The Summer of the Phoenix

Chapter 18

Arthur Weasley fell down on a chair and ran his hand through his thin red hair. They all stared at him expectantly. "There are dodgy things going on at the Ministry," he said, slowly recovering his breath.

"At the Ministry?" the others exclaimed in one voice.

"I have no idea what's going wrong," said Mr Weasley, spreading his hands. "We didn't talk long. Dumbledore just said exactly that, 'things are beginning to move', and that we'd have to keep a close eye on the Ministry. He said it as if he meant the place itself, the building. And he said he had it confirmed from both sides."

"Both sides?" Tonks asked, looking around for an explanation.

"Snape," Lupin at her shoulder said quickly. "Go on, Arthur."

"Snape?" Tonks's eyebrows formed a dozen new questions.

"Dumbledore says it will mean twice as much work for the Order as before, and it's urgent," Mr Weasley continued, not bothering to explain what could wait. "He says he'll give us the details at our next meeting. That will be on Thursday. But he's apparently already charged Alastor Moody with devising a counter-strategy."

"To counter what?" asked Sirius impatiently.

"I don't know!" Mr Weasley cried almost pleadingly. "Moody wants all the Order's Ministry employees at his house for a briefing early tomorrow morning, before we go to work. You'll probably find an owl at your home telling you as much, Nymphadora. And he also wants you to join him there straight away, Remus."

"What, right now?"

"'As soon as you can make it', he said."

Lupin sighed, but nodded.

"And as for our Headquarters," said Arthur Weasley, turning to his wife and Sirius, "twice as much work for the Order will mean twice as much traffic here, so Dumbledore has asked us - " He ran his fingers through his hair again, not knowing how to break the news. "Or better, he asks you specifically, Molly, if you could stay here for a while... keep the house going... "

"For how long?" his wife asked.

"He wasn't precise about it. A few days. A week. Maybe longer."

Now it was Mrs Weasley's turn to sink down on a chair. "But Arthur," she said rather weakly, "the children! What about the children? Who's going to look after them?"

"That was the first thing I asked Dumbledore, too," said Mr Weasley resignedly, "and he said, bring them along."

"Bring them - what?" Mrs Weasley looked up sharply at her husband, her eyes widening in surprise. "No!" she exclaimed then. "How can he ask us to drag our children into this?"

Mr Weasley took her hand. "We wouldn't be dragging them into this," he said, but not quite believing his own words. "Nobody under age or still at school is allowed in the Order. They won't share any secrets they could be made to tell, Molly."

Mrs Weasley didn't look at all comforted at the idea that anyone could try to make any of her children tell a secret, no matter whether they shared it or not. She seemed on the verge of tears.

"Honestly," Mr Weasley went on, "I believe they'd be as safe here as they're at The Burrow, if not safer. And they could help you with the house... or do their homework..." He looked around at the others for support.

"Look, Molly," said Sirius suddenly, "Dumbledore wouldn't have suggested it if he didn't think your children were safe here. And clearing out the house is a big task, really, I'd be glad if you could all come and help me with it." He hoped he sounded as honest and reassuring as he meant to. One half of him shared Mrs Weasley's concerns, but the other half welcomed the opportunity to issue the invitation - he was yearning for company, and he also felt a strange urge to remind himself and everyone else that this was still his house, and he would decide who came to live in it and who didn't.

"Of course, it's up to you really, Sirius," said Arthur Weasley hastily, trying to take the weight of the decision off his wife's shoulders.

"I wouldn't mind at all," said Sirius quite truthfully. "And if you asked them, the children would probably want to come, too."

"But that's what they are!" Mrs Weasley cried. "Children! They're not old enough to decide for themselves! They're not old enough to understand the risk they'd be taking!"

Sirius frowned and opened his mouth to disagree, but Mrs Weasley was not to be stopped. "And Hermione - what about Hermione? Her parents are away at a Muggle Healers' conference in America, we can't send her home now! We promised to take care of her over the holidays!"

"Well, I don't see how we can take less care of her here than anywhere else," said her husband reasonably.

Mrs Weasley was still sniffing into her handkerchief, but she seemed to have run out of objections for the moment. "We can't just disappear from The Burrow," she said finally. "What are we to do?"

"Pretend we'll all go on holiday to Romania, to visit Charlie," Bill suggested practically.

"We'll have a few days to prepare," said Mr Weasley. "Dumbledore says it's sufficient that we'll have moved in by the time of the next meeting."

If Mrs Weasley had ever thought that she actually had a choice in this matter, this was where it ended, and she knew it. "Then we'd better go straight home, tell the children and get packing," she said, blew her nose, and put her handkerchief away.

They all sprang to life now, relieved to see her back to her own practical self.

"I must be off then," said Bill, checking the light again through the dusty windows. "It's almost dark already, I'll be in trouble else."

"I'll see you out," Sirius offered, desperate to get away from the tense atmosphere in the room, where so little of the homeliness of their dinner party now remained.

"Bill," said Sirius quietly when they emerged into the dark hall, and were out of earshot from the kitchen. "Do you think this is going to work?"

"The kids will love it," said Bill lightly.

"I didn't mean that."

"I know."

Sirius could hardly see Bill's face in the gloom, but he knew that this time, Bill wasn't grinning.

"I'm sure it's going to work," Bill said quite firmly.

"Honestly?"

"Honestly. Don't worry about it. Mum might disagree with you about Harry, and maybe about a few other things as well, but at the end of the day she's really got everyone's best interests at heart."

"That's what I fear."

"I know," Bill said again. "But believe me, she's quite fond enough of you to allow you some very generous exceptions."

"What do you mean?"

Bill gave a short laugh, and clapped Sirius on the shoulder. "She hasn't asked you to cut your hair yet, has she? If I were you, I'd take that as a good sign."

Teaching the snake on the door knob Bill Weasley's name was a matter of a moment, but Bill had hardly gone when his parents came upstairs, too. The snake quickly learned two more names, and accepted them with a nod.

"I'm really sorry to leave you with all this," Mrs Weasley said, gesturing over her shoulder at the door to the kitchen from which they had emerged.

"We'll send word when we'll be here," Arthur Weasley said.

And then all the Weasleys were gone, and Sirius went back downstairs, where Tonks and Lupin were just getting ready to leave as well.

"I feel so bad to just leave like this," Tonks almost echoed Mrs Weasley's words. "I've talked about myself all evening and I haven't heard a single thing about you two. Well, there must be another time." She gave them a smile to share between them. "I'd better get going, too. Not to miss that owl."

"I'll come right with you," said Lupin. "Sirius, you don't mind if I..."

"Looks like I don't have a choice," Sirius replied, trying not to sound bitter. "If Moody says 'as soon as you can make it', you'd better make it soon."

"I'll try to be back as quickly as I can," Lupin said. "I won't be long."

"Send me an owl if it takes longer."

"I will. I'll see you soon."

Sirius suddenly wished his friend would stop making promises that he might not be able to keep, and just go. But when the kitchen door closed behind Lupin and Tonks, Sirius felt terribly alone, and terribly useless, with nothing to occupy himself with but a stack of used plates and goblets and pots in the sink. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the silence and the solitude of the place.

Dumbledore had found something to do for everyone, except for him. But then, Sirius told himself, Dumbledore had probably just been too busy to issue specific instructions for him to do the washing up. He sighed and put the kettle on the stove.

Overhead, the front door fell shut, and Sirius realised only then that it had taken Lupin and Tonks an awfully long time to simply walk up the stairs, say goodbye and leave the house. His eyes fell on the large bowl of Mrs Weasley's fruit salad, uneaten and abandoned on the table, and Sirius felt a sudden urge to smash it to pieces in the fireplace.