"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL!" Harry bellowed, his face turning a furious, mottled purple as he advanced on them. "YOU'VE STILL BEEN HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER, HAVEN'T YOU?! ME? I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEY'S FOR A WHOLE MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU TWO HAVE EVER MANAGED IN YOUR LIVES, AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT! WHO SAVED THE SORCERER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE?"
It was as though every single filter and shred of self-control Harry possessed had just come crumbling down in a single, roaring avalanche. Hedwig rustled her feathers violently, taking off from his shoulder to perch on top of the wardrobe, while Pigwidgeon twittered in sheer alarm and zoomed even faster in dizzying, frantic circles around their heads.
"WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR?" Harry screamed, his voice cracking with the sheer volume of his rage. "WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!"
Ron stood rooted to the floor, his mouth slightly open, completely at a loss for words. Hermione remained perfectly still, her hands resting tightly over her bag, waiting patiently for Harry to let it all out. She knew with absolute certainty that he desperately needed to vent this poison, and all she had to do was stand her ground until he ran out of breath.
"BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON?" He was gesturing wildly between the two of them. "WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME OR LUCIFER WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?!"
"Harry, mate, we wanted to, we really did—" Ron began, a desperate attempt to patch things over.
"CAN'T HAVE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU?" Harry barked, spinning on his heel to glare at Ron. "OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL! BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR—"
"Well, he did—"
"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE!" He was pacing the room like a caged animal, his breathing heavy and ragged. "NICKING PAPERS OUT OF MUGGLE BINS JUST TO TRY AND FIND OUT IF ANYONE HAD BEEN MURDERED!"
"We wanted to—"
"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU?" Taunting, his eyes flashing bitterly. "ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER, PLAYING AT BEING IN A SECRET CLUB—"
"No, honest—"
"Harry, we are both incredibly sorry," Hermione said, her voice dropping into a calm, steady rhythm that refused to match his shouting. "I already told you that I had a fully coded letter ready to go, and Molly stopped me. She physically took it from me and shredded it to pieces. She kept me from telling you a single thing... I would be completely furious if I were in your shoes, Harry. If you have any more anger left to let out, please, just go on."
Harry stopped pacing, his shoulders heaving as he stared at her. The absolute permission to rage seemed to deflate the immediate peak of his anger, leaving him breathing heavily. He looked around the gloomy bedroom, his scowl returning. "What is this place, anyway?"
"It's the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix," Ron blurted out instantly, relieved the screaming had hit a lull.
"I have yet to be told what that actually is, so what are they?" He demanded, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
"It's a secret society," Hermione said. As the words left her mouth, she realized her very first assessment upon arriving at the Leaky Cauldron had been entirely on point. "An organization Dumbledore founded back when Voldemort was first rising to power. They fought directly against him and his Death Eaters during the first war."
"Who all's in it?" Harry snapped.
"Quite a few people—"
"—we've met about twenty or twenty-five of them so far," Ron continued, building off Hermione's sentence. "But we think there are at least twice as many as that overall."
Lucifer quietly took a breath, calculating the names in his head as he leaned against the wall. 'Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny...' He couldn't help but think the entire damn Order was just going to be made up of Weasleys. It was less of a legendary resistance movement and more of an oversized family reunion with a few guests. He also found the name itself to be incredibly tacky. The 'Order of the Phoenix' was far too on the nose, clearly just a vain marketing choice by Dumbledore because of his pet bird, Fawkes. The old man just couldn't resist branding his secret little club after his own aesthetics.
"So... neither of you actually knows anything concrete about Voldemort, then?" Harry asked tersely, his eyes narrowing. "Seeing as you've not been allowed into the official meetings?"
"Well, no... but we've managed to get a very good general idea," Hermione revealed, a small smirk playing on her lips.
Harry's face almost seemed to light up with a spark of dark curiosity. "You do? How?"
"Something Fred and George invented," Ron said, a sudden grin breaking through his anxiety. "Extendable Ears, see. They're mad useful."
"Extendable Ears?" Harry asked, his face contorting slightly in confusion.
"Yeah, only... we've had to stop using them lately because Mum caught us and went absolutely berserk," Ron explained, gesturing toward the door. "Fred and George had to scramble to hide them all to stop Mum from binning the entire inventory. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realized what was going on. We know for a fact that some of the Order are actively trailing known Death Eaters, keeping strict tabs on them, you know?"
"And some of them are working around the clock to recruit more wizards to the cause," Hermione added, doing her best not to look completely clueless about the larger political landscape.
Harry snorted indignantly, leaning his weight against a bedpost. "So... what have you two been doing with your time if you're not allowed in the kitchen during meetings?" he demanded. "You said in your brief notes that you'd been busy as well?"
"We have been," Hermione said, her nose scrunching up in profound distaste. "We've been decontaminating this entire house. It's been completely empty for ages, and dark magical things have been breeding in the upholstery. The real problem is... we are currently using," She stopped, looking as though she might actually throw up in her mouth, "Gilderoy Lockhart's methods for pest removal. It is horribly, painfully slow. So far we've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms, and I think we are tackling the drawing room tomo—"
LOUD CRACK.
LOUD CRACK.
Two explosive sounds echoed through the small bedroom, signaling that someone had violently Apparated directly into the space. The culprits were none other than Fred and George Weasley.
The sudden shock caused Hermione to jump backward, her back pressing firmly against Lucifer's chest, whose hands immediately came up, steadying her by her waist with an iron grip.
Wrapped in the intense focus of Harry's breakdown, she had quite honestly forgotten Lucifer was even standing by the wardrobe, given how unnaturally quiet and contained he had been the entire time.
"Stop 'doing' that!" she yelled at the twins, her heart hammering against her ribs as she leaned back into Lucifer's solid frame.
"Hello, Harry," George said smoothly, a wide beam splitting his face as he completely ignored the scowling, bushy-haired girl. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones vibrating through the floorboards."
"You really don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry. Let it all out," Fred added, also beaming broadly. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away in Ottery St Catchpole who didn't quite hear you."
"You two passed your Apparition tests, then?" Harry asked grumpily, crossing his arms.
"With distinction," Fred said proudly, holding up what looked like a long, flesh-colored piece of string.
"It would have taken you exactly thirty seconds longer to just walk up the bloody stairs," Ron muttered.
"Time is Galleons, little brother," Fred countered smoothly.
"Maybe," Lucifer's deep, velvet voice cut through the sibling hacker, causing both twins to instantly freeze. He hadn't shifted his position against the wall, but his dark eyes were fixed on them with a chilling clarity. "But if I hadn't recognized the specific magical frequency of your 'Apparition', you both would have been dead the exact millisecond you materialized in this room."
Fred's smile faltered, a sudden chill running directly down his spine. He looked at Lucifer's relaxed posture and instinctively swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat prickle at the back of his neck.
He realized with terrifying certainty that he had just been moments away from an untimely end. "Oh. Hello there, Lucifer."
"You're able to hide your physical presence extremely well," George commented, his bravado wavering slightly as he took a cautious half-step away from the wardrobe.
"Well, thank you," Lucifer said, his lips curling into a sharp, knowing smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Anyway, Harry," Fred said, rapidly changing the subject to shake off the dread, "you're interfering with the reception. 'Extendable Ears, see. We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs in the kitchen."
"You want to be remarkably careful," Ron said, staring fixedly at the string. "If Mum catches sight of one of those things again..."
"It's entirely worth the risk, mate. That's a major meeting they're having down there right now," George said, eagerly trying to get over the near-death warning.
The bedroom door opened a second later with a soft creak, and a long mane of vibrant red hair appeared in the gap. "Oh, hello, Harry," Ginny said brightly, her face lighting up. "I thought I heard your voice echoing up the stairs."
She stepped inside, turning her gaze directly to the twins. "It's a complete no-go with the Extendable Ears, boys. She's gone and put an 'Imperturbable Charm' on the kitchen door."
"How on earth do you know that?" George asked, his face looking instantly crestfallen.
"Tonks told me exactly how to find out," Ginny explained, a small smirk on her face. "You just chuck common objects at the door, and if they physically can't make contact, the wood has been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs, and they just soar away from the frame in mid-air. There's absolutely no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap."
Fred heaved a deep, theatrical sigh, rolling up the flesh-colored string. "Shame... I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to lately."
"Snape?" Harry asked quickly, his resentment flaring again. "Is he here?"
"Yeah," George said, carefully closing the bedroom door and sliding down to sit on one of the empty beds. Fred and Ginny followed suit, crowding onto the mattress. "He's currently giving a direct report to the Order. Top secret, and apparently very important."
"Git..." Fred muttered idly.
"He's lucky to be alive and able to give that report at all," Lucifer noted from his corner, his voice dangerously smooth.
"Yeah, we heard you almost permanently disassembled him at the end of last year," George said, looking up at Lucifer with an expression that almost sounded as though he wished the boy had gone through with it.
"Bill doesn't like him either," Ginny revealed, shifting the focus.
"Bill's here?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing. "I thought he was working for Gringotts in Egypt?"
"He applied for a regular desk job so he could come home and work directly for the Order," Fred explained. "He says he deeply misses the ancient tombs, but," a wide, mischievous smirk spread across his face, "there are definitely compensations..."
Lucifer knew exactly what Fred's smirk was getting at, his mind instantly cataloging the girls from the tournament. "You mean Fleur Delacour, right?"
"He gets it in one!" George shouted in mock celebration, pointing a finger at Lucifer. "Yeah, she's taken up a traineeship at Gringotts to 'eemprove 'er Eeenglish,' and Bill's been helping her extensively with her private lessons."
"Charlie's in the Order too," George continued, "but he's still stationed in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign witches and wizards brought into the alliance as possible, so Charlie's trying to make useful contacts on his days off."
"Couldn't Percy do that from his office?" Harry asked.
It was apparently the absolute wrong question to ask. Instantly, all of the Weasley siblings exchanged darkly significant, heavy looks. Hermione, who had already been thoroughly briefed on the family disaster, shifted uncomfortably against Lucifer's side.
"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy's name in front of Mum and Dad," Ron warned Harry and Lucifer in a tense, hushed voice.
"Why?" Lucifer asked, his interest slightly piqued by the sudden shift in energy.
"Because every single time Percy's name is brought up, Dad violently breaks whatever object he's currently holding, and Mum bursts into floods of tears," Fred said grimly.
"It's been completely awful around the house," Ginny added sadly, looking down at her shoes.
"Personally, I think we're well shut of him," George said, an uncharacteristically ugly, bitter look washing over his features.
"What exactly happened?" Harry demanded, housing the deep rift.
"Percy and Dad had a massive row," Fred said. "I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that in my entire life. It's normally Mum who does all the shouting..."
"It happened during the very first week back after the term ended," Ron explained, his voice low. "We were just about to pack up and come here to Grimmauld Place. Percy came home and smugly told us he'd been promoted."
"You're kidding?" Harry asked in disbelief. "After the Crouch mess?"
"Let me guess... he's officially become Cornelius Fudge's designated bitch boy, hasn't he?" Lucifer asked dryly.
The blunt phrasing earned him a sharp, playful smack to his arm from Hermione, though her lips twitched with a suppressed smile.
"And again, he gets it in one," Fred chuckled slightly, shaking his head.
"We were all completely surprised," George said, leaning forward. "Because Percy got into a massive load of trouble regarding Barty Crouch. There was an official Ministry inquiry and everything. They stated that Percy absolutely ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior immediately. But you know what Percy is like—Crouch left him in temporary charge, and he wasn't about to complain or ruin his path."
"Well, under normal circumstances, a low-level wizard wouldn't be promoted after a political disaster like that; he would have been summarily fired," Lucifer reasoned, his analytical mind slicing through the Ministry's transparency. "Unless... the promotion was a calculated move to keep direct tabs on his own family and Dumbledore?"
George stared at him for a long, quiet second, an odd, unsettled look passing over his face. "You've really got to stop doing that, mate... it's kind of scary how fast you calculate these things."
"Wait, is that actually why they promoted him?" Harry asked, his jaw tightening.
"We were wondering about the logistics at first, but we hadn't come to any concrete conclusion until the row," Ron said, clearly eager to keep a normal conversation flowing now that Harry had stopped screaming at him. "He came home looking really pleased with himself... even more insufferably pleased than usual, if you can even imagine that—and told Dad he'd been offered a personal position right in Fudge's own office. I think he expected Dad to be all impressed and proud."
"Only Dad wasn't," Fred said grimly.
"Did Mr Weasley realize what Lucifer just pointed out?" Harry asked.
"I think so," Fred nodded. "Because apparently Fudge has been storming around the upper levels of the Ministry like a lunatic, strictly checking that absolutely nobody is having any secret contact with Albus Dumbledore."
"He's doing a banger of a job managing the public safety, isn't he?" Lucifer said dryly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"That was my exact thought when I realized just how many Ministry officials were covertly operating inside the Order," Hermione noted, looking at Harry.
"Yeah, see, Dumbledore's name is absolute mud with the Ministry these days," George explained. "They all think he's just creating unnecessary trouble and throwing the public into a panic by insisting You-Know-Who has returned."
"Dad says Fudge has made it entirely clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can go ahead and clear out their desks immediately," Ron said building up the tune.
"The real trouble is, Fudge heavily suspects Dad," Fred added, his brow furrowing. "He knows Dad's always been friendly with Dumbledore, and the Minister has always thought he's a bit of a weirdo anyway because of his obsession with Muggle artifacts."
"So is that exactly when your Dad suspected Percy was only given his position to spy on you all?" Harry asked. When all the Weasley siblings nodded in perfect unison, he let out a low, grim whistle. "I bet Percy absolutely loved that accusation."
Ron let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "He went completely berserk, mate. He said—well, he said a load of terrible stuff to Dad's face. He shouted that he's been having to constantly struggle against his lousy public reputation ever since he joined the Ministry.... He told Dad, he has absolutely no ambition, and that's the exact reason our family has always been—you know—not had a lot of money, I mean—"
"What?" Harry asked, his voice thick with disbelief at Percy's cruelty.
Lucifer remained leaning against the damp wall, his fingers casually tracing the silver links of the sapphire necklace around his throat. He looked at the angry, defensive expressions on the Weasleys' faces, a cynical thought crossing his mind. 'I wonder if any of them actually secretly agree with Percy's assessment of their father's lack of ambition... they are probably just far too afraid of their mother's wrath to ever admit it aloud.'
xxxxx
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