Harry Potter and the Crystal Fire

Chapter 13: Union and Division

Harry and Ron were the last two students to leave the tutoring classroom. Sinon Blunt, the new tutor, glanced up at them as he was gathering his things. Harry had to fight down a wave of resentment. It seemed as though every time he looked at Sinon, the tutor was staring at him as though expecting Harry to announce that he was going to lead a charge against Voldemort right that minute. As though Sinon, looking at Harry, saw danger personified. And worse, as though the new tutor had decided to appoint himself Harry's guardian of the moment.

Alhena--no, Morrigan, Harry corrected himself--had never been like this.

"Things going all right, boys?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. Like his hair, they were such a pale blond that they were nearly without colour, and his beady dark eyes stared at them as though he wanted to smile but wasn't quite certain how to go about it. Harry thought that it seemed as though Sinon only wanted to smile when it would help him in keeping tabs on his students.

"Oh, just fine," Harry said, and met Ron's eyes. They would have to leave, and come back later. Sinon showed absolutely no signs of leaving in a hurry, and Harry didn't want the new tutor to get suspicious about six students hanging about the corridors when they should have been on their way back to their Common Rooms.

Ron nodded. "Right. We'll see you tomorrow then," he said with such false cheer that Harry nearly laughed. Ron had developed a decided dislike for Sinon, stemming from the Potions essays Ron was now being assigned at every Potions tutoring session despite the fact that he was not taking N.E.W.T Potions.

Sinon's eyebrows rose again, and his lips stretched into an expression Harry assumed was meant to be a smile. "Tomorrow," he said seriously, and nodded as though to fix the date in his head. He watched the boys closely as they walked toward the door, his dark eyes gleaming intently.

Harry pulled Ron out the door by the arm, and when they were in the Entrance Hall, they stared at each other.

"Nice sense of humour, that one," Ron muttered.

"We've got to get back to the classroom. How are we supposed to know for sure that he's gone?" Harry muttered back. Movement on the second-floor landing caught his eye, and he saw Ginny, Hermione, Luna, and Neville standing at the top of the first marble staircase. He and Ron started up the staircase, and made the landing just as the second section of the staircase began to swing.

"We've got to get back into the classroom," Harry told the others, and they nodded. "But he's still there. And he was watching us again."

"Did he get that fake smile on his face?" Ginny asked, sighing.

Harry and Ron nodded glumly.

"Right. Then he'll be waiting around in the room," Ginny said with authority. Harry wondered how she knew this. He decided, as he often had with the twins, that it would be better not to know.

"Best bet is to use the Marauder's Map," Neville said with a nod. "If we go back to our Common Rooms, then check in an hour, we should be able to get down to the classroom and back up before curfew."

Harry nodded, and turned to Luna. "We'll meet back here in an hour, unless we get word to you that it's no good."

"Oh, it'll be fine," Luna said dreamily, and laughed. "But I suppose it's best to have a plan anyway." She and Ginny grinned at each other, then they all began walking up the staircase toward their common rooms. When they reached the 4th floor, Luna turned off the staircase and went off toward the hidden entrance to Ravenclaw Tower and the Ravenclaw Common Room. The others continued upward.

Neville gave the password to the Fat Lady rather absently, as though he could no long be bothered about forgetting it, and the Portrait-Hole swung open to reveal what appeared to be a nearly-empty Common Room. They stepped into the room only to find that the Common Room was actually fairly crowded, but that the other students were all smashed into one side of the room, clustered around the notice board. Ginny and Hermione went over to examine the latest notice, while Harry, Ron, and Neville claimed the best squashy armchairs near the fire.

"Notice from Fudge's office at the Ministry," Ginny said, raising her eyebrows as she looked at Harry. "Perpetrators of the attacks have been caught, Hogsmeade weekends are reinstated," she said, rolling her eyes. "Honestly. As if it's likely that they caught those Death Eaters. They don't even know for certain who it was, I'll bet. Percy probably wrote that," she said darkly. Ron snorted, half in disgust and half in amusement. Harry and Neville grinned outright. Even Hermione's lips twitched as she fought laughter.

Harry gave his armchair over to Ginny and went upstairs to retrieve the Marauder's Map. When he'd sat back down on the floor between Neville's and Ginny's chairs, he unrolled it after checking to be sure that everyone was still intent on the notice board, and tapped it.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said softly, tapped the map with his wand, and waited. Immediately, the outlines of Hogwarts appeared, populated with tiny moving dots. Harry scanned them quickly. The dots labelled "Minerva McGonagall" and "Severus Snape" were in their offices, as was the dot labelled "Albus Dumbledore." But in Dumbledore's office there was another dot, which seemed to be pacing back and forth. It was labelled "Malcolm Carrick."

"There must be something going on," Ron said, reading over Harry's shoulder. "Otherwise Malcolm wouldn't be anywhere near the castle. Wonder how he got in?" he asked absently.

"Front door, I'd imagine," Ginny said, shrugging. "What about the tutoring classroom, Harry?" she asked.

"Sinon Blunt," Harry read with a sigh, then rolled up the map as two first-years came over to ask Hermione whether Donald Ferguson should be turning purple and sprouting wings. With a long-suffering sigh, Ron accompanied her over to the other end of the room, where several of the first-years had been practicing Transfiguration.

"Point your wand at the thing you want Transfigured, not just anywhere," Harry heard Hermione instructing the first-years patiently, and looked at Ginny and Neville. They snorted with laughter and turned around, ignoring the glare Hermione directed their way as she performed the counterspell and Donald Ferguson's new wings disappeared and his colour returned to normal.

"Harry, about the game against Slytherin. There's only a month before it, and we still don't really have a good strategy," Ron pointed out, sitting back down in his squashy armchair. "You said that the Slytherins have new players, and they're good. And a lot bigger than we are. So how are we going to figure out a strategy? I've got too many things rolling around my head to think about it long enough to manage one."

"We should owl Wood," Ginny said with a decisive nod. "It would make his day brighter, don't you think, being asked for advice on the Slytherin match? And he's been moved up from the Puddlemere Reserve team to the Regulars, earlier than expected. So he can't have changed much, can he?"

Harry and Ron grinned at each other. "Right," they said together. "And we should talk to Fred and George as well," Ron added, and pulled parchment and his quill out of his bag. "I'll write to the twins, Harry. You write Oliver. Ginny, we'll need your help so we don't sound like we're just trying to get them to do it all for us."

"Even though you are," Hermione pointed out, though she seemed more amused than irritated. Harry had a feeling that, having finally gotten through to them all about the importance of their studies, Hermione was willing to let them get away with a little corner-cutting when it came to Quidditch.

"Right. Well, you can't do it all, can you?" Ron muttered vaguely, already immersed in his letter. Harry nodded in Hermione's direction, busily writing his own letter. Not only was it a good idea, but writing to Oliver and the twins gave them a perfect excuse to get to the Owlery if they needed to tell Luna that the meeting was off.

In less than a half-hour, Harry and Ron were on their way to the Owlery with a letter for Wood, a letter for the twins, and a note for Luna, just in case it was needed. Inside the Owlery, Harry checked the Marauder's Map and found the tutoring classroom empty. He slipped the note for Luna into his bag. He gave Hedwig a few owl treats and petted her for a few minutes before giving her the letter to Wood and watching her leave by way of the large open window in the top of the wall. A few minutes later, she was followed by Pigwidgeon, and Harry and Ron headed for the tutoring classroom, to wait for the others. Neither of them noticed the dark figure that followed them through the corridors.

*

A half-hour later, the six of them were standing in the tutoring classroom, and Hermione was checking the room for jinxes or curses or Listening spells. A short time afterward, she performed a Silencing Spell, then an Imperturbable Charm.

"Lucky for us he finally left," Harry muttered. "It's not like we had all night, you know?"

"He's mental," Ron said with a nod. "I mean, really. Does he have to watch us all the time, like he's taking notes? It's creepy. *He's* creepy."

"I don't know," Neville protested. "Morrigan told us about the new tutor. He can't be as bad as he seems." He paused for a moment and considered that idea, as the others stared at him as though he'd suggested that Professor Snape was a kind, gentle man. "Can he?" Neville asked weakly. The others simply watched him with sympathetic expressions. Neville sighed and moved closer to the teacher's desk in the empty classroom, where Harry was holding his Chocolate Frog card. He seemed to be examining it carefully. After a few minutes of utter silence, Hermione and Ginny moved closer to Harry and stared at the card, too.

"It's different," Harry said after a moment, and Hermione and Ginny nodded. The others took their cards out, and looked at them, seeing no difference. Then they tapped the cards with their wands and spoke their passwords, and stared at the letters that appeared on the cards.

"Chocolate Frog Cards: Wizarding Hall of Fame Edition! Wizarding Fun Facts! #1: The full moon is tomorrow night," they read silently, and looked at each other.

"Professor Lupin," Hermione said after a moment. "We can't contact Professor Lupin. Not around the full moon."

They nodded, and Ginny read the next bit out loud. "#2: Vampires can be found all over Britain, and are approachable, using adequate precautions, after sundown." She laughed. "I suppose that's our hint to call Tristan first."

"Here's another one," Ron said with a shake of his head. "Guess who wrote it. 'Red-headed male twins are the most powerful magical beings in the world and should be approached with due reverence and respect. They can and will help you with anything at all, at any old time, especially if it's important."

Harry grinned. "Good to know Fred and George haven't changed much in a week or two."

"Sure it wasn't Malcolm?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Could have been, at that," Ron said thoughtfully. "It wasn't exactly clear whether the red-headed male twin had freckles or not." He and Harry grinned at each other and shrugged.

"Tristan," Hermione told Harry sternly. He sighed and looked back at his card, but not so quickly that he missed the sparkle of laughter in her eyes.

Harry tapped his Chocolate Frog card with his wand again, and the small inset frame where, up until a few minutes ago, Albus Dumbledore's picture had resided, went blank. The entire card glowed golden, then subsided, and Tristan's face appeared inside the frame. In the background, there was a great deal of noise, as though someone was rearranging every stick of furniture in Tristan's house at once. Tristan appeared not to notice this.

"Harry?" Tristan asked, an eyebrow raised. "What's up?"

"Tell him we'll owl him and Ron back about Quidditch!" called a voice somewhere on Tristan's side of the conversation. It was clearly Fred or George, though Harry wasn't quite sure which one it was. In any event, the interruption had no effect on Tristan, who simply waited for Harry to say something.

"Well, we needed to tell you lot about something," Harry said after a moment. "About Percy."

The general clamour in the background stopped instantly, then restarted louder than ever--only this time, it was Charlie, Fred, and George asking questions. A moment later, Harry and the others heard a female voice rise above the others to say, "Silencio!" There was silence, then the woman's voice said, "Go ahead, Tris."

"Thanks, Gwynne," Tristan said, sounding distinctly amused. When his face turned back to look at Harry, Harry saw the queer gleam in Tristan's eyes that would have been laughter had Tristan been anyone else. Harry grinned.

"Ron got another owl from Percy this morning," Harry explained. "Hang on, it's better if Ron explains it to you. It was *his* owl, after all."

Ron explained about the owl--what time it had arrived, what the note had said, how Hermes had flown off without waiting for a response. When he had finished, there was utter silence in Tristan's parlour for a long moment.

"So he didn't ask you for a response?" Gwynne asked, and Harry and the others saw her face come into focus on their cards. "There wasn't any write-me-tomorrow or meet-me-at-midnight-under-the-tallest-tree kind of thing?"

"No," Ron said, then rolled his eyes. "As if I'd meet the great git anywhere," he added scornfully. "What's he thinking, that's what I want to know. Has he gone mad, or is he just incredibly stupid?"

The sounds of a struggle in the background indicated that Fred, George, or Charlie, or all three, had very definite opinions on that score and were trying to express them in a decidedly violent fashion.

"Next one of you who moves gets Leg-Locked," Tristan said mildly. The commotion ended swiftly.

"He definitely seems to think that he can get you a job at the Ministry over the summer," Gwynne said, frowning. "And that's not the usual course of things. In fact, I can't think of a single underage Wizard or Witch who ever worked at the Ministry during summer holidays. Can you, Tris?"

"Not a one," Tristan said grimly.

"Charlie? Fred? George?" Gwynne asked, and though no noise was made, she apparently received a negative response from each, because she nodded her head in agreement. "This is definitely worth our checking out," Gwynne added. "Obviously, we've got people who can try and verify the possibility within the Ministry, but it won't be easy to do without arousing suspicion, and it will take some time to do properly. Still, better that we know now--we can get to work on it before it becomes crucial."

Ron nodded, feeling better about Percy's owl than he had all day.

"You should definitely consider telling your father, at least," Tristan said. Ron looked alarmed at the mere idea of trying to explain to his father that Percy thought Arthur Weasley was a total disgrace. "I know you won't want to tell him everything," Tristan added, his black eyes sympathetic. "A lot of that rot isn't the kind of thing you'd want him to hear. But the part about the summer job--now, that's something your Dad should know, Ron. Because the fact that he's offering it at all could put you in danger. It could make you some kind of a target. We don't know enough yet to be certain. But it's a very real consideration."

Reluctantly, Ron nodded. "Make Charlie, Fred, and George promise not to tell Dad," he said, and Tristan, grinning, nodded in reply.

"I'll make sure of it," Tristan promised. "You make sure you consider telling him. Very soon."

Ron nodded again, though he didn't look happy about the prospect of that conversation with his father. "I will, I guess. But it's not going to be such a terrific thing to talk about, if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Tristan said with a nod. He'd had difficult conversations of quite another sort with his own father, not so long ago. But he'd been older than Ron was now, and his revelations had dealt only with himself.

In the background, a door opened and shut, then a flash of dark red hair and blue eyes came into view over Tristan's shoulder. "You lot had better get back," came Bill Weasley's voice from behind Tristan. "Hi, Ron," he added, and Ron grinned. "Hi, Ginny." Ginny beamed at her oldest brother and waved. "I know damned well you've got to be back in your Common Rooms by nine. It's almost half-past that now."

Ginny laughed. Harry and Ron sighed. Hermione looked resigned. Luna looked dreamily indifferent. Neville groaned.

"We'll get back to you if there's anything we find out about the Ministry or...the other," Tristan amended as Bill's eyes narrowed.

"Right. Find out if *the other* wrote that ridiculous notice from the Ministry today, the one about how the Death Eaters who attacked Hogsmeade have been arrested, and about how Hogsmeade visits have been reinstated," Harry said sarcastically, and saw Tristan's and Bill's eyes narrow in concentration.

"They've been reinstated?" Tristan asked, disbelief dripping from his words.

"They've been caught?" Bill asked, utterly shocked.

"Yes and not hardly," Ginny replied, "at least as far as we're concerned. The Ministry seems to think differently."

"We'll get to work on it," Tristan said, and after another moment or two, they all spoke the spell that disconnected the cards.

Harry and the others sighed, and began working out the best way to get from the tutoring classroom through the entrance hall and up to their Common Rooms without being caught out. Harry hadn't brought the Invisibility Cloak; it was useless with six people, and he hadn't expected a simple conversation to have taken so long that they would have been out after curfew.

After a minimum of discussion, Harry sent Ginny, Neville, and Luna upstairs first. Almost as soon as they had gone, Harry, Ron and Hermione left the classroom. They went in different directions, up three different staircases, in hopes of the fewest number of them being caught.

The dark figure that had followed them down from the Common Room followed Harry up the far staircase that led to the Transfiguration classrooms. It wasn't until Harry had reached the Transfiguration corridor and realised that he would have to backtrack past Professor McGonagall's office that he heard the quiet footsteps behind him. He stopped and looked behind him. He saw the figure as it slipped behind an open classroom door and merged with the darker shadows.

Harry felt the blood in his veins turn to ice, then just as quickly he felt fury burn through him. After all he'd been through in the past year, there was no way he was going to let some shadowy figure scare him. Not here, not in Hogwarts.

Not now, when he had so many more friends to count on than he'd ever had before.

He considered going back down the corridor and confronting the shadowy figure, and discarded that idea as foolish. It was one thing to be unafraid. It was another to be stupid. So he hurried on quietly down the hall, and heard the footsteps start up again. This time he looked back over his shoulder. The figure, shadowy as it had been before, seemed smaller. Harry was fairly certain that it wasn't smaller simply because he'd decided not to be afraid of it. He doubted the person, whoever it was, came up to his shoulder. He looked again as he gained the main corridor leading to the staircase, and his eyes narrowed. He decided that he'd been wrong. The person probably came to just above his elbow. Still too tall to be Colin or Dennis, given the height Harry had gained over the summer. But definitely too small to be a teacher. Too small, in fact, to be anyone but a very young student.

Harry ducked around the corner, forgetting curfew, forgetting danger, forgetting everything but his irritation at being followed around and his gratitude that Hermione had Charmed the empty classroom against eavesdroppers. The footsteps quickened, as though the person was afraid of losing Harry around the corner. The footsteps, nearly running now, approached. Harry tensed. And when he was certain that his follower was standing no more than a foot or two away, just around the corner, he made his move.

He'd been right, Harry saw as he grabbed the person. His hand clamped over the struggling boy's mouth to stop the ominous sounds that were issuing from his mouth, Harry sighed. His anger fled, leaving him drained. The shadowy figure who had been following Harry around was none other than his cousin.

Mark Evans.

"Stop fighting me, would you? I'm not going to hurt you, but you're going to have Filch on us in three seconds if you don't shut up," Harry hissed, and on hearing Harry's voice, Mark stopped struggling. He also stopped trying to yell, which reassured Harry, who took his hand away from Mark's mouth. The kid wasn't entirely stupid, then. Still, he'd been following Harry around wearing his outdoor cloak, hood up, and that didn't speak well for his intelligence, Harry thought. As soon as his cousin opened his mouth again, Harry changed his mind.

"I was trying to hide in the shadows. That's why I put on my cloak, I look darker then," Mark gasped. "I heard Katie Bell talking...in the Common Room...The professors are patrolling the hallways after curfew now. I was following you to warn you, in case you didn't know." Mark gulped in a deep breath, then went on a bit guiltily. "Well, and I wanted to know what you were doing."

Harry couldn't help it. He grinned. "Well, the last thing we should be doing is hanging around out here, if they're patrolling. Come on."

Mark beamed up at him. "You're my cousin, did you know, Harry?" he whispered.

Harry hesitated, then nodded as they began to climb the stairs quietly. "I know," he said softly.

Mark's face fell. Harry had never felt so guilty in his life. "Oh," Mark said, nearly silently. He seemed to be crushed, as though it were his fault that Harry had avoided having anything to do with him since start of term.

"Look, Mark, it's not that I don't like you or anything," Harry whispered as they turned a corner in a staircase and continued upward. "It's just that...well, I found out just before start of term, and at a really bad time, in a really bad way. And I didn't know how to handle it, that's all."

"You could have said something," Mark said, sounding for all the world like he was going to cry.

Harry felt his heart drop into his shoes.

"I should have said something," Harry corrected his cousin. Mark looked up at him, with eyes that were suspiciously bright. "But I didn't, and I was wrong." Why, Harry wondered, did it feel so good to admit it? "See, I'd just found out about some other cousins I have, ones no one knew about--kind of like no one knew about you," he said, surprised to find himself amused by that fact. "They told me about you. And then...well, something happened, and I didn't handle it well. I got mad at them, and I....well, I kind of tried to ignore everything they'd told me. To just assume that they'd been wrong about everything." Harry thought a moment as they turned onto another staircase, then went on. "Then I got here and found out they'd been right about you, and I didn't know how to deal with that." Harry fell silent, wondering how to explain it all properly.

"Harry," Mark said, tugging on Harry's sleeve.

"No, I--" Harry was bound and determined to get this right. He knew what it felt like to be unwanted and ignored, and he was appalled at himself for having caused that same feeling in another person. Having caused it intentionally, without thinking about what it might be making Mark feel. He hadn't thought of Mark as a person, just as one more thing Morrigan had been right about.

Who knew better than he did what it felt like to be thought of as a thing, rather than a person?

"Harry?"

The urgency in Mark's voice finally got through to Harry, and he realised that they had stopped walking. He looked at Mark, who looked suddenly terrified. He looked up.

His stomach lurched.

Standing there, smiling, looking for all the world like an overjoyed ogre, was Argus Filch.

They'd been caught.

*

An hour or two after the conversation with Harry and the others, Tristan's house was quiet. Bill and Gwynne had left soon afterward, Bill because he didn't want to hear about the latest plans given his situation at work and Gwynne because she'd only stopped by for a cup of tea. Tristan, Charlie, and the twins were sitting around in Tristan's parlour, having decided to leave the matter of Percy and the summer job until Percy's brothers were able to discuss it in a rational manner.

Tristan sighed and leaned back in his chair. His uncharacteristic smile was enough to have Charlie eying him suspiciously, though it seemed to have reassured Fred and George that all was right with the world.

"What's to smile about?" Charlie finally asked, after ten minutes of absolute silence during which he, due to his position in the chair facing Tristan, had been forced to watch Tristan smile at nothing. "Someone's been listening in on our plans, so to speak. Morrigan or Alhena or whoever the hell she was has been forced into hiding. Remus is gone for the next few nights. Bill's driving himself insane trying to figure out who's been picking his brain, and those two," he said, nodding at the twins, "have been all over hell and back without telling anyone exactly where they've been."

Tristan just grinned. "Take it easy, Charlie," he said simply. "It might not seem like it, but things are actually looking up."

Something in Tristan's voice, the merest hint of self-satisfaction, brought Charlie to attention. "What's looking up?" he asked, his brown eyes intent on Tristan.

"Fred and George were all over hell and back finding out about Morrigan's new situation," Tristan told Charlie. "She's got a job. A good one, and a good one for hiding out at. She's also sent us a few names--people she thinks ought to be either invited to join the Order or at least invited to work hand-in-hand with it."

"Where is she?" Charlie asked.

Tristan shrugged. "Twins didn't tell me. I didn't ask. The fewer people who know where she actually is, the better." Which, he thought silently, was exactly why her new job suited their purposes so well.

"Dumbledore knows," Fred said, nodding. "And then, of course, there's George and me. And we only know because she asked us to come specially."

"You're too busy with the dragons, Charlie," George offered, a mock-comforting tone that held more mockery than comfort. Charlie aimed an obscene gesture in George's direction, but without heat. On learning that the Death Eaters were hunting for Morrigan-Alhena, he had been absolutely appalled. And he'd have been lying if he'd said that the news hadn't stirred up some dark old memories. After getting Tristan's owl, he hadn't really felt warm again for days.
"How the two of you ever find time to squeeze in everything you do is beyond me," Charlie said, then shrugged. It always seemed as though the twins, maybe because there were two of them, managed to get twice as much done as the normal wizard, in less than half the time.

"Oh, we have our ways," George said. He looked at Fred, who looked back at him. They laughed uproariously.

"There's a meeting at headquarters tomorrow night," Tristan said, and they all looked at him. "The information that Morrigan passed on needs to be addressed. From something Mal said earlier today, I have a feeling there are a few more surprises we'll be learning about. "

"Related to the information Mor passed along?" George asked, interested.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Tristan replied. "She does manage to get herself into situations where she finds out things no one else would be able to in such a short time," he added. For the first time, a flicker of worry passed through his eyes. He was well aware, if the others were not, that the reason Morrigan managed to uncover so much information, was that she was simply unafraid to take risks others would refuse to even consider.

It was one of many things about the current situation that made him nervous. He had a hard time being comfortable with any turn of events that left Morrigan out on her own, without anyone to rein her in. Just because she wasn't in the thick of things anymore, so to speak, didn't mean that she was out of danger.

With Morrigan, he thought, the danger often came from within.

And if she was alone, there was no one to help her avoid it.

*

Harry sighed as he made his way up to his dormitory, walking behind Mark. Funny, he thought tiredly, but he'd stopped thinking of his cousin as 'Mark Evans'. The kid had become Mark, and Harry supposed that Mark he would remain. Tired as he was, Harry had to admit that the kid had a lot of courage. He'd been trembling hard enough that Harry had thought he'd fall over with it, but Mark had stood firm in the face of Filch and Mrs. Norris, answering Filch's questions as though he wasn't nervous in the slightest. Harry doubted he'd done as well himself the first time--or the second, for that matter--that he'd been caught out after hours by Filch.

They'd been in Filch's office for an hour, while Filch ranted and raved and shuffled papers about on his desk, looking for forms he didn't need. Mark had been pale as milk, but hadn't made a sound as Filch told them of the hideous punishments he had planned for their detention. Harry, who'd heard the entire list before, hadn't been much bothered. Mark had trembled harder with each and every new horror mentioned, but he hadn't broken down.

When Filch had stormed out of his office for a moment, supposedly in search of thumbscrews, Harry had leaned over and whispered the story of the Kwikspell Course brochure in Mark's ear. That had been the turning point. When Filch had come back, he'd found them both grinning from ear to ear. It hadn't taken him long to finish things after that, and all mention of torturous punishments had disappeared from his grumbling. Harry had a feeling that he wasn't the only one who remembered the Kwikspell incident.

They stopped at the door to Mark's dormitory. Mark looked up at Harry gloomily.

"Sorry I got you in trouble, Harry," he said, miserably. He hung his head, and Harry thought, amused, that if it had been possible, Mark might have sunk through the floor.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, with a great deal more cheer than he actually felt. "It's not the end of the world. It's just a detention." He forced himself to try to believe this, and to forget what Professor McGonagall was likely to say when she found out he'd been out after hours. Especially given the situation. He had a feeling that using the new Ministry announcement as justification for not being very careful wouldn't do him much good there.

"Yeah, but..."

"Don't worry about it," Harry repeated, more emphatically, and surprised himself into a laugh. "It won't be so bad. You should have been here when the Weasley twins were here. They wouldn't even be worried about one detention."

Mark grinned for the first time in well over an hour. "See you tomorrow then, Harry."

"See you tomorrow, Mark."

Harry went on up the steps to his own dormitory and found it surprisingly easy to get to sleep despite everything that had happened.

*

The good news, Harry decided, was that Hedwig returned with Wood's owl before Professor McGonagall had caught up with him in the Great Hall. That had made it possible for him to have ten minutes of the day to feel good about something before he had to deal with what had happened last night.

After spending a few minutes patting Hedwig in appreciation for her having returned so quickly, Harry turned to Wood's letter, and unfolded it.

Harry,

I couldn't be happier to hear that you've been chosen Quidditch Captain this year. I mean, I know that Katie's got more experience and Ron played all last year while you didn't, but really, McGonagall made a solid choice. I'm sure that all the time you spent not playing last year will have absolutely no effect on your play this season.

As far as the Slytherin match, I'll do some thinking and owl you back. Things are very busy these days, as several players have recently come up from the Reserve team and we've got to break them in. We've got a new Seeker, reminds me quite a bit of Charlie Weasley--fiercer flyer you've never seen. Well, reminds me of Charlie Weasley if he'd actually done something useful like play professionally instead of going to work with dragons, anyway. Reminds me a bit of you, too, if you had a bit more experience under your belt. So we've got a good Seeker, but there's always room for improvement, and we're putting in some long hours getting things up to snuff for our last matches of the season.

Well, I should have a few hours free over the weekend, so I'll get back to you soon. Don't want Slytherin getting too much of an advantage over us. You'll need the time to practice. I'd recommend three or four hours a night, five or six nights a week. Though of course you're Captain, and it's your decision.

If it's possible, I'm going to try and get to the Slytherin match. The team should be in the area about then, and some of them seem to think it might be fun to sit around and watch a match rather than play in one. It takes all kinds, I suppose.

Oliver Wood

Harry snickered and showed the letter to Ron. Ron scanned the letter, and when he got to the bit about Charlie, he burst out laughing. "Don't let me forget to tell Charlie he should have done something useful with his life," Ron gasped, and Harry was about to respond when Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the laughter like a knife.

"Potter. Would you be so kind as to follow me to my office?"

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. They looked back at him apprehensively. With a silent sigh, Harry gathered his things and followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall. He wasn't surprised to find Mark waiting outside the door, looking far more frightened than he had in Filch's office the night before.

Harry couldn't blame him. Professor McGonagall was definitely the scarier of the two. And she did not look pleased with either one of them at the moment. On the contrary, she looked as though she would cheerfully have strangled both Harry and Mark for a few sickles. Harry would have felt a great deal less guilty had Professor McGonagall not been so nice to him about Hogsmeade and Morrigan earlier in the year.

"This way, please," Professor McGonagall commanded them sternly, and set off down the corridor at a pace that left Mark nearly trotting after her. When they had arrived in her office, she sat down at her desk and pointed her wand at the door, shutting it firmly and rather loudly. Harry suddenly had a very bad feeling about this little meeting.

"Mr. Evans. You were caught outside of Gryffindor Tower last night by Mr. Filch, after hours." Professor McGonagall's lips were so thin they were in danger of disappearing. Mark hung his head after nodding.

"Mr. Potter. You were also caught outside of Gryffindor Tower last night by Mr. Filch, after hours."

"I was," Harry said, nodding. "Caught red-handed," he added honestly, without thinking. He immediately wished he could take the words back. Professor McGonagall didn't seem to be in the mood for humour this morning.

Unexpectedly, her scowl disappeared. Harry wouldn't have said that she smiled, exactly, but her lips became a little less thin, and her eyes warmed ever so slightly.

"You both have detention with Professor Snape, tonight, beginning at 8pm. I am very tempted to give you another detention, Potter, for encouraging Mr. Evans, a first year to be out of the Tower after hours--"

"Oh, no, Professor McGonagall," Mark burst out, clearly unable to stop himself. He looked both horrified and impressed by his daring. Harry was hard put not to laugh. "I was out of the tower on my own, Professor. Honestly. I only met Harry as we were coming back up the staircase. Honestly!"

Professor McGonagall's expression did not change, but Harry got the distinct impression that she was trying not to laugh.

"Potter?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Harry nodded. "We only met on our way back to the Common Room," he said. It was with profound amazement that he heard himself add, "We got to talking about being cousins, I guess, and we didn't see Mr. Filch until it was too late to dodge him."

Mark goggled at Harry, obviously torn between admiration and shock. The expression on Professor McGonagall's face was not much different. Harry couldn't tell whether her surprise was due to the revelation that he and Mark were cousins, or his own colossal stupidity.

"See that it doesn't happen again," she managed, and pointed toward the door. Harry stood up and walked toward the door, Mark following him like a shadow. "Oh, and Potter?" she asked.

Harry stopped and turned. Mark bumped into him. Professor McGonagall had to fight back a smile; Harry saw it distinctly that time. "The next time you decide to risk practice time by taking a walk around the halls after hours, see to it that I don't have to discuss it with you the next morning, will you?" she asked.

"Uh, sure," Harry replied, and gave her a grin before heading out the door, Mark in tow.

Harry thought he heard her laughing softly as they headed back toward the Great Hall.

*

The kitchen at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had never, in any of their memory, been so packed full of people. It appeared that every single member of the Order was crammed into the kitchen. Most were standing, though a lucky few had gotten there early enough to have found seats. Still, there were notable absences: Bill Weasley had been called in to work; Remus Lupin was, because of the full moon, away; Severus Snape was back at Hogwarts; the Carrick twins were not present.

"I'm glad you could all be here tonight," Albus Dumbledore began from his squashy armchair beside the kitchen fire. "This will not be a long meeting, but it is a necessary one." He paused for a moment, his bright blue eyes scanning the room and its occupants, before going on.

"I think you'll all agree that we have set ourselves a goal that is proving difficult to accomplish with the resources we currently have." Dumbledore waited, received nods in response, and nodded. "Voldemort is becoming more active, and we are being spread far too thin. Many of our best assets inside the Ministry are working round the clock to apprehend the Death Eaters responsible for the attacks over the last few months." He nodded at Tonks and Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley and Hestia Jones, and went on. "There are limits on what everyone can accomplish, given our need for secrecy. But every time we look around and take stock of the situation, there is another need pressing on us. Every time we take stock, we find ourselves stretched further. Too much further. So it's time for each of us to make a choice.

"There are essentially two options open to us. One: we work on finding people to work with us, either inside or outside the Order of the Phoenix, so that we can keep working toward our current goals. Or two: we pare down our goals to the absolute essentials."

Dumbledore fell silent, waiting for someone to speak.

Shocking everyone, Fred and George spoke first. Standing by the window, leaning against the wall, they were easily a head taller than anyone around them, and George drew every eye when he began to speak. "Well, it seems that if we choose to pare things down to the absolute essentials, we're accepting the idea of necessary casualties," he said. This caused a rumble of dissent among the others in the room, but he held up a hand for silence.

Fred continued. "If we pare things down to the absolute essentials, we won't be patrolling Hogsmeade during school weekends. We won't be keeping an eye on known Death Eaters. We'll be concentrating on what to do if we have a chance at Voldemort." He ignored the gasps and winces.

George picked up the thread. "We won't know anything valuable about what they're doing until it's too late to stop most of it. That means that people will die. Worse, it means that people will die because we're too suspicious, or too full of our own importance, to give others a chance to help us."

Fred nodded solemnly, his bright blue eyes bright with conviction. "We vote for letting other people in on this. There simply aren't enough of us to go round. And we're not going to get a great many more chances at stopping him--not before he's so powerful that there's no stopping him at all."

Charlie joined them near the window. "I vote for letting other people in. So does Bill--he talked to you, Albus, when he told you he couldn't come. But he asked me to make sure to make his viewpoint known. We all stand together," he said, leaning back against the wall next to the twins.

"That's ridiculous," Hestia Jones snapped. "Saying that we're willing to let people die because we're too full of our own importance. The idea!" she huffed, glaring at the Weasley brothers.

"Or because we're too suspicious of others," George pointed out mildly, putting a hand on Fred's arm to restrain his brother, who was all but trembling with the need to deliver a good put-down.

"When you get right down to it, though," Tristan's deep voice asked, "does it really matter why it happens? If we refuse to let more people in, we will fail at our current goals. We know that. If, knowing that, we still refuse to let more in, we're as good as approving the idea that some people will have to die if Voldemort's going to be defeated. The particular reason we shut ourselves off isn't important. It's the fact that it gets done at all that will defeat us. I suppose it's obvious, but for the record, I'm with the Weasleys."

Hestia Jones glared at all of them, then sniffed. "Well, if you haven't lived long enough to value your necks, I certainly have. I vote no more strangers. Look what happened last time round."

"Last time round," Arthur Weasley pointed out mildly, "the traitor wasn't a stranger. He was a friend." He shook his head sadly at the memory, then looked at Dumbledore. "I'm with my boys. There's too much to do, and too many to protect. We need more allies. If more blood is spilled, it won't be for lack of our trying to prevent it." Molly nodded her agreement, and Dumbledore smiled at her.

Tonks and Shacklebolt were deep in a whispered discussion, Charlie saw, which he thought didn't bode well for their siding with the Weasleys. Then Kingsley raised his head, and Charlie met Tonks' eyes. She gave him a quick wink, and he couldn't hold back his grin.

"We're all for adding new allies. Not all of them members, necessarily, but allies we certainly need. We can't possibly get enough done as we are to make a real difference. And without our making a real difference, history will just repeat itself. People will be too frightened to make a stand, and he--Voldemort--will simply move in without any real opposition." Kingsley looked unusually solemn, his bald head and his gold earring gleaming in the candlelight.

By contrast, Tonks looked almost obscenely sunny with her bright yellow hair and orange robes. "His best chance at taking over is to frighten people into agreeing with him, or ignoring him. And if we don't maximize our chances of preventing that, we're basically accepting defeat. So I'm with Kingsley and the others. We need more people." Straight off a twenty-four hour shift, she couldn't prevent her yawn. "But it would be really, really nice if we still had the Carricks around. We could use them, especially now that they're not with the department any longer," she said softly. Dumbledore smiled when she said it, and Tonks smiled back wearily.

"That's an issue for another time," was Dumbledore's answer, and the finality with which he gave it effectively ended the small wave of protest Tonks' words had begun.

Charlie looked at Tristan, who looked back at him silently but with well-hidden satisfaction. They had both noticed that the protest against Malcolm and Morrigan's involvement with the Order was significantly smaller than it had been only a month and a half ago.

Around the kitchen, one person after another gave their opinion on the issue. The Weasleys certainly weren't alone in thinking that more help was needed, but neither was Hestia Jones in opposing the addition of anyone new. The count was closer to even than Charlie would have believed possible when he and Bill had discussed the issue the previous night. He wasn't looking forward to telling Bill the outcome of the vote. Bill had decided to stay away from the meeting, as he had every junior Order meeting since discovering the problem at Gringotts, on a better-safe-than-sorry theory. Charlie knew Bill would far rather have been here, trying to convince them all that they could never win without help.

"None of what we do, Fidelius Charm notwithstanding, is without risk," Dumbledore said, after silence had settled over the kitchen. "None of us are guaranteed to survive this War. And none of us want to see anyone die--not Order members, not innocent bystanders, not Muggles. No one." Dumbledore looked around the room, saw nods of agreement, and, satisfied, popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth. "In view of these facts, I want to put the question to you another way.

"How dedicated are all of you to the work the Order is going? To the defeat of Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes burning intensely behind his half-moon spectacles. "In other words, if I choose to add new Order members, or if I choose to set up a network of allies for the Order, how many of you will leave?"

The silence that greeted this question was heavy and charged. No one seemed to want to be the first person to speak.

"I'm sticking around," Fred said. The lack of defiance in his answer was enough to have his parents turning around to look at him. "I'm in for as long as it takes," he added simply.

"I'm not leaving until he's gone or I am," George added without drama.

"Bill and I are in. Until the end," Charlie said quietly.

Molly Weasley's eyes filled with tears, and she smiled at her sons. "Arthur and I are in. We'll always fight against wizards like V...Vol... oh, hell, Voldemort. Against them, and against what they stand for." Arthur nodded, and his hand closed over his wife's.

"We're in, the three of us," Tristan declared without drama, nodding to indicate Nicholas and Gwynne, who moved to stand beside him. "As are Remus and Severus." He spoke with the casual assurance of one who had discussed this matter at length with the people involved. Charlie had no doubt that, somehow, Tristan had managed to do just that.

Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Alastor Moody, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and a few others answered immediately that they were in the Order no matter what Dumbledore decided about new members. Dedalus Diggle, Mundungus Fletcher, Emmeline Vance, and Sinon Blunt were somewhat less quick to answer, but no less sincere about their intention to remain with the Order regardless of any new members that were recruited. The rest of the room remained uncomfortably silent.

Dumbledore seemed unsurprised, and unruffled. "Then I have this suggestion to make," he told them all, though it was fairly clear that he was not suggesting as much as telling everyone the way it would be. "We will meet here again, in one week. One week is all that we can afford. Think about your answer carefully, because that is when I will require you to decide." He stood, cast a quick, proud glance at the Weasley brothers, and Disapparated from the room with a soft pop.

*

Harry spoke the password and dragged himself through the Portrait Hole at eleven that night. Mark followed him, his eyes half-closed. They'd spent three hours moving racks of potions and chopping ingredients and enduring no end of harassment from Professor Snape, and they were both worn out. Harry, walking upstairs, remembered that Morrigan had seemed to think Snape wasn't so bad. Just like Dumbledore thought that Snape wasn't so bad. After this detention, on top of two hours of Quidditch practice, Harry was beginning to think that they were both mad.

Still worse, Harry thought, he had a Transfiguration essay to finish up before going to bed, and Mark had Potions homework to do. They found an empty table next to Ron and Neville, who were playing Wizard's Chess with one of Fred and George's new sets.

"How bad was it? You look knackered," Ron said sympathetically, looking at Harry and Mark. From the table, one of Neville's pawns uttered an extremely rude comment on being taken by Ron's bishop, and Mark grinned at it.

"Wasn't horrible, for Snape," Harry said after a moment's thought. "Move the racks, chop the ingredients, listen to more of the same old stuff we get in class. You know. Could have been worse. It could have been silver polishing with Filch."

Ron nodded. "That would have been worse, all right."

Neville laughed. "Just think, only last year we would have said that there couldn't be anything worse than detention with Snape."

"That was before Umbridge," Harry said, and snorted with laughter. "But you're right. Even with Umbridge for a comparison, Snape would have been worse last year."

Neville was looking closely at Mark, who was busily turning pages in his Potions book, completely oblivious. "You know, Harry, he looks just like one of the people in your parents' wedding photograph," Neville said. "The young one with the blond hair and the blue Muggle suit. Different eyes, though."

Mark's head came up, and he stared at Neville. "That sounds like my Dad," he said, nodding emphatically. "He has a picture of his sister's wedding where he's wearing a blue suit." Then, as if the idea had only just struck him, he stared at Harry. "That would have been your Mum's wedding then," he said, sounding both amazed and thrilled.

Harry grinned and nodded. "Sounds about right," he said. "I guess your Dad was a bit younger than my Mum then."

"Five years," Mark agreed. "He was actually the son of a close friend of the family. His Dad died when he was a baby, and his Mum died in a car smash when he was about ten. He didn't have any other family, and the Evanses adopted him. He would have gone to an orphanage otherwise, I guess. Your Mum was already at Hogwarts then, and Aunt Petunia," Mark continued, his thin little face drawing up into a grimace, "had almost left school then." He shrugged. "From what Dad says, he and your Mum were pretty close from the start, but he and Petunia never got along worth beans."

Harry snorted. "Sounds like a common story, really." Ron and Neville, going back to their game, grinned.

He looked at Mark. Mark looked at him. They laughed, and got out their books to try and get their work for tomorrow done despite the late hour.

An hour later, homework and chess game done, they all went upstairs to bed. There was no doubt in any of their minds that Mark Evans had become part of their group. What the older boys doubted was whether that could possibly do him anything but harm, things being what they were.