Author's Note: Hello, dear readers. It's been two weeks since my last update, and I apologize for the long wait. I was buried under a mountain of homework and orchestra rehearsals and therefore unable to get a sufficient amount of sleep (let alone write). Calculus beat me to a raw pulp. In other news, Catch has amassed over 200 visitors! A special thanks to all who favorited, alerted, and reviewed the story. Thanks again for your patience, everybody. And now, for the chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter Five: Arrival at Grimmauld Place
After a few agonizing moments of darkness and suffocating pressure, we emerged into a new and unfamiliar scene. Gasping for breath, I released Mundungus' arm, and my knees buckled beneath me, evidently in protest to the Apparation. I cursed quietly under my breath and decided I much preferred the good, ol' subway as my means of transportation.
Mundungus tugged me up by the arm and, with a small gesture that indicated I should stay put, began to move toward the row of shabby, grubby houses that lay in front of us across the road. I bit my lip, anxious and wondering what awaited me with this "Order" that Mrs. Figg had mentioned. There was no way of turning back now. I fidgeted uneasily and then turned, shifting my gaze to survey my new surroundings.
I was standing upon a patch of long, unkempt grass, which contained quite its share of old cigarette butts and empty water bottles. Silent and empty in the balmy evening, the neighborhood square bordered a series of dark, dilapidated houses, dull and adorned with broken glass windows. The streetlights sputtered feebly, their glow fizzling in and out, casting the street periodically into total darkness.
I became aware that Mundungus was talking and turned back around to see two men listening to him intently as he spoke in a low, urgent tone. One man, tall and thin, stood silently and absorbed everything Mundungus said with a nod. He threw me a quick glance, and then, adjusting his glasses and running his fingers nervously through his bright red hair, looked at the other stranger, a scarred, older man with a wooden leg. This man scowled and growled for a short while, but finally nodded. Mundungus motioned for me to come forward and, with a crack like a whip, vanished.
I walked across the road to meet the two, almost tripping as I stepped up onto the pavement. The older man observed me suspiciously with one of his mismatched eyes. His other eye, unnerving and electric blue, swiveled around as he introduced himself as Alastor Moody and the other man as Arthur Weasley.
After a few moments, Mr. Weasley nudged Moody softly with his elbow.
"Give her the note," he whispered.
Moody dug into one of his pockets and extracted a piece of paper. By the flickering light of the lampposts, I quickly read the message: "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."
I looked up at the houses in front of us. We were standing between numbers eleven and thirteen.
Where was number twelve, Grimmauld Place?
The thought had no sooner passed through my mind than a door appeared. Pushing aside houses numbers one and twelve, filthy walls and windows emerged, and an entire house materialized out of nowhere. My mouth fell ajar.
"In we go," Mr. Weasley said cheerily, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Hadn't anybody in the houses felt that?, I wondered.
The street remained silent and nobody came out. Evidently no one inside had noticed.
"Move. Quickly," Moody growled at me. "You never know whose eyes are watching you out here in the open."
I walked up the stone steps, and Mr. Weasley tapped the freshly-materialized door with his wand. The lock clicked, and the door slowly swung open. Moody ushered me forward, and I stepped over the threshold and into the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.
Halfway down a dark and gloomy hallway, a short, plump woman with flaming red hair popped her head out from a doorway.
"Arthur, dear, who is that?" she said.
Walking down the hallway to us, she greeted me with a warm, kind expression.
"Well, a new face! Haven't seen one of those in a while. My name's Molly. Molly Weasley. And you are?"
"Olivia Thompson." I tried to say my name with a little liveliness, but it came out instead as a mechanical response.
The smile on her face faltered, and she turned to Mr. Weasley.
"My goodness, the girl looks dead on her feet!" she exclaimed. I grimaced.
Mr. Weasley gave her a brief explanation of what had happened, a summary of what Mundungus had told him. I chipped in now and then to add details and assure her of Harry's safety (which she seemed highly concerned about). Moody, who now seemed less suspicious of me than before, asked Mrs. Weasley to take me upstairs to bed and then gather the other Order members for an emergency meeting.
She nodded and guided me through the dark, gloomy atmosphere. We walked by cobwebby furniture and rusted candelabras and snuck softly past a moth-eaten pair of curtains. I gawked at a collection of odd mounted heads on the wall, but Mrs. Weasley prodded me forward and led me up a staircase.
Finally, turning a snake-shaped doorknob, we came to a bedroom. It was a dank and tiny room that contained only a bed and a dusty wardrobe, but I felt relieved at the sight of an opportunity to relax.
"It's not much," Mrs. Weasley told me, sighing heavily. "But it's the only thing we have to offer."
I shook my head and gave her a feeble attempt at a smile. "It's great. Thank you."
"Goodnight, dear. Sleep well."
She turned to go, but then stopped short of the doorway.
"Oh," she said, smacking her forehead lightly. "Almost forgot to tell you. Bolt the door when I leave. Otherwise, Kreacher will come in in the middle of the night and scare you half to death."
I had no idea who or what this "Kreacher" was, but, at that point, it was the least of my worries. I nodded wearily, and Mrs. Weasley left the room, closing the door gently behind her. I bolted the door as she instructed and, tossing my backpack to the side into a corner of the room, threw myself onto the bed. A long day's worth of fatigue hit me in one powerful swoop, and sleep overwhelmed me.
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