Scattered

"Well, that felt stupid," Ron said as they stepped out of the restaurant foyer and back onto the street. The night was warm but windy and he was tired of climbing out of cramped cars and scurrying from one place to the next, feeling like a fugitive. As Bill had decreed, Hermione had handled everything, walking them to the first taxi stand, giving the address, paying the driver, and then all over again. In the restaurant she hadn't even had to go through her "late dinner" act; they'd been immediately informed that the kitchen was already closed. "What's next?"

Hermione shrugged. "That's all I know. Bill?"

The older Weasley nodded and started off down the street, motioning for everyone to follow. Without turning his head, he asked, "Everyone's got their wand at ready, right?" Ron grunted a reply, fingering the wand stashed in his coat pocket. Hermione and Neville indicated they were prepared as well. "Okay. We should be fine, though, don't worry. I memorized the map back at the train. It's not far," he said as they waited to cross at a stoplight.

Ron let Neville and Hermione edge slightly ahead of him on the sidewalk so that he was bringing up the rear. As they turned down yet another side street, he saw they were in a residential area with large vine-colored houses crowded together. Despite the late hour, the roads weren't quite empty: Muggles still scurried about in their cars and their bicycles, all on their way somewhere. The city streets themselves had been rather crowded earlier, though nothing compared to Diagon Alley at the start of term. Diagon Alley, he thought with a pang, hoisting his bag more securely on his shoulder. Bill didn't mention it. I wonder if there's any chance it's still free.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him. "Alright there, Ron?"

"Fine. Though my definition and Bill's of 'not very far' are clearly not remotely similar," he grumbled.

They took one last left turn and Bill announced this was the street, and began counting numbers. "190... there's 210. We want... Okay. 220. This is it."

Ron looked up and saw a large rather nice-looking house with two stories. It was brick and expensive looking. "Are you joking?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. "This is nice."

"Come on," Bill urged them. "I want to get off the street."

At the door Bill produced a set of keys, using one to let them all inside. The foyer was clean and mostly empty, Ron saw, and a short hallway led to a sitting room. The furniture, while not new, was far from shabby. There was a thick rug and a deep sofa, along with two plush chairs and a fireplace.

"Is it okay if I turn on some lights?" Hermione asked.

"I'm going to do a quick sweep first," Bill replied. "Hermione, Neville, you two stay here. Ron, come with me."

Ron followed his older brother through the house, his eyes adjusting to the dark. The kitchen was modern (there was a row of unfamiliar Muggle devices lined up against the wall) with a large dining table;.

"Right," Bill said. "Now, upstairs."

They passed through the sitting room again and Ron gave his friends a cautious smile. Neville looked nervous but Hermione nodded back, her eyes wide. Ron had to look away and follow Bill cautiously; it was dark and though the stairs weren't steep, he felt completely awkward and half-blind.

Upstairs a narrow hallway revealed four doors. The first, nearest the top, was the loo; Bill prodded the curtain hanging around the bathtub, making sure no surprises were inside. Then he checked the two rooms on the right. Each was a bedroom, containing a normal-sized bed and dresser but little else. Bill made a quick scan of the closet in each room while Ron waited at the door. Then, still silent, they moved towards the final room on the left. This bedroom was slightly larger than the others and had a bigger bed. It had two closed doors; one was a closet and the other, to Ron's surprise, was a small but completely-equipped loo.

"That's convenient," he remarked, impressed. "Quite a place, this is."

Bill nodded. "It's nice. One last thing." He moved carefully over to the window and, standing to the side, pulled the curtain slightly and peered out into the darkness. After a moment he motioned for Ron to do the same.

Ron pressed his face up to the glass and looked out into a small-sized yard which appeared to be empty aside from a picnic table off to one side.

"You don't see anything either?" Bill asked. Ron shook his head. "Good," his brother said with a sigh of relief. "The house is clear, then."

Bill was visibly relaxed as he stepped away from the window. "Hermione, you can turn on some lights," he yelled.

Ron held out his wand. "Lumos."

"Thanks," Bill said as it became easier to see, "but this is a Muggle house -- we can use magic, of course, but it's got electricity."

"No kidding!" Ron said. "Wouldn't Dad get a hoot out of that?"

Bill grinned and walked over to the doorway. "That's what I was thinking. Anyway, this switch thing here -- down puts the lights on, up turns them off." He flicked the switch and the ceiling lamp came on, making the room seem much less eerie. "Let's go downstairs and join the others. We've got a lot to talk about."

Hermione and Neville had turned every light in the house on, it seemed, and the kitchen and sitting room now seemed cheery and welcoming. Neville was cautiously opening cupboard doors and eyeing a large white cabinet that seemed to be emitting a low hum.

"What is that thing?" he asked.

Hermione laughed. "The refrigerator. It keeps food cold, or frozen -- the top door is the freezer. If you're a Muggle you have to have one of these to keep your food fresh."

Ron snorted. "We're not Muggles, though, who needs it?"

"It's a Muggle house, Ron," Bill pointed out. "So it's furnished just like any other normal Muggle house."

"Does it belong to the Order?" Hermione asked. "Who lived here before? There's food and dishes and all other kinds of supplies here."

Bill nodded, peeking into a cabinet or two himself. "Good. Yes, this house, as do the others like it, belongs to the Order. I've never been here before but I knew we had a few places like this stashed away. Nobody's lived here in awhile, though." He opened the refrigerator and poked around, then offered them each something to drink.

Ron was fascinated by the small cans containing a sweet, fizzy beverage and took a long swallow of appreciation. The other had piled their bags and his at the bottom of the staircase and moved back into the sitting room. Hermione was curled up on one end of the sofa and Ron settled in beside her, setting his drink on the coffee table.

"Coaster, please," Hermione chastised, taking a thin circular disk from a pile on the table and setting it under his drink.

"What for?"

"It'll make a ring on the table otherwise."

He rolled his eyes. "Who cares? I'll charm it off or something, if it matters to you. Hermione, it's a Muggle house, but we're not Muggles, remember?"

"Yes, Ron, I'm aware of that," she snapped. "I'm the one here who's Muggle-born so I'm pretty clear on the difference -- it's been pointed out to me enough, after all."

Ron instantly regretted giving her a hard time. Hermione was in more danger from Death Eaters than any of them, and always had been, just because of the simple fact of her birth. She didn't need him complaining about Muggles at every turn. Hell, he'd spent years now beating the crap out of Malfoy for disparaging her parentage, and yet he wasn't being very sensitive about it either just now.

Besides, if he was being honest with himself, he'd be forced to admit that much of his whinging about Muggles stemmed from his own ignorance and the resulting sense of discomfort he always felt in their world -- plus a habit formed from teasing his father about his strange Muggle gadget obsession.

"We'd be having a much harder time of it if Hermione wasn't with us," Bill lectured him, unaware of his brother's regret. "I know a little bit more about the Muggle world than you do, but not much. We should be grateful she's able to explain Muggle devices and customs to us. We're going to be living surrounded by Muggles for awhile, little brother. Better get used to it."

Ron scowled. "You don't have to tell me how brilliant Hermione is." As the words left his mouth, he felt his ears turn red and his eyes fell to the floor. Beside him, Hermione was silent. Neville coughed uncomfortably.

Bill gave him an odd look for a moment and then shrugged. "Fine, then. Now, let's see if we can't track down Lupin."

"Really?" Hermione said eagerly. "You have a way?"

Bill stood and crossed to the fireplace, starting a fire with a wave of his wand. On the mantle, in the very center, was a large ceramic urn, tastefully painted with pastel flowers. "The Order's safehouses are connected by their own private Floo network. Each house is connected to two other houses, kind of in a chain. The papers I was reading on the train said how to contact Remus, and someone else has been given instructions on how to contact us, and so on. We're supposed to check in at least once a week."

Ron could tell that Hermione was heartened by this news, but for some reason his spirits were far from lifted. Once a week, he thought, and suddenly he looked around the room, the house, this street and thought, I could be living here the rest of my life, for all I know.

"So..." Bill said, taking a pinch of powder from the vase, "I'm going to give it a go." Tossing the powder into the fire, he yelled, "Number 15!" and leaning down, stuck his head in the flames. "Remus! Are you there?"

Ron fidgeted impatiently. They wouldn't be able to hear the other end of the conversation... if there was one.

"Remus!" Bill called again.

Next to him, Hermione took a deep, shaky breath.

"Re--"

Bill cut himself off abruptly and they all waited, tense and hopeful.

"I can't tell you what a relief it is to see you," he said finally.

Ron flopped back on the couch with a huge sigh of relief. Grinning, he looked around at Neville and Hermione. Neville was smiling excitedly from ear to ear and Hermione was practically beaming. Impulsively, Ron reached over and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, and then looked startled when he didn't let go. Ron shrugged sheepishly and she still seemed baffled -- but left her hand in his.

"Good idea," Bill was saying. "Okay, then. We're number 17."

He pulled his head from the fire and turned to them, smiling. "He's okay. He wanted to talk to all of you so he'll use the fireplace instead... There he is now."

Remus Lupin had been a favorite teacher for all of them, but Ron hadn't ever grown anywhere near as close to him as Harry had, or even Hermione. Given the chance, Hermione loved to talk to their old Defense teacher for hours on end about charms, curses and all sorts of magical creatures -- not to mention their shared passion for the subject of prejudice in the Wizarding world. He supposed they each had a unique perspective on that kind of thing, Hermione from being Muggle-born and Lupin from being a werewolf. Lupin had given S.P.E.W. more consideration than any other person she'd ever tried to convert to its cause, but he'd gotten through to her what seemingly others could not: the elves themselves had to want liberation before they'd ever be granted it. Lupin, though, had stated that he firmly believed Hermione would find a way to right what he, too, perceived as an inherent wrong.

Ron had thought Lupin was a bang-up Defense teacher and he'd certainly admired him. He knew Lupin cared very much for Harry, for Hermione, and for all of the Weasleys, including Ron. But -- he was awfully smart. Not in a bossy put-everything-out-there way, like Hermione. Lupin was -- deep. Quiet. Sort of intimidatingly intelligent in a way Ron couldn't really get a handle on.

Even so, at that moment, seeing Remus Lupin was like Christmas and Halloween and every birthday he'd ever had all rolled into one.

"Hermione, Ron, Neville... it's so good to see all of you safe and sound," Lupin was saying.

"Oh Professor, you, too!" Hermione cried fervently. "We were so worried."

Neville nodded vigorously.

Bill pulled one of the armchairs a bit closer to the fire; Neville did the same. "Tell us what happened, Remus," Bill said.

"Of course. I received word about Albus Dumbledore's passing this morning -- a sad day for all of us," he said with a short pause. "I spoke to your father, Ron, and we made plans to meet at the Leaky Cauldron in a few hours for tea. But I went straight to Diagon Alley to do some shopping first and I was there when the attacks began. I felt the effects of the Charm of Remembrance when I was in the midst of a battle, I'm afraid, and that delayed my departure. I got away and went straight to the Burrow but -- I wasn't there in time."

Their old professor paused and cleared his throat, looking at Bill.

"It's as I suspected, then?" Bill asked. Remus nodded but still looked hesitant. "It's alright, I warned Ron," Bill added.

Remus sighed. "I am sorry, Ron, but the Burrow was destroyed."

Ron took a deep breath and struggled to remain calm. Hermione squeezed his hand and then began rubbing her thumb over his knuckles, again and again. He focused on that soft gesture and accepted what he'd heard. He was glad Bill had prepared him for this.

He suddenly realized how close a call they'd had. Remus had gotten to the Burrow probably less than a half-hour after they'd left, and by then it had been destroyed. That meant, most likely, just moments after he and Bill and Hermione had left, the Death Eaters had been there. Another few minutes delay -- if they hadn't packed already, if they'd hesitated, if he'd argued with Bill just a few minutes longer and... He gripped Hermione's hand. "At least we got out safely," he said finally. "That's what matters."

Bill gave him a steady look and smiled.

"You're absolutely right, Ron," Remus admitted. "Thank goodness. I confess I was quite worried until I spoke to Minerva just a short time ago, and she reassured me that Bill was there and that you undoubtedly had left the premises just a few moments after she had."

"Is Ginny okay?" Ron asked quickly.

"Yes, she's fine. She said to tell you not to worry about her and -- I believe her exact words were, 'don't do anything to be a prat, and don't fight with Hermione all the time'. Keep in mind I'm just the messenger," Remus added with a small smile.

Neville laughed.

"So," Remus continued, "I went on to my next destination. Seamus Finnegan and Hannah Abbott are both here with me at our safehouse; we encountered no difficulties on the journey. I'm sorry I couldn't get to the Burrow in time for you, Ron."

"That's okay," Ron replied with a shrug. "We worked it out."

Remus looked at Bill and chuckled. "Good thing neither of us took the twins' bet, after all."

Ron felt his ears going red and suddenly felt very self-conscious about Hermione's hand in his. He didn't want to just drop it like a hot potato, though -- that would be sure to hurt her feelings. He glanced over at her and she laughed a little, gave his hand a final squeeze and pulled away, reaching for her drink. Ron felt relieved; at the same time, though, he also had to admit he missed the reassurance of touching her.

Neville spoke suddenly, interrupting Ron's thoughts. "Professor--"

"I haven't been your professor in a very long time; you can just call me Remus."

"Okay," Neville said, looking a little uncomfortable. "R-Remus, you said you were in Diagon Alley. Does V-Voldemort... Did he take over Diagon Alley, as well?"

Remus looked serious again. "Yes, I'm afraid so; it wasn't much of a battle, really, and I was fortunate to be able to escape. You know about the Ministry and Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts?"

"McGonagall told me at the Burrow," Bill said. "But she didn't have time for details."

"Yes. Well, it was a coordinated attack, of course. Unfortunately Voldemort had rather more spies within the Ministry than we were aware of. He took control there first, and then sent his lieutenants to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. He himself took control of Hogwarts and I suspect he's there now."

Beside him, Hermione made a sad noise, covering her eyes with her hands. "How?" she said, wiping away tears. "How did he manage it? There are so many wards and spells around Hogwarts. He shouldn't have been able to gain access at all!"

"It was all in the timing, Hermione," Remus said kindly, sensing her distress. "Albus Dumbledore's death resulted in a lessening of some of the more powerful wards he had personally put in place. The castle was hardly unprotected, but there were... temporary weaknesses. Voldemort learned of Dumbledore's passing through his spies at the Ministry. He took swift action there. Minerva's best guess is that he tortured several high-ranking officials into revealing the way to best gain access to the castle."

To know Hermione was to know how much Hogwarts meant to her, and it was clear how much the idea of Voldemort walking its hallowed halls tore at her heart. "But... the professors..."

Remus frowned and looked reluctant to speak. "Voldemort is incredibly powerful now, Hermione. And he brought many of his followers with him. Minerva said she saw Lucius Malfoy and the Lestranges, amongst others. Only a handful of professors were there on the grounds; some were away on holiday. Sibyl Trelawney, for example, was away, as was Rolanda Hooch. Firenze was with the herd, in the forest. Some of the other staff as well. Not many remained."

"Were there casualties?" Bill asked.

"Yes, according to Minerva, I'm afraid there were."

Hermione took a deep breath and seemed to prepare herself, physically and mentally, for whatever was coming.

"Flitwick. Sinistra. And... Pomona Sprout."

Across the room, Neville gasped sharply, his face gone white. He sank down in his chair and put his head in his hands. Ron suspected he was crying a bit, but he hardly blamed the bloke.

"Neville was Professor Sprout's assistant," Hermione softly explained to Bill and Remus. She got up and moved to Neville's side, leaning down to put an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his back comfortingly. "I'm so sorry, Neville."

Ron felt a dull headache settle in at the base of his skull and suddenly felt utterly exhausted. It was difficult to believe it had been less than a day since this nightmare all began, and as much as earlier he'd been unable to rest, now he wanted nothing more than to collapse into oblivion for a few hours, at least.

Bill and Remus were talking quietly. Ron got up and stood closer to the fireplace, leaving Neville some privacy while Hermione offered words of comfort.

"Do you think all of the groups made it to safety?" Bill was asking. "The twins, Tonks..."

Remus shrugged. "I hope so. We'll find out in the next day or so, as everyone checks in. You haven't heard from anyone else yet?"

"No," Bill said. "But some people had farther to travel than others, I imagine."

"We'll get word. For now, we should both focus on getting settled in."

Bill agreed. "There's a lot to go over. I confess I'm feeling wiped out just now."

"It's natural, the shock, I think," Remus said, his eyes looking haunted for a moment. Ron had the feeling he was thinking of times past. "We'll talk again soon," he said finally. "Say good-night to Hermione and Neville for me, will you, Ron?"

"Sure thing."

"Get some rest, Bill," Remus said.

"You as well."

Remus' head disappeared and the fire dwindled. Bill put out the remaining flames with a flick of his wand and ran a tired hand over his face.

"He's really an amazing man. Can you imagine going through this twice in your lifetime?" he said finally.

"I was thinking the same thing," Ron admitted. "But I'm not sure I've got a good grasp on going through it once yet, so the answer's definitely no."