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shimotsukiFinally, here's the second chapter of a fic that I started posting in, um, May. (Well, you know, there was a lot going on after DH and all...heh.) The next update should be considerably faster. I hope.
All Will Be in Order
When Remus Lupin moves in at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he must come to terms with Sirius Black and a friendship too long submerged by mistrust, loss, and Azkaban. He must learn to work with Molly Weasley, who seems to be nearly as frightened of werewolves as she is of Voldemort. Clearly, adjustments will have to be made. ( Remus, Sirius, Molly | GoF>OotP | gen )
Chapter 2: The First Mission
Word count: 4200 words
Rating: PG (family discord)
Notes: Many thanks to my beta,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jncar. This chapter is much more plausible than it would have been without her comments. (Very minor revisions, September 2011.)
( 1. The Perfect Flat ) || ( Chapter Index )
All Will Be In Order
2. The First Mission
Molly held her spine straight and her chin high as the spiral staircase carried her relentlessly upward. She prayed that no one would be able to see how badly she was shaking. At least she had the warmth of Arthur's hand on her arm, which helped quite a bit. And in any case, she was a Gryffindor. She had to be brave.
Gideon and Fabian were Gryffindors too, an insistent little voice reminded her. Didn't do them a lot of good in the end. Swallowing, she gave her head a sharp shake and tried to shut the voice out. This was important. She was fully committed to the cause.
If only she could stop trembling like a silly leaf.
The door at the top of the stairs was open, spilling warm light from the Headmaster's office, but Molly suddenly found herself rooted to the floor. Arthur gave her arm a gentle squeeze, and she turned back to look into his eyes. The steady resolution she saw there was enough to turn her around again and propel her through the door.
And once she was inside, there was nowhere to go but forward.
Dumbledore stood and came out from behind his desk to clasp each of their hands in turn, candlelight glinting on his half-moon spectacles. He looked tired, but he wore a reassuring smile. Minerva McGonagall nodded grimly in greeting and shut the door with a tiny but portentous click. Dumbledore's fabled phoenix, watching them intently from his perch, gave one soft, liquid note and fell silent again.
"Thank you both for coming," said Dumbledore. "And please let me express my deepest apologies to Misters Fred and George Weasley for the message I sent you." His eyes twinkled briefly. "Circumstances forced me to cast unwarranted aspersions on their good names."
"Not at all," said Arthur at once. "We rather suspected that you weren't really calling us here to discuss Fred and George's detentions."
"Their, er, reputation for creativity seemed a plausible reason for asking you to talk with me and with their Head of House at the end of the term." Dumbledore smiled at McGonagall, standing rigidly by the door like a sentinel. "Minerva is, of course, an invaluable member of the Order of the Phoenix herself."
Then he turned to Molly, his blue gaze suddenly so keen it made her feel cold. "You told me last week in the hospital wing that I could count on you. Are you still willing to join us?"
"Yes. Certainly." Molly managed to keep her voice completely steady.
"If you're looking for new members for the Order," Arthur added, "then Molly and I will be proud to stand with you." He tightened his hold on her arm for just an instant, and she sent him a shaky smile.
Dumbledore nodded soberly. "I'm glad to hear it. The more of us there are who are willing to stand together against Voldemort—" Molly flinched to hear the name spoken aloud, and she saw Arthur do the same—"the stronger we will be."
"What do you need us to do?" she asked.
"Alas, none of us knows what may be required before this struggle is over." The detached calm of the old wizard's voice made those words far more frightening than histrionics would have done, and Molly felt a painful knot tighten in her stomach.
But then Dumbledore smiled again, and his eyes were kind. "At first, though, there are a number of small but essential tasks that we must take up. Let us make ourselves comfortable while we discuss them."
A cluster of armchairs appeared around a small table that was already set for tea. Molly seated herself next to Arthur, and Dumbledore chose the place on her other side, leaving McGonagall to perch stiffly across the silver tea tray from her. Dumbledore waved his wand and the tea service began to pour for them. It knew, somehow, that Molly took her tea with plenty of milk, but Arthur preferred lemon.
"I can go on as I've done this week," Arthur offered, "looking for people who might be ready to hear the truth about You-Know-Who, although it's hard to say very much without sending someone running to Fudge." He looked thoughtful. "It might also help for me to simply find out as much as I can about what's going on inside the Ministry."
"Precisely. If Cornelius intends to be obstructive, then we need to know what he is trying to do so that we can circumvent it." Dumbledore sipped his tea. "There is an Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who is also working for the Order; you may wish to become acquainted with him if you can manage to do so."
"I've met Shacklebolt... Wait a minute." Arthur looked up sharply. "Isn't he the one in charge of the Black case?"
"Yes, he is." Dumbledore turned his piercing gaze on Arthur this time. "I imagine Molly has told you that I am aware of Sirius's whereabouts. But he is an innocent man, and I will do everything in my power to keep him away from the dementors and out of Azkaban." He smiled in a way that managed to be both sympathetic and unyielding. "Will it be too difficult for you, as a Ministry employee, to conceal the knowledge that I have chosen to defy the Ministry and keep Sirius safe?"
Arthur was silent for a moment, but then he slowly shook his head. "If you truly believe that Black is innocent, I will help you protect him."
Dumbledore nodded, looking pleased. "It might make this easier for you if I assure you that Sirius would do absolutely anything for Harry, and Harry is quite fond of his godfather."
Molly remembered the yearning look she had seen in Harry's eyes as Black grasped his hand and took his leave—and the memory gave her an ugly twinge of jealousy. Stop that, she scolded herself. It's good for Harry to have more people who care about him.
"So Arthur will gather information for the Order at the Ministry," she forced herself to say, dragging her attention back to the conversation. "But what can I do?" Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Dumbledore hesitated. "Molly, I'm afraid I must ask something rather unpleasant of you." She started to feel sick, but he held up a hand and quickly added, "It's not dangerous—at least, not very dangerous—it's merely unpleasant. Sirius has offered us his family's house to use as Order headquarters. It's an excellent choice, as the house is right in London and is protected by any number of security charms. But it has been standing empty for a good ten years, so it's in need of a thorough decontamination before we can actually use it."
Housecleaning? Molly took a deep breath and relaxed her white-knuckled grip on her teacup. After all the frightening things she'd been imagining all week Dumbledore would ask of her, the prospect of housecleaning was positively comforting. She met Dumbledore's eyes with genuine confidence. "Leave it to me. I'll have the house usable in no time."
"It will be a bit more than dust and spiders, though," Dumbledore warned her. "As I'm sure you know, the Black family was rather deeply involved with the Dark Arts for generations. You'll need to watch out for cursed or Dark objects as you go through the house."
Molly nodded, still feeling up to the challenge. Maybe she could consult with Bill about the trickier curses. It would give her an excuse to have him home for a visit, anyway.
"Fortunately, you won't have to do it all on your own," said Dumbledore, more lightly now. "Sirius plans to move back into the house, so he'll be there to help."
Molly swallowed. He's innocent, she reminded herself. It's not as though I'll be working side-by-side with an actual cold-blooded murderer.
Dumbledore was watching her carefully. "I will be the first to admit that Sirius can be a bit difficult sometimes. He always did have an obstinate streak, and spending twelve years in Azkaban has not improved his temper. But he is a good man at heart, and if you are kind to him he will be a loyal friend."
Molly nodded, feeling a sudden surge of pity for the man. It must have been simply dreadful to be in prison for so long, and he hadn't even done anything to deserve it. She frowned thoughtfully. From the quick glimpse she'd had of Black in the hospital wing, it seemed he could benefit from some good home cooking. I'll bet no one's looked after him in years, the poor thing.
"There is another Order member who will be staying at the house to help out, as well," Dumbledore went on. "An old friend of Sirius's. Your younger children already know him—he taught Defence Against the Dark Arts here last year. His name is Remus Lupin."
Molly nearly dropped her teacup, so she set it hastily down on the table. "Lupin?" she gasped. "That's the werewolf!" She stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. "You're asking me to spend my days cleaning house with a werewolf?"
The light blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles were suddenly rather sad. Dumbledore put down his own teacup and took her hands, looking straight into her soul again, although his gaze was gentle this time. "Let me assure you that you will like Remus. He did not ask for his affliction, and he does everything he can to live an exemplary life in spite of it. Until last year, only a very few people even knew he was a werewolf. But now that he's been written up in the Prophet, perfect strangers treat him harshly. He may never find steady employment again. And yet, aside from one night each month, he is kind, dependable, and courteous to a fault." He released her hands, and his kindly smile returned. "Didn't your children like him when he was teaching here?"
"They did," Molly admitted, grudgingly. "Ginny and Ron were particularly taken with him, but Percy and the twins liked him too."
"I think you will find that your children have good judgment," McGonagall broke in. "Remus was one of my favourite Gryffindors. Sirius too, actually, but certainly Remus."
Molly frowned at her teacup. Working with Black was one thing—all she had to do was remember that he wasn't a murderer, no matter what people thought. He was just a misunderstood man who needed looking after. But Lupin? He was a werewolf! Could she really bring herself to spend day after day in the company of a Dark creature?
"Molly." Dumbledore's voice was soft but insistent. "We need everyone we can possibly find to join together against Voldemort. I promise that you will be in no danger from Remus, as he will spend full moons away from headquarters, and for the rest of the month he is as human as you or I." He leaned toward her, waiting, until she raised her head and met his eyes. "Will you help get the house in order?"
She straightened her spine once more, swallowing the cold lump of fear that had crept up her throat. Defeating You-Know-Who was the most important thing. She could get used to working alongside a...werewolf—couldn't she?
"All right," she announced, feeling almost reckless. "I'll get started as soon as you like."
. * . * .
They spent the next half hour discussing logistics and security for the new headquarters, and Molly was able to put worrisome thoughts of Dark creatures right out of her head. In fact, the fussy business of sorting out dozens of Things to Do calmed her more than anything else would have done. She actually forgot to be anxious about joining the Order at all—until the moment when Dumbledore and McGonagall were bidding them farewell at the door to the Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore took a deep breath and put a hand on the younger man's arm. "Arthur." He seemed to speak with great reluctance. "I'm afraid I must ask you to be particularly careful about Percy."
The two men exchanged a significant look, and Arthur nodded grimly. "I will."
As soon as the door had closed and they were on their way back down the moving staircase, Molly turned to Arthur with a worried frown. "What was that about Percy?" She'd been sensing a certain amount of tension between her husband and her third son lately, but for once, Arthur hadn't been confiding in her. She didn't know what was going on, and she didn't like that at all.
Even now, Arthur merely gave her a rather preoccupied smile. "It may be nothing. I'll talk to him tonight, and we'll see."
Molly felt icy tendrils of fear curling around her heart again.
. * . * .
"Ron, stop nibbling at the roast and put the platter on the table! Ginny, for the last time, will you please pour the pumpkin juice? Fred! George! What are you doing? That's enough!"
Caught up in the familiar chaos that was dinnertime at the Burrow, Molly could almost forget that less than an hour before, she had been meeting with the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, coolly hatching plans to stop the resurgence of the Darkest wizard of the age. But once the six of them were seated around the table, Arthur's words brought the new reality crashing in again.
"All right, you lot, there's something important we need to talk about."
The deadly serious undertone in their father's voice must have been apparent even to the children, because for once, they quieted down right away.
"You heard what Harry said happened at the end of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament," he began, looking from one curious face to the next.
"You mean," said Fred around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, "the bit about You-Know-Who being back?"
"Yes," said Arthur, "that's exactly what I mean." He looked at each of his youngest children again, searchingly. "The Minister insists that Harry is lying, or at least out of his mind."
"Yeah, I know," said Ron, scowling. "I heard Fudge say that himself."
"I need to know where all of you stand," said Arthur, his voice quiet but steely. "Are you with Harry, and Professor Dumbledore? Or are you with the Minister?"
"But Dad, you're—"
"Ginny. Please just answer the question."
"I'm with Harry." Her eyes flashed. "He would never lie, not about something like this."
"Dad, you should have seen how messed up he was after the Third Task," Ron put in, thumping his glass on the table for emphasis. "He was not making that up."
"Fred? George?"
"We're behind Harry one hundred percent," George declared, exchanging a mysterious glance with Fred, who nodded firmly.
Arthur let out a breath. "Then—are all of you willing to spend the summer helping Professor Dumbledore work against You-Know-Who? With a plan so secret that part of it's under the Fidelius Charm?"
All four of them sat bolt upright, eyes wide with excitement and pride. "Dumbledore wants us to help?" breathed Ron. "That's—wow."
Molly beamed at her children. "I knew we could count on you to do your part."
. * . * .
Unfortunately, once Molly had explained things, the mood soured rather quickly.
"Housecleaning?" Ginny was incredulous.
The twins were no happier. "You want us to spend our entire summer holiday—"
"—our last summer holiday—"
"—shut up in a great, filthy house?"
"And what do you mean, I'm not allowed to write to Harry about what we're doing?" Ron's ears were redder than his hair.
"Oh, so now it's, ‘Good luck with You-Know-Who and all, but the Weasley children have better things to do'!" Molly's hands were on her hips, and she called up a glare potent enough to neutralize a Cheering Charm. "Is that what you want me to tell Professor Dumbledore?"
The complaints faded into silence.
"No, Mum." Ginny spoke first, looking fixedly at her plate. "If this is what Dumbledore wants, I'll do it."
"Yeah, me too," Ron mumbled.
The twins looked at each other, sighed, and nodded.
"But can we have a day off, every now and then, for Quidditch practice?" asked Fred hopefully.
"Our House needs us to be in prime shape in September, you know," George added. "We can't let Gryffindor down."
Molly forced back the chuckle that always threatened to escape when the twins went all innocent on her. "Well, let's see what Professor Dumbledore says."
With that, they all got down to the serious business of supper. Molly was pleased to see that the prospect of joining in the struggle against You-Know-Who didn't seem to diminish anyone's appetite.
And then, just as she began to pass heaping bowls of potatoes and peas around the table for second helpings, the kitchen door rattled open and Percy appeared.
"Welcome home, dear! You're early tonight!" Molly hurried to set a place for the son who worked such long hours that he usually ate alone, well after the others had finished.
Instead of coming to take his seat at the table, however, Percy stood in the middle of the kitchen with his shoulders thrown back and his chest puffed up with pride. "I've had some good news," he announced. "I've been promoted!" A wide smile spread across his face. "As of today, I am Junior Assistant to the Minister."
"Oh, Percy!" Molly hurried around the table from where she'd been laying his place to give him a delighted hug. "I'm so proud of you!" She shushed the twins, who were already teasing Percy in posh accents, and turned to Arthur, wanting to see his pride in the son who'd followed in his footsteps at the Ministry.
But Arthur's face was oddly closed. In fact, he looked—worried.
Molly felt her own smile vanish.
"Junior Assistant to the Minister?" Arthur repeated, as though he were examining the words. "It's a bit unusual to end up in a position like that after only one year at the Ministry, don't you think?"
"Yes, it is," said Percy, the smile broader than ever. "Shows how well the Minister thinks of me!"
But now even Molly was frowning. Had Percy's first year really been that outstanding? There had been that nasty business with poor Mr. Crouch, after all, and the inquiry...
"Percy," said Arthur carefully, "you've been working very hard, and I'm sure Fudge appreciates that. But—" He shook his head helplessly, as though he didn't want to go on. "This just isn't how things are normally done at the Ministry, son." He sighed. "You need to be careful. It's possible that Fudge is using you, for—for purposes of his own."
Percy's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting that he's only promoted me to teach you a lesson? To remind you that loyalty pays, and that it's foolish to listen to Dumbledore's delusions?"
No one around the table moved or said a word. Even Ron had stopped chewing, staring first at his father and then at his brother.
"Well, I resent that insinuation!" Percy's fists were clenched. "Fudge knows I'm loyal to the Ministry, and he knows I've been trying all week to talk you round, but your stubbornness has got nothing to do with this promotion! I deserve it!"
"I'm sure you deserve a promotion," said Arthur quickly. "But don't you think we have to wonder about this promotion? One that puts you right in the Minister's own office, only one year out of school?"
Molly's heart sank. She understood now—Fudge must want to use Percy as a way to try to get information about Arthur, and maybe even about Dumbledore. When Percy realized what was going on, it would be such a disappointment, poor boy.
Then her heart stopped. What she saw on Percy's face wasn't disappointment at all, or even embarrassment. It was outright anger, sullen and resentful.
"You're just trying to take this—this triumph—away from me," he said heatedly. "You're jealous! Just because you've never amounted to much in your own career!"
Arthur sat motionless, staring at his son. A dull red flush crept up from his neck.
Molly felt her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She thought of Percy as a small boy, carrying Arthur's oldest briefcase around the house, playing "Ministry." How could he say such horrible things to his own father?
But Percy wasn't finished. "You could have been anything! You could have been head of some important department by now, if you'd really tried. We could've had more—new clothes every year—new schoolbooks—a nice house—"
Arthur stood with a lurch, knocking his chair over. His face was white now, except for one red spot that burned on each cheek.
Molly started to cry quietly into her napkin.
Now that Percy had started, it seemed he couldn't stop. "Do you know how hard it's been for me at work this last year, being your son? You've let your ridiculous obsession with Muggles make you a laughing-stock all over the Ministry!"
"That is ENOUGH!" Arthur roared.
The kitchen was filled with a ringing silence. No one could remember the last time Arthur Weasley had raised his voice in anger.
"I've made the choices I have because they were right!" Arthur was still shouting. "Muggles deserve respect and protection from magical mistreatment!" He took a step toward Percy, who backed away. "And Cornelius Fudge is dead wrong about You-Know-Who!"
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Percy stepped forward again, his face every bit as white as Arthur's. "Minister Fudge knows what he's doing! Dumbledore is a doting old fool, trying to relive the glories of his past!"
Molly cried harder. This was the boy who'd been beside himself with pride when Dumbledore had made him Head Boy only two years before. How had things gone so very wrong?
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Arthur's face was inches away from Percy's.
"You heard me!" Now Percy was shouting, too. "This delusion will not last! Dumbledore's ridiculous fearmongering will be exposed for the empty threat it is! His supporters will never have positions of power in the Ministry again!" He drew himself up and took a deep breath. "And I will not join the losing side! I will not jeopardize my career for a crazy old man's fantasies!" He swallowed. "I've tried all week to change your mind about Dumbledore, Dad. But if you and Mum insist on turning against the Minister and the voices of reason, I'll make sure that everyone knows that—that I am no part of this family!"
He spun around and stormed up the stairs.
In the kitchen, no one moved, except Arthur, who righted his chair, sat on it with a thump, and sawed violently at his slice of roast. Molly hiccoughed into her napkin, trying to stop the tears. Percy didn't really mean all that. He couldn't.
Banging and scraping noises filtered down from upstairs, and then Percy came charging back down with his briefcase in one hand and a suitcase in the other. He wrenched the door open without a word to anyone.
"Percy?" Molly pleaded.
He stopped, turning halfway round, but he wouldn't look at her.
"Where are you going?"
"London," he ground out through clenched teeth. "I'll stay with friends tonight, and get a place of my own first thing. I can afford it. I got a promotion."
And then the door slammed. Percy was gone.
. * . * .
Late that night, Molly lay in bed, staring into the darkness. Arthur's temper was a fearsome thing once provoked, but he never stayed angry very long. Surely Percy would come to his senses in a day or two, and all of this would just blow over. She wouldn't worry about him. She wouldn't.
She ought to be thinking about her mission for the Order instead.
But the cold fear that she'd been able to push aside in Dumbledore's office, when they were busy talking about Floo security under Fidelius or the most effective doxycide, came back tenfold now that she was lying quietly in the dark.
"Arthur?"
He was curled up on his side with his back to her, and she felt him stiffen.
"Have you ever met a werewolf?"
Arthur relaxed. He'd probably been worried that she wanted to talk about Percy. But for heaven's sake, she knew better than to bring that up before he'd cooled off.
"A few," he said, rolling over to face her.
"What are they like?"
The silvery crescent moon outside their window gave just enough light for her to watch him frown, considering.
"That's a bit like asking what wizards are like, isn't it?" said Arthur at last. "They're all different. Some of them are hostile. Some of them are resentful of wizardkind and prefer to keep to themselves. But most of them are probably decent folks, just trying to make ends meet." He ran a gentle hand over her hair and pulled her close. "This Lupin fellow sounds like he's all right, don't you think? Dumbledore and McGonagall both spoke highly of him."
"I suppose," said Molly dubiously, resting her head on Arthur's shoulder and closing her eyes at last.
But her dreams that night were filled with terrifying images of huge, bloodthirsty monsters.
. * . * .
( On to Ch 3 ) ( Up to Chapter Index )
.
All Will Be in Order
When Remus Lupin moves in at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he must come to terms with Sirius Black and a friendship too long submerged by mistrust, loss, and Azkaban. He must learn to work with Molly Weasley, who seems to be nearly as frightened of werewolves as she is of Voldemort. Clearly, adjustments will have to be made. ( Remus, Sirius, Molly | GoF>OotP | gen )
Chapter 2: The First Mission
Word count: 4200 words
Rating: PG (family discord)
Notes: Many thanks to my beta,
jncar. This chapter is much more plausible than it would have been without her comments. (Very minor revisions, September 2011.)- "Housecleaning?" Ginny was incredulous.
The twins were no happier. "You want us to spend our entire summer holiday—"
"—our last summer holiday—"
"—shut up in a great, filthy house?"
"And what do you mean, I'm not allowed to write to Harry about what we're doing?" Ron's ears were redder than his hair.
( 1. The Perfect Flat ) || ( Chapter Index )
2. The First Mission
"Molly...am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"
—Goblet of Fire, chapter 36
. * . * .
"Percy and Dad had a row," said Fred. "I’ve never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It’s normally Mum who shouts..."
—Order of the Phoenix, chapter 4
—Goblet of Fire, chapter 36
. * . * .
"Percy and Dad had a row," said Fred. "I’ve never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It’s normally Mum who shouts..."
—Order of the Phoenix, chapter 4
Gideon and Fabian were Gryffindors too, an insistent little voice reminded her. Didn't do them a lot of good in the end. Swallowing, she gave her head a sharp shake and tried to shut the voice out. This was important. She was fully committed to the cause.
If only she could stop trembling like a silly leaf.
The door at the top of the stairs was open, spilling warm light from the Headmaster's office, but Molly suddenly found herself rooted to the floor. Arthur gave her arm a gentle squeeze, and she turned back to look into his eyes. The steady resolution she saw there was enough to turn her around again and propel her through the door.
And once she was inside, there was nowhere to go but forward.
Dumbledore stood and came out from behind his desk to clasp each of their hands in turn, candlelight glinting on his half-moon spectacles. He looked tired, but he wore a reassuring smile. Minerva McGonagall nodded grimly in greeting and shut the door with a tiny but portentous click. Dumbledore's fabled phoenix, watching them intently from his perch, gave one soft, liquid note and fell silent again.
"Thank you both for coming," said Dumbledore. "And please let me express my deepest apologies to Misters Fred and George Weasley for the message I sent you." His eyes twinkled briefly. "Circumstances forced me to cast unwarranted aspersions on their good names."
"Not at all," said Arthur at once. "We rather suspected that you weren't really calling us here to discuss Fred and George's detentions."
"Their, er, reputation for creativity seemed a plausible reason for asking you to talk with me and with their Head of House at the end of the term." Dumbledore smiled at McGonagall, standing rigidly by the door like a sentinel. "Minerva is, of course, an invaluable member of the Order of the Phoenix herself."
Then he turned to Molly, his blue gaze suddenly so keen it made her feel cold. "You told me last week in the hospital wing that I could count on you. Are you still willing to join us?"
"Yes. Certainly." Molly managed to keep her voice completely steady.
"If you're looking for new members for the Order," Arthur added, "then Molly and I will be proud to stand with you." He tightened his hold on her arm for just an instant, and she sent him a shaky smile.
Dumbledore nodded soberly. "I'm glad to hear it. The more of us there are who are willing to stand together against Voldemort—" Molly flinched to hear the name spoken aloud, and she saw Arthur do the same—"the stronger we will be."
"What do you need us to do?" she asked.
"Alas, none of us knows what may be required before this struggle is over." The detached calm of the old wizard's voice made those words far more frightening than histrionics would have done, and Molly felt a painful knot tighten in her stomach.
But then Dumbledore smiled again, and his eyes were kind. "At first, though, there are a number of small but essential tasks that we must take up. Let us make ourselves comfortable while we discuss them."
A cluster of armchairs appeared around a small table that was already set for tea. Molly seated herself next to Arthur, and Dumbledore chose the place on her other side, leaving McGonagall to perch stiffly across the silver tea tray from her. Dumbledore waved his wand and the tea service began to pour for them. It knew, somehow, that Molly took her tea with plenty of milk, but Arthur preferred lemon.
"I can go on as I've done this week," Arthur offered, "looking for people who might be ready to hear the truth about You-Know-Who, although it's hard to say very much without sending someone running to Fudge." He looked thoughtful. "It might also help for me to simply find out as much as I can about what's going on inside the Ministry."
"Precisely. If Cornelius intends to be obstructive, then we need to know what he is trying to do so that we can circumvent it." Dumbledore sipped his tea. "There is an Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who is also working for the Order; you may wish to become acquainted with him if you can manage to do so."
"I've met Shacklebolt... Wait a minute." Arthur looked up sharply. "Isn't he the one in charge of the Black case?"
"Yes, he is." Dumbledore turned his piercing gaze on Arthur this time. "I imagine Molly has told you that I am aware of Sirius's whereabouts. But he is an innocent man, and I will do everything in my power to keep him away from the dementors and out of Azkaban." He smiled in a way that managed to be both sympathetic and unyielding. "Will it be too difficult for you, as a Ministry employee, to conceal the knowledge that I have chosen to defy the Ministry and keep Sirius safe?"
Arthur was silent for a moment, but then he slowly shook his head. "If you truly believe that Black is innocent, I will help you protect him."
Dumbledore nodded, looking pleased. "It might make this easier for you if I assure you that Sirius would do absolutely anything for Harry, and Harry is quite fond of his godfather."
Molly remembered the yearning look she had seen in Harry's eyes as Black grasped his hand and took his leave—and the memory gave her an ugly twinge of jealousy. Stop that, she scolded herself. It's good for Harry to have more people who care about him.
"So Arthur will gather information for the Order at the Ministry," she forced herself to say, dragging her attention back to the conversation. "But what can I do?" Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Dumbledore hesitated. "Molly, I'm afraid I must ask something rather unpleasant of you." She started to feel sick, but he held up a hand and quickly added, "It's not dangerous—at least, not very dangerous—it's merely unpleasant. Sirius has offered us his family's house to use as Order headquarters. It's an excellent choice, as the house is right in London and is protected by any number of security charms. But it has been standing empty for a good ten years, so it's in need of a thorough decontamination before we can actually use it."
Housecleaning? Molly took a deep breath and relaxed her white-knuckled grip on her teacup. After all the frightening things she'd been imagining all week Dumbledore would ask of her, the prospect of housecleaning was positively comforting. She met Dumbledore's eyes with genuine confidence. "Leave it to me. I'll have the house usable in no time."
"It will be a bit more than dust and spiders, though," Dumbledore warned her. "As I'm sure you know, the Black family was rather deeply involved with the Dark Arts for generations. You'll need to watch out for cursed or Dark objects as you go through the house."
Molly nodded, still feeling up to the challenge. Maybe she could consult with Bill about the trickier curses. It would give her an excuse to have him home for a visit, anyway.
"Fortunately, you won't have to do it all on your own," said Dumbledore, more lightly now. "Sirius plans to move back into the house, so he'll be there to help."
Molly swallowed. He's innocent, she reminded herself. It's not as though I'll be working side-by-side with an actual cold-blooded murderer.
Dumbledore was watching her carefully. "I will be the first to admit that Sirius can be a bit difficult sometimes. He always did have an obstinate streak, and spending twelve years in Azkaban has not improved his temper. But he is a good man at heart, and if you are kind to him he will be a loyal friend."
Molly nodded, feeling a sudden surge of pity for the man. It must have been simply dreadful to be in prison for so long, and he hadn't even done anything to deserve it. She frowned thoughtfully. From the quick glimpse she'd had of Black in the hospital wing, it seemed he could benefit from some good home cooking. I'll bet no one's looked after him in years, the poor thing.
"There is another Order member who will be staying at the house to help out, as well," Dumbledore went on. "An old friend of Sirius's. Your younger children already know him—he taught Defence Against the Dark Arts here last year. His name is Remus Lupin."
Molly nearly dropped her teacup, so she set it hastily down on the table. "Lupin?" she gasped. "That's the werewolf!" She stared at Dumbledore in disbelief. "You're asking me to spend my days cleaning house with a werewolf?"
The light blue eyes behind the half-moon spectacles were suddenly rather sad. Dumbledore put down his own teacup and took her hands, looking straight into her soul again, although his gaze was gentle this time. "Let me assure you that you will like Remus. He did not ask for his affliction, and he does everything he can to live an exemplary life in spite of it. Until last year, only a very few people even knew he was a werewolf. But now that he's been written up in the Prophet, perfect strangers treat him harshly. He may never find steady employment again. And yet, aside from one night each month, he is kind, dependable, and courteous to a fault." He released her hands, and his kindly smile returned. "Didn't your children like him when he was teaching here?"
"They did," Molly admitted, grudgingly. "Ginny and Ron were particularly taken with him, but Percy and the twins liked him too."
"I think you will find that your children have good judgment," McGonagall broke in. "Remus was one of my favourite Gryffindors. Sirius too, actually, but certainly Remus."
Molly frowned at her teacup. Working with Black was one thing—all she had to do was remember that he wasn't a murderer, no matter what people thought. He was just a misunderstood man who needed looking after. But Lupin? He was a werewolf! Could she really bring herself to spend day after day in the company of a Dark creature?
"Molly." Dumbledore's voice was soft but insistent. "We need everyone we can possibly find to join together against Voldemort. I promise that you will be in no danger from Remus, as he will spend full moons away from headquarters, and for the rest of the month he is as human as you or I." He leaned toward her, waiting, until she raised her head and met his eyes. "Will you help get the house in order?"
She straightened her spine once more, swallowing the cold lump of fear that had crept up her throat. Defeating You-Know-Who was the most important thing. She could get used to working alongside a...werewolf—couldn't she?
"All right," she announced, feeling almost reckless. "I'll get started as soon as you like."
They spent the next half hour discussing logistics and security for the new headquarters, and Molly was able to put worrisome thoughts of Dark creatures right out of her head. In fact, the fussy business of sorting out dozens of Things to Do calmed her more than anything else would have done. She actually forgot to be anxious about joining the Order at all—until the moment when Dumbledore and McGonagall were bidding them farewell at the door to the Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore took a deep breath and put a hand on the younger man's arm. "Arthur." He seemed to speak with great reluctance. "I'm afraid I must ask you to be particularly careful about Percy."
The two men exchanged a significant look, and Arthur nodded grimly. "I will."
As soon as the door had closed and they were on their way back down the moving staircase, Molly turned to Arthur with a worried frown. "What was that about Percy?" She'd been sensing a certain amount of tension between her husband and her third son lately, but for once, Arthur hadn't been confiding in her. She didn't know what was going on, and she didn't like that at all.
Even now, Arthur merely gave her a rather preoccupied smile. "It may be nothing. I'll talk to him tonight, and we'll see."
Molly felt icy tendrils of fear curling around her heart again.
"Ron, stop nibbling at the roast and put the platter on the table! Ginny, for the last time, will you please pour the pumpkin juice? Fred! George! What are you doing? That's enough!"
Caught up in the familiar chaos that was dinnertime at the Burrow, Molly could almost forget that less than an hour before, she had been meeting with the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, coolly hatching plans to stop the resurgence of the Darkest wizard of the age. But once the six of them were seated around the table, Arthur's words brought the new reality crashing in again.
"All right, you lot, there's something important we need to talk about."
The deadly serious undertone in their father's voice must have been apparent even to the children, because for once, they quieted down right away.
"You heard what Harry said happened at the end of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament," he began, looking from one curious face to the next.
"You mean," said Fred around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, "the bit about You-Know-Who being back?"
"Yes," said Arthur, "that's exactly what I mean." He looked at each of his youngest children again, searchingly. "The Minister insists that Harry is lying, or at least out of his mind."
"Yeah, I know," said Ron, scowling. "I heard Fudge say that himself."
"I need to know where all of you stand," said Arthur, his voice quiet but steely. "Are you with Harry, and Professor Dumbledore? Or are you with the Minister?"
"But Dad, you're—"
"Ginny. Please just answer the question."
"I'm with Harry." Her eyes flashed. "He would never lie, not about something like this."
"Dad, you should have seen how messed up he was after the Third Task," Ron put in, thumping his glass on the table for emphasis. "He was not making that up."
"Fred? George?"
"We're behind Harry one hundred percent," George declared, exchanging a mysterious glance with Fred, who nodded firmly.
Arthur let out a breath. "Then—are all of you willing to spend the summer helping Professor Dumbledore work against You-Know-Who? With a plan so secret that part of it's under the Fidelius Charm?"
All four of them sat bolt upright, eyes wide with excitement and pride. "Dumbledore wants us to help?" breathed Ron. "That's—wow."
Molly beamed at her children. "I knew we could count on you to do your part."
Unfortunately, once Molly had explained things, the mood soured rather quickly.
"Housecleaning?" Ginny was incredulous.
The twins were no happier. "You want us to spend our entire summer holiday—"
"—our last summer holiday—"
"—shut up in a great, filthy house?"
"And what do you mean, I'm not allowed to write to Harry about what we're doing?" Ron's ears were redder than his hair.
"Oh, so now it's, ‘Good luck with You-Know-Who and all, but the Weasley children have better things to do'!" Molly's hands were on her hips, and she called up a glare potent enough to neutralize a Cheering Charm. "Is that what you want me to tell Professor Dumbledore?"
The complaints faded into silence.
"No, Mum." Ginny spoke first, looking fixedly at her plate. "If this is what Dumbledore wants, I'll do it."
"Yeah, me too," Ron mumbled.
The twins looked at each other, sighed, and nodded.
"But can we have a day off, every now and then, for Quidditch practice?" asked Fred hopefully.
"Our House needs us to be in prime shape in September, you know," George added. "We can't let Gryffindor down."
Molly forced back the chuckle that always threatened to escape when the twins went all innocent on her. "Well, let's see what Professor Dumbledore says."
With that, they all got down to the serious business of supper. Molly was pleased to see that the prospect of joining in the struggle against You-Know-Who didn't seem to diminish anyone's appetite.
And then, just as she began to pass heaping bowls of potatoes and peas around the table for second helpings, the kitchen door rattled open and Percy appeared.
"Welcome home, dear! You're early tonight!" Molly hurried to set a place for the son who worked such long hours that he usually ate alone, well after the others had finished.
Instead of coming to take his seat at the table, however, Percy stood in the middle of the kitchen with his shoulders thrown back and his chest puffed up with pride. "I've had some good news," he announced. "I've been promoted!" A wide smile spread across his face. "As of today, I am Junior Assistant to the Minister."
"Oh, Percy!" Molly hurried around the table from where she'd been laying his place to give him a delighted hug. "I'm so proud of you!" She shushed the twins, who were already teasing Percy in posh accents, and turned to Arthur, wanting to see his pride in the son who'd followed in his footsteps at the Ministry.
But Arthur's face was oddly closed. In fact, he looked—worried.
Molly felt her own smile vanish.
"Junior Assistant to the Minister?" Arthur repeated, as though he were examining the words. "It's a bit unusual to end up in a position like that after only one year at the Ministry, don't you think?"
"Yes, it is," said Percy, the smile broader than ever. "Shows how well the Minister thinks of me!"
But now even Molly was frowning. Had Percy's first year really been that outstanding? There had been that nasty business with poor Mr. Crouch, after all, and the inquiry...
"Percy," said Arthur carefully, "you've been working very hard, and I'm sure Fudge appreciates that. But—" He shook his head helplessly, as though he didn't want to go on. "This just isn't how things are normally done at the Ministry, son." He sighed. "You need to be careful. It's possible that Fudge is using you, for—for purposes of his own."
Percy's eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting that he's only promoted me to teach you a lesson? To remind you that loyalty pays, and that it's foolish to listen to Dumbledore's delusions?"
No one around the table moved or said a word. Even Ron had stopped chewing, staring first at his father and then at his brother.
"Well, I resent that insinuation!" Percy's fists were clenched. "Fudge knows I'm loyal to the Ministry, and he knows I've been trying all week to talk you round, but your stubbornness has got nothing to do with this promotion! I deserve it!"
"I'm sure you deserve a promotion," said Arthur quickly. "But don't you think we have to wonder about this promotion? One that puts you right in the Minister's own office, only one year out of school?"
Molly's heart sank. She understood now—Fudge must want to use Percy as a way to try to get information about Arthur, and maybe even about Dumbledore. When Percy realized what was going on, it would be such a disappointment, poor boy.
Then her heart stopped. What she saw on Percy's face wasn't disappointment at all, or even embarrassment. It was outright anger, sullen and resentful.
"You're just trying to take this—this triumph—away from me," he said heatedly. "You're jealous! Just because you've never amounted to much in your own career!"
Arthur sat motionless, staring at his son. A dull red flush crept up from his neck.
Molly felt her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She thought of Percy as a small boy, carrying Arthur's oldest briefcase around the house, playing "Ministry." How could he say such horrible things to his own father?
But Percy wasn't finished. "You could have been anything! You could have been head of some important department by now, if you'd really tried. We could've had more—new clothes every year—new schoolbooks—a nice house—"
Arthur stood with a lurch, knocking his chair over. His face was white now, except for one red spot that burned on each cheek.
Molly started to cry quietly into her napkin.
Now that Percy had started, it seemed he couldn't stop. "Do you know how hard it's been for me at work this last year, being your son? You've let your ridiculous obsession with Muggles make you a laughing-stock all over the Ministry!"
"That is ENOUGH!" Arthur roared.
The kitchen was filled with a ringing silence. No one could remember the last time Arthur Weasley had raised his voice in anger.
"I've made the choices I have because they were right!" Arthur was still shouting. "Muggles deserve respect and protection from magical mistreatment!" He took a step toward Percy, who backed away. "And Cornelius Fudge is dead wrong about You-Know-Who!"
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Percy stepped forward again, his face every bit as white as Arthur's. "Minister Fudge knows what he's doing! Dumbledore is a doting old fool, trying to relive the glories of his past!"
Molly cried harder. This was the boy who'd been beside himself with pride when Dumbledore had made him Head Boy only two years before. How had things gone so very wrong?
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Arthur's face was inches away from Percy's.
"You heard me!" Now Percy was shouting, too. "This delusion will not last! Dumbledore's ridiculous fearmongering will be exposed for the empty threat it is! His supporters will never have positions of power in the Ministry again!" He drew himself up and took a deep breath. "And I will not join the losing side! I will not jeopardize my career for a crazy old man's fantasies!" He swallowed. "I've tried all week to change your mind about Dumbledore, Dad. But if you and Mum insist on turning against the Minister and the voices of reason, I'll make sure that everyone knows that—that I am no part of this family!"
He spun around and stormed up the stairs.
In the kitchen, no one moved, except Arthur, who righted his chair, sat on it with a thump, and sawed violently at his slice of roast. Molly hiccoughed into her napkin, trying to stop the tears. Percy didn't really mean all that. He couldn't.
Banging and scraping noises filtered down from upstairs, and then Percy came charging back down with his briefcase in one hand and a suitcase in the other. He wrenched the door open without a word to anyone.
"Percy?" Molly pleaded.
He stopped, turning halfway round, but he wouldn't look at her.
"Where are you going?"
"London," he ground out through clenched teeth. "I'll stay with friends tonight, and get a place of my own first thing. I can afford it. I got a promotion."
And then the door slammed. Percy was gone.
Late that night, Molly lay in bed, staring into the darkness. Arthur's temper was a fearsome thing once provoked, but he never stayed angry very long. Surely Percy would come to his senses in a day or two, and all of this would just blow over. She wouldn't worry about him. She wouldn't.
She ought to be thinking about her mission for the Order instead.
But the cold fear that she'd been able to push aside in Dumbledore's office, when they were busy talking about Floo security under Fidelius or the most effective doxycide, came back tenfold now that she was lying quietly in the dark.
"Arthur?"
He was curled up on his side with his back to her, and she felt him stiffen.
"Have you ever met a werewolf?"
Arthur relaxed. He'd probably been worried that she wanted to talk about Percy. But for heaven's sake, she knew better than to bring that up before he'd cooled off.
"A few," he said, rolling over to face her.
"What are they like?"
The silvery crescent moon outside their window gave just enough light for her to watch him frown, considering.
"That's a bit like asking what wizards are like, isn't it?" said Arthur at last. "They're all different. Some of them are hostile. Some of them are resentful of wizardkind and prefer to keep to themselves. But most of them are probably decent folks, just trying to make ends meet." He ran a gentle hand over her hair and pulled her close. "This Lupin fellow sounds like he's all right, don't you think? Dumbledore and McGonagall both spoke highly of him."
"I suppose," said Molly dubiously, resting her head on Arthur's shoulder and closing her eyes at last.
But her dreams that night were filled with terrifying images of huge, bloodthirsty monsters.
( On to Ch 3 ) ( Up to Chapter Index )
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