Harry, Ron and Hermione landed safely on the patch of grass in front of Grimmauld Place. Waiting there for them were Mr. Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt who, once Harry, Ron and Hermione appeared, picked them quickly up off of the ground.
“Hi, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione said, as they hurried up the front steps.
“Not now, Hermione,” he said with a smile. “Wait until were inside.”
They threw open the door, rushed inside and Kingsley shut the door behind them.
“Sorry for the rush, Harry,” Kingsley said, shaking hands with everyone. “But you can imagine what we’ve been dealing with the past couple of weeks.”
Harry nodded and then turned around, trying to get upstairs, away from everyone, but Mrs. Weasley appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.
She ran at full speed and engulfed Harry, Ron and Hermione in a massive hug.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you all so much,” she said. “Oh, Harry, I’m so glad to see you.”
She slackened her grip and Harry slid out of her grasp, giving her a weak smile.
He hurried to the staircase where Ginny was standing waiting for him, a huge smile plastered across her face.
“Harry, I…”
“Sorry, not…” he began, but soon found that he could not finish his thought.
Harry pushed past her, averting his eyes, leaving Ron, Hermione, Kingsley, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and a very hurt Ginny behind.
He reached the top of the stairs and walked towards his and Ron’s room. He didn’t want to talk to anyone; he didn’t want to be with anyone. He just wanted to lie down and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
He walked into his room and sat down on the edge of his bed where he heard a very peculiar humming noise.
Harry shook his head, thinking that he was imagining the noise and lay down “ he needed rest.
The minute his head hit the pillow, however, he fell into his usual nightmare.
He watched on, in horror as Ginny was once again tortured and killed while he was forced to stand aside and do nothing.
When he awoke, however, instead of being alone, in a cold, damp cave, he was surrounded by warm candlelight, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
“What are you doing here?” he asked groggily, rolling over.
“That’s a nice way to greet your girlfriend who you haven’t seen in almost two months,” Ginny said angrily, crossing her arms and legs.
Harry groaned.
“Listen, Ginny, I’m sorry, I just…”
“No, Harry, you listen. I know this is a tough time for you, but it’s tough for all of us. You need to stop jumping down Ron and Hermione’s throat. They told me some of the things you said, Harry.”
“Well, actually, mate, it was really Hermione who…”
“Ron, shut up,” Ginny continued. “And I also don’t want to hear anymore about Lupin being a spy.”
“Now hold on just a second,” Harry said, sitting up a little straighter. “Think about it, he is…”
“I have thought about it, Harry,” Ginny said, cutting him off again. “When I couldn’t reach you and I didn’t know where you were he and Kingsley came up to Hogwarts and we worked together, trying to figure out where you went.”
Though she didn’t say it directly, Harry could sense how much she had been hurt when he had been out of contact.
“Not once did Remus do or say anything that would make me think that he’s not completely loyal to you, Harry,” Ginny finished.
Harry could feel his anger rising again.
“Not once?” he asked sarcastically. “What about having an affair with my Mum behind my Dad’s back? Was he being loyal to me then?”
Ginny sighed and Ron and Hermione looked at each other uncomfortably.
“Harry, I understand how much that upsets you, but think about it rationally “ Ron and Hermione told me what Aberforth said, and…”
“Oh, did they?” Harry said furiously. “Been having a nice, little conversation behind my back now, have you?”
“Damn it, Harry!” Ginny exclaimed. “We have not been having a ‘nice, little conversation’ behind you’re back. We’re trying to help you. We love you, Harry.”
Harry fell silent.
Ron was leant back in his chair, as far from Harry as possible. Hermione was close to tears once more and Ginny was shaking her head in disbelief.
“Listen to me, Harry, and Merlin help you if you interrupt me,” Ginny began crossly. “I want you to put yourself in Lupin’s shoes, okay? I want you to imagine yourself living with werewolves, away from your friends, away from any kind of love. Then I want you to imagine that once you came back, you find out that your friends had all turned on you.”
“Now, I’m not making excuses for Remus having an affair with your Mum, Harry, I’m not “ that was wrong. But that doesn’t make him an evil person, and it certainly doesn’t mean that he’s working for Voldemort,” Ginny continued.
“Ginny, everything makes sense,” Harry said, not understanding why no one would agree with him. “Who told the Death Eaters that we were at Godric’s Hollow, or Regulus’ house, or that I was at Bill and Fleur’s wedding?”
“I don’t know, Harry,” Ginny answered. “But that’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“You’re making the same mistake that my parents did “ all of you!” Harry said angrily. “They didn’t believe that Wormtail could be a spy either, and look what happened.”
“No, mate, you’re making the same mistake,” Ron said. “They thought Lupin was the spy, just like you do now “ and look what happened.”
Perhaps it was the fact that Ron had said this, or maybe just because he was tired, but he lay back down and closed his eyes.
Ginny leaned over too, kissed him on the cheek and then curled up in the bed next to him.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she said softly. “And I don’t know how long you’re going to be here so, please, can’t we just enjoy this while we can?”
She sniffled and Harry felt her bury her head on his shoulder so that he could not see her tears.
“Okay, we will,” he answered, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Harry,” she answered sleepily.
Ron and Hermione smiled at the pair of them and stood up to leave.
“Wait, Ron, Hermione,” Harry called, trying to sit up straighter. “Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean some of the things…”
“Harry,” Ron said, turning around at the doorway. “Shut up and kiss my baby sister.”
With a smile and a wink, Harry gladly obliged.
* * *
Harry woke up early the following morning with Ginny snoring quietly on his shoulder.
He smiled down at her again, quietly extracted his arm from behind her head and climbed out of bed.
Yawning slightly, Harry left the bedroom and walked down the stairs where he heard the same strange humming noise.
He reached the first floor, took a left and then headed down the stairs into the kitchen where he found Mr. Weasley sitting alone at the table, sipping coffee.
“Good morning, Harry,” he said, looking up from a large assortment of magazines spread across the table.
“Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” Harry replied, taking a seat next to him. “Are those Daily Prophets?”
Mr. Weasley hesitated for a moment.
“Er, no, no they’re not. They’re actually copies of The Quibbler,” he said, picking one up and showing it to Harry.
“This article ran last night,” Mr. Weasley said once Harry had finished reading. “What do you think?”
“Er, it’s great, but what do you mean?” Harry asked, not quite sure what Mr. Weasley was talking about.
“We needed a way to get the real news and information out to the public. As I’m sure you know, You-Know-Who has taken over the Daily Prophet and turned it into the anti-Potter newspaper.”
“So, there’s no change then,” Harry said sarcastically.
Mr. Weasley smiled.
“As I was saying, we needed a way to get the truth out to the public and Hrabanus Lovegood happily agreed.”
“Luna’s father?” Harry asked.
Mr. Weasley nodded.
“He’s rather eccentric, like his daughter, but he couldn’t have been more helpful.”
“Where’s he printing The Quibbler?” Harry asked. “I mean, wouldn’t Voldemort be looking for him?”
Mr. Weasley flinched.
“Yes, You-Know-Who is furious that we’ve been able to continue printing The Quibbler right under his nose. That’s why we’re printing The Quibbler here “ upstairs in the drawing room to be exact. That would be the constant humming you’ve probably already heard.”
Harry nodded.
“And You-Know-Who can’t get in here, right?” he asked, suddenly remembering that the Order’s Secret-Keeper, Dumbledore, was no longer alive.
“No, he cannot get in here,” Mr. Weasley answered.
“Even though Snape knows about headquarters?”
“That is correct,” Mr. Weasley answered. “We took care of that immediately after Dumbledore’s funeral… although, it was weeks before we returned to Headquarters after Dumbledore’s death. You see, we weren’t sure if our new protections were satisfactory. Eventually, however, Aberforth became the new Secret-Keeper.”
Harry nodded, looking back down at the stack of newspapers.
“What’s the Prophet saying now?” he asked. “The last we saw, they were reporting that anyone who knows where I am should report to Gringotts.”
“Yes, well, now the Daily Prophet is reporting now that anyone who sees you or Ron or Hermione should try and detain you and then contact the Auror Office.”
“The Auror Office?” Harry said, looking up at Mr. Weasley. “But then wouldn’t the Ministry show up?”
“That’s what worries us most,” Mr. Weasley answered. “If You-Know-Who wants people who see you to contact the Auror Office, then many more of his spies must have infiltrated the Ministry.”
Mr. Weasley poured Harry a cup of coffee and handed it to him.
“Thanks,” said Harry, taking a sip. “But didn’t that article say that two spies had been caught?”
“Yes, it did,” Mr. Weasley replied. “But You-Know-Who has more than two spies in the Ministry. Although, I will say that capturing Gacheru Gable was a major boost. He’s been terrorizing a lot of us at the Ministry… threatening to kill us, hurt our families.”
“But then why wasn’t he caught sooner?” Harry asked incredulously. “I mean, if he was making open threats then…”
“But no one wanted to report Gable,” Mr. Weasley answered, cutting Harry off. “Yes, maybe it would lead to his arrest, but the next thing you know your family has been taken captive… or worse.”
He opened his mouth to ask Mr. Weasley another question when they heard a loud bang from somewhere upstairs.
Both Harry and Mr. Weasley pulled out their wands and aimed them towards the kitchen door.
Seconds later a pale, skinny, strange-looking man appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, it’s only you, Hrabanus,” Mr. Weasley said with a sigh, stowing his wand.
The man called Hrabanus, had wispy, medium length, straw-colored hair, bright blue eyes and reminded Harry very much of Luna.
“Yes, yes, sorry, Arthur,” he said, twiddling his thumbs absentmindedly. “It seems my Auto-Magic Editor back-fired again.”
“You’re what?” Harry asked.
“Oh, my Auto-Magic Editor is…” Hrabanus began, before falling silent and doing a double-take, his mouth agape. “Why, Merlin’s beard, you’re Harry Potter!”
Hrabanus hurried over to Harry and shook his hand vehemently.
“It’s so good to finally meet you, Mr. Potter,” he said, still shaking Harry’s hand. “It was your interview that saved The Quibbler two years ago… I can’t possibly thank you enough.”
Hrabanus continued to shake Harry’s hand, even as Harry tried, as surreptitiously as possible, to wrest his hand free.
“Er, what’s an Auto-Magic Editor, Mr. Lovegood?” Harry asked, hoping that by distracting Hrabanus, he may let go of Harry’s hand.
“Oh, you don’t know,” Mr. Lovegood replied, finally releasing Harry. “Follow me, I’ll show you.”
He led the way out of the kitchen as Mr. Weasley rolled his eyes slightly.
“You’ll have to excuse him, Harry,” Mr. Weasley whispered as they climbed the stairs out of the kitchen. “He’s a little eccentric.”
“Don’t worry,” Harry whispered back, thinking of Luna. “I know what you mean.”
“This way,” Mr. Lovegood called from up ahead.
They entered the drawing room and Harry’s first reaction was that they had walked into a paper maze.
Stacks upon stacks of paper were scattered all about, and at the far end of the room there sat the strangest looking thing that Harry had ever seen.
It was black, rectangular, and quite massive. There was a metallic grate on the top, next to a huge array of buttons, switches and knobs, and six mechanical arms that stuck out at strange angles.
“This is my Auto-Magic Editor,” Mr. Lovegood said proudly. “What do you think?”
“It’s… er, nice, Mr. Lovegood,” Harry answered. “What does it do?”
“Oh, many, many things,” he answered flipping a few of the switches. “And there’s no need to call me Mr. Lovegood, Mr. Potter. You can call me Hrabanus… or any other name you may come up with “ it really makes no difference to me.”
Harry turned to Mr. Weasley who was trying to hide his smile.
“Now, watch this,” Mr. Lovegood said, picking up the nearest piece of paper and laying atop the metallic grate.
He flipped a switch causing the grate to begin moving forward and the six arms to come to life.
“The papers go through like so,” Hrabanus explained. “The first arm aligns the paper just right and the second designs the headline.”
Harry watched as the Auto-Magic Editor did just as Mr. Lovegood described.
“Then the third arm writes the article,” Hrabanus continued. “The fourth arm checks for any mistakes, the fifth arm draws the pictures, if there are any, and the sixth arm puts all the pages in order.”
Harry watched in interest as the Auto-Magic Editor did everything that Mr. Lovegood described.
Hrabanus reached over and extracted the piece of paper he had put through the machine.
“Here you go, Mr. Potter,” he said happily, “fresh off the Editor.”
Harry took the piece of warm paper.
“Well, what do you think?” Mr. Lovegood asked hopefully.
“It’s brilliant,” Harry said, slightly astounded.
“Excellent,” Hrabanus replied. “This will run tomorrow’s edition then “ better get to work.”
He turned back to his Auto-Magic Editor and set it to work.
“Come, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, beckoning Harry. “A few more of us may have gotten up.”
Harry and Mr. Weasley walked back down to the kitchen, where they found Mrs. Weasley cooking breakfast and Fred and George sitting at the table.
“Harry!” Fred called, quickly getting to his feet and hurrying over to him. “Quick, George, contact the Auror Office immediately “ I’ve found him.”
“Fred, will you sit down and leave Harry alone!” Mrs. Weasley said angrily, glaring at the back of Fred’s head. “How are you, Harry, dear?” she added, her anger quickly subsiding.
“Oh, I’m fine, thanks,” Harry replied with a warm smile.
“Good, good,” she said, turning back to her cooking. “How do scrambled eggs and bacon sound?”
“Anything’s fine, Mrs. Weasley, thanks,” Harry answered.
“Good, just take a seat and don’t let Fred and George bother you.”
“It was only a joke, Mum, honestly,” Fred said, rolling his eyes at his mother. “How’ve you been, Harry?”
“About as good as could be expected,” Harry answered cryptically, taking a seat between George and Mr. Weasley. “And you?”
“Fantastic, until You-Know-Who decided to attack Diagon Alley,” George answered, with a hint of resentment. “We haven’t yet been able to see what’s happened to our shop.”
“And you won’t be trying either,” Mrs. Weasley said, her back to them as she continued preparing breakfast.
Fred rolled his eyes again.
Before long, Ron, Hermione and Ginny came stumbling sleepily down the stairs and they all tucked in for breakfast.
“Who’s all coming for dinner tomorrow, Mum?” Ginny asked, eating a piece of bacon.
“Kingsley and Alastor, for sure,” Mrs. Weasley answered. “Um, Bill and Fleur, of course, and… oh, Remus and Tonks, if they can.”
At the mention of Remus, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all immediately looked up at Harry, who was distractedly playing with his scrambled eggs, trying not to think about what he would do when he saw the man who had an affair with his mother.
* * *
“Harry?” called Ginny. “Harry?”
She, Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the library on Christmas Day, sifting through large volumes of dusty, old books, hoping to find some information on either Rowena Ravenclaw or Godric Gryffindor.
“Harry?”
Harry jerked awake, having fallen asleep and drifted into another nightmare.
“Harry, what’s wrong?” Ginny asked concernedly, putting a hand on Harry’s forearm.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
Ginny raised her eyebrows.
“Harry,” she began with a wry smile, “we both know that you’re lying… tell us what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Harry said, rubbing his temple with the palm of his hand.
“Is it about seeing Remus?” Ginny offered, rubbing Harry’s arm soothingly.
Harry thought that it would probably be a better idea to nod his head and act like this was why he looked so upset, it wouldn’t really be a lie because the prospect of coming face to face with Lupin was bothering him.
The real reason for his headache, at the moment anyway, was the fact that he had just had to sit through another nightmare where Ginny confessed that she wished she had never met him.
Instead of admitting this to Ginny however, he simply nodded his head.
“Oh, Harry listen to me,” Ginny said calmingly. “Don’t worry, okay? You don’t have to talk to him “ or look at him, for that matter.”
Harry almost opened his mouth to argue that the way to deal with a spy was not to merely “not look at him”, but he chose not to.
“Harry,” Hermione began slowly, “do you remember what Aberforth said?”
“How could I forget?” Harry replied bitterly.
“No, no, I mean about what Dumbledore told him,” Hermione said. “About trying to find out where Voldemort might have hid the Horcruxes instead of researching what the Horcruxes might be.”
“But, even if we knew where You-Know-Who hid this Horcrux, it still wouldn’t help us,” Ron replied, before Harry could answer. “I mean, suppose he hid it with a bunch of other junk “ we wouldn’t know what to look for.”
“Yeah, Ron’s right,” Harry said, not really paying any attention and still thinking about what the Ginny in his dream confessed.
Ginny gave him a very quizzical look but she did not press the issue.
After three more painstakingly uneventful hours of research, that turned up absolutely nothing, Mrs. Weasley called them down for Christmas dinner.
They hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen.
There, laid out on the kitchen table in front of them, was the best looking meal Harry had seen in months: roast turkey, with thick, rich gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and a tasty-looking Christmas cake.
“Mum, this looks wonderful!” Ginny exclaimed, taking a seat at the table.
“Yes, Mrs. Weasley, this looks delicious,” Hermione said, taking a seat too.
“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks called from down the table as Harry moved to sit next to Ginny.
He smiled at Tonks and then his eyes fell on Lupin, who was looking sickly and tired, the ever-present bags under his eyes were even darker than usual.
Harry stared at him for a second, but, perhaps thankfully, Ginny grabbed him by the sleeve and forced him down before Lupin noticed.
Harry pilled some turkey and potatoes onto his plate and began to eat, determined to keep his emotions in check.
“Where’s Kingsley and Mad-Eye?” Ginny asked, looking around the table.
Harry glanced up too and saw Lupin’s eyes travel slowly between Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, a frown crossing his face.
“I don’t know, Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley answered. “Did you see them at work, Arthur?”
“Yes, I saw them both at lunch and they both said that they’d be coming,” Mr. Weasley answered. “I don’t know what could be keeping them.”
Mrs. Weasley shrugged and took a sip of wine as everyone fell quiet, eating in silence.
“How have you been, Harry?” Lupin asked, finally breaking the silence.
Harry looked up quickly, nearly spilling his pumpkin juice.
“Fine,” he answered shortly, before looking back down at his food.
“Forgive me for not being as available as I’ve been previously,” Lupin said, taking a bite of turkey. “I’ve been rather busy.”
Harry nodded, trying not to let his anger rise.
“If history is any indicator, I probably won’t get an answer to this, but where are planning on heading next?” Lupin asked.
Harry quickly looked up at Ron and Hermione, who both looked to be holding their breaths.
“Er… Godric’s Hollow,” Harry answered, saying the first location that popped into his head. “We’re heading back to Godric’s Hollow.”
He gave Ron and Hermione a quick, knowing glance before turning his attention back to Lupin.
Lupin nodded slowly, taking a sip from his goblet.
That should throw him off our scent, Harry thought to himself.
“Have you been able to get any help from the French, Bill?” Hermione asked quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from their next destination.
“We’re still working on it,” Bill answered, after swallowing his food. “Thing’s are going nicely though. From what I hear, Hagrid’s going to be paying Madame Maxime a visit some time soon.”
Ron grinned and took a rather large bite of turkey.
Hermione looked on in disgust.
“I, er, I heard that Viktor Krum’s working for the Order now,” she asked, still trying to keep the conversation in safe waters.
“Yes, he is,” Lupin answered, as Harry tried hard not to look at him. “He’s stationed at Hogwarts now.”
“And you trust him?” Ron asked a little too accusatory.
Mrs. Weasley glared at him and Lupin frowned slightly.
“Yes, I trust him,” Lupin answered shortly. “He told us that ever since Bill and Fleur’s wedding he’s been interested in joining the Order.”
“Yeah, ever since he saw Hermione in that dress,” Ron mumbled to Harry.
Despite how uncomfortable he was feeling at the moment, Harry let a small smile creep across his face.
All of a sudden, a loud bang, like a gun-shot, sounded from somewhere outside.
There was another loud bang and muffled screaming.
Within seconds, everyone had their wands drawn, with Bill, Lupin, Tonks, Mr. Weasley, Fred and George rushing out of the kitchen and towards the front door.
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny followed, despite the pleas to stay put from Mrs. Weasley.
Harry reached the foyer when the front door burst open in a flurry of snow.
Percy Weasley crossed the threshold, battered and bloodied, carrying the limp form of Hestia Jones.
Mrs. Weasley, standing in the kitchen doorway let out a shriek.
“It’s over,” Percy said, panting heavily and clutching his side. “He attacked the Ministry. We tried to stop them, but, there were… there were too many.”
“Percy, what are you talking about?” Mr. Weasley asked clearly. “What’s happened?”
“You-Know-Who attacked. He attacked the Ministry “ it’s over.”