The Summer of the Phoenix

Chapter 6

"Nonsense," said a second, female voice disapprovingly. "Look who it is, Alastor."

"I saw who it is, Minerva, and quite a while before you did, too."

"And you think Albus Dumbledore needs your advice on whether or not to open the door to old friends?"

"Albus Dumbledore thinks that old friends are always welcome to our new Headquarters," Dumbledore's own voice said. "As for being dead, I can assure you he is in the best of health and has no intention what so ever of allowing this situation to change any time in the near future. Come in."

And he moved aside to reveal Minerva McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody standing on the doorstep, Moody in his usual travelling cloak and bowler hat, holding in each hand two huge brown paper bags with the name of a Muggle supermarket printed across them in big orange letters. Professor McGonagall wore a flower print Muggle dress and sandals, a cardigan, and a headscarf. They entered, McGonagall in the lead, and Dumbledore closed the door behind them.

"We couldn't Apparate," she said approvingly. "Congratulations. You've kept at it, I must say." She smiled at Lupin and Sirius, taking in the dusty fronts of their robes, the cobwebs in Lupin's hair and the dark smudges on Sirius's face where he'd wiped his hair off it with dirty hands. "Well done, you two."

For a moment, they both felt as if they were back in class, earning Professor McGonagall's approval for a particularly neat transfiguration.

Dumbledore, apparently struck by a similar thought, chuckled softly. "Yes, it has been a very long time since either of us made Sirius and Remus do lines, hasn't it?" he said. "And I have never seen them set to it more willingly, or perform the task more diligently than today. They have been of invaluable help."

"Oh, lines," Sirius said, and the shadow of a smile appeared on his once handsome face. "It was always James and me who had to do lines, never Remus."

"James, yes," Dumbledore said, and they all fell silent. But there was nothing awkward about it. It was a silence full of the warmth of shared memories. Professor McGonagall's eyes were glistening strangely when Dumbledore's voice finally brought them back to the reality of the gloomy hallway.

"Shall we go downstairs then?" he suggested. "We can talk more comfortably there."

McGonagall nodded.

"Not me," Moody said briskly. "I just came along to give Minerva a hand with the bags, I must be on my way again. I'll be taking the nightshift down in Surrey."

"Surrey," Sirius repeated, his face brightening again. "You'll tell me - "

"I will, Sirius," McGonagall said, putting a hand on his arm. "I've been sitting on Arabella Figg's porch with her and her other cats for a whole afternoon. Let us go down to the kitchen," she took the bulging bags from Moody, "and I will tell you all I know of how your godson is faring at his home."

* * *

The evening meal was a feast. Professor McGonagall's bags seemed magically bottomless, and even when the table was laden with all kinds of delicacies from the Hogwarts kitchens, there still seemed to be enough left to feed a small army for several days. Sirius instructed Kreacher, who was eyeing the food more curiously than the newcomer that had brought it, to store it all in the pantry, and the elf went about it with an eager gleam in his eyes that proved he was as hungry as they were. He even forgot to add anything offensive to his "Yes, Master".

"What news from Surrey then, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked as they began their meal.

McGonagall, who was not as famished as the three men who had been stuck in the house all day, began her account, while the others ate and listened.

"All is well in Surrey, as far as Arabella and I could see. Harry doesn't look very happy - " she glanced at Sirius, who was frowning, and added quickly, "but then, how could you expect him to be, after all that has happened recently? There have been no incidents between him and his Muggle family. He seems to try to avoid them as much as possible."

"He'd write to me about it if they did him any harm," Sirius said.

"Doubtless he would," Minerva McGonagall agreed. "I assure you, Sirius, that Harry is being taken good care of by all of us. Arabella is very fond of him, and takes her duties very seriously. She says he likes to be on his own. He goes for long walks, and sits in the little park near his family's house for hours on end. She sees him there when she does her shopping. But he never strays very far from the house, so Arabella and I agreed it is sufficient that one of us keep watch at night."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"Arabella also says he likes to read the headlines of the Muggle newspapers at the newsagent's, until the man there tells him to either buy a copy or be gone. He's as hungry for news as we all are."

"And the Daily Prophet being useless, he must be completely in the dark of what's going on," Sirius grumbled. "It's not fair."

"It's for Harry's own good," Dumbledore said firmly. "Given the Minister's attitude, we must be extremely careful about how and what we communicate to anyone outside the Order. And I do not want the boy to worry more than he, without doubt, already does."

"Harry's not just anyone outside the Order," Sirius protested. "And he's no longer a child. He saw Voldemort come back. He almost got killed."

"And that," Dumbledore replied, "would be more than enough of a burden to carry for any grown up wizard. That's exactly why I don't want Harry to have to bear more than he absolutely needs to know." He folded his hands on his lap and turned back to Professor McGonagall, the debate clearly closed. "Tell us about the people you've talked to, Minerva."

"I have achieved very mixed results with them," Professor McGonagall reported. "We must not underestimate to what extreme extent people are willing to close their eyes to the obvious, in exchange for a little peace of mind. They find it so hard to let go of their own comfortable truths. Even old Mrs Jones, who lost one of her daughters in the first war, told me outright that if the Daily Prophet said it wasn't true he was back, it wasn't."

"Mrs Jones? The one with the pixies?" Lupin asked.

McGonagall frowned. "I don't know about pixies. I'm talking about the mother of Heather and Hestia Jones. Two very sweet girls, back at Hogwarts. Both in Ravenclaw, if I recall correctly. Heather wasn't even in the Order, the poor thing. She was just in love - in love with a young man who turned out to be a Death Eater. She was so shocked when she found out that in her anger and disappointment, she threatened to tell all the world about it and discredit him publicly for what he was. But You Know Who had her tracked down and killed before she ever got the chance to tell anyone - that is, anyone except her younger sister Hestia, who was still at school at that time, and wise enough to keep the information to herself. Pixies," she said, shaking her head. Lupin looked slightly guilty.

"As I was saying," McGonagall continued, "old Mrs Jones wouldn't listen, but Hestia did. She remembers her older sister fondly, and she says she'll be ready whenever we call her."

"Good girl," Dumbledore said with a warm smile.

"Next, Sturgis Podmore," Professor McGonagall went on.

Dumbledore frowned slightly at the name.

"He was in Hufflepuff. The one that had the breakdown and backed out of the Order after they blew up Benjamin Fenwick."

"I remember who he was," said Dumbledore with a sigh. "And I cannot blame him. He was young then - very young. It was a mistake to admit someone into the Order who was still at school. Fenwick was his hero - he used to captain the Quidditch team where Podmore was Beater. Small wonder that Fenwick's death hit young Sturgis so hard."

"Well, young Sturgis is now, like the rest of us, fifteen years older," said McGonagall matter-of-factly, "and he almost happily seized the chance to make up for what he called 'abandoning the cause'. I could tell that he has never stopped struggling with that in over fifteen years. He sees this as his second chance - if you will have him."

"Of course I will," Dumbledore confirmed.

"Then there are the Boneses. I had a long talk with Amelia over tea at her house. She was very good about it, listening patiently to 'our side of the story', as she put it, 'like an impartial judge should'. She consented to keep our conversation private, but she said that she wanted to withhold judgement until she had more facts, and she has also warned me that her position as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry would not go well with anything that could possibly compromise her absolute loyalty to the welfare of the entire wizarding community. Mind you," she added, when Sirius gave a derisive snort. "Loyalty to the welfare of the entire wizarding community, she said, not loyalty to the person of Cornelius Fudge. I trust Amelia to know the difference between the two when it comes to it. She even told me that she was far from happy about how Fudge handles some issues, such as the reform of the organizational structure of the Ministry departments, and him consulting independent advisors rather than the Heads of Department about it. And I understand the dilemma she is in."

Albus Dumbledore had looked up sharply at the last piece of information. "The reform of the organizational structure of the Ministry departments?" he asked.

"She said no more than that," Minerva McGonagall replied. "Of course it was news to me, too, but she didn't elaborate. In fact, she hardly more than hinted at it."

"But those were her words, 'Fudge consulting independent advisors about the reform of the organizational structure of the Ministry departments'?" Dumbledore repeated urgently.

"Those were her words," Professor McGonagall confirmed. "And that was all she would say."

"At least she listened," said Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair as if that settled the matter for him.

"Unlike Edgar's younger sister," McGonagall continued her report. "Rebecca Bones literally closed the door in my face when I called. 'You might not understand this, Minerva,' she said," and there was a distinct note of bitterness in McGonagall's voice, "'but I have children of my own, and I'm not a fool like Edgar was. I feel I have a duty to keep myself and my children alive.' And that was all. She didn't give me a chance to explain myself. In fact, she didn't even wait for me to tell her why I'd called at all. I might have wanted to talk about nothing but her daughter Susan's poor Transfiguration marks, for all she knew."

Dumbledore, suddenly alarmed, raised an eyebrow. "How did she know then?" he asked, and a very distinct sense of unease crept into the room.

"I - I don't know," McGonagall said thoughtfully, realising the implications. "I suppose her sister warned her about my intentions, in spite of her promise. Although that is not something Amelia would do."

"No matter," Dumbledore said, a little too quickly. "Tell us about the Aurors, then."