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Author: Hank Story: Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: WIP Reviews: 14 Words: 126,113
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my new beta, Magnolia Mama, in appreciation of all her hard work. Once again, I would like to thank my pre-beta, Nancy, and Promethean Alchemist for the Brit-pick and comments. I would also like to thank all of those who have reviewed -- your comments and encouragement are greatly appreciated.
"Ginny, are you all right?" Hermione asked as she came up to her in the corridor. She was headed downstairs to get a cup of tea and perhaps a little breakfast if Mrs. Weasley had put some out already. It was a bit early in the morning, but then Hermione was an early riser. "You look as if you've seen a ghost." Ginny shivered at Hermione's comment. "I just might have," she said sleepily. "What's going on?" "Well," began Ginny a bit self-consciously, "it seems that ever since we had that talk about Harry, I've been dreaming about a little boy crying himself to sleep in the cupboard underneath a staircase. It's always the same dream, and I have it at least once a night." "That's strange," Hermione said quietly. "It gets stranger," continued Ginny. "When the dream starts, I'm in this horrid Muggle house, and I make my way to the staircase as if I know where I'm going. Once I get to the stairs, I just pass through the wall into the cupboard. Then I see a little boy crying. It's the most pitiable scene and I want to hold him and comfort him, but I can't. It's as if I'm seeing it from the point of view of a ghost." "Hmmm...." Hermione thought about the psychological implications of Ginny's dream. It couldn't be a prophecy because everything the dream dealt with was in the past. It seemed to Hermione that Ginny's subconscious was on overdrive. "Have you ever been to Privet Drive?" she asked, wanting to dig a little deeper into the meaning behind Ginny's dream. "No." Hermione screwed up her brow in concentration as she continued to ponder what Ginny had said. "Well, I've got to get a move on," Ginny said. "I'm going to be late for work if I don't get out of here soon." "We can talk about it later, if you want," replied Hermione. "Thanks." A slight smile came over Ginny's face. "Maybe tonight, if you've got the time." "Sure," said Hermione. "Oh, don't forget, Ron and I are coming to Diagon Alley today to search for a birthday present for Harry. Will you be able to get away for a while?" "Yes," Ginny answered. "Fred's promised to cover for me while I'm gone. What time are you coming?" "Depends on how soon Ron wakes up!" Ginny grinned. "I'll expect you around lunch then," she said as she headed toward the bathroom. Hermione laughed, then headed toward the stairs once again. Her thoughts returned to Ginny's dream as she walked into the kitchen. She wondered if the dream represented some sort of unconscious desire to comfort Harry, with the ghost aspect of it reflecting Ginny's inability to act upon that desire. Hermione shook her head in frustration. Freudian psychology had never been a favorite study of hers; she put it in the same category as Divination. As she poured herself a cup of tea, she made up her mind to just let Ginny talk about it when she was ready. Perhaps allowing her to air her thoughts would help resolve the dream. She was distracted from her musings when Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen with a basket of fresh eggs and offered to make her an omelet, an offer she gladly accepted. Hermione spent the next couple of hours eating breakfast and pleasantly chatting with Mrs. Weasley, who continued to question her about Majorca. Ginny joined them for a few minutes, downing a cup of tea and grabbing some toast and a box of lunch before Flooing over to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Hermione was disappointed that she couldn't spend more time talking to her, but given the Weasleys' financial situation, it was a good thing Ginny had a job to go to. After Ginny left, Hermione's thoughts turned to Ron. She wondered how anyone could sleep for such a long time. Just as she was debating whether or not to go upstairs and bang on his door to wake him up, she heard the patter of feet coming into the kitchen. She turned to see who it was, hoping that Ron was finally up. "You'd better get ready," Hermione said with a smirk at the pyjama-clad vision of Ron that appeared in front of her at the breakfast table. "What for?" muttered Ron, perplexed that Hermione should want to go anywhere this early in the morning. "We're supposed to meet Ginny in Diagon Alley today, remember? Harry's birthday is coming up and we need to get him a present. I thought perhaps this year we could go in together and buy him something extra-special." Ron nodded absentmindedly, vaguely remembering that he had talked to Hermione about going to Diagon Alley to get Harry's presents yesterday. It was too early in the morning for him to start thinking just yet. "Jolly good," he muttered as he sat down and poured himself a cup of tea and filled it with sugar. As he reached for the toast, he noticed Hermione was chattering at him again, something about meeting Ginny during her lunch break so she could go with them. "Sounds like a winner to me," he mumbled, his brain still addled by sleep. "We can Floo directly to Fred and George's shop and meet her there." "Oh!" exclaimed Hermione, excited at the thought. "I had completely forgotten about that." Ron stared at Hermione for a moment, wondering how in Merlin's name she could have forgotten about Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, especially with Ginny working there all summer long. He shook his head and chalked it up as a Hermione thing, remembering that she never had shown much interest in things that went bang or sprayed dung everywhere, and turned his attention to the plate of food that his mother dropped in front of him. "Thanks, Mum," Ron said just prior to shoving a piece of toast into his mouth. He ate quickly, not paying any attention to the conversation between his mother and Hermione, which had turned back to Majorca. After finishing, he excused himself and headed back upstairs to wash up and change into proper clothes for the trip to Diagon Alley. He winced as he looked into the mirror, wishing he had something other than hand-me-downs to wear, especially since he was going with Hermione. It wouldn't have mattered if it were Harry or Ginny or one of his brothers, but when it came to Hermione, Ron just wished he could do better. Realising that wishing would do him no good, he turned from the mirror and headed back downstairs, where he found Hermione comfortably ensconced in an overstuffed chair by the fire. "Ready?" asked Ron as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Ready as I'll ever be," sighed Hermione as she closed her book and got out of the chair. She swallowed nervously as she approached Ron. Travel by Floo was not something she enjoyed. "You first," said Ron as he pulled the bowl of Floo powder off the mantel and offered it to Hermione. Hermione took a pinch of the powder and threw it into the fire, causing the flames to turn bright green. "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," she called out loudly and distinctly. She jumped into the fire before she could give it a second thought and felt herself whirling around as she went from grate to grate to grate. She was expelled unceremoniously at the last grate and barely managed to catch herself and stay upright when she left the fireplace. She pulled her wand out and pointed it at herself. "Scourgify," she commanded, and in a flash of light all of the soot covering her robes, face, and hair vanished. The sound of someone tumbling out onto the floor behind her brought her attention back to the fireplace. She smiled as she saw Ron pick himself off the floor, muttering something about hating travel by Floo. She pointed her wand at him and used the Cleaning Spell once more. "Thanks," Ron said as he stopped brushing the soot off his clothing. "Where are we?" asked Hermione. She surveyed the room where they had landed. It appeared to be a storage room. Boxes with strange labels and markings were piled as high as the ceiling against two of the walls. The only light came from a small, barred window over a closed rolltop desk. "This is the back storeroom," Ron said as he took Hermione's hand. "Come on, I'll show you how to get to the front." Ron and Hermione strolled down a long dark corridor that hinted that the building might have been magically enlarged. They passed several other small storerooms along with a rather large, unutilised kitchen, still full of cookware and dry foodstuffs. At the end of the corridor Ron opened a curtained door, allowing first Hermione and then himself to pass into the shop area. "Hello, George," said Ron when he saw his brothers. He ignored Fred for the moment since he was dealing with a customer. "Hello, Ron," said George. He stood behind the counter next to Fred, who was in the process of completing a sale. "Hello, Hermione." "Morning, George," replied Hermione as she looked around the store. It took her eyes a few seconds to get used to the light, but when they did, it seemed obvious to her that the shop had once been a cafe. The tables and chairs were gone, likely transfigured into the barrels that held what little stock of fireworks Fred and George had left, along with several variations of Headless Hats, Extendable Ears, and other large Wheezes she had never seen before. In display cases that formerly housed cakes, chocolates, and biscuits, an eye-pleasing assortment of Skiving Snackboxes, Canary Cremes and other edible Wheezes were arranged, all packaged in fancy boxes as though they were a selection of the finest candies. A few frames hung on the walls, but instead of art they held obnoxious advertisements for new Wheezes. The rest of the space not otherwise occupied by display cases or barrels was covered with boxes similar to the ones in the back storeroom. In some areas of the shop the boxes were piled haphasardly all the way to the ceiling. "Here you are," said Fred cheerfully as he handed the bag over to a plump young witch with a little boy tugging at her dress, begging her to allow him to hold the bag containing all the fireworks they had purchased. "And here's a little something for you, young man," he added as he handed a lolly to the child. "Thank you, Mr. Wheezy," said the little boy as he quietened down. "You're welcome," replied Fred as he smiled at the little boy. "Cheers," he added, waving goodbye as the witch and her son left the store. A bell tinkled merrily as the door slammed shut. "I'd think twice before I tasted that lolly if I were that kid," commented Ron as he looked through a large, plate-glass window and watched the witch and the child walk away, expecting the child to suddenly turn purple, blow steam out his ears, or some other nonsense. "Now Ron," countered Fred, "we treat our customers much better than our siblings. We want them to enjoy the thrill of making mayhem, not suffer from it." "Besides," added George, "that's what family is for. Testing new Wheezes." "Speaking of which --" began Fred. "No," said Ron forcefully, cutting Fred off before he could tempt him. "Suit yourself," Fred replied. "Just don't complain to us when you have no spending money." Ron scowled at his brother, not happy at being reminded that his brothers now had much more money than he did. "Isn't this place a bit large for a startup?" asked Hermione. Fred and George had as much floor space as Zonko's, possibly even more. "Yes, it is a bit larger than we need at the moment," replied Fred, "but that's the reason why we chose this location. We're planning to grow our product line by at least five-fold prior to the end of the year, and we're also looking at branching into the retail end of the trade. For instance, we've found a seamstress who manufactures invisibility cloaks and we've given her an order for as many as she can ship. We're hoping to get five in the first shipment, but that may be pushing things." "Aren't those rather expensive?" quipped Ron. "Yes," replied Fred in a serious tone that was rarely ever heard, "but we feel there's a market for high-end Wheezes, and we're looking at possibly filling it. If we're going to do this, we'll need the room to grow. We're also looking into creating either copies or new models of the Marauder's Map if we can ever figure out how it works. Can't you just imagine the sort of mischief a Hogwarts student might get into with a Marauder's Map and an invisibility cloak?" Ron nodded, remembering how much trouble he and Harry had got into with those two items. "Yes, I can well imagine," he commented dryly. He heard Hermione snicker next to him, but didn't say anything more. Seeing the look Fred gave him, Ron decided to change the subject. "So, where's Ginny?" "She's gone out for more supplies," answered George. "As if you don't have enough already," commented Ron. "These supplies are for manufacturing our fireworks," replied Fred matter-of-factly. "We had to purchase them in bulk since we're manufacturing large quantities of them, not, of course, that you would know it by the amount of stock in the store. We've got enough backorders to keep us working night and day for the next six months." "It's not easy being a manufacturer and a retailer," added George, "but the cost advantages are giving us an excellent competitive edge. Take Zonko's, for instance. They're primarily a retailer -- everything in their shop, they either buy from wholesalers or directly from the manufacturer. That means that they have to make a profit, the wholesaler has to make a profit, and the manufacturer has to make a profit. By making our fireworks ourselves, we can cut out all the middlemen and offer a superiour product for a lower price." "And in the meantime, you end up working yourselves to death," commented Ron. "Ah, ickle Ronniekins," Fred said, "that's the price one pays to run a startup. We'll be branching out into retail as well, but we're also planning to go into the high-end market, as I've already mentioned. The profit margins are better and we'll get a greater return for our investment." "And we won't have to work as hard," added George, with a nod toward Ron. "Oh, look, Ron," exclaimed Hermione excitedly as she pointed at the large plate-glass window which faced Diagon Alley. Ron frowned as he squinted his eyes; the incoming light was a bit bright. As his eyes adjusted to the glare, he saw 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' written backwards on the window in beautiful gold lettering. In front of the window, inside the shop, a golden platter was suspended magically. It held four different types of firecrackers and rotated slowly. As each firecracker came to the window, a miniature version of its effects appeared above it, much to the delight of the crowd of small children and Hogwarts students who were outside pressing their noses against the glass, watching as each of the firecrackers was displayed in turn. On either side of the platter a small collection of Wheezes were displayed in a tasteful arrangement. "That's a nice window display," commented Hermione. "It looks much better from outside," said Fred. "It's hard to see the firecracker burst charms against all that sunlight." "That was Ginny's doing," said George. "She's rather good at stuff like that. She selected the boxes we use to package the different Wheezes in, and set up all the stock in the display cases." "She's got a good head for money, too," added Fred. "She runs the store while we're in the back catching up with production." Ron and Hermione both flinched at the sounds of loud explosions coming from the back of the store, much like the twins' old room at the Burrow but significantly louder. "Methinks the next batch of pyrotechnics is ready," said George as he excused himself and headed toward the back of the shop. "A bit plain, isn't it?" commented Ron as he looked about the store. "I know, ickle Ronniekins," said Fred, "but there hasn't been any time to give the place that distinctive Weasley touch. We hadn't really planned to blow all of our stock at Hogwarts, but then again, who'd have thought getting back at Umbridge would turn out to be such an excellent marketing opportunity? That was the first time we previewed our fireworks and ever since, we've had backorders from Hogwarts students coming out our ears. Anyway, give us five or six months and you won't recognize the place." "They'll probably burn it to the ground by then," muttered Ron to Hermione. "I heard that, little brother," said Fred merrily. "Actually, it would probably be an improvement," he agreed, "but until we get better established, this will have to do." The tinkling of a bell distracted Fred from Ron and Hermione. He smiled as Ginny walked through the door, heavily laden with parcels and bags. "Let me help." Fred quickly went over and relieved her of several of the parcels. "Thanks." She sat the remaining bags on the counter. "Medicamentum Saturae was out of rattlesnake venom, but Mr. Thibault assured me that they would have some in stock by next Friday at the latest." Fred frowned, but said nothing and went to work opening the bags and parcels Ginny had brought, checking their contents. "You didn't go down Knockturn Alley, did you?" demanded Ron in an overprotective fashion. "Don't worry, Ron," replied Ginny. "Hagrid was with me." "What was Hagrid doing here?" asked Hermione. "He had to get some flesh-eating slug repellant for Professor Sprout," replied Ginny. "So, are you two ready to do some shopping?" "Yes," replied Hermione quickly, eager for an outing on Diagon Alley. "Fred, will you be okay watching the front?" asked Ginny. "Yeah, go on Ginny," replied Fred as he continued opening parcels and checking on Ginny's purchases. "Say, is this gunpowder fresh? The last batch wasn't, you know, and it made the product extremely unstable. Bloody things almost blew up in our faces." "Mr. Thibault promised that this batch was fresh," replied Ginny. "He said he made a special run into Muggle London for it. Anything else?" "Nothing that can't wait until you get back," replied Fred cheerfully as he continued looking through Ginny's purchases. "Gunpowder?" asked Hermione, an odd look on her face. "Yeah," replied Ginny, holding the door open for Ron and her friend. "What are they using gunpowder for?" asked Hermione. "No idea," replied Ginny. "Probably some new kind of firecracker." "What's gumpowder?" asked Ron as they walked out into the street. "Gunpowder," corrected Hermione. "It's a Muggle chemical that explodes when ignited. It's used in Muggle firecrackers and in guns." "What are guns?" asked Ron. Hermione sighed loudly. "Ron, you really should take Muggle Studies," commented Ginny. "Why bother when I've got Hermione?" replied Ron. He shrugged at Ginny and then smiled at Hermione. "So, what is a gun?" "A gun is a sort of Muggle wand that is used to kill either animals or people," replied Hermione. Ron gave Hermione a startled look. "Muggles have a wand that can perform the Avada Kedavra?" "Of course," replied Hermione, forgetting how difficult it is in the wizarding world to accomplish what a gun can do. "We Muggles aren't helpless, you know," she added. "Only problem is just about anyone can use one." "Even a Squib like Filch?" asked Ron. "Yes," replied Hermione impatiently. "Bloody hell." "So, where should we start?" asked Hermione. "Flourish and Blotts?" Typical Hermione, thought Ron, who was disappointed with her predictability but decided not to comment on it as he was still digesting the news that Muggles had a wand capable of the Avada Kedavra. "Okay." Hermione looked at Ginny, who also gave her okay, then led the way to Flourish and Blotts. She wasn't really sure if they would find anything for Harry there, but since she always seemed to start her shopping trips to Diagon Alley in Flourish and Blotts she supposed she was doing it out of habit. Later on, as she finished looking over the stacks, she realized that there was really nothing in the shop that she wanted to get Harry for his birthday. Professor Lupin had already given him the best set of defence against the Dark Arts books they had and the Room of Requirement seemed to have all the rest, so she decided they should go looking somewhere else. "What about Quality Quidditch Supplies?" asked Ron as they strolled out of Flourish and Blotts into the bright sunshine that illuminated all of Diagon Alley. "No," replied Hermione thoughtfully. "I've already given him a good broom maintenance kit, and even if we could afford it, nobody's come out with a better broom than the Firebolt." "True," replied Ron, rather startled that Hermione was up on the latest in racing brooms. "Well, what about Zonko's? Maybe we could find something for Harry in there." "Don't bother getting Harry anything from Zonko's," said Ginny as she noticed Ron looking to head in that direction. "Fred and George are preparing an enormous parcel of Wheezes for him." Ron sighed. "So what's next?" he asked, not knowing what to do. "Let's just keep looking and see if anything comes up," said Hermione as she tried to cheer up Ron and decide what to do next at the same time. After a few minutes of walking, Hermione found herself in a section of Diagon Alley that she had never had the opportunity to explore. The alley narrowed significantly and the businesses, which were mixed in among residential dwellings, appeared to become shabbier and dodgier the further down they walked. They strolled past pawn shops, second-hand wand shops, a greengrocer's with a selection of fruits the likes of which Hermione had never seen, a jeweler's shop, an estate agent's shop, a couple of restaurants and a pub or two, but nothing that piqued her interest. Hermione was about to give up and suggest that they head back to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes when she saw a black wooden sign in the shape of an open book hanging off a very narrow building just a bit further down the alley. As they came closer, she saw the words 'The Scrivner' done in neat golden lettering across the face of the sign with the words 'Founded in 1516' centered below in smaller script. Intrigued, she stopped to look at the store. 'The Scrivner -- specializing in rare and collectable books' was etched across the glass in the entrance door. Hermione smiled, always eager to look into another bookstore, and opened the door. "Let's look in here for a few minutes," she said excitedly. Ron groaned, not eager to be dragged into another bookstore, but followed Hermione nonetheless. He took the door from her and held it open so Ginny could go through in front of him. As he entered, he wondered why Hermione had been so excited. Inside, it was a shabby little place and the floor beneath his feet creaked and complained with every step he took. The whole store was not much more than an overly wide aisle about twenty feet long, with dark wooden bookcases on both sides filled nearly to bursting with books. The aisle ended in a bookcase as well. The proprietor, who smiled warmly when they entered, was a polished-looking older wizard with shoulder length salt-and-pepper hair that curled in at the ends and a short beard. He wore expensive, but old-fashioned, clothing. On his nose sat a pair of gold wire-rimmed glasses, behind which Ron could see a pair of clear blue eyes that twinkled much like Dumbledore's did. He sat on a tall stool behind an ancient, ornate till which rested on top of a small glass display case bearing several volumes, all of which looked to be extremely old. Next to the stool was an open narrow door, which led to a tiny office. Ron shook his head, wondering why Hermione had to bother with this place. Flourish and Blotts was much larger and had a nicer and newer selection of books. As his attention turned back to Hermione and Ginny, he saw that they were eagerly poring over a section of books marked 'Biographies'. Thinking he might as well make himself useful, he turned and studied the selection of books on his side of the aisle. As he did, he noticed an empty section of the bookcase closed off by a pair of locked glass doors. Looking closer, he saw a small sign bearing the inscription: 'These books have Invisibility Spells on them. Please ask for assistance'. Ron shook his head once more and thought an invisible book was the last thing Harry needed for his birthday. As Ron continued to look over the bookcase, he noticed a section titled 'Defence Against the Dark Arts'. He moved toward the selection and began inspecting it carefully, thinking Harry might be interested in one of these books. The selection wasn't large, and Ron noted with disappointment that Harry already either owned the books or that the Room of Requirement had a copy. One of the books, he noticed, had been pushed back and was out of sight. Curious, he carefully pulled the book forward to take a look at it. "Blimey," muttered Ron in an astonished fashion as he saw the title, Constant Vigilance, and the author's name, Alastor Moody, embossed in gold lettering on the spine. "Will you get a load of this," muttered Ron loudly to himself as he laughed and pulled the large tome from the shelf. "What did you find, Ron?" asked Hermione as she turned away from the biography of Albus Dumbledore she and Ginny were looking over. "Look, it's a book on defence against the Dark Arts by old Mad-Eye himself," replied Ron as he handed it over to Hermione, who began to inspect it. The first thing Hermione noticed about the book was its weight. She almost dropped it when Ron handed it off easily to her. The next thing she noticed was that it was a very stark book, bound in black leather with a matte finish. The only gilding evident were the title and the author's name, printed in Roman-style lettering on the upper quarter of the spine, and the gilding on the edges of the pages to protect them from dust. It seemed to her to be more of a textbook than a collectible volume, although the level of wear on the book didn't seem to indicate that it had ever been used. Hermione sat down on a small wooden chair that had appeared out of nowhere and opened the book. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ginny stooping down on one knee to look on as she turned to the title page. On the page opposite Hermione noticed a wizard's photograph of the author, showing him as a handsome young man with an air about him that reminded her immediately of Percy. Below the portrait was a copyright date of 1935 and no further information, indicating to Hermione that this was a first edition. After turning to the next page, she found the table of contents and scanned over it critically. As she continued perusing the list of chapters, she realised that Constant Vigilance was a much more comprehensive work than she had ever seen before, with most of the information directed at the advanced Auror level. "This looks rather interesting," commented Hermione to Ginny. Ginny nodded silently in agreement. Her curiosity piqued, Hermione leafed through some of the chapters. The instructions on the use of the spells were extremely well documented. Animated drawings showed the reader how to handle the wand for the various spells. Complete descriptions of the spells abounded, explaining in detail how to use the spell, its strengths and weaknesses, and when best to utilise it or not against Dark magic. Other diagrammes showed methods of attack and defence against various foes including Dark wizards, trolls, giants, dragons, and various other dangerous magical beasts. "Ron, this is phenomenal," Hermione said as she finished her evaluation and closed the book. "This is just what Harry needs to bring our D. A. training up to the next level." Ron, who had in the meantime gone back to looking over the books on his side of the aisle, turned his attention to Hermione. "How much is it?" he asked. "Twenty Galleons," she said a bit sheepishly. Ron swallowed. "That's a bit more than what we've got." "Don't worry," Ginny said. "I'll go in for the difference. How much do you need?" "Erm, eight Galleons," muttered Hermione, wondering if Ginny could afford that much. "Not a problem." Ginny pulled a small leather bag out of her robes. "Fred and George have been rather generous with my wages." She pulled out eight of the golden coins and handed them to Hermione. Ron noticed that the bag seemed much lighter after Ginny had pulled the coins out and felt sorry for his sister. "Ginny, I'll pay you back," he said, not really knowing how he was going to do it. Nightmarish visions of having to sell himself to Fred and George for the testing of new Wheezes filled his head. "No, Ron. I want to contribute to Harry's birthday present. He's my friend, too," Ginny said almost possessively. Ron gave Hermione a look. When she only shrugged in return he put it out of his mind, grateful that they were going to be able to purchase the book for Harry and he wouldn't have to repay Ginny the difference. "Thanks," he said as he breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn't have to become a guinea pig for his brothers. "You're welcome." Ron and Ginny followed Hermione to the small display case to purchase the book. "Did you find what you were looking for?" asked the old wizard with a smile. "Yes, thank you," replied Hermione with a satisfied smile on her face. She handed the book to the wizard. "Well, I must say," he said, "you three have certainly made an excellent choice. That particular copy of Constant Vigilance turned up a couple of days ago. I've only put it out this morning. I haven't seen a copy in years. It actually used to be one of the manuals used for training Aurors until the Ministry of Magic decided it was too advanced. As a matter of fact, I've heard tales that the work is so advanced that the Ministry is looking into possibly confiscating all existing copies still in private hands. If they do, use the Vanishing Book Spell on page 1417 to keep the book out of sight. It's a personal spell that will allow only the book's owner to see it. Hmm, that's probably why I haven't seen too many of them floating around," he added thoughtfully. "Everybody who has a copy probably has it hidden by now." "Well, we're very happy to have found it," said Hermione, making polite conversation with the wizard. "It's a birthday present for a friend of ours who wants to become an Auror." She was careful to leave out the fact that she was hoping Harry would use it to train them to a much higher level. "An Auror, eh? Well, he should certainly like this book. It was written by one of their best. Is there anything else I can help you with? I've got a wonderful selection of works covering defence against the Dark Arts," added the wizard, "but you've already got the best of the lot. What about a work on spells or perhaps a witch or wizard's biography?" "Oh, I'd love to," said Hermione wistfully, "but I'm afraid we've spent all of our money." "And then some," groaned Ron. "All right, then," said the wizard as he placed the book in a plain brown bag and gave the trio a smile. "Come back soon." "We will," promised Hermione as they headed out of the little shop. "That was bloody expensive," Ron muttered as the three of them walked down the crowded street. "Yes, but think of what Harry can do with this book," answered Hermione. "Matter of fact, we can probably get a head start. Since Moody is watching the Burrow, I just bet he'd be willing to teach us some of this." "That's not a bad idea," said Ginny. "This way we'll be ready to help Harry with D. A. lessons next term and he wouldn't have to do everything by himself." "Good point," Ron said. "I'll see you two later," Ginny said. "I've got to get back to work." "Thanks for helping foot the bill," said Hermione. "That was really generous of you." "You're welcome." Ginny smiled at Hermione in embarrassment and disappeared into the crowd. "Where to next?" asked Ron. "Do you still have enough money for ice cream?" asked Hermione. "Only just." "Let's go to Florean Fortescue's before we head home." "Excellent suggestion," said Ron as he reached for Hermione's hand and the two of them headed over for the ice cream parlour. ***** The aroma of cooking filled the Burrow when Moody limped through the front door. Mrs. Weasley greeted him warmly and then quickly went to herd her children to the table for dinner. Mr. Weasley was already gone, dragged to an early night duty assignment guarding the home of a lesser Ministry official. Moody sighed at the thought of the Ministry of Magic's idiotic reaction to Voldemort, but as he thought on it some more he realised there might be a method to Cornelius Fudge's madness. Voldemort had been attacking members and suspected members of the Order of the Phoenix, not the high Ministry officials that Fudge was having his Aurors guard so carefully, or public areas such as Diagon Alley, which Fudge was also careful to have heavily guarded. The mass hysteria that had swept over the wizarding world might just have provided a useful cover for Fudge to operate under. By ignoring Dumbledore's pleas for help and assigning suspected members of the Order to night duty, Fudge had critically weakened their ability to respond to Voldemort. Moody sighed once again as he hung his travelling cloak and his hat on a peg by the door and wondered if perhaps Fudge had taken a page out of Voldemort's playbook and was allowing the Order and the Death Eaters to fight it out while he remained untouched on the sidelines. The pain in his knee distracted Moody from his thoughts as he hobbled to the table and sat down. He massaged his knee carefully and then, feeling a bit better, leant back comfortably in his chair. His disposition improved a bit when he saw Ron and Hermione came into the kitchen holding hands. "Mr. Moody," began Hermione excitedly as she took her seat at the big table in the Burrow's kitchen, "we found an old textbook that you wrote and we were wondering if you would teach us from it." Moody's eyebrows lifted. "Which one?" "Constant Vigilance," replied Hermione. "You've got to be kidding me," Moody said. "Why, I haven't seen a spare copy of that book in years. May I?" Hermione twisted around in her chair and pointed her wand at the stairs. "Accio Constant Vigilance," she commanded. In a moment, the great black volume hurtled down the stairs and flew into Hermione's waiting hands. She stood up and handed it across the table to Moody. Moody's hands brushed the cover gently and he turned the book over to examine the gilding on the spine, his magical eye riveted to the tome. A satisfied look came across his face as it appeared that he'd decided the volume was genuine. He then leant back a bit, placing the book in his lap and opening it reverently. "Best book I ever wrote," he muttered as he flipped the pages toward the front. He grimaced when he came to the picture of himself. "Guess I should have that updated," he muttered. "I'm a bit uglier than I used to be." Hermione gave Moody an odd look. In all of her searches of the library at Hogwarts, she had never come across anything written by him. "You wrote more than one book?" she asked. "Yes," Moody said as he continued to leaf through the book. "Most of them were Auror training manuals published in the tens, twenties, and thirties, all of which are long out of print. You were right lucky to have found this copy. I was told the Ministry of Magic destroyed all of the copies they were using for training manuals. Some rubbish about Constant Vigilance being too advanced, and they didn't want to sell them as surplus lest some of the books end up in the hands of Death Eaters. Hell, I've even heard that the Ministry plans to confiscate copies of this book that are in private hands." He shut the book carefully and passed it back to Hermione. "Take good care of that book. The information in its pages has saved my life many a time." "Well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," Hermione said. "I was wondering if you would agree to teach us the defence tactics in this book." "There's no way I can teach you everything in that book in one short summer," replied Moody in a surprisingly warm voice, "however, that book was designed to be self-taught. For example, if you touch your wand to a diagramme of the wand movements for a particular incantation, the book will sound the proper pronunciation. If you would like, you could pick out sections to study during the day and I could test you on them at night." Hermione's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, that would be wonderful," she said, but then her face fell. "What's wrong?" asked Moody, noticing her sudden change in attitude. "We bought the book as a birthday present for Harry." "That's all right," replied Moody. "I've got a spare copy you three can borrow to work out of." "You'd let us borrow your copy?" asked Hermione. "Of course," replied Moody gruffly. "A book doesn't do anyone any good when it sits on a shelf and nobody reads it, especially a book like that. Now mind you, it's not as fancy as that copy, but it's got the same information between the covers. By the way, where did you get that copy?" "The Scrivner," replied Hermione. Moody grunted. "How much did old Marley charge you?" "Twenty Galleons," Hermione said uncomfortably. A surprised look came across Moody's face. "Who picked it out of the stacks?" "I did," Ron said. Moody laughed. "Marley must have self-adjusting price tags. Be glad that Ron found it and not Harry. The original edition of that book cost over 100 Galleons each and that was back in 1935." He shook his head in amazement. "Old Marley always did have a soft spot for poor wizards. He started out poor himself, you know. Inherited The Scrivner from his dad at the age of sixteen and by the time he was finished, he had his own publishing house. It was his house that published Constant Vigilance. Matter of fact, I wouldn't be surprised if that wasn't his own copy." "What's he doing running an old bookshop?" wondered Ron. "The Scrivner's been in his family since 1516," replied Moody. "It's where he started. He sold his publishing house to Henry Flourish years ago when he got too old to run it. He would have passed it on to his grandson, but William was killed in the first war against Voldemort. Good man he was. He told me he wanted to become an Auror and have some excitement before he settled down to the family business." Moody sighed. "I suppose Marley just can't give up on The Scrivner. They'll probably take him out feet first if he has anything to say about it." ***** Ron stirred as the noisy hooting slowly awakened him. He huddled underneath his covers, trying to escape the noise, but the owl continued to demand his attention. Unwillingly, he opened one eye and stared at the large, snowy owl perched on his windowsill. Hedwig's white feathers gleamed eerily in the bright moonlight, making her look more like a ghost than a living owl. "Oh, it's you," Ron muttered. He opened his other eye and looked at his clock. The hand was pointed at 'Too Early to Wake Up'. Agreeing with his clock, he rolled out of bed and went to the window. He untied the letter from Hedwig's foot and opened it. Hedwig remained perched on the windowsill, staring at him. "I suppose you want an owl treat," said Ron. Hedwig hooted softly at him. Shaking his head, Ron strolled over to Pig's cage and took a couple of owl treats for Hedwig. Seeing the owl was placated, Ron unrolled the scroll and read: Dear Ron, Dumbledore says I can't come. Regards, Harry "Bloody hell, not again," muttered Ron. "Don't leave yet," he commanded as he looked up from the letter at Hedwig, who was finishing her last owl treat. "I've got to send a reply back to Harry." He went back to Pig's small cage and pulled out a cup of food and a cup of water and brought them to the windowsill for Hedwig, who promptly took a long drink when Ron set down the cup of water. Finished taking care of Harry's owl, Ron sat down at his desk to pen a reply to Harry as quickly as possible. After rummaging through his desk for a minute, he finally found a clean piece of parchment, which he quickly spread out in front of him. As he finally decided on what to say, Ron wrote hastily on the parchment. It was short, but given the circumstances it would have to do. He rolled the letter up and tied a piece of string around it before getting up from his desk and going to the window, where Hedwig was still perched. "Thanks for waiting, Hedwig," murmured Ron as he tied the letter to her leg. Hedwig replied with a dignified hoot and then turned to face the open window. She hopped out, spreading her wings and soaring in a deep, graceful dive that took her almost to the ground. She flapped her wings to gain altitude and quickly passed from Ron's sight. "Show off," said Ron as he watched Hedwig disappear. "That bloody owl and Harry are perfect for each other," he muttered under his breath as he turned away from the window to head downstairs for an earlier-than-normal breakfast. As he passed the bed he pulled on his dressing gown and shoved Harry's letter into one of the pockets. "Ron," Ginny asked, heading up the stairs, "have you heard anything from Harry lately?" "Yeah. He told me Dumbledore said he couldn't come." "Bloody hell." "Yeah. I'm off to tell Mum about it." "Poor Harry," Ginny said softly, her face sad. Ron looked at his sister for a moment, careful that she didn't catch him doing it, and wondered. He had noticed that she was beginning to take a bit of interest in Harry again. Maybe this time, he thought, as a slight smile came across his face. "He'll be all right, Ginny," said Ron softly as he passed her. "I hope so," she replied. Ron fingered the letter as he went down the stairs and into the kitchen. He hoped his mum wouldn't take this lying down. Somebody needed to watch out for Harry, as it was becoming a certainty that Dumbledore was not. Ron caught the aroma of baking as he entered the kitchen. He smiled when he saw his mother busily at work making a birthday cake for Harry. It was already iced and she was getting ready to add some lettering to wish Harry a happy birthday. "Hello, Ron," said Mrs. Weasley affectionately. "Fresh scones are over there if you'd like one." She nodded her head at the rack where a couple dozen were cooling and looked back at the cake, trying to decide where to start the lettering. "Erm, Mum?" Mrs. Weasley turned her attention back to Ron. She could tell by the sound of his voice that he had something important to discuss with her. "What is it, dear?" she asked softly. "Harry sent me another letter," said Ron. "He said Dumbledore's refused him permission to come again." "Let me see it," said Mrs. Weasley. She took the scroll from Ron and unrolled it, frowning almost immediately as she saw that Harry had just scribbled one line. "Blast it," she muttered. "What in the world does Albus think he's doing?!" She shook her head and wiped her hands off on her cheery apron, leaving a dusty trail of flour on it. She walked over to one of the cupboards and pulled out a violently red, slim box of stationary. Ron grimaced. "Erm, Mum, do you really think you should send a Howler to Professor Dumbledore?" he asked nervously. "Well, what do you think?" she demanded. "Erm, well, ah --" he stuttered, stunned at what his mother was about to do. "Or has that Prefect's badge gone to your head just like it did Percy's?" she added, the bitter sarcasm vividly evident in her voice. "No!" he said adamantly, affronted that his mother would even suggest such a thing. "All right then," Mrs. Weasley said as she took a quill to the Howler and began writing. Ron read it over her shoulder, grimacing once again at the content as he did so. It was just as if she were writing to Fred and George all over again. Satisfied with what she wrote, Mrs. Weasley folded the paper and placed it into the envelope. Pointing her wand at the finished letter, she muttered a quick incantation for maximum volume. "That should wake him up," she said as her eyes scanned the rafters looking for Errol. Seeing him on the other side of the kitchen, asleep on one of the main rafters, she grabbed a broom and swatted him off his perch. Ron flinched as the old bird hit the ground with an ungraceful plop. Mrs. Weasley scooped him up abruptly and tied the Howler to his leg. Staring him straight in the eyes, she instructed him to deliver the letter to Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She then took the old bird over to the window and threw him out the open side so he wouldn't risk hitting the pane on the way out. That done, she casually asked, "Scone, Ron?" as she picked up a plate of freshly baked scones and offered it to him. "Thanks, Mum," mumbled Ron, still dazed that his mother had sent the headmaster a Howler. "Mm, delicious," he said through the food in his mouth. Mrs. Weasley smiled at Ron. "Glad you like it," she said and promptly went back to her baking. Grateful to be momentarily out from under his mother's attention, Ron hastily left the kitchen. "So what did Mum say?" asked Ginny as she spied Ron coming out of the kitchen. She was getting ready to Floo over to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Ron grimaced. "She sent Professor Dumbledore a Howler," he replied, still not quite believing it. Ginny burst into giggles as she thought about the headmaster receiving a Howler from her mum. "Serves him right," she said as she finally managed to gain control over her laughter. "Do you think Dumbledore will allow Harry to come?" Ron shook his head. "I don't know. This isn't looking good." ***** Dumbledore stared at the violently red envelope in his hands. It had been quite a while since he had received a Howler. He grimaced at the sight of Molly Weasley's scrawl on the envelope. He could tell from the look of her writing that she was furious. Knowing that putting it off would just make it worse, Dumbledore opened the letter and braced himself. Albus Dumbledore, What the bloody hell do you think you're doing confining Harry to that dreadful place all summer long? How can you send him to live with those barbarians, especially after he watched his godfather die, for Merlin's sake? Do you realize that his last letter to Ron was only one line long? What are you trying to do to that poor boy? Make him suicidal? If you don't get him out of there, the only institution he will be fit to attend at the end of summer will be St. Mungo's! I want you to give Harry permission to come to the Burrow for the remainder of the summer. With Alastor and Fred and George here nights, we've got more than enough protection to watch out for Harry -- and don't you even try to tell me otherwise. I am impatiently awaiting your positive reply, Molly Weasley Dumbledore sighed as he watched Molly's Howler shred itself onto his desk. He felt bad for Harry as it was, but he didn't have time to worry about him. Voldemort had declared war. Slowly but surely he was eliminating members of the Order of the Phoenix who would be least missed by Cornelius Fudge. Twice Dumbledore had requested help from Fudge to provide protection for Order members and twice Fudge had turned him down. Instead, all available Aurors, former Aurors, and members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement -- especially, it seemed, those who were suspected of being in the Order -- had been assigned to protect the families of prominent ministers, thus leaving their families vulnerable to attack. Dumbledore shook his head, deciding that Harry would have to stay put. There was no way the Order could spare the personnel to make sure he was safe. He wasn't pleased, but it was out of his hands. He brushed the Howler scraps off his desk, grateful that the house elves would clear it away during the night so he wouldn't have to look at it again. He picked up his quill and began to write a reply to Mrs. Weasley. ***** Harry looked up from his studies when he heard the whisper of owl wings and the clatter of talons on his windowsill. He was surprised to see that Hedwig had returned so quickly and with a letter attached to her leg. He stretched as he rose from the floor and then smiled at Hedwig. He stroked her feathers gently and removed the letter from her leg. "Thank you, Hedwig," he said warmly. Hedwig hooted and took off for her cage. Harry checked that there was enough food and water and then opened the letter. He frowned as he read the first line; by the time he had finished, a dark scowl marred his features. Dear Harry, I hate to say this, but maybe it's for the best. Things aren't going too smoothly over here at the moment. The Ministry has Dad hopping all day long at work and now, due to all the attacks, they've got him on rotating night duty covering the homes of some big shots. Dad had to ask Dumbledore for help to cover the Burrow. Somehow Dumbledore convinced Mad-Eye Moody to stay and watch over us at night. It's nice knowing he's here, but I wish Dad were here as well. Mum persuaded Fred and George to move back into their old quarters, so they're here at night, too. Of course, given that they hadn't had any of Mum's cooking in quite a while, it didn't take much convincing for them. Mum, Ginny, Hermione, and I watch over the place in the daytime. Keep your chin up. As soon as I finish this letter, I'm going down and talk to Mum again. Maybe she can convince Dumbledore to let you come. By the way, I've passed your letter on to Hermione as you asked. Take care, Ron "At least if I were there, I could help," muttered Harry under his breath. He crumpled the letter up and angrily threw it into his bin, where it burst into flames. He was angry at being stuck at the Dursleys, once again separated from his friends. The news that they needed help covering the Burrow only made things worse as he fretted about his inability to help them. Mindful of the continued presence of Voldemort along the edge of his consciousness, Harry purposefully drained his mind of emotion and allowed a sense of apathy to cloud his thoughts once again, closing himself off to the Dark wizard. He wondered for a moment why Snape had never taught him to fill his mind with apathy, and then wondered whether or not ceasing to care about everything might be dangerous. Hedwig launched herself from her cage, distracting him from his thoughts as he watched her fly out of the window into the brightening morning sky. The night was now gone and once again he had failed to get even a little sleep. No matter, thought Harry, as he pushed the jumble of thoughts out of his head. He got up and headed out of his room, determined to get some breakfast before starting on the yard. As he passed Dudley's room he saw once again that the door had been shut tight. The snoring he heard from within meant that Dudley was still asleep and probably would be for another several hours, not that anything would change when he awakened. Dudley would remain in his room with his door locked shut until dinnertime, when he would trot out quickly to join his mother and father to go out to eat. It had been the same all summer. Harry shook his head and descended the staircase rapidly. As he approached the kitchen, he heard the chink of china and the rustle of newspaper, indicating that Uncle Vernon was having his morning coffee prior to leaving for work. Harry saw his uncle lower the paper and scowl at him on his entry into the kitchen. He ignored his uncle and stooped to pull a frying pan out of a cupboard. After putting the pan on the stove, he pulled a box of eggs, a slab of bacon, and a stick of butter from the refrigerator. He quickly went about scrambling the eggs and then frying up the bacon as his uncle continued to scowl at him. Harry breathed in deeply the aroma of cooking food, allowing himself to imagine that he was in Mrs. Weasley's kitchen instead of Privet Drive. He smiled for a moment at his memories of the Burrow, but was quickly brought back to reality as he noticed his uncle's continuing scowl. "Would you like some?" asked Harry, wondering why his uncle was still scowling at him. For a moment, Harry thought his uncle might actually take him up on his offer, but then Vernon's expression hardened. "I suppose I'm going to have to hire someone to do the painting this summer," he said as he glared at Harry. "I'm not painting," replied Harry. "Ingrate," muttered Uncle Vernon angrily as he refolded his newspaper and stood up from his chair. "After all we've done for you, the least you could do is paint the house." "I'm not painting this summer," replied Harry resolutely. "Useless freeloader," muttered Uncle Vernon angrily as he stared down Harry. "You know tomorrow's my birthday, don't you?" asked Harry. "And?" demanded his uncle with a maniacal gleam in his eyes. "What do you expect from us?" Harry sighed and turned his attention back to the sizzling bacon. "Nothing," he replied sadly. "And that's all you're going to get," shouted Uncle Vernon, slamming his folded paper on the kitchen table to make his point. Harry ignored his uncle's stare as he willed his mind to become clouded by apathy, refusing to allow himself to be provoked to anger. He absentmindedly scraped his bacon out of the skillet onto his plate in a pointed attempt to ignore his uncle. He heard his uncle's footfalls as the heavy-set man finally turned and left the kitchen, angrily bustling to the front door, which he slammed shut rather loudly on exiting. Harry felt a tear run down his face as once again he wondered what it was like to have a real family. He wiped it away quickly and sat down to breakfast, desperately wishing he was at the Burrow. ***** Molly smiled as she sent the last of the dinner platters to the table with a flick of her wand. Everyone was seated at the table except her husband, who was at the moment assigned the duty of guarding Cornelius Fudge's residence. She was looking forward to getting off her feet and joining the conversation until the hoot of an owl distracted her. A large brown owl sat on the windowsill just above the kitchen sink, its leg already extended. She pulled a bit of meat from her cutting board and gave it to the owl before taking the letter. It hooted in gratitude and then quickly took to the air, anxious to be back to wherever it came from. Molly looked at the letter and saw that it came from Dumbledore. She tore it open quickly and read the letter. Dear Molly, I'm sorry, but I cannot allow Harry to come to stay with you. While I realize that the Burrow has a great deal of protection, it is insufficient for Harry's needs. Also, I do not wish to subject you and your family to the risk that an extended visit from Harry might entail. I have told Harry that he may to go to Grimmauld Place if he feels he must escape the confines of Privet Drive. It's not as secure as I would like, but I feel Grimmauld Place would provide sufficient security for Harry. Warmest regards, Albus Dumbledore "Bloody idiot!" shouted Molly angrily as she read Dumbledore's letter. "What's wrong?" asked Moody, who had stopped talking with Fred and George on hearing Mrs. Weasley scream. Too upset for words, she handed the parchment to Moody, who quickly read it and frowned. "What's wrong?" demanded Ron as the rest of the table looked on in mutual concern. Moody allowed both his hand and the letter it held fall to the table. "Dumbledore's not going to allow Harry to come to the Burrow this summer," he replied. "Damn." "What are we going to do?" Mrs. Weasley asked, quickly wiping away the tears that had appeared in the corners of her eyes. "Let me talk to Albus," Moody said after a moment's thought. "I'm not sure it'll do any good, but you never know." The dinner passed quietly, the strained silence only broken when Mrs. Weasley checked to see if anyone needed seconds. Everyone shook their heads 'no'; even Ron appeared to have lost his appetite. Mrs. Weasley just picked at her food, staring at her plate and occasionally trying a bite as if to see whether or not she had done a good job cooking. Each time she did this, she swallowed a bit, scowled, and continued to play with the food on her plate. "So how's the 'job' getting along?" queried Moody as he stared at the twins, one eye on Fred and the other on George. He had decided to check up on the status, though he expected nothing further, of their part in the preparations for the defence of the Burrow. "We've had a few misfires," replied Fred with a wink, "but that was early on." "Yeah," chimed in George. "We traced the problem down to some stale raw materials. I think we've got the problem licked now. We should have some product ready for you to test in a few more days. Stuff's touchy, you know. You can't rush it." Moody chuckled menacingly, pleased with the revelation that one more part of the Burrow's defences was coming together. Loud sobbing distracted him from the conversation. Recognizing Mrs. Weasley's voice, Moody looked at the twins and whispered, "We'll talk later," knowing they needed to give their mother a break. Both Fred and George nodded, all traces of mischief gone from their eyes. They stood up and made to clear the table off, but Ginny brushed them aside. "I'll do it," she said. "You two take Mr. Moody into the parlour." Shrugging, Fred motioned for Moody to come along with him and George. "In a moment, boys," replied Moody. He walked over to Mrs. Weasley and laid a hand on her shoulder, and grimaced when he felt her shake with sorrow. Ron came over and sat on the other side of his mother and placed his arm on her back warmly, rubbing up and down in a gentle motion. Seeing that Ron was calming Mrs. Weasley down a bit, Moody beckoned Hermione to come over and take the other side. That done, Moody stood up and headed to the pantry, dodging the flying dinner plates that Ginny was sending to the sink with an efficiency that would have made her mother proud. "Ginny, where does your mum keep the potions?" he asked softly so as not to disturb her concentration. "Top shelf," replied Ginny, without taking her eyes off the plates flying furiously into the sink. "Wingardium Leviosa," muttered Moody as he swished and flicked his wand at himself. He laughed when he saw Ginny look at him hovering in front of the pantry. "Can't climb stools anymore," he said. As he turned his attention back to the pantry, he raised himself a bit more to reach the top shelf. Unable to see anything in the gloom, he pulled another wand out of his pocket. "Lumos," he grunted, and stood it up on its end so it would illuminate the entire top shelf, freeing his hand to sort through the potions. He sorted through the bottles until he finally found what he wanted: a Sleeping Draught. He doused the lit wand, stuffed it into his pocket, and lowered himself to the floor. He then pulled a mug out of the cupboard and poured a dose of the Sleeping Draught into it. After re-corking the vial, he pulled a hip flask out of another pocket and added a generous splash of its contents into the mug, taking time to allow it to mix carefully. Ginny sniffed the air curiously as the potion bubbled and fizzed. "Don't tell me you've got whiskey in there?" she asked hesitantly. Moody grunted. "I never drink the water lassie, it rusts pipes and fish..." Realising he was talking to Mrs. Weasley's one and only daughter, Moody stopped suddenly. "Erm, never mind," he said glumly and went back to the table. "Molly, drink this," he said as he handed the mug to Mrs. Weasley. "It will help you relax." Too upset to argue, she nodded and took a deep drink from the mug. She relaxed almost immediately and laid her head to rest on the table. Within a few moments, her ragged breathing had become soft and regular, and it was obvious to Moody that she had fallen asleep. "Ron, can you and Hermione get your mum to bed?" he asked. "Yes, sir." "All right, I'll leave her in your care then," he said as he left to catch up with Fred and George. When he entered the parlour, he saw the only light appeared to be coming from the fireplace. Fred and George sat next to each other on the settee, both of them uncharacteristically quiet and thoughtful. "I'll tell you what, boys," said Moody as he sat down in the scruffy armchair by the fire, "Why don't you two start the first watch. I've got somebody I need to have a talk with. If you need anything, just call me." "All right," replied Fred as he and George stood up. "How long do you think you'll need?" asked George. "Don't know," replied Moody. He watched Fred and George leave. He wasn't too happy about what he had to do, but he knew he had to do it. With a deep sigh, he heaved himself out of the chair and walked over to the fireplace. "Bloody ridiculous method of communication," he murmured under his breath as he pinched a bit of Floo powder and threw it into the fire. He shook his head. "Self-righteous bastards can't even make use of a highly functional and useful Muggle technology such as the telephone." He dropped to his one good knee, wincing in pain as his artificial leg stretched out flat behind him. "Albus! Albus Dumbledore, where in the bloody hell are you?" shouted Moody as he shoved his head into the fireplace. His head whirled around as it went from grate to grate, finally settling in one certain fireplace. After blinking a few times to clear the soot out of his eyes, Moody saw that it was indeed the fireplace in Dumbledore's office. "Alastor," answered a somewhat cheerful voice, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" "A pleasure is not what I would call this," griped Moody as he shifted his weight on his knee. "Albus, I need to know what the bloody hell you think you're doing keeping Potter at Privet Drive all summer long?" "Harry needs to be kept under the strictest protection and Privet Drive is the only place I can guarantee he'll be safe," replied Dumbledore. "Security at Grimmauld Place has been compromised by the loss of Kreacher, leaving me with no other choice." "That boy needs to be training, dammit, not hiding! How can you expect us to defeat Voldemort if we don't train up these youngsters?" "Indeed," replied Dumbledore as he stared down his friend. "Wait a minute. You're nutters if you think I'm taking that Defence Against the Dark Arts position again." "Your own words condemn you." "This discussion concerns one Harry Potter, not a teaching position at Hogwarts." "Alastor, please, I cannot allow Harry to come to the Burrow," Dumbledore insisted. "I don't have enough personnel available to ensure his protection. With all the attacks we've had, the Order is spread far too thin as it is. In addition, I've got to prepare for my trip to Paris to see if we can't raise support with the French Ministry. If we don't get help from somewhere, Voldemort will destroy us this time around for sure." "If you don't take care of Potter, you're definitely going to get us destroyed," retorted Moody. "Harry is taken care of," countered Dumbledore, "at least to the best of my abilities. As for the position, the job's still open and I suggest you take it if you don't want Fudge appointing another one of his lackeys to Hogwarts." Moody shook his head in disgust. "I never thought I'd live to see this day," he said angrily. "What day?" asked Dumbledore. "The day when Albus Dumbledore turned his back on a Hogwarts student." He stared down Dumbledore, but Dumbledore appeared to have been shocked into silence. Moody pulled his head out of the fire in disgust. "Bloody hell," he swore as he fell onto his side, massaging his good knee to get the feeling back into it. As he did, his conscience pricked him and he began thinking about what Dumbledore had said concerning Fudge placing another lackey at Hogwarts. Things had been so bad last year that the students had had to form an illegal club and train on their own. "Dammit," Moody said as he realised he wasn't going to be able to walk away from the job this time around.
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