The Summer of the Phoenix

Chapter 32

The next morning, Sirius overslept hopelessly. He was only slowly rising back to the surface of a sea of deep and dreamless sleep when his ears picked up the sound of a door opening. There was a surprised little "oh", and before Sirius could open his eyes, the door had closed again, and in less than half a minute, he had sunk back into sleep. After another hour that felt like only a short moment, he woke again, this time from a brisk knock on the study door. He was quickly awake and alert now. "Come in," he called, sitting up on his sofa. The door opened, and framed in the doorway were Ron and Hermione, Hermione looking as embarrassed as Ron looked amused.

"Good morning," said Ron. "Mum says if you want breakfast before lunch, you've got to get up now."

Hermione scowled at Ron, but Sirius laughed, shook his hair out of his eyes and got to his feet.

"We're very sorry," Hermione said apologetically. "I just wanted to bring back the books from yesterday, and look at some more."

"You're welcome to," said Sirius. His eyes fell on the pile of books and parchments in the corner under the window. "Anyone know where Kreacher is? He's got to get this old stuff out of the way."

But before either of them could reply, Sirius remembered that Kreacher must still be in the bathroom where he had locked him in the night before, and accompanied by his young friends, he went to rescue the house-elf from his captivity. The moment he opened the bathroom door, Sirius was instantly showered with a new series of muttered insults, and he promptly regretted that he hadn't just left the elf to starve to death in there.

"Oh," Hermione said pityingly, "I think he really is out of his mind, Sirius, maybe he was cold and afraid in there, he doesn't know what he's saying."

"He does," said Sirius grumpily. "He's probably spent the whole night thinking up new names to call me, he just had to try them all out straight away." He instructed Kreacher to find a sack and get rid of the old books, and went to face Mrs Weasley's displeasure next.

But Mrs Weasley didn't look displeased, she looked positively distraught when Sirius came down to the kitchen. Her eyes were red and swollen as if she'd cried recently, and her brow was furrowed with deep lines of worry. It was instantly clear that there must be more behind her distress than just Sirius sleeping till noon. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but Mrs Weasley, avoiding his eyes, practically ran past him out of the kitchen, and Sirius could do nothing but shake his head at her abrupt departure.

Sirius didn't bother to sit down for a cheerless solitary meal, but went back to the habit of wandering through the house with a mug of tea in one and a piece of toast in the other hand to see what his housemates were up to. He met Kreacher again on the second landing. The house-elf was dragging a dusty sack behind him with hands that bore some angry welts and cuts to prove that not all the books had let themselves be thrown out without putting up a struggle.

"Oh, old Master loved his books, and now his ungrateful brat makes Kreacher throw them out, the filthy scum, poor Kreacher." He passed Sirius without looking up, and disappeared down the stairs, the sack bumping along behind him. Sirius's eyes narrowed. The sack looked far too small to hold all the books he had decided to throw out. A quick look into the study told him that he was right. The corner under the window was empty, but there were far fewer gaps on the shelves now than the merciless clear out on the day before had left there.

"Is anything wrong?" said Hermione's voice behind him. She was coming down from her own room with her spellbooks under one arm and an assortment of quills and parchment under the other. Sirius hastily shook his head, knowing only too well that where books were concerned, Kreacher would more than definitely have the House Elf Liberation Front on his side.

* * *

Hermione spent most of the day, and indeed almost the whole weekend, sitting in the study, researching something that she kept very secret, covering her parchment and snapping her books shut whenever someone came into the room, vaguely muttering "homework" when asked what she was doing.

The young Weasleys found far less studious, but equally enthusiastic ways of making themselves at home at No. 12, Grimmauld Place. Mrs Weasley kept reminding them to be quiet and careful, but there was always a certain level of noise and excitement in the house now that no warnings and no scolding could subdue.

Fred and George, Sirius learned when he and Ron helped them clear out junk from their room, had brought half their trunks full of colourful sweets and toys and funny looking instruments. In conspiratorial whispers, they confided the details of their joke shop plans to Sirius, and gave him a spectacular show demonstrating the uses and effects of their products, which only ended when Mrs Weasley came to investigate the source of their howls of laughter, and promptly went into a long sermon about which jobs made you a useful member of the wizarding society, and which didn't.

Mrs Weasley's mood didn't brighten when on Saturday afternoon, an overexcited Pigwidgeon escaped from Ron's room and flitted madly through the whole house, hitting chandeliers and brushing curtains, leaving thick clouds of dust behind, hooting shrilly and refusing to let himself be caught. He only fled back into the safety of Ron's hands after he'd almost got crushed by a very angry bedside cabinet in Ron's parents' room, which had lashed out viciously with its door when the tiny owl whizzed past.

Crookshanks topped it all when just before dinner on that day, George quite unintentionally stepped on a dungbomb outside the kitchen door that the cat had rolled all the way downstairs. It went off with a squelch and gave Mrs Weasley a reason to shout for ten minutes straight.

But Sirius didn't mind these disturbances half as much as she did. On the contrary, with five young people, a cat and an owl in the house, No. 12, Grimmauld Place, was beginning to feel almost like a normal place to live.

It was Monday before anyone else from the Order, apart from Mr Weasley, looked in again at all, but Sirius didn't mind that either. He often thought of his friends on guard in the dark Ministry corridor, but neither with the sickening worry nor with the fierce jealousy that he had felt before. They knew now what they were doing, and so did he, and despite the fact that the danger hadn't lessened, his heart was much lighter for it.

Late on Monday afternoon, a rather tired Bill Weasley turned up at number twelve, and had hardly closed the front door behind him when his younger brothers and sister came thundering down the stairs and positively fell upon him, not heeding their mother's call for silence in the entrance hall. Bill grinned at them broadly and hugged them all in turn. "There you are," he said cheerfully. "And the house still standing. Well done."

"Where have you been, Bill?" Ginny asked excitedly, hanging onto his arm. "Why didn't you say hello on Friday?"

Mrs Weasley looked at her daughter with suspiciously narrowed eyes.

"Was I here on Friday?" Bill said innocently. "I can hardly remember. So much to do. Lots of work at the bank." He gave his mother a reassuring smile over his sister's head.

"Oh yeees," Fred squealed in an unnaturally high voice, faking a French accent. "Our Beelly 'as zo much work to do, pooor boy!"

"Shut it, you," Bill snarled at his brother, but in a good-natured way, and disentangled himself from Ginny.

"Any news, Bill?" Sirius asked, and the smile instantly disappeared from Bill's face.

"Oh, there is," he said. "Haven't you heard it yet?" He reached into the pocket of his cloak and produced a newspaper from it.

"Not here, Bill," Mrs Weasley said sharply.

"Mum, if it's in the Daily Prophet, it's not a secret," George protested.

"What's happened?" Sirius asked urgently.

Bill handed him the paper. "Read for yourself," he said, taking off his cloak and loosening his Gringotts tie while Sirius opened the paper and looked at the headline. International Confederation of Wizards Elects New Chairmanship Panel. Albus Dumbledore Resigns after Worst Election Results in Forty Years, it blared in big letters.

"Oh no."

"It's not a really big surprise though, is it?" Bill remarked resignedly. "After what happened in the Wizengamot the week before last."

"But you'd think that he'd get a bit more support internationally," said Mrs Weasley sadly, glancing over Sirius's arm at the headline. "Not every country in the world has a Fudge and a Daily Prophet."

"No, but not every country has had a Voldemort either, and knows what it means," Sirius said bitterly, ignoring everyone else's unease at hearing the name spoken. "And Fudge's arm seems to have grown longer than we think," he added, looking over the article. "It says here, overwhelming international support for new British candidates... Ministry now very well represented in Chairmanship to reflect Britain's importance as one of the world's leading magical nations, leading magical dimwits they mean... Dumbledore... long-winded speech revolving around fixed idea of the return of Him Who blah blah... apparently losing touch with real concerns of magical community worldwide... might be first symptoms of rapidly developing senility, insiders hint... "

"Senility!" Fred roared.

"... Worst re-election results for Dumbledore in forty years on the Chairmanship panel... vast majority votes against him... admits defeat... Order of Merlin to reconsider ...Bah."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "They can't take his Order of Merlin away!"

"They can do much more than that," Bill said darkly.

"No they can't," Hermione insisted. "It's in their statutes. Once awarded, it can never be taken away again."

"Well, that's a relief," Sirius said sarcastically. "If things keep going downhill at this rate, his Order of Merlin will soon be the only comfort Dumbledore's got left."

"And the chocolate frog collecting cards," Bill reminded him with a wry grin.

Sirius folded the paper and threw it to George, who caught it eagerly. "Any other bad news, Bill?"

"Not as far as I know," Bill replied. "All quiet back there."

"Back where?" Fred asked quickly.

"Nowhere," said Bill. "What's for dinner?"