CHAPTER 5: EMBER ENCLAVE
The shock on Arthur's face was palpable as he glanced at the screeching portrait of Sirius' mother. "That hag is your mother?" he exclaimed, aghast on two fronts. First, the realization that the unpleasant woman in the portrait was Sirius' mother, and second, the acknowledgment that this grim place was Sirius' home, rooted in the legacy of a Slytherin family.
Sirius, with a bitter undertone in his voice, confirmed, "Yeah, my dear old mum." He gave Arthur a quick hug. "We've been trying to get her down for a month now, but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."
"Am I right in guessing you once lived here?" Arthur inquired as they navigated through the door from the hall, descending a flight of narrow stone steps, with the others following closely.
"Yes, it's my parents' house," Sirius admitted with a tinge of resentment. "But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for Headquarters, about the only useful thing I've been able to do."
The bitterness in Sirius's words hinted at a complex relationship not only with his family but also with Dumbledore. The shared animosity between them added an extra layer of tension to the already foreboding atmosphere.
At the bottom of the steps, they entered a basement kitchen. The gloominess persisted, matching the rough stone walls that seemed to absorb any semblance of light. A large fire at the far end provided most of the illumination, accompanied by a haze of pipe smoke that lingered in the air, reminiscent of the aftermath of a fierce battle. Menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans dangled from the dark ceiling, casting shadows that danced in the corners of the cavernous room.
Chairs were crammed into the space for the meeting, and a long wooden table, cluttered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what looked like rags, stood in the center. Martha, her eldest son Rob, and Sam were huddled together at the end of the table, engrossed in a quiet conversation.
Martha cleared her throat, drawing attention, and her husband, Benjamin Merlon, a tall man with short silver hair and a hint of stubble, looked up and rose to his feet. "Arthur!" he exclaimed, hurrying over to greet him, shaking his hand warmly. "It's good to see you're alright!"
Over Benjamin's shoulder, Arthur noticed both Rob and Sam. Rob, with his long silver hair in a ponytail, was hastily rolling up lengths of parchment left on the table, while Sam maintained his proper appearance.
The air in the basement kitchen crackled with unspoken tensions, both within the group and in the history that clung to the very stones of Grimmauld Place. As Arthur joined the gathering, he couldn't shake the feeling that the echoes of the past were alive and well, haunting the present and shaping the uncertain future that lay ahead.
"Was your journey alright, Arthur?" Sam inquired, looking up from the scrolls he was organizing while Rob gathered twelve of them at once.
"Moody had better not make you come here via Greenland," Rob joked, a hint of mischief in his voice.
"He tried," Tonks chimed in, striding over to help Rob and, in the process, accidentally toppling a candle onto the last piece of parchment. "Oh no, sorry—"
"Let me," Martha interjected, sounding exasperated as she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand. In the flash of light caused by her charm, Arthur caught a glimpse of what looked like plans for a building.
Martha noticed his curiosity and swiftly snatched the plans off the table, stuffing them into Rob's already overloaded arms. "This stuff really should be promptly cleared away when meetings end," she snapped before sweeping off toward an ancient dresser, unloading dinner plates.
Rob, wielding his wand, muttered "Evanesco!" and all the scrolls vanished. "Sit down, Arthur," Sirius instructed. "You've met Mundungus Fletcher, haven't you?"
It turned out the heap of rags was none other than Mundungus, who emitted a prolonged, grunting snore before jerking awake. "Some'n say m'name?" he mumbled sleepily. "I 'gree with Sirius…." He raised a grubby hand in the air, as if casting a vote, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused.
Mary rolled her eyes in disgust. "The meeting's over, Dung," Sirius announced as they all settled around the table. "Arthur's arrived."
"Eh?" Mundungus said, peering balefully at Arthur through his matted ginger hair. "Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah… you alright, Arthur?"
"Shut up, Fungus," Arthur retorted, resulting in several others snorting at the nickname.
Mundungus fumbled nervously in his pockets, still staring at Arthur. He pulled out a grimy black pipe, stuck it in his mouth, ignited the end with his wand, and took a deep pull on it. Greenish billowing clouds of smoke obscured him within seconds, adding an additional layer of chaos to the already cluttered room.
Tonks, with a smirk, commented, "Well, at least Dung's consistent. Smells just as bad as ever."
Laughter rippled around the table, momentarily lifting the heavy atmosphere in the basement kitchen. As the banter continued, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that he had stepped into a world where every corner held a secret, and every character had a story that added to the complex tapestry of the Order of the Phoenix.
"I owe you a 'pology," Mundungus's voice grunted from the middle of the smelly cloud.
"I'm sure he doesn't want an apology from you, after what you've done, Fungus, so shut up," Ben snarled, now using the new nickname.
"And for the last time, stop smoking that thing in the kitchen, especially since we're about to eat!" Martha called out, her patience wearing thin.
"Ah," Mundungus said, his voice muffled. "Right. Sorry, Martha."
The cloud of smoke vanished as he stowed his pipe back into his pocket, leaving behind the acrid smell of burning socks.
"If any of you want dinner before midnight, I'm gonna need a hand," Martha announced to the entire room. Arthur didn't volunteer, not only because he was a bit tired from the day's events but also because Martha wouldn't hear of it.
"What can I do, Martha?" Tonks said enthusiastically, bounding forward.
"No offense, Tonks, but you should rest. You've already done enough for today," Martha said, looking apprehensive, considering Tonks's reputation for clumsiness.
"No, no, I want to help!" Tonks insisted brightly, knocking over a chair as she hurried towards the dresser, from which Mary collected cutlery.
The room buzzed with activity as a bunch of heavy knives seemed to chop meat and vegetables of their own accord, thanks to Ben's magical assistance. Martha stirred a cauldron over the fire, releasing the savory aroma of cooking, while the others took out plates, more goblets, and food from the pantry.
Arthur was left at the table with Sirius and Mundungus, who still blinked at him mournfully. Sirius, with a smirk, leaned in, whispering to Arthur, "You've just experienced the chaos that is the Order's attempt at a meal. It's a miracle we don't burn the place down every time."
Mundungus, perhaps feeling the weight of his recent transgressions, muttered, "Sorry 'bout earlier, Arthur. Didn't mean no harm, just got caught up."
Arthur, though still wary of Mundungus, nodded in acknowledgment. Before the conversation could delve any deeper, Martha's voice cut through the bustling kitchen. "Sit tight, boys. Dinner will be ready in a jiffy."
As the savory scents enveloped the room, the camaraderie and shared tasks seemed to momentarily ease the tension that lingered in the air. Arthur couldn't help but marvel at the peculiar dynamics of this eclectic group, each member contributing to a cause that transcended personal differences.
"Seen old Figgy since?" Sirius asked casually.
"I thought me and Ben told you to shut up," Arthur snarled, effectively silencing Sirius.
Arthur then felt a gentle brush against his knees, startling him momentarily. It turned out to be Crookshanks, Chrys' bandy-legged ginger cat with a Kneazle lineage, winding itself around Arthur's leg before purring contentedly. The cat then leaped onto Sirius' lap, curling up. Sirius absentmindedly scratched behind Crookshanks' ears, casting a sympathetic look toward Arthur.
"Good summer?" Sirius inquired.
"No, it's been the worst," Arthur replied with a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry about that," Sirius said, a touch of guilt in his expression as he glanced at the others. "I know you're most likely bitter towards Dumbledore, and you have every right to be. At least I have everyone here, even though I've been stuck here for a month."
"Because of Dumbledore," Arthur added, his tone indicating that he understood the predicament all too well.
"Yes. Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now. Wormtail will have told him, making my big disguise useless. There isn't really much I can do for the Order, according to Dumbledore, who forced me to remain here."
"Plus, you've been knowing what's going on," Arthur acknowledged.
"Yeah," Sirius responded sarcastically. "Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time… asking me how the cleaning's going—"
"The cleaning?" Arthur interjected, growing resentful towards Snape for his snide remarks directed at his godfather.
"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," Sirius explained, waving his hand dismissively. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in ages."
"Sirius," Mundungus said, clearly not paying attention to the conversation, instead examining an empty goblet. "This solid silver, mate?"
"Yes," Sirius replied, surveying it with some distaste. "Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."
"That'd come off, though," Mundungus muttered, polishing it with his cuff, causing Arthur to shake his head in disapproval.
Meanwhile, Jack and Kevin diligently performed their tasks. They bewitched a large cauldron of stew to float gracefully onto the table. With great care, they carried an iron flagon of Butterbeer and a heavy wooden breadboard with a knife, adding to the preparations for the upcoming meal. The kitchen, though chaotic, was filled with a strange sense of camaraderie as each member played their part in creating a semblance of normalcy within the walls of Grimmauld Place.
"We tried using magic to sort things out once," Jack whispered to Arthur. "It was disastrous."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the notion of a magical attempt gone awry. "Disastrous, you say?"
"Come on, let's eat," Rob interjected, steering the conversation away from magical misadventures.
"It looks wonderful, Martha," Lupin complimented as he ladled stew onto a plate for her, handing it across the table.
For the next few minutes, there was nothing but a comforting silence, punctuated only by the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. The aroma of the freshly prepared stew filled the air, momentarily drowning out the lingering mustiness of Grimmauld Place.
Martha, breaking the silence, turned to Sirius. "There's something trapped in the writing desk in the drawing room; it keeps rattling and shaking. There's a chance it could be a Boggart, but I think we should ask Moody to take a look at it before we let it out."
"Sure," Sirius replied, his eyes briefly meeting Arthur's before turning his attention back to Martha.
"Also, the curtains in there are full of Doxys. We should deal with them tomorrow," she added.
"That'll be fun," Sirius said, his tone laced with sarcasm, already anticipating the chaotic endeavor.
Opposite Arthur, Tonks was entertaining Chrys and Mary by transforming her nose between mouthfuls. She'd screw up her eyes each time, displaying a pained expression as her nose swelled to a beak-like protuberance resembling Snape's. It then shrank to the size of a button mushroom, sprouting some hair from each nostril. The two girls seemed delighted, requesting their favorite noses as part of what appeared to be a regular mealtime entertainment.
As the meal progressed, laughter and conversation flowed, momentarily dispelling the lingering shadows within the basement kitchen. The eclectic group, bound by a shared cause, found solace and camaraderie in the simple act of sharing a meal, even in the most unlikely of places. The atmosphere, though still tinged with the weight of their responsibilities, carried a hint of warmth and connection.
"Do the pig snout, please!" Chrys requested eagerly.
Tonks, always one to entertain, readily obliged. Arthur couldn't help but chuckle as he witnessed what looked like a female version of his old school bully before he discovered he was a wizard.
As the playful transformation spectacle continued, Arthur's attention shifted to the other end of the table. Ben, Rob, Sam, and Lupin were engaged in an intense discussion about goblins.
"They aren't giving anything away yet," Rob remarked. "But I'm very sure that they aren't picking a side, regardless of whether they think Voldemort's back."
"I'm sure that it's because of what Bagman did, that stupid moron," Sam added with contempt. Arthur realized that Sam might be onto something. Goblins didn't inherently trust wizards, a fact he recalled from his History of Magic lessons. Considering Bagman's dubious dealings with a group of goblins, he might have complicated their relationship further.
"Besides, even if they did choose sides, I don't think they'd go and join Voldemort," Ben said, shaking his head. "They've suffered losses of their own, like that family he murdered the last time, up near Nottingham."
Lupin voiced his thoughts on the matter, saying, "I think it depends on what they're offered. And I'm not talking about gold. If they're offered the freedoms we've been denying them for centuries, they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Rob?"
"He's still anti-wizard at the moment," Rob replied. "He continues raging about what Bagman did, reckoning the Ministry did a cover-up, that those goblins he dealt with never got their gold from him—"
Arthur's attention was abruptly diverted to the middle of the table, where Mundungus was weaving a tale for the twins, David and Mike. Their faces lit up with excitement as Mundungus spun his story, adding a touch of whimsy to the otherwise serious atmosphere in Grimmauld Place.
"...and then…" Mundungus choked, tears streaming down his face. "...and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'e says, ''Ere, Dung, where didja get all them toads from? 'Cos some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!' And I says, 'Nicked all your toads, Will, what's next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?' And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back orf me for a lot more'n what 'e paid in the first place—"
"We do not need to hear any more of your business dealings, Fungus," Martha interjected sharply, observing that her sons and Mike weren't finding the story amusing.
"Beg pardon, Martha," Mundungus said at once, wiping his eyes. "But, you know, Will nicked 'em orf Warty Harris in the first place, so I wasn't really doing nothing wrong."
"Wherever or however you learned right and wrong is clearly twisted, Fungus. And you've missed a few crucial lessons," Martha said coolly before rising to her feet to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for pudding.
"Why is that pathetic trash part of the Order?" Arthur asked his godfather, watching Mundungus with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment.
"He's useful," Sirius muttered. "Knows all the crooks… well, he would, seeing as he's one himself. But he's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Fungus around; he hears things we don't. Martha, as well as Ben, thinks that inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. The both of them, especially Ben, haven't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you."
After three generous helpings of rhubarb crumble and custard, making the waistband on Arthur's jeans uncomfortably tight, he laid down his spoon, signaling the end of his indulgence. A collective contented sigh reverberated around the table.
There was a lull in the general conversation as people savored the sweet aftermath of the meal. Ben leaned back in his chair, looking very relaxed. Tonks, her nose now back to normal, yawned widely, indicating the satisfying conclusion of the evening. Mary sat cross-legged on the floor with Crookshanks, rolling some Butterbeer corks for him to chase. The room exuded a comfortable atmosphere, as the eclectic assembly of individuals shared not only a meal but also a sense of camaraderie forged by their commitment to the Order of the Phoenix.
"Nearly time for bed," Martha announced with a wide yawn.
"Not yet, Martha," Sirius interjected, pushing away his empty plate and turning to Arthur. "I'm honestly surprised that you didn't ask any questions about Voldemort."
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, becoming tense and alert. Lupin, who had been relatively relaxed, lowered his goblet, his expression now wary.
"I did!" Arthur responded indignantly. "I asked David and Chrys, but they said that we're not allowed in the Order—"
"And they're right," Martha cut him off sharply. "You're just too young." She sat bolt upright in her chair, fists clenched.
Arthur's frustration flared. "You're really using that stupid argument after all that we've dealt with since going to Hogwarts?" They had faced challenges that even adult wizards would find daunting, and yet they had managed to navigate through them.
"And since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius chimed in. "Arthur's been trapped with his Muggle relatives for a month. He has the right to know what's been going on!"
"What about us?" Jack interjected, his anger palpable. "We're not little children! We can handle whatever information you're thinking of telling Arthur! And Kevin and I are of age already!"
"Did you forget what Dumbledore said?" Martha redirected her attention to Sirius, pointedly ignoring Jack.
"Forget what?" Sirius responded, looking like he was about to engage in a shouting match.
"The bit about not telling Arthur more than he needs to know," Martha emphasized, her tone unyielding.
"We're talking about Arthur, remember?" Sirius argued. "He was the one who saw Voldemort come back. He has the right to know."
Martha's gaze shifted between Sirius and Arthur, her contemplation evident. Finally, she looked over to her husband, who nodded in agreement, indicating that Sirius was right. The room hung in an uneasy silence, the weight of unspoken truths and withheld information lingering in the air.
"Martha, I get that you're trying to care for me, but I'm not some scared little child," Arthur asserted. He gestured towards the other underage individuals at the table. "None of us are. And if I'm getting told what's going on, then so do they."
"But Dumbledore told us—"
"Well, Dumbledore is wrong for thinking I don't deserve to know what's going on!" Arthur cut her off angrily, frustration evident in his tone.
"And besides, Martha…" Lupin interjected quietly. "...we don't need to tell him all the facts, just the general picture. Especially from us, and not some garbled version from other sources."
Arthur looked at Lupin gratefully, recognizing that Lupin understood his frustrations better than anyone in the room.
Martha, deep in thought, eventually sighed. "Alright. You deserve to know what's going on. And everyone else can stay and listen." She gestured to her children, Chrys, and Mike.
"So, Arthur… what do you want to know?" Sirius asked, getting straight to the point. The others leaned in, their expressions reflecting a mix of curiosity and readiness to share information.
Arthur took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to voice the questions that had occupied his thoughts over the past month. The weight of uncertainty and the desire for clarity fueled his resolve. The room fell silent, the air pregnant with anticipation as Arthur prepared to delve into the complexities of the war against Voldemort.
"Where's Voldemort? I've been keeping my eyes and ears open for any strange deaths or accidents, and nothing. It's like he's hiding," Arthur questioned, expressing a concern that had been gnawing at him.
"That's because there haven't been any strange deaths or accidents yet," Sirius explained. "Not as far as we know, anyway… and we know quite a lot."
"More than he thinks we do, anyway," Lupin added, a hint of satisfaction in his smile.
"So he's not killing because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself?" Arthur posited, echoing a suspicion that had lingered in his mind. His uncle had also pointed out this idea before the Dementors attacked.
"Exactly," Sirius nodded. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."
"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Lupin added, acknowledging Arthur's role in the unexpected turn of events.
"Because I lived and told Dumbledore," Arthur replied, recognizing the significance of his survival. "Yep! You weren't supposed to survive! Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."
"The very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore. And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once," Lupin explained.
"And we all know that Voldemort fears Dumbledore like some scared little brat," Arthur snorted.
"So thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned," Sirius continued.
"And what has the Order been doing?" Arthur inquired, glancing around at the table, eager for more insights into the ongoing efforts against Voldemort.
"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," Sirius revealed, the gravity of the situation weighing on the room. The shadows of uncertainty cast by Voldemort's return loomed large, but Arthur found solace in the collective determination of those around him to resist and thwart the dark wizard's ambitions.
"And what are his plans, exactly?" Arthur inquired, a sense of urgency coloring his tone.
"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea…" Lupin replied. "...and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."
"And what does he think Voldemort's planning?"
"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," Sirius explained. "In the old days, he had huge numbers at his command: witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one of the groups he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."
"And you're trying to stop him from gaining more followers?"
"We're doing our best," Lupin affirmed.
"How, exactly?"
"Well, the main thing we've focused on is trying to convince as many people that Voldemort is back, to try and put them on their guard," Rob explained.
"But it's been tricky, to say the least," Sam added.
"Because of the Ministry?" Arthur questioned.
"Exactly," Tonks confirmed. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after You Know Who came back, Arthur. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."
"But why would that stupid idiot think like that?" Arthur expressed his frustration. "If Dumbledore—"
"That's the issue there," Ben interrupted, a repulsed expression on his face. "Dumbledore."
"Fudge is frightened of him, you see," Tonks said sadly, revealing a complicated dynamic that added another layer of complexity to the already intricate situation.
"Frightened of Dumbledore?" Arthur exclaimed incredulously.
"More like frightened of what he's up to," Ben clarified. "Fudge believes that Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. That Dumbledore wants to be Minister for Magic."
"No one in their right mind would think that Dumbledore would want—"
"Well, of course, he doesn't," Ben interjected. "He never wanted the job at all, despite a lot of people wanting him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, never forgetting how much more popular support Dumbledore had, despite Dumbledore never applying for the job."
"Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry, he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice," Lupin added. "But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister for Magic and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."
"But how could that fool think that?" Arthur hissed angrily. "How could he think Dumbledore, and myself, made it all up?"
"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," Sirius explained bitterly. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him."
"You see the problem," Lupin continued. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumor-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."
"But aren't you telling people?" Arthur asked, his gaze sweeping across Ben, Rob, Sam, Mundungus, Lupin, and Tonks. "Aren't you letting people know he's back?"
They all smiled humorlessly.
"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass murderer, and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" Sirius remarked.
"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," Lupin added. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."
"Tonks, Ben, and Sam would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off…" Sirius explained. "...and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry because you can bet Voldemort will have them."
"But we did manage to convince a couple of people," Ben said. "Tonks, for example. She would've been too young to be in the Order last time, and having more Aurors on our side is a big advantage. I managed to convince Kingsley Shacklebolt, who's been a real asset, being in charge of the hunt for Sirius, feeding information to the Ministry that Sirius is in Tibet."
"But if none of you are putting out the news that Voldemort's back -?"
"Who said none of us are putting the news out?" Sirius interjected. "Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?"
"What trouble?" Arthur frowned.
"They're trying to discredit him," Lupin revealed. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot, that's the Wizard High Court, and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."
"Though Dumbledore has said he doesn't care what they do, though he hopes they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards," Rob added with a wry smile.
"The issue is that if he keeps defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban," Ben said grimly. "And that's the last thing we want. While Voldemort knows Dumbledore's out there, he's being cautious. If Dumbledore's out of the way, he'll have a clear field."
"But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more followers, it has to eventually get out that he's back, right?" Arthur asked desperately.
"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Arthur," Sirius explained. "He tricks, jinxes, and blackmails them. He's well-practiced at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment."
"And what is he after, other than followers?" Arthur asked swiftly. He saw both Sirius and Lupin exchange a fleeting look before Sirius answered.
"Stuff he can only get by stealth."
Arthur looked a bit puzzled, prompting Sirius to say, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."
"When he was powerful before?"
"Yes."
"Something more powerful than the Killing Curse?"
"That's enough!" Martha spoke, shooting up to her feet. "It's time for you all to go to bed," she declared, looking at all the underage people and the twins.
"You've given Arthur enough information," she said to Sirius, her tone final.
Begrudgingly, they were all beckoned by her, and one by one, they stood and left, Arthur in particular feeling a bit annoyed.
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