The Legend of Chime

Chapter twenty-two

Elizabeth saw him standing there. She didn't have to look at him directly, his silver-blonde hair gave him away. It reflected the light in the hallway as he leaned against the door. She was glad he was all right. She had been worried. But she didn't wonder why he didn't come into the ward. She already knew. He needed time.

"I can't believe it!"

Elizabeth turned her head suddenly toward Hermione. She was staring open-mouthed at the newspaper in her hands as her eyes darted back and forth across the page. "Of all the irresponsible . . . underhanded . . . unprofessional," Hermione sputtered, her face flushing red with anger.

"Let me guess," Ron said, coming to lean down so he could read over her shoulder. "Elizabeth has been outed."

"No bloody way!" said Harry, sitting up next to Elizabeth.

Ron's face screwed up in disgust as he snatched the paper out of Hermione's hands and threw it in the dustbin, but not before Elizabeth caught the bold headline: A CHIME AMONG US!

Elizabeth swallowed hard and looked down at her hands. "Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later." She glanced up at Hermione who seemed to have recovered from her sputtering, though her face was still red. "So . . . how bad was it?" she asked hesitantly.

A muscle ticked in Hermione's jaw for a few moments. "Rita Skeeter bad," she said finally, leaning on her knees and covering her eyes. Elizabeth had no idea what that meant, but evidently, Harry did. At Hermione's words, he jumped up from the bed and retrieved the newspaper from the dustbin.

"I wouldn't, Harry. A hospital ward isn't a great place to start shouting," said Ron ruefully, glancing at the other patients.

As Harry scanned the newspaper, a small flush crept up the back of his neck. "They printed everything," he said in a low and bitter voice.

"Everything?" said Elizabeth in slight disbelief. "Surely, they didn't KNOW everything."

Hermione nodded her head. "Starting with the story of the fire on the Isle of Man . . . I'm guessing they pinched it from a Muggle newspaper . . . and ending with the events of last Saturday night, with several eyewitness accounts. They also, mentioned that you were dating Harry at school."

"They even have a bloody picture of you," growled Harry, crumpling up the paper in his hands. "I'm going to kill Colin."

"How did they . . . How could they . . ." Elizabeth didn't bother finishing her question. She knew it wouldn't have been difficult to find out the truth, once someone had suspected. There were too many witnesses.

"They wouldn't let me bring any tea down to the ward," Ginny said, strolling up and sitting down on the end of Elizabeth's bed. She looked around at the their flushed faces. "What's happened now?"

Harry threw the crumpled paper at her as he walked over to Elizabeth and sat down. Ginny picked it up and started reading.

"Damn. Well, at least, they didn't mention you were here, at St. Mungo's," Ginny said, reading the rest of the article. "That wouldn't be good. Nutters from all over would flock to the hospital trying to get you to heal whatever ailed them. Some people will do anything to get out of taking their potions and draughts. Remember, Uncle Sebastian, Ron." Ginny looked up at Elizabeth suddenly over the top of the paper. "I didn't know your middle name was Danae."

"Shut it, Ginny." Ron scowled.

". . . don't care! Dumbledore wants them both out of here as soon as possible and I intend to make sure it happens! Damn fools have gone too far this time!"

Elizabeth glanced up at the door to the ward to find a short, rather plump, red-faced woman with strawberry-blonde hair and hand-knitted robes striding toward them with a bundle under her arm. One of the Healers was following close behind, looking quite harassed. There was no sign of Malfoy.

"Mum? What's going on?" asked Ron.

Mrs. Weasley didn't answer as she stopped at the foot of Harry's bed. "You three," she pointed at Hermione, Ginny and Ron then thumbed toward the door, "scoot. Harry and Elizabeth need to change into muggle clothes as quickly as possible." She turned to Elizabeth and smiled at her kindly. "Hello, Elizabeth dear. I'm Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Ginny's Mum," she said, taking Elizabeth's hand and patting it gently. "But I'm afraid there isn't time for a proper introduction. You need to change. You and Harry are leaving now. I've brought you both some clothes." She quickly unwrapped the bundle and laid out a set of clothes on each of their beds, ignoring the protests emitting from the Healer beside her.

"Madame. I will allow Mr. Potter to be released since I will agree, he has sufficiently recovered. But Ms. Fairchild's injury hasn't healed properly yet. We need to run a few more tests to assess what method would be best to use . . ."

Mrs. Weasley turned a menacingly glare at the Healer, her hands on her hips. "She's a Chime, for Merlin's sake! She'll be fine! I'll make sure of it! Have you seen your waiting room of late? There are reporters, photographers, and witches and wizards with all sorts of vile afflictions parading around down there, trying to sneak their way onto this very ward!" she yelled, sticking her nose in the Healer's face. "She cannot stay here. Now, out of my way!" She quickly pulled the hospital partitions closed between Harry and Elizabeth, sufficiently blocking any prying eyes, including each others.

Elizabeth could still hear the Healer and Mrs. Weasley arguing as she slipped off her dressing gown and pajamas and pulled on the pair of jeans and hand-knitted jumper. When she stepped out from behind the partition, Harry was already waiting next to Mrs. Weasley, who had a vague look of triumph about her smile as the Healer stormed out of the ward.

"This way," Mrs. Weasley said to the group, pointing down the hall as they met the others outside the door. "We'll be taking the back exit. Mad-eye, Tonks and Kingsley are waiting. Your father sent a car from the ministry."

Elizabeth and the others hurried to keep up with Mrs. Weasley as she dashed down the hall, away from the main staircase, muttering under her breath something about dodgy newspaper articles being the downfall of society. They rushed down five flights of stairs and stopped at an old rusted door with a flickering sign above it that read Exit.

"Wait, just a moment," Mrs. Weasley said as Ron reached to open the door. She pulled out her wand then tapped it against the door. A second later, the door creaked open. Then Mrs. Weasley quietly peeked through the crack. "Come on, Elizabeth and Harry first. Don't doddle now. Just get into the car," she said quietly, opening the door wider.

Harry grabbed Elizabeth's hand and quickly stepped outside. Elizabeth got a brief impression of a back alley located behind a department store before she was jerked into the back seat of the waiting car then quickly squashed between Harry and Hermione. Elizabeth only had a second to wonder how nine people were going to fit inside the old-fashioned green car, before it magical expanded to accommodated all of them. Tonks slid in next to Harry and Kingsley folded his large frame inside the car next to Ron. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley jumped up front with Moody, who was sitting behind the wheel with a bowler hat perched jauntily on his head to cover his magical eye. As soon as the doors were closed, the car lurched forward, snapping Elizabeth's head back on her neck.

"Bloody vultures," Moody growled as they came around to the front of the store. A crowd of people seemed to waiting for the store to open.

"Is that the front of the hospital?" asked Elizabeth in amazement as she craned her neck to see over Mrs. Weasley's hair.

"Keep your head down, girl!" growled Moody as he turned onto the busy street and Elizabeth immediately sat back in her seat.

"Merlin's beard," said Tonks, "There's even more of them now. No worries. The ministry will be there soon to disperse them, the damn fools."

"Surely, all those people weren't waiting to see me?" said Elizabeth mockingly.

"Told you," said Ginny, looking over her shoulder. "There are lots of nutters out there that have nothing else to do, but dwell on their aches and pains. Though I don't know how they found out you were at St. Mungo's."

"Blasted loons. Dumbledore had the right of it, he did," muttered Mrs. Weasley under her breath. "Said they did the same when his mother was alive. Searched her out to fix even the most mundane of sores, when a simple healing charm or balm would do, just so they could say they had been healed by a Chime." She gave a sound of disgust.

"I wouldn't mind healing the ones who need it," said Elizabeth softly. "Especially the children."

"Tis a Chime's weakness, that is. They'd work you to the ground and think nothing of leaving you there to die, girl," growled Moody, though his tone was much gentler.

"He's right, Elizabeth," said Hermione. "There are a lot of sick people out there that potions and draughts can't help. Once you started, it would be almost impossible to stop. There would always be someone more ill next in line."

Elizabeth shrugged and Harry squeezed her hand. "Remember what Dumbledore said. You're stronger than past Chime . . . but you're not invincible."

Elizabeth gave him a weak smile. "Believe me, I remember." Her hand absently came up to trace the scar on her neck. "Voldemort said the same."

"Don't worry, Elizabeth," piped up Ron. "We'll let you heal us whenever you want. I've been working on becoming an Animagus. And let me tell you, it's a nasty bit of work, that is. You ache all over when you're done."

Elizabeth gave a small laugh and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Ron."

"No, problem."

After twenty minutes, the car pulled to a stop in an old suburb in London and Tonks handed her a piece of paper. "Memorise this," she said. Then she opened the door and slipped out with Harry right behind her, both pulled their wands from their pockets, but kept them pointed down, slightly hidden in their grasps.

Elizabeth glanced at the address on the paper briefly then stepped cautiously out onto the damp street next to Harry and peered curiously up at the run-down houses with broken windows and peeling paint. The smell of rubbish permeated the air, making Elizabeth wrinkle her nose and breath through her mouth to keep from gagging.

Moody took the piece of parchment from her hands and set fire to it with his wand. "The street is clear, now, think about what you read, girl," he said quickly.

Elizabeth gave a quick nod and pictured the parchment in her head and almost immediately a battered, black door with a silver serpent doorknocker emerged out of nowhere. Elizabeth stared in disbelief as the ghostly outline of number twelve, Grimmauld Place quickly became solid right before her eyes and seemed to shove the other two houses out of its way as it did so.

"Let's go!" growled Moody, taking Elizabeth by her arm and hurrying up the worn stone steps. Tonks stepped ahead of them and pulled out her wand as she came to the door. She tapped it once and Elizabeth heard what sounded like several locks slowly clicking open then the door creaked open. "Hurry inside."

Elizabeth stepped through the doorway and entered the house. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the hallway. Then she gazed curiously around at the threadbare carpet, bare walls and peeling wallpaper as she walked further in.

"I don't know if I ever told you, but this was the Black family house," said Harry, coming up to stand next to her as she looked up at the serpent chandelier. "So I guess that means, it's yours now."

"Great," said Elizabeth weakly. She tilted her head at the lighter areas of wallpaper and pointed. "Where are the portraits that were here?" she asked curiously.

Harry gave her a half-smile as other filed inside behind them. "Believe me. It's best that they took them down."

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They were only pretending. He knew they weren't asleep. He had heard their voices right before he had opened the door. Draco briefly gazed around at the many portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts as they continued to drool and snore overly loud in their frames on the wall. He really didn't understand why they bothered. He shook his head and continued into the large circular office. In all his years at Hogwarts, Draco had never been inside this room. There had never been a need. He glanced curiously around at the different glittering gadgets and globes that littered the room as he slowly strode forward. His eyes followed the spiral staircase that lead to the tower above and he was slightly impressed by what he saw. He had heard rumors in the past that the strange headmaster had a love for gazing at the stars and the magnificent golden telescope now gave testimony they were, in fact, true. He continued to stare covetously at the brilliant instrument. He would love a chance to look through it. Astronomy was secretly his favourite subject. Though he would deny it until his last breath.

"Good Evening, Draco."

Draco turned his head to find Professor Dumbledore had suddenly appeared on the tower balcony. Strange . . . he hadn't seen him there when he had first walked in. He slightly inclined his head to the headmaster.

"Please. Have a seat," Dumbledore said pleasantly, indicating the chair in front of his desk as he descended the stairs. Draco settled himself in the high-back chair and was somewhat surprised to find it comfortable. "Where you able to visit Elizabeth as you requested?"

"I saw Elizabeth," Draco said evasively as Dumbledore took his seat behind his desk.

Dumbledore smiled as he surveyed Draco over the rim of his half-moon glasses. "And how does she fair?"

"She has recovered with only a small scar," said Draco. He had the odd the feeling Dumbledore knew this information already.

"Very Good. Chime are very resilient indeed," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. He was quiet for several minutes as he stared down at the book open on his desk. Draco noticed it was an astronomy book and Dumbledore had it open to a page depicting the northern constellations. He glanced up suddenly at Draco with a twinkle in his eye. "I must apologise, an old man's mind does tend to wander. Allow me to explain my sudden rudeness." He indicated the book in front of him. "Do you, by chance, follow the stars?" Draco raised a single eyebrow to this question, but kept his face neutral. "No? Well, I'm not surprised. Not many wizards do. But I have a fondness for the stars, you see. I'm not ashamed to admit that I find them quite fascinating. You might have noticed the rather large telescope I keep in my tower." He paused and Draco gave a slight nod. "Your name reminded me of one of my favourite constellations, Draconis, the dragon. It is made up of thirteen different stars. I will spare you the Astronomy lesson, for I'm sure you have learnt this already in class. But something you might not know about this wonderful group of stars, is that it turns in the sky. During the short nights of the summer months, it lays placid on its back. But when seasons change and winter falls, the dragon stands upright and ready once more. This is what I find so fascinating. The stars reflect a simple truth all dragon keepers know. Light soothes a dragon while darkness provokes him to attack. As mighty as a dragon is, their eyes are their weakest sense . . . what other creatures see clearly, they cannot. They are nearly blind in the dark, so therefore, more vicious," he finished, looking thoughtfully at Draco from under his thick silver brows with that strange twinkle in his eye.

Draco shifted slightly in his chair. He had always been referred to as a dragon so the subtle analogy didn't bother him. It was the hidden truth behind of those words that made him slightly uncomfortable. "I beg your pardon, Professor. But we both know you did not ask me here to discuss the position of the stars," Draco said succinctly.

Dumbledore watched him for a moment longer. "On this, you are quite correct." He laced his fingers and leaned slightly on his desk. "Two nights ago, you sacrificed all you have ever known for something you have rarely seen or understood. A very noble and courageous act, I might add. But the consequences will effect you for the rest of your life. You have gone against your family, your friends . . ."

"They were never my friends," Draco said quietly.

Dumbledore paused briefly, but then continued as if he hadn't heard him, "your beliefs, jeopardising your own safety. What I must ask . . . is why?" he finished gently.

Draco remained quiet for some time. He kept his face void of emotion as he met the headmaster's gaze. Dumbledore was asking him a question that had been plaguing him for weeks. Before, the answer had always been Elizabeth. She had shown him more kindness and consideration than anyone he had ever known in his life. Despite the knowledge that he had degraded her, used her body for his own lust over and over again, she had still selflessly healed him and took away the pain of his past, giving him a clearer view at what he had not seen in years, himself. But now as Dumbledore asked the question again, he finally knew the truth. The answer was not Elizabeth.

"It was my choice," Draco said simply.

"I see . . ." Dumbledore said in a level voice, staring Draco straight in the eye. Draco felt for several minutes as if he could not look away from his intense gaze, then Dumbledore slowly smiled and the twinkle reappeared in his eye. "That is all I need to know."

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She ran her hand down the top of the old mahogany desk, feeling the rough grain of wood beneath her fingertips. This was his desk. She closed her eyes and inhaled the faint musky scent that still lingered in the room after so many months without him. It was the scent of leather, stale drink, and painful memories. She opened her eyes and stared at the faded picture in a tiny silver frame, hidden in the shadows of the desk. She gently picked up the well worn tarnished frame that looked as if it had been held too often through too many sleepless nights. The beautiful face of her mother smiled back at her. He had loved her deeply even in death. She placed the frame back exactly as it had been, cloistered in the small alcove of the desk, protected from the damaging rays of the sun. Her hands found the long shallow drawer below and she slid back the chair so she could open it. Inside were crumpled pieces of parchment of half-formed letters as if he had changed his mind many times, but had neglected to throw away what wasn't needed. She opened up the first one and smoothed out the wrinkles. It was a letter to Harry. Elizabeth smiled as she read it, thinking her father must have loved him very much. The letter was one of caution, telling Harry to "be careful and don't do anything rash" while he was at his aunt and uncle's house. She straightened out several more letters, that closely mirrored the first. Then her fingers brushed up against something solid, wedged tightly in the back of the drawer. She worked for several minutes trying to remove the object without damaging it or the desk. Then, finally it came free. Elizabeth stared down at the delicate wooden jewelry box and brushed it free of dust. Across the top, the initials RDF were intricately carved. Rebecca Danae Fairchild. She undid the tiny golden latch and lifted the lid. A soft tinkling sound of music wafted through the air, eerily beautiful in its simplicity. Elizabeth closed her eyes and listened to the song for a minute. Then she peered inside the box and found several notes from her mother to her father that had yellowed with age. Most seemed to have been written while they were still at Hogwarts and she smiled as she read each one. They clearly liked to tease each other. Then her smile faded as she picked up the last note and read it:

Do not worry. All is well. Will write more soon.

Elizabeth Black will arrive in mid-October to greet her father.

I love you.

R

The small note looked to have been unfolded and read many times, the paper was soft from wear. Elizabeth refolded it and placed it gently on top of the others then slid the box back in the drawer. She had been born four weeks early. No wonder her father had accepted her death so easily. Voldemort had tortured her mother into an early labour. She closed her eyes and covered her ears as the memory of Voldemort's high-pitched laugh suddenly echoed in her head.

" . . . her pregnancy made her slow and vulnerable . . . I used the Cruciatus on her as well . . . she refused to give me the information I sought no matter how many times . . . you will give to me that which I desire without hesitation."

Someone's hand touched her shoulder. In a flash, she had whipped out her wand and jumped from her seat. The chair fell backwards with a loud clatter as she swung around.

Harry held up his hands and spoke in a calming voice. "It's okay, Elizabeth."

Tears, she had refused to give into, came instantly flooding to the surface as she looked into his sad eyes and he gently pulled her into his warm embrace. For several minutes, violent sobs wracked her body as she cried harder than she ever had before. And Harry held her, allowing her pent up anger, frustration, and sorrow to gradually run its course. Slowly, she quieted as she regained control of her emotions and she lifted her head to look down at Harry's shirt.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth sniffed. "It seems I've soaked your shirt."

Harry gave her a soft smile. "Somehow, I think I'll survive." He brought his hand up and pushed her hair out of her face. "Mrs. Weasley asked me to bring you downstairs to eat something. You've been up here for quite some time. We started to worry. I know how things can haunt a person." He lifted her chin a notch and wiped away the evidence of her tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. "Do you need a few more minutes?"

Elizabeth took several shaky breaths as she gazed up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Is that your way of saying that I have a red nose and my face is blotchy?" she asked with a hint of a smile.

"You said it, not me," said Harry with a slight laugh.

Elizabeth pushed him in the shoulder then walked over to the mirror that was attached to the antique chest of drawers and looked at her reflection with a grimace. "That's why I always try so hard not to cry. I usually look as if I've come down with a dreadful cold and an associated rash," she said scowling at the red blotches clearly visible on face. She glanced over her shoulder at Harry. "You wouldn't happen to know where some Pepper up potion is kept, would you?"

"Coming up," said Harry, turning on his heel and walking out the door. A moment later, he walked back in and handed her a small brown bottle. "I've learnt to keep my own stash handy over the years."

Elizabeth tilted the bottle up to the light and peered at the small amount inside. "You're not addicted, are you? I've heard some people really like the feeling of steam coming out of their ears,"she said, feigning a look of concern.

"Damn, you caught me," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm a closet Pepper Up Potion addict. I sneak out to Pepper Up Anonymous meetings three times a week." He pulled out his wand and conjured a spoon then handed it to her. "Join me, won't you? The thrill is worth the risk."

Elizabeth laughed as she swallowed a spoonful of potion and ended up choking slightly and emitting puffs of smoke from her ears and mouth as she coughed. Harry clapped her on the back with a soft chuckle and muttered, "Rookie."

When Elizabeth sufficiently recovered and was satisfied with the results of the potion, she and Harry headed downstairs to the kitchen. As they walked through the house, Elizabeth noticed everything, from the floors to the walls, looked to have been recently scrubbed to a shine, completely free of dust and cobwebs. She hoped Mrs. Weasley hadn't gone to any extra trouble since she was here. She didn't care if the house looked lived in. She preferred it actually. When they entered the kitchen, she was surprised to see the Fairchild Manor house-elves were running around placing platters of every kind of food imaginable on the kitchen table. Mrs. Weasley seemed to be standing over to the side supervising everything with a baffled sort of look.

"They showed up five minutes after we got here," said Harry.

Elizabeth turned her head toward a sudden familiar squeak. "Mistress Fairchild!" Baxter came running across the room and skidded to a halt in front of her, bowing deeply so that his ears touched the floor. "Baxter is very glad to see his Mistress again. Baxter has been so worried," he squealed, tears brimming in his eyes. "Baxter, Prissy, Sweety, Bertie, and Bobble all followed Mistress to her new home. We are good house-elves, we are, Mistress."

"I'll vouch for that!" said Ron brightly, from the kitchen table where he sat brandishing a large half-eaten chicken leg with the evidence of an already consumed Yorkshire pudding left on his cheek.

"Come, come," said Baxter, seizing Elizabeth by the hand and pulling her toward the table. "Baxter has made sure all of Mistress's favourites were prepared. Mistress must eat to regain her strength."

Elizabeth smiled and allowed herself to be squashed into a chair by the overenthusiastic house-elf. Then Baxter proceeded to fill her plate to overflowing. She was glad to see the little elf. He had been the one bright spot in her oppressing stay at Fairchild Manor. Well, one of them anyway. To a point, she had started to enjoy Malfoy's company as well. But things had always been a bit strained between them. Elizabeth mentally shook herself as she accepted the plate from Baxter and pushed all thoughts of Malfoy aside as she started to eat.

"Well, I must say, house-elves are handy little creatures to have about," said Mrs. Weasley, finally abandoning her supervising post and taking a seat at the table. "Though it does leave ones hands idle." She started to pick up the bowl of mashed potatoes, but Prissy rushed forward and proceeded to serve her. "That is quite all right, dear. I can handle dishing out my own potatoes," Mrs. Weasley said, taking the spoon from her. Prissy bobbed her head and curtsied.

Five minutes later, Ginny and Hermione wandered into the kitchen and Hermione's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Where have you two been?" asked Ron, between bites of food.

Hermione's eyes watched the elves as she answered rather distractedly, "In the library. I've been . . . helping Ginny . . . study for her O.W.L.s." She suddenly shook her head. "Why are there a bunch of house-elves in the kitchen?"

Ron shrugged. "Where else would they be?"

"Cool, I've never seen a house-elf up close before," said Ginny, taking a seat at the table and allowing Bertie to serve her. "Well, besides that one house-elf last year."

"They're Elizabeth's house-elves, dear," said Mrs. Weasley at Hermione's continued look of confusion.

Harry leaned closer to Elizabeth. "Uh oh. Here it comes. Brace yourself," he muttered under his breath.

Hermione swung around to Elizabeth with a brilliant smile on her face. "Elizabeth! That's wonderful," she said, beaming.

"It is?" asked Harry and Ron in unison with identical looks of bewilderment.

"Yes, it is," said Hermione brightly, coming to sit down at the table next to Ron. "Now she can set them free."

There was a chorus of high-pitched squeaks as the house-elves all cowered away from Hermione as if she were Voldemort himself. Bobble, who had been about to serve Hermione, dropped the platter of chicken with a loud crash onto the table and hid behind Elizabeth, trembling and peeking fearfully over her shoulder at Hermione.

Elizabeth set her fork down and looked at Hermione with a frown. "You think that I should set them free?" she asked calmly. At Elizabeth's words, Baxter came rushing forward with huge tears in his eyes and grasped her hands, looking clearly terrified.

"Baxter is a good house-elf, Mistress. And so is Bobble, Sweety, Prissy and Bertie," he sobbed loudly as Sweety, Prissy and Bertie also ran to hide behind Elizabeth and bobbed their heads in agreement.

Elizabeth looked down at the elves with compassion in her eyes. "It will be all right. You may see to the rest of the house while we dine. I promise we'll call you if we need you," she said reassuringly and the house-elves' relief was evident as they each vanished with a small pop. Elizabeth glanced back up at Hermione. "I don't believe they want to be free, Hermione."

"Yeah, Hermione," said Ron angrily. "Give it up already. It makes them happy to work so why not let them."

Hermione scowled at both Ron and Elizabeth. "That's because they don't know what it's like, not to have to take orders all the time. Once they're free . . ."

"Hermione, did I tell them to come here?" asked Elizabeth.

"Well, no . . ." said Hermione blankly. "But they have to serve your household, wherever you are. It's part of a house-elf's enslavement. If you freed them, they could go anywhere they wanted . . ."

"And where would they go?" Elizabeth asked.

Hermione lifted her chin. "Like I said, they could go anywhere of their choosing . . ."

"And what if they chose to stay here or at Fairchild Manor? Would that be all right?" Elizabeth persisted.

"If they were free and it was their choice and you paid them a wage and they had a pension, then yes, that would be fair," said Hermione firmly.

Elizabeth considered her words for a moment. "So you see money as freedom and security?"

Ron and Harry exchanged looks. They had never seen Hermione and Elizabeth on two separate sides of an argument before. Ginny seemed somewhat taken back as she sat perfectly still, except for her eyes that kept going from Elizabeth to Hermione as if following a tennis match, her fork full of chicken resting in midair halfway to her mouth. Mrs. Weasley was silently listening.

"Well, to a certain extent . . . yes. To do what you want, unfortunately, most of the time, you need money, Elizabeth," said Hermione crossly.

"But what if you could spend your life doing what makes you happy and not need money to do it, would you?" asked Elizabeth calmly.

That muscle in Hermione's jaw started ticking again. "Of course, but . . ."

"Then we are agreed," said Elizabeth with a smile.

Hermione was quiet for a moment then slowly smiled. "Yes, we are," she said pleasantly then started to fill her plate.

Ron and Harry looked at each other again. Neither really understood what had just happened.

"So . . . the house-elves?" asked Ron hesitantly.

"Are staying because it's their choice to stay," said Hermione. "Pass the potatoes, please."

The rest of dinner was laced with bits of talk about the Daily Prophet article. Mrs. Weasley seemed to think that the ministry allowed the article to be published to distract the public's attention away from the missing story of the attack on the ministry (which had been summed up in a small article on page seven, stating that the attack had actually been a foiled robbery).

As Mrs. Weasley was bringing out the chocolate eclairs that the house-elves had made for dessert, Professor Lupin and a tall, slim man with thinning red hair walked through the kitchen door.

"Good evening, everyone," greeted the tall man as he leaned over and kissed Mrs. Weasley on the cheek. His eyes found Elizabeth a moment later. "You must be Elizabeth Fairchild," he said with a smile. "Very pleased to meet you. I've heard so much about you. I'm Arthur Weasley, Ron and Ginny's father."

"Nice to meet you too, sir. I'm grateful for the car you sent this afternoon," Elizabeth said pleasantly. "It was much appreciated."

"Think nothing of it. It was the least the ministry could do, under the circumstances," said Mr. Weasley, rather uncomfortably.

Elizabeth glanced up at Professor Lupin and gave him a bright smile. "Good to see you again, Professor."

"Glad to have you home, Elizabeth," Lupin said softly.

"You've out done yourself, Molly," said Mr. Weasley as he and Professor Lupin sat down at the table and started filling their plates with all the left over food. "If I had known, I would have invited Tonks and Kingsley over earlier for dinner."

"Mum didn't make it. The house-elves did," said Ginny.

"House-elves?" asked Mr. Weasley blankly.

"From Fairchild Manor," said Ginny quickly. "They followed Elizabeth here."

Mr. Weasley looked at Elizabeth for a moment, then started cutting into his chicken. "Well, that will need to be discussed at tonight's meeting."

"Meeting?" asked Elizabeth.

"The members of the Order of the Phoenix meet periodically to discuss . . . things," said Harry.

"Though for all we know, they could just be playing Exploding Snap. They don't allow us into the meetings," said Ron bitterly.

Elizabeth started to question why, but Lupin answered it before it was voiced. "The Order is comprised only of overage wizards who have left school. There are some things that are best left unknown to you now. Even after everything is said and done, you are still too young to comprehend all the dangers involved."

"Yeah, but not too young to experience them," Harry said in disgust, pushing himself away from the table. He stood and turned then his body suddenly grew tense.

Elizabeth noticed Harry's hand went to his wand in his back pocket. Her eyes shifted to the door and saw the reason.

Draco Malfoy stood quietly in the doorway of the kitchen.