I had finals and my grandma was over for the holidays and Blaise was being uncooperative, so this took longer than it should have. Still, here it is, please enjoy and let me know what you think!
Harry didn't like to think of himself as an impatient person, but apparently he was. Or maybe it was just the circumstances surrounding him that were causing him to lash out. Whatever the case, having Dumbledore dismiss his questions about Lestrange and instead show him how Voldemort was born grated on his nerves more than he thought was reasonable. If he was being honest, which he wasn't at the moment.
Sure, he felt for Merope Gaunt, even though what she ended up doing to Thomas Riddle senior was actually rape. And sure, he understood that certain things -like one's father (understandably) abandoning one's mother- might jade one's outlook on the world. But it all provided no reasonable explanation; all of that was not a valid reason for Tom to be what he was, but at least he knew Tom. He knew what he wanted and he understood and saw what the man was up to, had understood it for a while if he thought about it.
Lestrange, on the other hand, was a danger that Harry didn't know anything about. If Dumbledore was preparing him to fight the good fight, as it were, wouldn't it be a good idea to also teach him about one of the man's most dangerous followers? He knew that the professor knew more about the girl than he let on, Sirius had hinted at him being somehow involved with Annabelle in the past and Harry wasn't stupid enough to think that the old professor was not watching her closely.
That was another question of his. Had Dumbledore been surprised by what happened? Had he expected it? Why hadn't he acted? What was he doing now to work against her? He couldn't just let things unfold because that would mean that she would get her way, as she had before. He had to be planning something. Harry needed him to be planning something -or at least tell him why he wasn't- and he needed it now.
Everything had been too quiet this last week. The Slytherins had watched everyone and not acted out a single time. Lestrange herself had attended every class -which was strange, she'd always taken advantage of her illness from the first few years to skip out- and after curfew she had remained inside the Slytherin common room. Or, at least, Harry hadn't seen her wondering about. The only ones he'd seen out of bed out of hours had been Malfoy and Parkinson, but they were Prefects and had a good reason to cross paths with the other Prefects. Zabini and Greengrass weren't always together, he'd seen them around the castle separately a few times… but always in inconspicuous places. In the study halls and the library. He'd personally not laid eyes on them meeting anyone suspicious.
The peacefulness of it wore on Harry's nerves. She had to be planning something, she was always planning something.
"Sir?" Harry spoke, turning around from where he'd been about to exit the man's office.
"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, smiling at him from his desk.
"About Lestrange-"
"There is nothing to worry about, dear boy, nothing at all." His question was interrupted. "I understand your concern but truly, now that the surprise is over with there is not much damage a sixteen year-old girl can do anymore."
He didn't know why, but the casualness of the comment didn't do anything to ease up the ball of anxiety that had lodged itself in Harry's stomach. If Dumbledore said that something was handled, then it was and he should be at peace with that, but he wasn't.
"Harry, Harry, I can see you're not convinced." The old professor offered him a benign smile. "But I assure you that no matter how dangerous she might seem, miss Lestrange is not completely out of control. She is driven by very specific purposes, once we discover those then all her actions will become predictable."
"So you don't know? You don't know what drives her?" Harry frowned. "You think something beyond Voldemort motivates her actions?"
"I have a few theories." Dumbledore admitted. "I am working on confirming them, but I am usually correct in these matters. All I will tell you is that most Death Eaters were raised in that environment. Miss Lestrange, as you know, wasn't."
"But-"
"It's late, Harry. That is all I will say on the matter." A hand waved him away. "Off to bed, now."
George hadn't really considered the dangers their actions brought with them until a loud banging sounded against the closed door of their shop. Well, it wasn't as if they weren't aware of the fact that they were running a great risk, or the fact that they would most definitely be killed if any Death Eater found out what they were doing, but they hadn't really been confronted with that reality just yet. It was a whole different thing, theoretically knowing that you could die and actually freezing on the spot at the loud sounds coming from the entrance to their shop. After closing hours. Close to midnight.
His eyes shot first to Fred who, like him, had reacted by immediately drawing his wand, and then to Lee, who had been marking the changes in inventory and now sat frozen by one of their desks. Not for the first time, George regretted the decision of pulling their best friend into this mess. It wasn't that he didn't trust Pansy or Anna to keep them as safe as possible, it was the fact that 'as safe as possible' was still pretty damned dangerous. He didn't want anything to happen to Lee, least of all on their account, but he knew that trying to keep him away would've been a fruitless endeavour. He'd known Lee Jordan far too long to believe that the other boy could ever possibly stand by during this war.
Fred got up from his seat, steps silent as he crept closer to the open door. The only light on in the entire shop was the one in the study and there were no windows there; outside in the hall and down in the showroom everything was dark. It made the rattling sounds even more ominous. There hadn't been an explosion, the door hadn't been blasted off its hinges, but someone was hammering on it. Not knocking, just slamming their hand on the glass harshly enough that it would've shattered if it weren't for the protection charms.
"Cover me." Fred whispered and George nodded, waving a hand to Lee and then to a cabinet to motion that he should guard it.
That was where they kept the records of who passed through here, they had no doubt that Flint would be meticulous in his record keeping, but if he was caught it was good to have back up. Who would go looking for registers of muggleborn refugees amongst mountains of accounting records? Still, best not leave that up to chance.
Silently, the twins descended the many slender staircases, the demanding noise deafening them to other sounds. If they hadn't known the layout of their shop so well, the blinding darkness would've left them stumbling around or falling over banisters. But eventually they made it down, safe and sound and unnoticed.
Fred leaned against the wall on one side of the door and George did the same on the other side. He couldn't see his brother's face through the darkness, but there was no doubt in his mind that their expressions were identical. Fear, of course, but also something akin to expectation. In a way something like this made everything seem more real, even more than the grateful expressions on the faces of the muggleborns they received every other day.
George was taking a deep breath, trying to scrounge up some measure of courage, when the slamming stopped.
"Fred! George! If you're there, it's Tonks!" A familiar voice sounded. "Open up!"
He didn't need to see his brother frantically shaking his head to know that letting his guard down was a bad idea. It could be an impersonator or, if it was really her, she could be under someone's control. There was really no reason for her to be here, Ted was already gone and any objections she might have had were long overdue.
Looking at each other, the twins had one of their long silent discussions. Or rather, they shared a non-verbal brainstorm session. After all, if it was Tonks, then something could be very wrong. What could possibly have happened to have her come all the way here?
"Oh, come on! I'm in no state to apparate away." 'Tonks' said. "You wanna have my possible splinching on your conscience?"
George frowned to himself. Was she drunk? She didn't sound it, but then again 'no state to apparate' could also point to slightly buzzed. No slurring necessary for that.
"What is it?" George called out, ignoring the abortive movements Fred was throwing his way.
"I wanna know where you sent my pops to." Tonks answered.
"No can do, sweetheart." Fred told her before George could answer. "Safety issues and such."
"Come on! I wanna-" There was one more slam against the door. "There's gotta be something I can do. I just- sending him off like that… it made me feel useless."
George turned to his brother who was already shaking his head. It was not a good idea, to be completely honest. Getting Tonks involved was not a call they were allowed to make, it should go to Pansy, who would most definitely adamantly refuse. Tonks ran enough of a risk in the Order, as an auror, and as Andromeda's daughter; letting her take part in hiding muggleborns was dangerous. Not just for her, either, since she was such a large target that her getting killed or captured was a very real possibility. It would put everything at risk… and yet…
"We'll think about it." George told her, once more ignoring the way Fred mimed slamming his own head against the wall. "It's not our decision to make. Go home, Tonks, floo from the Leakey Cauldron."
There was silence for a few seconds before footsteps were heard, departing. George didn't need to look at his brother to know that there was an exasperated glare being sent his way. They could both understand what she was feeling, though letting that sympathy cloud his judgment was not something Fred would do. While the fact that it was a bad idea also gnawed on him, George wouldn't allow himself to back down from helping a friend just because it was strategically unwise. There was always at least something they could do.
Anna knew when she was outnumbered, and she knew when she was being unreasonable. Usually. Thus, she knew that no matter what she said about the issue, her friends would not change their mind about having Neville replace the twins. Eventually, she would have to talk to him, convince him of what she was trying to do and that the best course of action for him was to work for her. Loyally and without reservations, like all the others who worked for her. Particularly now that everything was in motion, an unpredicted move from Harry could cause severe damage and Anna's head was far from the only one in the smasher.
Only, she didn't want Neville. Her family had ruined his life more than enough and she didn't want to be responsible for putting him even more at risk than he already was. Maybe that was an unreasonable stance since the boy was already in a lot of danger, due to his friendship with Harry and overall identity, but there was still a deep unwillingness in her stomach.
All she needed to do was talk to him, really. She was good at talking, she was good at winding words and making the truth seem better than it was, making herself seem far stronger and more confident than she was. Those conversations weren't sincere, though. Leading people was not about sincerity, in her opinion, because as soon as a single crack shone through one's convictions and confidence… then people started having doubts and she couldn't afford anyone being hesitant about their jobs. With Neville-
At the end of the day, in her mind, when one died those around them didn't remember their deeds or their words. Sure, those were what they would historically be remembered for, but most of all, those who knew the deceased remembered how they were made to feel. That was the only reason she was there now, looking for the boy. Even if, for her own conscience's sakes, she was planning on being more honest that usual, this was something that she had to do. Not to fill the hole in Harry's circle, not to gain another loyal spy, but to ease what Neville felt when he looked at her. It was selfish, of course, but she had never claimed that she wasn't.
She could see his face when she entered each of the classrooms they shared classes in. He would go pale and look away, fidgeting and not capable of keeping his gaze fixed anywhere in particular. Distracted, unnerved, and the few times she's met his eyes she'd seen he was also afraid. He hadn't confronted her, he didn't seem like the type for confrontation, but she knew that her resemblance to her mother was eating at him. She didn't want him to feel afraid or uncomfortable around her; she didn't want anyone to feel like that with her, but least of all him. It might have been true that children do not bear the sins of their fathers but every time she looked at him she did feel that weight. On her shoulders, on her chest, on her soul; the knowledge of what his family had suffered because of hers was something she'd never been able to swallow.
Nothing could make up for that, she knew, but that didn't mean that she had to stand by and scare him out of his wits every time he saw her.
Finding him was easy, she knew for a fact that Professor Sprout let him go into the greenhouses in his spare time and it was only a matter of finding the only one that was unlocked. Neville, when she finally laid eyes on him, was crouching over a large flower pot, elbow deep in humid earth and fertiliser. There was a tiny frown on his forehead and his lips were pursed in concentration as he moved his arms through the dirt. It was a good improvement, she thought, from the mellow boy she'd become acquainted with in second year.
"Neville? Got a minute?" She called out, hanging back a bit.
Said boy's back stiffened and he turned only a tiny bit. It was obvious why. Even if no one else saw it, he had more reason than anyone to catch the slightest resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange. One doesn't just forget a the face of someone like her mother and the resemblance between them was more than slight. He would have caught it immediately and his response had clearly been to stay out of her away. Not that she could blame him, of course, she would probably have done the same had she been in his place.
"A-actually I'm rather busy at the moment. Later perhaps?" Neville answered her.
Anna frowned. "I was only being polite, Neville. We need to talk."
"Talk? Is that what you call it?"
"Call what?" She could perfectly well imagine the scenarios that coursed through his imagination. Once one met her mother nothing seemed to be too exaggerated.
Neville only shook his head, not looking at her even now.
"I know why you're being like this. I don't blame you for it." Anna tried, taking a few steps forward though still keeping a few work benches between them. "She's my mother, you know. I'm perfectly aware of what she's done."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Neville's voice seemed strangled and his back had tensed even more. He wasn't working on the soil anymore, only leaning over the pot and clutching it so hard it seemed he might topple over if he let go.
"Yes, you do. You know perfectly well who and what I'm referring to." Anna sighed, trying to keep her tone patient. She hated it when people beat around the bush when it was absolutely clear that there was no purpose to it. Sure, she did it also and it might be a bit hypocritical of her to be so annoyed, but it definitely was not helping her conduce a productive conversation. "Bellatrix Lestrange. I know you see her face in mine. This is why."
It was silent for a little while as he visibly tried to calm himself. His body was trembling, she could see the tension in his shoulders. Maybe he would snap, maybe not. In a way, she would rather she did. She was better at dealing with people flinging hexes at her than at talking about past traumas and her mother.
"And you- you expect me to believe you?" He asked her in what was probably the closest she'd seen him come to a sneer. "That you're-"
"Annabelle Cassiopeia Lestrange, daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange and goddaughter of Tom Riddle… also known as Lord Voldemort." Anna deadpanned. Unapologetic truth was probably the best course of action, right? Even if it wasn't, Anna couldn't be anything but completely honest when it came to him. Even white lies seemed like the worst of crimes, after everything he'd been through. "I can show you my dark mark if you're not convinced."
That had him whirling around pretty quickly, eyes wide and jaw slack in a mixture of horror, disbelief, and fear. Maybe the unapologetic truth had not been the right course of action, it lacked tact. Tact was necessary when trying to avoid someone freaking out on them. She would have thought of that, of course, as she had various times before, had she not been talking about her parents and admitting her involvement with the Dark Lord to Neville Longbottom, of all people. More than slightly unnerving, it was, and definitely not how she'd been wanting to spend her Saturday morning.
"I don't want to hurt you. I don't like hurting people." She winced at his incredulous expression. "Which, yes, sounds like an even bigger lie but- I just- I saw how you were looking at me and I know why and I just wanted you to know that you're not crazy. You're not making things up, I really do look like her and for a good reason."
He seemed to work through the information, swallowing harshly and looking away from her. His hands had let go of the flower pot, only to fall to his knees in tight fists. When he finally looked back at her it was with more anger than fear. She wouldn't have expected anything less.
"Say I believe you… You- you thought it would be a good idea to- to come here and tell me all this?" He struggled to his feet and even through the distance between them she could tell he'd grown taller than her.
"Of course not." She scoffed, looking away and folding her arms. "It's a terrible idea, isn't it? Confronting you about this. There's all sorts of people that you could tell about our little conversation and it wouldn't work out well for me at all."
"So why? A Death Eater, a marked one with the connections you claim to have- and you say you don't want to hurt me? That you don't like hurting people?" He took a step back, throwing his arms up in his temper. "You expect me to believe that?"
"The- the truth is even more complicated than that." She admitted, still looking down at the ground. "Strains credulity even further, I'm afraid."
"Oh, yeah? How?" Neville hadn't walked away, which was a good sign, but he looked to be physically restraining himself from attacking her. That could be taken either way. He had taken various more steps away from her, leaning against a work table and boring into her with his eyes. She could feel the heat of his anger from where she was standing but she didn't blame him for it. He had every right to express his anger and she was the closest he could get to one who truly deserved it. She was sick of dealing with things that were her parents' fault, it seemed like it was the only thing she ever did.
"How does… marked Death Eater, goddaughter of the Dark Lord, daughter of two of his most deadly followers, and orchestrator of a coup against said lord sound?" She asked, still looking away from him.
"It sounds like a lie." His voice was drenched in scorn but she only looked even further down. "Of all the things you could say- I don't believe you. You- everything you're saying, none of it could possibly make any sense! And you- you knew about me all this time and you could have said something- I know you knew. You stopped Malfoy last year, Merlin, you even made him stop bothering me in second year! I thought- I thought you were just a good person but-"
"I am a good person!" She countered though she could feel the lie burn her tongue. "I try to be- I-"
"How can you be, with that thing on your arm? With your parents!" Neville yelled. "Just stop lying! You've known all this time and said nothing, your parents were out of Azkaban and probably living with the Malfoys -who you also live with- and you have your- your godfather's mark on your arm! How could you possibly be a good person? Merlin, how can you claim to be- to be anything but what they are?"
"It's true though!" Anna swallowed, looking up at him. Her hands were shaking, clenched against her thighs, and she could feel the pain blossoming in her chest. She needed him to believe her. Neville, of all people, needed to believe her. If he could just- just accept that she wasn't like them, that she was trying to be good. He, who had lost so much because of her parents, who she didn't blame at all for taking it out on her, then maybe she would get a little reassurance. Reassurance that she was not what they wanted her to be, what everyone had tried so hard to make her become. Only Neville could do that, but he was doing the opposite. He was breaking everything she'd been trying to believe about herself.
"I'm not like them! I'd rather die than be like them!" She insisted, desperately looking into his furious eyes. "I'm trying to bring him down! I'm trying to keep people safe! Please, Neville, you have to believe me!"
There was a harsh sound, between a laugh and a snarl, and he stepped forward. It looked like he was struggling to keep still as he got a closer look at her. "I don't. I don't believe you. What she did, what your father did, what every one of them did, it's unforgivable. And that mark, it makes you one of them. And these- these lies about trying to bring him down, keeping people safe, I don't believe them. Why would you do that? You won't lose anything if they win, what possible reason could you have-"
"I'm not like them. I don't want to be like them, I don't want to hurt people, I don't want to be what they want me to be." Anna tried, taking a step forward.
Neville backed away again, shaking his head. "No, you know what? I'm done here- I- I can't be here." He waved her away and started shoving things forcefully into a messenger bag. "I can't listen to this, it's all- it's too much. Don't follow me."
She swallowed, gripping her skirt as she tried to find something to say that might persuade him. Something, anything, but her mind drew up blank. She couldn't think clearly around him, not logically and shrewdly as she would with anyone else… except maybe Harry. But now, with everything he'd said, with tears threatening to spill and nausea churning in her stomach, she couldn't think at all.
As she watched him straighten up, glare at her once more, and walk around her, all she could do was look at him. Plain shirt, plain trousers, scuffed shoes, blonde hair and full lips. Angry eyes and dirty hands. A red tie peeking out of his bag.
A red tie-
"You can ask the twins." She called over her shoulder, not looking back but hearing the steady steps still. "Fred and George. They'll tell you the truth. They'll explain it better than I can."
It was a cheap, cowardly way out. Leaning on the twins even more than she already was left a foul taste on her tongue, but it was the only thing she could come up with. If it gave him even the smallest grain of doubt about his take on her then… then it would stop him from blabbing his mouth to Harry and Dumbledore. Maybe even, if she dared to hope, which she didn't, they might change his mind completely. Or at least persuade him to talk to her.
There was no response from Neville and soon enough he kept walking. It seemed like an eternity until she heard a door open and slam shut. The air wasn't cleared, however, it was still bitter and tense and it was hard to breathe in. She gulped in some air, feeling a familiar stinging behind her eyes. Finally, however, she could let her knees give in and she sat down on the ground, struggling to catch her breath.
She wasn't like her mother, she wasn't like her father. Right? She couldn't be, she'd tried very hard not to be. She couldn't be, mother wouldn't be sitting on the floor with an anxiety attack because she was yelled at by a boy. Annabelle was not Bellatrix, even if they looked alike. She couldn't be, she didn't want to be. She wouldn't be, not ever.
There was a ringing sound in her room, echoing off the walls and off her head. Now that she thought about it, maybe that extra glass of liquor hadn't been a good idea. The first had calmed her down before bed, the second -as Draco would put it- was unnecessary. The one after that had been a bad idea. Lately she'd been finding it hard to sleep… when she even tried to.
Horcruxes were not easy things to do research about, no matter how many books on dark magic one smuggled into the school. It was even harder when one's survival depended on it, well, hers and Harry's. Then there was all the other planning and the Dumbledore problem and the fact that everyone always seemed to need one last word of confirmation. Marcus, Adrian, Draco, Pansy, Blaise. On the Death Eaters, the muggleborns, the hiding, Tonks and Andromeda, the spies, the protection. And all the school work, to keep up appearances. It was too much. She could keep it together when in public, she could grit her teeth and get things done, but at night she needed something to take the edge off. Theo wasn't always there and she couldn't be dragging him away from his responsibilities, though she knew he would toss them aside if she so much as hinted at needing help. She'd started drinking with Barty in fourth year, after all, and through fifth she'd only drunk on special occasions… but now she found it to be a bit more useful… most of the time.
It took a few second for her sluggish mind to realise that the ringing was not originated by a hangover. Sure, her head felt heavier than it should and her mouth was dry and her stomach was uncomfortably empty, but that all could not cause auditory hallucinations. The ringing was coming from somewhere.
With a sigh, she realised it was probably one of the various two way mirrors she had stuffed into her luggage. One for Narcissa, one for Marcus, one for Amelia, one for her mother, and various unused pairs, just in case.
She raised her wand, giving out a tiny bit of light so she could stumble her way to her trunk without breaking anything. From between the layers of folded clothing she pulled out a small wooden box from which the sound was coming. Inside were various mirrors, small enough to fit the palm of her hand and wrapped in soft velvet for their own protection. One was glowing slightly. Marcus'.
Anna groaned as she laid down her wand, the light dying out immediately, and started to unwrap the little trinket. What could he possibly have to say, so late at night? Or early in the morning, whichever.
"What?" She snapped, eyes fixating on the little familiar face.
"Sorry to bother you, I suppose, but we've got a situation." Marcus greeted her with raised eyebrows.
"There's always a situation. What is it this time, then?" To be perfectly honest, maybe it was not a good idea to ask her for a solution to anything right now. She could still taste the fire whiskey on her tongue. However, she couldn't afford to let him know that, and she was still in charge. Maybe a glass less next time.
"Adrian was spotted by aurors. Meeting up with Death Eaters."
"What?" Anna gritted her teeth. Only the stupidest, most incompetent imbecile could-
"It's not as bad as it sounds! The Death Eaters were masked and they were ours and the aurors didn't catch Adrian or see his face. They just spotted someone meeting up with Death Eaters and tried to follow him." Marcus rubbed a hand over his face. "The fool didn't want to risk leading them to the Pucey estate so he came here, to me. He's fine, of course, and they didn't follow him here either."
"So, in order to not risk himself being caught… he risked you being caught? You, with all the responsibilities you have and how much we need you?" Anna seethed.
"It's fine, he panicked but nothing happened. He knows not to do it again, I talked to him." Marcus held up a hand to placate her. "He just felt safe here."
Anna had neither the time nor patience to figure out why exactly Adrian automatically went to Marcus, though in the back of her mind she knew there was a simple explanation. One that she would be able to find, should she care to. Which she didn't because there were more important things to worry about at the moment.
"So? What d'you wake me up for, if it all ended up in nothing?" She demanded.
"I think they're going to keep looking for Adrian. An unmasked person meeting with Death Eaters is no laughing matter. They might think he's being recruited or that he's a spy or something like that. Those people are valuable, so it would make sense for them to keep looking for him." Marcus insisted. "And I have a solution but- well, I figured I would need your permission."
Anna almost groaned. "Let's hear it, then. What is it?"
"A scapegoat." Marcus stated. "We find someone stupid enough to fool into meeting with a Death Eater and have him go somewhere where they'll speak about it. Scrimgeour has the auror department in such a frenzy that they won't ask questions. We protect A- an important member and we get rid of a Death Eater that would probably cause damage."
"But- hold on a second." Anna held up a hand to stop him, trying to let all the information permeate her still sluggish brain. "You're talking about framing an innocent person? Just because Adrian couldn't do his job properly?"
"Adrian is under a lot of pressure right now but he's doing a terrific job." Marcus countered, affronted. "And no, we would do this for any one of our people. Wouldn't we?"
Anna grit her teeth again. No, no they wouldn't. Someone that was innocent shouldn't bear the punishment for something that had nothing to do with them. It was what happened to Sirius and she felt sick for considering it. Then again, letting Adrian get caught was less than ideal, if anyone was even after him, that was. Adrian wasn't just important to their cause, he was also Anna's friend… and clearly important to Marcus because he would have known her objections against this measure and he'd proposed it anyway.
"Can't we frame a Death Eater we don't have?"
"Most Death Eaters are either family members or young recruits we're working on or they're people we've planted, anyone that's truly against us will be difficult to frame. It would take much longer and they would probably be fanatical enough that their framing would be noticed." He insisted. "Just- just let me pick someone useless and dumb enough to fall for it and give him to them in Adrian's stead."
She sighed and rubbed her free hand over her face. This was not something she wanted to deal with, right now. "Who did you have in mind?"
"Stan Shunpike."
A groan sounded through her bedroom, loud and clear this time. "And, prey tell, your choice would have nothing to do with the animosity between you two when you were at school, right?"
"He's an arse with too many opinions on other people's relationships, but my personal feelings have nothing to do with this." Marcus snapped.
She could tell it was a lie, but she wasn't going to point it out. "Is Adrian with you now?"
"He's asleep."
Behind her friend she could see the panelling on the wall, which recognised as belonging to his study. There were few reasons for Marcus to not be in his bedroom at this time of night and she could tell that he was nervous about her saying something about it. She wasn't though, she couldn't care less.
"Fine, do it, but-" She levelled him with a stern look. "Do it yourself. You and Adrian both have masks, you two won't involve anyone else in this. Nobody finds out about this, ever, absolutely no one. This secret goes with you to your graves, is that understood?"
"Yes, Anna. Completely." Marcus nodded.
"Good, and don't think I would do this for just anybody. This is for Adrian and for you."
"Also…" Marcus winced. "Blaise should tell Hannah Abbott that we're getting her mother out tomorrow but formal authorities will think that she's dead. We'll send proof of her being alive this week, she shouldn't believe what they tell her. Figured it'd be quicker to tell you now."
"I'll let him know." She answered, hastily writing down the information so she wouldn't forget. Merlin knew how she would be feeling in the morning.
Hermione watched with pursed lips as the quidditch pitch got more and more crowded. The keepers hadn't been selected yet and it seemed that Ron was becoming green around the gills as he watched all the people streaming in. She understood what Harry had attempted but he'd clearly underestimated his new popularity. Thankfully, there were various contestants for the position and Ron would have a little more time to calm himself down.
Now, if only McLaggen would leave her alone… The seventh year had taken a seat close to her when Harry had waved him off and seemed to have decided that Hermione sitting close by was an invitation to hit on her. He kept trying even if she didn't so much as look at him. While she could admit that he was good looking, from what she'd heard from Harry about the Slug Club meeting and what she'd seen in person so far… well, she wasn't interested and his continued presence did much to set her even more on edge than she was. This was important to Ron and she wanted him to do well. She wanted to pay attention.
Thankfully, it didn't take long for Cormac to get called up to the hoops. The elation was short lived, though, as the blocked shots started to tally up. If he blocked all five Ron might get sufficiently discouraged to not do well at all. He could do it, Hermione knew that he could, but he needed to not get his confidence crushed completely in advance.
Without stopping to think about it, she discreetly drew her wand and pointed it at McLaggen. It was simple, really, even if it was dangerous. He could fall off his broom, the chances were there, no matter how good of a flyer he might be. It was a risk she was willing to take, however, and it paid off. Fifth shot missed and nobody was the wiser.
Really, it wasn't as simple as that. Even with Ron having saved five -how he managed that with his nerves apparently being bad enough to turn him grey was anyone's guess- as she knew that he could if he concentrated enough, McLaggen still tried to harass Harry into giving him another go. She heard him complaining from her spot by Ron's side as she congratulated him with a large grin. An expression that her friend returned.
Soon enough, and in high spirits, they were heading to Hagrid's, as she'd insisted this morning. It'd been a while since they'd all been in such a good mood and she wished the walk would take longer, as a chat about why exactly they quit his class would definitely not be a happy one. Add that to the fact that Harry was most often in a -contagiously- foul mood, well…
It was just that he hadn't had any luck with the map. Lestrange was always either in class or in her common room when they checked it. Nott and Greengrass only interacted with Slytherins. Malfoy and Parkinson were out after dark, of course, but they were Prefects and they never met up with anyone. Sometimes Zabini went with one of them but he never went off on his own so it wasn't a stretch to think that he was just keeping them company or stretching his legs. The only ones they could consider suspicious were the people the Prefects came across; other prefects and some students… but they never stopped to talk, even those students were just escorted back to their common rooms.
They'd taken note of the names, of course, some of them they knew, others not. But those students never interacted with any other Slytherins, only with members of their own house. Even if they were planning something, there was no way to prove anything. It angered Harry, of course, because everything pointed to what Hermione had already told him; he needed to talk to Lestrange. So far, she'd never been uncivil to him, even when she could have. She had even been friendly. Now, Hermione didn't believe that she could be trusted or anything of the sort, but it didn't seem all that far fetched that Lestrange might give something away.
She was snapped out of her train of thought when Harry suddenly seized her arm, stopping from walking into Buckbeak's range of attack. The animal was still something to be wary of and she'd never gotten past the fright it'd given her when it'd attacked Malfoy.
Harry, of course, was not in the least bit deterred from going up to him and stroking him, speaking in voice low enough that she could not make out what he was saying. She didn't have much time to think about it, though, as Hagrid came crashing from around the cabin, yelling for them to get away from the animal. Fang, recognising them quicker than his owner, didn't hesitate to jump up against her and Ron, trying to lick their faces.
It was a nicer welcome than what they got from Hagrid himself, who took one look at them and strode into his cabin, closing the door forcefully behind him.
"Oh, dear!" She exclaimed.
"Don't worry about it." Harry told her, a grim set to his face as he all but ran to the cabin as well. Knocking loudly, he raised his voice enough to be heard over the clamour. "Hagrid! Open up, we want to talk to you!"
At the lack of response, he took a step back and drew his wand. "If you don't open the door, we'll blast it open!"
"Harry!" She yelled, looking from Ron's shocked muteness to her other friend. "You can't possibly-"
"Yes, I can! Stand back-"
Before he could make another move, the door burst open. There stood Hagrid, huge, hairy, and fuming. Hermione had never been afraid of him and she wasn't about to start now, but she understood how anyone else might find him alarming. It wasn't every day that someone was bellowed at by an almost twelve foot tall man with enough hair to rival a bison. In fact, the imagery seemed quite spot on, in her opinion.
"I'm a teacher!" He roared. "A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh try to break down my door!"
"I'm sorry, sir." Harry stepped back, and if there was ever a time to be cheeky, this wasn't it. Clearly, he didn't notice.
"Since when have yeh called me sir?" Hagrid questioned, seemingly taken aback.
"Since when have you called me Potter?" Harry countered and Hermione closed her eyes in exasperation.
"Oh, very clever." Hagrid scowled down at all three of them. "Very amusin'. That's me outsmarted, innit? All righ', come in then, yeh ungrateful little-"
The three Gryffindors scuttled inside behind the enormous man, taking their seats by a table large enough to come up to their chests.
"Well?" Hagrid asked, taking a seat across from them. "What's this? Feelin' sorry for me? Reckon I'm lonely or summat?"
"No." Harry immediately answered. "We wanted to see you."
"We missed you." Hermione hurried to emphasise.
"Missed me, have yeh?" Hagrid snorted. "Yeah. Right."
Without saying anything further, he got to his feet and turned towards the kitchen. As he busied himself brewing tea, the silence in the hut grew more and more oppressive, and by the time he set down three bucket-sized mugs and a plate of rock cakes before them, Hermione and Ron were already looking down at the table.
Hermione looked up, picking up courage by the time Hagrid sat back down before them, peeling potatoes with a certain ferocity that she hadn't seen in him before.
"Hagrid," she began timidly "we really wanted to carry on with Care of Magical Creatures, you know."
Said man snorted derisively and kept peeling his potatoes, not looking up at them.
"We did!" She insisted. "But none of us could fit you into our schedules!"
"Yeah. Right." Hagrid repeated. "And how is it that miss Connors has ten classes, including mine? Is her schedule less crowded?"
A frown crept up on Hermione's face and she turned to look at Harry and Ron. While the latter seemed as surprised as she was, Harry seemed to turn a deep shade of burgundy as he opened his mouth to make an angry retort. Before he could, however, there was a loud squelching sound beside them.
She let out a tiny shriek as she got a good look at the source. There was a barrel full of maggots the size of her forearm, writhing, white, and slimy. There was an acrid smell in the air, now that she took a deep breath, which she'd mistaken for the horrid cologne Hagrid had worn in fourth year.
"What are they, Hagrid?" Harry asked when Hermione gave his hand a squeeze and a pleading look. Let the Connors thing go. They would clear things up later.
"Jus' giant grubs." Came the sullen reply.
"And they grow into…?" Ron attempted to clarify.
"They won't grow inter nuthin'," Hagrid scowled at them again. "I got 'em ter feed Aragog." And then, without so much as a shaky breath to warn them, he burst into tears.
"Hagrid!" Hermione cried, alarmed as she hurried around the table and to his side. Grabbing one of his hands, she tried to comfort him. "What is it?"
"It's him…" Hagrid tried to catch his breath and mop up the tears. "It's Aragog… I think he's dyin'… He got ill over the summer an' he's not gettin' any better. I don' know What I'll do if he…. we've bin tergether so long…"
At a loss for words, Hermione tried her best to comfort him, holding his hand and rubbing his shoulder. It was difficult, however, to come up with something to say that might cheer him up. After all, this was a side of him that she didn't understand, and she was never much good with cheering someone up with empty words.
"Is there… anything we could do?" She attempted, decidedly ignoring Ron's clear disapproval of the offer.
"I don't think there is, Hermione." Hagrid shook his gigantic head, trying to mop up the leftover tears with the back of his hand. "See, the rest o' the tribe… Aragog's family… they're getting a bit funny now he's ill… bit restive…"
"Yeah, I think we saw that side of him." Ron muttered but Hermione waved him away with a glare.
"I don' reckon it'd be safe fer anyone but me ter to go near the colony at the mo'," Hagrid took away the hand Hermione had been grasping to pull up his apron and blow his nose with it. "But thanks fer offerin', Hermione, it means a lot."
As if a switch had been flipped, the atmosphere in the room changed drastically, the belief that the three of them were willing to go and feed giant grubs to an acromantula seemingly comforting Hagrid enough to bring him back to his usual self almost completely.
"Ar, I always knew yeh'd find it hard ter squeeze me inter yer timetables," Hagrid waved a hand gruffly, pouring them more tea. "Even if yeh applied fer Time Turners-"
"Well, we couldn't have done." Hermione said hastily, trying to change the subject. Oh, Harry would latch on to this the second he could. "We smashed the entire stock of Ministry Time Turners when we were there last summer. It was in the Daily Prophet."
"Ar, well then, there's no way yeh could've done it-"
"How does Connors do it, then?" Harry asked. "If she's got more classes than we do…"
"Oh, that? She told me tha' Professor Snape arranged it." Hagrid shrugged. "I did 'er a faver and only give her one long class over the weekends. It's easy since she's the only one I've got. The other teachers know she can study alone, since she's missed so many classes over the years 'cus a' sickness and still did well. She only needs to go to practical classes, others are optional attendance as long as she gets her work done and passes tests-"
Hermione turned to Harry, already knowing that he would take this apparent liberty of movement on Lestrange's part as a bad sign. Sure enough, he was already staring at Hagrid with a stony expression, eyes not really processing anything they were seeing. She had been hoping that visiting Hagrid would serve as a distraction but it seemingly only worsened everything.
Blaise kept secrets, he did not divulge them. He'd been keeping his mother's secrets since he was old enough to understand that us never included his stepfathers. He'd learned how to be silent, how to watch, how to understand people, and to be aware of exactly how much what he knew was worth. In this case, what he knew was worth much more to him than simple -though important- gossip. In this case, the information he'd acquired was of personal value to him, much more dear than even the deposition they were planning.
Theo and Elbert's relationship had been much more intricate than any of them had been led to believe, apparently, and his friend had chosen to give him this information to reveal to Slughorn in measures of his own judgement. Blaise didn't know if he was more emotionally affected by what he'd learned or by the knowledge of just how much Theo trusted him and how much of himself he would risk for Anna. This information was, after all, of a very sensitive nature and, if the vulnerability displayed by Theo when speaking about it was any indication at all, revealing it to someone unworthy would be a great betrayal. Theodore Nott was, after all, not known for being very open with personal information. Merlin, Blaise hadn't known until fourth year that Mrs Nott hadn't died of simple dragonpox, as everyone in polite society insisted that she had.
Sometimes Blaise forgot just how close he was with his friends, being used to remaining mostly detached to people in the past, as his mother had taught him was best. It was a right smack in the face, being confronted with the reality of just how much he was trusted by -and in return trusted in- the ones around him. Personal things, weaknesses, desires… All these had been accepted, at some point or another, without a fuss and with promises to guard their left.
Dinner with the Slug Club, therefore, went by much more quickly than he'd expected it to. With Potter absent, McLaggen busy trying to charm both Granger and Daphne at once, and Daphne doing her best to backhandedly annoy the Weasley girl… it was enough to keep Slughorn entertained yet not enough to warrant any attention on his own part. Blaise was too busy trying to figure out exactly how much to divulge and in which manner to do so after dinner. He had to get everything precisely right, because that way Theo would be able to take over the whole keeping an eye on the new potions master deal and Blaise would not have to deal with the soul crushing guilt of having a stranger know too may of his friend's secrets.
Blaise blinked as the hand on his wrist tightened, looking down to the carefully polished nails and then back up to the pretty face of his girlfriend. There was a twinge of concern in the green of her eyes, though it was carefully hidden behind mirth and a mischievous smile. Quickly, Blaise got the meaning of her look and got to his feet, buttoning his fine jacket and straightening the lapels before stepping back and drawing Daphne's chair away from the table. In the time it took for her to take his arm and stand at his side, his face was once more carefully schooled into the indifferent boredom that was characteristic of him.
The students all followed Slughorn through his chambers and to the front door, but there, as the professor held the door open, he stood back. Daphne's hand on his arm was still uncharacteristically tight, as she knew why she had been forced to take all the socialising of the evening upon herself. Their cooperation was not an effortless one, to be sure, but sometimes it seemed like it was. Often, all they had to do was explain that there was something they needed to do, and the other would trust that whatever they did afterwards -until said goal was reported as complete- was for that purpose, and they would accept it silently. He had never expected to blindly allow someone to weave their plans around him, he had expected even less to be very much infatuated with that person, yet here he was. Oh, what his poor mother would say. Something sarcastic, no doubt, but Aphrodisia liked Daphne, so he doubted there'd be too many issues.
"Actually," Blaise cut in, as Slughorn extended a hand to wish him good night, "if you wouldn't mind, professor, I would be much obliged if you could spare a few moments to speak with me."
It was silent for a few seconds, as the old man processed what was being requested of him. Behind Daphne and Blaise, the Gryffindor guests -Granger, Weasley, McLaggen- quieted down to hear the answer.
"Well, of course, my boy!" Slughorn's mouth split into a jovial grin as he waved a hand toward the room they'd just come from. "Why don't you just step back in there and I'll be right with you."
"Thank you very much, professor." Blaise inclined his head in a polite thanks before turning to Daphne. As everyone watched and waited, he took her hand from his arm and pressed it to his chest. The three little lions had never really seen him be even slightly intimate with his girlfriend, if he recalled correctly, only hand holding and whispering. What a surprise this would be.
"I'll be back soon, love. I'm sorry to leave you to your own devises-" She knew this was coming, of course. It was no surprise to her, barely anything was when it came to him.
"No, darling, you do what you have to do." Daphne kissed him softly, before stepping away from him and giving the professor a charming smile. "Thank you for everything, sir, I had a wonderful time. I will see you in class."
"Miss Greengrass, if ever you cease to attend my dinners, I will surely be devastated." Came the answer that Blaise only barely heard as he made his way back to the dining area.
He passed between Granger and Weasley, feeling their eyes bore holes in the back of his neck, though the former's were definitely suspicious and the latter merely a result of being disliked. When passing McLaggen, however, he made sure to mutter clear instructions. The blond boy was to escort Daphne back to the Slytherin common room, he would not have her walking around the castle at night by herself and she didn't want to do so either. They, of all people, knew how many inhabitants of this castle were not to be trusted.
He stood in the lavish room, fingers playing with the candle wax dripping down from the flame. From his position by the window he could hear the goodbyes that the last guests gave Slughorn, though those didn't sound as sincere as Daphne's had. Not that hers had been any realer than theirs, she was just a better liar. Slughorn wasn't dull exactly, but he wasn't a wonderful conversation partner. He was bit too self-centred and bragged a bit too much about his former students for anyone to have a wonderful time.
Anyone with brains, however, knew that the Slug Club was a very beneficial place to be. If only its founder weren't such a bore to listen to, it might even be worth being in voluntarily. As the spy master of someone trying to take down a Dark Lord, however, he had no time to look at something as trivial as a possible benefit for the far off future. His possibilities of survival were lower than Anna's since the movement died with her, but a lot of vital information that could not be surrendered to outsiders died with him. He knew that the possibilities of him having to die for the safety of -well, everyone- were pretty hight, but he was also aware that Anna would do everything in her power to prevent that. She loved him, after all, and she shielded those she loved as much as she could.
"So, Blaise, what is it you need to talk about?" Slughorn closed the door behind him, coming forwards and taking a seat at the table.
Blaise looked at his professor, hesitating, before looking at the wooden surface before him. There was a thin layer of white wax over the tips of his fingers, creating a stark contrast with his dark skin. He ran his thumb over the slippery surface, thinking for a second, before making up his mind and moving towards his previous seat. The cup of tea he'd gotten for dessert still stood there, cold and untouched. He took a sip, keeping a grimace off his face.
"Remember that former friend of yours that you mentioned on the train, sir? Elbert Nott?" Blaise met the teacher's eyes. "You said you were disappointed with his life choices and had refrained from inviting his son. I… told you that Theo's relationship with his father was a special one…"
"Yes, that you did." Slughorn sighed. "But I'm afraid that that will make no difference, Blaise. Some people just cannot break from certain moulds-"
"Sir, please. Theo is my friend, and I know what you're talking about." This was where the delicate not-exactly-lies came in. "I just thought that, well, someone who's been such a valuable member to so many people- Theo hated his father, Elbert was a violent man in more than one way and Theo has been simply relieved to be away from him now. The problem is that he's still trapped in his father's life, in his way of thinking, even though he never had a choice."
Blaise was a very good actor, but desperation was not something he could pretend to feel. He wasn't pretending, though. All the anxiety, all the exhaustion, all the fear that he felt because of their current actions, he could pour them out now. Once and for all. To be completely disregarded forevermore. Now, he just had to lie about what it was that he was feeling desperate about.
"Please, sir. If anyone can help him, you can." He swallowed. "Theo is my dear friend and I don't want to lose him to such a- such a horrible-"
A deep sigh followed and Slughorn got to his feet. He rubbed a hand over the back of his non-existent neck, not looking at Blaise. In the dim light of the single remaining candle, he seemed to have gotten much paler. It wasn't a very difficult decision, in Blaise's eyes. The man was a teacher, and not a bad person. Wouldn't someone like him want to help a boy avoid making the 'wrong' decision? Surely, he would?
"Listen, Blaise, I know that your heart is in the right place, but I can't." The man eventually stated, coming to stand closer to him. Not too close though, he was holding the back of a chair three spots over from him. Almost as if he needed to stay away. "All this… well, Death Eater business is not something I want to get involved with. You, of course, understand why, but-"
"But, sir, you must." Was Blaise really going to have to beg? He wouldn't, but there were other ways to persuade him. "You're the only one who can help him, professor. Our Head of House, professor Snape, he's not exactly kind to us. He doesn't care like you do, because everything you do points to the fact that you truly care about your students, sir. And- well, he doesn't have parents, his current caretakers are very distant and too far away to matter right now… and the headmaster- well, he's never really here, is he? And he's too busy leading the light side of the war to be bothered with a single student. Please, sir. Who else can keep him from- from- well, destroying himself?"
Was it working? Blaise had curled his hands on the table top and fixed his eyes on the cold tea, he hadn't looked at his teacher. Emotional speeches were difficult for him on a good day, fake emotional speeches to a stranger with half-truths about his best friend? Well, he wouldn't have been able to meet anyone's eyes, to be honest. Not even Daphne's.
So he ran a hand over his short hair. His hair was so different from his mother's, so was his skin. To be honest, there were few things -appearance wise- that he'd gotten from her. His sharp amber eyes and high cheekbones were one, his agile build and elegant hands. Most of all, however, he'd taken after her personality-wise. Mother could wrap people around her finger within minutes, she could play and taunt and tease and still seem to be perfectly delightful and sincere. He could, if he tried, if the circumstances were right, with his eyes closed. But when something was really important, that was when self-doubt started creeping in. Was he truly his mother's son? Had these friendships, these loves, not weakened him? Made him lose his touch? No, if anything, they had given him a good reason to be the way he now. It was useful for more than just him, now, which was something that he wouldn't say he'd have wanted some years ago. The thought of ending up a carbon copy of Aphrodisia Zabini, with seven dead husbands, great wealth and no true companions, was one that made him feel hollow nowadays. He admired her, he wanted to be like her, but not exactly her.
With a bitter taste in his mouth, he looked up to where Slughorn was still standing. The man was looking at him, studying him with a shrewdness Blaise hadn't seen until now. He was trying to figure out if he was being used. Yes, he was, but it was important. Why were they going through such trouble to get close to him? Why was Blaise going through such inner turmoil just to get Theo to get close to him? He didn't know, Anna hadn't told them. She'd just said that the Dark Lord either wanted him on their side, or he wanted a memory destroyed. Only Anna was -out of all of them- powerful enough to destroy a memory, to wipe someone's mind completely clean. Wether she would or not was not something that Blaise knew. Sometimes he preferred not to know, if he didn't need to.
Whatever it was that Slughorn was looking for, he didn't find it, because he raised one of his hands and brought it back down on the wooden chair, patting it slightly. He shook his head and sighed.
"Ah, Blaise… you're a good lad. A good man, soon enough." He stepped back and walked to the window, not stopping to look through it before walking all the way back to Blaise's chair. "I'll tell you what. Why don't you bring him over the next time we all have tea? I'll get a proper look at him then and make up my mind."
Blaise shot up to his feet, eyes wide and shoulders clenching with restrained relief. "Thank you, sir. I'll make sure to bring him. Thank you so much."
Slughorn's magnanimous wave of a hand didn't bother him as much as it would have, earlier that night.
Lee paced up and down in the back room of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, eyes flitting back and forth from George's relaxed form in an armchair in the corner to the closed door. Fred had gone out ten minutes ago to fetch Andromeda and Tonks from the front door of the shop and hadn't come back. Surely, it couldn't take that long to pick up two people from a couple of floors down? After closing time, without having to worry about being discreet amongst clients, wouldn't it be even quicker? And yet, the younger twin did not seem perturbed in the least.
"It shouldn't take this long." Lee shook his head, standing still and turning to the other boy in the room. "Where is he?"
"Probably just getting the basics over with on the way here." George muttered, not opening his eyes. "Tonks is a curious person, she probably delayed them by asking too many questions."
"But you can't know that." Lee complained. "What if they were imperiused? What if they were followed and attacked when he opened the door? Something could have happened, other than Tonks being impatient!"
George sighed and got to his feet, walking over to Lee and placing a hand on his shoulder. "He'll be fine. Anna allowed us this, Pansy and Marcus are aware of what is going on. None of them would have run the risk of us getting found out or caught or hurt. I'm pretty confident that Pansy probably hounded Marcus into putting guards around the shop in case something happened."
Lee was not so sure about that. There were not all that many of them, not compared with the amount of actual Death Eaters or Ministry employees. Surely they couldn't spare enough people just to guard them? Flint was a busy man and Parkinson couldn't have as much control over everyone from all the way at Hogwarts. Still, he wanted to believe what George was telling him.
"I'm still not used to you calling him Marcus." He sighed, turning away from his friend and resuming his pacing. "Didn't know you were so friendly."
"He's still an arse, but he gets his job done… and he's a bit more openminded nowadays." George moved to follow him, quickly matching Lee's pace and staying by his side. "Not that he had much choice, of course, he mostly did it out of necessity and spite… but that's what fuels most of Slytherins' actions if you ask me."
Lee hummed, hands clenching and unclenching before him. An unfortunate side-effect of the silencing charms around the room was that they also couldn't hear anything from the outside. He couldn't tell if Fred was actually coming up the stairs or not. If he wasn't, if he'd been attacked or anything of the sort, then he and George had no way of knowing.
"Lee, come on. Look at me." The other boy hooked a hand in Lee's elbow and stopped his movements. He grabbed Lee's trembling hands and stilled them, holding them between them. "I trust them and I trust my brother. Most of all, I trust my twin. If he weren't all right, I would know. Just take a deep breath and sit down."
Lee opened his mouth to retort, just as the door swung open a few feet away. There stood Fred, followed by Andromeda and Tonks, all frozen in the motion of walking in. Less than a second later, the older twin had shrugged and walked in anyway, leaving the other two where they stood.
"If you wanted some privacy, mate, you could've put a sock on the door handle." He smirked, walking to the small kitchenette to one side. "Tea, ladies?"
"Hardy, har, har." George snarked, letting go of Lee's hands to walk over to the two women. "Come on in, I need to set the stronger protection spells now. Lots of sensitive stuff in here."
Andromeda and Tonks walked in as Lee grimaced, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning towards the chair George had been sitting in before. There he sank down, feeling the still warm cushions sag under his weight, and watched how the twins moved around the room. The elder was busy with a small kettle and some cups, chattering away about… the different ways muggleborns were collected, it seemed. The other boy was walking up and down the room, seemingly checking and altering the shielding spells around the room and the shop, and Lee found his eyes trailing his movements. His hands had stopped shaking, but they did itch, in a way.
"-right, mate?"
"Right what?" Lee asked, turning to Fred. The twins never referred to each other as mate, it was his designated title around them.
"We're the largest entry point for muggleborns."
"Uh, yeah." Lee nodded. "Not the most discreet, that would be the bookshop, but definitely the largest. She only gets one or two people a week, at the most, because it's in Knockturn Alley. Most muggleborns are too afraid to set foot in there. And special pick ups and meeting points are rare because they're very demanding. Too much trouble, too much risk. Here people can just waltz in during or after shopping hours, depending on how well known the person is and how much bulk they bring."
Fred nodded, a sly smile curling on his lips as he turned again to the two women. "But all that is not really important for you to know, since you won't be working in collecting muggleborns."
"Wait, what?" Tonks demanded. "Why not?"
"For your and everyone's safety." George countered, walking over and plopping down on the counter beside his brother. "Tonks, you're in the Order and you're an auror and the daughter of Bellatrix Lestrange's blood traitor sister. Andromeda, you're said sister and the wife of a missing muggleborn. You've both practically got a bullseye plastered to your backs. That all isn't going to help keep you, or the muggleborns we're hiding, safe."
Lee sighed. Well, if they put it that way, then telling them anything at all was a bad idea. Of course, he didn't know why Anna had decided that allowing them to be involved was at all okay. Lee didn't think that the twins knew either, they'd just gotten instructions and decided to follow them blindly. He was confused as to how they'd gone from completely wanting her dead last year to… well, this. There was something about interacting so closely with her that had made them much more loyal than what would be logical, though they were already very loyal people naturally. Lee had never met her face to face, all he knew was that she was cunning, trying to do the right thing, and cared about those that followed her. It had been enough for him to decide to join, but he never saw any more of the bigger picture than what he was told to do. Then again, he doubted anyone truly knew that girl's mind.
"Then what are we here for? Just so you can give away information?" Tonks ranted. "That's just the stupidest-"
"Dora, please." Andromeda spoke for the first time. Her dark eyes were piercing as she looked each other them up and down, though Lee was visibly more bothered by it that the twins. That's right, Anna was her niece, they would be used to being looked at like that.
"Why are we here, then, if it's not to help?" The woman asked. "I very much doubt that you, or those above you, would run such a risk for no reason."
If only she knew.
"I have absolutely no idea why you're here, to be honest." George shrugged. "We were just told to let you come in and tell you what you wanted to know-"
"Make sure you don't spread it around, of course." Fred cut in. "But also just give you some more discreet jobs."
"Like, Andromeda will be looking around St. Mungo's for muggleborns that could possibly have jobs or connections or some such thing that would get them in trouble. Tonks would be more involved with how the Ministry's doing things and what the Order does that that we -as junior members- are not aware of… etcetera. Nothing too risky." George added. "And, of course, at a certain point you will both be taken into hiding, no questions asked, only to go out when you are part of a larger group."
Tonks started spluttering, something about barely doing anything at all, while her mother started carefully at each of them. It was clear that she suspected something.
"So, you're letting us get 'involved' so you can keep an eye on us and ground us when things get too ugly?"
It was a rhetorical question, really, and it quickly became clear to the three boys that that was exactly what they would be doing. Keep them in hand, keep them busy, keep them safe. Like children, really, because they were risks and they ran risks, and those were not things Anna was fond of.
"Who is in charge?" Was the following question, and it brought all three of them to a standstill. Metaphorically speaking, since they weren't moving.
Lee grimaced. They technically hadn't been told not to tell, but they also hadn't been told that it was alright to do so. Really, he was hesitant of doing things that might throw problems at anyone that dealt with more issues than just the muggleborns, since the twins and him weren't aware of the complete plan and could -therefore- end up creating more problems than they solved. And Andromeda and Tonks' reactions could potentially be more than problematic.
"Well… I mean, Tonks knows who it is, right Tonks?" George answered, an uneasy smile adorning his face.
"What? No, I don't." Tonks' hair turned orange in her confusion before turning once more to the discreet brown it'd adopted to sneak here. "What are you talking about?"
Fred sighed, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You have to promise to believe us- and promise that you won't freak out."
"And why exactly would we do that?" Andromeda questioned, gaze flickering from her daughter to the twins and then to Lee.
Lee closed his eyes. This was probably going to be a long night.