The Summer of the Phoenix

Chapter 22

Sirius couldn't tell whether he felt better or worse after Tonks's short visit. Every time he thought of his friends, stationed in a Ministry corridor where the smallest sound or movement might betray them, expecting to be attacked by Voldemort's followers or discovered by Ministry employees any moment, he felt something tighten in his chest that made it hard to breathe.

But it was not only the frustration of not being able to share what he still thought of as their adventures. He also felt guilty now - guilty to be sitting safely at home with ample time on his hands to eat and sleep as much as he wanted, while they hardly allowed themselves the time for either. Tonks had been right, it was crazy. But then, Albus Dumbledore never did anything crazy without a good reason.

All the same, his worries must have followed him into his sleep, and they startled him out of it just after midnight, when they'd be changing shifts. Sirius sank back into a fitful sleep after a while, but woke again shortly before six, when the new morning shift would relieve the old one. The Aurors and Arthur Weasley would have to go to work soon, so it was probably Moody's and Lupin's turn again now. Sirius tried to imagine what it must be like to sit under an Invisibility Cloak with a twitchy Mad-Eye Moody who saw a Death Eater behind every door and around every corner. He hoped that Moody had at least let Lupin get a full night's sleep before they took over again.

Sirius found it impossible to go back to sleep now. Outside his window, a new summer day was dawning, the first timid rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains, promising a bright and warm day. And bright it might well be, Sirius remembered. Today at the latest was when the Weasleys were to move in.

And sure enough they did.

Sirius saw them arrive from his usual place at the window of Buckbeak's room. Around noon, a short, plump woman and three children at her back, a boy and two girls who were dragging heavy trunks behind them, emerged onto the square from the street that led to the main road and the underground station. The Weasleys were immediately recognisable by their flaming red hair that shone like beacons in the sunlight. They arrived in front of number twelve, Mrs Weasley looking around anxiously and checking her watch.

Ron, seeming even taller than Sirius remembered him, had put his owl cage down and was now gazing at the houses around him with his hands thrust deeply into his pockets. Sirius raised a hand in greeting, but then he realised that Ron couldn't see number twelve at all.

Hermione, who had brought a large wicker basket with her, had set it down on top of her trunk and seemed to be speaking to it. The other girl sank down on her own trunk, panting and wiping her forehead with the sleeve of her denim jacket. She must be Ginny, the youngest of the Weasley children.

Mrs Weasley appeared to say something to the three others, shaking her head in disapproval. Then suddenly, she gave a start and turned around to the unkempt patch of lawn in the middle of the square. Sirius followed her gaze. Two more red-headed boys had appeared on the grass from out of nowhere, each of them clutching a handle of their own trunks, and grinning broadly. They were completely identical - Sirius decided he wouldn't even start guessing who was Fred and who was George.

Mrs Weasley beckoned them quickly over to where the rest of the little party was waiting, and took a small piece of parchment from her handbag. They gathered around her in a circle, and a moment later turned towards the house again. There was the same expression of complete astonishment on all their faces as they stared straight ahead at number twelve. Sirius, who knew what they were seeing, smiled to himself, and went downstairs to meet them.

When he arrived in the hall, Mrs Weasley had already opened the door, and they were just entering, the girls in front, carrying a trunk between them.

"Come on, be quick," he heard Mrs Weasley say. "Get inside, and don't make any noise in the hall, do you hear? Right, give me the cage, Ron... no, don't let him out yet, Hermione - "

Sirius came forward to greet them and help them with the luggage when suddenly, a large form hurled itself at him from the direction of the door. "Oh no!" he heard Hermione's exasperated voice, and then the thing was on him. Caught off his guard, Sirius stumbled at the impact, fell backwards and found himself sitting on the lowest step of the stairs, clutching the thing that had just jumped at him tightly in his arms. It felt like a giant ginger fur ball.

"Hello, Crookshanks," he said, and disentangled himself from the cat, which was now trying to curl up on his lap, purring happily. "Hello, Hermione. Hello, Ron. Nice to see you again."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Hermione cried, but was silenced by a sharp hiss from Mrs Weasley.

"Sssh! No noise in the entrance hall!"

Hermione shut up quickly, and silently held out her arms for her cat. Sirius got up and handed a very unwilling Crookshanks, who was clinging to the front of his robes with his claws, back to his owner.

"Welcome to Grimmauld Place," he said to her and the group of young Weasleys. "Is there anything else you want to spring on me, or was that all?"

Ron grinned, but his brothers and sister just stood staring at Sirius with wide eyes.

"These are my other children, Sirius," Mrs Weasley said unnecessarily. "This is Fred, and this is George." The twins nodded simultaneously, and Sirius was no wiser than before.

"I'm Ginny," Ron's sister piped up, and even attempted a timid smile.

"It's great to meet you all," he said again, looked from one to the other, counted heads, and suddenly realised. "And where's - " He broke off, catching the look on Hermione's face. She had raised her eyebrows very quickly and gave a hasty little shake of her head. "Where's your father?" he finished rather lamely. "At work, I suppose?"

"Of course," Mrs Weasley replied. "He'll join us here tonight." She seemed not to have noticed anything odd about his question.

Sirius looked at Hermione, frowning, but she shook her head again, looking down at her shoes now. "All right," he said. "So let's get you and your stuff upstairs to your rooms." He pointed his wand at Ron's trunk, which was nearest. "Locomotor trunk."

"Locomotor trunk," the twins repeated in one voice, and both their trunks were lifted from the ground, hovered on the spot for a moment, and then started racing each other for the stairs.

"Don't!" Mrs Weasley hissed exasperatedly as Fred and George tore after them, clearly taking advantage of the fact that the situation didn't allow their mother to shout at them. They could hear the trunks bumping into each other on their way up the narrow stairs.

"Honestly!"

"Never mind," said Sirius. As long as the twins didn't make too much noise, there was no point in letting Mrs Weasley wake up Mrs Black with her scolding, and if they did, she'd wake up anyway. "Wait for us on the second landing," he called after the twins, and then followed them at a more reasonable pace, Ron's trunk floating along in front of him. Ron, Hermione and Ginny brought up the rear.

Mrs Weasley sighed. "Lunch is in an hour," she hissed after them in a very sharp whisper, and went downstairs to the kitchen.

On the second landing, Fred and George were waiting for the others with apologetic grins on their faces.

"Who won?" Sirius asked.

"Me," said whoever of the twins he was, and Sirius acknowledged the pointlessness of the question. He pushed the door to his own old bedroom open with his elbow. "This is going to be yours," he said to Ron, directing his trunk inside and settling it down at the foot of the bed. "If the portrait over there comes visiting, don't mind him if he's rude. He can't help it, it runs in the family."

Ron frowned a little, but went inside, carrying the cage with the little owl that had once been a present from Sirius. "Can I let Pig out?" he asked.

"Sure," said Sirius, and quietly wondered why he hadn't realised straight away who the 'Pig' in the letter had been. But then, it was a rather unlikely name for a tiny owl.

"The rest of us go up to the third floor," he told the others, and Fred and George waved their wands at their trunks again and proceeded upstairs. Sirius showed them the room they were to occupy, told them not to touch anything for all the good it would do, and finally opened the door to the small room for the girls.

His brother's old bedroom, very unlike his own, was still stuffed with things that had once belonged to Regulus. There was a shelf full of books, mostly schoolbooks, the cupboards were still full of robes, and his brother's old school trunk stood under the window as if he'd arrived home from Hogwarts only yesterday. It looked very much as if it was Sirius who had been dead for fifteen years, while Regulus only seemed to have gone out for the moment and was expected back home at any time.

Hermione sat down on one of the beds. "It's - it's very nice," she said politely, looking around the dusty room.

"It's a little crowded," said Sirius apologetically. "You'll just have to live out of your trunks for the moment, we'll clear all this old stuff out soon. Wait, maybe this is empty." He squatted down on his heels next to his brother's trunk and tried to open it. It wasn't locked, but the metal catches were so corroded they wouldn't open.

"Sirius," Hermione's voice behind his back asked suddenly, "who is Regulus Black?"