Chapter Eight “ The Order of the Phoenix
“Hello, Harry!” Kingsley Shacklebolt shook his hand warmly. “Arthur told me that you are now in the Order.”
Harry nodded as he was ushered into a chair beside Hermione. He looked around the table. Beside Hermione were Ron, Fred and George. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were deep in conversation with another witch and wizard that Harry didn’t know. Lupin was holding hands with Tonks, who was discussing wedding plans with Mad-Eye Moody. Bill and Fleur had just arrived and were being congratulated by a wheezy old wizard whose name Harry couldn’t remember. Charlie had brought down Phineas Nigellus’ old portrait into the kitchen, from which, Dumbledore was now chatting with a plump witch.
Professor McGonagall walked in and spotted Harry. She was carrying a large package wrapped in brown paper.
“Ah, Potter!” she said with a small smile. “I believe Albus wanted you to receive this… oh, there he is!” She waved at the portrait, which winked back. “This is his old Pensieve.
The room went silent. They were all staring at the package.
“A Pensieve?” asked the wheezy old wizard, “those are really rare!”
“Yes, it’s mine, actually,” Dumbledore piped in from the wall where he hung. “I gave it to Harry to help him in his search for Voldemort’s Horcruxes.”
A shiver ran around the room as the plump woman said, “You-Know-Who has a Horcrux?” Her eyes were wide with fear.
“Several, Flora, but two are already destroyed, and one is Voldemort himself.”
Muttering burst out along the table. Obviously Dumbledore had not yet mentioned the Horcruxes to the Order, but he seemed to think that now was the time.
“But where are they? How do we destroy them? Blimey! That leaves four Horcruxes!”
“Please, please!” Dumbledore raised his old, portrait hands. Harry noticed that his right hand was still black, even in his portrait life.
“Harry and I have been discussing this, we know what two of them are, and we are working on how to find them. This is why I gave Harry my Pensieve. It is a matter that Harry must work out by himself, although I urge you all to help him if he needs you to.”
“But, Albus!” said a wizard with a very deep voice, “how do you know what they are?”
Dumbledore paused, as though he wanted say ‘just because’, but he then smiled.
“Because I know Tom Riddle. I know his style, I know his motives, and I know his life story.” This was the same speech Harry had heard a few months ago in the cave.
“So,” said a blond witch beside him, “what are they?”
The group as a whole leaned in as though keen to find out. Dumbledore, however, seemed to think better about telling them.
“This is a matter between Harry and I,” he sighed. “Death has taught me something. I was too trusting of Severus Snape; the whole Order was put at risk. What if someone in this room is actually a spy? Or an imposter? Or under the Imperious curse? I may have been a skilled Legilimens, but so was Severus.”
“I like the way you think!” barked Mad-Eye. He banged his fist on the table sending goblets into the air. “Not everyone is good. Constant vigilance!”
“But, Albus,” Kingsley reasoned, “if we all keep secrets from each other, how are we supposed to get anything done?”
“I’m sorry, Kingsley, but I’m afraid the risk is far too great.”
“Anyway,” Mr. Weasley said quickly - the rest of the group didn’t seem to agree with Dumbledore, “the Ministry plan. We are sure that if we reverse it, we can capture multiple Death Eaters. We were so close to Snape this morning; if only we arrived seconds earlier.”
“Excuse me,” said Hermione, very quietly and tentatively. “What is the Ministry plan?”
“Well, young Order member,” Kingsley said kindly, “it’s actually a very dodgy plan, which involves getting into the Department of Mysteries.”
Harry felt his stomach drop. This was the last place he wanted to go. It was just over a year ago that Sirius had fallen through the Veil of Death to never return again. As though reading Harry’s mind, Kingsley continued.
“We have to examine the Veil of Death. Forcing Death Eaters though it would technically kill them, while not making us murderers, which no one here wants to be. We thought even Voldemort himself would be able to die if he should walk through it. Now, however…I don’t think so, not now that we know he has four Horcruxes!”
“But,” Mr. Weasley said, “if we can lure the Death Eaters there and capture Snape, our information can be salvaged. We are sure he knows about the plan and can use that to his own advantage somehow. He may warn the Death Eaters, or they might show up and try to finish us off. I am sure they are wise to us now and will not allow themselves to be thrown into the Veil.”
“How were you going to lure them there in the first place?” Harry asked.
“Well,” Kingsley answered, “with you,”
“Don’t worry, Harry, not in the physical form, we wouldn’t allow that!” Mr. Weasley rushed to explain. “But with Legilimency. You-Know-Who himself gave us that idea.”
“But I thought he was using Occlumency against me?” Harry said. Dumbledore had mentioned this last year.
“Well, yes, he is, but a stronger Legilimens can break the Occlumens,” Dumbledore said, his chin resting on his folded hands.
“But I’m rubbish! I can’t block anything from my mind, let alone Voldemort!”
“Ah, but Harry, it is not Occlumency, but Legilimency!” Dumbledore smiled.
“And,” Mr. Weasley added, his face hardening, “you have to take Occlumency anyway, if you’re dating Ginny.”
Once again the group muttered, but it was no longer fearful. There was a small outburst of laughter, and someone giggled, “I knew it!”
“Who will teach me?” he asked, trying to ignore the people still smiling about his personal life.
“That would be me.” The deep voice wizard stood up and shook Harry’s hand. “Norwin Mayar,” he said beaming.
He had short brown hair and a moustache much like Uncle Vernon’s, but, unlike Uncle Vernon, he was very lean.
“Norwin is as skilled as Severus, Voldemort and I in Legilimency and Occlumency, perhaps more,” Dumbledore said. “He will give you lessons as often as possible. Although the plan will be altered, we may still need you. And, of course, you have to protect yourself and your young lady friend, in any case,” he winked, and Harry felt himself blush.
“Anyway, Harry,” Dumbledore continued, averting the attention away from Harry’s relationship, “why don’t you open the Pensieve. I would like to show you how to work it.”
Harry eagerly tore open the package. There it was, Dumbledore’s Pensieve, lined with markings in other languages, and filled with the odd substance that is memory.
“I put many memories in there the night I passed, and some are in vials in that box over there. I am sure you will always be able to find the ones you need. I also, as I already told you, put the memories of some friends in there also, the ones I found important. When practicing Occlumency, you can put some, er, more private memories in the Pensieve, and Voldemort won’t be any the wiser. Now, bring that admirable basin upstairs to your own room, the meeting is ending. Goodbye, Harry.”
~*~
The remainder of the week before Ginny returned to Hogwarts was spent redecorating the house. Tonks had bought some brightly coloured paint, and everyone enjoyed the new yellow kitchen, the soft green sitting room, and vibrant purple entrance hall. Harry and Ron had chosen red for their room, and Hermione and Ginny had picked pink. Fred and George naturally chose a blinding orange. Mrs. Weasley levitated more candles to sit in the chandelier, which made every room much brighter.
When September the first arrived much too soon, Ginny was found scurrying around the house gathering her belongings. Dumbledore’s portrait had insisted that only Mr. Weasley should escort her to Platform 9 3/4, and Mad-Eye Moody would be their only guard.
Harry and Ginny shared a rather tearful goodbye, and Harry couldn’t help but worry that this would be the last time he would kiss her.
“Send Hunter with a letter every day,” Harry said.
“I will, you send Hedwig.”
“Be safe”
“I should be telling you that.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll be back by Christmas.”
“I love you.” Harry paused. It had just slipped out. This was the first time he had said this to anyone, but in his heart, he knew he had meant it. Ginny looked surprised, but finally smiled and kissed him goodbye.
“I love you, too.”
Ginny left for school; much too early, Harry thought. He had just told her that he loved her, and now she was gone. Mrs. Weasley had assured him that the protective charm that Mr. Weasley had placed on them would last even when she was so many miles away, and yet, he couldn’t stop worrying.
“Cheer up, Harry,” Ron said. He seemed a lot less tense since Ginny had left. “She’ll be back at Christmas, you’ll see her then.”
“You’re just glad that those two can’t snog anymore!” Fred butted in.
“What? Not like I care!” Ron snapped.
“Oh, sure Ron! So you just clench your fists because you’ve been taking U-No-Poo, then?” George laughed. Harry didn’t know that it bothered Ron this much. He had seemed ok with everything so far.
~*~
Lupin approached Harry two days after Ginny left.
“Dumbledore told me that you could talk with me about the Horcruxes you know of. He reckons I can help.”
Relieved, Harry explained all about the locket, the cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff, Nagini, and the one he didn’t yet know.
“This locket,” Lupin said, his brow furrowed, “what did it look like?”
“I can’t remember it exactly, but I can show you!” Harry said, suddenly remembering the Pensieve.
Minutes later, Harry and Lupin plunged headfirst into Hepzibah Smith’s memory. The locket was golden, engraved with a snakelike ‘S’, and looked very heavy.
“Slytherin’s mark,” Voldemort said, before Harry motioned to Lupin that it was all they needed to see.
Arriving back in Harry and Ron’s room, Lupin was shaking as though with self-contempt.
“I’ve seen that locket before,” he muttered.
“Where, did Dumbledore show you?”
“I’ve seen that locket before,” he repeated bitterly, “I’ve sold it! It was in this house, but I sold it!”