Dumbledore's Secret

Chapter 23

Although Molly Weasley would never claim that Order meetings were one of her favorite activities, the gatherings did have the beneficial side effect of bringing together her family. Red heads filled the first two rows of chairs in the Grimmauld Place kitchen. Arthur and Bill were, as usual, looking quite serious as they talked about goodness knows what. Behind them, Fred and George were whispering, occasionally smiling such roguish smiles that, if Molly hadn't been their mother, she might have been fooled into thinking they were simply having a bit of fun. And then there was Charlie, his legs stretched out in front of him, staring into space. "Charlie," she said, coming to sit beside him. "Still back in Romania?"

His lips formed a quiet, almost shy smile that reminded her so much of Arthur when he was twenty-five. "I am going through a bit of dragon withdrawal."

"It's only been a couple of hours!" Molly exclaimed. "You need to spend less time with dragons and more time with humans. Particularly female humans."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Not this again." Glancing over his shoulder, he said, "Fred, George some back up here?"

"Huh?" Fred looked up from the parchment in his hands. "Sorry, Charlie, a bit busy."

"Yep, we've got this new..." George began.

"Shut it, man!" Fred said, elbowing his twin. "Don't ruin the surprise!" Then he winked at his older brother and mother. "You'll see soon enough."

Charlie shrugged and said to Molly, "I see plenty of humans as it is. Females included." Then he smiled. "Besides, you don't want another foreign daughter-in-law, do you?" He tilted his head toward Bill. "Fleur isn't enough for you?"

Molly nearly squealed. "I was so happy when Bill and Fleur told me the news! Ah, it's so lovely, especially in times like this..."

"So, shouldn't you be satisfied with one engagement?" Charlie asked with a laugh.

"No, it only encourages me to push you a bit harder!"

"Oh, good god," he said, but without any malice. Then he glanced at his watch. "You don't think something's wrong, do you?"

"It wouldn't be an Order meeting if we didn't start at least fifteen minutes late," Minerva said, coming up to the two of them with a smile. "Charlie, it's good to see you."

Charlie stood up and shook the hand of his former head of house. "And you, Professor. How have you been?"

"Please, drop the professor," she said, sitting down in the chair on the other side of him. "You've been out of school for ... what, seven or eight years now!" She sighed. "I am getting old."

"Don't say that!" Molly said with a laugh. "You'll make me feel old, too. Indeed, when Bill and Fleur told me their news... have I told you, Minerva, that Bill and Fleur are engaged?"

"I believe I have heard that news," Minerva said with a smile.

"Some three or four times, no doubt," Charlie muttered.

Molly huffed. "Well, I only want to spread some cheer. Tell me, Minerva, how was Turkey? I've heard the cuisine there is..." She stopped speaking when she spotted Severus entering the kitchen. After he had swept past them, Molly leaned over Charlie and whispered to Minerva, "I have to tell you, I'm rather worried about Charlotte. Just a few minutes ago..."

Minerva pursed her lips. "I'm sure Charlotte can handle herself, Molly."

Molly sighed. "I know, Minerva, that you think I'm a terrible gossip..."

Charlie snorted, and Molly shot her son an annoyed glance. "...but I really do care for the girl and ..." Molly stopped again when she saw Charlotte come into the room. The young woman's face was splotchy, and she looked distinctly uncomfortable as she glanced around the kitchen.

Molly hurried over to her. "Dear! I have you a seat for you right here," she said with a sympathetic pat on the younger woman's hand. "Indeed, I don't think you've met my son, Charlie!"

Without waiting for a response, Molly pulled her toward her family. "Charlie, this is Charlotte, Albus's granddaughter."

Charlotte and Charlie exchanged wan smiles, and neither would meet the other's eye. Molly's heart leapt; they were so similar! "Dear," she said to Charlotte, "why don't you sit here?" She pointed to her seat beside Charlie. "I have to talk to Arthur about something. Charlie, tell Charlotte about Romania. She mentioned to me how she'd love to see more of the world."

Molly disregarded the irritated glances she received from Charlie, Charlotte, and Minerva as she took her seat beside Arthur.

"You're not very subtle, do you know that, Molly?" he asked, glancing at Charlie and Charlotte, who were now conversing somewhat awkwardly.

Molly smiled. "It'll be good for both of them. Now, what are you two conspiring about?"

Bill snorted. "I think conspiring is more applicable to what you're doing, Mum. Dad and I were just discussing the possibility of another press conference."

"Another press conference? Is that really wise? I think you should go directly to the people, start giving speeches..."

Before she could finish giving her advice, however, Albus entered and immediately called the group to order.

"Thank you all for attending this evening," he began. He looked tired, which Molly no longer found surprising, considering the things he'd been through in the past year. But he also appeared ...depressed, and that word did not seem very applicable to the great Albus Dumbledore.

"I'd like to begin the meeting by extending my thanks and support to Tonks and Kingsley, especially you, Kingsley. You put your lives on the line for the Order and for those by-standers in that café who will never realize exactly how dangerous a situation they faced. Thank you."

Arthur said, "Hear, hear!" And his exclamation was followed by several other shouts of encouragement.

"Tonks," Albus said, "has already given me her report of what happened in Germany, but Kingsley, as you've been in St. Mungo's, and I've been out of the country, we still need your version of events."

After several moments of silence, Molly, like most everyone else in the room, turned and looked at Kingsley. He was staring at his feet.

"Kingsley..." Albus asked, his voice full of concern.

The Auror looked up, and for a moment, Molly caught his eye. She smiled, and he immediately looked back down at his feet.

"I, uh, I'd rather not."

"You'd rather not?" Elphias Doge asked. "What's that, you say?"

"Uh, at the end of the meeting," Kingsley mumbled.

Albus said nothing for a minute. Then he nodded. "Very well. We have plenty of other items to discuss first. Indeed, perhaps too much for this one meeting. So, as our first order of business, I'd like to suggest that we move to bi-weekly meetings from here on out."

For several minutes, the group broke into disorganized discussion, with several members arguing for regular meeting times, and several others, Mad Eye especially, pushing for spur-of-the-moment gatherings. "It will look extremely suspicious if we all go missing on Sundays and Thursdays!" he declared, and with some sense, Molly thought.

But then Bill pointed out that random meetings would hardly be easy. "We can't all just drop what we're doing."

"Well, in the first war," Emmeline pointed out, "we had random meetings, and it worked just fine. We weren't all at the meetings all the time, but then, we didn't always need to be, did we? Just enough so that we could report in and get a sense of things."

"I think the crux of the problem is communications," Molly said. "If we can't all attend, we need a way to communicate. Last time, we had the mirrors, but I never did like using them."

"Actually," Fred said, standing up, "that's what we wanted to talk about, communications. You see, George and I came up with something we thought might be useful."

"Well, wait," Hagrid interjected. "We haven't decided on the meetings."

"Yes, we'll decide on that in a moment," Albus cut in. "Go on, Fred, Geroge, I'm anxious to see what you have."

"Well," George said, standing beside his twin. "As Mum pointed out, the two-way mirrors were the usual means of communicating between the Order last time. However, those are expensive ..."

"...not to mention impractical," Fred cut in. "I mean, how easy is it to explain why you're talking into a mirror if you're in a public place?"

"Yeah, especially when some of us -" George glanced at the back of the room -"never bother looking into mirrors?"

"Very funny, Weasley," Severus muttered.

George bowed in Severus's direction before continuing. "Then of course there's the phoenix call."

"But," Fred said, "it's difficult magic, at least for those us who aren't Albus Dumbledore. Not to mention the fact that not all of the members, especially those in the sleeper units, know the spell."

Molly's eyes widened. She wondered when Fred and George had learned so much about the inner workings of the Order. She had only found out about the so-called "sleeper" units at the start of the second war when she'd been asked to serve as a contact for members like Poppy Pomfrey and Abeforth Dumbledore, those who were committed to bringing down You-Know-Who, but for one reason or another, were not part of the core group.

Mundungus chortled. "I'd like to see Figgie shootin' a phoenix out of her wand!"

"Arabella can't help it if she's a Squib," Molly said, shooting him a dirty look.

"Didn't say nothin' bad about squibs," he retorted.

"In any case," George cut in, "the phoenix call, like the mirror, is not very practical. It's great for emergencies, but in other cases ..." He shrugged.

"So," Fred said, "we've developed what we hope will be a useful means of communication for important, but not urgent or extremely confidential, information. Ta da!" He raised a small, leather-bound journal in his hands.

"It's not terribly original," George said apologetically.

"Yeah, don't tell Ginny," Fred said, glancing anxiously at Molly, "but we, uh, sort of got the idea from her. And Voldemort. You know, Tom Riddle's journal."

The room buzzed with whispered asides until Albus held up his hands and said, "Please, George, Fred, explain to us exactly what that is."

"Okay," George said, taking a deep breath. "First of all, there's no dark magic involved, so you can all stop blabbering about that. It's quite simple, really. We figured that everyone writes." He glanced at Mundungus. "You do write, don't you, Dung?"

"Ha, ha."

"And since everyone writes," Fred said, "it's not going to look suspicious if you're sitting at a café or at work or in your classroom or most anywhere else writing in a journal."

"Of course," George said, "what's different about these journals is that they're all interconnected."

"So, if I take out my quill and begin writing," Fred continued, "it'll show up in everyone else's journal."

"So, they're just pen pal journals, but on a bigger scale," Bill said. "No offense, mates, but that's already been done. And what if the journal gets picked up or is lost? All the Order's messages..."

"Really, Bill, give us some credit, will you?" George said. "I already said that it's not very original. We've just made some important modifications."

"Here's what you do," Fred said. "You start writing whatever you'd normally write in such a book. So, Bill, you'd draw little hearts with Fleur's name inside, Charlie, you might sketch a dragon, Tonks, you'd write love letters to Remus, whatever."

"Then," George said, "you activate the journal by pressing your thumb on the first available blank page. Once you've done that, you'll be able to read and write Order messages."

"Why your thumb?" Dedalus Diggle asked.

"We've been going to muggle movies in our spare time," Fred said. "Got the idea from them. Everyone's thumbprint is unique, right? So, when we first give you the book, we'll charm it to recognize only your thumbprint. Anyone else who happens to look at the journal will only see replicas of your initial entries. So, Hagrid, if you started off with a journal entry that went something like, I love dangerous creatures, particularly big, ugly spiders, then the book would fill up with entries that are similar, but not the same. So, maybe the next entry would, to a casual observer, say something like, Blast-Ended Skrewts make the best pets ever! But Order members will see whatever real message you wrote to them."

"Of course," George admitted, "it's not fool-proof. If someone cuts off your thumb..."

"...or forces you to place your thumbprint on the first available blank page..." Fred said.

"...then we're royally screwed."

"Language!" Molly scolded George, though she couldn't contain her proud smile. Her sons were brilliant! Of course, she'd always known that, but it was nice to see that brilliance applied to something other than pranks.

"Everyone's journal will look different," Fred continued. "Ideally, it will look like something you'd be expected to have with you. So, if you're not the journal type person, we'll charm a book that looks more like an account ledger or a day calendar or something of that nature."

"And," George said, "if you do happen to lose the journal or it gets stolen, inform someone in the Order immediately. We think our safeguards are pretty good, but they're really only meant to keep wandering eyes from seeing the messages. If someone wanted to use powerful enough magic on the book, our charms wouldn't hold up. But, so long as we have one of the books, Fred or I can erase all messages, making the lost book useless. In any case, we're hoping the books will look so innocuous that no one will think they're important enough to steal."

Fred looked nervously at Albus. "So, what do you think?"

Albus smiled. "Brilliant," he said, echoing Molly's sentiments.

The twins grinned.

"Can you have the books at the next meeting?" Albus asked them.

"Sure," George said.

"Very good," Albus said, looking pleased.

The meeting continued rather smoothly, for an Order meeting, that is. It only took them a half hour to agree, finally, on random meetings with bi-monthly set meetings as a compromise. Then Arthur reported on his campaign, despairing over his press conference, though Tonks claimed it was the best political speech she'd ever heard. Bill discussed his work with the goblins - "Very slow going, no real progress" - and disappointed Molly by failing to announce his engagement to Fleur. Charlie said that he'd made several new contacts in Romania, and when Albus asked to speak to Charlie in private after the meeting, Molly glowed with pride at the thought that her family was contributing so much to downfall of Voldemort. When Molly's thoughts turned briefly to Percy - as they invariably did in the presence of any of her sons - she assured herself that by Christmas, he'd also be contributing to the Order. He just needed a little more time to come to his senses.

Molly listened with great interest when Severus mentioned his suspicions regarding Charlotte's house elf Lupa. Emmeline had laughed - "A house elf agent? That would rather go against your lord's pureblood philosophy, wouldn't it now?" - but Mad-Eye had agreed that there might be something quite sinister about Lupa. Molly wondered if this represented the one and only time in Mad-Eye's paranoid life that he'd agree with an ex-Death Eater on anything.

"There's also the issue of the Blood Prophecy," Severus said, going on to explain what he'd heard in Charlotte's memory of her horrific time with Voldemort. No one, it seemed, knew anything about another prophecy, something Molly found disconcerting, though not unexpected.

"And as we have very little pull at the ministry," Hestia Jones said with a sigh, "it's unlikely we'll get access to the Prophecy Room. We really need to recruit someone in the Department of Mysteries."

"Actually," Mad Eye said, slowly getting to his feet, "we need to recruit some new Aurors, as well."

Albus looked at Mad Eye with concern. "What do you mean, Alastor?"

"I mean, today I was demoted. I'm no longer chief."

Molly gasped. She turned to Arthur, who was already whispering something to Bill, and said, "Oh, this is terrible!"

"Please, order," Albus said wearily. "Demoted, Alastor?"

"Demoted," the old Auror agreed. "Well, practically sacked, really. I've no more power or influence than a common rookie. And of course you've already heard that Tonks and Shacklebolt have been suspended for three weeks."

"And," Tonks added with a tremulous voice, "I've been reassigned when I come back. I'm no longer an investigator."

"Reassigned?" Kingsley asked in surprise.

She nodded. "I didn't want to tell you before ..." She looked at Remus. "I've been put on the Dangerous Creatures squad. I have to..." She stopped and looked away.

Molly had to stop herself from rushing over to Tonks and throwing her arms about the poor girl. Remus, his head hanging, looked equally miserable.

"Bloody hell," Kingsley grumbled. "This is madness."

"I'm guessing," Mad Eye said to Emmeline, "that you were told a similar thing this afternoon? My heart nearly broke when I saw that Ogden had called you in, as well."

"All our Aurors, neutralized," Albus murmured.

"Actually," Emmeline said, standing up, "I was neither suspended nor reassigned." She looked at Mad Eye. "Your shoes will be difficult to fill, Alastor."

Mad Eye gaped for a moment, then clapped his hands together and laughed. "Fantastic! He doesn't bloody know, does he? He doesn't even suspect! This is a miracle!"

"You're chief now?" Arthur asked.

Emmeline nodded. "Though I'd hardly call it a miracle, Alastor."

"Well, no, I didn't mean..."

"After all," Emmeline continued, "I have been an Auror for quite some time, and, unlike some others of us -" She looked pointedly at Kingsley and Tonks - "I know how to be discreet."

Kingsley nearly jumped out of his seat, but Tonks put a restraining hand on his arm.

"In any case," Mad Eye said, somewhat uncertainly, "we'll still be able to keep an eye on Ogden, and that's what matters."

Emmeline's cheeks colored. "I don't think that's what matters at all. Have we forgotten that Minister Ogden is on our side?"

"Our side?" Remus asked, not bothering to conceal his bitterness. "Our side? He's not on my side, I can tell you that."

"Well, Lupin, I'm terribly sorry for your inconvenience..." Emmeline said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Inconvenience? Is that what you think this is?" he said, jumping up and pointing to the red mark that had reappeared on his robes. "How would you like to have something very close to dark magic burned into your chest, Emmeline? How would you like to be humiliated, day after day after day..."

"Look," Emmeline interrupted. "It's terrible, okay. And I hope someday, when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is finally defeated, you can look at that scar and think of it as a war wound."

"I don't fucking believe this," he said.

"But," she continued, "in the meantime..."

"In the meantime, your so-called Minister has just alienated every possible werewolf ally!" Remus cut in. "Ogden might as well have declared war on us! Not only has he branded us like cattle, but he's restricting us to our homes for an entire week out of every month! How are supposed to work? How are we supposed to live?" Remus looked at Albus. "I don't even know if I can teach, if the regulations stipulate I have to stay away from the children during that week..."

Albus said tiredly, "You will be our defense professor, Remus, I promise you that. Emmeline, I think you have to realize that there are serious disagreements that most everyone in this room has with Tiberius Ogden..."

"Perhaps so!" Emmeline said. "But we have one extremely serious point of agreement. Ogden is not You-Know-Who! He's against him, just like we are. The way we're talking, it's as if the Ministry officials are our enemies. They're not! They're our allies. I'm sorry, Lupin, but the chance of any sort of werewolf alliance was small to begin with, nothing like the possibility of working with the Ministry. And now we have our chance! For Merlin's sake, we're wasting time here! We're fighting the wrong war!"

"You think," Arthur said quietly, "that I shouldn't be running for Minister, then."

Emmeline looked Arthur in the eye. "No, I don't. I think you're wasting yours and the Order's efforts."

"Really, Emmeline!" Molly protested. "Arthur..."

"Might someday make a fine Minister," she cut in. "But right now, we're wasting precious time. Just consider this evening! We've spent more time squabbling about meeting times and internal ministry politics than we have spent coming up with any sort of plan of attack! What, we're just going to wait around until another of us gets killed? This is no time for disunity, no time for dissent!"

"Emmeline, those are dangerous words," Albus cautioned. "Dissent is not the same thing as disunity. Dissent is an essential part of formulating a good strategy..."

"What's happened to you, Albus!" Emmeline cried.

The entire room fell silent, so silent that Molly could hear the blood pounding in her ears.

"You used to lead us," Emmeline said, her voice shaking. "And now, we just debate ourselves to death!"

Molly was almost afraid to look at Albus, but his face was oddly blank.

"Doesn't anyone in here realize that we're fighting for our lives?" Emmeline asked, looking around the room with pleading eyes. "Doesn't anyone here realize the stakes?"

"You dare to lecture Albus on the stakes?" Minerva demanded, shooting up out of her chair.

"Minerva..." Albus said quietly.

"No," Minerva said, "Let me have my say. How dare you criticize Albus after all he's done? Tell me, Emmeline, what would you have him do? What is your great solution?"

Emmeline lifted her chin. "For one thing, we'd finally recognize that the Ministry is not our enemy. This isn't about who has power in the Ministry. It isn't about social issues - no matter how they might affect our members. This is simply about war, and we have no choice but to win. And if we're going to win, we'd better reorganize."

"Reorganize the Order?" Hestia asked faintly. "How? What do you mean?'

"What I mean is that we need a more centralized leadership, more efficient meetings."

"You mean, you should be the leader!" Kingsley said.

Emmeline made a face. "No, Shacklbolt, as usual you've managed to miss my point completely." She looked back at Albus. "I would never question your greatness, Albus. I don't think there's a single person in this room who questions the fact that you are the greatest wizard of our time. You knew this during the first war. You led then. Now, you..."

"You place too much faith in me, then," Albus said wearily. "I cannot be an autocrat. I never was, not in the last war, and I cannot be one now. I cannot make these decisions alone. Emmeline, if you'll remember, in the last war, we acted as a group, we..."

"In the last war," she cut in, "we knew our places."

"Our places?" Bill asked. "What does that mean?"

"I mean, we understood that there were those with more wisdom and experience, and we let them lead us! We did what we were told. I did what I was told! I always did what you asked me, Albus. I lost..." She stopped and took a deep breath. "We should stop pretending that we're a society of equals. We're not. Maybe, in an ideal world, we could all have an equal say, we could debate and come to consensus - but not now, not while we're fighting to survive. Albus, your word should be law. These meetings should not be wasted on debate and discussion but instead should be efficient and orderly. The members should come to receive orders and report what we've found. That's it."

Nearly everyone began talking at once. Molly tried to tell Albus that she thought he was doing a fine job, but her voice was drowned out by so many others' comments.

And yet, despite the chaos, when Albus held up a hand, everyone fell immediately silent. "Emmeline, I cannot deny that there are things we could be doing better. And," he said with a heavy sigh, "there is great wisdom in what you say about our fights with the Ministry." That comment caused an uproar, but again, Albus raised a hand and silence reigned. "And yet, I feel I must point out that, if I ran the meetings in the way that you suggest, if I were to control everything you said and did as a member of this Order, Emmeline, you would never have been able to make such a suggestion."

"I wouldn't have needed to," she argued.

"No, but what if you'd had some other piece of advice? What if I closed my ears to everything but my own counsel? Some of the best ideas to come out of the Order have not been mine but have come from all of you. As messy and disorganized as these meetings seem, I have to think that there's some good to such an approach. Still," he conceded, "I think there is room for more structure."

"Perhaps committees of some kind," Hestia suggested quietly.

Albus nodded, but Emmeline scoffed. "Committees! We're not running a bake sale here. Why does no one understand that this is war?"

"So," Minerva said, her voice shaking with rage, "you would have Albus be a dictator? You'd have yourself and a few other chosen ones be his advisors, his inner circle? Sounds eerily familiar to me."

"Indeed," Severus said softly from the back of the room. "We should take it one step further and tattoo a phoenix on our arms to insure absolute obedience and order. I only request that the mark be placed on my right arm, as my left is currently occupied."

Emmeline's face burned bright red. "You would make light of being a Death Eater, would you?"

Severus crossed his arms and frowned. "No, Vance, on the contrary. I remember only too well what it was like have meetings in which I only received orders and gave my reports."

"You would dare to compare Albus to You-Know-Who?" Emmeline demanded.

"No, but you would have us all be puppets, and whether the puppet master is kind or cruel matters very little to me."

"Oh, listen to this, a lecture on power from a Death Eater. How fucking appropriate!"

"Emmeline..." Albus warned, his voice dangerously low. "That is enough."

"No, it's not!" she retorted, tears springing to her eyes. "Why do you insist on standing up for him? Why are my sacrifices less important than his mistakes?"

"Severus risked his life for the Order," Minerva interjected, "time and time again as a spy!"

"A lenient punishment for what he did, if you ask me!" Emmeline glared at Severus. "So what, you were a spy. And now, you've blown your cover. What good are you to us, anyway? Just a reminder of everything I despise..."

"Emmeline!" Albus roared.

She immediately stopped talking and stared, glassy-eyed, at the headmaster.

In a much quieter voice, Albus asked, "Do you wish to leave the Order, Emmeline?"

Molly nearly stopped breathing. No one ever left the Order, unless that traitor Pettigrew could be counted. For all of Emmeline's complaints, she was no traitor, but still, the things she could tell the Ministry... Molly wondered how Albus could even suggest such a thing; for Emmeline to leave, she'd have to undergo severe memory modification, and even then, the Order's secrets wouldn't be safe.

Emmeline shook her head desperately. "Do you want me to leave? Are you forcing me out?"

Albus strode to Emmeline and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Never, my dear. I am merely letting you know that this group has always been voluntary, that I would not force you to do something you thought was wrong. Nonetheless, there are sacrifices we have to make. All of us, all of us. You understand that, don't you?"

She nodded tearfully. "I am sorry, Albus, if I have offended you, but I really feel..."

"I know, I know," he soothed. "And I also know that I've taken you for granted. I promise that I will not do that again." Then he looked around the room. "We have so little that holds us together. No dark mark," he said, with a glance toward Severus. "No magical bond, not even a common philosophy. Only the desire to see an end to Riddle." He sighed. "I sometimes wonder if that's enough."

Several people protested, but Albus held up his hands. "Right now, we have three goals: protect Harry Potter, protect the innocent by-standers of this war, and find out as much as we possibly can about what Riddle and the Death Eaters are planning. This is a defensive struggle. This is not like the last war. We had the full support of the ministry that time, and we believed, at least until we discovered the prophecy, that if we went on the offensive, we could win. Our jobs seemed much clearer then, even if they were no easier to handle. This time ..." Albus's voice trailed off.

"This time," Severus said quietly, "everything rests on Potter."

Molly glanced back at him, expecting to see the usual bitterness on the potions master's face. But he looked only weary. Indeed, as she looked around the room, most everyone had a similar look of utter exhaustion on their faces, and Molly was sure that her own features were equally worn.

"Perhaps," Molly suggested quietly, "we should take a break for dinner."

Albus said, "Yes, a good suggestion. In fact, I'd like to suggest that, after we've heard Kingsley's report, we adjourn for the evening. It's been an arduous meeting. Kingsley?"

The Auror shook his head. "No, not in front of her," he said with an angry glance at Emmeline. "She'll run to Ogden with this, and this cannot..."

"How dare you!" Emmeline shrieked.

Molly put her head in her hands. "I don't know if I can take this," she muttered.

"Quiet, both of you," Albus ordered angrily. "Emmeline, sit down. Kingsley, you will tell us about what happened, and that's an order, do you understand? Emmeline is your partner in this. She deserves your trust."

Kingsley looked away. "I ..." When he looked up, he glanced at Molly. "I..."

"Was it that terrible?" Tonks asked quietly, putting an arm around him. "Kings, I'm so sorry, I left you, I ..."

Kingsley shook his head. "Tonks, you did the right thing." Then, taking a deep breath, he began to speak in a dull monotone. "Tonks and I met our contact in a muggle café, at the contact's request. We didn't realize, until after we'd met with him, that he was being followed. Four Death Eaters entered the establishment, and one stupefied our contact. Tonks got the muggles to safety. I confronted the four death eaters, two of whom I knew, two of whom I did not. The leader was Antonin Dolohov. He recognized me from the Department of Mysteries fight. I realized then that he must have just broken out of Azkaban. One of the death eaters found a muggle woman hiding behind some furniture. I managed to stupefy the death eater before he harmed the woman, and she was able to run to safety. In the shuffle, I was disarmed. I managed to use muggle combat against Dolohov and render him unconscious. But I failed to retrieve my wand, and so I was defenseless against the remaining two death eaters. They ..." Suddenly his voice broke, and he took several shallow breaths.

Molly raised a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out as blood began dripping from Kingsley's nose. He took a stained tissue out of his pocket and put it to his face. After several moments, he continued. "They appeared to be rookies, new recruits. They tried to cast the killing curse, but it failed, and so they used the Cruciatus and Cruento curses, knocking me unconscious. They must have figured I was near dead, and since they couldn't cast the killing curse..." He shrugged, such a vulnerable, weary gesture that Molly felt tears prick her eyes. "In any case, Tonks managed to get me to a hospital, and Snape here made a potion that saved my life. Thanks to you both," he said, managing a pained smile.

"You said you knew two of the Death Eaters," Albus prompted quietly. "One was Antonin Dolohov, the other...?"

Kingsley closed his eyes. "I...fuck," he muttered. He opened his eyes, and Molly realized that he was looking at Arthur. Then he turned to Albus. "I, could I please speak to you in private, Albus? This isn't about Vance, it's ... I can't..." He glanced back at Arthur, then at her, then at his feet. "Please."

Albus had started to nod when Arthur whispered, "Just tell me, Kingsley. Just tell me it's not him."

Kingsley's eyes shot up. "I..."

"Please," Arthur whispered. "Please, just tell me it's not him. That's all, just tell me it's not..."

Molly stared at her husband in disbelief. "Arthur...what are you talking..." Her mind suddenly flashed back to their row a week earlier. "I'm afraid of what he's done, Molly, afraid he might have made a huge mistake. Penelope mentioned he was extremely disillusioned after Fudge demoted him, that he's been spending time with a bad element, that he's been taking his anger out on muggles... "

"How can you say that!" Molly demanded, shooting up out of her seat. Arthur turned and looked at her with an empty expression. "How can you say that?" she asked him again. Then she turned to Kingsley. "Tell him he's insane. Tell him..."

"Mum, what's going on?" Fred asked, but Molly ignored him.

"Tell him that he's wrong!" Molly exclaimed again. She turned back to Arthur. "How can you say such a thing? I..."

"Kingsely..." Arthur whispered.

"Perhaps," Albus said, coming over to them, "perhaps we ought to discuss this in private, Arthur, Molly..."

"Tell me it wasn't him!" Arthur demanded angrily.

Kingsley looked at Arthur with bright eyes. "Arthur..." Then he looked at her. "Molly..."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "This is absolutely insane. It's not possible."

"I'm so sorry," Kingsley said quietly.

Arthur fell into his seat and put his head in his hands, but Molly remained standing. "No! You're wrong. You're mistaken. You've made a mistake! How could you be sure..."

"His name," Kingsley said. "They said his name..."

Molly let out a dry, nervous laugh. "His name? That's all? There are other boys with his name...It's not an uncommon name, really..."

"Molly, I'm so sorry. He said... I asked him for his full name, he..."

"Then he was lying!" Molly exclaimed. "It's not possible!"

"He said..." Kingsley shook his head.

"What did he say?" Arthur asked, looking up from his hands.

Kingsley shook his head again. "Arthur, it doesn't matter. I don't think he wanted to be there, I think..."

"What did he say?" Arthur demanded, standing up.

"I..."Kingsley closed his eyes. "He said he was the only true Weasley left."

"What is he talking about, Mum, Dad?" It was George this time. Funny how well she could tell their voices apart, even though they sometimes tried to trick her into thinking one was really the other. Of course, Percy had never been able to tell them apart, he'd always been flummoxed by the twins. Percy.

"Whoever he was, he was lying!" Molly said. "He was lying. He was trying to frame him, he was trying to..."

"He lifted his mask, Molly," Kingsley said quietly. "He looked at me, he..."

"No," Molly whispered. "No."

"Molly, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Kingsley repeated.

"Imperius!" Molly exclaimed. "It was the Imperius curse!"

"I..." Kingsley looked helplessly at Albus. "I..."

"Did he appear to be under the curse?" Albus asked quietly.

"I...He didn't seem to want to be there," Kingsley said. "His hands shook, he looked like he was reconsidering, he only did it because the other one goaded him..." Kingsley winced. "Arthur, Molly, he was scared, I could tell he was scared."

"He knew it was wrong," Arthur murmured. "He knew it was wrong, and yet he was still there. He knew what he was doing, didn't he?"

"No!" Molly shouted. "He was under a curse. There is no way..."

"Did he do this to you?" Arthur asked as Kingsley continued to wipe the blood from his nose. "Did he do this to you?"

"I..."

"Impossible!" Molly said. "He does not know how to do things like that!"

"Mum..." It was Bill this time, Bill, whose earring had always bothered her. Maybe Fleur would get him to take it out, especially before they had children. It couldn't be a good influence on the children.

"Please, Mum, maybe we should..." Now Charlie, his big arm around her shoulders. Yes, Charlie and Charlotte would be a good match, a very good match. He was so shy, so quiet, so much like Percy. Oh yes, Percy Weasley was a shy boy, always had been, no matter how it might seem. That pompous exterior had always been a cover for the shyness ... so sensitive, so shy.

"He did this to you," Arthur said again. Why did Arthur have to keep asking these stupid, horrible questions?

"Stop saying that," she told him. "He doesn't do things like this."

"Tell me what he did to you," Arthur demanded of Kingsley, as if Molly had never spoken.

"I said..."

"Arthur, I am so sorry, I really don't think he wanted...he was so scared, I could tell he was scared..."

Molly didn't realize that her knees had hit the floor until Charlie - Charlie with his calloused, dragon-hardened hands, Charlie, so like Percy, really, oh you may think they're really different, that Charlie is all physical and Percy all brains, but really, deep down, they both have such good hearts - began lifting her up. She was vaguely aware of noise around her, of being guided somewhere, of tripping up some stairs, of someone sobbing, sobbing so loud that the portrait - which always collected so many cobwebs, as if the portrait itself weren't horrid enough, no one knew the difficulties of keeping this nasty old house clean like Molly Weasley - woke up and began screaming: Blood traitors, blood traitors, blood traitors! Up some more stairs, "Mum, what's the matter?" Ron, he's getting so tall now, too skinny, needs new robes, and Ginny, "Mum, Mum? Charlie, what's wrong with Mum?" Ginny, her girl, her heart, she understood, knew what it was like to be a woman amongst a tribe full of men. Ginny, who had always been the kindest to Percy, Ginny, whose heart was always in the right place. Mouth opening, something bitter sliding down it, something really foul tasting, tasting, tasting, oh, dinner, "Dinner, I've got to finish..." But tired, tired, so tired.

Percy, Percy, not her Percy. Not her Percy.