The Refiner's Fire
Chapter 29 - Diplomacy
By Abraxan
Molly Weasley ushered the group quickly into Number 12, Grimmauld Place when they arrived, an equally anxious Hermione hovering behind her. Molly grabbed Ron desperately and held onto him for a
long time as the rest of the group moved into the sitting room so they wouldn’t set off Mrs. Black’s portrait.
"I’m OK, Mum, honest," he protested mildly, not really upset about receiving such a warm welcome.
Molly pulled back, tears in her eyes. "When I saw on the clock at home that you were in mortal peril. . . ." She stifled a sob. Reaching high above her head, she put her hands on Ron’s cheeks and just gazed at her youngest son’s beloved face.
"I’m all right. No wounds, no worries. OK?" he said, bending down to give her a warm hug, and then guiding her into the living room with the others. Ron closed the door behind them so Mrs. Black wouldn’t start screaming, then enveloped Hermione in his arms.
"I was so scared when I heard," she murmured against his shoulder.
"I’m fine, sweetie," he said, lifting her chin and kissing her gently. "It’s good to see you."
"You too," Hermione replied, wiping the tears from her eyes. Where’s Harry?"
"Remus has him," Ron whispered, bending down to her ear. "He’s a cat at the moment."
She looked up at him anxiously, knowing from his expression that something was very wrong, but afraid to ask what.
As Ron and Hermione had this quiet conversation near the door, Molly, still sniffling, looked frantically around the room at the others gathered there. "Where’s Ginny? Is she all right?"
"Right here, Mum," Ginny said, waving from behind Tonks. Ginny was trying to keep her distance from her mum. She knew she was in serious trouble, but as long as her mum was distracted enough, she might not notice Ginny, and once she’d heard the entire story, she might even forget about punishing her. At least, that was Ginny’s hope.
"You are grounded, young lady," Molly said fiercely. "Flying off who knows where without a word and leaving me to worry about you. . .and where’s your broom? That’s Harry’s, isn’t it?"
"Yes, Mum, it’s Harry’s Firebolt. My broom’s gone."
"Gone? What? That’s a brand new broom! Fred and George. . ."
"Mum!" Ginny interrupted. "I know. I’m very upset that it’s gone. I had to ride Harry’s to get home. Please, let us tell you what happened. Then you’ll understand everything. But first, we need to take care of Harry."
"Where is Harry?" Molly asked anxiously. "What happened to him? I only heard that Ron was hurt."
"He’s here," Remus said, pulling the cat out of his robes.
"That’s a cat, Remus," Molly said totally confused.
"It’s Harry. He’s an Animagus," Remus explained calmly.
"No! Really?" She leaned over the cat to look at him. "This is Harry? Well, he looks a bit peaky to me," she said as she petted the handsome black cat lying limply in Remus’s arms. It arched its neck and purred a bit in response to her touch, then went back to sleep. "What’s wrong with him?"
"Long story. He should be fine soon. He just needs some rest," Remus said. "I imagine one of my mineral salt baths will do wonders for his sore muscles. . ." he mused to himself.
"Sore muscles?" Molly asked, bewildered.
Snapped out of his reverie by Molly’s comment, Remus explained, "He fell a long way before Ginny caught him. He’s got to be sore all over."
"Ginny caught him? What?" Molly said, her eyes wide. "Little Ginny caught Harry, big as he is? Or was he a cat? What did he fall off?"
"Sweetheart, it’s a very long and involved story," Arthur said, pulling her into his arms. "I promise we’ll tell you everything, but first, we need to take care of Harry, and we’re all a bit knackered." He leaned down and kissed her. "Oh, Charlie sends his love, by the way."
"I wish I could have seen him," she fretted. "Oh, Arthur, I’ve been so worried, and then Ginny left, and the clock said all three of you, and Harry, were in mortal danger, and . . . ." She buried her face in her husband’s shoulder for a moment, relieved to have her family back and whole once more. "Are you all right, luv?"
"Yes, sweet Molly, I’m fine," Arthur assured her, tucking her head into his shoulder and rocking her in his arms. "I’m sorry we worried you so."
"If you lot are all right, I’d better pop over to the Ministry and file a report," Tonks said. "I’ll see you later."
"Bye, Tonks! Thanks for everything!" the others called quietly from the living room as she left.
"Harry Potter, sir!" a voice called brightly from the hallway. "Is you here? I heard your name, sir!" Dobby knocked briefly, then opened the door and raced into the living room when his voice made Mrs. Black scream. He stood quivering in fright.
"Blood traitors! Half-blood filth! Mudbloods! In the house of my fathers! And why is the Malfoy’s house elf in my house? Where’s Kreacher?" she shrieked.
Dobby’s ears drooped and his shoulders sagged. "Dobby is sorry. He is not used to Mrs. Black’s portrait yet," he muttered, bowing himself out of the room and forcing the curtains closed across the portrait.
"Dobby!" Ron called. "Harry’s in here. Come back."
"Where is my master?" Dobby said, trotting into the room and looking around.
"You’ll see," Ron said with a grin. He glanced down at Hermione, wondering how much she knew about why Dobby was in Harry’s house. From her stormy expression, he suspected she knew at least enough to make her furious.
Remus had put the cat on the couch, where it stretched and yawned, then slowly blinked its large bright green eyes.
"Oh, it has Harry’s eyes!" Molly said as she sat next to the cat, stroking his lustrous fur.
"And a trace of his scar, see above his right eye?" Ginny pointed out.
"I didn’t know he was an Animagus," Molly murmured, still petting the cat. "That’s simply brilliant!"
"We have loads to tell you, Mum," Ron said, "but you’ll need to move. When Harry transforms, he’ll take up the whole couch."
"Oh, that’s right!" Molly said with a chuckle, standing up and giving the cat a final pat. "Well, let’s see then."
The cat rapidly grew longer and heavier, its paws developing the shapes of hands and feet as the fur receded. Suddenly, there was Harry lying on the couch, wearing three sweaters of varying sizes, all of which were too small through the shoulders and chest for him, and dirty, ragged jeans and trainers. His face was pale, his eyes weary, his hair messier than usual.
"You do look peaky," Molly commented, running her hand gently over his forehead to check for fever. "Are you hungry?"
"Yeah, I could eat," Harry said with a weary smile as he sat up. "Hi, Mrs. Weasley, Hermione. I’m sorry we upset you."
"Don’t you worry about that, Harry, dear. It wasn’t your fault, I’m sure," she said as she started toward the kitchen.
"Dobby will be happy to bring food to Master and his friends," the house elf said.
Molly stopped moving when the elf spoke up. She and Dobby were still trying to sort out kitchen duties.
"Hi, Dobby!" Harry said, grinning tiredly at the elf. "Good to see you."
"Dobby is thanking Master for giving Dobby the chance to serve him," Dobby said with a bow so low, his nose touched the floor. "Dobby is honoured to serve the noble House of Potter."
"All right, Dobby, stop that," Harry ordered, but his tone was affectionate, not gruff.
Dobby looked up, wringing his hands, looking distressed. "Stop what, Master?"
"Here are the house rules, Dobby. You will not call me ‘Master.’ You won’t call anyone ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress,’ for that matter. We’re your friends, Dobby. This enslavement thing is in name only. I only agreed to let you work for me to keep you out of jail. I’ll give you clothes, wages, holidays, whatever you want, whatever will keep you happy," he said, leaning down to look the house elf in the eye. "You did me a great service, Dobby. You did what you could to protect me. Thank you."
Dobby burst into tears, pulling up the hem of the tea towel he was wearing to cover his face as he sobbed. "Oh, Master is too kind to Dobby. . ."
"What did I say about calling me ‘Master’? That’s an order, Dobby. You will not call me or anyone else ‘Master.’ Got it?"
Dobby looked at Harry with shining eyes. "Yes, sir. What would you like to be called, sir?"
"My name is Harry. That seems to work just fine, doesn’t it?" Harry said with a smile.
"Harry Potter is too kind, too just, too wonderful. . ." Dobby cried, skipping a little in delight.
"I do have my moments, I suppose," Harry said, laughing at the elf’s antics. "We’re friends, Dobby. I will appreciate your keeping the house in order and cooking — you can earn your keep the way you always have. We’ll sort out wages and holidays later. And I don’t want you wearing tea towels. What would you like to wear?"
"What would Dobby like?" he asked in amazement. Dobby looked at the group around Harry. "Harry Potter asked Dobby what he would like to wear!"
"Yes, I did. You don’t have to answer me right now, but if you want to wear what you wore at Hogwarts, that’s fine with me."
"Thank you! Thank you, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby was beside himself with excitement. "Dobby can wear socks?"
"Yes, socks are fine," Harry said with a grin.
Dobby stood still a moment, his face wreathed in smiles, relishing his good fortune. Suddenly, he shook his head, his large bat-like ears flapping. "Oh, Dobby is a bad house elf! Harry Potter said he was hungry!" He started to bang his head on the table.
"Dobby! No punishing yourself, either! That’s an order!" Harry said seriously.
Dobby straightened up uncertainly. "No?"
"No."
Dobby wrung his hands anxiously for a moment, then straightened and looked at Harry earnestly. "Dobby needs to get food for Mas-. . .for Harry Potter. What would you like to eat, Harry Potter, sir?"
Harry smiled. "Well done, Dobby. You’ll get used to not calling people ‘Master’ before too long. And I’ll eat anything you put in front of me."
"Yes, Harry Potter, sir! Thank you, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby called as he ran back toward the kitchen.
"Well done, Harry," Remus said, patting his godson on the shoulder. "You handled that beautifully."
Harry shrugged. "I just tried to do the right thing," he murmured. "I don’t want Dobby to be my slave."
"You did do the right thing, Harry," Hermione said, tears in her eyes. "Dobby is so lucky to have you. If he’s got to be a slave, at least you won’t treat him like one."
"I don’t want him as a slave, but there wasn’t any way around it," Harry said with a shrug.
"Thanks for being you, Harry," Hermione said, leaning over the back of the couch and hugging him, then kissing him on the cheek. Harry just blushed, not certain what to say.
"Did you get much studying done?" Ron asked her as she straightened up.
"Not really. Professor Dumbledore told me about the attack when you were in France, and let me come here to wait for your return," she said, the strain of the last few days plain on her face. "Mrs. Weasley and I have been driving each other and Dobby mad with worry."
"Everything’s OK now, sweetie," Ron said, his eyes shining with love for her. He pulled her into an embrace and rested his cheek on her curly hair, glad to have her back in his arms.
"Mrs. Weasley, have you heard anything about Professor Snape?" Harry asked, a worry line appearing between his eyebrows.
"No, dear. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing," Harry replied, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his head dropped low.
"Was he at school when you left?" Ron asked Hermione.
"No. What’s going on?" she replied.
"What’s wrong?" Molly asked her husband.
"Harry had a vision. Snape was being tortured by You-Know-Who," Arthur replied.
"USE HIS NAME!" Harry snapped, sitting up suddenly, his eyes flashing with rage. The glass in the windows rattled in reaction to the waves of anger coming off of him.
"All right, Harry. V-Voldemort," Arthur said with a shudder.
"Dumbledore says fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself. Use his name. It will help you get over your fear," Harry barked, manfully doing his best to master his temper.
"I’ve seen him in person for the first time now, Harry," Arthur said, tense but quiet. "I don’t know that anything will help my fear of him." He and Harry stared at each other for a while, then both relaxed.
"You did fine up there, Mr. Weasley. As long as you can function, fear isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But please, use his name. If he becomes ordinary to you, he’ll be easier to fight."
"Is he ordinary to you, Harry?" Arthur asked earnestly.
"He’s been a part of my life forever. Even before I knew I was a wizard, I had dreams of green light and people screaming. That was my parents dying. He’s an evil git and needs to be destroyed. I will kill him if it’s the last thing I do," Harry said with grim determination. "But you’re welcome to kill him if you get to him first," he added with an attempt at a wry smile.
"Erm. . .thank you, I think," Arthur replied, trying to smile at the grim-faced boy.
Molly had stood in stunned silence during this whole exchange. Timidly, she asked, "What are you two talking about?"
"Sweet Molly, I promise to tell you everything later. Harry has been through enough. He doesn’t need to relive it again. I’ll tell you while he’s resting," Arthur assured her.
Dawning awareness crossed Molly’s face, closely followed by horror. "You. . .saw. . .?"
"Yes."
"Were my children there?"
"Yes."
Molly sat down with a ‘thump’ in a nearby chair. Arthur, Ron, Ginny and Hermione surrounded her, trying to comfort her. She wasn’t crying. She was beyond crying. Her expression was vacant, yet shocked beyond belief. "You lot. . .you all. . .saw him?"
"Yes," Arthur replied quietly. "Dumbledore didn’t tell you anything?"
"No," she said with a shake of her head. "You fought him?"
"Harry fought him. We were fighting Death Eaters."
"Actually, Ginny fought him too, hand to hand, and she insulted him, too, right to his face. She was brilliant! Wish I’d seen it," Ron commented with a grin.
"WHAT?" Molly cried. Hermione stood in stunned silence, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide as she looked from Ron to Ginny.
"Ron, be quiet. This isn’t the time," Ginny snapped. She put her arm around her mother’s back and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Mum, please. Look at Harry."
Molly looked over at the boy, who had his hands locked tightly in his hair and was rocking in misery, his body shuddering in spasms of grief. Remus was doing his best to comfort him.
"We can’t do this in front of Harry, Mum," Ginny said quietly. "We’re all fine. He needs to rest. Please, don’t do this here."
Molly nodded mutely. "You will tell me everything. Every single bleeding thing," she said in a low urgent voice.
"Yes. Everything," Ginny promised.
"All right then," Molly agreed. She took several deep, calming breaths, then moved to sit beside Harry, putting her hand gently on his back. "I’m sorry, Harry. I should have behaved better."
"Not your fault. My fault," Harry muttered, not raising his head.
"Harry, we’ve been through this before. None of this is your fault," Remus reminded him.
Harry looked up at him, and the sight of his face broke the hearts of his friends. He was bereft, heartbroken, anguished, guilt-ridden. He’d just started to heal a bit, and now he was back to where he’d been when they were still in France.
Remus pulled the boy’s head down to his shoulder and rocked him, rubbing his back gently. "It’s all right, Harry. We’re all fine. You were magnificent out there. You did nothing wrong. It’s Voldemort’s fault, not yours. Remember that."
Harry was still a moment, then nodded. "Voldemort’s fault," he said in a hard voice.
"Yes, Harry. Voldemort’s fault," Remus said as Harry sat up and looked at him.
Harry scrubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands. "Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about, lad," Remus said kindly.
Harry gazed into his godfather’s eyes a long moment, then said, "Thanks."
"Always happy to help you, Harry," Remus said.
Hermione was still speechless. She moved into Ron’s arms and held him tightly, too stunned to bother with crying. When she caught her breath, she turned her head and watched the others from the comfort of his embrace.
Molly sat wringing her hands, not knowing what to do to make things better. She was rarely at such a loss. She looked up quickly when Harry turned to her.
"I’m sorry for getting your family in danger, Mrs. Weasley. I honestly didn’t mean to," Harry said quietly.
"I’m not blaming you, dear. It was just a shock. I’m sorry I reacted so badly," she said, trying hard not to start crying again. She touched Harry’s cheek softly. "You’re such a dear boy. I wish your life was easier. You deserve better."
"Thank you," he said with a slight blush.
Molly slipped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. "Anything you need, anything at all, you let me know," she said as she released him. "You need food and rest and that hot bath Remus was talking about," she added briskly, forcing herself back in "Mum" mode again. "And your clothes look a fright! Do you have some more clothes upstairs?"
"Yes."
"If you need other things, I’m sure Ron or the twins have extra clothing in the house somewhere, or I can pop over to The Burrow to bring some things for you," she offered earnestly.
"I’m fine. I have extra things upstairs. Thank you."
Dobby arrived just then with enough food for everyone, and they sat and talked about inconsequential things as they ate. When they were done, Remus asked Dobby to draw a hot bath for Harry.
"Yes, Professor Lupin," Dobby replied, and started to leave the room.
"And Dobby," Remus added, "in my room, you’ll find a small blue jar on the shelf near the door. It has mineral salts in it. Put two pinches in the tub under the tap while the water is running. Those salts should help Harry’s aching muscles."
"Yes, sir," Dobby said, then ran up the stairs to do what he’d been told.
"A hot bath sounds awfully good," Harry said, rolling his shoulders to loosen his muscles. Ginny walked behind him and started massaging his shoulders. "Oooooooh, that feels so good," he moaned, relaxing into her hands, his eyes closed in pleasure.
"You’re all tied up in knots," Ginny muttered. "No wonder you’re sore."
"I suspect it had to do with tumbling several hundred feet with his wings being pulled in all directions by the wind," Arthur said, gazing in awe at Harry.
"Wings?" Molly said, her eyes wide in shock.
"We do have a lot to tell you," Arthur said. "Come into the kitchen and I’ll get started," he said, extending a hand to his wife. "You lot," he told his children, "when Harry goes up for his bath, you join us to make certain I don’t leave anything out. Your mother has a right to know what happened."
"OK, Dad," Ron and Ginny agreed.
Upstairs, Remus helped Harry fight his way out of the too-small sweaters and his ripped, dirty jeans and get into a dressing gown. Harry rummaged around in his wardrobe and came up with a clean shirt, sweater, underwear, socks and jeans to put on after his bath, shoved his bare feet into his filthy trainers, then went into the bathroom, which was steamy from the hot water. Dobby was laying out fresh towels when they entered.
"Oh, that smells good," Harry commented as he breathed in the steam. "What is it?" he asked his godfather.
"I use these mineral salts to soak my sore muscles after the full moon," he commented quietly. "With all the running I do then if I’m not confined, well . . . you can imagine how sore I am the next day. The scent is sandalwood. You can get these salts with various scents. This is the one I prefer."
"I like it a lot," Harry said, kicking off his trainers. Dobby quickly grabbed Harry’s shoes and put them outside the door.
"Why’d you do that, Dobby?" Harry asked, curious.
"Dobby will clean them for you, sir. They’ll be ready when you finish your bath."
Harry smiled. "Thanks!"
"It is Dobby’s honour, sir," the elf said, bowing so low his nose touched the ground.
"Dobby, here’s another house rule. No bowing!" Harry said with a laugh.
"Yes, sir," Dobby said, starting to bow, then straightening up and smiling at Harry. "Thank you, sir!"
"Will you need help getting into the tub, Harry?" Remus asked.
Harry thought a moment, moving around, trying his muscles to see how stiff he really was, then said, "I think I can manage, thanks."
"Call me if you need help getting out," Remus said as he and Dobby left the bathroom.
"I will," Harry replied. He closed the door and took off his dressing gown, hanging it neatly on the hook behind the door. He slipped off his underwear, dropped it on the floor, laid his glasses on the shelf above the toilet, then stepped carefully into the hot, fragrant water. Every muscle in his body felt sore, so he eased his body down until even his ear lobes and chin were underwater. He sat quietly, thinking of nothing, letting the mineral salts do their work, feeling his muscles relax one by one. With his head resting against the back of the tub, Harry watched his hands float and then made them sink with the least effort of his muscles. Then he watched his long skinny toes poke out of the water a moment, wiggling at him, then sink out of sight again. His knobbly knees rose out of the water from time to time as he moved around, extending and bending his legs to work out the kinks in his muscles. Flapping his hands gently, he made ripples that flashed softly when they caught the light. He hadn’t spent such a luxurious time in a bath since he’d used the Prefect’s bathroom to work out his golden egg clue in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It was a wonderful thing, relaxing in a bath. He didn’t know why he didn’t do it more often.
Finally, he ducked his head under the water, feeling bubbles rolling around in his ears, and his hair floating around his head in a soft black cloud. He sat up and grabbed the shampoo, soap and a flannel and set about actually bathing rather than just soaking. He made his beard go away so he could scrub his face really well. When he was rinsed, towelled dry and dressed in clean clothes, he almost felt like a new man. Feeling more cheerful and relaxed than he had in days, he pulled on his well-cleaned trainers and bounded down the stairs, remembering halfway down to grow his beard to keep Ginny happy. He found the others in the kitchen.
"Wow, you look great!" Ginny said, running to hug him. "Umm, you smell good too," she murmured against his chest.
"Sandalwood. It’s in the bath salts Remus let me use. Nice, huh?" Harry grinned and hugged her happily.
"Yeah."
"Looks like those salts did you a world of good, Harry," Remus said.
"Thank you for letting me use them. I feel wonderful now!" Harry said, plopping into a chair next to Ron and pulling Ginny into his lap. "What do we have to eat?"
"Are you hungry again?" Molly teased. "Growing boys, I tell you. They’ll eat all the time if you let them." She chuckled and started to get up to get him some food, but Dobby had beaten her to it. A heavily laden tray seemed to be coming toward the table under its own power. They had to look beneath it to see Dobby’s feet hurrying along.
"Here you is, sir. What else can Dobby bring you?"
"This looks fantastic, Dobby, thanks! I’m starved." Ginny got off Harry’s lap and sat in the chair beside him so he could eat more easily. "And thanks for cleaning my trainers, mate. They look great. They even feel better!"
"They had sand and stones and weeds in them, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby cleaned them inside and out."
Harry smiled warmly at the earnest house elf. "Thanks. You did a good job, Dobby."
Dobby glowed under Harry’s praise, then went back to work at the sink.
Hermione sat beside Ron, her fingers twining in his hair when he sat still long enough, or gently caressing his back. She seemed to need to be in constant contact with him. He accepted her attention with pleasure.
"Feels good, sweetie," he said as he leaned over and kissed her temple.
Tears sparkled on her eyelashes. "I was so worried. . ." she murmured. "I wish I could have been there to help you."
"I’m glad I didn’t have to worry about you," he whispered back, "but I could have done with some of those excellent hexes of yours, come to think of it." He smiled at her tenderly, then took another bite of his food and sighed contentedly.
As Harry and Ron tucked into the food Dobby had provided, Dumbledore strode into the kitchen. "Ah, Harry! You look better than I expected. I was worried when I got Remus’s message." Dumbledore sat down across from Harry and inspected him over his half-moon spectacles.
"I’m fine," Harry replied, taking another bite of his sandwich. "Have you heard anything about Professor Snape?"
"He’s recovering. Some of our operatives went undercover and brought him back to Hogwarts. Your vision about him being tortured came in good time. Voldemort hadn’t quite finished with him, but our operatives found a way to distract him and remove Professor Snape before he could do more damage to him."
"Will he be all right?" Harry asked, his face very concerned.
"Yes, Harry, he’ll be fine."
Harry leaned back in his chair looking relieved. "Good."
"Molly, Miss Granger, have they told you everything?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes, I think so," Molly replied as Hermione nodded. "It must have been horrible for them."
"It was," Dumbledore replied. "Dobby? How are you doing working for Harry?"
"Brilliantly, sir! Dobby is very happy, very honoured to serve the noble House of Potter."
Harry snorted with laughter. "Dobby, the House of Potter only includes one person! That’s just silly, saying ‘House of Potter.’"
"Whether it’s one person or many, Dobby is honoured to serve it," the elf said with dignity.
Harry looked at Dobby fondly. "And I’m glad you’re here. Sorry for giving you a hard time. It’s going to take me a while to get used to you working for me, I suppose." He smiled at the elf, who looked at Harry with tremendous devotion.
Dobby’s face glowed. "Harry Potter treats Dobby ever so well. Dobby is very happy here. Shall Dobby bring tea for your guest?"
"My guest?"
"Professor Dumbledore?"
"Oh! Right." Harry chuckled. "I’ve never had to think of myself as a host before. Sorry, Professor. Would you like some tea?"
"That would be lovely, Harry," Dumbledore said, chuckling. "It looks as if you and Dobby are working things out well between you."
"I think it will work out fine, once I get used to him wanting to wait on me all the time. That’s a bit odd for me. But it’s nice, too."
"Yes, it is. I’m so glad this situation worked out." Dumbledore smiled as he watched the house elf working busily at the stove. "Now, Harry, we need to talk."
"Do you want us to leave?" Arthur offered.
"No, no, you’re fine. I do need to ask Dobby something, though," Dumbledore replied.
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?" Dobby said as he set the tea things down in front of the old wizard.
"Dobby, I believe you are very loyal to Harry, aren’t you?"
"Oh, yes, sir!"
"Right. I need you to promise me that you’ll protect Harry’s secrets and other secrets you will hear in this house and other places you may go with Harry. It is of the utmost importance that you do this. Will you promise?"
Dobby stood straight and as tall as he could manage. "Dobby will die to defend the honour of the House of Potter. Dobby will die before revealing secrets of Harry Potter or his friends."
"Promising is good enough, Dobby, but that will do admirably. Thank you." Dumbledore turned to Harry. "The Ministries of Britain and France are on the brink of war over this incident. I need you to come with me to a meeting."
"And do what?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Answer questions, present evidence, that kind of thing. You are not in any kind of trouble, nor are any of your friends. I don’t want you to worry about that. The problem is political. I will do my best to resolve those issues with both Ministries, but having your testimony will go a long way to resolving the problems."
"When do you need me to go to this meeting?"
"Right now. I’m glad to see you looking so refreshed." He glanced around at the others, all of whom were still in their torn, dirty travelling clothes. "I see they gave you the first turn in the bathroom, eh?" he said, laughing.
"Yeah, I was pretty grubby," Harry replied.
"And he was sore. Remus’s mineral salts and a hot bath did wonders for him," Molly offered. "The boy has been through so many awful things at once. Can’t he rest a day or two, Albus? And why are they meeting so late in the day? It’s nearly tea-time."
"They’ve been meeting all day, simply going in circles and fighting, getting nothing accomplished. They need to hear Harry’s story, directly from him, to resolve some issues. That’s why we have to go right now — we need to avert an international crisis. Harry, when you’ve finished eating, we’ll go, all right?"
"OK," Harry said, taking a last swig of butterbeer and swallowing his last bite of food. "Dobby, that was great. Thanks!"
"Dobby is happy to please you, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby said, starting to bow, and then remembering Harry’s rules just in time. He and Harry grinned at each other.
"You’re learning," Harry complimented him.
As Harry and Dumbledore prepared to Apparate to the Ministry, Harry turned serious eyes on his headmaster. "Professor, I need to ask you something."
"Yes?"
"I did Unforgiveable Curses during the battle. Remus told me I shouldn’t be in trouble for it, that if you didn’t want me to learn those things, you would have taken the books away. He thinks you can keep me out of trouble, but we’re going to meet both of the Minstries now. Am I in trouble?"
"No, dear boy, you’re not in trouble," Dumbledore assured him.
"How can that be? It’s not legal for underage wizards — "
"Were you the only one casting them?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"No, of course not. It seems to be the favourite spell of many of the Death Eaters," Harry replied seriously.
"And there were so many spells flying up there, Remus told me they overlapped, making walls of spell fire at time, correct?"
"Yes."
"Then neither government has any idea who cast which particular spells, although they could tell that underage wizards were doing magic outside of school. You’re safe. Don’t worry about it anymore. And if anyone were ever to try to press charges against you — well, you leave that to me."
"What can you do about it?" Harry asked, still concerned.
"I wrote a great many of our laws myself," Dumbledore replied quietly, "and I built in loopholes for just such contingencies. And I know how to use those loopholes. So stop worrying, Harry. You have enough grey hair for now," he teased, chuckling softly. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Speaking of that. . .that beard is very becoming, Harry, and I know Miss Weasley likes it, but for this hearing, clean-shaven is best. They need to understand how young you are, as well as the facts of the case. With that beard, you look far older than your years."
"No problem, Professor," Harry agreed, then grinned as his beard disappeared.
"Well done," the headmaster said. "You may bring it back when we return. I imagine Miss Weasley will insist on it."
"I’m sure she will," Harry said with a smile.
* * * * *
At the Ministry of Magic, Harry and Dumbledore entered a room full of heated arguments flying in every direction. They stopped and stood inside the door, Dumbledore with a sad expression, Harry looking nervous. Amelia Bones, the new Minister of Magic, noticed them. Fudge had been summarily dismissed after Voldemort’s return, due to Fudge’s insistence that Dumbledore and Harry were crazy and Voldemort couldn’t possibly be back, when he’d been back for a year. Fudge had left the country in disgrace.
"Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Potter, at last! Please come in and sit down," she said kindly. She adjusted her monocle and smiled at him, then got the attention of the rest of the attendees by shooting purple stars out of her wand. "Please, delegates, settle down. Our witness has just joined us. I’m sure we’d all like to hear from him." She gestured toward Harry.
Dumbledore whispered, "Stand up," to Harry as Madam Bones introduced him.
"I’m certain all of you have heard of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. This is Mr. Potter in the flesh. Everything you’ve heard about him is true. He did defeat You-Know-Who when he was just a year old. He has faced this evil wizard and his Death Eaters numerous times since then, and he’s just a schoolboy. How old are you now, Mr. Potter?"
"Erm. . ." Nervous, Harry had to stop and clear his throat. "Sixteen."
"Sixteen!" she cried. "And what year are you at Hogwarts?"
"Sixth year."
Madam Bones gazed at him with admiration. "Look at this young man," she said. "Look at him. Not even finished with Hogwarts, but he’s faced more battles than most of us will ever see in our lifetimes! He truly is a hero of the Wizarding world. He has recently been recommended for the Order of Merlin, Second Class. From what I’ve seen of the recommendation, it should fly through the approval process with no problem whatsoever. He will be the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin in British history." She looked at the French delegation, almost daring them to disparage Harry’s reputation. They glared back at her but remained silent.
"Sit down, now, Harry," Dumbledore whispered. Harry sat, grateful to be allowed to do so.
"Mr. Potter," Madam Bones said, "Would you please tell us about the events leading up to and including the recent battle you were in which took place in France?"
"Uh. . ." Harry looked around nervously, then noticed a pitcher of water and some goblets on the table in front of him. "May I have a drink of water, please?"
"Certainly," Madam Bones said graciously.
"Thanks." Harry gulped down an entire glass of water, then steeled himself for what he had to do. "Professor Dumbledore was in touch with Charlie Weasley and learned they needed some new bloodlines for their hippogriffs in Rumania," he began. "The hippogriffs over there are an endangered species and their gene pool is too small, so they’re becoming inbred. I get on well with hippogriffs and love to fly, so Professor Dumbledore asked me to fly a male hippogriff from the Hogwarts herd over to Rumania for him. I asked my friend Ron Weasley to go along, since Charlie’s his brother and we thought it would be fun to visit him." Harry went on to tell about the attack on them at their first landing site, Ron’s injuries and Harry’s response. "I didn’t mean to blow things up," he said apologetically. "I wasn’t thinking of a specific spell, because Ron was hurt and falling off the hippogriff, and the hippogriff was injured and I was trying to keep all of us in the air safely while stopping the attack. So I shot a big spell at them, not really concentrating on it because of all the other things I was dealing with, and I blew a hole in the ground."
"And what happened to the three wizards who attacked you?" Madam Bones prompted.
"I suppose they’re dead. Someone checked the site later and found no human remains, so either they escaped or they got blown up. I just don’t know which."
"See? See? Zis ‘arry Pottaire, ’e is a careless wizard!" one of the French delegates shouted, pounding his fist on the table. "’e did not check to see if any French citizens were injured. ’e damaged valuable woodlands wiz ’is ’ole in the ground. ’e is irresponsible, careless, a menace! ’e attacked Frenchmen!"
Harry’s jaw dropped. He attacked Frenchmen? Where? "Sorry? What Frenchmen?" he asked as politely as he could manage.
"You do not know who you attacked, zerefore you probably attacked Frenchmen!" the man cried.
"They were speaking English, with British accents, and I didn’t hear any French accents at all," Harry snapped, suddenly quite irritated with this officious, odious little man.
"Still, you do not know who it was you attacked," the man blustered.
"They attacked us first! What were we supposed to do? They attacked with no warning, no questions, nothing! They just tried to shoot us out of the sky!" Harry retorted, his temper flaring. Dumbledore put a calming hand on Harry’s arm, and the boy subsided.
Madam Bones shot purple stars out of her wand again to restore order. "That’s enough. There will be no more outbursts," she declared. "We will hear Mr. Potter’s testimony in full, and then we will ask him questions in a civilized manner." She glared around at the delegates to the meeting. There was no response except for returned glares. "Mr. Potter, if you would, please continue your story."
Harry took a deep breath and started telling about having to take care of Ron and the hippogriff, and sending word home that they needed help.
"How did you send word that you needed help, Mr. Potter?" Madam Bones asked.
"Professor Dumbledore taught me how to send Adfero messages earlier this year. That’s what I did," he replied honestly.
"You sent an Adfero across the entire country of France, across the English Channel and all the way up to Hogwarts?" she asked in disbelief.
"Yes," Harry replied, surprised at her reaction. He looked at Dumbledore uncertainly. Had he said something wrong?
"You’re doing fine, dear boy," Dumbledore encouraged him quietly. "Go on."
Before he could say another word, Madam Bones addressed the delegates. "I happen to know that this young wizard is possessed of remarkable powers," she began. Harry looked at Dumbledore nervously — what was she going to say? "When he was thirteen, he could do a corporeal Patronus. I asked him about sending an Adfero over such a distance because I know most wizards cannot send them that far. But most adult wizards cannot produce a corporeal Patronus at all, which he was doing at the age of thirteen. I believe he’s just become a registered Animagus, as well. Is this correct, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes."
"What is your Animagus form?"
"A cat."
"Could you show us, please?"
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, saw him nod, and then changed into the cat, making certain not to do it too quickly. He was supposed to keep the level of his Animagus skills somewhat secret, after all. The cat jumped from the chair to the table top so everyone could see him, then jumped back to the chair and changed into Harry again.
"Well done, Mr. Potter!" Madam Bones said approvingly. "You are now the eighth registered Animagus in this century. Congratulations. This Animagus ability and the Adfero skill are just more testaments to Mr. Potter’s abilities. I don’t know about you, but I’m glad he’s on our side." She smiled at Harry and said, "Forgive my interruption. Please, go ahead with your story."
Harry nodded, then told them about the battle. He didn’t leave anything out. His voice shook when he talked about Ginny being shot down in the first place, then thrown over the cliff twice. During this part, he heard a gasp from the corner. There was Percy Weasley, acting as Madam Bones’s clerk. He was the one who gasped to hear about Ginny being attacked, and then thrown off the cliff.
"Did she survive?"
"Yes."
"How did she manage to survive?"
"I sent her broom to her the first time, then jumped in after her the second time."
"Sorry? Tell me in detail how you saved her. I don’t quite understand," Madam Bones asked.
"Which time?"
"Both."
"Oh. Um. The first time, I did a Banishing charm on her broom and sent it down to her. She caught it and flew back up, I tossed her wand up to her and she rejoined the battle until her broom was shot out from under her. The second time, I jumped off the cliff after her. Her broom was destroyed, so I couldn’t send it after her."
"She caught a flying broom while she was falling off a cliff?" Madam Bones looked sceptical.
"She played Seeker on Gryffindor’s Quidditch team last year, and this year she’s playing Chaser. She’s good at catching things."
"And you jumped off the cliff yourself? How high was it?"
"I don’t know, maybe a hundred and fifty feet or so," he said with a shrug.
"You jumped off a cliff that high and survived? How did you manage that?"
"It’s a deep lake. And I did an Aresto Momentum Charm as I was falling to soften my landing. I put a shield above me because of spells and rocks that were coming down at me. I did a partial transfiguration to grow gills and fins so I could swim down to her safely. That was all." He shrugged again. "Apparently she did an Aresto Momentum as she fell, because she wasn’t badly injured by the fall. She also managed a partial Bubblehead Charm, but it didn’t cover her mouth."
Madam Bones’s monocle fell from her eye as she raised her eyebrows in amazement. "How was she when you found her?"
"She wasn’t breathing. She was blue. . .and . . . so still." Harry had to stop and rein in his feelings. "I worked on her for quite a while before she started breathing again."
"Worked on her how?"
"Muggle methods of getting someone to breathe again after drowning. I learned it in school when I was little."
Madam Bones could see Harry was fighting to control his emotions. "How is she now, Mr. Potter?" she said in a kind voice.
"She’s fine. She’s home now."
"I’m glad to hear that. After that, you went back to the battle again?"
"Yes. It wasn’t over, you see. Ginny fought again as well, and when we got back to the top of the cliff, Ron had come up and joined the fight too."
"How did you get to the top of the cliff?"
"Madam Bones," Dumbledore interrupted, "as you can well imagine, this experience is still very fresh and painful for Harry. Could we please allow him to summarize the battle and let him go home and rest? He’s been through a tremendous ordeal."
"Yes, of course, you’re right, Albus. My apologies. All right, Mr. Potter, tell us the rest of the story."
Harry finished his tale and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been honest, but managed to keep his other Animagus forms secret, thanks to Dumbledore’s timely intervention when Madam Bones was trying to find out how he scaled a huge cliff with enough energy left over to fight again. He didn’t think there had been other slips during his testimony.
"So, Mr. Potter. Were there French wizards among those you identified?" Madam Bones asked.
"Not to my knowledge, no. I didn’t complete the list of the dead, though. Ron and his dad, Arthur Weasley, finished the job for me. I didn’t look at the list again once I handed it to them. None of those who went to Azkaban were French."
"We have a copy of that list here, correct?" Madam Bones said, looking at Percy. Harry smiled uncertainly at Percy, hoping for a friendly response. Percy kept his eyes on his parchment, never looking at Harry once, never making a sound except the gasp when he heard about Ginny’s life being endangered. Harry sighed, sad that Percy was still distant from his family and old friends.
"Yes, we have a copy, and I’ve made enough copies for all the delegates. They were passed around just before the witnesses arrived," Percy said pompously.
"Very good, Mr. Weasley." She turned her attention to the delegates. "I will now entertain questions from the floor — questions, not diatribes or personal accusations of any kind. This young man is not on trial and has done nothing wrong according to a great many reputable witnesses."
The delegates from each country conferred among themselves for a while, then a British delegate raised his hand. Madam Bones called on him.
"Yes. I would like to know what Mr. Potter did to earn the nomination for the Order of Merlin, Second Class," he said importantly. He smiled broadly at Harry then sat down.
Dumbledore put his hand on Harry’s arm. "Since I’m the one who nominated him, I will answer. You’ve heard Harry’s story. He was truthful but modest. His return to the battle after saving Miss Weasley is what turned the battle in our favour. Until that point, from what I’m told by two trained Aurors who were there, our people were badly outnumbered and were being defeated. Harry’s return, along with Miss Ginny Weasley and Mr. Ron Weasley joining the battle at that moment, made the battle a decisive victory. Four adults and three students fought off a tremendous enemy force as well as Voldemort himself."
Dumbledore looked at the assembled bureaucrats. "How long has it been since any of you have done actual battle with a dark wizard? Were any of you in the previous war with Voldemort? Harry has risen to the occasion whenever he’s had to, and he’s always put the safety of others before his own safety. He saved Miss Weasley’s life twice that day, and from what I’ve heard, he also saved the life of Ron Weasley during the battle, as well as during the attack when the boys were flying the hippogriff. Harry saved the life of Auror Nymphadora Tonks, who was falling while being attacked by three Death Eaters. He saved the life of Remus Lupin, as well, when he was overpowered by the enemy. Harry also gave medical care to Ron Weasley and the hippogriff, as well as helping to care for others who were injured, without stopping to care for his own injuries, and while refusing to have his own injuries treated. He put everyone before himself. Harry has earned this nomination for the Order of Merlin, Second Class, and the others involved have undeniably earned their nominations for medals. I stand behind my nominations."
"Who trained these students to fight this way?" someone shouted angrily.
"Order! Order!" Madam Bones cried, standing and glaring angrily around, her wand at the ready. "If you have a question, raise your hand and be called on."
That person raised his hand and was called on, and then he repeated his question.
"These students are among our best Defence Against the Dark Arts students at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said proudly. "Harry, here, has the highest marks in that class that Hogwarts has ever seen. He has remarkable skills and a tremendous natural talent for defence spells. We also have a Defence Against the Dark Arts club, which Harry and Professor Lupin lead. Those students with a serious interest in defensive spells can polish their skills and learn more spells in this club. Both Ron and Ginny Weasley are part of that club. They help Harry lead it."
"Doesn’t ‘D.A.’ stand for Dumbledore’s Army?" that same man asked aggressively. "Aren’t you creating your own armed forces to take over the Ministry?"
"Ah, you’ve been listening to Dolores Umbridge, I see, or possibly Cornelius Fudge," Dumbledore said with a beatific smile. "Yes, the club is called ‘Dumbledore’s Army,’ and I’m quite proud of them. This next generation of wizards will not be as easily overtaken as the previous one, mainly because of the extra effort they are putting into learning how to fight, and fight well." His face hardened and he leaned forward as he spoke in decisive tones. "We are at war, ladies and gentlemen. These children have accepted that fact and are doing what they can to protect their homes and families. What are you doing to win this war? This hearing is a waste of precious time, and of Harry’s energy. If you don’t have more pertinent questions, I’m taking him back home so he can rest. He’s earned it."
"Wait!" a Frenchman called. "We ’ave not ’ad a chance to ask ze questions."
Madam Bones inclined her head to the man. "What is your question?"
"Mr. Potter — ’ow did you know zeeze were Deaz Eatairs before you attacked zem?"
Harry’s temper snapped. "Were you listening at all? I didn’t attack them! They shot at Ron and me when we were on the hippogriff. The next day, another group of them shot my girlfriend out of the air, and then they attacked me and my friends. I knew that lot were Death Eaters because I’ve seen them before and know who they are and what they look like. If you read the articles in The Quibbler and The Daily Prophet last year where I talked about Voldemort’s coming back — get used to the name, I’m sick of people gasping when they hear it! — then you read a list of those whose voices I recognized or who I heard named. These same wizards were at the Department of Mysteries last year when we fought them and Voldemort there. And they were in France this time, along with some new recruits. It was one of the new people who shot Ginny down in the first place, but the rest of them were going to help him hurt her. All of them were coming after her." He paused a moment, glaring at the complacent, corpulent faces around him, knowing most of them had probably never faced an enemy in combat.
"What would you do if someone you loved was being attacked by Death Eaters? Would you try to fight them, to protect her? Or would you turn and run? I chose to fight, and I’d do it again! And it doesn’t matter to me if they were British or French wizards — they attacked us with no provocation at all. They started it. I finished it."
He was standing up by now, panting as he tried to control his rage. The image of Ginny being shot down was seared in his mind, and it was replaying over and over as he spoke.
"What is wrong with you people? We should be banding together to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters, not having turf wars like this. Who cares if somebody faced Voldemort in France, or Rumania or Iceland or wherever? At least they faced him! And if they defeated him, or at least hurt him enough to make him leave, I would think you’d be happy about that, not angry that they fought on your land!" He slammed himself back into his chair, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, fighting to control his anger.
The room was deathly still for several moments. Then one pair of hands started clapping. Another joined it. Soon many hands were clapping, some voices raised in cheers, while others sat and glared around disapprovingly. Dumbledore smiled benignly at Harry. "Well done, lad. Ready to go home?"
"Yes! Can we go now?"
"I think so." Dumbledore turned to Madam Bones. "May we be excused now, Madam Bones? Harry is still quite tired from all his experiences. His Easter holiday is nearly over. It would be nice if he could enjoy at least a little rest and relaxation before having to return to school."
Madam Bones smiled. "Of course. Thank you both for taking so much time with us. And Mr. Potter? I will support your nomination for the Order of Merlin, Second Class, myself. Thank you for your courage in facing the evil forces of our world, and for coming here today and answering our questions. You may go."
"Thank you," Harry replied, rising to leave. He followed Dumbledore out the door, glancing back once to look at Percy again. Percy gave him a look of loathing. Harry looked back at him sadly. He couldn’t understand why someone would throw away the love of a family like the Weasleys, or old friends.
"Professor?" he asked as they walked down the corridor. "Why is Percy. . .I don’t even know what to ask."
"And I can’t answer you, either. I don’t know what Percy’s after. Power, perhaps. I think in part, he’s embarrassed that he’s strongly backed the wrong person twice, first Barty Crouch and then Cornelius Fudge. He’s quite lucky he hasn’t lost his position. Madam Bones was willing to overlook his mistakes, saying he was young and still had a lot to learn. She’s giving him a chance to succeed. If he follows her example, he may go somewhere yet. Percy has always been a very proud boy, and his pride has been hurt by these mistakes. Maybe he doesn’t understand that other people are willing to forgive him. Maybe he hasn’t forgiven himself. Or maybe he doesn’t think there’s anything he needs to be forgiven for. I just don’t know, Harry. It’s a sad thing."
Harry walked along quietly for a while, then asked, "What should I tell Mrs. Weasley if she asks about him?"
"Just tell her the truth. You saw him, but didn’t get to speak to him. Tell her he looked fine. That should satisfy her."
"OK."
* * * * *
Dinner at Grimmauld Place that night would have been a quiet affair if Fred and George hadn’t arrived to liven things up. When they left and the laughter died away, the group sat silently around the kitchen table. Dumbledore had filled everyone in on the hearing earlier. Harry stayed quiet most of the evening, just laughing when the twins did or said something outrageous, but otherwise, keeping to himself. Since the twins had left, he’d simply stared at the walls most of the time.
"All right there, Harry?" Molly asked kindly.
"Yeah, just tired," he said with a shrug. Ginny was leaning her head on his shoulder, holding his hand in both of hers. Harry glanced down at her, then up at her mother. "Mrs Weasley?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Could I ask you a favour?"
"Of course! What is it?"
Harry chuckled. "I learned the hard way not to agree to do favours before I knew what they were. You should hear me out before agreeing." He sent a teasing glance at Hermione, who blushed, remembering that he no longer did favours without knowing what they were because of what she’d done while under the Black Widow curse.
Molly smiled and sat down opposite him, leaning her arms on the table and giving him all her attention. "All right. Fire away, and then I’ll give you my decision!"
Harry smiled at her, his eyes thoughtful. "This is my house now, right?"
"Of course. Sirius left it to you." The adults in the group glanced uneasily at each other. Was Harry going to ask the Order to find new headquarters? Or what?
"I know Dobby would do this for me," he began quietly, then leaned in and whispered across the table, "but his taste and mine aren’t exactly alike."
"What do you mean, dear?"
"I would like all the portraits removed and put away somewhere. I know they should be treated respectfully, but I don’t know how to deal with them. I don’t want them on the walls. Oh, Professor," he said, looking over at Dumbledore, "if you want Phineas Nigellus to stay as a messenger, or any of the others, that’s fine, but I don’t want them in my room. And Mrs. Black has to go!"
"You’ll get no argument from me there!" Molly said with a laugh. The others were all laughing as well. Harry’s idea appealed to all of them. Those Slytherin portraits had been giving them disapproving glares far too long.
"I’d like the house to be repainted inside in cheerful colours. I’d like light coloured curtains so the sun can brighten the house. I think it can be an attractive house once we get all the Slytherin stuff out of it. I want all the snake door knobs, candelabras and so on replaced with Gryffindor lion door knobs or whatever — or plain ones, if lion ones are too costly. I have no idea how much any of this will cost." He looked around hopefully. All the faces around him were bright with interest. "Do you think this is a good idea? I mean, if I’m going to wind up living here, it can’t be a Slytherin house, y’know? And I can’t stand how dark and dreary it is. I grew up in a dark cupboard. I don’t ever want to live anywhere dark like that again. When Ginny put those posters up in Ron’s and my room when I was sick, I couldn’t believe what a difference it made in the feeling of the room, to have that amount of colour in there." He smiled at Ginny, and she beamed back at him.
"So what do you want me to do, Harry?" Molly prompted.
"I’m going to ask Dobby to remove the portraits, except for those Professor Dumbledore wants kept as messengers — those we’ll move to rooms that aren’t used often. I’ll need your help in working out what to do with the portraits, and I’ll want you, Ginny and Hermione, if they’re willing to help, to pick out colours for the walls and curtains. Would you mind doing that for me? Dobby can change the door knobs and so on — I suppose he knows how to trade them in or sell them or whatever so we can have new ones. Do any of you know about that kind of thing?" he asked, looking around the group.
"Actually, Harry, I do know something about those matters," Arthur said. "I have a contact at the Ministry who deals in old household hardware. He’ll know how to handle it, and how to make certain you get your money’s worth. Those door knobs are valuable, so you will get a good bit of money for them."
"Cool," Harry said with a grin.
"Harry," Molly said, "do you want to move to the master suite, since it’s your house? We can start the redecorating there."
"No, you and Mr. Weasley usually stay there when you’re here. You may as well keep it. I’m happy sharing with Ron — unless Ron is tired of sharing with me?" he said, looking at his best friend.
"No way! You and me are mates, mate! It’s cool sharing a room with you," Ron grinned.
"This house has so many rooms, we can probably each have one if we want to, once we have them all cleaned out and so on," Harry mused. "We can deal with that later. Oh, and in case you’re worried — the Order can use the house as long as they want, as far as I’m concerned. I’ll join as soon as Professor Dumbledore will let me, so at least it will be easy for me to attend meetings," he said with a laugh.
Ginny clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, this will be fun! Mum, when can we start looking at colours?"
"I’ll want new pictures on the walls to replace the portraits," Harry reminded her, "so be on the lookout for good posters and so forth when you’re shopping."
"Aren’t you going with us?" Ginny said, confused.
"Dunno. I trust you," he replied. "If I can go, I will." He looked over at Molly again. "That’s the favour. Will you do it?"
"Of course I will, Harry! It sounds like fun!"
"It sounds brilliant, Harry!" Hermione enthused. "What a great idea!"
"Dobby will be here to help, and I think Winky will be here soon, too, won’t she, Professor?" he asked, looking at Dumbledore again.
"Yes, she’ll be here tomorrow, actually."
"Great. She and Dobby can do the cleaning and painting, then, and you and Ginny can concentrate on the decorating, so it won’t be so much work for you. How’s that?" Harry said.
"Lovely! I can’t wait! Maybe we can go to Diagon Alley tomorrow and get some ideas. Harry, you should come along so we’ll know what you like."
"Anything you ladies pick will suit me fine. I’ve never had anywhere nice to live besides Hogwarts, so I’m looking forward to this place becoming a cheerful, warm place to be. I think your house is brilliant, so I’m sure you’ll do fine with this one."
Molly blushed at his compliment. "Thanks for trusting me with your house, Harry. But I’d still prefer it if you came as well."
"Me, too!" Ginny piped up.
"Yeah, that was a big surprise," Ron chortled.
"We’ll see," he said noncommittally. "A lot depends on how I feel in the morning." He rolled his shoulders, reminding then he was still sore from his fall, as well as the battle.
Molly and Ginny exchanged a look and stopped trying to talk him into it. Morning would be soon enough to deal with his reluctance to join their shopping trip.
The conversation went back to general topics. While the adults were discussing something to do with the economy, Hermione leaned over and spoke to Harry.
"When you feel like it, would you answer some questions for me about wandless magic?"
"Like what?" he asked warily.
"You don’t have to do this now," she said, seeing his caution.
"May as well get it over with," he said stoically. "What is it?"
"Well. . .when Ron and Ginny were telling about the battle, Ginny said she had your wand for a lot of the battle, yet you were casting big spells, even the Killing Curse, with no wand. Wands concentrate the magic and help us control it. How could you cast such big spells and focus them properly without a wand?" She looked genuinely puzzled.
Harry’s face grew tense and he seemed to draw within himself.
Hermione put her hand on his arm, hoping to calm him. "I’m sorry. It’s too soon to ask you this. I should have waited," she said apologetically.
"Yeah," he said, then rose and started to leave the room. "Ask me later, OK? I just can’t. . .not right now." He turned and walked slowly out of the door.
"This is still very hard for him," Remus said, starting to get up to go after Harry. The adults’ conversation had stilled when they noticed Harry’s increasing tension.
"No, I’ll go," Ginny offered. She went looking for Harry and found him in the library, sitting in a huge overstuffed chair, slumped down so far, his neck was bent at an awful angle. "You’re going to get a stiff neck sitting that way."
"Then it will match the rest of me," he grumbled.
"Couldn’t take it, huh?"
"I’ve heard or told the story too many times, and it’s all still so fresh in my mind . . . ."
"May I sit with you?" she asked quietly.
He looked up at her, really looking at her for the first time that evening, noting the tired circles under her eyes. "How are you doing?"
"I’m holding up pretty well," she said. "It gets to me once in a while. I think I’ll probably have nightmares about falling for a long time."
"Yeah, me too — about you falling, I mean," he said, pulling her into his lap. He nuzzled her neck, burying his face in her hair, then pushed her hair aside so he could nibble her ear lobe. "I’ve missed you."
"I’ve been right here," she protested mildly, teasing him.
"Yeah, me too," he agreed, then kissed her gently. The gentle kiss quickly turned more serious. As it deepened, his hand started explorations of her very interesting topography. She giggled as he tickled her, then gasped when he touched her more seriously. He straightened suddenly, his head cocked. "Someone’s coming," he said, helping her straighten her clothes.
"We have to find a better place to do this," she complained. "We keep getting interrupted!"
Harry laughed, his face alight with the happiness she brought him. "You little monkey! What am I going to do with you?"
"I was hoping you’d know by now!" she teased, then giggled at his shocked expression.
Someone had the good grace to knock on the door. "Harry? Ginny?" came Molly’s voice.
"In here, Mum," Ginny replied.
Molly entered the room. "I’m sorry to bother you. Professor Dumbledore has to leave, and he wanted a word with you, Harry."
Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance. More than likely, Mum was on snog patrol, Ginny thought, and Harry seemed to read her mind. He burst out laughing, stifling it quickly.
"What’s so funny?" Molly asked cautiously.
"Ginny was making faces at me, that’s all. I’ve told her over and over her face will freeze like that if she keeps it up," he teased. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him saucily, then hopped off his lap and followed her mother back toward the kitchen, swaying her hips suggestively at Harry, turning to glance over her shoulder and make impish faces at him from time to time. He just grinned, delighted to have such a cheerful person in his life.
"Harry! I was hoping to see you again before I left. Are you feeling quite well now?"
"I’m fine."
"No, you’re not. But you will be," Dumbledore assured him. "You said something about wanting to join the Order."
Harry’s eyes lit up. "Yes, sir, I want to join as soon as you’ll let me. But Remus told me last summer that I have to be out of school before I can join the Order."
"That’s normally the case, but I think you and Ron have earned a place in the Order. Ron’s already seventeen, so he’s of age. You will be seventeen soon, but with your experience, you’re more qualified than many of our adult members. Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, boys," Dumbledore said with a smile, holding out his hand to shake Harry’s and glancing at Ron.
"Really? Wow! Ron, did you know about this?" Harry cried, looking over at his best friend.
"This is the first I’ve heard of it! Thanks, Professor!" Ron exclaimed.
Molly Weasley looked distraught. "It’s not enough that you have both Arthur and I and Bill, Charlie and the twins in the Order — you have to take Ron, too?" she said, tears brimming in her eyes as she stared, heartbroken, at Dumbledore.
"Dear Molly, these boys have already fought alongside Order members and acquitted themselves admirably. They will join the fight whether we allow them in the Order or not. Wouldn’t they be better equipped if they had the information we have, rather than stumbling around in the dark?" Dumbledore said kindly.
She sniffled, still staring at him, then dropped her eyes and slowly nodded.
"What about me?" Ginny demanded. "I fought along with Harry and Ron!"
"Yes, you did, my dear, and I’m very proud of you. However, you’re only fifteen, and if I invite you to join the Order this young," he said, leaning closer to her, "your mother will hex me so badly, I won’t be able to move for weeks! I’ve seen her hexes — I know whereof I speak!" He smiled kindly at the girl.
"And me?" Hermione cried. "I’m older than the boys!"
"Yes, you are." He sighed, then smiled. "I didn’t invite you to join when you turned seventeen because we normally require members to be finished with school. However, you have done so much extra study, I suppose you’re as qualified as the boys are. You’re welcome to join, as well, Miss Granger."
Hermione smiled in delight, while Ginny looked surly.
"Miss Weasley, I’m sure you will know all the information, since I’m certain your brother and your friends will share what they learn in Order meetings with you." He placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "Please don’t think unkindly of me for this decision. It won’t be long before you can join the Order. I’d simply prefer not to have explosive boils on my bum, which I’ve know was one of your mother’s favourite hexes when she was in Hogwarts." He’d made Ginny smile with that comment.
"Well, that’s done. Remus or Arthur can tell you whatever you need to know about the workings of the Order, boys, and Miss Granger. I have a
great many things to do elsewhere, so I’d best be off. Good night!" Dumbledore called as he swept out the door and disappeared.
Author Notes:
Near the end of this chapter, I mention the fact that Hermione is older than the boys. Before you argue the point with me, JKR said in an interview that Hermione's birthday is in September, and she turned 12 just after starting Hogwarts. Many thanks to Kelpie, my brilliant Brit-picker, and to Blakevich, Starfox, Shawn and Pilar for beta-reading!