Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Order of Things

5

Eyes on the Ministry

Despite the proud smile on Dad's face, the tension in his shoulders was obvious. We could feel the stress hanging over all ministry employees' heads as they used the lifts and traveled through the atrium. So many were trying to get to and fro that the sounds of hundreds of shoes clacking against the polished dark wood floor echoed off the peacock-blue ceiling. It felt like being in a stadium before spectators found their seats.

"Where will you go first?" Dad asked as he saw us to the exit; walking around the golden Fountain of Magical Brethren. I found the sight of it just as insulting as the last time I saw it. Did the witch have to look up to the wizard? And then there were the depictions of the centaur, goblin, and house elf. Whomever the artist was, they must live a very pleasant life of delusion.

"Hogsmeade", Fred answered. "Never been there in the summer before. Thought it could be interesting to explore without other students crowding the place".

Witches and wizards scurried about their business in every direction. Some levitated large stacks of parchment or files behind them. Others rushed toward their destination as if hell hounds were nipping at their heels. All wore haggard expressions.

"Besides", George added; throwing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me out of the way of a wizard who couldn't see around the pile of smoking parcels he carried. "We haven't been to Hogsmeade since Jolly Holly got our permission revoked".

We passed a newsstand. Today's headline pulled at my attention. Potter Vs. The Department of Magical Games: The Trial Approaches. It was one reason for the pressure currently weighing down on Ministry employees. One Lord Flint had his hands all over. "You say that like it was my fault", I whined; forcing myself to be in the moment. It was something to be discussed in a UP meeting. Or around the dinner table. Not when celebrating a major milestone.

Fred and George snickered. That paired with George squeezing my shoulder let me know it was in good humor. Though the gentle look Dad spared me was soothing. "Sounds like a long-awaited visit". At the front desk, Fred, George, and I turned in our visitor badges to a very elderly-looking witch currently on duty. From there, Dad gave us the 'apparition talk'. "Remember; no sidelong apparition until you've been apparating for at least five months, do not apparate into muggle areas or areas you haven't visited before, just because you are of age does not mean you need to drink but if you do, don't apparate. And lastly, be home in time for dinner. Otherwise, Mum will worry".

Dad tried to be stern; using his eyes to press upon us the importance of his words. But they were old rules. Three siblings had been given these rules before us; meaning we've heard it before. With his parental duty done, the stern glaze in Dad's eyes was washed away by secondhand happiness. The kind only parents experience. "I have to get back to work. The audit of records the minister ordered doesn't allow much time for breaks. But have a butterbeer on me. Congrats on passing the apparition test". Dad dug in his robe pocket before handing me a handful of knuts and sickles.

"Thanks, Dad", I said; Fred and George echoing me.

The audit was Fudge's ploy to save face. He announced it to the Daily Prophet after Lord Flint did a press release about representing another client with grievances against the ministry. Black Vs. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was a hot topic at UP meetings prior to its announcement. It was filed purposely with a timeline in mind to follow Harry's case. This way there was hardly a pause as two cases called into question the integrity and credibility of the ministry. The audit, designed to prove all ministry official business was following regulations, was Fudge's way to defend himself. And if it uncovered mistakes or nefarious actions, heads would roll as Fudge benevolently cleaned up. Lord Flint had been ecstatic when he heard about the audit.

Waving goodbye to Dad, Fred led away to the apparition point visitors were allowed to use. "Hogsmeade station?" Fred asked. Waiting only long enough for George and I to confirm before spinning on his heels and vanishing in one loud crack.

"Holls?" George prompted as he pushed me forward to take the spot Fred just vacated. I complied but spared one last glance behind me. Back turned, Dad had already started for his office. His bald head allowed me to pick him out from the other ministry employees going about their day. Would Dad be alright?

Lord Flint said it was necessary to discredit the ministry and to gain footing with the people. When You-Know-Who made himself known, the United Party needed people to turn to us for a solution. Not the ministry which would downplay the dangers (And later succumb to them), nor to the Death Eaters who would rule by fear. But it was hard to see Dad so overworked. The United Party was fighting for a finite amount of power and Dad was just one more person caught in the crossfire.

Sighing, I turned to the task of apparating safely. If I splinched right after getting my apparition license, Fred and George would never let me hear the end of it. Spinning on my heels, I imagined Hogsmeade Station in my mind and intended to be there. My magic reacted with a jolt that unsettled my stomach, and suddenly I was somewhere else.

We hadn't been to Hogsmeade since our fourth year. Mum taking away her permission and the school sealing up the secret passageways assured that. In a way, walking through Hogsmeade with Fred and George at my sides kind of felt like taking back stolen time. Though Hogsmeade in the summer was different during the summer. The village was quiet with just the locals about. Honeydukes was empty. And Zonko's wasn't much better.

"Something to keep in mind", George decided as we browsed the shelves of gag jokes and belch bombs. "Not much foot traffic when school is on holiday. It would be better to set up shop elsewhere".

Fred piped up from the other side of the shelf that contained boxing telescopes and the like. "Somewhere with more people and less competition".

Picking up a Frog Spawn Soap, I half-heartedly read the label. "I keep telling you. Look for a space at Diagon Alley".

"Too expensive", Fred and George said together as they moved further down the row of shelves. In this order of things, Harry hadn't given his Triwizard winnings to them to finance their business. Harry couldn't give them anything. Because he hadn't won. No one did. Between Karkaroff's involvement, the trip to the graveyard, and three momentarily lost champions; who got the cup and the prize money was the furthest thing from anyone's minds.

George sighed. "I suppose it doesn't matter", he said; twirling the handle of a nose-biting teacup around his finger. "We can't rent a place until after Hogwarts".

"And we won't know our budget until then", Fred continued as he stopped in front of a display of joke sweets. "Depending on how the owl orders go this year".

We puttered about the shop for a while longer. The only thing we purchased was a new fanged frisbee to replace the one Filch confiscated from us last year. "Three Broomsticks", George suggested as we spilled out onto the street.

"Yeah", Fred agreed as he took the lead. Quiet as it was, our feet slapping against the cobble streets of Hogsmeade were louder than the birds chirping in a nearby tree. "I don't think we've ever visited the Three Broomsticks together".

As we walked, the only thing disturbing the peaceful image of Hogsmeade in the summer was the wanted posters plastered on walls every couple of feet. 'Have you seen this wizard?' was printed in bold on each. Under them was either a picture of Lockhart with his award-winning smile or Pettigrew with his twitching little nose. It was a sight we had grown desensitized to a while back. The hunt for Pettigrew and Lockhart had been going on since our fifth year. But the posters inquiring about Quirrell had been taken down.

"That's because Jolly Holly chose Adrian over us", George teased as we reached the pub. Holding open the door, he grinned at me as Fred and I entered first.

Lighting thumping a fist against his arm as I passed, I said, "You two will always be my first choice. But one can't snog their brothers so sacrifices had to be made".

Fred and George snorted as the door closed behind us. The empty and slow theme continued at the inn and pub as it had with the rest of Hogsmeade. Though there were a few more customers here than at Honeydukes or Zonko's. A family with a young child occupied a table by the window as they ate lunch. There was a pair of boisterous wizards having a good laugh as they sat at the bar.

It wasn't at all what we were used to. During Hogsmeade weekends at school, students had to shove and elbow each other to find seats or order drinks. "Welcome", Madam Rosmerta smiled as she looked up from a pint she was polishing. "What can I do you for?"

"Three butterbeers please", I ordered as we approached the bar top; already digging out the money Dad had given us. The coins clinked in my hand as we waited for our order. Once we had three cold and frothy pints in our hands, George claimed a table in a back corner.

Sitting by himself on one side of the table, George raised his pint. "To freedom, travel, and no more trace",

On the opposite side, Fred and I copied. "Cheers!" We said in sync as our pints clang together. Of course, it wasn't a completely accurate toast. Fred, George, and I were of age by the time school was done for the year. Upon returning to the Burrow, we were already trace free and had celebrated our seventeenth birthday months ago. But that didn't stop Dad from breaking out a bottle of brandy he bought for the occasion of the night of our homecoming; wanting to share our first drink with us. Naturally, that was the perfect segway for Mum to go into the dos and don'ts of drinking.

And we've been using magic right and left since going home… Well, Fred and George always used magic during the summer. But now we were openly casting spells and that felt nice. Passing the apparition test was the last bit needed to becoming full-fledged witch and wizards.

Fred had a froth mustache when he lowered his butterbeer away from his mouth. "Want to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow?"

"Yeah", George agreed as he wiped his upper lip. "We need more ingredients if we want to make enough skiving snack boxes to sell at the start of term".

I shook my head. "Sorry. Flitwick has me running errands tomorrow".

My charms master hadn't been kidding when he said I would be working hard this summer. Once the term ended, I was allowed the weekend to relax. But that first Monday had me spending the day in Flitwick's summer cottage. He took great advantage of my freedom to use magic and had me nonverbally running through my charms repertoire. Something about gauging the extent of my core. And when I wasn't doing that, Flitwick task me with hunting down citations for a paper he was working on.

Fred sighed. But it was fake sounding so I wasn't bothered about disappointing him. "Can you believe it, George? Our own triplet has abandoned us to be an overachiever like the rest of our brothers… well, except Ron".

Scoffing, I took a big swig of butterbeer. Overachiever, as if. Flitwick just demanded a lot and I didn't want to make him regret taking me on as an apprentice. Especially when I told Mum what I would be doing this summer. She had been thrilled. "A charms mastery, my daughter", she kept saying; changing her dinner plans from lemon chicken to rosemary chicken so I could have my favorite meal.

"Makes us look bad, doesn't it?" George said; giving me a long look. Though the spark of jest in his eyes gave him away. Wonderful acting skills as always. Glad to see some things don't change. "Not even out of school yet, and Holly got herself a job. But alas, we'll just have to resign ourselves to the fate of less impressive and obviously dim-witted triplets".

"Obviously dim-witted". I parroted in disagreement. "You and Fred have been inventing your own joke product line since you were twelve. The fishing pole you invented last was the only reason Adrian made it through the second task. Wizard Weasley Wheezes will be a household name once you're up and running".

Fred swiped a finger under his left eye to catch an imaginary tear. "Jolly Holly believes in us, George. Isn't that nice?"

George nodded in agreement. "Maybe she'll remember us lowly shopkeepers when she's teaching charms to a bunch of snot-nosed first years".

Picking up my pint, I tried to hide the color in my cheeks. No matter how often it happened, it felt nice to hear the people around me validate my goals for the future. "The same first years who will make my life hell by using your products in my class", I muttered into my butterbeer. Fred and George grinned as I imagined a future sales campaign: Buy one, get one free if you promise to prank Professor Weasley.

Ron and Ginny were not having a very good summer. With Lord Flint letting everyone in the inner circle know You-Know-Who had returned, Mum's house arrest rule hadn't lifted. "It's not fair", Ginny complained as she followed Mum around the kitchen. "Percy and Bill leave for work every morning. Holly visits Professor Flitwick. And Fred and George get to come and go as they please".

Mum had listened to so many similar complaints that she was unbothered as she checked the temperature of the oven and made sure the washing had started in the kitchen sink. "Your siblings are fully grown. They can disparate if there is trouble and they have their wands". The part Mum didn't add was that she legally couldn't stop her adult children from leaving the house. Probably because she didn't like that fact.

Groaning, Ginny stamped her foot like the disgruntled fourteen-year-old she is. "At least let me go to Hestia's and Flora's house. I'll go mad if I'm stuck here until September".

Waving her wand to make the boiled potatoes mash themselves, Mum sent Ginny a withering look. Adolescent tempers were tolerated, but unsightly displays were less so. "Your friends may visit the Burrow. But unless your father or I am with you, you will not be leaving this house, young lady".

Her complexion matching her hair, Ginny threw her hands into the air and stormed out of the kitchen. Mum tsked and shook her head as she watched her youngest go. "Holly, clear the table". She ordered as Ginny disappeared up the stairs.

Closing the book Flitwick lent me, A History of Charms in the Americas by Josue Moreno, I pulled out my wand and sent the clutter that had accumulated since lunch flying back to their assigned spots. Mum's knitting returned to the sitting room. Ron's summer cloak hung itself on the rack by the door. And the morning edition of the Daily Prophet flung itself into the fire.

"Will Percy be home in time for dinner?" I asked; moving over to the hutch that stored our dishes.

"I don't think so", Mum said; humming as she checked on the peas steaming on the stove. "Marius keeps him so busy".

With two landmark cases coming up, Percy often missed meals with the family as he stayed late at the firm (or so he claimed). And they were landmark cases, as Percy kept telling us. If the one against the Department of Magical Games and Sports ended in Harry's favor, the ministry would be forced to recognize the lingering presence of You-Know-Who. Otherwise known as Karakaroff putting Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire and tampering with the Triwizard Cup. Sirius' case, regarding his imprisonment and lack of trial, would further communicate to the public how disregarding standards and regulations was damaging to all. Or so Lord Flint claimed.

Another flick of my wand and plates and cutlery for eight flew from the hutch to set the table. Percy may not make it home in time, but Bill would. As a member of UP's inner circle, Bill and Charlie both were aware of things heating up at home. They made it a point to travel back to the Burrow at the start of summer to attend the UP meeting that followed You-Know-Who's return. From that meeting, Charlie was asked to return to Romania as a point of contact. While Bill applied for a desk job in Gringotts' locations closer to home.

Mum liked having Bill back in his old room. Even if he was only here to eat and sleep. Though she would have preferred if Charlie was sleeping in his bed too. Preparing for war tended to make people cleave tight to their families.

Serving dishes containing the peas and mashed potatoes levitated their way to the table as Mum poked her head over the threshold of the stairs. "Dinner!" She called; oven mitts on her hands as she held tonight's pork loin.

Placing my book on the counter to be retrieved later, I took my usual chair as the sounds of feet traveled downstairs. Mum put the pork loin at the center of the table as Fred and George appeared first. "Smells good, Mum" Fred complimented.

"We better start now", George added; reaching for the ladle in the mashed potatoes. "Otherwise, Ron will eat everything before we can fill our plates".

His hand is slapped away by Mum. "You'll wait until everyone is seated".

In the fireplace, the flames grew and turned green as Bill stepped through. "Just in time", he observed; placing his work things by the door.

"Bill", Mum frowned as she took her place at one end of the table. "Please tell me you didn't wear your hair down like that. What does your boss think?"

Bill winked at us triplets as Ron stumbled down the stairs; his red hair disheveled as if just waking up from a nap. "My boss is a goblin, Mum. He doesn't care what my hair looks like".

"A better question is what Miss Delacour thinks of it", Fred teased as Ron fell into the chair next to him. Even when sitting, the height difference between Ron and my fellow triplets was noticeable. Ron had shot up some time without us noticing and he now stood taller than Fred and George.

Dad walked through the kitchen door a minute later. With Mr. Pucey's security work in place, he couldn't apparate directly onto our land. Meaning a lovely evening walk through the garden was required when Dad returned home from work. "Evening, Weasleys", Dad greeted.

"Hi, Dad", we chorused in some variation. Except for Ron, that is. He just yawned.

Ginny was the last to reach the table. As she squeezed into the chair between me and Bill, we started passing around the food; ignoring her glowering, pouting face.