"I know," Ron said in a low, tight voice, his jaw clenching as he recounted the final moments of the blowout. "And it got significantly worse from there. He openly told Dad that he was an absolute idiot to run around with Dumbledore. He said Dumbledore was heading for massive, irreversible trouble and that Dad was going to go right down with him. Percy told us he knew exactly where his loyalty lay, and he said it was strictly with the Ministry.... He shouted that if Mum and Dad were going to become bloody traitors to the Ministry, he was going to make sure everyone in authority knew about it. He told us he didn't belong to our family anymore." Then swallowed hard, looking over at the grimy window. "And he packed his bags that very same night and left. He's living somewhere here in London now."
"I have never once hidden my profound dislike for Percy, but I hope you don't mind me saying that the boy has gone completely fucking mental," Lucifer said, his tone dry and dripping with absolute disdain.
"No, we... we actually kind of agree with you," George said in a strained, uncharacteristically quiet voice, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Mum's been in a right state ever since," Ron added, shaking his head. "You know...constantly crying and stuff at the kitchen table. She actually went up to London a couple of weeks ago to try and personally talk to Percy at his new flat, but he slammed the front door right in her face. I don't even know what he does if he accidentally meets Dad at the Ministry during work. Ignores him completely, I suppose."
"But Percy 'must' know Voldemort is back," Harry said slowly, his voice low as he tried to process the scale of the betrayal. "He's not stupid. He must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything they have without absolute, concrete proof—"
"Yeah, well, your name got dragged right into the dead center of the row," Ron said abrasively, his anger directed entirely at his brother rather than Harry. "Percy explicitly said the only evidence for the entire claim was your word, and... I dunno... he shouted that he didn't think a teenage boy's word was good enough for the Ministry to act on."
"Percy takes every syllable printed in the 'Daily Prophet' very seriously," Hermione said tartly, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
Lucifer merely just smiled, a sharp, cynical tilt to his lips as he shook his head and said absolutely nothing. He had already thoroughly said his piece in the past about the fragile, gullible mortals who chose to believe everything printed in the 'Daily Prophet,' of the world, whether it was a poisoned article written by Rita Skeeter or not.
"What exactly are you talking about?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing as he looked between Hermione and Lucifer. "What is the paper saying?"
"Haven't... haven't you been getting the daily paper sent to your uncle's house?" Hermione asked, looking a bit blindsided by his sudden question.
"Yeah, I have!" Harry said hurriedly, his defensiveness flaring up.
"Have you actually been reading through it thoroughly?" she asked, her brown eyes narrowing slightly.
"Not cover to cover!" Harry muttered, shifting uncomfortably against the bedpost. "If they were going to report anything critical about Voldemort, it would be massive headline news on the front page, wouldn't it?"
"Well... that is the exact problem, Harry," Hermione explained, her tone remarkably patient as she tried to bridge the gap. "To actually pick up on what the 'Prophet' is doing to you, you would need to read the entire thing cover to cover. It's a couple of times a week that they deliberately mention your name—"
"But I would have seen a massive article—"
"Not if you've only been reading the front page, you wouldn't," She said, trying to make her her voice calm and steady. "I'm not talking about big, official articles. They just casually slip your name into the text, like you're some sort of standing joke."
"What do you—"
"It's quite nasty, actually," She said, her expression souring. "They're just actively building upon the malicious foundation Skeeter started last year during the Triwizard Tournament."
"She's not still writing for them, is she?" Harry asked warily, his green eyes darting around.
"Oh, no, she has kept her promise perfectly," She giggled with a brilliant, chilling smirk at the end.
"Not that she'd have any real, physical choice in the matter..." Lucifer added darkly, his fingers lightly brushing the sapphire links around his collar. He knew for a fact that the specific magic he had laced into her form would force her own hand to violently strangle her if she ever dared to touch a quill against his interests.
"But she successfully laid the foundation for exactly what the Ministry editors are trying to achieve now," Hermione finished.
"Which is 'what?" Harry asked impatiently, his frustration mounting.
"Okay, you remember how she wrote that you were constantly collapsing all over the place at school, and claiming your scar was hurting, and all that rubbish?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, they are writing about you now as though you're this utterly deluded, attention-seeking person who desperately thinks he's a great, tragic hero or something," Hermione said repulsively, a look of deep disgust on her face. "They keep slipping in snide, petty comments about you. If some completely far-fetched story appears in a report, they'll say something like 'a tale worthy of Harry Potter,' and if anyone has a funny accident or a minor injury, it's printed as 'let's hope he hasn't got a scar on his forehead or we'll be asked to worship him next'—"
"I don't want anyone to worship me!" Harry began hotly, his temper flaring again at the insult.
"You know that, I know that, and every single person in this room knows that, Harry," She spoke quickly, stepping forward to cut off his interruption, tired of being cut off herself. "But can't you see exactly what they are doing? They want to systematically turn you into someone nobody in the public will ever believe. Minister Fudge is entirely behind it, I'll bet anything. They want the average witches and wizards on the street... to think you're just some stupid, unstable boy who's a bit of a joke, who spins ridiculous tall stories because he loves being famous and wants to keep the attention going."
"I didn't ask for this—I didn't want any of this! 'Voldemort killed my parents!" Harry stuttered out, his voice cracking as the raw, suffocating reality of his life tore through his defenses. "I only got famous because he brutally murdered my entire family but couldn't kill me! Who on earth wants to be famous for that? Don't they think I'd rather it had never happened—"
"We 'know,' Harry," Ginny said earnestly from the bed, her voice full of genuine sympathy as she looked up at him.
Lucifer exhaled slowly, leaning his head back against the wood. The more he heard about these pathetic, low-level political smear campaigns, the more just tired he was getting of the entire bureaucracy. He hadn't been receiving the 'Prophet' at Lux because he flatly refused to spend a single copper Knut on a piece of trash media.
"And of course," Hermione continued, rallying her focus, "the editors didn't report a single word about the Dementors attacking you in Surrey. Someone in authority has explicitly told them to keep that incident quiet. That should have been a really massive story... an out-of-control Dementor wandering a Muggle neighborhood. They haven't even reported that you allegedly broke the 'International Statute of Secrecy' yet. We thought they would right away, since it would tie in so perfectly with this false image of you as some stupid, arrogant show-off.... We think they are simply biding their time until your formal hearing is over and you're expelled. Then they're really going to go to town on you in the press. But you're absolutely not going to be expelled, Harry. You shouldn't be, so long as they actually follow their own written laws."
Lucifer was entirely unable to stop the sharp, dark laugh that came tearing from his mouth that time, his eyes flashing with a cynical light. "A government that actually follows their own written laws... now that would be a true magical miracle."
Before anyone could counter his sarcasm, the sudden sound of heavy footsteps echoing from the hallway below entered their ears. The muffled chatter from the levels below abruptly ceased as doors began to unlatch, meaning that Order's top-secret meeting in the kitchen was finally over.
xxxxxxx
Fred and George gave the 'Extendable Ears' a sharp, practiced tug, gathering the flesh-colored strings into their hands, and Disapparated from the room with a double 'crack.'
Seconds later, Molly Weasley appeared in the bedroom doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. "The meeting's officially over, so you can all come down and have some dinner now. Everyone is absolutely dying to see you, Harry. Oh, and before I forget—who on earth left all those horrible Dungbombs piled right outside the kitchen door?"
"Crookshanks," Ginny said instantly, her face a mask of unblushingly innocent defiance. "He absolutely loves playing around with them."
"Oh," Molly said, her brow furrowing slightly as she accepted the blatant lie. "I thought it might have been Kreacher. He keeps doing odd, spiteful things like that around the corridors. Now don't forget to keep your voices down to an absolute whisper when you cross the Hall. Ginny, your hands are completely filthy, what have you been doing? Go and wash them before dinner, please?"
She grimaced playfully at them behind her mother's back and followed Molly out into the corridor.
Lucifer turned his attention back toward the narrow window as a swift shadow flew over the glass. He walked over to the sill, his boots clicking softly against the floorboards, and squinted through dusty, grimy pane. It was only when shadow passed over the window a second time that he recognized the silhouette of an owl. He unlatched frame and opened the window quickly, letting in a gust of damp London air. "Rowena?"
The massive eagle-owl glided gracefully through the gap. Lucifer moved smoothly out of her flight path as she flew into the room, flapping her wings before landing securely on a high shelf right beside Hedwig. "About time you actually got here."
She merely let out a low, dignified hoot, staring at him with her large, amber eyes.
"Who's Kreacher?" Harry asked after a quiet moment, looking between Ron and Hermione.
"The House-Elf who lives here," Ron answered, his face twisting into a grimace. "Absolute nutter. I've never met a single creature like him in my entire life."
"He is not a nutter, Ronald," Hermione shot back instantly, her defensiveness flaring up. "He might have a 'few' screws loose from being left completely alone in this dark house for so long, but he is not a nutter."
"His primary life ambition is literally to have his own head severed and mounted on a plaque on the wall right next to his dead mother, Hermione... 'He's a nutter," Ron deadpanned.
"Like I said, he was left entirely alone for the entire twelve years Sirius was locked away in Azkaban. Well... not completely alone, but he didn't have any real, living company..." She argued, throwing Ron a sharp glare. "Professor Dumbledore explicitly asked all of us to be remarkably kind to him, even if he's... exceptionally rough around the edges..."
"Easier said than done," Ron muttered, shaking his head. "Whatever. I am absolutely starving, let's just go."
"A house-elf mimicking the self-destructive tendencies of its pure-blood masters," Lucifer mused aloud, drawing the room's attention as he stepped away from window. "Fascinating. Though I suppose a plaque on the wall is an upgrade from serving tea to people whose existence he despises..."
Hermione offered him a small, warning look, but her eyes softened. Ron merely snorted, still too focused on his stomach to argue, and led the way straight out of the bedroom door.
Lucifer left the room last, stepping into the dim corridor right behind his girlfriend as they reached the landing. But before they could begin to descend the creaking stairs, he extended a hand, catching Hermione by her forearm. His touch was warm against her skin, a brief, reassuring in the dark hallway.
"Hold it..." he sharply whispered, his voice dropping into a barely audible register. "They're still congregating in the Hall... We might be able to catch a sliver of what they're saying."
The four of them leaned forward, looking cautiously over the dark wooden banisters. The gloomy, narrow hallway below was heavily packed with cloaked Witches and Wizards, including every single member of the guard that had just traveled alongside Lucifer and Harry from Surrey.
They were all standing in a tight perimeter, whispering excitedly together in hushed tones. In the very center of the gathering, Lucifer's eyes instantly locked onto the distinctly greasy, shoulder-length hair of Severus Snape.
He squinted, his jaw clenching as a dark aura flickered imperceptibly around his frame. He briefly thought about walking down there and permanently finishing violent disassembly he had started on the Potions Master at the end of last term. The man breathes too loudly for someone who relies entirely on Dumbledore's protection, Lucifer thought grimly, his knuckles whitening against the banister.
Suddenly, a thin piece of flesh-colored rope descended silently through the air right in front of their faces. They all looked up in unison to see Fred and George crouching on the landing above them, carefully lowering another 'Extendable Ear' toward the dense congregation of people below.
Lucifer reached out with two fingers, casually pinching the flesh-colored string just above Ron's head, completely halting its descent.
Fred and George peered over the upper banister, their eyes widening in sudden panic as Lucifer flashed them a mocking, razor-sharp grin from below. It was all for nought, however. Before magical device could drop low enough to catch a single sentence, the entire group began migrating toward the heavy front exit.
"Dammit," Lucifer heard Fred whisper irritably from above as he released his grip, allowing the flesh colored string to be rapidly reeled back up. The massive oak front door opened and snapped shut in the span of a single second.
"Snape never actually stays to eat here," Ron whispered quietly, letting out a massive breath of relief. "Thank Merlin for small mercies... c'mon."
"A pity," Lucifer murmured, his velvet voice dripping with a dangerous disappointment as they began descending the stairs. "I had a rather exquisite parting gift lined up for him. His posture has gotten entirely too arrogant over the summer."
Hermione nudged his shoulder with her own, her voice a sharp whisper. "Lucifer, please. No duelling in the corridors. We have enough mess to clean up tomorrow."
"I wasn't planning on duelling him," He whispered back, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he leaned slightly closer to her. "A duel implies he would have a chance to strike back."
They quietly navigated the rest of the stairs. Reaching the bottom, they saw Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and Molly Weasley working together to seal back the many heavy iron locks, bolts, and chains the front door possessed.
"We're eating all the way down in the basement kitchen tonight," Molly said, turning around to meet them at the base of the staircase. "If you'll all just tip-toe carefully across the hall—"
'Crash!~'
A violent, rattling din echoed from the shadows near the umbrella stand.
"Tonks!" Molly cried exasperatedly, her patience instantly snapping as she whipped her head around.
"I'm so sorry!" Tonks wailed from her flat-out position on the floor, her pink hair flashing in the dim light. "It's that stupid, oversized umbrella stand! That is officially the second time I'v—"
But the remainder of her apology was completely drowned out by a cataclysmic sound. A horrible, ear-splitting, blood curdling screech tore through the hallway, vibrating violently through Lucifer's ears. The moth-eaten velvet curtains they had passed earlier were suddenly flung wide open by an unseen force, revealing a life-sized portrait of an old woman in a black silk cap.
She was screaming at the top of her lungs as though she were being brutally tortured.
'That should be Walburga Black,' Lucifer thought, his knuckles tightening into fists. The painted woman was actively drooling, her painted eyes rolling wildly in her skull as the yellowing canvas skin of her face stretched taut with the sheer force of her screeching. All along the gloomy hallway behind them, other old portraits instantly awoke from the noise and began to yell and bark in an uncontrollable chain reaction.
Lucifer closed his eyes, gritting his teeth hard as a sharp spike of irritation flared in his chest. He clenched his hands, his body recoiling slightly as he lurched forward to withstand the deafening sensory assault, actively restraining himself from using an overpowered 'Silencio' to detonate the entire wall like he wanted. 'The lack of acoustic elegance in this house is offensive,' he thought, a dangerous throbbing settling behind his temples as the noise battered.
Lupin and Molly rushed forward immediately, grabbing the edges of the heavy velvet curtains to try and force them closed again, but the dark magic holding them open was too strong. The portrait screeched louder and louder, brandishing her clawed, painted hands at the teenagers as though she were going to physically tear them apart through the frame.
"FILTH! SCUM! BY-PRODUCTS OF DIRT AND VILENESS!" Walburga roared, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "HALF-BREEDS, MUTANTS, FREAKS, MUDBLOODS, BEGONE FROM THIS SACRED PLACE! HOW DARE YOU BEFOUL THE NOBLE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS—"
Tonks apologized over and over again in a frantic panic, simultaneously dragging the massive, heavy troll's leg back off the floor to clear the path. Recognizing that curtains were completely stuck, Molly abandoned her physical attempt to pull them shut. She marched aggressively down the corridor, her wand flashing in rapid succession as she cast localized 'Stunning Spells' directly into the secondary portraits, forcing them back into silence.
Suddenly, a heavy door at the end of the hall flew open, and a man with a remarkably familiar head of long, dark hair came charging out into the light. "Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut up!" Sirius Black roared at the top of his lungs, his face pale with fury as he sprinted forward and grabbed the curtain Molly had just abandoned.
The old woman's painted face blanched with a sudden, venomous hatred. "YOOOOOU!" She howled, her painted eyes popping nearly out of their sockets at the sight of her son. "BLOOD TRAITOR! ABOMINATION! SHAME OF MY FLESH!"
"I said, shut up!" Sirius roared again. With a stupendous, muscle-straining effort, he and Lupin threw their entire weight against the fabric, successfully forcing heavy velvet curtains back together until they clicked into place.
The old woman's frantic screeches were instantly cut off, and a heavy, ringing silence fell across the dark hallway. Panting slightly and sweeping a long strand of dark hair out of his eyes, Sirius turned around to face his godson. "Hello, Harry," he said grimly, trying to steady his breathing. "I see you've finally met my mother."
"Your—"
"My dear old mum, yeah," Sirius said, his nose scrunching up in profound disgust as he looked at the black drapery. "The Order has been trying to get her down from that wall for a whole month, but we think she explicitly put a 'Permanent Sticking Charm' on the entire back of the canvas before she died."
"I'm completely certain it's not that permanent," Lucifer said, his deep voice carrying a chillingly flat resonance as he stared at the curtains. He felt a sudden, dangerous urge to unleash a localized manifestation of 'Hell's fire' to incinerate the canvas, the wall, and the entire memory of the woman into absolute ash.
Sirius turned his grey eyes toward him, a faint, reckless spark of amusement flickering across his features. "Maybe you're exactly the sort we need to permanently remove her from the masonry, Morningstar. To be honest, I don't even care how you do it... I just want to see her gone. Well, come on, let's get downstairs into the kitchen quick, before all these other bloody portraits decide to wake up again."
"But... what exactly is a life-sized portrait of your mother doing in this hallway?" Harry asked, looking thoroughly bewildered by the dark layout.
"Isn't it completely obvious, Harry?" Lucifer asked smoothly as Sirius led them through a heavy door, stepping down onto a steep, narrow flight of worn stone steps. "This is the ancestral 'House of Black."
"He's right in one," Sirius said, his voice echoing slightly in the narrow stone stairwell. "This was my parents' house. But I guess the entire derelict structure is mine now, seeing as I am officially the last living male of the House of Black... well, sort of."
"What do you mean, sort of?" Harry asked, looking up at him as they reached the bottom.
"I'll explain the messy logistics of that another day," Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But seeing as the property legally belongs to me, I offered it directly to Albus Dumbledore to use as the official Headquarters for the 'Order of the Phoenix....' It's about the only useful thing I've actually been able to contribute to the war effort while being locked inside."
He stopped at the base of the stairs, turning around to face Harry in the dim, flickering torchlight. Without a single word of warning, he stepped forward and pulled the boy into a tight, fierce, protective hug.
"I am so incredibly sorry for leaving you there, Harry," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.
Lucifer stood quietly at the edge of the steps, watching as his friend tightly returned the embrace. In the low, uneven light of the basement landing, he could have sworn he saw a few quiet tears finally escape from the boy's eyes, the heavy defenses he had maintained all evening completely melting away in his godfather's arms.
Taking a small step sideways, his arm brushing against Hermione's shoulder in the cramped space. He leaned down slightly, his voice a low murmur meant only for her ears. "It seems our friend... finally 'found' a shoulder he doesn't have to shout at."
Hermione looked up at him, a soft, incredibly tender smile gracing her lips as she reached out, her fingers gently tangling with his for a brief second before pulling away as the hug ended. "He just needed his family, Lucifer, we all do."
He looked at their joined hands, his internal thoughts turning sharp. 'Family... a concept these mortals cling to with such desperate, beautiful fervor.' Then glanced back up at Sirius and Harry, his expression shifting into something genuinely respectful. "Well, Black," Lucifer said aloud, breaking the heavy silence with an easy, elegant tone. "Let's see what you have conjured for dinner... Flying across London has a rather tedious way of ruining one's appetite."
xxxxxxx
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