Promises Unbroken

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Thirteen: The Impossible

The year of 1991 was winding down, and they had the perfect prank to end it all. They prepared diligently for the last few weeks leading up to the Christmas holidays, even going so far as to substitute George in for Fred for one night of the latter's detention; one would think that Filch could tell the twins apart by now, but even the grumpy caretaker had been fooled. That had turned out to be a good thing, because the Misfits had needed Fred's strength in Charms--George was better at Transfiguration, and Lee preferred Potions, while the three younger pranksters simply did not have enough experience to work the all spells required for their complicated prank. Even then, they had all breathed a huge sigh of relief when George came back unscathed. The twins had never found a reason to exchange detentions before (especially since they usually served them together), but it was nice to know that worked when necessary.

Snape's classroom in the dungeon was the hardest to break into; the Misfits became very glad that they had started early, because it took them three nights to sneak into the Potions classroom, and even then they had almost been caught. Hermione's quick Stopping Charm had saved them, of course, and the Misfits continued on their merry way, transfiguring and charming everything within reach--and a great many things that weren't within reach, too. Finally, the night before the last day of classes (which would more appropriately have been called the morning of, since they had finished barely two hours before dawn), they crept back into the Gryffindor common room, exchanging tired but victorious grins as they'd stumbled into bed.

The morning, however, came far too quickly. Anyone who watched the group at breakfast would have thought that the Misfits were suspiciously subdued, but Harry was unable to care. He simply couldn't wait for Transfiguration class to begin--and for once, he envied Fred, George, and Lee, who had Potions first. This was the one and only day that he had ever been eager to see the look on Snape's face.

Once they reached Professor Fletcher's classroom, it proved nearly impossible to concentrate. Harry fidgeted endlessly in his seat next to Ron, earning a dirty look from Hermione as she struggled to pay attention. She was faring only a little better than Harry was, but then again, Hermione never had problems concentrating in class. Ron was another matter entirely; he was doing worse than both of them put together, and his eyes flickered around the room, focusing briefly on every item they had worked on over the past two weeks. By this time, the trio's classmates were beginning to notice Ron's behavior (and some were even more alarmed by the fact that Hermione's hand hadn't shot into the air to answer every single question), and Harry was trying his best to seem innocent as his classmates sent piercing looks in his direction. Even Neville, who had become distracted and preoccupied ever since his father's capture, seemed to notice, which finally caused Harry to dig an elbow into his friend's ribs.

"Pay attention," he hissed under his breath when Ron looked at him.

His red haired friend stared at him blankly, so Harry jerked his head in Neville's direction. The other boy was still looking at them suspiciously, and Ron finally nodded in understanding. "Sorry," he mumbled. "But it shouldn't be long, now..."

"What shouldn't be long, now, Mr. Weasley?" a voice demanded, and Harry gulped as he looked up.

Neither boy had noticed Professor Fletcher approach, but now their hard-nosed Head of House was standing in front of Harry and Ron, staring down at them with a very pointed expression. In the back of the room, Harry overheard Malfoy snickering, and he groped around in his mind for a suitable excuse. Fortunately, Ron beat him to it.

"I'm just eager for the Holiday to begin, sir," his friend replied quickly. "You know, to go home for awhile. I guess I got a little impatient waiting for class to end. I'm sorry, Professor."

Harry had never known that Ron was such a good liar, but Fletcher was clearly convinced. "I see," he grumbled. "Perhaps you've yet to realize, Weasley, that paying less attention does not make class go faster. If you please, begin reading from page seventy-seven so that the rest of the class can hear you..."

The minutes dragged by, and Harry found it very hard to keep his eyes focused on page seventy-seven and not his watch. It was so very tempting... Class continued, though, and Malfoy's voice droned on from the back of the classroom (normally, Harry would have thought it fantastic that Fletcher had made the stuck-up Slytherin read because Malfoy was being obnoxious) and Harry hardly cared for a word that he was saying. It wasn't that he didn't like Transfiguration, because he did, but he was waiting for it to happen...Now!

The classroom exploded into song.

Red and green lights twinkled.

The chalkboard began flashing holiday greetings.

And little green and red elves began dancing everywhere.

The elves were on the shelves. They were on the desks. They were hanging from the ceiling. They were on the floor, and they gleefully bounced around in the window frames. Now, they weren't house elves. Rather, they were a simpler breed, more like something out of a strange Muggle Christmas story about a fat man who lived at the North Pole--but they were recognizable enough as elves. Dressed in red and white jumpers with green skin (and bright gold hair), the elves replaced textbooks, chalk, erasers, plants, and everything else in sight--and they were singing. Very merrily, in fact, with great Christmas joy...but each was singing a different song, and they were belting them out at the top of their lungs. They sounded, Harry thought, much like drunken leprechauns.

Not that he'd ever met a leprechaun, but it was the thought that counted.

Most importantly, though, there were hundreds of the little monsters, and as they sang (very merrily, mind you), the elves began tearing around the room at breakneck speeds. Very carelessly, they upended tables, chairs, books, bags, and even ran up the legs of a few disgruntled Slytherins, who screeched until the elves merrily bounced away, unoffended by Salazar's protégés' miserable senses of humor. Four of the bravest elves grabbed the bottom edge of Professor Fletcher's robes, creating an impromptu marry-go-round with the ex-Auror in the center--until a roared spell from Fletcher sent the elves flying. Again, they jumped up, happy enough to find a new target. They were, after all, quite simple creatures, created only to create mayhem. But even the transfiguration professor's shouting was hard to hear over the Gryffindor's merry laughter.

Still, though, Mundungus Fletcher wasn't exactly the quietest of gentlemen, even at the best of times.

"WEASLEY! POTTER! GRANGER!" Nor, unfortunately, was he stupid. "GET OVER HERE! "NOW!"

There really weren't many options. They could run--Harry momentarily visualized himself, Ron, and Hermione ducking through the halls, chased by an irate Professor Fletcher--but they couldn't hide. There was no way that the trio could avoid their own head of house until the Hogwarts Express left the next morning, and even the Christmas Holidays weren't long enough to make Fletcher forget. No, they had to own up eventually--so they might as well do it now, and with pride.

Exchanging quick glances, Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached the professor, pausing to sidestep a few elves that were doing the two-step to a rather peppy version of "Silent Night."

"Yes, Professor?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Make. These. Go. Away." If Fletcher had been any redder, his face would have been a volcano. But was that laughter that he was holding back? "Now."

"We can't," Ron replied honestly.

"What?" No, it couldn't be laughter. Fletcher didn't have a sense of humor... But his pale green eyes were dancing, weren't they?

Hermione responded earnestly. "You see, Professor, the spell works on a time delay. We can't make the elves go away...but they will."

"Eventually," Harry added under his breath, but regretted it the moment that his professor's gaze focused on him. The elves were still singing. The closest quartet was now working on "It's a Small World."

"What was that, Potter?" Fletcher demanded.

"Uhh... Nothing, sir."

One blonde eyebrow arched menacingly. Still, there was something in those eyes...and there was now a group of elves dancing on top of Professor Fletcher's desk, singing "Jingle Bells." Yet the ex-Auror was still studying the trio. "Indeed."

The bell rang.

Every student with a shred of common sense bolted from the transfiguration classroom. Some--most--were laughing, but others (the Slytherins, of course) were vowing revenge. Harry heard a few interesting words out of Malfoy that he was sure Draco's mother wouldn't appreciate him using as the trio followed the others out of the classroom. Surprisingly enough, Fletcher didn't call after them, or bellow anything about detentions, but they weren't about to question the good luck. Perhaps Christmas cheer struck even the grumpy of the Hogwarts' professors...

A six-legged and six-armed blur rushed by them, with hair that was two-thirds red in color and one-third black.

"WEASLEY! JORDAN! WEASLEY!" a voice roared from down the hallway. "GET BACK HERE!"

It was Snape's voice, and he didn't exactly sound cheerful.

Without a backward glance, Harry, Ron, and Hermione shot after their fellow mischief-makers. It was going to be an interesting holiday.

------------

"Mum! Dad!"

Arthur and Molly Weasley looked up from their game of Wizard's chess, surprised to see Ron unearthed from his pile of Christmas presents. It was December 28, after all, and weeks usually passed before their youngest son could be torn away from his newest toys and games. The same held true for the other Weasley children--even Bill, who, Auror or not, delighted in Christmas (even if he'd left the day before to prepare for some mission or another) would spend days reveling in Christmas gifts and his younger siblings' toys. Last Molly had known, Ron had been buried underneath a stack of Chocolate Frog Cards (sent by his friend Hermione) and a newly-published book, Flying With the Cannons (a present from his friend Harry, who had somehow managed to obtain a copy signed by beater Joey Jenkins). Ron hadn't let go of the book since he'd unwrapped it, and Molly was glad to see that he was so happy. Less promising was the crate of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks that the twins had received from their friend Lee (who had sent Ron a set of Gobstones, too), or the book Fred had received from Ron's friend Hermione, Saucey Tricks for Tricky Sorts. She'd also sent George a Muggle joke set, which Molly had been tempted to confiscate. She could only guess how much trouble they could get into with that.

But it was good to see that her children were enjoying themselves so much. Ron's friend Harry had sent the twins a gift certificate to Gambol and Japes, too--it seemed that Ron's friends were sending the twins gifts and vice versa. Molly hadn't ever expected her youngest to fall into Fred and George's circle of friends, but it certainly seemed that he had, for which she was very glad. In times like this, it paid to keep one's friends close.

And enemies closer, too, come to think of it.

"Yes, dear?" she asked with a smile. If Ron had come running into the kitchen, it had to be good. Besides, Arthur was winning.

"I just got a fire call from Harry, Mum," Ron replied, grinning.

"And?" she prompted. Ever since Ron had gotten off of the train, all he'd talked about was his new friends and all the fun they'd had...but Molly still knew almost nothing about the two. She knew, of course, that Hermione was Muggleborn (Ron had made some choice comments about the Malfoy boy, who seemed to delight in picking on the poor girl), and she knew that Harry was on the Quidditch team already, but other than that, it had been one long string of "you'll never believe what we did!" or "Harry's got the best broom!" and "the look on Malfoy's face was so priceless!" The fun she had heard about; the friends she had not.

"Well...uh..." Suddenly, Ron's smile wavered, and he seemed hesitant. "Harry's parents want to know if we can go over to their house for New Year."

Molly looked at Arthur in surprise. He stared back. Surely they had heard wrong. "All of us, dear?"

"Yeah." Suddenly, the words poured out, as if Ron was afraid they'd say no. "Harry said that they were thinking about having a party, and his parents said that he could invite whoever he wanted and so he wanted to invite me and Hermione and his mum and dad said that he ought to invite our parents, too, because none of us you have met. Hermione's already said yes--he called her on the fellyphone--can we go too?"

Molly blinked. For some reason, Ron seemed sure that they would say no. Arthur, always the sensible one, asked, "What about Percy, Ginny, and the twins?"

"Oh! Fred and George know about it--they were there when Harry called. And he said that Percy can come too, even though he's a Prefect. And Ginny, 'cause she's our sister."

"Ron!" Molly admonished him. The younger boys were always making fun of their older brother because he was a prefect, and she would never understand why.

"Sorry, Mum," he replied too quickly. "Can we go? Please?"

"Ron, are sure Harry's parents know about this?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah, of course they do!" Ron said. "Harry wouldn't ask, otherwise."

Molly looked closely at her younger son. Something was up. "What aren't you telling us?"

Ron went red. "Ummm..."

"Ron...?"

"It's nothing, really, Mum. Really."

But alarms were ringing in Molly's head. "I want to talk to Harry's parents about this. What did you say his last name was?"

"Uh..." Ron mumbled something under his breath.

"Well?" Arthur demanded, clearly sharing her suspicions that something was wrong. What were they planning this time?

Ron sighed. "Potter."

"What?" The word escaped before Molly could stop it. Surely he wasn't talking about... "As in James Potter?"

"Yes, Mum. As in James Potter," Ron replied sullenly. But Molly didn't have the energy to correct his sarcasm, and besides, Arthur was replying.

"Why didn't you tell us this before, Ron?" her husband asked sternly.

"Because I knew you'd react like this!" Ron snapped, suddenly angry. Molly sighed quietly; she hated to see him unhappy, but this was important. Couldn't Ron see that? Obviously he couldn't, though, because her son forestalled Arthur's answer. "What does it matter? Harry is my friend!"

"Ron, I don't think you understand," Arthur replied quietly, and Molly silently blessed him for his patience. "I know that things are different at Hogwarts, but the Wizarding world has certain...divisions. The Potters are one of the Fourteen Families. They are not going to socialize with people like us."

"They're not like that," Ron objected.

"You don't know Harry's parents," Molly tried to reason, but her son exploded angrily.

"I know Harry, Mum, and he's not like that! He doesn't care--why should we? And they asked Hermione over, too, and her parents are Muggles! It doesn't matter!"

I wish the world were really that simple, she thought to herself. Or that fair. And I wish that my son didn't have to learn that it isn't at such a young age. The anger on Ron's face made her want to cry. He really did not understand...

"Unfortunately, it does matter--" Arthur began, only to be cut off.

"Why?" their youngest son demanded. "You work at the Ministry. So do Harry's parents. What is the difference?"

"Ron, James Potter is one of the most famous wizards of this age," Arthur explained quietly. "And the Potter family is--"

"Rich, I know. So?" Ron snorted. "And Harry is the descendant of Godric Gryffindor. Who cares?"

Molly gaped. So it was true... Oh, dear. But before she could reply, Fred and George came boiling into the room.

"Dad, Ron's right--" Fred started.

"Harry isn't like that, Mum--" George contributed.

"And I bet his parents aren't either," Fred finished.

"Won't you just talk to them?" Ron demanded.

Molly exchanged a helpless look with her husband. What could they do when faced with three of their boys, all united in one cause? Even little Ginny was hanging onto the doorframe, waiting to see what would happen. She sighed once more, and shrugged. What could it hurt?

"I suppose we can do that," Arthur finally replied.

The boys exchanged triumphant glances, but it wasn't over yet. Molly looked sternly at the trio--and at Ginny, who was unsuccessfully trying to fade into the background. "Why don't you four go outside while your father and I deal with this?"

For once, they did not argue, and within seconds, the youngest half of her brood was flying out the front door. Percy, of course, was behaving very nicely in his room, immersed in a good book, no doubt. Too bad the others weren't more like him...

------------

"How in world do you deal with six of them?" Lily asked her with a smile. "I have my hands full between only James and Harry."

Molly chuckled at the younger woman's amazement. Despite her earlier misgivings, the Potters were very likable people, and even if the enormous house at Godric's Hollow could make her uncomfortable, Mrs. Weasley was rapidly discovering that her youngest son did indeed have good taste in friends.

At the moment, all the children were in the Potters' spacious living room, eagerly examining Peter Pettigrew's new puppy. Somehow--Molly was still not quite sure how--the puppy (strangely enough, named Joe) had been left with James and Lily when Pettigrew had departed for Brazil. She didn't know Pettigrew well, but Arthur, who knew him from work, said he was a nice enough fellow. At any rate, she gathered that he was an old friend of the Potters'--looking at the puppy, she decided that he had to be. Leaving that rambunctious bundle of energy with anyone other than close friends would be akin to courting disaster! Harry had said something about Pettigrew having acquired it in America, and the puppy being a Siberian Husky, but all Molly knew was that the dog was a black and white ball of child-loving enthusiasm. She chuckled.

"I don't know, really," Molly replied. "Often they occupy one another."

"I bet," Lily laughed. "I could say the same about James and Harry, especially when it comes to Quidditch. Sometimes, I swear that I'm the only adult in the house."

"I know that feeling," she said with relish. "With all his gadgets, Arthur can be the same way."

Lily smiled. "No wonder why they're getting along so well!"

And indeed their husbands were. Once discovering that James had a "tellyphone" in his office (Lily, Molly had learned, was Muggle-born), Arthur had been delighted. James, who Lily claimed still saw the phone as a toy, had only been too eager to comply, so off they had gone ten minutes before, leaving the two women in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Percy was engaging in a technical discussion about Magical medicine with the Grangers, who had been rather uncomfortable in a Wizarding home at first, but had managed to relax after a few drinks, due mainly to the Potters' easy-going attitudes. These days, it was hard to find people who were as open minded as Lily and James, especially amongst the oldest and richest families in the magical world. Then again, James had married a Muggle-born witch, and to Molly, that said a lot.

Suddenly, she became aware that she had been silent for too long, and Lily was watching her with uncanny green eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Molly replied lightly, shaking her thoughts away. "I was just thinking how nice it is for Ron to have such good friends."

"And you were thinking that we aren't what you expected us to be," Lily finished gently.

Molly blushed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Maybe not to some," the other said quietly. "But I have found that there are three types of people in the magical world: those who act, those who do not, and those too frightened to do either."

There was something different about Lily's voice, and Molly found it hard to meet those piercing eyes, now. Something had changed. "What are you saying?"

"Tell me, Molly, what do you know about the Order of the Phoenix?"

------------

"Have you ever heard of the Order of the Phoenix, Arthur?"

The question made Arthur Weasley's head jerk up in surprise. One moment, he and James had been discussing the oddities of Muggle technology--about which, Arthur had discovered, James knew much more than he--and the next moment, the Auror's voice had become serious. Startled, the older man looked up at his companion's now solemn face, and wondered what had brought the question about.

"Pardon?"

"The Order of the Phoenix." James nodded towards a copy of the Daily Prophet, which lay folded neatly on the desktop. Arthur had read it that morning, of course, but his eyes flirted over the front-page story once more as he wondered if this was only an idle question. However, he read the article again, more out of curiosity than anything else.

'ORDER OF THE PHOENIX' - REVEALED!

by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent

For years there have been rumors of a top-secret organization constructed to

battle the forces of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but never before has anyone

been able to verify if such an organization exists. Now, however, there is concrete

proof that the "Order of the Phoenix" is indeed real, and what's more, this reporter

has details about the purpose and members of this group of witches and wizards.

As many surmised, the so-called "Order" was formed to fight You-Know-Who.

Records are sketchy, but it seems that the Order has been in existence since

before You-Know-Who's seizure of Azkaban Prison in1986. Although the Ministry

adamantly denies it, sources imply that the Order's influence was what kept the

Ministry on its feet following the murders of Minister Trimble and his first two

successors. Apparently, the Order of the Phoenix has also been working hand-

in-hand with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for years to counter

the Dark Lord's threats.

This is possible because, as reliable sources tell us, James Potter (Head of the

DMLE's Auror Division) is a prominent member of the Order, possibly even its

second-in-command. Oddly enough, Minister Arabella Figg is supposedly not

a member of this select few, which might account for the friction lately apparent

between the Head of Magical Law Enforcement and her supposed protégée.

Perhaps the most compelling reason for cooperation between the Ministry

and this Order is the identity of the head of the Order of the Phoenix.

Unconfirmed sources tell us that none other than Bartemius Crouch, the

Deputy Minister of Magic, is the leader of the Order, and it is his vision and

perseverance that has kept the Order alive during these dark years.

Another highly secret part of the Order is the so-called "Unicorn Group,"

which is supposedly an elite research group, aimed at discovering new

magic. The Unicorn Group is supposedly concentrating on a "Project

Hairball," the purpose of which is not currently known.

One project which occupies much of the Order's time, however, is an attempt

to breech the defenses of Azkaban and wrench the prison out of the Dark

Lord's hands. The status of this project is not known, but rumors hint that

a crucial part of the plan was recently foiled by unwitting Ministry members

who are not privy to the Order's secrets.

It remains to be seen if such disasters will happen in the future, or if the

Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix will learn to work more closely together--

provided that the two are fighting for the same goals, after all.

Arthur frowned, and glanced up at Potter once more. "Why are you asking me that?" he wondered. Then he sighed. "Is it because you haven't? Is Skeeter making up stories out of hot air again?"

"Well, no--and yes," James snorted. "She has a remarkable talent for getting the facts wrong, doesn't she?"

"Definitely." Several past articles came to mind, but Arthur pushed those thoughts aside as James held up the paper.

"This," he said, "is mostly a load of trash. Mostly."

"What do you mean?"

"I will explain that to you, Arthur, if you would please answer my question first," James said quietly. "What do you know about the Order of the Phoenix?"

Arthur shrugged. "I've never put much stock in rumors," he admitted. "I know it exists, and that some members of the Ministry are definitely involved in it, but other than that..." He shrugged again. "For all I know, the article could be telling the truth."

"Not exactly," the other chuckled. "But Skeeter is right about one thing: the Order does exist. For that matter, so does the Unicorn Group. And we are trying to get into Azkaban. Aside from that, this article is absolute nonsense."

"We?" Arthur hadn't missed that pronoun.

"Yes. I am a member of the Order--I have been for quite some time, in fact. But the reason why I am telling you this, Arthur, is because we would like you to join us."

Arthur felt as if something heavy had just been dropped on top of his head. He had spent an entire career at the Ministry being passed over and ignored, mainly because of prejudices evident in his department... He frowned. "Me? Why?"

"You and I both know that Addams is on his way out," the Auror replied. "There are several people poised to replace him, and you are amongst them. In our estimation, you are most likely to get the position, and the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office would be an asset to our cause. Your office deals with a great deal of Dark objects, and we feel that it would be much easier to work with you than try and work around you."

"Who is 'we'?" Arthur had to ask. He'd learned a long time ago not to simply jump in the water without checking how deep it was first.

"I can't tell you that, yet."

"Then how do you know I'll get the job?" he pressed. "I've been quite sure that Perkins is going to get it."

Potter smiled ever so slightly. "I can't tell you that, either," he replied quietly. "Unfortunately, this isn't a proposal that you can take home with you, Arthur. I can't give you time to think it over. It all comes down to if you want to see Voldemort go down or not, and what kind of world you want to have left when it's done."

------------

Molly still wasn't quite sure what to think. In few short moments, Lily Potter had confirmed the fact that the rumored Order of the Phoenix did indeed exist, and had invited her to join it--then had promptly gone on to describe the Unicorn Group, which Molly was soon to be a member of. The Unicorn Group was apparently a sub-section of the Order, which was working on dozens of projects under Lily's direction, including everything from a Reverse Imperius Curse to a way to kill Dementors. Lily had also informed Molly that James had made the same offer to Arthur--and by the semi-bewildered look on her husband's face as they entered the Auror's office, Molly knew that Arthur had accepted.

She smiled helplessly in Arthur's direction. It wasn't that she was regretting her choice; it was just that everything was happening so fast. Molly felt like someone had sent her through a Muggle blender and forgot to turn the machine off afterwards. Be that how it may, though, she didn't miss the significant look exchanged between the Potters, and the slight nod Lily gave her husband in reply to an unspoken question. James turned to Molly with a smile.

"Glad to have you with us," he said.

"Thank you...I think." Next to her, Arthur shrugged, and Molly knew he was feeling the same way.

James chuckled, but Lily replied seriously. "Don't thank us, Molly. We all do what we're needed to do."

"Indeed," Arthur said quietly, and Molly nodded, watching James throw a handful of glittering powder into the nearby fireplace.

"Albus?"

The Minister of Magic's head appeared in the office fireplace, much to Molly's surprise. When Lily had said that they were going to Fire Call someone, she had never expected Dumbledore.

"Hello, James, Lily," the old wizard smiled. "Ah! Arthur and Molly as well. I'm very delighted to see you both." His blue eyes turned back to James. "I suppose they said yes?"

Potter nodded.

"Excellent!" The ancient blue eyes twinkled with energy. "I shall have to speak with you in the future, then, Arthur, but I suspect Lily will bring you up to speed, Molly. For the time being, though, do either of you have any questions for me?"

Briefly, Molly considered asking if Dumbledore was the head of the Order, but there was no reason to. Obviously, that darn Skeeter woman had mixed up her facts again. It certainly wasn't the first time. She shook her head, but Arthur spoke.

"Is there anything that we should do now?" he asked.

"Do?" Dumbledore asked. "My dear boy, you have done quite enough for now. In the future, I shall have to ask more, but for now all I ask is that you loan me your trust. I will have to earn it, later, but for now, I simply ask for patience and time. I will be in touch."

Just as suddenly as he'd appeared, Albus Dumbledore was gone. Molly watched the flames for a moment longer, thinking briefly how the world could look so different when you only say it through another light. With Dumbledore at the helm of the Order of the Phoenix, suddenly it seemed that there was hope after all...and maybe, someday, her children could grow up in a world without fear.