After a while, the friends finally went to sleep. Hermione was out as soon as her head hit the pillow. Unfortunately, her deep sleep was short-lived. She found herself wide awake around three in the morning after a particularly horrible nightmare. After lying there and trying to imagine shapes in the cobwebs (and only seeing gravestones from the cemetery), Hermione quietly got out of bed and snuck down the stairs to the kitchen. She thought maybe a nice glass of milk or water could help her calm down and go back to sleep.
As she turned the corner into the kitchen, Hermione jumped back in fear. There, under the table, was some sort of creature! Terror overcame her. She couldn't breathe. Out of pure habit and fear, Hermione reached for her wand but realised she had left it in her room. She cursed herself silently and knew she needed to get out of there. Hermione spun around and took off in the direction of the stairs. She only got two steps before hitting a giant, squishy wall.
"'Mione?" Ron said, grabbing her before she fell backwards. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Ron! Th-th-there's something—"
"Filthy mudblood," came a loud whisper from where she had seen the creature.
"Kreacher, you bloody git," Ron growled, looking over Hermione's shoulder at whatever was behind her.
"Mudblood in the noble house, bringing shame to the Black family. Disgraceful, it is."
"Kreacher, I'm warning you!"
"Yes, Master Weasley. Kreacher is sorry, Master Weasley," came the voice again but then dropped to a whisper once more. "Blood traitor in the house of Black, serving his Mudblood-loving friend. Kreacher doesn't approve."
"Damnit, Kreacher!" Ron said, letting go of Hermione and lunging towards the creature.
"Ron, stop!" Hermione said, trying to grab him as he passed her. She managed to catch his nightshirt and slow his advancement. The creature scampered across the room to a small cupboard or pantry and slammed the door shut behind him. "What was that?" Hermione asked.
"Kreacher," Ron said. "The Black's tosser of a house elf… and before you even start, he is anything BUT worth your worry about his rights or whatnot. He's a right git and deserves no sympathy."
"But Ron—"
"'Mione," he said, grabbing her by the shoulders again. This time, however, it was much gentler. She looked up into his eyes. "He's like the house elf version of Malfoy. He's awful."
"Wouldn't you if you were—"
"Can we save the spew talk for another day?" Ron asked. "Why are you up at three in the morning anyway?"
"Had a nightmare," Hermione said. "What are you doing up?"
"Same," Ron said. "Fancy a game of Wizard Chess?"
Hermione smiled. Wizard Chess sounded perfect.
The next few days were a whirlwind of cleaning and getting used to living at the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters. Hermione had never worked so hard at cleaning in her life, but she loved every moment. She learned all about the different kinds of vermin of the Wizarding World that infested the house. Dodging dark magical items and potions added an intense thrill to each day.
Hermione formally met Kreacher at breakfast one day. Ron was right—Kreacher was not a very lovely house elf. However, could anyone blame the poor elf? Hermione would be miserable, too, if she had a life in servitude with wizards who resented her.
She always made it a point to treat Kreacher kindly regardless of whatever he said about her (which was always a lot). Some of his insults hurt, but Hermione was adamant about treating him with as much kindness as she could muster. During one of his visits, Dumbledore reiterated the importance of the Order extending kindness to the old house-elf.
The Extendable Ears proved to be a very lucrative tool. During the Order of the Phoenix meetings, they would all take turns listening in and trying to discern what was going on.
Almost every night, Hermione would wake up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and nearly every night, she and Ron would meet up in the kitchen for a game of Wizard Chess. They didn't talk much—just played until one or both felt tired enough to go back to sleep.
Spending time with Tonks had proven to be incredibly fascinating. Unlike Animagi, Metamorphmagi could take a wide variety of forms, changing gender and age, potentially looking like anyone at all, or even just changing a part of their appearance, such as the colour of their hair or the shape of their noses. Animagi could also transform at will, but only into one animal form determined by their inner traits. There seemed to be no limit to Tonk's ability, and Hermione, Ginny, and Ron tested it every night when she would visit.
It seemed as though any animosity Mrs Weasley may have had towards Hermione during the last year was ancient history, much to Hermione's relief. Since Hermione was the only one remotely interested and excited about cleaning, she and Mrs Weasley started to chat quite a bit. Hermione learned all about Mrs Weasley's family and, sadly, about her brothers, Fabian and Gideon, and their untimely deaths in the first Wizarding War.
Hermione also asked Mrs Weasley for knitting lessons, which Mrs Weasley gladly obliged. Ginny had never been interested; knitting was Mrs Weasley's favourite pastime. At first, Hermione thought it was an excellent hobby to help clear her mind, but then an idea started forming: if she could make something simple like hats, she could give them to the house elves at Hogwarts! And if enough of them were freed, the rest would gladly join them! Hermione made the mental calculations of how much she'd have to raise the dues of SPEW to finance the endeavour, and it seemed perfectly doable. It wasn't much, but it was something.
They also talked at length about Hermione's parents. "I know how hard it must be," Mrs Weasley said one day while trying to clean out an old cupboard filled with sharp, ominous objects. "I can only imagine not being able to share such an important part of yourself with your parents."
"Exactly!" Hermione said. "That's exactly it! And every time I do try, they try to diminish it."
"And every time they try to share a part of themselves with you…" Mrs Weasley let the thought dangle in the air unfinished.
Hermione saw her point, but it was much more complicated. "I definitely understand it works both ways," she began, her thoughts a tangled mess she struggled to articulate. "But it truly has been this way for my whole life, not just when I found out I was a witch."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. She explained her complicated relationship with her parents for most of her childhood. "And then, right before I got my Hogwarts letter, it was like a switch got flipped, and they started to care," Hermione continued, trying not to get choked up. "And that's all I had ever wanted! I was so happy. But then I went to Hogwarts and saw that love didn't have to be—" Hermione paused to think of the right word. "Love didn't have to be work. Or, better said, love shouldn't be work, especially between parents and a child."
Mrs Weasley took a few moments before responding. "As a mother, I can assure you that your parents absolutely do love you and have loved you since you were born. Loving you wasn't the part they had a problem with; showing they loved you was where they needed to work. And it's becoming harder and harder for them to do that because you are a witch who is only home a few weeks out of the year."
"I guess," Hermione said.
"But it doesn't make it hurt any less," Mrs Weasley read Hermione's mind aloud.
"No, it doesn't."
"Here's what I propose," Mrs Weasley said, setting the rubbish bin aside and taking Hermione's hands in hers. "Love your parents for who they are: flawed people who love you dearly and only want the best for you—and believe me, they do. That's all they want. But they don't know enough about the Wizarding World to be able to help you on that journey, so their suggestions will never be what you need. But that's okay!" Mrs Weasley wiped a tear that had escaped from Hermione's eye. "Because we all love you too and can fill in where they can't."
Overwhelmed by emotion, Hermione's tears burst forth in racking sobs. She threw her arms around Mrs Weasley and hugged her tight. "Thank you, Mrs Weasley," she said.
"Always, dear," Mrs Weasley said.
Late that night, Hermione and Ron played Wizard Chess in the kitchen. Hermione's dream that night had been, unsurprisingly, of her parents in the graveyard. Ron and Mrs Weasley had come to try to save them, but He Who Must Not Be Named murdered everyone. It took Hermione a few minutes to steady her trembling hands enough to move the pieces without knocking them over.
Even though they rarely talked much while playing, Hermione couldn't shake this dream. "Tonight's dream was a bad one," Hermione said as she moved her knight. "How about you?"
"Erm," Ron said, shifting in his seat. "Yeah, me too."
"What was it about?"
"Uhh—"
"I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Hermione said quickly.
"No, it's not that," Ron said.
Hermione tilted her head sideways in confusion. "What is it then?"
"I didn't have a bad dream tonight," Ron muttered.
"Oh," Hermione said, even more confused. "Well, that's a good thing, isn't it? But why are you awake then?"
Ron sighed, his face flushing as he looked up at her. "I borrowed Dad's Muggle alarm clock so I'd be sure to be awake if you had a bad dream. I know, it's stupid. I just didn't want you to be by yourself."
It took a few moments for Hermione to be able to speak. She feared her voice would betray her emotions, so she whispered softly. "It's not stupid, Ronald. It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me."
"Ha!" Ron laughed awkwardly. "Even the stuff that Vicky did for you?"
Hermione knew he was using humour to mask his feelings and wasn't going to let him off that easily. "Yes, especially all of the stuff Viktor did for me." Driven by an overwhelming urge, Hermione did something she never thought she'd have the courage to do. She rose from her chair and leaned over the table to kiss Ron.
CRASH!
Hermione opened her eyes to see Ron splayed on the floor.
"What happened? Are you alright?" she asked.
"Erm, no," he said, his voice shaking. "I mean, yeah. Sorry. I just saw you and—I just—I wasn't sure—And I got—"
Hermione immediately sat back down, mortified, as Ron stuttered incoherently. It was quite clear what happened. She went in for a kiss, and Ron tried to dodge it and fell off his chair.
"Listen, 'Mione, I—"
"It's fine," Hermione said shortly. "I'm getting tired again. Good night."
"'Mione, wait, it's not—"
"I'll see you tomorrow," Hermione said as she sprinted up the stairs. Thankfully, she made it to her bed before the tears started to fall.
Hermione did her best to avoid Ron the following day. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she couldn't meet anyone's eyes without feeling the sting of mortification. She wasn't sure whether or not to tell Ginny but eventually gave in. Ginny tried to console her, but all she could offer was, "He's a stupid git," with a sympathetic shrug.
Eventually, the two friends fell back into a friendly rhythm, but Hermione built a wall around her feelings, determined to see Ron only as her best friend, no matter what. Ron seemed relieved they didn't have to talk about what happened and acted like it had just been a dream.
Speaking of dreams, Hermione still had them most nights but refrained from going downstairs. She had no idea if Ron was still using the alarm clock and didn't want to find out.
At the beginning of August, Hermione helped Mrs Weasley prepare dinner. Suddenly, Mrs Black's screams once again filled the house. "What on earth," Mrs Weasley muttered, wiping her hands on her apron, her brow furrowing with concern as she headed towards the stairs to see what was happening. "Tonks isn't due today."
"Molly! Molly!" Mr Weasley was yelling over the top of the Black matriarch.
"Arthur, what on earth!?"
"We have to call an emergency meeting of the Order," Arthur said, breathing hard.
"Why? What happened? What's wrong?"
"It's Harry," Mr Weasley stuttered. "He performed a Patronus Charm in Little Whinging, and Fudge is trying to expel him from school and seize his wand."
"What's that now?" Sirius asked from the doorway.
"Hermione, dear," Mrs Weasley said. "Go upstairs with Ginny for right now, please. We need to have a meeting."
"But what happened to Harry?" Hermione asked.
"We need to find all of that out," she replied, shooing Hermione towards the door leading to the staircase. "You can ask Ron and Ginny to help with Mrs Black."
Just as Hermione turned to object, Mrs Weasley closed the kitchen door behind her.
"Where is everybody?" shouted Ginny over the screams of Mrs Black. "Are we going to just let the old hag scream?"
"Here, help me get it closed," Hermione shouted back.
"Right, because this is soooo easy without magic," Ginny pouted. "Oi! Fred! George!"
There was a loud crack, and the twins appeared next to them. Ginny just pointed at the portrait. Fred and George sprang into action. Within a few minutes (and many curse words from both the twins and Mrs Black), the twins managed to get the curtains closed. In that time, Professor Lupin, Professor Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt all rushed into Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and ran past the group of students towards the kitchen.
"What on earth is going on?" Ron demanded, his face pale with worry.
"Something about Harry," Hermione said, her voice tight with concern.
"What happened?" Ginny asked, eyes wide with alarm.
"I'm not sure," Hermione replied. "Your dad came running in, talking about Dementors and seizing Harry's wand, and then I was pushed out of the kitchen."
"Do you know what time it is, Fred?" George asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"I think I do, George. It's—"
"Extendable Ears Time!" they both said in unison.
With a crack, the twins Disapparated to their rooms and reappeared moments later, each holding an Extendable Ear. The group hurried to the staircase and began lowering the ears down towards the kitchen.
"Ginny, keep an eye on the front door," George instructed.
"Bugger off," Ginny whispered fiercely. "You're mental if you think I'm going to miss this."
"Fine," Fred sighed. "Ron, keep an eye on the front door."
"I'm not even going to respond to that, mate," Ron said darkly. "I'll stay right here, thanks."
"If you lot are the reason we lose these," George started but then fell silent, concentrating on the flesh-coloured string in his ear. "Wait, I can hear them! Shhh!"
Hermione and the others waited in tense silence as George strained to listen to the conversation in the kitchen. Minutes felt like hours. When George finally pulled the string from his ear, his expression was grave.
"I'm not sure if I got all of this right, but from what I gather, Harry and his chav of a cousin were attacked by Dementors. Harry ended up pulling out his wand and performing the Patronus Charm. They escaped, but Fudge went absolutely mental. He's threatening to expel Harry and take his wand. There's even going to be a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry."
"But he was just trying to protect himself!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice rising in anger.
"Right, but Fudge doesn't care," Fred said, shaking his head.
"He's been working with the Daily Prophet to discredit anything Harry or Dumbledore says," George added. Hermione's heart sank; she had been reading the horrendous lies in the Daily Prophet all summer.
"He's right," Hermione whispered, her mind racing. "This is bad."
"Should we try to call Harry or send him a letter?" Ron suggested, his worry evident.
"Leave that to us," came a voice from the hallway. In their bickering, they had wholly missed Dumbledore's arrival. He looked livid, his usually twinkling eyes now blazing with anger. Hermione had never seen the headmaster so furious.
"The Order will take care of it, not students," Dumbledore said sternly.
"Yes, sir," Hermione mumbled, terrified of his wrath.
"Why don't you five go upstairs and prepare for Harry's arrival," Dumbledore instructed. "I have some issues to attend to."
"He's coming here?" Hermione asked, her heart skipping a beat.
"Eventually, yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "All in due time. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to have a discussion with Mundungus Fletcher." With that, Dumbledore descended the staircase to the kitchen, his robes billowing behind him.
Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George exchanged incredulous looks. The tension in the air was palpable, each of them processing the gravity of the situation in their own way. Finally, George broke the silence with a wry grin. "Who wants to take bets on how long before Harry explodes after he gets here?"
Hermione didn't need to bet—she could already feel the heat of Harry's anger from miles away. She knew he would be livid even before he set foot in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
A few owls from Mr Weasley and Dumbledore swiftly handled the initial chaos and confusion. Once the Order wasn't panicked, they allowed everyone back into the kitchen. The five friends had tons of questions, all of which were tutted away by Mrs Weasley.
Determined to help, Hermione threw herself into researching the potential trouble Harry might face at his disciplinary hearing. She came across the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, which made it acceptable for underage wizards to use magic in life-threatening situations. This knowledge helped Hermione calm herself down a bit. There was an obvious, straightforward defence. Moreover, from what she could tell, the Ministry had no jurisdiction over Hogwarts; therefore, Fudge could not expel Harry.
They were in for another surprise later that day. Out of the blue skies of London flew Hedwig, Harry's snowy white owl, and landed in the drawing room where Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were cleaning some Doxies. There were three pieces of parchment in the owl's beak: one addressed to her, one to Ron, and the third to Sirius. They all read:
I've just been attacked by Dementors, and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.
Guilt washed over Hermione as she reread the parchment, her heart sinking with each word. She then passed it off to Ron.
"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, his face paling. "He's livid."
"What do we do?" Ginny asked, her voice tinged with worry.
"There's not much we can do," Hermione said, feeling helpless.
"Ouch!" exclaimed Ron. Hermione looked over to see Hedwig pecking at Ron's hands as if she were trying to make him write a return letter. "I can't! I'm not allowed to write to him!" Ron pleaded, holding his bloody finger.
They finally calmed Hedwig down after a while and let her fly around with Ron's owl, Pig, but they knew that whenever Harry did get there, he'd be a lot more furious than Hedwig was.
Three days later, Headquarters was in a frenzy of activity once again. Hermione learned that a guard of Order Members was about to collect Harry and bring him back. She tried not to worry too much about her best friend needing an advanced guard of powerful witches and wizards to travel to London, but she couldn't help herself. Dumbledore must have been right—things were much more dangerous than they realised.
The Advance Guard, made up of Professor Moody, Professor Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Emmeline Vance, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, and Sturgis Podmore, departed Twelve Grimmauld Place on brooms headed for Four Privet Drive. The wait was excruciating. Hermione and Ginny tried to play a game of Exploding Snap to keep their minds off what might be happening, but neither was paying much attention. Hermione knew Ginny still cared deeply for Harry but, like she was doing with Ron, tried to keep it as platonic as she could muster. Still, the worry was evident on her face.
After an hour or so, other Order of the Phoenix members started to arrive, including Bill Weasley. Mrs Weasley welcomed him warmly and ushered him into the drawing room. On the other hand, Mundungus Fletcher, a petty thief and all-around lowlife, arrived reeking of Firewhisky and did not get a warm welcome in the least. He had been there a few times before, and Hermione did her best to ignore him. She had no idea why he would be included in the Order. She suspected Mrs Weasley felt the same way, especially since it was Mundungus who had skipped out on Harry's guard duty when the Dementors attacked.
Fred and George disappeared to their room, probably to work on their Extendable Ears some more. Ginny looked to be a nervous wreck and decided to go up to their room to take a nap. Hermione was much too on edge to sleep or be quiet, so she accepted Ron's invitation to come to his room. It would be their first time alone since the night of the almost kiss.
"You think he's gonna be okay?" Ron asked, his voice heavy with concern.
"Honestly?" Hermione replied, meeting his worried gaze. Ron nodded. "I think he will make it here safely... I just don't know what kind of mental state he will be in."
"Yeah, I've been worried about that too," Ron admitted. "He's gonna be right pissed at us."
"Probably, yeah," Hermione said with a sigh. "We're just going to have to make sure he understands—"
The sound of the serpent doorknob creaking open interrupted them. They both turned towards the door as it opened, revealing their raven-haired best friend taking a tentative step inside the room. Hermione couldn't contain herself and shrieked, throwing herself at him.
"HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have; I know our letters were useless – but we couldn't tell you anything; Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't; oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us – the Dementors! When we heard – and that Ministry hearing – it's just outrageous; I've looked it all up; they can't expel you; they just can't; there's a provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations—"
"Let him breathe, Hermione," Ron said, grinning as he closed the door behind Harry.
Hermione released Harry and took a good look at him. He looked absolutely horrible. His skin was pale and gaunt, with deep circles under his eyes magnified by his round glasses. His shoulders were tense, and he seemed to be on constant guard. Hedwig flew down from the rafters of Ron's room and landed on Harry's shoulder, and Hermione watched him relax slightly.
"Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed, stroking her feathers. The owl seemed to give him an affectionate little nibble.
"She's been in a right state," said Ron. "Pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters. Look at this—" He showed Harry the cut on his hand from Hedwig.
"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know—"
"We wanted to give them to you, mate," said Ron. "Hermione was going spare; she kept saying you'd do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us—"
"—swear not to tell me," said Harry. "Yeah, Hermione's already said."
They fell into an awkward and strained silence. Hermione's chest tightened with stress and guilt. She could feel a panic attack coming on, knowing the mental anguish Harry had been going through. She had to say something. Anything.
"He seemed to think it was best," said Hermione rather breathlessly, trying to pass some of the guilt she felt to the Headmaster (who certainly deserved some). "Dumbledore, I mean."
"Right," said Harry.
"I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles—" Ron began.
"Yeah?" said Harry, raising his eyebrows. "Have either of you been attacked by Dementors this summer?"
"Well, no, but that's why he's had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time—" Ron stuttered.
"Didn't work that well, though, did it?" said Harry. "Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?"
"He was so angry," said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice. "Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended, he was scary."
"Well, I'm glad he left," Harry said coldly. "If he hadn't, I wouldn't have done magic, and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer."
"Aren't you ... aren't you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?" said Hermione quietly. She knew he had a solid defence, but it was still terrifying to think about the alternatives.
"No," Harry said defiantly, then started walking around the room. It was a few moments before he spoke again. Hermione and Ron exchanged nervous glances.
"So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?" Harry asked, "Did you bother to ask him at all?"
Hermione took a deep breath, but thankfully, Ron beat her to answering.
"We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on," said Ron. "We did, mate. But he's really busy now, we've only seen him twice since we came here, and he didn't have much time. He just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote; he said the owls might be intercepted."
Harry's expression hardened. "He could still've kept me informed if he'd wanted to," he said shortly. "You're not telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls."
Hermione exchanged a troubled glance with Ron before admitting, "I thought that, too. But he didn't want you to know anything."
"Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted," Harry said, bitterness creeping into his voice.
"Don't be thick," said Ron.
"Or that I can't take care of myself."
"Of course, he doesn't think that!" said Hermione anxiously.
Harry's frustration boiled over. "So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys' while you two get to join in everything that's going on here?" he demanded, his voice growing louder with every word. "How come you two are allowed to know everything that's going on?"
"We're not!" Ron interrupted. "Mum won't let us near the meetings; she says we're too young—"
But Harry had had enough. His following words came out in a shout, each cutting through Hermione like a knife. "SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS' FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO'VE EVER MANAGED, AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT – WHO SAVED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS? WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!"
Ron stood there with his mouth half-open, stunned and at a loss for words. Hermione felt tears prickling in her eyes.
"BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?"
"Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did—" Hermione began, her voice trembling.
"CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR—"
"Well, he did—"
"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON—"
"We wanted to—"
"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER—"
"No, honest—"
Hermione couldn't take it anymore. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she felt them spill over. "Harry! We're really sorry!" she said, her voice breaking. "You're absolutely right, Harry! I'd be furious if it was me!"
Harry glared at her, breathing deeply. A chill went through Hermione's body. His eyes seemed so empty, but she tried to hold his gaze long enough for him to see she, indeed, was sorry. He turned away from them, pacing up and down the room. There was a long pause, broken only by the mournful creak of the floorboards beneath Harry's feet. Hermione wanted to look at Ron for support but feared Harry would catch her and misinterpret the gesture.
"What is this place, anyway?" Harry shot at Ron and Hermione, making her jump.
"Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," said Ron at once.
"Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix—"
"It's a secret society," Hermione interrupted quickly. "Dumbledore's in charge; he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time."
"Who's in it?" Harry demanded.
"Quite a few people—"
"We've met about twenty of them," said Ron, "but we think there are more."
"Well?" Harry demanded, looking from one to the other. Hermione's confusion mirrored Ron's expression.
"Er," said Ron. "Well, what?"
"Voldemort!" Harry said furiously, and both Ron and Hermione winced. "What's happening? What's he up to? Where is he? What are we doing to stop him?"
"We've told you, the Order don't let us in on their meetings," Hermione said nervously. "So we don't know the details – but we've got a general idea," she added hastily, seeing the look on Harry's face.
"Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see," said Ron. "They're really useful."
"Extendable—"
"Ears, yeah. Only we've had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realised what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know—"
"Some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order—" said Hermione.
"And some of them are standing guard over something," said Ron. "They're always talking about guard duty."
"Couldn't have been me, could it?" Harry said coldly, making Hermione wince.
"Oh, yeah," said Ron, with a look of dawning comprehension.
Harry snorted and began pacing the room again, looking anywhere but at Ron and Hermione. "So, what have you two been doing if you're not allowed in meetings?" he demanded. "You said you'd been busy."
"We have," said Hermione quickly. "We've been decontaminating this house; it's been empty for ages, and stuff's been breeding in here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms, and I think we're doing the drawing room tomo—AARGH!"
With two loud cracks, Fred and George apparated into the room. Pigwidgeon twittered more wildly than ever and zoomed off to join Hedwig atop the wardrobe.
"Stop doing that!" Hermione said weakly to the twins, trying to get her heart rate back under control.
"Hello, Harry," said George, beaming at him. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."
"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," said Fred, also beaming. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you." Hermione almost let out an anxious snort of laughter.
"You two passed your Apparation tests, then?" asked Harry grumpily.
"With distinction," said Fred.
"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," said Ron.
"Time is Galleons, little brother," said Fred. "Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception. Extendable Ears," he added, holding up a pair for Harry to see. "We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs."
"You want to be careful," said Ron, staring at the Ear, "if Mum sees one of them again…"
"It's worth the risk; that's a major meeting they're having," said Fred.
The door opened, and Ginny popped her head in.
"Oh, hello, Harry!" she said. "I thought I heard your voice." Hermione could hear a hint of sarcasm in her tone.
Turning to Fred and George, Ginny said, "It's a no-go with the Extendable Ears; she's gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door."
"How d'you know?" said George, looking crestfallen.
"Tonks told me how to find out," said Ginny. "You just chuck stuff at the door, and if it can't make contact, the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs, and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap."
Fred heaved a deep sigh. "Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to."
"Snape!" said Harry quickly. "Is he here?"
"Yeah," said George, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds; Fred and Ginny followed. "Giving a report. Top secret."
"Git," said Fred idly.
"He's on our side now," Hermione said mindlessly before realising the words coming out of her mouth. She was just so used to defending the professors…
Ron snorted. "Doesn't stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us."
"Bill doesn't like him, either," said Ginny.
"Is Bill here?" Harry asked. "I thought he was working in Egypt?"
"He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order," said Fred. "He says he misses the tombs, but," he smirked, "there are compensations."
"What d'you mean?"
"Remember old Fleur Delacour?" said George. "She's got a job at Gringotts to improve her English—"
"And Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons," sniggered Fred. This was certainly news to Hermione. She looked at Ginny, who confirmed it all with a nod. Hermione made a point to ask Ginny about it later.
"Charlie's in the Order, too," said George, "but he's still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off."
"Couldn't Percy do that?" Harry asked. The Weasleys exchanged darkly significant looks.
"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad," Ron told Harry tensely.
"Why not?"
"Because every time Percy's name's mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding, and Mum starts crying," Fred said.
"It's been awful," said Ginny sadly.
"I think we're well shot of him," said George, with an uncharacteristically ugly look on his face.
"What's happened?" Harry asked.
"Percy and Dad had a row," said Fred. "I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts."
"It was the first week back after term ended," said Ron. "We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted."
"You're kidding?" said Harry.
"Yeah, we were all surprised," said George, "because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch; there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realised Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know, Percy, Crouch left him in charge; he wasn't going to complain."
"So, how come they promoted him?"
"That's exactly what we wondered," said Ron. "He came home really pleased with himself – even more pleased than usual if you can imagine that – and told Dad he'd been offered a position in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts: Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think."
"Only Dad wasn't," said Fred grimly.
"Why not?" said Harry.
"Well, apparently, Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore," said George.
"Dumbledore's name is mud with the Ministry these days, see," said Fred. "They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back."
"Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks," said George.
"Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad; he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession."
"But what's that got to do with Percy?" asked Harry, confused.
"I'm coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family – and Dumbledore."
"Bet Percy loved that," Harry whistled.
Ron laughed in a hollow sort of way. "He went completely berserk. He said – well, he said loads of terrible stuff. He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition, and that's why we've always been – you know – not had a lot of money, I mean—"
"What?" said Harry in disbelief as Ginny made a noise like an angry cat.
"I know," said Ron in a low voice. "And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he – Percy – knew where his loyalty lay, and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family anymore. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now. Mum's been in a right state," said Ron. "You know – crying and stuff. She came up to London to try and talk to Percy but he slammed the door in her face. I dunno what he does if he meets Dad at work – ignores him, I s'pose."
"But Percy must know Voldemort's back," said Harry slowly. "He's not stupid; he must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof."
"Yeah, well, your name got dragged into the row," said Ron, shooting Harry a furtive look. "Percy said the only evidence was your word and... I dunno... he didn't think it was good enough."
"Percy takes the Daily Prophet seriously," said Hermione tartly, and the others nodded.
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, looking around at them all. They were all regarding him warily.
"Haven't – haven't you been getting the Daily Prophet?" Hermione asked nervously.
"Yeah, I have!" said Harry.
Clearly, he had not been. Hermione tried to be kind and chose her following words carefully. "Have you – er – been reading it thoroughly?" Hermione asked, still more anxiously.
"Not cover to cover," said Harry defensively. "If they were going to report anything about Voldemort, it would be headline news, wouldn't it?"
Hermione tried not to react too much to the name and set Harry off again. "Well, you'd need to read it cover to cover to pick it up, but they – um – they mention you a couple of times a week."
"But I'd have seen-"
"Not if you've only been reading the front page, you wouldn't," said Hermione, shaking her head. "I'm not talking about big articles. They just slip you in like you're a standing joke."
"What d'you-?"
"It's quite nasty, actually," said Hermione in a voice of forced calm. "They're just building on Rita's stuff."
"But she's not writing for them any more, is she?"
"Oh, no, she's kept her promise – not that she's got any choice," Hermione added with satisfaction. "But she laid the foundation for what they're trying to do now."
"Which is what?" said Harry impatiently.
"OK, you know she wrote that you were collapsing all over the place and saying your scar was hurting and all that?"
"Yeah," said Harry.
"Well, they're writing about you as though you're this deluded, attention-seeking person who thinks he's a great tragic hero or something," said Hermione, very fast, because, in her mind, it would be less unpleasant for Harry to hear these facts quickly. "They keep slipping in snide comments about you. If some far-fetched story appears, they say something like, 'A tale worthy of Harry Potter,' and if anyone has a funny accident or anything, it's, 'Let's hope he hasn't got a scar on his forehead, or we'll be asked to worship him next-'"
"I don't want anyone to worship-" Harry began hotly.
"I know you don't," said Hermione. "I know, Harry. But you see what they're doing? They want to turn you into someone nobody will believe. Fudge is behind it. I'll bet anything. They want wizards on the street to think you're just some stupid boy who's a bit of a joke, who tells ridiculous tall stories because he loves being famous and wants to keep it going."
"I didn't ask – I didn't want – Voldemort killed my parents!" Harry spat. "I got famous because he murdered my family but couldn't kill me! Who wants to be famous for that? Don't they think I'd rather it'd never-"
"We know, Harry," said Ginny earnestly.
"And, of course, they didn't report a word about the Dementors attacking you," said Hermione, trying to get Harry to see what she was trying to explain. "Someone's told them to keep that quiet. That should've been a really big story, out-of-control Dementors. They haven't even reported that you broke the International Statute of Secrecy. We thought they would; it would tie in so well with this image of you as some stupid show-off. We think they're biding their time until you're expelled, then they're really going to go to town – I mean, if you're expelled, obviously," she went on hastily. "You really shouldn't be, not if they abide by their own laws. There's no case against you."
Harry looked like he was going to say something but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Uh oh."
Fred gave the Extendable Ear a hearty tug; there was another loud crack, and he and George vanished. Seconds later, Mrs Weasley appeared in the bedroom doorway.
"The meeting's over. You can come down and have dinner now. Everyone's dying to see you, Harry. And who's left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?"
"Crookshanks," said Ginny unblushingly. "He loves playing with them."
"Oh," said Mrs Weasley, "I thought it might have been Kreacher. He keeps doing odd things like that. Now, don't forget to keep your voices down in the hall. Ginny, your hands are filthy. What have you been doing? Go and wash them before dinner, please."
Ginny grimaced at the others and followed her mother out of the room, leaving Harry alone with Ron and Hermione. Both Hermione and Ron stared at Harry, trying to gauge his mood. He looked ashamed, his eyes cast downwards.
"Look…" Harry muttered, but Ron shook his head, and Hermione said quietly, "We knew you'd be angry, Harry. We really don't blame you, but you've got to understand, we did try to persuade Dumbledore-"
"Yeah, I know," said Harry shortly, and Hermione shut up. She didn't want the whole thing to start over again.
Harry glanced around the room, clearly trying to shift the focus. "Who's Kreacher?" he asked.
"The house-elf who lives here," said Ron before Hermione could open her mouth. "Nutter. Never met one like him."
Hermione frowned at Ron. "He's not a nutter, Ron."
"His life's ambition is to have his head cut off and stuck up on a plaque just like his mother," said Ron irritably. "Is that normal, Hermione?"
"Well – well, if he is a bit strange, it's not his fault."
"Hermione still hasn't given up on SPEW," Ron said, and Hermione thought she saw him roll his eyes.
"It's not SPEW!" said Hermione heatedly. "It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. And it's not just me. Dumbledore says we should be kind to Kreacher, too."
"Yeah, yeah," said Ron. "C'mon, I'm starving."
He led the way out of the door and onto the landing, but before they could descend the stairs –
"Hold it!" Ron breathed, flinging out an arm to stop Hermione and Harry from walking any further. "They're still in the hall. We might be able to hear something."
The three of them looked cautiously over the bannisters. The gloomy hallway below was packed with witches and wizards, whispering excitedly together. Professor Snape was at the centre of the group. The mere sight of him made Hermione's insides turn over.
A thin piece of flesh-coloured string descended right in front of them. They all looked up and saw Fred and George on the landing above, cautiously lowering the Extendable Ear towards the dark knot of people below. A moment later, however, they all began to move towards the front door and out of sight.
"Dammit," Fred whispered as he hoisted the Extendable Ear back up again.
They heard the front door open and then close.
"Snape never eats here," Ron told Harry quietly. "Thank God. C'mon."
"And don't forget to keep your voice down in the hall, Harry," Hermione whispered. Waking up Mrs Black would probably send Harry entirely over the edge.
As they passed the row of house-elf heads on the wall, they saw Lupin, Mrs Weasley, and Tonks at the front door, magically sealing its many locks and bolts behind those who had just left.
"We're eating down in the kitchen," Mrs Weasley whispered, meeting them at the bottom of the stairs. "Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall, it's through this door here-"
CRASH.
"Tonks!" cried Mrs Weasley in exasperation, turning to look behind her.
"I'm sorry!" wailed Tonks, lying flat on the floor. "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over-"
But the rest of her words were drowned by the horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling cries of Mrs Black.
Everyone snapped into motion except Harry, who stood in shock with his hands over his ears. Lupin and Mrs Weasley darted forward and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old woman, but they would not close, and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at their faces.
"FILTH! SCUM! BY-PRODUCTS OF DIRT AND VILENESS! HALF-BREEDS, MUTANTS, FREAKS, BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE! HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS-" As she screamed, a chill seemed to settle over the hallway, and Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that these walls had witnessed horrors far worse than they could imagine.
Tonks apologised repeatedly, dragging the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor. Mrs Weasley abandoned the attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, stunning all the other portraits with her wand. Suddenly, Sirius appeared in the hallway.
"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" Sirius roared, seizing the curtain Mrs Weasley had abandoned.
The old woman's face blanched.
"YOOOOU!" she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. "BLOOD TRAITOR, ABOMINATION, SHAME OF MY FLESH!"
"I said – shut – UP!" yelled Sirius, and with a spectacular effort, he and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed again.
The old woman's screeches died, and an echoing silence fell.
Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, Sirius turned to Harry, who was standing with his mouth agape.
"Hello, Harry," he said grimly, "I see you've met my mother."