Chapter 13

 

 

The kitchen was buzzing with excitement when Sirius and Albus Dumbledore arrived there. The Aurors’ little group was the centre of attention. Surrounded by the rest of the Order, who were bombarding him with questions, Kingsley Shacklebolt was making himself very unpopular by insisting that they wait until the meeting had officially started. He looked rather relieved when Dumbledore entered at last.

 

“Good evening,” Dumbledore greeted them in his calm voice that nonetheless carried across the room.

 

The group of witches and wizards broke apart and settled down around the large table, but the excited murmuring did not subside.

 

“Dear friends,” Dumbledore, at the head of the table, opened the meeting. “I have called you together again because the Order of the Phoenix needs your help, and urgently. Things are beginning to move.” His eyes travelled over the assembled Order, and one by one, they fell silent.

 

Sirius had taken the last free chair, between Bill Weasley and Sturgis Podmore, and looked around for his friends. Kingsley Shacklebolt was standing next to Dumbledore, still clutching his briefcase. Moody had settled down at Shacklebolt’s side, his bowler hat sitting on the table in front of him. Tonks was a few seats further down the row, and next to her, at the far end of the table, Sirius finally found Remus Lupin. Sirius tried to catch his eye, but Lupin wasn’t looking anywhere, only gazing unfocusedly at the table in front of him, his lean face as pale and drawn as Tonks’s had been the day before. Tonks herself seemed much more awake. She gave Sirius a quick smile when their eyes met.

 

“The reason why the Order needs your help,” Dumbledore was saying, “is that Voldemort – “ a shudder went around the room at the name “ - appears to be preparing his first strike. Unfortunately, we don’t yet know exactly what action he will take, and when. But we know where he will strike. It will be at the Ministry of Magic.”

 

Those that hadn’t heard of this before gasped in surprise. Only Mundungus Fletcher, sitting in a corner wrapped in his cloak, gave a very satisfied grunt. “Serves ‘em right.”

 

Dumbledore held up his hand. “A strike at the Ministry is a strike at the heart of the entire wizarding community,” he said firmly, “no matter who holds the office of Minister at the moment, and no matter how much we might disagree with the Ministry’s current position regarding Voldemort’s return, Mundungus. We cannot allow this to happen.”

 

“You Know Who is going to attack the Ministry of Magic?” Elphias Doge asked disbelievingly. “Wouldn’t that be a bit rash? Premature?”

 

“It would,” Dumbledore said. “I do not expect a concerted attack. When I said that he will strike, I was not talking about open war. No, Voldemort’s plans are aimed at what Cornelius Fudge would, if he was referring to any action of mine, call ‘interference’.” Dumbledore’s ancient face darkened. “He is trying, through his agents, to gain control over Fudge’s decisions concerning a particular subject.”

 

“Which subject?” Dedalus Diggle prompted politely.

 

“The reform of the organizational structure of the Ministry Departments,” Dumbledore replied mysteriously. All of his audience, except Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape, frowned at these words.

 

 “And that’s the urgent danger that we have to avert?” Elphias Doge said dismissively. “A mere change in the organizational structure of the Ministry Departments?”

 

“If you would kindly let me finish, Elphias,” Dumbledore said with a bite of impatience in his voice, “I would explain to you the danger I see in this. Now, the reform of the organizational structure of the Ministry Departments is a topic that has seen much discussion in the recent years, never with any tangible result of course, as is usually the case with discussions of this kind. The Minister has apparently reopened the debate now. But this time, things have taken two unusual turns. For one, this time the discussion includes the special status of the Department of Mysteries, which has not been questioned, as far as I know or remember, since it was established over a century ago.”

 

“What special status exactly?” Hestia Jones asked curiously.

 

Dumbledore invited Kingsley Shacklebolt to speak.

 

“The work of the Department of Mysteries is kept an absolute secret from anyone outside it,” the Auror explained. “The Department employees are not allowed to talk about it, nor do they. They never publish the results of their research, nor inform anyone what they’re researching on. In consequence, the Department is not answerable to the rest of the Ministry. Magical Law Enforcement is not allowed to exercise any control over it. Even the Minister himself has no say in what kind of work is done there. His powers are restricted to appointing the Department’s employees, and other formalities.”

 

“And that’s what the Minister wants changed in his reform?” Dedalus Diggle asked.

 

“But that’s weird,” Bill Weasley said, shaking his head. “You’d think it was a good idea, to know what they’re up to, in case it’s something dangerous, or illegal, or simply a waste of Ministry money.”

 

“If you put it like that, you’re quite right,” Dumbledore agreed. “But there is more behind this matter than meets the eye. I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that the Ministry is being prompted into changing the status of the Department of Mysteries at just this time.”

 

“Who is prompting them?” Dedalus Diggle asked, picking up Dumbledore’s cautious wording.

 

“That is the second unusual turn the affair has taken,” Dumbledore replied. “It doesn’t seem to have been Fudge’s own idea, or that of his Heads of Department. Fudge has apparently been in consultation with an independent advisor, and that is what worries me.”

 

“An independent advisor?” Diggle wondered. “But that in itself is surely not out of order? You yourself, Albus – “

 

“I know that I myself have been consulted by the Minister on earlier occasions. And yes, that is, in itself, a normal and perfectly acceptable procedure. But you will agree with me that it is no longer perfectly acceptable, and definitely ceases to be a mere coincidence, when the independent advisor is Lucius Malfoy.”

 

A murmur went around the room.

 

“I see that the name alone is enough to make you all suspicious,” Dumbledore observed, “and rightly so. This name is the key to what, or rather who, is behind this whole affair, harmless and coincidental it might otherwise appear. It was Lucius Malfoy who prompted Fudge to take a critical look at the status of the Department of Mysteries. It is Lucius Malfoy who is urging him to bring the Department under full Ministry control, and make its secrets accessible. And it is not hard to guess who is, directly or indirectly, pulling the strings behind the scenes. Lucius Malfoy is no more than a puppet.”

 

There was a heavy silence.

 

“How do you know?” Sturgis Podmore finally asked. Several heads nodded to echo the question.

 

Dumbledore sighed. “I have had it confirmed from both sides. And for the moment, I’m afraid this information must suffice.”

 

More than one person shifted uneasily in their seats at these words.

 

“I know this is a very unsatisfying answer,” Dumbledore admitted. “I must ask you not to interpret it as a sign of mistrust of any of you. But I cannot risk compromising my sources, the matter is far too delicate. I would certainly not ask you for your help and support in a rather dangerous mission if I wasn’t completely sure that the effort was necessary.” Almost apologetically, he looked to his left at the Aurors and Remus Lupin. Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded thoughtfully. Lupin was still staring into space. Sirius wasn’t sure he was even listening.

 

“But what does – what does You Know Who want with the Department of Mysteries?” Hestia asked timidly. “What’s in there that he’s interested in?”

 

Dumbledore made no answer.

 

“But you do know, don’t you?” Moody demanded, frowning.

 

“There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Alastor,” Dumbledore said rather sharply, “few of which I would like to see Voldemort lay his hands on.”

 

Moody almost shrank back from this sudden change of tone. “I just thought that we might make a better job of it if we knew what we were guarding,” he muttered.

 

“Guarding?” Sturgis Podmore asked curiously. “So that’s what you’ve been doing?”

 

“What we’ve been doing,” Moody grumbled irritably, “is sitting under an Invisibility Cloak outside the door to the Department of Mysteries guarding we have no idea what. And that’s what we want you all to help us with.”

 

“Alastor!” Minerva McGonagall seemed rather scandalized at Moody’s tone.

 

“What?” he asked, looking at her with raised eyebrows. “I’m only telling the truth.”

 

“But we can’t guard something if we don’t know what it is,” Hestia Jones pointed out shyly.

 

“Exactly my point,” Moody grunted.

 

Albus Dumbledore raised his hand again, and sighed. “Please,” he called, “let’s discuss this one thing after another. Yes, I have asked Alastor Moody here, and Remus Lupin, and the three Ministry employees of our circle, to keep watch at the Department of Mysteries these past few days, and that is what Arthur Weasley is doing as we speak. I believe that there is an imminent danger that Voldemort’s agents might try to break into the Department to lay their hands on – on something in there. The Ministry is doing nothing to prevent this. On the contrary, Cornelius Fudge is determined to walk open eyed into the trap Voldemort, through Lucius Malfoy, is setting for him. It falls to us to stop them. Some of us have sacrificed a lot of time and sleep over the last days in order to do just that. But they are not enough. We need the help of everyone who can give it.”

 

“But what is it they’re after?” Bill Weasley insisted.

 

Dumbledore gave him a long and thoughtful look, clearly struggling with himself how much he should tell them. “Knowledge,” he said finally.

 

“Knowledge?”

 

“Knowledge,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Knowledge, in the hands of the wrong person, can be a powerful and terrible weapon. It can be used to manipulate the ignorant, to scare the timid, and to discourage the brave. Voldemort seeks this kind of knowledge. A knowledge that he hopes will provide him with what he needs to overcome the last obstacles on his road to victory.”

 

“What kind of knowledge is that?” Tonks asked uncomfortably.

 

Dumbledore exchanged a look with Minerva McGonagall. She looked very sceptical, but made no move to keep him from continuing.

 

“An ancient kind,” Dumbledore said. “The kind of knowledge only a true Seer would be able to reveal.”

 

“A Seer?” whispered Hestia Jones.

 

“Yes,” confirmed Dumbledore. “I know the art of Divination is not nowadays universally acknowledged as a serious branch of magic, or a reliable way of achieving knowledge of our future. I myself am in much doubt about the reliability of most techniques of Divination. But most witches and wizards still place high credibility on the prophecies of a true Seer. The Department of Mysteries, among many other things, serves as an archive of these prophecies. There is a room in there in which they are stored, thousands and thousands of them. It is one of these prophecies that Voldemort is after: the one that was made about him. And he will know how to turn it into a weapon against those that oppose him.”

 

“But it doesn’t say – it doesn’t say that he’s – invincible?” Hestia Jones asked in a very small voice.

 

“No,” Dumbledore assured her.

 

“How do you know that?” Elphias Doge demanded.

 

“Because I know what the prophecy says,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “I was the one it was made to, many years ago.”

 

Another whisper went around the room.

 

“But what does it say then?” Tonks insisted.

 

Dumbledore sighed again. “You must understand,” he said, looking around at their expectant faces, “that it is imperative that all our efforts be directed at keeping this a secret. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, but we would be playing right into Voldemort’s hands if we spread the knowledge of it, even among ourselves. Remember that there are ways to make a witch or wizard tell a secret against their will.”

 

“Look, if this prophecy,” Elphias Doge said it as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth, “if it doesn’t say that You Know Who is invincible, then why are you so worried about him hearing it? How could he use it as a weapon, if it doesn’t predict his victory?”

 

“Because Voldemort is not the only person the prophecy speaks of,” Dumbledore explained. “And it is for the sake of the safety of this other person, most of all, that it must remain a secret. We must not even disclose the very existence of this prophecy to anyone outside our circle. Not to anyone.” He looked around at them very gravely, and his eyes rested on Sirius rather longer than on all the others.

 

“What are we to do then?” Bill Weasley asked with a sigh.

 

“I believe Voldemort hopes that his agents will manage to enter the Department and learn the content of the prophecy, and then return to report it to him. The archived prophecies are heavily protected, visibly and invisibly. Even to touch them is dangerous. But there are ways to overcome these obstacles. We must not let it come to that. Keep any of Voldemort’s agents from entering the Department at all, and the prophecy will be quite safe.”

 

“How are we supposed to do that?” asked Sturgis Podmore.

 

Kingsley Shacklebolt took a roll of parchment from his briefcase, and spread it out on the table. “Here is a plan of level nine of the Ministry of Magic,” he explained. “Level nine contains the courtrooms – here.“ He pointed at them with his wand, and the word “courtroom” appeared in several places. “This corridor leads from the lifts to the entrance of the Department of Mysteries – that is the door here.” He indicated a door close to the right edge of the parchment. The map didn’t show anything beyond it.

 

“So nobody knows what’s behind there?” Elphias Doge asked, leaning across the table to get a better look.

 

“I’m afraid not,” said Kingsley, giving Dumbledore an apologetic look. “I’ve been hunting high and low for a plan of the Department. There’s nothing to be found. Even the blueprints of the Ministry buildings they keep at Magical Maintenance stop at this door. Everything concerning the Department of Mysteries is gone. If anything ever existed.”

 

“The structure of the Department is highly complicated,” Minerva McGonagall said evenly, “and it keeps changing. It contains several rooms with many doors that are linked with each other, but these links shift. It might be possible to get in, but it won’t be easy to get out again. And it certainly wouldn’t be easy to make a reliable map of it.”

 

“How do you know that?” Elphias Doge asked, looking very impressed.

 

“The Ministry may have hidden or lost their records of the structure of the Department of Mysteries long ago, Elphias,” Minerva McGonagall replied, “but the Hogwarts library hasn’t.”

 

“In any case,” Dumbledore continued, “I hope that none of us will actually have to enter the Department itself. In fact, I strongly urge you not to, unless you absolutely must. The Unspeakables devote their studies to the fundamental questions and secrets of the human existence, and that involves dangerous experiments, and not only thought experiments. So if you must enter it, take good care to stay away from the objects in there. Don’t touch anything. It might be fatal, even if it looks perfectly harmless.”

 

More than one person in the room gave a little shudder at his last words.

 

“What if they just Apparate straight past us?” Bill asked. “We might never know they’re there.”

 

“That is a good question,” Dumbledore replied, “but fortunately not one that we have to worry about. The Department of Mysteries, unlike the rest of the Ministry of Magic, is Apparation-proof. The fabric of it is much older than the floors above, and it has always been protected in this way. I’m not sure, but it might even be the highly sophisticated type of Apparation-proofing that makes it impossible to Apparate and Disapparate within the protected space. The same spell as the one that protects Hogwarts.”

 

Sirius suddenly realised Dumbledore had just provided the answer that all the books in his father’s library had failed to give him, but he was hardly given the time to appreciate it.

 

“So you want us to stand guard outside the door?” Elphias Doge asked.

 

“Exactly,” Kingsley Shacklebolt took over again. “The corridor, as you can see, is wide enough for that. Position yourselves here, under Alastor Moody’s Invisibility Cloak.” He indicated the spot. “Stay out of anyone’s way, make no noise, don’t fall asleep, and watch out for any unauthorised person trying to enter the Department.”

 

“What do we do if anyone does?” asked Bill.

 

“Put them out of action. Stun them, hex them, do whatever it takes to stop them. Then raise an alarm. If it happens during office hours, immediately try to contact me, or Tonks here, or Arthur Weasley. If you can’t, make sure someone else finds them. But be careful not to be seen. Get out of there as soon as you can be sure that the Ministry is taking care of the matter. Then alert the rest of the Order straight away. The Hogwarts headmaster’s portrait in the atrium can be trusted with messages.”

 

“What about the Department employees, then?” Elphias Doge asked. “We can’t keep them from coming and going as they like. What if one of them is in league with You Know Who, and retrieves the prophecy for him?”

 

“I deem that very unlikely,” said Dumbledore. “The Unspeakables take no interest in anything other than their work. They are bound by their oath of secrecy, and they abide by it very strictly.”

 

“Unless they’re called Algernon Rookwood,” Moody growled.

 

“Algernon Rookwood is in Azkaban,” Minerva McGonagall said calmly.

 

“For the time being.”

 

“For the rest of his life, Alastor.”

 

“So this is what the Order needs your help for,” Dumbledore concluded. “I know this is asking much. It will take up a lot of our time and energy, while we must not neglect our other tasks. I know very well that we are not many, and that not every one of us is suited to this new task, for various reasons.” He glanced at Sirius as if expecting him to object, but Sirius made a point of staring straight ahead, pretending he wasn’t listening.

 

“Those of you who are considering volunteering,” Dumbledore continued gravely, “let me warn you that this is a highly dangerous undertaking. You will need to be very much alert for six hours in a row, and at the same time, very quiet and unobtrusive. The risk of discovery is greater during the day shifts, while the risk of an attack is greater at night. But by day and night alike, you must be prepared to take both risks. If you are discovered by the Ministry, run for it. The consequences would be far too serious if you were caught. My means of intervening on anyone’s behalf would unfortunately be very limited. In fact, I’m afraid that none of us will be able to do much at all in that case. I would even have to ask you to refuse to speak in your own defence, to protect the Order and our mission. So make sure you place your life and your freedom above your duties when it comes to it. Don’t stay and act the hero.”

 

“What would happen if the Ministry discovered us?” Sturgis Podmore asked anxiously.

”Your presence would be considered a criminal offence, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore said in the same grave tone, “unless you can come up with a very good excuse for being there, but unless you’re a Ministry employee you shouldn’t rely on that. You would be trespassing on restricted Ministry property, and that is severely punishable under wizarding laws. If you could give us an idea of the consequences, Dedalus – “

 

“Oh.” Dedalus Diggle gave a little start. “Yes. Trespassing on Ministry property. A minimum sentence of six months in Azkaban, I’m afraid. Considerably more if you have any previous criminal convictions.”

 

Elphias Doge gave a very short, indignant laugh. “Certainly, Dedalus,” he said in a rather affronted tone, “you’re not suggesting that anyone of us has a criminal record?”

 

There was an awkward pause. Sirius could feel a dozen pairs of eyes on him, and he suddenly hated their embarrassed silence, their polite pity, how they all pretended to understand, how they all pretended to sympathize, when they had no idea what it really felt like.

 

“Eh!” Mundungus Fletcher in his corner grumbled suddenly. “That’s nothin’ to be ashamed of!”

 

All heads turned towards him.

 

“You will find that the vast majority of the wizarding community disagrees with you on that, Fletcher,” Severus Snape said coldly.

 

Sirius couldn’t help himself. “Listen to him, Mundungus,” he called across the room, “because he knows.”

 

Snape very slowly turned to look at Sirius, one pair of dark eyes boring into another. Sirius gave a shrug, returning Snape’s stare with supreme indifference.

 

“Oh, you,” Mundungus muttered ill-humouredly in Snape’s direction. “I s’pose in your case –“

 

“Look, if you two want to make a competition of it,” Sirius said recklessly, “don’t get your hopes up. I win, hands down. I suppose I top even both of you combined.”

 

“That’s not funny,” Minerva McGonagall said very sharply.

 

“It wasn’t meant to be,” Sirius snapped at her.

 

“Then don’t say it.”

 

“But it’s true.”

 

“We’re aware of that, Sirius.”

 

“Maybe not enough for his taste,” Snape said coldly, ignoring the warning hand Minerva McGonagall put on his arm.

 

“I don’t need your pity!” Sirius shot back.

 

“But everyone else’s all the more?”

 

“Oh, just shut up, both of you!” a deep voice suddenly thundered. “You two can go outside and curse each other to pieces for all I care, but right now you’re not going to waste any more of our time!” Alastor Moody had risen abruptly from his chair, wand in hand, one eye flashing darkly at each of the opponents. A ringing silence followed his words.

 

Snape shrugged Minerva McGonagall’s hand off his arm in annoyance, curling his lip disdainfully, but he made no reply.

 

Sirius folded his arms and leant back on his rear chair legs, surveying the damage he had done, and taking a savage pleasure in it.

 

Bill Weasley had moved away from him a little, glancing at him uneasily. Mrs Weasley’s glare was second only to Minerva McGonagall’s, who was looking at Sirius more sternly than he could remember even from seven long years of Transfiguration classes. Dedalus Diggle sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly. Elphias Doge was rolling his eyes at the ceiling. The look on Tonks’s face was sad, almost pained. Only Remus Lupin still sat looking quietly down at the table, his arms put around himself as if he was cold, and seemed to have missed the entire exchange. But at least there was no trace left in any of their faces now of this patronizing sympathy, this sickening embarrassment. Sirius found their genuine indignation so much easier to bear than their dutiful pity.

 

“Thank you, Alastor,” Albus Dumbledore calmly picked up the threads of the conversation again without so much as looking at either Sirius or Snape. “Now, those of you that are interested in continuing this discussion constructively, may I have your attention once more. We were discussing the dangers involved in the task at hand, and I must remind you once again of the risks you will be taking. However, let me repeat that the more we are, the easier it will be for all of us, particularly for those that have so far shouldered the full weight of the task.”

 

“We’ve been doing this in shifts of six hours, two people at a time,” Kingsley Shacklebolt took over again. “And we should keep to this pattern for the moment. To start with, every new volunteer should do this with one of us from the Ministry, to make yourselves familiar with the locality, so you can tell a regular incident from an irregular one.”

 

“Then I suppose I’d better go and join Dad straight away?” Bill Weasley suggested practically.

 

“Yes, do that,” Shacklebolt agreed. “Thank you, Bill. Any more volunteers?”

 

“Me, gladly,” said Sturgis Podmore eagerly.

 

“I wouldn’t want to stay behind,” Dedalus Diggle said in a dignified tone, and Hestia Jones nodded bravely in agreement.

 

“I think I could do a shift or two, too,” Elphias Doge said. “I’m not sure about Emmeline, though. Her health, you know.”

 

“Do ask her,” Dumbledore said. “We need all the help you can give. Unfortunately, not everyone suited to this task seems to be available at the moment. My brother Aberforth apparently can’t even be bothered to answer my letters. There was an undertone of annoyance in his voice.

 

“Oh yes,” said Sturgis Podmore suddenly, “Bill, where are your brothers?”

 

Bill exchanged a look with his mother, who gave a little shake of her head. “Upstairs,” Bill replied diplomatically.

 

“Oh, thank you for reminding me, Bill,” Dumbledore said, smiling at him and his mother. “Yes, I had almost forgotten to tell you, Molly and Arthur Weasley have moved into Headquarters for the time being, and brought their younger children with them. So don’t be surprised if you see one or the other redhead around the house from now on.”

 

“Dumbledore,” growled Moody, who was one of the few that hadn’t smiled at the Headmaster’s last comment, “you don’t consider that a security risk?”

 

“Practically everything we do constitutes a security risk, Alastor,” Dumbledore said. “But be assured, the children will not be involved in any of the Order’s activities, of course they won’t. They’re too young. They have been asked to stay out of our way, and not to ask questions, and I’m sure they will.”

 

“But they will still see things,” Moody objected.

 

“They will, that is inevitable. But I have learned that particularly Ron Weasley and his friend Hermione Granger can be relied on when it comes to knowing when to speak and when to remain silent. They can keep a secret better than most grown up witches and wizards can. But you are right, I should impress this on them once more, to make sure they appreciate the seriousness of the situation. Molly, if they’re not in bed already, I should like to have a word with them after this meeting.”

 

Mrs Weasley nodded.

 

“Then I would ask all our new volunteers to stay behind for a moment. Kingsley Shacklebolt will make you acquainted with the practical details of the task, and draw up a plan for guard duty. Other than that, thank you for your patience, this meeting is concluded.”

 

There was a shuffle of many feet as the witches and wizards got up from their seats. Severus Snape was the first at the door, sweeping wordlessly from the room. Minerva McGonagall followed shortly afterwards, but the majority of the Order remained behind, the new volunteers grouping themselves around Kingsley Shacklebolt at the head of the table, talking excitedly and surveying the plan of the building.

 

Sirius remained sitting where he was, unwelcome to join them as he knew he was, and unconcerned by their excitement as he tried to make himself believe. He stared at a point on the wall opposite and wished they’d all be gone soon.

 

“Sirius?” said Remus Lupin’s voice at his shoulder.

 

Sirius had not heard his friend walk over and take the empty seat next to him, but there he was. Sirius glanced at him briefly and went back to staring at the wall.

 

“Listen,” Lupin said quietly.

 

“No,” Sirius snarled. The cruel satisfaction the confrontation with Snape had given him hadn’t lasted long - on the contrary, it had left him with a rather stale feeling, like a bad taste in his mouth. The last thing he needed now was a sermon from Lupin that his behaviour had been ridiculous. He knew that.

 

“Please,” Lupin was saying.

 

“I don’t want to hear anything.”

 

“Sirius - ”

 

“No.”

 

“I’ll try and explain.”

 

“What’s there to explain?”

 

“A lot,” Lupin said wearily. “See, maybe Tonks didn’t tell you how – “

 

Now Sirius turned sharply to look at his friend, and finally realised that he and Lupin had been missing each other’s point completely. Lupin had had no intention what so ever of preaching to him. On the contrary – he himself had a guilty conscience written all over his tired face, looking very much as if he expected Sirius to explode at any moment and was ready to take the blame for it. Sirius felt incredibly stupid. Lupin looked so weary, so exhausted, and Sirius had only added to his worries with his selfish impatience, with his childish jealousy, and he was adding to them even now with his thick-headed idiocy. And now Lupin was going to apologise to him. Sirius knew he couldn’t bear to hear that.

 

“No. Yes. Forget it,” he said quickly. “Don’t say anything. Please. Forget it. Just forget it.”

 

“Forget what?” Tonks’s voice behind them said cheerfully. “Anyone need a good memory charm?”

 

“Anyone need a good lesson against curiosity?” Sirius snarled back at her, but secretly, he was glad of the interruption. “What are you up to?”

 

“We’re done getting the next week organized,” Tonks said, waving vaguely at Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was putting his parchments back into his briefcase while the rest of the Order filed out of the room. “And Molly’s just gone to get her kids.”

 

“And here they are,” said Dumbledore’s voice.

 

Molly Weasley was back, ushering her charges into the kitchen. They huddled closely together near the door, the girls already in their pyjamas, barefoot under their dressing gowns, but Sirius was quite sure that none of them had been asleep yet. They were staring at the witches and wizards in the room, wide-eyed and very much awake. Even the twins looked rather intimidated by the many known and unknown faces that had turned to them when they entered. Tonks was looking at them with open curiosity. Remus Lupin next to her was smiling, and Hermione caught his eye and returned his smile shyly. Moody was still in his chair at the table, surveying them sharply and looking rather displeased with what he saw. Kingsley Shacklebolt was looking at Ron and Hermione with narrowed eyes, as if he was trying to remember something.

 

“Good evening,” Albus Dumbledore addressed himself kindly to the young Weasleys. “I won’t keep you long. I’m sure your host here, and your mother, have already acquainted you with the peculiarities of this house, so I need not repeat to you to be quiet in the entrance hall, to be careful what you touch, and to be kind to the place’s resident house-elf.” He glanced at Sirius at these words, but Sirius pretended not to notice. “You have already learned that there are certain rules about life in this house,” Dumbledore continued, “and I would like to remind you that they don’t exist just to make life boring and dull, but to ensure everyone’s safety, yours not least. I shall rely on you to understand and remember this. Your parents and your host should not have to remind you of it too often. You will have noticed that secrecy plays a vital part in these rules. Simply by staying in this house, you are being entrusted with a great secret, and you must keep it well. Now, you will want to keep in touch with your friends over the holidays, of course, and you may. But I must ask you to restrict the frequency of your communication to the necessary minimum where owl post to your friends or customers - ” he gave Fred and George a very pointed look over the rim of his half-moon glasses “- is concerned. Owls attract a lot of attention.” He smiled when he saw the dispirited look on the twins’ faces. “I hereby accept full liability for any financial losses you might incur as a consequence of abiding to this rule,” he said, and his eyes twinkled behind his glasses.

 

Mrs Weasley frowned, but she remained silent.

 

“But more importantly,” Dumbledore continued in a grave voice, “you must be careful what you put into your letters. I must impress on you that you are not to tell anyone – anyone – either where you are, or why you are here, what you are doing, who else is here, and what anyone else is doing. I know this is hard, but there is no help for it. It is not safe to put any of it in writing. And there can be no exceptions to this rule.”

 

Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick look.

 

“I want you to give me your word that you won’t do any of this,” Dumbledore said. “Give me your word of honour as witches and wizards that you will not tell anyone about this place, and about what is going on here.”

 

“But Harry,“ muttered Ron, “can’t we tell Harry?”

 

Dumbledore frowned.

 

“Please,” Hermione said in a small voice. “Just that we’re… just that someone is… he’s so desperate to know what’s going on.“ A glance at Dumbledore’s stern face told her that it was no good. She caught Sirius’s eye, and gave him a look that was a desperate plea for support. But Sirius shook his head.

 

“I said there can be no exceptions,” Dumbledore repeated. “And there can’t. Do I have your promise?” He looked intently at each of them in turn with his clear blue eyes.

 

“Yes, we promise,” Hermione finally said resignedly, leading a small chorus of voices that echoed hers.

 

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said, and smiled again. “I knew I could rely on you. You’ll be of great help to the Order of the Phoenix by being true to your word. Now, off you go to bed. Good night to all of you.”

 

 

 

To be continued.