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Author: Falling Damps Story: A House Divided Rating: Young Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 2 Words: 17,438
The meal turned out much better than Alastor had expected, and several times he had to force a scowl onto his face just to make sure everyone knew that he wasn’t enjoying himself too much. All of the Weasleys, Hermione Granger, Black, Remus, Tonks, and Alastor squeezed together at the large table. Molly set Alastor down on the end next to one of the twins, and Tonks was across from him, squashed between Ginny Weasley and Remus, though she didn’t seem to mind - in fact, quite the opposite. Alastor was sure it must have been a trick of the dim kitchen lighting, but he could have sworn that her now bubble-gum pink hair was a shade brighter than it had been before, and she laughed and morphed her way through the whole meal. For once, no one seemed to want to talk about the war, so much of the conversation while they were eating was dominated by Quidditch. Soon into the gathering, they discovered that they represented fans of the Cannons, the Wasps, and the Arrows – and, in Hermione Granger’s case, no team at all. “How ‘bout you, Sirius, what’s your team?” Bill Weasley asked, leaning across the table. “Wasps,” Black grunted through a mouthful of food. “Aw, no!” Ron cried, looking shocked. “Everybody knows the Cannons are the best!” “Oh, Ron, don’t be stupid,” said Ginny, taking a dainty sip from her glass. “The Cannons are terrible, always will be. I’m sticking with the Arrows.” Black choked. “The Arrows! What could possibly possess you to root for the Arrows?” She turned on him, and the effect was almost comical: the slight girl with a long red braid staring down Sirius Black, notorious convict and a rather frightening-looking fellow. “I could say the same about you and the Wasps!” Tonks jumped in, winking at Ginny. “Well, I’m with you, Ginny. Appleby all the way!” She smiled sweetly at Black, who looked furious. One of the twins spoke up, “Professor Lupin, which team do you support?” Looking a bit caught off guard, Remus said, “The Arrows, of course.” Ginny and Tonks beamed. “Besides, we all know why Sirius supports the Wasps.” Alastor listened expectantly. “You know how Arrows fans used to shoot off real arrows into the air from the stands at their games?” Ten heads nodded. One head glared. Remus ignored him. “Well, in our fifth year, Sirius thought it would be funny to shoot off a bunch of arrows during a match with Slytherin. Of course, the arrows completely missed the Slytherins, but one particularly sharp one happened to fall down nearly on top of James… not to mention the one that stuck fast in the side of Madam Hooch’s broom and pinned her through her robes…“ There was a great howl of laughter. “Minerva suspected him, of course, but he protested so violently that he was a Wasps fan and would never do anything that would bring glory to the hated Arrows that he got off without detention. And he’s been stuck there ever since.” Alastor’s face was threatening a grin, but he realized it in time and forced a frown. Tonks caught his eye and flashed him a cheerful smile. “You weren’t such an angel yourself,” said Black a bit sulkily, though everyone knew he wasn’t really upset. “At least he was a prefect,” called Arthur from the other end of the table. “I don’t want to hear about prefects,” one of the twins declared. The other nodded darkly. Arthur froze, and Ron looked nervous. To Alastor, it seemed as though a heavy cloud had come from nowhere and settled over the table. He glanced surreptitiously at Molly, who had turned her face away and out of sight. Tonks, after looking uncomfortably around the table, said rather cheerily, “I was most certainly not a prefect.” Bill laughed, though it was a little forced. “I remember some of the tricks you and your Hufflepuff friends used to get up to. Weren’t you the ones behind the singing classroom?” “Yup,” Tonks said happily. “Singing room?” asked one of the twins, looking interested. Alastor let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, and the cloud passed. “I charmed Snape’s dungeon classroom to sing a song from a Muggle musical every time he went through the door.” “What song?” “Oh, you probably wouldn’t recognize it – my dad’s Muggle-born, so that’s how I knew it.” “Very appropriate lyrics, though,” Bill said with a grin. “Oh yes,” Tonks smiled wickedly and burst into off-key song. “I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gay!” Black snorted into his plate, and everybody laughed. After dinner, the group scattered to different parts of the house or to their own homes, leaving an unusual happy, lazy feeling pervading the Order’s headquarters. For the first time since he arrived at headquarters, the nearly constant thrum of dark magic seemed dulled. Alastor was on his way out when he felt a hand on his arm. Whirling around, his wand clenched in his fist, he saw only Tonks, who looked a bit taken aback. “Just me, Mad-Eye,” she said quietly. “I’m going to talk to Ginny now.” “Not without me, you’re not!” Alastor growled. “I thought you didn’t want to be around for it! Oh, I suppose you can watch through the wall if you really must.” Grumbling a bit, Alastor stationed himself in a chair by the wall so that he could see Tonks and Ginny talking in the other room. Ginny was sitting curled up on the floor, reading from a thin, dusty book when Tonks came in quietly, tripped on the edge of the old carpet, and fell on her knees. She swung her legs around in front of her and settled back calmly. “Wotcher, Ginny.” The girl smiled and put down the book. “Hey, Tonks.” “What’s going on?” “Just reading this,” she motioned to it vaguely, “but I’m not particularly interested. How’re you? You’re on assignment, right?” “Yeah,” Tonks nodded. “Can’t talk to you about it, though.” “I know,” Ginny said a bit grumpily. “No one can tell me anything, and I can’t even spy properly.” “How come?” “Well, Mum’s figured out about the Extendable Ears,” here Tonks nodded knowingly, “and so she’s taken to putting Imperturbable Charms on the doors, but she’s sneaky about it, and I can’t ever tell if one’s there or not until I try to get too close and she hears me.” “Well,” Tonks said, lowering her voice, “between you and me, I have found that when an object is thrown at an Imperturbable door, it simply soars away in the other direction.” “Really?” Ginny asked interestedly. “Yup,” said Tonks, and she winked. Ginny laughed. “There’s something else, though.” The girl was instantly serious. Surprising. “I’m a bit worried about Harry.” “Who isn’t?” Ginny said softly. “True,” Tonks said, running her hand absently over the thick carpet, “but I was thinking specifically about threats coming from inside Hogwarts.” “You mean, like students?” Ginny’s eyes were narrowed. “Yeah.” “We’re all keeping an eye on him, you know.” “What?” Ginny sat up a little straighter. “Ron and Hermione and Fred and George and I. We’re all going to stick close to him this year, make sure nothing goes wrong.” Tonks smiled. “That’s really good, actually. I wanted to ask you if you’d keep your eyes open for anything strange going on.” “I always do.” “I know. But if you see anything, no matter how insignificant, let me know, ok?” Ginny nodded, seemingly impressed with the gravity of the request. Tonks continued. “And, if I were to have a specific question about a particular Hogwarts student, do you think you could find the answer for me?” “Of course,” Ginny replied. “And I won’t talk about it… we won’t let anything happen to him, Tonks.” “I know you won’t,” she said, and, standing and waving good-bye, she left the room and headed for Alastor, who pulled up a chair for her next to him. “That was good,” he said reluctantly. And it looks like Ginny Weasley’s got a better head on her shoulders than you thought, Alastor… “Thanks,” she said. “Have you ever met him?” “Who?” “Harry.” “No,” Alastor said curtly. “I was in a trunk. But I think I spotted him across the Great Hall once.” Tonks seemed deep in thought. “I want to talk to him.” “Why?” “Besides that he’s the famous Boy-Who-Lived?” She smiled wryly. “There’s something about him that tugs on the hearts of everyone he knows. Remus, Ginny, Molly and Arthur, Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione, Sirius… they all have this unbelievable devotion to him. They love him, Mad-Eye, all of them…” Alastor considered her words – it was something he’d never really thought about before. It’s true… they do all love him… like a son, or a brother, or something else… is it just because of what he’s done, and what he’s going to do? Or is it something more? After a moment he gave voice to his thoughts. “D’you think it might just be because he got rid of Voldemort?” Tonks shook her head. “No, we all love him for that, I love him for that, even Fudge loves him for that, in his own way, but this is deeper. I can’t understand it, really. Maybe if I met him, talked to him for a while… even Percy, you know,” she said softly. “He’s sacrificing his life for the Order, but underneath it all, on some level he’s doing it for Harry…” Alastor sat back in his chair, running one gnarled hand through his wild hair. “I guess you’re right. This kind of loyalty is much deeper than simple gratitude and admiration. Maybe he’s just a symbol of everything that they want, or need.” “I don’t know. But there must be something special about him – more than his experiences with You-Know-Who – something special about his person, his soul…” She leaned forward, her chin in her hands, staring pensively at the wall in front of her as though willing that enigmatic Harry Potter to step right out of it. Alastor watched her in silence, saying nothing of the thoughts and memories that were now rushing, unchecked, through his mind. They sat that way for a long time; finally, with great effort, Alastor heaved himself up from the chair and walked down the deserted sleepy hallway. Just before Alastor Disapparated, he looked back at Tonks. She hadn’t moved. It seemed uncommonly dark in the street outside his house that night, though rationally Alastor knew that everything was the same as it had been when he’d left earlier in the day. Keeping his hand on his wand and his eye scanning 360 degrees, he walked carefully up to his door, listening to the soft click of his heel on the path. He stopped on the step, focusing his eye inside the house, checking for intruders, for any sign of anything out of place… then he performed the unlocking spells and stepped inside. The clicking of his heel suddenly stopped. “Damn,” he said. “Damn.” It was still silent. He had forgotten about the silencing spell gone awry in the events of the day, and now he chastised himself angrily as he realized that he was no closer to solving the problem than he’d been the night he cast the spell. Who might know about this sort of thing? Albus… too busy. Remus… he checked the time. It’s much too late to bother him about it. Emmeline Vance? She was always good with spells… But there was nothing he could do right now, and with a sinking feeling in his chest he realized he would have to spend the night in the silence. At first he tried to fill the silence with noise of his own making. He talked to himself, muttering quietly under his breath, hummed, even sang a bit until a fit of coughing forced him to stop. But his own voice only sounded even more vulnerable against the backdrop of unnatural, enforced quiet. He climbed into bed, the rustling sheets making no noise, the old mattress springs giving into his weight without their usual creaks of protest. Alastor’s magical eye was spinning out of control, trying to make up for the loss of hearing. He closed his eyes – they popped open again, and he looked around anxiously. Nothing. At one point, Circe flew past the one-way window just as he opened his eye a crack. His heart nearly gave out on the spot, and he threw himself out of bed, clutching his wand in the death-grip of one shaky hand. It was then that he gave up and went into the kitchen to make himself a drink, breathing heavily. “Morning,” Alastor grunted as he walked into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place rather early the next day. Tonks, slumped in her seat, mumbled something indistinct in response and rested her forehead on the table. “Tonks is not a morning person,” said Remus, holding a mug of steaming tea and looking a bit more alive. “Neither am I,” and I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, “but I’m here and ready to go, so she better wake up fast,” Alastor said, poking Tonks in the back. She squirmed a bit but sat up, yawning widely. “You should be glad I made it here at all at this hour,” she said groggily, trying her best to look awake, but failing miserably when she knuckled her eyes like a child. “Why on earth you would decide last night that you wanted to meet so early…” “Have some tea,” Remus said with a slight smile, pouring her a mug and sliding it across the table. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” He stood and stretched, massaging his shoulder, and he took himself and his tea into the other room, closing the door quietly behind him. Alastor collapsed in a chair next to Tonks. “Wake up,” he growled, poking her again sharply in the side. “We’ve got lots to do.” “I’m awake, I’m awake,” she said, blinking rapidly and reaching for her tea. “So damned early…” “Deal with it. I’ve been up for hours.” “You’re out of your mind.” She yawned again. “So, what? You said you had a plan for today…” “Yeah.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out their list, unfolding it several times and spreading it out on the table in front of them. Tonks obligingly slid her tea mug over a few inches to make room, sloshing a bit on the table. “I think we should check in on the Floo issue today.” “Today?” She took a sip of her tea, sputtering a bit. “Blech, too sweet! Remus always does that… okay. Well, I have Auror duty, afternoon shift, but my morning is open… I was going to sleep in, but since you’ve already taken care of that…” Alastor ignored her. “So you remember what we talked about?” She nodded. “Are you ready to go?” Alastor pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and put it on. He cleared his throat, feeling he ought to say a few words before they started. “Nymphadora, I want to make sure you understand the seriousness of our mission. We’ve been a bit relaxed so far,” he said reproachfully, “but, now that we’re really starting to act, it’s critical that we step it up and remember that we’re on official Order business.” She rolled her eyes sleepily. “Yeah, Mad-Eye, got it. And it’s Tonks, not Nymphadora.” Not feeling very reassured, Alastor watched as she stood up and walked out of the kitchen, yawning wildly. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder from the stairs. “I’m Apparating to the guest entrance.” Alastor followed her to the doorway, his heart pounding furiously. This is it, he thought to himself. First step to redemption. Don’t mess this up. Stick with the plan. Holding his breath, with the cries from his dreams echoing in his ears, he Disapparated. When he reappeared, holding the cloak tightly so it wouldn’t flutter during Apparition, he was standing next to a young blonde woman, dressed rather stylishly. He squinted… yep. There’s that funny little hoop earring. “Hey,” he whispered to the woman. “On your left.” She jumped. “Oooh, this Invisibility business is going to take some getting used to,” Tonks said with a short laugh. “Let’s go.” They squeezed into the dingy red telephone booth (“Mad-Eye, stop pushing! Oh, this is odd… I can’t see you at all…) and Tonks punched the buttons on the phone rather harder than necessary. “I hate this elevator,” she muttered under her breath, jiggling her foot uncomfortably. The welcome witch’s cool voice spoke. “Name?” “Elsha Howles, here to visit the Minister’s offices,” she said sweetly, pinning the silver badge to the front of her robes. The telephone box sank slowly into the ground. When the doors reopened, Tonks strode purposefully through the Ministry of Magic, barely stopping when she knocked into a thin man carrying a squealing black box. Alastor eyed it suspiciously, but he didn’t have time to focus inside it – following Tonks through the crowded halls and elevators was proving more difficult than he had anticipated, especially because he was trying not to bump into anyone in his cloak. She finally came to a stop in front of the Minister’s offices and bent over, pretending to fumble with her shoe. “Mad-Eye, you there?” she whispered. “Yeah,” he grunted irritably. He was out of breath and his neck was stiff from bending over under his cloak. Stupid invisibility cloaks… “Okay, wish me luck!” She straightened up and headed toward the offices. “Stick to the plan!” Alastor hissed frantically, but either she didn’t hear him or she didn’t respond. This could go so horribly wrong, he thought gloomily, heading after her with a small sigh and an invisible shake of his head. After dodging a tall woman who came sprinting down the hall, hotly pursued by four flying memos, Alastor caught up with Tonks, who was already talking to a young-looking man in ridiculously ornate robes. “… Howles, and I’d like to make an appointment to see the Minister.” The man squinted. “The Minister of Magic?” “Yes,” Tonks said rapturously. “I just – I’d just love to meet him, you know, speak with him. He’s such a role model for us all – his policies on the control of dangerous magical creatures, for example, and his firm stance for the truth… I just admire him so much!” She smiled disarmingly at the young man, who straightened his robes and grinned back like a fool. “Well, it’s not usually done, madam, but I’ll see what I can do…” His voice cracked ridiculously in the middle of his sentence, and Alastor had to stifle a snort. “Oh, thank you so much!” she smiled again. The man tried to slick back his hair but only succeeded in making it stick up on one side. “And when I come and visit him… how would I do that?” “You’d just come on in to his offices, ma’am.” “Oh,” she said, pouting a bit. “But wouldn’t it be so much easier if I could just Floo over?” “Floo? Straight into the Minister’s office? I’m sorry, madam, but that’s not possible.” Alastor perked up, listening hard. Tonks frowned slightly. “Are you sure?” “Positive,” the man said, smoothing the front of his robes again. “I’m in charge of the office security, you know. No one can Floo into the Minister’s office, not even the Minister himself. The only Floo access is outgoing – that’s the way it was built.” “I see,” she said. “Well, isn’t there any way the security could be overridden? I’m sure you would be able to manage that.” “The only person with that level of clearance would be the director of the Floo Authority, Madam Edgecombe, you know.” Gotcha, Alastor thought, noting the woman’s name. “Ah. Well, thanks for your time,” Tonks said. “Not at all. Should I take your name? And where I can reach you?” He waggled an eyebrow suggestively. “Er… no thanks,” Tonks said. “I’ll just come back later.” She turned and walked away from the young man, who stared at her goofily until she was around the corner. The minute she was out of sight, she clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled. “Well, that was easy!” Alastor came up next to her. “Yeah. Idiot. Giving out information like that, what a fool. If the whole Ministry is that loose-lipped, we’re in serious trouble…” “Oh, come on, Mad-Eye, he didn’t say anything too terrible, just gave us the name of a superior.” Alastor was thinking hard. “If that kid’s information is right, then we need to keep a close eye on Edgecombe. But he could have been wrong.” Tonks shook her head. “I don’t think so. He knew what he was talking about, despite the rest of his silliness. But I’ll double-check with Percy just to be sure.” Alastor’s back was starting to twinge, and he was certainly tired of crouching under the cloak, though he did not want to be heard complaining. “Let’s go.” _____________________________________________________________ They regrouped at Grimmauld Place, in the small upstairs room they had found so useful before. Alastor, nerves still on edge from earlier, cast multiple Imperturbable Charms on the door and paced the room, his steps thudding unevenly across the floor. Tonks morphed back into her more usual appearance, and after she sent a quick letter off to Weasley, they spent a while going over the events at the Ministry, sharing their ideas and opinions, which – interestingly enough – were quite similar. Alastor tried to sit down, but after a minute he was back on his feet, walking off his adrenaline. For her part, Tonks seemed unreasonably drained by the whole experience. Almost an hour later, when Weasley’s reply arrived, written on crisp parchment in a neat, narrow cursive, Tonks read his response out loud from her chair. “Tonks – Yes, I know the man you spoke with. His name is Darius Berkeley, and yes, he is in charge of office security. Not a particularly bright man – but any information he gave you would have been accurate. Especially if you were morphed blonde. I don’t believe anyone else knows about the Minister’s curious meetings apart from me. As his personal assistant, it is my job to turn away anyone who comes looking for him while he is in those meetings, with the standard excuse that “the Minister is currently occupied.” Despite his position of authority, Mr. Berkeley certainly would not be aware that anyone was Floo-ing in. - P.W.” Finished, she folded the parchment carefully and stowed it in her pocket. “Sounds like we need to check on Madam Edgecombe.” “Yeah,” Alastor agreed. “How soon’s that Polyjuice going to be ready?” “About a month. I’m not brewing it, I’d probably spill it all over the place, but I’ve got Sirius on it.” “You told him!” Alastor whirled on her, aghast. “What happened to secrecy? Confidentiality? You’re playing around with our assignment!” “Relax, Mad-Eye,” Tonks said a bit shortly. “I told him to brew me some Polyjuice. I did not tell him why, and I made him swear not to discuss it with anyone else. Give it a rest already. I’m not going to endanger the mission by talking! It’s old anti-Hufflepuff prejudices showing up again, I swear…” Alastor scowled. “He better not talk.” “He won’t. He’s brilliant at Potions, and it’ll give him something to do – I actually think it’s a good idea to keep him occupied. He’s less likely to get himself in trouble if he’s doing something helpful.” Alastor couldn’t argue with that. “Liked your bit about how much you loved ol’ Fudge.” She groaned. “It was awful, really, I couldn’t believe what I was saying. But he just lapped it up…” “Yeah, that was good. But back to business – until the Polyjuice is ready, how am I going to check on Edgecombe?” “I thought you were taking Scrimgeour.” “But you’re the active Auror, you see him at the Ministry…” Tonks shook her head. “Yeah, but he’s my superior, and he’s already a bit suspicious. You’d probably get more out of him.” “No Polyjuice yet, remember?” “You don’t need it… just go down there and make a nuisance of yourself. He’ll have to see you, the other Aurors would insist on it, you wouldn’t believe the reputation you’ve got in the ranks…” Oh wouldn’t I? thought Alastor, but the thought that he was remembered well by the other Aurors warmed him straight to his heart. “Yeah, alright. I’ll work on Scrimgeour, and you take Edgecombe. What’re you going to do?” Tonks cocked her head contemplatively. “I don’t know – I think I’ll just kind of see how it goes.” And, for some odd reason, that sounded just fine. _____________________________________________________________ To Alastor’s disappointment, after their initial successes they didn’t make much progress for a few weeks. The morning after their conversation with Berkeley, he Apparated down to Auror headquarters just as the first shift was coming in, and, despite Tonks’ compliment, he was shocked at just how well the other Aurors received him. Those who had served under him – many of whom were now experienced commanders – approached him right away, shaking his hand enthusiastically, inquiring after his health, his situation. There was a great deal of good-natured longing for those good old days when Alastor was around, but he could tell that they weren’t really dissatisfied. The younger Aurors seemed a bit in awe of him, and some were downright afraid. Alastor amused himself by trying to see how many newly qualified Aurors he could frighten in one morning – showing off his wooden leg and scarred face seemed to work well, as did a quick spin of the magical eye. If all else failed, he could shout, “Constant vigilance!” and draw his wand threateningly… but that hit a little too close to home, for a joke. Young or old, they were all curious as to why he had suddenly reappeared at their headquarters. A few were so bold as to ask, “Coming out of retirement?” but Alastor only shook his head dismissively and said he was looking for Scrimgeour. Truth be told, being back at Auror Headquarters after all those years caused a curious feeling in his gut – a longing to be back again, belonging to this group of bright, talented witches and wizards, always on guard and alert, ready for the action… but he was wise enough not to indulge in that daydream. And a daydream it was – though it wasn’t unheard of for an Auror his age to come out of retirement and back into active service, Alastor knew that no matter how much he wished he could rejoin, he was in no physical or (if he were brutally honest) mental condition for it. Besides, he already had a full-time job with the Order. Scrimgeour wasn’t pleased to see him, though he tried to conceal his reaction in front of the other Aurors. Alastor wasn’t surprised; his presence at the Ministry could not mean anything good for Scrimgeour, who had taken over Alastor’s position when he retired. An intensely competitive man, Scrimgeour had his world ordered in rigid black and white lines that were not to be blurred – Alastor, who rather disputed the existence of pure black and white and instead saw the world in shades of gray, had learned quickly not to cross him. So Alastor’s sudden appearance at the Ministry came as a bit of a shock, and when Scrimgeour got him on his own, he told him in no uncertain terms to get out. But the next morning, Alastor was back – greeting the new recruits, who were amazed that he had remembered their names, reminiscing with his old companions, and waiting for Scrimgeour to arrive. Every morning was the same. Soon the other Aurors stopped being surprised when Alastor arrived, instead just greeting him as they went along with their normal schedules. Each day that passed, the Aurors grew more comfortable with Alastor. And each day that went by, Scrimgeour grew less so. He always kept at least one eye searching for the man who had trailed Arthur that day in Hogsmeade, but so far he hadn’t spotted him. Besides this frustratingly unfruitful search for the spy, Alastor couldn’t really understand what his continued presence at Auror Headquarters was accomplishing, but Tonks insisted that it was important he stay there, and Albus agreed. Alastor didn’t argue, because secretly he enjoyed developing new relationships with Aurors he hadn’t known and feeling part of the scene again. He ran into Tonks occasionally, but they were careful not to act too familiar with each other, only saying hello in passing. Weasley continued to send regular reports in his neatly penned cursive, but the reports didn’t tell them anything new. Scrimgeour was still pestering the Minister, although no one knew why, and Fudge was still entertaining mysterious visitors in his office. Weasley was trying to get them more information, but he wasn’t having a lot of luck, and Alastor didn’t push him. At least Tonks was making progress, though it was taking her longer. After several disguised interviews with the effusive Madam Edgecombe, she had decided (with Alastor’s approval) that the best way to figure out what was going on would be to gain the trust of the workers in the Floo Authority. If Madam Edgecombe were authorizing security overrides in the Minister’s private fire, there would have to be Floo workers actually carrying out her orders. Madam Edgecombe was a middle-aged socialite, fadingly beautiful, exhaustingly talkative, and incredibly bright. She seemed unintelligent, easy to fool – but she was not. Tonks started spending time around the Floo Authority with Chris Samson – a trusted Floo Authority contact of Arthur Weasley. Alastor was impressed with how quickly she integrated herself into the Floo Authority’s social circles, but then again, she was a Hufflepuff. As she told him repeatedly, gaining trust wasn’t easy, and it didn’t happen quickly. They both knew that she was the most likely to gain good information – but that it would take her much longer. Alastor knew they didn’t have a lot of time. _____________________________________________________________ The first domino fell about two and a half weeks after their initial trip to the Ministry. Alastor Apparated to Grimmauld Place, reappearing on the doorstep just outside the security wards; Tonks was on duty with the Aurors that night, but she had suggested that he stop by headquarters to check on Molly and Black. Molly was not handling the gravity of their situation nearly as well as they had hoped. She was so distraught with worry for her family (Percy in particular) that Alastor was beginning to doubt her ability to serve as a guard for the prophecy. I should bring that up with Albus, or maybe Remus, he thought. Well, let’s see how Molly’s doing tonight. Give her another chance. Tonks was also concerned about Black – but that was her affair. She and Black were cousins and had always been close… the Black family blood traitors… Alastor had known Black in the original Order, but not as well as he’d known Frank and Alice, or Remus, and he didn’t consider it his position, or his responsibility, to worry about Sirius Black’s mental health. He left that to Tonks and the others. Tonight, Alastor also wanted to see if he could find Emmeline Vance to talk about his house, which was still silent, even after all this time. Albus was too busy for something so ridiculous as a miscast spell, and even though Remus or one of the others might know… there was no way he was going to admit to them that he couldn’t cast a simple Silencing Charm properly. No way. He had known Emmeline for ages… she might be able to help him. Alastor stepped over the threshold and into the house, tipping his hat to Mrs. Black as she screamed insults at him. “Good evening,” he grinned – Alastor alone found Mrs. Black’s portrait an intriguing and somewhat amusing diversion, and sometimes (when he knew no one was around) he would set her off screaming on purpose, out of a morbid fascination with the old woman’s insanity. Seeing no one right away, Alastor stumped toward the drawing room and poked his head around the doorframe. “Just need a quick word with Molly,” he said loudly. “Is she here?” “Try the kitchen,” called Remus from a chair by the fire, where he was balancing an enormous dusty book in his lap. Alastor nodded and limped down the stairs into the dark kitchen, where he found Molly bustling about, preparing dinner. Here we go. “Oh, Mad-Eye, I’m so glad to see you,” Molly said rather distractedly as she hurried around the table toward him. “Have you any word from Percy?” Alastor quickly checked all around and above and below to make sure no one was listening before he grunted, “Yeah, and everything seems alright, but of course it’s still too early to tell for sure. Is Arthur here?” “No, he’s not back from the Ministry yet, though I can’t imagine why… oh, blast! Mad-Eye, mind that kettle for a minute, won’t you?” Alastor found himself standing in front of a frothing pot while Molly ran around, shooting various household spells over her shoulder. “Molly…” “Oh, no! No, don’t let it boil over like that! Oh, just move aside, Mad-Eye, let me handle this.” Molly pushed in front of him in frustration, waving her wand at the kettle. Immediately, the water inside it calmed. Alastor felt a bit put out. Like it was my idea to come and help with dinner in the first place. “Molly…” “Can’t you see I’m a little busy right now, Mad-Eye? Can’t this wait?” Molly snapped as she wheeled around to face him, brushing a piece of damp hair behind her ear. Her other hand, which was holding her wand, was balanced on her hip. Alastor looked at her. She really shouldn’t hold her wand down like that. I could have it from her in a second, if I wanted to. Of course, I don’t, but she doesn’t know that for sure. And what makes her think she can use that tone with me? Alastor’s gut reaction was to shout back at her. She had no right to treat him with such disrespect, and he knew her behavior was nothing compared with the way she treated Dung, or even Black. But when he saw her standing in the grimy kitchen, her cheeks flushed and eyes overly bright, he realized quite suddenly that yelling was not the most effective way to deal with Molly Weasley. “Yes, Molly, it can wait, but you need to calm down a bit. I know that you’re worried about your son, but driving yourself mad with work and shouting at everyone you come across is not going to help.” Molly wilted. She leaned against the table and sighed, “It’s not just Percy. Bill and Charlie are in the Order, too, and the twins may as well be… Ron and Ginny won’t be safe at Hogwarts, not anymore, and Harry is still with those awful Muggles... I just don’t know what to do. I can’t help them anymore, I can’t protect them, but they’re still my babies…” Alastor rubbed his chin a bit awkwardly. “Look, Molly, sure it’s dangerous, but they know what they’re doing. That’s a vigilant bunch you’ve got.” “What about Ginny and Ron? Or Harry?” “They’re better prepared than most youngsters their age.” She sighed. “I suppose so. I’m just so worried about them… the only time I can forget is when I’m busy. That’s why I do so much of this…” She waved her arm morosely behind her at the kitchen, which was still bustling about on its own. Alastor heard voices upstairs. “Sounds like Arthur’s back. Leave dinner for now – I’m sure it’s fine – and I’ll fill you both in.” Molly nodded and followed him up the stairs. But as they got closer to the top, Alastor realized that the voice he heard were shouting and almost frantic, not at all like Arthur’s usual calm tones. He stopped dead, his heart thudding in his chest, putting out an arm to hold Molly back. “I think we’re under attack,” he growled. “Get your wand ready.” He focused hard on the door, and in a moment his eye broke through. Glancing quickly in all directions, he didn’t see any initial signs of danger, so he shoved open the door and stumped into the hallway. Footsteps were pounding down the stairs and around the doorframe as people came running from all corners of the house. Arthur was by the front door, his eyes wild, roaring. “REMUS! SIRIUS! GET DOWN HERE! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT AWAY!”
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