

The Order of the Phoenix

After excusing himself from the dinner table, Harry trudged up to Ron's room and collapsed on the spare bed. He was still stunned at his own decision, but was sure that it was what he wanted to do.

The reason he hadn't seriously considered it previously was that he felt that as a member of the Order, he would have no freedom, being required to do what they wanted of him and not what he thought was best. But somehow he was sure now that the others realized that Harry knew more than anyone about Dumbledore's doings before his death. They knew that Dumbledore had confided in him, and all summer he had been receiving letters from various Order members trying to leech the secret out of him. But he had held firm, and he was sure that only he, Ron, and Hermione knew of the existence of the Horcruxes. They would aid him however they could and try not to hinder him with jobs someone else could do.

Harry lay there until the room was dark, but he didn't bother to get up and light a lamp. He was thinking about the things he would need to complete the task he had given himself.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, by Ron and Hermione, who knocked softly on the door before entering. He sat up and smiled wanly at them.

"Harry," Hermione began, perching edgily on the bed next to him, "we want to talk to you."

"About what?" he asked, though he thought he had a pretty good idea.

Ron answered his question, his eyes filled with that bright, determined look again. "We want you to know that… that we'll follow you anywhere. We're going to join the Order, too."

Harry had known that they were going to say this. He also knew it would be pointless to try and persuade them otherwise.

"Harry," said Hermione. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy. She had been crying. "We want to help you, and I think we can, but you have to let us. I know you don't want us to, I know you don't want us to get involved in anything that could hurt us, but what kind of friends would we be if we just stood here and watched while you went and risked your neck to save the world? You can't stop us, Harry. You know that."

"I know," he said softly. "Thank you. You can't know how much that means."

At these words, she burst into tears and turned to Harry to cry into his shoulder. Ron looked rather disgruntled.

"We're going to the Ministry with you tomorrow," he told Harry. "We told dad. He didn't like it, but he said it was our choice. I still have to tell Mum, though. She's already hysterical about you joining; I hate to see what she'll be like when I tell her we are, too."

Harry didn't want to see her either. That would make a total of seven of the family in the Order, including Fred and George, who worked for the Order when they could find time away from their business, and Mrs. Weasley was sure not to like it.

Hermione's sobs slowly receded into sniffles, Harry patting her on the back and Ron looking jealously on. When she had ceased crying, Harry stood and crossed to where his trunk, owl cage, and broom had been deposited by Tonks' transportation spell. Hedwig was gazing at him with large, amber eyes. He opened the cage and carried her to the window, where she took off and glided into the night.

Feeling a sudden movement in the lower regions of his body, he announced, "I've got to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Ron nodded and Hermione sniffled. Harry shut the door behind him and walked down the hallway.

After he had relieved his bladder, he crossed back to Ron's room, but stopped outside the door, listening silently to the conversation inside.

"I don't know what to do, Ron," Hermione's voice sobbed. "I want to join the Order, but how can I leave school? I need a decent education to get a job in this world, but if the Order of the Phoenix doesn't win, there won't be much of a world to get a job in."

"I know," said Ron, in the tenderest voice Harry had ever heard him use. "I'm scared, too."

"And Harry… Harry didn't even have to think twice. He knows where his loyalties lie, and he didn't even consider changing them when the opportunity came. I can't be like that, Ron, I just can't. I can't."

"Harry admires you, too," Ron told her. "You're one of his two best friends, and for a reason. And you got sorted into Gryffindor, didn't you?"

"I'm not sure I should have," she whimpered, barely audible to Harry, standing out in the dark hallway. "Ravenclaw would have b-been better for me. I've never done anything noteworthy."

"Yes you have," Ron said forcefully. "We never even would have got past our first year if you didn't figure out what potion to use. And it was your research that tipped us off about the basilisk. And without the Timeturner and your fast thinking, I don't know where we'd be."

"It was Dumbledore's thinking," she told him. "He's the one who came up with the idea."

"But you were brave enough to carry it out. Hermione, bravery isn't always what you think it is. Sometimes it's just having the courage to forge on through life, against all the trials you have. And you've never quit."

She was silent for a moment, and the she said quietly, "Thanks, Ron."

Harry thought that this would be a good time to interrupt their conversation. As he found out a split second later, however, he was horribly wrong.

The two of them were sitting on the bed, kissing each other. They broke off when the door opened and glanced up. Ron turned bright red and buried his head in his hands, but Hermione glared at him with a fierce defiance, as though she thought he would hate them for it.

"It's okay," he said, shrugging. "Go ahead."

He walked out again and shut the door behind him. Trying to keep from grinning, he descended a floor to Ginny's room.

He knocked softly. Her voice told him to come in.

She looked up, surprised. She was curled on her bed, reading a book. "Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Upstairs," he told her, entering and shutting the door. "I thought they might need some privacy."

Ginny grinned wickedly. "They've been wanting it more and more lately."

He sat down on the edge of her bed. "What are you reading?" he asked.

She showed him the cover. "Quidditch Through the Ages."

"Oh." There was a moment of silence.

Ginny cleared her throat, but hesitated, as though trying to find the right words. "Harry," her voice was rather strained, as though she were on the verge of tears. "I still don't understand why… why we can't be together."

Harry's smile slipped sideways off his face. "It's for some stupid, noble reason," he told her.

She laughed bitterly (his stomach did a flip). "I think it's a very stupid reason."

And with that, she sat up and kissed him.

His mind told him that he should resist, but his body wouldn't obey. He knew that every second they spent locked in each other's embrace was another second for Voldemort to find his biggest weakness and exploit it, but he couldn't pull away. He kissed her back.

When they finally broke apart, she was glaring at him fiercely. "I love you, Harry Potter, and don't you forget it." She sounded almost exactly like her mother.

"I won't, Ginny," he promised. "I won't."

Mr. Weasley shook him and Ron awake before the sun had risen. Harry sat up groggily and pushed his glasses onto his nose. Ron rolled over and groaned, said something about blue cabbages and the giant squid, and resumed snoring. Harry grinned and threw his pillow at him. "Good morning, sunshine."

Ron sat up blearily and threw the pillow back, missing his target by about five feet. "I'm up," he said, nearly falling out of bed in his attempt to stand up.

Ten minutes later, the two of them entered the kitchen, still blinking sleep out of their eyes. Hermione was already there, with her hair combed and everything. She smiled. "Good morning, sleepyheads. Have some breakfast."

Harry helped himself to a stack of toast and marmalade and sat between Mr. Weasley and Hermione. Ron occupied the chair on her other side.

Between bites, Mr. Weasley explained that they'd be using Floo Powder to get to number twelve, Grimauld Place, from where he would Apparate to the Ministry of Magic. They were to find Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin, or Mad-Eye Moody and speak to them privately.

Mrs. Weasley came into the kitchen just as they were finishing up. She looked as though she had been crying. Ron had gone to her the previous night to break the news to her, and from his report, she had expected it but hadn't taken it too well. She hugged them all fiercely, rumpled Harry's hair, and attempted to rub a spot of dirt off of Ron's nose. "Mum," he grumbled, "it's okay. We'll be back tonight, I promise."

They were almost ready to go when Harry remembered something he had forgotten to do. Claiming he had left his wand upstairs, he ran up to Ginny's room. She was still sleeping. In her hand he placed a chocolate frog card, one with a picture of Elizabeth Trolovski, the witch responsible for inventing the love potion. Kissing her on the cheek, he went back downstairs.

Everyone was standing by the fireplace, waiting for him. "Alright then, here we go," said Mr. Weasley, taking a pinch of Floo powder from a flowerpot and throwing it into the flames. They turned emerald green, and he stepped inside. "Number twelve, Grimauld Place!" he shouted, and then he was gone in a rush of warm air.

Ron went next, followed by Hermione, then Harry. Harry remembered to tuck his elbows in as he felt the familiar whirling sensation and watched hundreds of fireplaces flash by.

He tumbled out of the kitchen fireplace and landed on his side, at the feet of Ron, Hermione, and Mr. Weasley. The latter offered him a hand, which he accepted, and pulled him to his feet.

Brushing himself off, he looked up to see a bemused Remus Lupin, sitting at the table and pouring over a stack of papers. As Harry stood up, he seemed to come to his senses; he waved his wand and the papers vanished. He stood as well, crossing to shake Mr. Weasley's hand, but looking with an odd expression at Harry. As soon as he had relinquished his grip, he turned to look at three friends. "Well, Arthur, I assume you have to get to work, but do you want to tell me what you lot are doing here?"

"I've got to run, Remus. I'll let them tell you. Goodbye, Ron, Hermione, Harry. Take care." With a loud crack, Mr. Weasley Disapparated.

Lupin still had an odd expression on his face. Harry thought that he had a pretty good idea of why they had come.

"I think I know why you're here," he said slowly, as if to confirm Harry's suspicions. "Come with me."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron followed him (on tiptoe) through the hall and up the stairs to the drawing room. Harry recoiled from the memories that sprang up every time they rounded a corner; Sirius, closing the curtains over his mother's portrait, Sirius tapping his hand with his wand after being infected by Wartcap powder, Sirius throwing Kreacher- horrible, filthy, traitorous Kreacher- out of the drawing room. He hated this place, hated it with all his heart, and yet he still wanted to join the organization that had its headquarters here. He thought that maybe the Killing Curse that had failed to kill him had at least addled his brain.

Lupin tapped lightly on the drawing room door, and a rough voice growled, "Come in, Remus. And bring Granger, Weasley, and Potter with you."

Lupin opened the door and beckoned the three of them inside. Mad-Eye Moody sat at the desk, writing on a piece of parchment. As they entered, his magical eye whirled around to look at them.

"So you want to join the Order, do you?"