Fear

In the cold hallway in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Nymphodora Tonks had appeared instantaneously. She looked quickly around herself, and caught Molly Weasley's eye. She received a nod from the nervous-looking woman and raised her wand into the air in anticipation. As Snape Apparated next to her, she swept her wand in a swift, downwards motion. Instantly there was a flash of golden fire in the middle of the room, and the room filled with a screaming, inhuman howl. The tips of the flame dying from Harry Potter's form were tinged with green, and the teenage boy lying at the centre of them collapsed immediately to the cold stone floor, apparently unconscious.

Mrs Weasley covered the distance from the kitchen doorway to the centre of the hall in a split-second, and was knelt down next to Harry trying to determine what the problem was. At the same moment Mad-Eye Moody appeared, next to Snape and Tonks, looking alert and edgy. He caught sight of Harry with both his normal and magical eyes, which both narrowed in rage and vindication. He turned to Snape instantly.

"The best way to bring him here, eh?" he snarled, before dashing over the Mrs Weasley to help her with Harry. Moody quickly checked Harry over while Mrs Weasley fussed over lying him in what she thought looked like a more comfortable position, disentangling his limbs from his clothes, and removing the feather from his hand.

"He's OK, Molly," said Moody quietly. He pulled his wand and muttered, "Enervate," and Harry's eyelids twitched then opened.

His forehead was still burning as he opened his eyes to the all-too-familiar sight of finding several people leaning over him as though he was gravely ill. He sat up slowly. As soon as he had stabilized himself, Moody started asking questions.

"What happened, Potter?" he growled, suspicion etched over his face, as his magical eye spun round and focused on Snape through the back of his head.

"I, err, I don't know," began Harry, but before he could say any more, Moody had asked another.

"What did you see?"

"See? I saw ... fire ... then," Harry screwed up his face to remember, his eyes struggling to adjust to the warm candlelight - still dazzled by the spell, "a grey place with swirling colour before I caught fire again."

"Then what?" Moody pressed.

"Then there was black catching up the fire around me, then I heard laughter and then the black turned green like, ... like, Avada..."

"There, now dear," Mrs Weasley cut him off, though her voice shook slightly as she patted his chest, before standing to help him up. With a quick look to Moody she confirmed that Moody had no further questions for Harry, before leading him from the hallway into the kitchen, stopping halfway there to hug him tightly. Mrs Weasley had always been the most motherly figure in Harry's life, and he knew that she considered him practically as another son. She released him.

"Are you hurt at all, dear?" she asked gently. Harry thought for a moment - his scar was still prickly, but he didn't say anything to her about it.

"I'm OK," he said.

"Your scar hurts, doesn't it," she said, shrewdly. Harry looked up at her.

"Yes," he admitted, his gaze sinking back down to somewhere around his toes. Mrs Weasley held his hand in her hands and raised his face back up, peering into his eyes.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know," she said, "you have no control over it, and the circumstances in which you received it were beyond the control of any of us. It's not a sign of weakness."

"It is a weakness though," he protested, sadly, "it burns when Voldemort does something, and allows him to see into and control my thoughts." When Mrs Weasley had recovered from the large shudder she had given when Harry had spoken Voldemort's name, she once again promised him that it was nothing to be ashamed of.

Harry then led the way into the kitchen, where he was greeted by the sight of Ron, Hermione and Ginny all looking extremely frightened.

"Harry!" cried Hermione as he entered, and dashed across the room to grab hold of him in a hug as warm as Mrs Weasley's, "thank God you're OK. We've been worried about you, then when we heard that scream in the hall," she squeezed him once more then let go. "What was that anyway?" she asked finally.

"I don't know," Harry lied, with a look that told Hermione that Harry would probably be prepared to talk about it later, "I'm hungry though - anything left over?"

"Of course," said Mrs Weasley, bustling off across the kitchen and returning momentarily with a plate piled high with food. Harry tucked in ravenously, and Mrs Weasley looked as though her suspicions that Harry was underfed by the Dursleys was being proved correct. When he was finished, he looked up finally from his plate to see that everyone in the room was looking at him.

"Well, how were your summers so far, then?" he asked, hoping he sounded cheerful as he shattered the silence.

"Well, there's been a lot of activity in the Order, all secret stuff though," said Mrs Weasley, "Ginny has been sitting around a lot recently, though Ron and Hermione have been quite busy." She finished with a slightly amused tone to her voice, which made Harry grin and turn to the pair of them.

"Oh yeah," he asked, his grin widening across his face, his eyebrows raised. Hermione looked a little flustered, and the tips of Ron's ears had turned their characteristic pink, as they always did when he was embarrassed.

"They've started going out," Ginny supplied helpfully, as Mrs Weasley wrung her hands together and stared at Ron and Hermione, misty eyed. Ginny, Harry noticed, seemed to find the situation just as amusing as he did.

"It's about time," he said, and at this the pair of them looked politely shocked.

"We weren't that obvious," said Hermione quickly, "I mean, I know I wasn't sure until this summer."

"Oh for God's sake, you've been blundering about in your own cute little ways of trying to hide it since I first met Hermione," said Ginny, giggling, and causing Harry to laugh.

Harry stood up with a snort of laughter, walked over and clapped them both on the back. It was the first time he'd felt any emotion other than sadness or anger for about a month, and he wanted it to last as long as possible, before they would inevitably go upstairs and discuss the Phoenix Fire, Sirius and the rise of the Dark Order.

At length, by general consensus they proceeded upstairs, taking Harry's stuff up to the room that he would have to himself, as Ron and Hermione were sharing the room that he and Ron had shared on previous occasions, though Harry was pleased to note that the room still had the two single beds in it. Once his things had been ranged around the room to Harry's satisfaction, the four of them went down to Ron and Hermione's room, and sat down all facing each other, all of them wearing very serious looks to replace the gaiety from the kitchen.

Harry suddenly became aware that he was still slightly black from the Phoenix fire. He felt confused and apprehensive about the discussion that was to follow. Hermione, Ron and Ginny were all regarding Harry sadly - he looked down, away from all of them.

"We all know how you feel, Harry," said Hermione gently.

"Do you?" asked Harry, half-heartedly.

"Yes," said Hermione firmly. "We've known Sirius for as long as you have, we lost him too."

"It wasn't your fault he died though," said Harry, tears beginning to well in his eyes as he thought, once again, about the guilt he had been feeling over the past weeks.

"Nor was it yours," said Hermione, more firmly still, standing up and moving slowly towards Harry.

Harry looked back up from the floor, his eyes red. He was surprised to see, when he met Hermione's eyes that hers were too. She moved over and sat on the bed next to him.

"It was, though," Harry cried, now shaking with emotion, "if I'd just listened to you, we'd never have gone to the Ministry, Sirius would never have had to come, and he'd never have ... never have died."

"It was not your fault," said Hermione, "I know if I'd had visions like that of my parents dying, I'd have been the first to want to go help."

"But you're right, I do have this 'saving-people thing'; I shouldn't have gone, and I shouldn't have made you come - you all got hurt too. That was my fault," he finished quietly.

"Harry we came because we wanted to help you," Hermione replied patiently, while Ron nodded vigorously.

"Yeah," said Ron, "what sort of friends would we be if we'd let you go on your own? Especially after you saved Dad."

"Yeah!" agreed Ginny, fervently.

Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but smile at the huge support he was receiving from his friends.

"I still want to apologize," he said, making eye contact with each of them in turn. They allowed him to do so, nodding to him their acceptance.

"No harm done," said Hermione finally. Ron looked uncomfortable, but Harry didn't see him. He was looking at Hermione.

"You're OK after whatever it was that Death Eater did to you?" he asked, remembering how Hermione had silently fallen after a Death Eater had made a slashing motion with his wand.

"Oh yeah," said Hermione, "I haven't been about to find out what it was."

"Not for lack of trying," said Ron, trying to sound cheerful, though the tremble in his voice betrayed him.

"What..." Harry began, but Hermione nudged him gently. He fell silent and looked at her. When he turned back toward Ron, he saw that Ron looked decidedly ill.

"I'll tell you some other time," whispered Hermione, squeezing him gently before returning to Ron's bed and sitting beside him.

"What's been going on while I've been away at the Dursleys, anyway?" Harry asked, changing the subject away from Ron, but not entirely away from the subject.

"Well, where to start," said Hermione. "There have been a number of disappearances, wizard and Muggle; though everyone in the Order tells us it's not as bad as it used to be." Hermione drew breath, in the characteristic manner of someone trying to decide what to tell first.

"Well, start at the top, I guess," she said, "Fudge resigned..."

"Yeah," said Ron derisively, "said that his family had been 'gravely affected by the return of the Dark Lord', though everyone knows that he didn't want to be the one to preside over the destruction of his cushy little life. Left the country!"

Harry raised his eyebrows. He had once though a lot more of the ex-Minister for Magic, though now the news that Fudge had left didn't seem any less than Harry would have expected of him. After all, he had refused point-blank for an entire year to believe that Voldemort had returned, until he had been confronted face-to-face with the truth in the main entrance hall to the Ministry of Magic.

"Yes, well," said Hermione finally, "Dumbledore was offered the job, naturally, though he turned it down, quoting the school again - though I'm sure that he couldn't reasonably run the Order and the Ministry and Hogwarts. I overheard him say that he can have more influence from where he is than from the Ministry anyway." She twiddled her fingers, thinking once more.

"Who got the job, then?" asked Harry.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," Hermione replied, to Harry's raised eyebrows.

"Really? What did Dumbledore think?"

"Well he seemed to think that having a member of the Order in charge couldn't hurt, what with the additional intelligence the Order are able to pass him, even at the cost of manpower to the Order. It's been working OK," Hermione replied again.

"Oh good, I thought you were going to say Malfoy for a moment there!" joked Harry.

"Haven't you heard?" asked Ron.

"Heard what?"

"Malfoy got arrested at the Ministry the night we were there." Harry's eyebrows were once again raised in surprise. "The Department of Mysteries sealed around most of the Death Eaters. The Order members got out in time, but as soon as the fighting in the Entrance Hall started the entire building was locked down. There is no way you can get out of the Ministry once it's locked down. They got loads of them."

"Hold on," Harry was thinking now, "we left - by Dumbledore's Portkey. And Voldemort's still loose ... how?"

"Well, Dumbledore and Voldemort aren't exactly your average wizards, are they?" asked Hermione.

"Where are they, anyway?" Harry asked, "now that the Dementors have presumably left Azkaban?"

"Well, they're still in Azkaban, but they're magically bound in their cells. I've heard they use immobilization spells, which only allow certain permitted activities. And in case any of the prisoners think they can beat the enchantments, there are dragons outside for good measure."

Harry smiled at the image in his head of Lucius Malfoy hanging from the jaws of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Ron was grinning too, apparently picturing the same thing. Harry then found himself picturing Draco Malfoy not strutting around Hogwarts as he usually did, with his Daddy's name to use to defend himself. He was then surprised to find that he didn't feel vindicated or satisfied, but sorry for Draco. He quickly shook the feeling.

"That should shut Malfoy up good and proper," said Harry with a grin.

"That's the thing," said Hermione nervously, "nobody knows where he is."

"What?"

"He went missing. His mother was arrested for conspiracy to jailbreak - trying to free Malfoy's dad - and when the Ministry went to take Draco into protective custody he wasn't at their Manor." Hermione stopped and let the importance of this news sink in. She knew she didn't need to explain what this meant, but she continued anyway.

"Their best guess is that he is in Voldemort's custody, either voluntarily or because he was abducted."

"Who're 'they'?"

"The Order, well - Dumbledore."

"Malfoy is in training in some Voldemort camp somewhere," said Harry, deadpan.

"Probably," replied Hermione in a similarly flat voice.

"So what?" said Ron, in a voice that told Harry that he'd been wanting to say this for a while, but hadn't dared without Harry to back him up, "we've always known he was an evil little shit. He's gone and joined the losing side, and he'll get what's coming to him," he continued viciously.

Hermione shot a disdainful look at Ron, and spoke to Harry, "of course it's not like that at all. Dumbledore's really worried about having spies at Hogwarts, and reasons he could give for not wanting Malfoy or Crabbe or Goyle at Hogwarts."

"Crabbe and Goyle have gone too," Ginny explained, "though they're not a problem, 'cos Dumbledore could kick them out on their academic record."

"Or lack of it," Hermione added acidly.

Harry though again, for a long moment. He had thought Draco Malfoy was an irritating, arrogant, even mean little creature, but had never thought of him as evil. After all, on their first encounter Draco had seemed normal enough - just a bored schoolboy in the middle of a shopping marathon with his mother, and on their second had offered his friendship, and though he had been rude to Ron, hadn't been necessarily rude to Harry. He had dwelt on this periodically since that day, but had never thought it would come to the point where it was once again relevant. Before he realised, he was speaking.

"I don't reckon Malfoy's evil," he heard himself say aloud. Ron looked up at him, and Hermione's expression changed imperceptibly.

"I mean, he's annoying and arrogant and mean and all that, but he's never actually done anything particularly 'evil'."

"He tried to get Hagrid fired!" exploded Ron.

"Kids always say things like that, but Malfoy's never done anything. It was all his father. Remember when he challenged me to that duel in first year? He didn't even show - he just snitched on us."

"As long as you don't let him snitch on us in any other way!" said Ron. Harry had been expecting this to happen at some point - the conversation was onto Quidditch.