Fame Isn\\\'t Everything

It had been a sleepless night for all concerned, but after determining that Ron would be fine, Charlie had taken himself off to bed in the hope that once he woke, life would make sense again.

He was sadly disappointed.

His first thought upon waking that morning was, 'Harry Potter is sleeping in the bedroom next door,' which was hardly reassuring. Priding himself on being one of the more laid-back of his brothers, Charlie hadn't yet decided his stance on the entire situation where Harry was concerned. But it was undeniable that living for seven years in complete isolation had made Harry a bit...unhinged.

Filled with nervous energy Charlie went to check on Katelyn who was still sleeping soundly, then went downstairs to grab a hurried breakfast. Fortunately no one else was present in the kitchen; he wasn't sure he could handle another confrontation that early in the morning. He wasn't surprised the room was empty; a quick glance to the clock revealed that it was only six o'clock.

He didn't really like Twelve Grimmauld Place and was glad that he hadn't had to spend as much time there as the rest of his family. It was indescribably creepy, and every step he took made Charlie think of all the Blacks who had lived and died there. Their spirits probably haunted the corridors at night. This line of thinking led him to wistful remembrances of his home in Romania and to thoughts of his friends and beloved dragons.

Unable to return to sleep, Charlie decided to use one of the spare fireplaces to speak to Eric. He hadn't received a reply to his owl, though it was a bit soon to worry that the owl had got lost. However, he knew he'd feel better if he spoke face to face with his second-in-command.

A few minutes and a sprinkle of Floo powder later, Charlie's head peered into the Albrights' living room, rather disoriented from the trip. The house was silent, and Charlie was about to leave when a person came down the stairs.

It was Tabitha, yawning and looking as if she hadn't had a moment's sleep. She paused on the second to last step and blinked, as if not quite sure she was really seeing Charlie's head in her fire.

"Charlie?" Tabitha yawned. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

"Well, nothing special," Charlie said, shrugging as best he could in his position. "Is everything all right at the camp?"

"Of course it is," she answered, pulling a chair up to the fireplace. Wrapping a blanket around her, she sank gratefully down into it. "Don't you believe Eric can take care of it? He'll be disappointed in your lack of trust."

Charlie had never seen his normally peppy friend so weary. A wave of fear washed over him when he thought of the reason he and his family had left Romania in the first place.

"And Jeto? What of him? He hasn't been back to the camp, has he?"

Slowly Tabitha shook her head. "Some of the keepers reported an unidentified vet the day after you left, but if it was Jeto, then he's gone again. No more attacks, and before you can ask: the dragons are fine. We had some trouble with Elmer, but that seems to be past."

"Trouble?" Charlie repeated. "What kind of trouble?"

"Oh, he was just being a bit disruptive," Tabitha replied, dismissive. "Nothing we couldn't handle, I assure you."

"So everything's all right?" Charlie persisted. "Because I could probably get away for a couple of days and come back--"

"Charlie, the entire point of you leaving was that you were in danger and that by being here you were putting us in danger. Once we're certain that Jeto's been put away, I'll let you know. Relax. Enjoy your time with your father. "

"Well, I'm not exactly with my father." Charlie shifted and stared at Tabitha's Persian rug. "Things have become...complicated. Did you receive my owl yet?"

Tabitha frowned. "An owl came late last night, but I was rather occupied and haven't opened it. Oh, that reminds me, is Katelyn all right?"

"What?" Charlie panicked and nearly hit his head on the top of the fireplace. "Why wouldn't she be?"

Tabitha stood up and began to pace, apparently listening intently for noise from upstairs. "Now, I don't want to alarm you, but Davy has dragon pox."

"What?" shouted Charlie. Remembering how early it was and not wanting to disturb anyone, he lowered his voice. "Is it serious? You should bring him here. My sister-in-law," that certainly felt odd to say, "is a certified Healer, and St. Mungo's is the best hospital in the country."

Sounding both amused and vexed, Tabitha replied, "Perhaps you've forgotten who it is you're speaking to, Charlie. I'm a Healer, too, and we do have hospitals in Romania. I have the situation completely under control. Should his condition worsen, I'll take him to the local medical centre, but I am capable of taking care of him. I only thought I should warn you since he's been in close contact with Katelyn."

Dragon pox. That was the last thing he needed now. "Thanks, Tabs. I'll ask Hermione to take a look at her, though she hasn't shown any signs."

"Yes, well they often take several days to manifest," Tabitha sniffed, still apparently hurt by his slight. "Now, what was this owl you sent?"

Hurriedly Charlie filled her in on the situation, trusting to her discretion. When he mentioned Harry's sudden appearance, Tabitha frowned.

"Who?"

"What?" Charlie was startled.

"Never mind. So you wanted to ask us to join this Order of the Phoenix. I'm sorry, Charlie, but we really can't leave now, especially with Davy sick. But if we can do anything for you from here, please let us know. And I promise to keep you updated on the camp. Is there anything else?"

Somewhat confused by Tabitha's rather snappish attitude, Charlie considered it. The large question mark currently labelled 'Nymphadora Tonks' still loomed ever present, and while he had Tabitha's attention, he figured he might as well ask her advice.

"Well, you're a woman, right?"

A smile spread across her face as she pulled the blanket tighter around her. "The last time I checked, yes. Why?" Then her mouth formed a small 'o'. "Charlie, have you...have you met someone there?"

Shocked that she had guessed so quickly, Charlie could only stare. "Not exactly. More like, re-met, I suppose. How in the name of Merlin did you know?"

"Because you only ever question my gender when you need romantic advice. Admittedly you haven't needed any since you first met Sophia, but it's always the same." She mimicked his voice. "'Tabs, you're a woman. Say I like this girl, how do I go about, er, you know..." Tabitha laughed. "So who is she?"

Moaning, Charlie muttered something even he couldn't understand.

"Sorry, you'll have to speak up," Tabitha said cheekily, deriving great pleasure from Charlie's humiliation. He was so glad to be able to cheer her up.

"She's my ex-girlfriend."

Tabitha looked absolutely stunned, and rightly so. Charlie never spoke about his life before coming to the dragon reserve to anyone, and had always refused to speak about old flames. He knew that rumours floated through the camp about his private life. Some thought Charlie had never fallen in love until he had met his late wife and that once she passed on, he vowed never to love again. Others wondered if he were homosexual, despite having been married with a child.

The three most curious were Tabitha, Eric, and Ionna because despite their best efforts, Charlie flat out refused to say anything about his life in England.

He had come to Romania when he had been quite young, but made frequent trips back to London, including the memorable three year stay when he had met Tonks. He knew they had always assumed that something momentous had happened during those three years, and they were quite right.

But when he returned to Romania, alone, heart-broken, and war-torn, he had made a decision to live his life as if those three years had never happened, and until he had received the phoenix symbol, he never regretted that decision.

His tongue loosened, Charlie continued. "I met her in England ten years ago. She and I had both recently been inducted into the Order, but I hadn't yet met her as I was living in Romania. That summer, I went to visit my parents only to hear that my friends and youngest two siblings had been injured in a terrible duel, not to mention that my father was still recovering from a poisonous snake bite. So I spent some time in the hospital. She was there. Despite the warnings of my family that inter-Order relationships were dangerous, I fell for her. Hard."

Enthralled and not wanting him to stop, Tabitha leaned closer to the fire and nodded.

"Wanting to do my part and help my family, I stayed in England for a time to aid in the fight against Voldemort. That plan had the added bonus of keeping me near her. Nothing happened immediately," he added after a moment's thought. "We were both far too awkward. I've never been very good around women, as you well know."

Tabitha grinned, and Charlie returned the smile. He knew they were both thinking of his failed attempts to chat her up when they had first met.

"So it took some time, but that was fine, I wasn't going anywhere. Then one day it finally happened. I'm not giving you any details," his ears turned red and it wasn't the fire, "but suffice it to say we were happy."

"What happened?"

Charlie tried to shrug. "After the last battle with Voldemort, we all went our separate ways, unable to face one another. Until now that is."

He felt vaguely uncomfortable lying to one of his best friends, but he reassured himself that it wasn't really lying. It was just leaving out some of the truth. He never wanted to think of the way Tonks had hurt him again.

"And what's the problem?"

Charlie wished he could move around somehow, having to kneel in one place with his head in a fireplace was extremely uncomfortable and not at all conducive to this sort of conversation.

"Tabs, you and Sophia were friends..." He trailed off, unable to think of a suitable ending to that sentence.

Tabitha's face immediately fell. "Charlie, I loved Sophia, and I know you did as well, but you cannot live the rest of your life as if she's looking over your shoulder. It's been three years."

"But," Charlie wanted to tear out his hair in frustration, "I feel so guilty. Some days I forget that she's dead, and I wake up expecting her to be in bed next to me. But everything I felt for Tonks, I still feel. I never forgot. And I want to tell her that. But too much has changed between us. And what would Katelyn think? I would be replacing her mother."

Stifling a smile, Tabitha scolded him. "First of all, you could never replace Sophia, and you would never try. Second, Katelyn's only three years old and has no memory of her mother. If this Tonks is half the woman you obviously think she is, she'll find a way to get Katelyn's approval. What's more important is that you tell her what you think of her."

"My life has changed completely. I'm not who I was. For Merlin's sake, Tabs, I have a child now. I'm in charge of another human life, and her welfare is the most important thing in the world to me. How could that responsibility not have changed me? I'm not the man she remembers. I'm not the man she loved."

Sick to death of this conversation, Charlie shook his head. "I have to go. Good bye. Keep me updated, all right?"

Nodding and yawning at the same time, Tabitha managed a small smile. "Well, if it's any consolation, I think you're an amazing man and any woman would be lucky to have you."

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Charlie relaxed slightly and smiled back.

"Thank you. Love you, Tabs."

"Love you, too, Charlie."

Pulling out of the fireplace in Twelve Grimmauld Place, Charlie placed his head between his knees for a moment trying to rid himself of the dizziness and nausea that always accompanied a fire-place talk. He thought he heard the sound of the door closing, but when he looked up, he saw nothing and assumed he imagined it.

Time to face the day. Charlie expected to be put on owl duty with Remus; they would be expecting responses to the letters Remus and Tonks had sent to potential Order members. Knowing that they could use all the assistance they could muster, Charlie had made a few recommendations. If only they would come in time.

Other than Tonks's close proximity, what bothered Charlie the most was their complete lack of information. Barnes was missing, yes, but other than the fact that Ginny was being set up and Malfoy probably had something to do with it, they knew nothing. If someone didn't come up with something soon, this would be the shortest investigation in history.

~~~

"Thanks for letting me stay the night, Angelina," Neville said at breakfast that morning as he folded up the blanket he had been given and placed his pillow on top of it in a neat stack.

"I couldn't let you get bitten, could I?" Angelina replied sensibly, hunched over her mug of coffee. She certainly looked as though she could use it. There were dark circles under her eyes and far more lines than there used to be. There was even a long scar above her eye. "What were you doing in a place like The Manticourt anyway, Neville?"

He took a seat at her table and summoned a cup of tea from the kitchen. Angelina's flat was rather dark and dingy with moth-eaten furniture and chipped china. Saddened to see his friend reduced to such decay, he kept his eyes downcast.

"I got lost," he admitted sheepishly. "I thought I'd ask for directions."

"The Manticourt is the last place you'd want to do something like that," Angelina said, sipping her hot drink. "So why'd you come to Knockturn Alley? It's not the sort of place I'd expect to find you."

Pouring milk into his tea and stirring it, Neville protested, "I didn't go there on purpose."

Looking confused, Angelina asked, "How do you go somewhere on accident? Mis-timed Apparation?"

"Er, no. I was running."

"Running from what?"

Suddenly very interested in his tea cup, Neville stared down and didn't answer. Angelina didn't press him, but after a moment he couldn't take the pressure of silence and answered.

"The Magical Militia," he said glumly.

"You wouldn't hold up well under torture, you know that, Neville?" Angelina sipped her coffee. "Why were you running from the MM?"

"They were chasing me," Neville replied coolly. Amused, Angelina smiled at him.

"Very well, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. Have some breakfast and I'll send you on your way. Where are you headed?"

"A friend's," Neville replied, unable to decide whether to confide in Angelina. "If you don't mind my asking, what were you doing in Knockturn Alley, armed with a wooden stake, and looking perfectly at ease?"

Angelina paused, but when she spoke she acted as if she had expected the question. Quietly she answered, "We all have our demons, Neville. Sometimes it's nice to go where no one knows your name."

"But a bar in Knockturn Alley?" Neville questioned.

She shrugged. "I can handle myself. They don't like newcomers, but I'm a regular. It's not all vampires and hags, you know. Most of the people in that bar were ordinary witches and wizards, they were just looking for an escape."

Neville didn't like the sound of that, but Angelina seemed to be finished speaking. Biting into a piece of toast, Neville decided to see if she could be any help to the Order.

"Have you heard about Jack Barnes's disappearance?"

"Hasn't everyone?" Angelina looked at him. "Is it true? Did Ginny really kidnap him?"

"That's what we're trying to prove didn't happen." And deciding to gamble it all, Neville told her all that had happened in the past couple of days, leaving out the mention of his own arrest.

"Then I ran into Malfoy of all people in Knockturn Alley," Neville continued, shuddering. "Which reminds me, he gave me a note to give Ginny." Patting his pocket, he was relieved to find that it was still safe.

"You're going to see Ginny?" Angelina sounded suspicious. "So you believe she's innocent?"

"Of course!" Neville was surprised. "It's Ginny Weasley. Surely you don't think she's capable of doing something like that."

Angelina shrugged. "I don't know what to think. I've been out of the loop for quite some time, Neville. But, no, I agree it's quite unlikely that Ginny kidnapped Jack Barnes."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Neville then asked, "We need help, Angelina. I probably shouldn't be doing this, but you were a Gryffindor. Ginny needs your help, she's reforming the Order of the Phoenix, she wants to find Barnes and clear her name."

A brief flicker of emotion had crossed Angelina's face at the mention of the Order, but she shook her head.

"I'm afraid I can't help you, Neville. I received a letter this morning from someone named Nymphadora Tonks asking me to help on Ginny's behalf. I've already sent an owl back informing her I can't oblige."

"But--but, why not?" Neville asked, bewildered. The Order had certainly started recruiting quickly; then again, he presumed they had no time to waste.

Staring into her cup of coffee, it was several seconds before Angelina replied. "It isn't my place. I don't belong with your Order, Neville. I wasn't a member before."

"That doesn't mean anything," insisted Neville. "If Tonks sent you that letter, than I'm sure that means the Order needs you now. You really should come back with me."

"I can't," Angelina said flatly. "Leave the subject alone."

Startled by her sharp tone and the fact that her body seemed to have tensed up, Neville quickly stopped talking, but vowed that he hadn't finished with the subject.

"So, er, what are you doing with yourself these days besides rescuing lost travellers in seedy bars?"

She seemed to relax ever-so-slightly and gave him a small smile. "Not much, I'm afraid. I'm...freelance."

"Freelance what?" Neville asked.

"Freelance...everything. You name it, I've done it."

Neville thought back. "What about Quidditch? I thought I heard you had been signed to the Pride of Portree?"

Flinching, she corrected him. "Montrose Magpies. And yes, I played with them for a time, but you can't play Quidditch all your life. And then...then I was injured, so I had to retire."

"Do you miss it?"

Angelina appeared to give this question a lot of thought. "Yes. And no. I miss a lot of things, Neville, but that doesn't mean, given the opportunity, I would go out and do them. What about you? What have you been doing these past several years?"

Oh, let's see, thought Neville. Studying plant life in the Mediterranean, starting my own greenhouse for exotic magical flowers, plotting to overthrow the Magical Militia...

Aloud he said, "I've been working with magic plants a lot. I even started my own greenhouse and have been trying to breed a new plant that could be used to cure the 'flu."

"That sounds like important work," Angelina replied, visibly impressed. "Have you had much success?"

"Not yet, but I'm optimistic. I have a lot more tests to run, and several batches of seedlings to test out." Neville shrugged. "It's not the most thrilling line of work, but I'd like to think I help people."

"You wouldn't happen to need an assistant, would you?" Angelina asked as she cleared away their dishes.

"I thought you were busy with freelance work?" She was definitely hiding something, but Neville couldn't figure out what it was.

"I'm between jobs at the moment," she replied, though she didn't meet his gaze. "I'm looking for some work. It would only be temporarily."

"But, Angelina, if you aren't doing anything at the moment, why won't you come to help Ginny?"

Angelina stepped back as if she had been slapped. "I thought I asked you to drop that subject. Besides, I told you, I'm looking for work. I don't have the time to spend on a job I'm not going to get paid for."

Desperate, Neville struck upon an idea. "I'll make you a deal. You come help us find Barnes, and I'll hire you as my assistant in my greenhouse. What do you think?"

Looking at him sceptically, Angelina said, "Neville Longbottom, are you blackmailing me?"

"Who me?" Neville tried to look innocent. "Of course not. It's merely an exchange of favours. Is it a deal?"

"I don't know." She hesitated and bit her lip. "What if they don't want me there?"

Neville stared openly. Where had the confident young Gryffindor Quidditch captain gone? Even the woman who had rescued him yesterday by staking a vampire seemed to have vanished. Something was wrong with her, and he was even more determined than ever to find out what it was. The first step would be getting her to return to Grimmauld Place with him. Then he wondered how she and Luna would get on and shook himself. Where on earth had that thought come from?

"Of course they would. I imagine all the old members will be there, and you know most of them, if not all. Fred and George Weasley ought to be there." She didn't smile. "Professor McGonagall, Professor Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, even Hagrid, I'll bet."

And finally Angelina gave in with a sigh. "All right, I suppose I'll go then. Where is it we're travelling to?"

"Hkdighe Eignth Ahng," Neville replied promptly. His brow furrowed in confusion as he just replayed what he had heard in his head. He tried to say it again. This time nothing came out. Angelina stared at him.

"Is something the matter?"

"Oh, I forgot," Neville groaned. "The place is hidden by the Fidelius Charm. I can't tell you where it is. I'm not the Secret Keeper."

"Well, who is?"

Neville groaned again. "Albus Dumbledore."

Looking confused, Angelina said, "So how exactly did this brilliant Order of yours expect to recruit people when the only person who can tell them where to go is dead?"

Pondering this (for he had wondered the same thing), Neville tried to remember anything that would be of any use. Then he recalled that Angelina had mentioned receiving a letter.

"The letter you got, asking you to join the Order, where is it?"

Silently Angelina went to a beat-up and broken-down old desk and picked up a piece of parchment, handing it to Neville, who scanned it quickly.

"Ah," he said, relaxing somewhat. "Stand back."

Holding the page over Angelina's dining room table, Neville took out his wand. "Incendio!"

Instantly the parchment combusted and Neville dropped it onto the table to avoid singeing his fingers. He heard a muffled moan behind him, ("Neville, my table!") but kept his eyes on the parchment which had burnt away to reveal seventeen words written in Albus Dumbledore's narrow handwriting.

"Well," said Angelina finally, once she recovered from that surprise. "I suppose we had better get going."

Neville grinned and Disapparated.

~~~

Entering his bedroom, Ron allowed himself a small sigh and then collapsed on his bed. Then he realised he wasn't the room's only occupant.

"Hermione?" His wife was sitting in a chair by the window, staring out at the filthy street which could barely been seen through the cloud of fog. She was wringing her hands, and jumped slightly at the sound of Ron's voice. There was a box on her lap which she quickly put to the side. "What are you doing up here alone?"

"It's early still," Hermione said tensely. "Isn't a person allowed in her own bedroom?"

"Not without her husband," replied Ron, grinning. But instead of making her smile as intended, she only seemed to stiffen more. "Really, what are you doing here alone? I thought you would be having breakfast with the others."

"And you came looking for me, is that it?"

Ron didn't like the strained tone of her voice, and he definitely didn't like the way she wouldn't look at him. Rubbing his head and yawning, he went to her side and placed his hands on her shoulders. She flinched, and Ron stepped back, startled.

Coming around in front of her, he dropped to his knees and forced her to meet his eyes. "What's troubling you? What are you hiding from?"

Tears were brimming in her eyes, and filled with concern, Ron took her hands in his.

"Harry," Hermione admitted softly.

Somewhat relieved that it wasn't more serious, Ron said, "Look, I know this is difficult. I'm the one who passed out, remember? I thought I had prepared myself, but it was just too much for me. I understand. But we can't hide up here forever. Eventually we're going to have to speak to him face to face."

Instantly Hermione pulled her hands away and stood, moving towards their bed.

"I'm just so afraid," she whispered. "What will he think of us?"

"No one said it would be easy, least of all for the three of us." Ron got to his feet and sat down next to her on the bed without touching her. "Imagine how he's feeling. When he left us, he was so angry. I don't exactly want to speak to him, to be perfectly honest, but I will. He's not going to be the Harry we knew once, Hermione. You know that. But perhaps we can learn to trust one another again. And it's been a long time. If we can just put the past behind us--"

"It isn't the past that concerns me," Hermione said. "It's the present. Ron, what will he think of us?"

It took Ron a moment to understand her meaning.

"You mean, because we're married?" Ron croaked. What was she saying? Did she worry that Harry would be upset because his former best friends had found happiness together? Or was there more to it than that?

She nodded, and when she spoke all the words came out in a rush. "He already thinks we've betrayed him, if he sees that we're together, that we're--"

Ron interrupted her angrily. "That we're what? Happy? Oh, yes, I'd hate for anyone to know that dirty little secret. Are you actually saying that you care about Harry's opinion on our marriage? Why?"

Unable to answer him immediately, Hermione squirmed. "I, I don't know. But, Ron, you remember what drove Harry over the edge right before the battle."

"Of course, seeing my sister with Malfoy," Ron retorted, his face heating up.

"No," Hermione said quietly. "That's not what I mean."

Ron's jaw dropped. "You're not saying that walking in on us...us kissing that day was what made him barmy, are you? That's daft."

"He saw it as betrayal," Hermione continued, her face a little pink. "His two best friends, when he needed them most, didn't need him..."

"We didn't do anything wrong then," Ron said through clenched teeth, "and we're most certainly not doing anything wrong now. If you can't understand that, then I don't know what to think."

They were standing opposite one another now, with Ron towering over her, but Hermione appeared unintimidated. Her head thrown back, she returned his stare, and then poked him several times in the chest.

"'Imagine how he's feeling,'" Hermione mimicked. "What we did back then, it really hurt him. Just imagine how he'd feel if he knew not only were we married, but we had been together all this time."

"What do you want to do?" Ron shouted. "Pretend we aren't married?" He sucked in his breath when he saw her troubled expression. "Hermione...do you, do you have feelings for Harry?"

"What?" Hermione's eyes opened wide in a look of pure astonishment. "No, how could you possibly think that?"

"I don't know what to think," Ron exclaimed. "The woman that I love, and have loved, now tells me that we should pretend we aren't married to please a person who accused us of betrayal and left us without so much as a backward glance."

"I never said that," cried Hermione. She dropped to a whisper and sank down onto the bed with her face in her hands. "I just don't want him to hate me any more."

Beginning to pace, Ron clenched his hands. "I hate this. I hate being stuck in a house full of people I can't really trust, sitting around on my arse doing nothing useful, all the while ghosts of my past keep coming up and spitting in my face."

Hermione tried to place a hand on his arm, but he pulled away from her, unable to bear her sympathy at that moment. He had enough to deal with without having to contemplate Hermione having feelings for Harry.

"You know, I was the one who didn't want to come here, but you forced me. You told me it would be good for me. We were both scared to come back here and face what we had left behind. But we're here now, and like it or not, we have to work with all these people. I'm facing the challenge. You want to hide from it. That isn't like you. So what am I to think? You seemed perfectly composed until Harry showed up last night."

"Ron." He didn't answer. "Ron, listen to me. I love you. I swear I do. Do I have to prove it to you?"

His shoulders sagged slightly, but still he didn't say anything. Hermione continued to plead with him.

"You can't possibly be competing with Harry after all this time. Don't you trust me at all? I love you, I chose you. Harry wasn't even a candidate. Damn it, Ron, look at me!"

Finally he turned, but his expression was so angry that Hermione took a step back.

"I know you love me," he said eventually, his voice even. "And I know that you aren't harbouring feelings for Harry. But I can't understand why you would want to make things worse by lying to him and to yourself. Everyone else knows, it's not as if it would stay a secret very long. You know what I want? I want this to be over so we can go to New York, begin our jobs, and get on with our lives."

"Do you think that we can ever return to our old lives after this?" asked Hermione seriously. Then she clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh no! My job! They're expecting me to begin work in three days!"

"No, I've sent an owl and informed both your office and mine that there was a family emergency and we would be delayed." He paused. "As for being able to return to our lives...I don't know. But I can only hope."

Now Hermione went to him and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sure we will. This can't stretch on forever."

Relaxing, Ron put his arms around her and pulled her close to him. He was going to suggest they go for another walk like they had the day before, when he caught sight of the package Hermione had been handling when he entered.

"What's in the box, Hermione?" he asked curiously. Hermione stiffened.

"It's nothing," she insisted, but he had already picked it up and lifted the lid. Unable to comprehend what he was seeing, he looked back and forth from the box to Hermione several times.

"You...this...a Pensieve...by yourself?"

"Ron, those are my memories of the battle. I thought they might be of some use to the Order. Maybe there will be some clue to Barnes' disappearance that we overlooked."

Ron stared at the silvery substance. "Were you going in here by yourself?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "There's nothing dangerous about it, Ron. It's just a memory. I can't possibly get hurt in there."

"Memories can hurt," Ron said quietly, instantly reminded of the Brain Room in the Department of Mysteries. His voice softened. "I remember that day too, Hermione. You can't face those memories on your own. So I'm coming with you."

"What?" Apparently that wasn't what she was expecting.

"Come on, give me your hand." Smiling tentatively at her, Ron gripped her hand tightly. "Are you ready?"

Hermione nodded, and they bent over the Pensieve. After prodding it with his wand, Ron placed his face in front of the bowl and Hermione did likewise. As the silvery contents of the basin swirled about, the room gave a great lurch, dumping them inside the Pensieve. For several heart-stopping moments everything went black and Ron had the sensation of being attacked by a damp sponge. Then it was over and he and Hermione were standing on a grassy lawn surrounded by trees.

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione softly, and pointed. Ron turned to look and saw through the forest his nineteen year-old self along with a teenaged Harry and Hermione running, shouting, towards a smoking shape in the distance.

Hogwarts was on fire.

~~~

He watched the house burn for a moment, the smoke stinging his eyes and causing them to water slightly. Then he sighed, flicked his wand, and turned to meet the woman coming up the path which had once been lined with roses, but was now just mulch.

"It's been a long time, Pansy," he said calmly, ignoring the inferno behind him.

"Yes, it has, Draco," Pansy replied, coming to a stop in front of him. She brushed some ash from her blonde curls and indicated the house on fire. "Your handiwork, I presume."

"Of course," Draco replied. "Are you ready for the task at hand?"

Pansy smirked. "I've been waiting for this for a long time. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find decent hair care products in Columbia?"

He paused a moment, listening for something, then shook his head. "Who's the brat spying on us, Panse?"

Pansy's smile froze in place, but she gave in with good humour. "You're far too observant, Draco. Xander, come out here."

The scrawny teenager slid out from behind a tree, scowling. He came to Pansy's side and fixed his hateful glare on Draco who looked back unperturbed.

"Draco, this is my nephew Alexander Thurston. Xander, this is Draco Malfoy."

The boy's expression changed to one of awe. His eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open. "You're Draco Malfoy? Wow."

Draco frowned, unimpressed with Xander's amazement. "Thurston, hm? Well, at least you're pureblood, though your father is a great disappointment."

"What?" Xander said, his eyes narrowing. "My father is a Death Eater, just like you and Aunt Pansy!"

"Your father and Aunt Pansy," Draco said, his lip curling, "are as close to the Dark Lord's inner circle as a houseplant."

Furious, Xander started towards Draco, but Pansy reached out and grabbed the back of his robes.

"Stop it," she instructed, glaring at Draco. "This is neither the time nor the place. We have work to do."

"Of course," Draco conceded. "It's time to go meet the family."

"Your family?"

Draco and Pansy ignored him, turning away from the house and walking with Xander running to keep up behind him.

He said plaintively, "But what is it that we're going to do?"

Draco came to an abrupt stop causing the boy to run into him, but he didn't turn. "We're going to do what we should have done seven years ago."

"Which is?" prodded Xander.

"We're going to kill Harry Potter."

~~~

The words played over and over in her head. Wishing she could convince herself she had only imagined it, Tonks knew that she was in trouble. She shouldn't have been eavesdropping in the first place, and she hadn't been, not intentionally. But when she came to the door intending to ask Charlie if he had heard from any of his friends, she couldn't help but hear his conversation, and not wanting to disturb him, she hung back.

Now she wished she had just left immediately. Who was this Tabs woman? More competition?

Tonks scolded herself for thinking like that, but she couldn't help it, and hated herself for it. She was going to have to get out of the house or go mad. Spending that much time with Charlie without being able to confess her feelings was going to make her insane.

An entire hour had passed, to her great surprise, while she mulled over this new development, and people were beginning to stir in the house. Realising that her eyes were red from crying, she decided to retreat in case anyone took it into their heads to ask what was wrong.

Too bloody many things.

She didn't know why she went to see Katelyn. The only thing she could think about when she thought of that little girl was Charlie's wife. That child was the product of love between Charlie and another woman. It hurt too much to contemplate.

But she entered the room that had been given over to Katelyn and Charlie's sister-in-law. Intending to do what, she really didn't know, but she opened the door anyway.

Ionna was sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing the three-year old's red curls. She looked up, startled, when Tonks entered.

Immediately Tonks stubbed her foot on the dresser.

"Ouch," she said ruefully. Katelyn's eyes had widened at this intrusion, but neither she nor Ionna said anything. "Good morning. Have you two had breakfast?"

"Yes, thank you," Ionna said softly. "Everyone has been very kind to us." She looked at Tonks in confusion. "I beg your pardon, but wasn't your hair brown yesterday?"

Tonks laughed, somewhat falsely, fingering her short black hair. "Oh, Charlie must not have told you. I'm a Metamorphmagus; I can change my appearance at will."

She bent down before Katelyn who shied away. There was only one way Tonks knew for sure for making friends with children.

"What do you think, Katelyn?" she asked. "Purple? Green? Long and blond?"

With each question her hair changed much to the amusement and amazement of the toddler who began to giggle as Tonks did her nose-changing routine. Ionna was clearly startled.

"That is some trick," she said. "No, Charlie said nothing. He does not speak of his time before he met Sofiya. Of his life here. It causes him pain, I believe. I have tried to get him to tell me, but there are some subjects which he refuses to discuss."

Katelyn, losing interest quickly, scurried off to play with her dolls, but Tonks looked up at Ionna, her heart beating faster.

"If you don't mind my asking," said Tonks, taking a deep breath, "what was your sister like?"

She couldn't bring herself to say "Charlie's wife."

Ionna looked at Katelyn as she spoke. "Sofiya was a small woman, but tough. She was loving, but had a sharp tongue about her. And yet she was not a dominating type of woman. Sofiya knew her place in the home, and she clearly adored Charlie. As he did her. Katelyn looks like her father, but she has her mother's nose and chin."

Tonks's face fell. Charlie had married a woman completely unlike her. He must have hated her so much by then that he fell in love with someone who did not resemble her in any fashion.

"I know you," chirped Katelyn suddenly. Both Ionna and Tonks turned towards her, startled. "Can you make your hair short and pink?"

Bewildered, Tonks did as requested. Katelyn stared at her for several seconds before nodding, apparently satisfied.

"I know you now! My daddy has a picture of you at home."

"He...he what?" Tonks asked, astonished. Ionna peered at her again and slowly nodded, her eyes growing wide.

"That is right. You are the woman from his picture. We always thought it was a picture of his sister."

"We?" Tonks repeated hoarsely. Charlie kept a picture of me after all this time. Merlin. What does this mean?

"Myself and his two best friends, Eric and Tabitha Albright."

Tabitha. "Tabitha wouldn't happen to go by the nickname 'Tabs,' would she?"

Surprised, Ionna replied, "Why, yes. That is what Charlie and the other dragon keepers call her."

Tonks burst into genuine laughter. How foolish she had been! Suddenly feeling better than she had in days, Tonks couldn't keep herself from grinning. Ionna clearly thought she had lost her mind.

"Miss Tonks, if you do not mind, would you tell me something of Charlie before he came to Romania? He never speaks of it."

"Well, if Charlie won't talk about it, it's probably not my place," said Tonks, vaguely uncomfortable.

"Please. At least tell me what passed between you."

Tonks looked at Ionna in disbelief. "What?"

"Miss Tonks, I am not stupid and neither was my sister," Ionna said gently. "We knew that there had been other women before her. And I can see it in Charlie's eyes when he looks at you that you were in love. I would like to know what happened."

She didn't know what to say. Tonks hadn't spoken about what had happened between herself and Charlie to anyone, and now this woman, this complete stranger who had been related to Charlie's late wife, was asking for the whole story.

Well, why not? After all, she wouldn't judge, and Tonks suddenly realised she wanted to tell someone the story. She needed to talk about it, to get it into the open, and maybe then she could survive working with Charlie.

"All right," said Tonks slowly. But she glanced nervously at Katelyn. "Could we perhaps talk without her here?"

Looking up indignantly, Katelyn said, "Why can't I be here?"

"Because this is a subject you are not ready for, Lynsha," Ionna said gently. "Why do you not go into the other room and put on your travelling clothes, and we will go to meet your grandfather today."

Her face brightening at this prospect, Katelyn went into the next room, closing the door firmly behind her. Ionna turned to Tonks expectantly.

"Miss Tonks?"

Getting off her knees, Tonks pulled up a chair opposite Ionna and sighed deeply. "Call me Tonks, please. All right, now are you certain you want to hear this?"

Ionna nodded, though she looked a little uncertain, and for good reason Tonks thought. She didn't understand Ionna's reasons, but it also wasn't her right to question them.

"Very well. I was twenty-three when I met Charlie while I was recovering from a duel in St. Mungo's hospital. At first we just developed a friendship, and he would keep me entertained with stories of dragons and his life in Romania. I loved it when he'd come to Twelve Grimmauld Place, because he was the only one who made me laugh. My cousin who had owned this house died that spring," Tonks added, her head bowed. "Charlie was one of the few people who could make me forget, or was there for me when I remembered. You know, before then I never realised how much I cared."

She took a deep breath. "One day the following year I realised that my feelings for him stretched beyond friendship. I had no idea how to deal with that. I became even more awkward when I was around him, dropping plates, knocking over furniture, but I did my best to pretend I felt nothing at all. Slowly I got the impression that perhaps he felt something for me as well. There was nothing concrete to base that assumption on, just a wink here, or the way his arm would brush against mine in passing, or how he always seemed to sit himself next to me whenever Molly invited me for dinner."

Tears started to well in her eyes, and there was a slight catch in her voice. Ionna looked at her with concern, but Tonks avoided her gaze. If she did, it would break the spell, and Tonks had to finish. She had said too much to stop now.

"Barely a week before the final conflict with Voldemort, all of those frustrated feelings exploded. Maybe it was the tense atmosphere, or a sort of feeling of carpe diem, I don't know, but I allowed myself to show Charlie how I felt, and he responded with equal passion. But I got scared. Terrified. I didn't want to love Charlie, only to lose him in the battle. I didn't think I could bear that kind of heartache. So I pulled away."

Wiping her eyes, Tonks finally looked up from her clasped hands only to see Ionna staring at her with sympathy. She couldn't believe she had just confessed all of that to Charlie's sister-in-law. Obviously she had lost her mind.

"I am sorry," Ionna said after an awkward pause. "I had no right to pry into something so private. I was just curious, I suppose, but that does not excuse me."

"No, you don't need to apologise. I...I needed to say it, and I needed a sympathetic listener, thank you." Suddenly Tonks was apprehensive. "I hope I didn't hurt you in any way."

"Speaking of yourself and Charlie?" Ionna smiled the gentle smile Tonks was coming to appreciate. "I asked you to. And that was before he married my sister. I do not mind. Now it is my turn to tell you something."

Despite her initial reluctance at speaking to this woman, Tonks now found herself leaning forward. "Yes?"

"Charlie has been very lonely these past three years. I can see it in his eyes. So what I suppose I am saying is that if you love him still, do not be afraid of acting upon those feelings just because of me or Katelyn."

"I-I don't think I could." And while Tonks had no intention of mentioning her feelings to Charlie until she could be certain that he felt the same, she was somehow relieved that Ionna wouldn't hate her for feeling as she did. "But thank you. I had better get going, I have a lot to do today."

"Very well." She shook Tonks's hand as the latter got up to leave. "We should talk again soon."

"I'd like that," Tonks replied, finding that it was true. "Good-bye."

Leaving the room, Tonks hurried down the stairs and out of the front door, careful to remain silent so as not to disturb the entire house. After long practice she had finally stopped knocking down the umbrella stand, and now she bypassed it with ease.

But she had only taken a few steps down the pavement when she collided with not one but two owls, and fell to the ground in a whirlwind of feathers. The owls shook themselves off, deposited two letters on her chest, then took off again.

To her great surprise both letters were addressed to her, one in a deep emerald green, and the other in a scathing scarlet. Still sitting out in front of twelve Grimmauld Place, Tonks slit one open and scanned it, her eyes narrowing with each word.

'Dear Nymphadora Tonks,' began the first letter addressed in red, 'I do hope you're enjoying your holiday as much as I am. The weather is lovely, and since Barnes's disappearance there is scarcely a Mudblood about, for fear of being harassed by the Magical Militia, I suppose.

'That is enough of banalities. I'm writing to express my great displeasure at your choice to follow me rather than remain safely back in Australia. Was my message not clear enough? Very well, I shall repeat it: Go home. Your presence in England threatens to interfere with my plans, and should I encounter you at any point, I will not waste the opportunity.

'To further discourage you, this letter is in no way traceable, and I'd like to point out that you have no hope of finding me. I, however, have many ways of finding you, should the need arise.

'Sincerely, Wilma Gorgon.'

Tonks stared off into space for a moment before ripping the letter into confetti. Then she grabbed the second letter and tore it open.

It only contained one simple sentence and a very familiar family crest.

Blanching, Tonks looked at the parchment again, half-hoping something else would appear, revealing that this was just some sort of practical joke. He couldn't be serious. But it appeared he was, and Tonks had no idea what to think or do about it. Had he forgotten that she was the daughter of a Muggleborn wizard? They hadn't spoken...well, ever. And yet now he was asking her to meet with him.

Draco Malfoy was invoking blood rights.

~~~

Emily began to tap her foot nervously. What if he wouldn't come? What would she do then? Cursing herself for such weak-minded thinking, Emily resolved that if he wouldn't show, she would take matters into her own hands. She allowed herself a small smile. No one would want that.

"Miss Hopkirk. This is a pleasure."

Leaping out of her seat at one of the Leaky Cauldron's tables, nearly upsetting her red currant rum, Emily turned to find Professor Snape standing behind her with an expression of wry amusement. She held out her hand which he took with a twist of his lips, then bade her to be seated.

"I admit your letter intrigued me, Miss Hopkirk," Snape began. "I find it interesting that you can intimate so much and yet say nothing at all at the same time."

"It's a skill I have been practising," Emily replied demurely. "I am now a bureaucrat."

"Of course, you work for the Ministry. Such a shame to see real talent go to waste. You were one of the most gifted students I have ever had."

Emily flushed slightly, but maintained her business-like attitude. "You flatter me, Professor."

"Enjoy it, I don't do it often," Snape replied.

"That's for certain," Emily said, a bemused smile crossing her lips. "You never commended me when I was your student. It was always, 'Miss Hopkirk, what are the twelve uses of dragon's blood?' 'Miss Hopkirk, what are the restorative properties of dried billywig stings?' 'Miss Hopkirk, if a tree falls in a forest and there is no one around to hear it, does it make a sound?' You were relentless. Drove me to tears many times."

"I had to be," said Snape, amused that she could so easily recollect the questions he had posed to her. "I wanted you to realise your potential. And look where it has got you."

At the mention of her position within the Ministry, Emily's expression soured. "I didn't get this job because of my mind. I didn't even want it! I got it because I'm beautiful and everyone thinks I'm sleeping with the Minister."

"Doubtless you would not stoop so low. Now, why did you ask me to meet with you? This is not the best time for a reunion."

Leaning forward, eyes shining, Emily began to outline her reasons for writing to him. "The Ministry is in shambles, I have never seen a more disorganised group of men and women! They act as if their world is falling to pieces because one man has gone missing!"

"Not just any man. Jack Barnes." Snape did not seem unduly impressed either.

"That is just plain ridiculous! He is still only one man, and the entire Ministry doesn't have to crumble because a man who ran just one branch isn't there to coddle them all!"

"And what does this have to do with me?" asked Snape, who had not ordered a beverage and looked as though he would leave his seat at any moment if her narrative began to bore him.

"The Minster is a bastard," she said flatly, gripping her drink so tightly that her hands began to tremble. Graham Pritchard's face floated in the back of her mind, saying the exact same thing. "A ransom note for Barnes and a letter in Barnes' own handwriting came to his office, and he won't do a thing about it. Kept blathering on about how the content didn't make any sense. The plain truth is that we have to get Barnes back and restore some order to the office, and I intend to see that done."

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. "Aspirations for the Minister's seat, Miss Hopkirk?"

She smirked. "Ambition is my favourite trait. If I'm going to work for the bloody Ministry, I might as well be at the top. Let us say I haven't ruled out the possibility."

"Providing you can get the world to see beyond blonde hair and blue eyes."

Emily's eyes turned cold. "Exactly."

"And I'm hoping that at some point you will come to my involvement in this matter."

"That's what I'm going to do." Emily met his eyes. "I know that you have custody of Ginny Weasley until her trial. I need to see her. I have a copy of the letter that Jack Barnes wrote, it's the only chance of finding him. I'm offering it to her if she'll assist me in finding Barnes. Undoubtedly she'll want to clear her name."

Snape appeared momentarily interested. "Then you don't believe she's guilty?"

"No," answered Emily derisively. "Weasley may be a lot of things, but she lacks the sophistication for something like this. I think she's being set up. Do we have an agreement?"

"I still fail to see what you want from me, Miss Hopkirk."

"Take me to see Ginny Weasley, and I'll show her the letter. Then we'll figure out where Jack Barnes is."

"Two women, on your own?"

"Don't be absurd." Emily smiled. "You're making assumptions as well, Professor. I am not simple. I know that Weasley's reforming the Order of the Phoenix."

"For a supposed secret organisation, far too many people know of it," Snape muttered. "Very well, you are correct. I will find some way of arranging a meeting between you and Weasley."

But Emily shook her head. "I'm afraid for my plan to work, I'll need to see all of them."

"Fine," growled Snape, a trifle put out. "I'm afraid I can't bring you to their headquarters--"

"Why not?" Emily interrupted.

"Because it is guarded by the Fidelius Charm and only the members of the Order know where it is," Snape replied nastily. "Were you this annoying in school?"

Laughing, Emily said, "Of course, don't you remember? You informed me that were I not in Slytherin, I would have been just like Hermione Granger. Horrified, I was silent the rest of the year."

"Pity it didn't last longer." Snape sighed. "Very well, stay here and I'll be back in a moment with instructions on how to find the headquarters."

"I'll be waiting." Snape stood and nodded in her direction, then with a muttered curse, Disapparated.

Emily continued to enjoy her rum as she waited for Snape to return, and spent the time perfecting her plan. It ought to go smoothly, but it would also depend on what she had to work with.

Snape came back sooner than she had expected, startling her so that she dumped what was left of her drink on her lap. With a scowl in his direction, Emily waited for her instructions as she waved her wand to clean up the spill.

"They were rather reluctant about this, but here you are."

He handed her a piece of parchment, which Emily stared at blankly. "What on earth am I supposed to do with this?"

"Read it," snapped Snape, "unless literacy is far beyond your abilities. Memorise it quickly, and then Apparate to that location."

"Right after I pick up my night-vision goggles and invisibility cloak," Emily quipped.

Snape was not amused, and so she opened the parchment, quickly memorising the address that was written down. Once she had it, Snape snatched it away and burned it. Amused by all the secrecy, Emily Disapparated.

At first she assumed she had done it improperly, as she couldn't fathom any secret organisation having its headquarters in such an old run-down house, but a moment later Snape appeared at her side. Emily surveyed the house with distaste; she appeared to be in the living room which was filled with hideously ugly couches and several wing-backed green leather chairs. There was even a special grating for the fireplace; tarnished silver twisted in the shape of serpent. Above it was the mantle, empty of picture frames or decorations, coated in a thick layer of dust.

"Welcome," said Snape sourly, "to twelve Grimmauld Place. They're waiting in the kitchen."

As Emily followed Snape through the ruined house, she somehow had the sensation that she had been there before. But she was far too nervous about the upcoming meeting to dwell on it.

This was it.

~~~

Luna had been rather relieved when she and Moody made it back to Grimmauld Place in the ungodly hours of early morning. She would have offered to put Moody up for the night, but the ex-Auror was insistent that they return. Unfortunately, she had forgotten that the headquarters was hidden and had been forced to leave Friedman behind. That would be something to bring up with the other members.

She hadn't been unduly surprised when Neville had finally appeared with Angelina Johnson in tow several hours after her own arrival, though she was privately relieved. Worrying about Neville had been at the back of her mind since they had separated. He couldn't be trusted to look after himself.

Now she was sitting in the kitchen starting unabashedly at Harry Potter. He was just as she had remembered him, and he was still endlessly fascinating. He sat detached from everyone else as if afraid that they might hurt him if he got too close. All except Ginny who sat between him and her brothers as a barricade. Fred and George were unusually subdued and their eyes kept darting toward Harry and then away whenever he would catch them looking. Bill was a trifle more subtle.

Jacqueline and Thomas Barge had just arrived and kept looking at Harry with expressions of thinly veiled distrust. Charlie and Tonks were sitting as far away from one another as was possible, though Tonks was looking at him in a distracted way as if she were thinking of something else. Luna stared across the table at Hagrid until he noticed her and gave her a half-hearted wave. Shrugging, Luna turned her attention to Elphias who was deep in conversation with Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt. None noticed her blunt stares and so she turned to look at Minerva as she spoke insistently to Angelina who could only nod bewilderedly. Luna caught Neville's eye and winked. He appeared too petrified by this gathering to make any sort of reply. Moody, thinking the wink was for his benefit, winked in return.

Snape had gone, and there were still two Order members missing--not to mention those who had been recently recruited. Idly wondering why this meeting had been called, Luna noticed that there were others missing and voiced her concern.

"Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Probably out for a walk," Ginny replied. "I knocked on the door of their room, but no one responded." Her voice held the suggestion that they might just be doing something else, and her eyes sparkled mischievously. For the first time since arriving, Luna felt as if she were seeing the Ginny she had known. "They'll know where to find us when they return."

Seeing Harry frown and his lips tighten, Luna assumed he hadn't known about his former best friends. She stored that information away for further use.

"Well, what are we waiting for then?" asked Jacqueline, a very short, heavy-set woman with plain brown hair. Her husband, who was, by contrast, tall, dark, and apparently mute, nodded.

"The person who called this meeting," Ginny replied, clenching her hands slightly. Most of the room turned to look at Harry, who looked almost terrified by the sudden attention. "No, not Harry. A young woman by the name of Emily Hopkirk contacted Professor Snape and informed him that she has information as to the whereabouts of Barnes."

Everyone looked instantly on their guard, as if expecting a Death Eater attack, Luna noted with amusement.

"Here she is," said the voice of Snape as he entered the kitchen, followed shortly by, Luna assumed, Emily Hopkirk. She was barely more than a girl, obviously fresh out of Hogwarts, with an absolutely gorgeous face, beautiful long blonde hair, and a svelte figure. She looked frightened.

"Welcome," Luna said, trying to put the girl at ease. Emily jumped at being addressed and stared at Luna for several moments as if she hadn't seen anything like her. Used to being stared at in this fashion, Luna was unperturbed.

"Thank you," Emily replied after a quick glance at Snape. "I...I'm sure you're all wondering why I've asked to see you."

"No, we're all waiting here because we had nothing better to do," Jacqueline said sardonically.

Emily flushed. "Let me start at the beginning."

"Best place to start," muttered Fred. Apparently even Emily's good looks didn't put him at ease.

Luna watched as the girl (she couldn't be more than nineteen) composed herself and began her narrative.

"My name is Emily Hopkirk," she began, immediately interrupted by Moody.

"Mafalda's daughter?"

"Yes," replied Emily, who appeared to freeze up at the mention of her mother, Luna noticed.

"So old Gerald Hopkirk was your father?"

"That is correct," Emily said, her tone now icy.

"A good man, your father," Moody said, apparently not noticing her cold demeanour. "A good Auror."

"Thank you. As I was saying, I work for the Ministry of Magic, as assistant to Minister Weasley." Everyone froze at her words, and this time Emily interrupted herself, addressing Ginny and looking rather startled.

"He said there was no relation," she said dazedly, looking at Ginny who stared back coolly. "But you do know him, don't you. All of you."

"He was my brother," Ginny replied in a calm voice, though her entire body tensed slightly. Luna was curious to see where this would lead. "A connection we no longer acknowledge. Please come to the point."

"Sorry," Emily apologised, returning to her story. "Shortly after Barnes disappeared, a ransom note was delivered by owl to the Minister's office. Enclosed along with the ransom demand was a note in Barnes's own handwriting claiming that he was alive. But the Minister hasn't done anything about this other than confirm the handwriting as Jack's!"

"How does he know that for certain?" asked Harry, speaking for the first time. Emily stared at him as if trying to remember him from some place.

Luna turned her attention to Harry as did the rest of the room.

"It's been tested in every way possible," Emily replied matter-of-factly. "Magical and Muggle."

"But there are quills on the market that can imitate a person's handwriting," Harry insisted.

"Believe me, Mr...what is your name?"

"Potter," Harry said without appearing surprised that she didn't already know. Luna stared at Emily wondering how it was that so many people forgot Harry.

"Mr Potter. The parchment has been tested, it was written by Jack Barnes. Trust me."

Harry sat back with a shrug. Luna saw Ginny whisper something to him, and the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. Emily resumed.

"The Ministry is a catastrophe. Everyone is running about and nothing is getting done. Soon we will have escaped convicts roaming the streets. Ambassadors from other countries are flooding our offices demanding to know what has happened to Barnes. And still the Minister does nothing. But the Militia is the worst. Without Jack to control them they're hunting down Muggleborns, as if they were responsible for his disappearance."

"As a Slytherin and a pureblood, I'm wondering why you care," Harry commented idly.

"How did you know what house I was in?" Emily asked, for a moment completely nonplussed.

"Only a Slytherin would write to Snape for help." Luna could have sworn Harry smirked.

"Just because I'm a pureblood," Emily said haughtily, "doesn't mean I approve of hunting down innocent people. Besides, the Militia is downright scary, and needs to be controlled."

She looked around the room triumphantly. "So I am offering you the chance to control it."

"How?" asked Ginny, curiously. Everyone else perked up slightly at this as well.

"I have a copy of the letter Jack sent, and I am offering it to you, to clear your name. All I want in exchange is the chance to help."

Even to Luna that sounded suspicious. The other members of the Order didn't seem to trust her proposition either.

"Just a letter?" Ginny repeated. "What makes you think that it'd be any use to us? If the Ministry hasn't come up with a solution--"

"The Ministry isn't trying," Emily said firmly. "I know that some of the finest minds in the country belong to your Order. If you can't figure out anything from it, then no one can."

Harry spoke up again, his voice flat and emotionless. "That's very kind, Miss Hopkirk, but if that's all you have for us--"

"Of course that isn't it, though it is a very important part. Didn't you hear what I was telling you? The Ministry is falling apart without Jack Barnes. So we need Jack Barnes."

"Which is what we are attempting to do," Harry replied. "It isn't an instantaneous process."

"On the contrary," retorted Emily. "I know a way that you can get Jack Barnes back in his position within two days."

Everyone fell silent at these words. Some looked at Emily as if she were insane, and others looked deadly curious. Luna was thoughtful.

"Impossible," grunted Moody. "We don't know where to start looking."

"Not impossible," Emily corrected. "We will be working on the letter here, trying to find out where he is, but perhaps I should make my meaning more clear. We need a Jack Barnes."

She was met with blank looks. Except for Luna who had the suspicion she knew where this was headed.

Emily explained. "In the Department of Mysteries there is a room which is filled with samples of important people. Past Ministers, celebrities, Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts...you get the idea. Often these are used to create Polyjuice potions which are then given to impersonators." Seeing the shocked expressions she was receiving, she elaborated. "There are a lot of minor events to which people are supposed to attend, but don't have the time, so they send a person under the disguise of Polyjuice in their place."

Moody had turned red and was spluttering. "How in the name of Merlin did you find out about that!"

"My father was an Auror," Emily answered. "And I'm the assistant to the Minister. You learn things."

Looking as though he were being strangled, Harry managed to choke out: "Are there samples of me in there?"

It was Kingsley who answered. "Yes, Harry. At least, there were a decade ago. Whether they are still there or not is another question."

Luna thought Harry might be sick. "So there could be people wandering around wearing my face?"

"Excuse me," Emily interrupted, "but I'd like to return to my point. What I propose is that we send one of you into the Ministry disguised as Jack Barnes. That way we can continue our investigations without constant scrutiny. And until we find the real Jack Barnes, life will return to somewhat normal."

"And who do you propose is going to do that?" asked Remus. "It's beyond dangerous, it's suicidal. Jack Barnes was a very secretive man, hardly anything is really known about him. Our man wouldn't last five minutes."

"Obviously he will still be recovering from his recent trauma," Emily said, rolling her eyes. "And he will only communicate with a select group of people. This amazing return will have to happen after you go to trial, Miss Weasley. Otherwise 'Jack' will be pulled in for questioning, and tested for enchantments which will ruin the entire charade."

"But who is going to do it?" asked Charlie.

Everyone turned to look at Harry, who stared at the table. Emily, however, was not looking at him.

"The most logical choice is someone expendable. Don't look at me like that," she added when they all frowned at her. "I only meant someone who wouldn't be needed here or out and about looking for clues. And it would be best if it were someone who looks somewhat like Jack already, so that in the event that the potion wears off before he can drink more, he might still be able to pass for Jack, ill and in poor lighting. Someone like him."

She pointed and everyone gasped. It was, Luna felt, an appropriately dramatic moment.

"Me?" squeaked Neville. He had been rather silent up until now, stunned, Luna supposed, by the sheer weight of all he was hearing. "But I don't look like Jack Barnes!"

"You know, Neville," Harry said, addressing Neville for the first time since they had been in a room together, "she sort of has a point. You do look like Jack Barnes, in a washed out, frightened sort of way."

"You're all barmy," Neville said, leaping from his seat. "I couldn't possibly do all that. It's like Professor Lupin said, I'd be caught in the first five minutes!"

"Not if we sent an assistant with you," Ginny mused. "Someone you could relay messages through, claiming you're still emotionally fragile from your experience."

"You're getting the hang of this," Emily said admiringly.

"Practice makes perfect," Ginny murmured. "Now, whom can we send as your assistant?"

Everyone was quiet for a moment, considering it. Luna was surprised it took them as long as it did.

"Me," she said to the room. "I'm the obvious choice, aren't I? Merlin knows I can handle my self, and I'm the only one in this room who is temporarily expendable and isn't well known to the Ministry. I volunteer."

She shot Neville what she intended to be a reassuring smile, but he only appeared more terrified.

"That's settled then," said Harry, who looked as if the situation had spun violently out of control and beyond his reach. "Miss Hopkirk, I assume you have a plan for getting to the 'samples'?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't," she replied coolly.

"Fine. Everyone, have something to eat and meet back here. I'll give you your assignments, and we can get this under way."

Everyone began to disperse when an owl flew into the kitchen, depositing its letter on Ginny's lap. Everyone flinched at the sight of it, except for Harry who didn't understand why they'd be afraid of an ordinary letter and Luna who didn't flinch at anything.

"Bloody hell," moaned George. "It's from the Wizengamot. Dad must have forwarded it. It must be about the trial."

Opening it with shaking hands, Ginny managed a weak smile. "It's tomorrow. They must want to get it done with as soon as possible."

"But that's unheard of!" Emily cried. "They have to give you at least two weeks notice!"

"I was in holding cell, Miss Hopkirk," Ginny said coldly, "I think I knew this was coming."

"But, that's hardly enough time to prepare!"

"It's enough." Harry stared, his piercing green eyes boring into her. "Welcome to the real world, Miss Hopkirk. Nothing ever goes as planned."

And with that furious statement he left the kitchen and stalked upstairs. Still trembling slightly, Ginny appealed to Remus, Minerva, and Moody.

"Will you help me prepare for the trial?"

"Of course," Remus answered. "We'll begin after we all have something to eat."

"I'd like a corned beef sandwich," Moody decided, standing from the table. "Let's send young Tonks out for a take-away."

"Why is it always me?" asked Tonks, also rising. Everyone but Luna began to stand and leave the kitchen, talking and bickering, just like old times.

"Because you know something about dealing with Muggles," Bill replied, laughing. "When we sent Kingsley out, he came back with forty anchovy pizzas."

"We ate them though," shouted back Kingsley from the other room. "Took us four weeks, but we ate them all!"

Luna couldn't help feeling sympathy for Emily Hopkirk who seemed totally bewildered at the change of atmosphere and the fact that the kitchen was suddenly empty.

"Don't worry," Luna said to her, patting her arm. "You get used to it. You'd better put your order in, or you'll go hungry."

Clearly dazed and confused, Emily allowed Luna to lead her into the other room where a debate had erupted as to just where they would be getting this take-away food. The fact that they were all witches and wizards and could just create the food seemed to escape them, and as Tonks put it, "It's more fun to make someone else cook it."

It was as she was settling into a chair in the living room that Luna realised Ginny seemed to have followed Harry upstairs. Neville was still looking a trifle nervous, but he put in his vote for sandwiches. Luna placed her head in her hands and smiled at him. Then she cleared her throat and everyone stopped arguing long enough to listen to her.

"I vote for Chinese."