Ginny Weasley was waiting.
In a family full of redheads, Ginny was surprisingly patient—rather like her father, actually. She waited for Christmas, hoping to finally get the dress she wanted last year. She waited for her brothers to finish playing Quidditch, just so she could fly for a bit. She waited for Luna to find galloping moonflies before collecting potion ingredients for class. She waited patiently in class because she was always the last roll to be called. She listened to six hours of gossip from Lavender Brown, learning makeup techniques. But most of all, she waited all these years for Harry Freaking Potter to show even a hint of interest. For all her efforts, it seemed she simply didn't exist in his world.
But in this moment, she was waiting for Pig, their new owl, to deliver the latest check-in letter from Harry.
It didn't.
12 hours later, the Order of the Phoenix left the headquarters.
Ronald Weasley was annoyed.
A lot of things annoyed Ron. Some things, he was sure, were created just to annoy him—like beef sandwiches. He was annoyed they had to leave the Burrow. He was annoyed that he couldn't practice Quidditch this year, especially since he wanted to join the team. He was annoyed that Fred and George had pranked him again. He was annoyed that Ginny was angry with him because of his teasing about Pig. He was annoyed that he couldn't join the Order of the Phoenix. He was annoyed Harry wasn't talking to him. He was annoyed because, even though he apologized, he still felt guilty. He was annoyed that Hermione was worried about Harry, but also annoyed because he shouldn't be annoyed that Hermione was worried. He was annoyed that Harry and Pig were missing. He was simply… annoyed.
Fred and George Weasley were experimenting.
Honestly, when they weren't… enough said.
Hermione Granger was worried.
Nail-biting, hair-pulling, cloth-shredding, I-can't-believe-my-worst-fear-came-true worried.
No book had an answer to this problem. She sat down, her heart sinking, this time truly fearing that Harry Potter was missing. Worse still, that he had left on his own.
Sirius Black was frustrated.
Frustrated that his godson was missing. Frustrated that he had to depend on others for answers once again. Frustrated that he couldn't do anything but stay silent in his frustration—yes, he was frustrated.
Lyra Black was cursing.
And that too, in French—something not at all frequent for her. She cast another irritated look at the portrait responsible for the curse and stormed out of Black Manor with haste. Meanwhile, the portrait of Arcturus Black exuded smugness.
Remus Lupin was searching.
Searching, yet finding no clues. The stench of fear—coming from the corner where the Dursleys huddled—drowned every other smell. Okay, so he had lost his temper. But he was searching, and they wouldn't let him into the house. Right now, finding Harry Potter was more important than anything else. Including unpleasant Muggles.
Nymphadora Tonks was stumbling.
Tonks was always stumbling, but this time, it was because she was in Dudley Dursley's room. She glanced toward the broken window and stumbled again.
"MERLIN!" she boomed.
Molly Weasley was huffing.
She knew nothing good would come from this. But, as always, they had ignored her. She twisted the dishcloth in her hands, worrying about Harry. Poor dear, she thought. He must be hungry and frightened by now. She prayed the Order would find him soon. Otherwise… she glanced at the crate in the corner, containing vials she had painstakingly worked on. All that effort would go to waste.
Harry Potter was whistling.
Surrey's crossroads behind him, an open starry sky ahead. He pulled his trolley. It was a pleasant night for a walk.
Albus "I Have More Letters in My Name Than Ronald Weasley Has in His Brain" Dumbledore was pacing.
He was at a loss. The culprit lay on his table—an almost empty bag of lemon drops that he had ordered yesterday. A bad omen.
A silver mist burst through his window, taking shape of a sparrow.
Harry Potter was missing.
Dumbledore was almost… annoyed.