Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The Order of Things
4
Summer Days
It was a beautiful day despite the occasion. The sky was free of clouds. There was a pleasant breeze in the air. And the grass in the garden was lush and thick under our shoes. All of us had gathered. Including Bill and Charlie. Truthfully, they hadn't traveled home from their respective countries just for today's event. But, for this moment, I was choosing to pretend they had.
Fred, George, and I decided the respectful thing to do was to dress in all black. They dug out the dress robes they wore at the Pucey's party all those months ago. While I found an old dress I thought would be nice. Percy had to be convinced to change the color from purple to black. But he agreed as soon as I promised to leave him alone afterward.
Not that Percy was fooling anyone. Even though he told everyone at the breakfast table that he thought this was an inappropriate use of time, Percy was standing solemnly next to Fred, wearing a set of his new work robes. Black ones.
Humoring us, as they were known to do, Bill and Charlie were also in black; having charmed their clothes to fit the dress code since they hadn't packed anything suitable. With six of their children taking things this far, Mum and Dad participated as well. Going as far as fishing from the attic the funeral clothes they wore to Great Aunt Muriel's husband's wake many many years ago. Mum and Dad may smell like moth balls but at least they looked the part.
The same could not be said about Ron and Ginny. Ginny, who thought his whole affair to be silly, stood next to Mum wearing her everyday clothes as she waited for us to get on with it. While Ron was still in his pajamas; making a complete fashion statement by leaving his hair uncombed. At least he'd put a shirt on, but that was as far as he was willing to go. When I'd prodded my dear little brother to show more reverence for the dearly departed, Ron responded by grumbling, "It's only a bloody owl".
"Dearly behooted. We're gathered here today to honor and celebrate the life of a truly wonderful friend-" George started as we stood around a shallow grave Bill had magically excavated for us; heads bowed.
Well, except for Ron. "Bloody hell", he complained. Leading me to jab his side with my elbow. From the shoulders of their owners, Pigwidgeon and Hermes let out disgruntled hoots. Probably because it was daylight and we had disturbed their slumber for this, but I'm going to pretend they were hooting out of respect for their fallen elder.
George kept going as if there had been no interruption. "Let us remember owl the good we saw in Erroll and owl the love we felt for his feathered little self. Let us recall owl our fond memories as we lay Erroll to roost for eternity".
"That was lovely, George", Mum commented. Unlike Dad, her eyes were dry. Not even a little misty. The way she delivered her praise reminded me of when us triplets had been five. Whenever we'd give her a drawing we'd made, or proudly show her our paste and macaroni creations, she used a very similar tone to the one she's using now as she told us how talented we were at art.
If George noticed the same thing I did, he didn't let on. Instead, George nodded solemnly; his hands folded in front of him. "Thank you", he said as Fred stepped forward.
In Fred's hands was a hat box we'd stolen from Mum and Dad's room, decorated with a black ribbon tied in a neat bow. Squatting next to the grave, Fred placed the box inside with the utmost care. "We hope you'll be happy here, Erroll", Fred said; gesturing to the big old oak tree we were all standing under. "We made sure to find the best spot. We didn't want you to be hooting up the wrong tree". The tree Fred was referring to was Erroll's favorite. We used to call it his hunting tree. When not in the house, he'd roost in its branches or sit impossibly still as he waited for prey to swoop down upon. "You were a very talented owl", Fred continued. "A jack of owl trades, if you will". Ron groaned and Ginny bit her lip; being more amused than he was. "But owls well that ends well". Fred stood up and fell back to stand shoulder to shoulder with us again.
"Would anyone like to share some memories of Erroll, I asked", looking around expectantly at everyone; determined to drag this out as long as possible.
"I'll go", Bill said, drawing our attention. "I had a lot of firsts with Erroll. During my first year of school, he delivered the first letter I ever got from Mum. Because of Erroll, I was able to send my first love letter to a girl I liked. As well as my first break-up letter. I'll never for-"
"You broke up with a girl through owl mail?" Ginny interrupted as she eyed our eldest brother like she was seeing him for the first time.
"It was a different time back then, Gin", Bill insisted as he coughed a little. Though, I found myself not believing his words. No matter your generation, breaking up with someone without a face-to-face conversation was bad form. "I've since learned better".
"Erroll got along well with Hermes", Percy said; breaking in before we could go too much on a tangent regarding Bill's love life. He wasn't looking at the hat box in the ground, but at Hermes as he talked; stroking the bird's head with one of his fingers. "A few times, I went into my room and saw them sharing a perch and grooming each other's feathers. Hermes will miss Erroll".
Dad cleared his throat, asking for the floor. We had no problem giving it to him. "Your mum and I bought Erroll before any of you were born. He was one of the first things we bought as a married couple. In a way, you might say that Erroll was like our first child".
"Sorry, Bill", Charlie muttered. "Sounds like you've been replaced".
Mum shot Charlie a hard look as Dad continued. "I remember when Erroll's eyesight started to fail. The first time he returned from a delivery and flew straight into the window pane, we were all home; eating lunch. Every one of us shot out of our chairs, ran into the garden, and fussed over the silly old thing. I doubt any family has loved an owl more than we loved our Erroll". A slow murmur of agreement went through all of us. Even Ron. Dad redirected his eyes; focusing directly on us triplets. "It just goes to show that in this life… owl you need is love".
A resounding groan escaped from our siblings as Mum shook her head in reluctant humor while Fred, George, and I applauded. As long as we weren't traumatizing someone, we could always count on Dad.
Since starting school, this was my first summer without any homework to complete. Considering how we couldn't sign up for any classes until we knew our OWL results, the teachers couldn't assign homework when they didn't know who would be in their classes. It was a fact our whole year celebrated all the way home on the train. But as the summer progressed, I quickly started wishing there was an essay I needed to write or books I needed to read. This desire formed from the sole reason of Mum placing any Weasley under the age of seventeen under house arrest.
The Lockhart sighting back in February hadn't been a one-off thing. With no discernable pattern, there were quite a few mornings where we'd wake up to see another sighting reported in the Daily Prophet. Sometimes Quirrell or Pettigrew was mentioned as being seen too. It was hard to determine what was true and what was false.
The wards and safety measures Adrian's dad built into our house and property helped. But Mum wasn't comfortable letting us go farther than the garden. Ottery St. Catchpole was off limits. We made every argument we could come up with; it was a muggle town, we'd use the buddy system, and none of the sightings had happened in Devon. But Mum could not be swayed. Even our make-shift quidditch pitch was off limits unless Dad, Bill, or Charlie were willing to go with us.
Dad got to go to work. Percy left most mornings for his internship. Bill and Charlie would leave to meet up with old friends from school. While we were stuck at the burrow. Only a few exceptions were made. Such as the upcoming garden party Neville's grandmother was throwing for YUP, a few UP gatherings, and the Quidditch World Cup. That last one was only on the list because Dad insisted it would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; promising it would be perfectly safe based on how many people would be there. And the boys and Ginny would have a hard time forgiving Mum if she said we couldn't go.
…It also helped that neither Mum nor Dad knew what would happen after the match was over. Or would potentially happen. It was hard to know if we'd done anything to make big events like that change. But I digress.
With the lot of us home; bored and stepping on each other's toes, Mum was one gray hair away from going batty. To make things worse, the burrow became the hang-out spot for many YUP members. Since we couldn't go to them, our friends were coming to us. Harry was here most days. So was Luna once she and Ginny learned that she lived close by. Hestia and Flora made some appearances too. On those days, Ginny and her friends would lock themselves in our shared room. Which was mildly annoying since it meant I couldn't use my desk.
Lee came to visit with Fred and George. Where they too would also lock themselves in their room. Except when you walked past their closed door, you didn't hear whispered conversations of gossip and giggling. Instead, you heard explosions and smelled off-putting scents. If Mum wasn't aware how dangerous a bored Fred and George were, she would have probably refused Lee entry a long time ago.
I had my own visitor too. While not as frequent as Luna or Harry, Adrian spent more time at the burrow than he had in previous years. Although, we didn't get to lock ourselves in a bedroom. Mum was insistent we stayed in the kitchen, sitting room, or the garden; making it a bit difficult to have the conversation we wanted.
"Say it again", Adrian requested as he sat on the couch with an open journal and a quill in his hands, and an inkwell sitting on the corner table.
I was laying on the floor, lightly thumping the back of my head on the rug as we tried to think ahead. A quick glance into the kitchen confirmed Mum was still tending to the chickens. Only then did I feel okay with reciting, "Bone of the father, unknowingly given. Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken".
Adrian tapped the tip of his quill on a page in his journal, having already written it down. Something I was against, by the way. Writing down future events before they happened was asking for trouble if you ask me. But Adrian assured me he had it charmed in a fashion similar to the marauder's map. If anyone other than him tried to read it all they would see was blurbs of a school boy's day-to-day life. "There's nothing we can do about the flesh of the servant", Adrian deducted. "Assuming Pettigrew has already been in contact".
"And don't forget Quirrell", I added. "If he's still living inside of Quirrell, that's a built-in servant right there".
"His father's remains, that's something we might be able to sabotage". Adrian continued; wearing his best-thinking face.
Slowly I lifted my head and shoulders from the floor. "You want to go grave robbing?" I asked; frowning. I mean, it wouldn't be like we were digging up the dead out of greed. Our cause was to prevent the resurrection of evil incarnate. Surely, any crimes committed could be overlooked… if we were successful.
"You said the graveyard is in little Hangleton?" Adrian asked while offering no answer.
Lying flat again, I checked the kitchen. Mum still hadn't come inside. "Yeah. If I'm remembering the name correctly". After the events from the third book, things started to get hazy. Something I contributed to how much more detail was added. The third book introduced Hogsmeade. But the fourth book introduced the international wizarding world. Recalling from memory of what happened where, who did what, who knows about it, who dies, and for what purpose was becoming increasingly difficult. It was a problem that would only progress. Especially when we got to the point of trying to work out who had who's wand in three or four years from now. Add in all our deviations, and it becomes nearly impossible. "But going there could be dangerous. We don't know if You-Know-Who is back in the UK yet or when he'll start squatting in the old Riddle house. If You-Know-Who is there and he finds us digging up his father…" I purposely trailed off; letting Adrian fill in the blanks himself.
After spending a few seconds pondering, Adrian winced and I knew he'd reached similar conclusions. Thanks to that detention we spent in the forbidden forest, You-Know-Who knew who Adrian used to be. He knew Regulus had stolen the locket. While below Harry and Dumbledore, Adrian was probably on You-Know-Who's kill list.
"The easier option", Adrian moved on. "Is to protect Potter".
I nodded in agreement. Right, the blood of the enemy. The task in itself was simply stated, but actually doing it felt daunting. As a direct consequence of Sirius becoming a part of Harry's life earlier than in the books, Harry had avoided a lot of trouble these last three years. He didn't murder Quirrell in self-defense. He wasn't exposed as a parseltongue to the whole school. Nor did he slay a basilisk. And he has not crossed paths with dementors or used a time turner. This year would hopefully be similar….
"Are you certain Potter's blood is the only one that the dark lord can use?" Adrian asked; interrupting my thoughts.
"Yes", I answered; blinking a few times to refocus. "It's always Harry. You-Know-Who will want it to be Harry's blood that returns him to full-body. I just…I'm struggling to remember. There was another reason".
Adrian frowned down at the pages of his journal. Watching him was like waiting for a smart shopper to make their final decision. "The blood of the enemy", Adrian repeated to himself. "If we can keep Potter and his blood away from the Dark Lord, then we won't return to his full power".
"Then we might be able to avoid a war", I continued.
"All that would be required to defeat him once and for all would be to destroy the remaining Horcruxes and their maker", Adrian summarized. Although, he left out the part where we didn't know where the other Horcruxes were.
The ring was lost and I didn't know any facts about where it had been before Dumbledore picked it up. Hufflepuff's cup was a mystery too. Although a smaller one. It might be in the Lestrange's Gringotts vault. But I couldn't remember when it was placed there. Had that happened after You-Know-Who returned to power for the cup's safety? Or had it been there since before the end of the last war? Either way, checking meant breaking into Gringotts; something that wouldn't be wise to do. Especially if we were wrong and the cup was nowhere to be found.
Then there was Nagini; a Horcrux that either didn't exist yet or had just been made. But the snake remained at You-Know-Who's side most of the time. We wouldn't be able to get to her without going near his holy evilness. So, the snake would have to be last… Or second to last. Harry was an issue. If You-Know-Who doesn't do it himself, how do we destroy a Horcrux without killing its host?
As we traversed through our own thoughts, for a while the only sounds to be heard were the sound of bird song, the ticking of Mum's family tracking clock, and muffled footsteps coming from the floors above. If one ignored all the plotting we were doing, the background noise described a lazy afternoon at the Burrow perfectly. Though my appreciation of the ambiance was ruined by Adrian announcing, "I'm going to put my name in the goblet of fire".
"What?" I asked; not believing my ears as I pushed myself into a sitting position. "No", was the next thing to come out of my mouth as I stared at Adrian.
Adrian remained unflinching on the couch, his face stone as he stared back at me. "What happens this year will determine the years to come. Potter needs to be protected".
"We don't know if Harry will have to participate", I argued. There were no new teacher positions this year. Meaning it would be difficult for anyone to impersonate a teacher no one knew personally.
"And if his name is slipped into the goblet of fire, it'll be better to be prepared", Adrian countered; sounding like a bloody boy scout. Not that Adrian knew what a boy scout was.
"Adrian, the second task involves the great lake". The blank expression Adrian gave me did nothing to tell me he was following what I was saying. Despite the fact that we've gone over the three tri-wizard challenges in the past. "Meaning you'd have to dive to the bottom of the lake that's deep enough for merpeople to live". Still, my words evoked no response. Or at least not a visible one. "You can't even manage a bathtub. How will you handle being underwater for as long as an hour?"
Adrian's face became slightly pinched, however; he maintained the majority of his composure. Something that frustrated me to no end. "I will find a solution", he calmly stated.
Letting out a huff of hot air, I pushed some hair out of my face. "We can't even assure you'll be the Hogwarts champion", I pointed out; trying to find all the faults in his plan. "It could still be Cedric". Oh, Merlin! Cedric.
"Then you're worrying for no reason", Adrian told me as he stared at me expectantly; waiting to refute my next point. Almost as if he had rehearsed this.
Except my mind took an unexpectant turn and I found myself worrying for an entirely different reason. What were we going to do about Cedric? This wasn't a new question. I had asked myself this a lot before I had even told Fred and George about Jessie's knowledge. Was I guilty if I knowingly let someone die?
Of course, that question, or rather the weight of it, was different now. The Diggory's were members of UP. Cedric was YUP's treasurer. Through officer meetings and YUP events, I'd gotten to know Cedric better. He was no longer just a boy I shared a few classes with. We were at a point where I felt comfortable calling him a friend. Was I guilty if I knowingly let a friend die? Any answer other than yes didn't feel right. "We'll have to tell Cedric. If he is selected", I decided.
The space between Adrian's eyebrows wrinkled. "Tell Diggory what?" He asked. But one pointed look from me was the only answer he needed. Rolling his eyes, Adrian let out a sigh. "Telling people your secrets shouldn't be your default move when you don't find a solution to your problems".
"Why not?" I asked with derision; eyes narrowing. "It's worked so far". We wouldn't be sitting here, having this conversation if it hadn't.
Adrian closed his journal with a resounding thump. It was a non-verbal promise that he had a lot of things he could say to answer my question.
Unfortunately… or maybe luckily, we were interrupted. "What's worked so far?" A voice asked from behind me.
Twisting my spine around, I was greeted with the sight of Mum standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the sitting room. Her face was flushed from being outside in the summer sun, and her hair was a bit frazzled from working with keeping the coop orderly. "My stunning personality", I answered quickly and without much thought. "I was telling Adrian about how it gets me out of trouble. But he disagrees".
Mum's face was unimpressed as she offered Adrian a commiserating look over my head. "And Adrian would be right", She told me. "I have a whole bundle of correspondence from your teachers that proves otherwise".
Adrian scoffed as I tilted my head to the side and stared at my mum with an inquisitive expression. "Why would you keep those?"
"Adrian", Mum moved on; ignoring me. "I'm making a roast chicken for dinner. Would you like to stay for dinner?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley", Adrian said; his tone was completely different when talking to my mum. He was nicer… more polite. Git.
Satisfied, Mum nodded once before returning to her kitchen. A few seconds later the sounds of pots and pans being set to work covered up the sounds of the grandfather clock. With Mum now one room over, any talk of the Goblet of Fire and manipulating future events were paused. So, when I turned back to Adrian, the only thing I could think to say was, "Why would she keep them?"