This chapters will have snippets from my fanfic Twelve Kisses.

Chapter 141: Touch And Go

Harry jumped out of bed at once, pulled on his dressing gown and pushed his glasses back onto his nose.

"Weasley, you ought to come too," said Professor McGonagall, looking over at me. I nodded and put my robe on over my pajamas.

We followed Professor McGonagall past the silent figures of Neville, Dean and Seamus, out of the dorm, down the spiral stairs into the common room, through the portrait hole and off along the Fat Lady's moonlit corridor. We walked in silence with both Harry and McGonagall wearing panicked expressions on their faces. A few minutes later, we had reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Fizzing Whizbee," said Professor McGonagall.

The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continually upwards like a spiral escalator. The three of us stepped onto the moving stairs; the wall closed behind them with a thud and we were moving upwards in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin.

Even though it was well past midnight, there were voices coming from inside the room. It sounded as though Dumbledore ams a room full of people were entertaining themselves.

Professor McGonagall rapped three times with the griffin knocker and it immediately got quiet. The door opened and Professor McGonagall led Harry and I inside.

The room was in half-darkness; the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snoozing in their frames. Behind the door, Fawkes was perched, sleeping with his head covered by his beautiful red-orange wing.

'Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall ... and ... ah."

Dumbledore was sitting in his throne-like chair behind his desk; he leaned forward and his blue eyes seemed to twinkle in the dim candlelight as he stared intently at Professor McGonagall.

"Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a ... well, a nightmare," said Professor McGonagall. "He says-"

"It wasn't a nightmare," said Harry quickly.

Professor McGonagall looked round at Harry, frowning slightly.

"Very well, then, Potter, you tell the Headmaster about it."

"I ... well, I was asleep ..." stuttered Harry. "But it wasn't an ordinary dream ... it was real ... I saw it happen ... Ron's dad-Mr. Weasley-has been attacked by a giant snake."

I looked from Harry to Dumbledore as fear started to creep up on me.

"How did you see this?" Dumbledore asked quietly, not looking at Harry.

"Well ... I don't know," said Harry in a rather snippy voice. The kind he had when he was growing impatient with someone. "Inside my head, I suppose-"

"You misunderstand me," said Dumbledore, still in the same calm tone. "I mean ... can you remember-er-where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"

I looked at the man confused as Harry did.

"I was the snake," said Harry slowly. "I saw it all from the snake's point of view."

Dumbledore looked at me, his face seemed as if he was holding back emotions, but his voice sounded sharper when he said , "Is Arthur seriously injured?"

"Yes," said Harry, looking at me also.

Dumbledore stood up and addressed one of the old portraits hanging near the ceiling. "Everard?" he said sharply. "And you too, Dilys!"

A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both of whom seemed to have been in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately.

"You were listening?" said Dumbledore.

The wizard nodded; the witch said, "Naturally."

"The man has red hair and glasses," said Dumbledore. "Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people."

Both nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighbouring pictures (as usually happened at Hogwarts) neither reappeared. One frames now contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather armchair.

"Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwarts most celebrated Heads," Dumbledore said, walking over towards Fawkes. "Their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere ."

"But Mr. Weasley could be anywhere!" said Harry.

"Please sit down, all three of you," said Dumbledore, as though Harry had not spoken, "Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes. Professor McGonagall, if you could draw up extra chairs."

Professor McGonagall pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waved it; three chairs appeared out of thin air. I sat down beside Harry, still not knowing what to think.

Dumbledore was now stroking Fawkes's golden head with one finger. The phoenix awoke immediately. He stretched his beautiful head high and observed Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.

"We will need," Dumbledore said very quietly to the bird, "a warning."

There was a flash of fire and the phoenix had gone.

Dumbledore now swooped down upon one of the fragile silver instruments, carried it over to his desk, sat down facing us again and tapped it gently with the tip of his wand.

The instrument tinkled into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. Tiny puffs of pale green smoke issued from the minuscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore watched the smoke closely, his brow furrowed. After a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air ... a serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide. It reminded me of the Dark Mark that was in the sky at the World Cup.

"Naturally, naturally," murmured Dumbledore apparently to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. "But in essence divided?"

Both Harry and I looked at the confusing sight. Neither of us knew what to make of it, nor what the devices were for, and certainly no clue as to what Dumbledore was saying.

Suddenly, there was a shout from the top of the wall to our right; the wizard called Everard had reappeared in his portrait., panting slightly.

"Dumbledore!"

"What news?" said Dumbledore at once.

"I yelled until someone came running," said the wizard, who was mopping his brow on the curtain behind him, "said I'd heard something moving downstairs-they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check-you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left-"

I almost fell out of my chair. My dad really had been attacked. I felt the room spin and I wanted to scream, but my body wouldn't make a sound.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive, then-"

And moments later, the silver haired witch had reappeared in her picture, too; she sank, coughing, into her armchair and said, "Yes, they've taken him to St. Mungo's, Dumbledore ... they carried him past my portrait ... he looks bad.."

I could feel Harry's eyes on me as I leaned forward into my hands.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore. "Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children."

'Of course ...'

Professor McGonagall got up and moved swiftly to the door. Harry looked over at me as I moved my hands from my face. I felt terrified, horrified. What if he...

"And Dumbledore- what about Molly?" said Professor McGonagall, pausing at the door.

"That will be a job for Fawkes when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching," said Dumbledore. "But she may already know ... that excellent clock of hers."

He was of course, talking about our family clock. Dad's hand was surely pointing to 'mortal peril' right now, so Mum was probably either on her way there, or having a panic attack.

Dumbledore was now rummaging in a cupboard behind Harry and I. He emerged from it carrying a blackened old kettle, which he placed carefully on his desk. He raised his wand and murmured, "Portus!" For a moment the kettle trembled, glowing with an odd blue light; then it quivered to rest, as solidly black as ever.

Dumbledore marched over to another portrait, this time of a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard, who had been painted wearing the Slytherin colors of green and silver and was apparently sleeping so deeply that he could not hear Dumbledore's voice when he attempted to rouse him.

"Phineas. Phineas."

The subjects of the portraits lining the room were no longer pretending to be asleep; they were shifting around in their frames, the better to watch what was happening. When the clever-looking wizard continued to feign sleep, some of them shouted his name, too.

"Phineas! Phineas! PHINEAS!"

"Did someone call?"

"I need you to visit your other portrait again, Phineas," said Dumbledore. "I've got another message."

"Visit my other portrait?" said Phineas in an uppity, giving a long, fake yawn. "Oh, no, Dumbledore, I am too tired tonight."

I was about to shout at the portrait, but before I could open my mouth, the other portraits had beaten me to it.

Insubordination, sir!" roared a red-nosed wizard, shaking his fists. "Dereliction of duty!"

"We are honour-bound to give service to the present Headmaster of Hogwarts!" cried a frail-looking old wizard. "Shame on you, Phineas!"

"Shall I persuade him, Dumbledore?" called a witch, raising an unusually thick wand that looked not unlike a birch rod.

"Oh, very well," said the wizard called Phineas, eyeing the wand with mild apprehension, "though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done away with most of the family-"

"Sirius knows not to destroy your portrait," said Dumbledore. "You are to give him the message that Arthur Weasley has been gravely injured and that his wife, children and Harry Potter will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?"

"Arthur Weasley, injured, wife and children and Harry Potter coming to stay," repeated Phineas in a bored voice that made me want to rip his portrait to shreds. 'Yes, yes ... very well."

He slipped away into the frame of the portrait and disappeared from view at the very moment the study door opened again. Fred, George and Ginny came in behind Professor McGonagall, all three of them looking out of sorts, still in their night things.

"Harry-what's going on?" asked Ginny, who looked frightened. "Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad get hurt-"

"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore, before Harry could speak. Ginny gasped and ran over to me, gripping my waist tight and burying her face into my chest. Fred and George stood as still as statues, looking just as horrified as I had earlier.

"He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than The Burrow. You will meet your mother there."said Dumbledore, calmly.

"How're we going?" asked Fred, in a shaky voice. "Floo powder?"

"No," said Dumbledore, 'Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey." He nodded over at the old kettle lying on his desk. "We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back ... I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you-'

There was a flash of flame in the very middle of: the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor.

"It is Fawkes's warning," said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. "Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds ... Minerva, go and head her off-tell her any story-"

Professor McGonagall was gone with a quickness that I had never seen the woman move before.

"He says he'll be delighted," said a bored voice behind Dumbledore; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. "My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests."

"Come here, then," Dumbledore said to Harry and the rest of us. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us."

We all gathered around Dumbledore's desk. "You have all used a Portkey before?" asked Dumbledore, and we nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. 'Good. On the count of three, then ... one ... two ..."

I didn't even gear when he said three. I felt the tug at my body that I had felt the last time we had done this. As quickly as we had left, I felt my knees hit wooden floor.

'Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?" came a voice.

"OUT!" roared a second voice.

We scrambled to our feet and looked around; we had arrived in the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle. Kreacher was disappearing through the door to the hall, looking back at us creepily as he hitched up his loincloth; Sirius was hurrying towards us all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes. He smelled like Mundungus, which was a very unpleasant drunk smell.

"What's going on?" he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. "Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured-"

"Ask Harry," said Fred.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," said George.

The twins and Ginny were staring at him. Kreacher's footsteps had stopped on the stairs outside.

Harry told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes. I gave him a fleeting look, but did not speak. When Harry had finished, Fred, George and Ginny continued to stare at him for a moment.

"Is Mum here?" said Fred, turning to Sirius.

"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," said Sirius. "The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now."

"We've got to go to St. Mungo's," said Ginny urgently, now clinging to George. "Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?"

"Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St. Mungo's!" said Sirius.

"Course we can go to St. Mungo's if we want," said Fred, getting angry. "He's our dad!"

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?"

"What does that matter?" said George.

"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!" said Sirius angrily. "Have you any idea what the Ministry would make off that information?"

Fred and George looked as though they didn't give a fuck, and I didn't blame them. However, I still couldn't bring myself to speak. All I could do was think about my father.

"Somebody else could have told us, "said Ginny through her tears. "We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry.'

"Like who?" said Sirius impatiently. "Listen, your dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's-"

"We don't give a bloody fuck about the damn Order!" shouted Fred.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" yelled George.

"Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" said Sirius, equally angry. "This is how it is-this is why you're not in the Order-you don't understand-there are things worth dying for!"

"Easy for you to fucking say, stuck here!" bellowed Fred. "I don't see you risking your neck!"

The color drained from Sirius's face. He looked as if he wanted to punch Fred in the face, but instead took a deep breath and sighed.

"I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?" said Sirius in as much of an understanding voice he could muster.

Fred and George looked like they didn't want to let it go. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry and I sat down on the old sofa. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats either side of Ginny.

"That's right," said Sirius encouragingly, "come on, let's all ... let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!"

He raised his wand as he spoke and half a dozen bottles came flying towards us out of the pantry, skidded along the table, scattering the debris of Sirius's meal, and stopped neatly in front of the six of us. We all drank, and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the kitchen fire and the soft thud of our bottles on the table.

I felt as if I wanted to do everything, but couldn't think of anything. I just kept reflecting on moments with Dad.

I remembered how before Hogwarts, Dad and I used to spend hours with in his shed where he kept all his muggle trinkets. We would bond over trying to figure out what the item was for and if we could get something to work, how to tweak it for wizarding use. Dad seemed to be the only one besides Bill who understood me sometimes. And I couldn't help feeling like I didn't cherish him enough.

A burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of us, and a scroll of parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.

"Fawkes!" said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. "That's not Dumbledore's writing- it must be a message from your mother-here-"

He gave the letter to George, who ripped it open and read aloud:

Dad is still alive.

I am setting out for St. Mungo's now.

Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can.

Mum.

George looked around the table. "Still alive ..." he said slowly. "But that makes it sound ..."

He did not need to finish the sentence. I stared at the back of Mum's letter, wishing that it had note reassuring news. Fred pulled the parchment out of George's hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, his expression unreadable.

Sirius suggested that we all go to bed, but no one appeared like they wanted to. We mostly sat in silence around the table. Every now and then someone would ask the time, or wonder out loud how Dad was, but other than that, nothing.

I sat with my head in my hands, not really wanting to interact with anyone. At around five in the morning, the kitchen door swung open and Mum walked in looking extremely pale, but forced a smile.

"He's going to be all right," she said, her voice weak with tiredness. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work."

Fred fell back into his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to Mum and hugged her. I gave a small shaky laugh and knocked back the rest of my Butterbeer, relieved.

"Breakfast!" said Sirius loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. "Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!"

But Kreacher didn't show up.

"Oh, forget it, then," muttered Sirius, counting the people in front of him. "So, it's breakfast for-let's see-seven ... bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast."

"Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful, "said Mum, as she and Sirius helped prepare breakfast. "They think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer ... of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas."

"The more the merrier!" said Sirius enthusiastically.

I couldn't help but smile. Things were going to be okay.