DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!
Chapter 5:
“Hermione,” Ron started, concern overriding his slur, “where did you go? Are you alright?” Hermione was clutching her stomach.
“Apparating after drinking is not an excellent idea,” she panted, smiling up at Ron with watery eyes. “But it was worth it. I know who R.A.B. is.”
“Hermione!” Harry jumped to his feet, his lightheadedness from the half a bottle of Firewhiskey quickly disappearing. “That’s incredible! Who is it?”
Ron was still recovering from the news as Hermione raced to explain. “I realized when Ron mentioned the list of Hogwarts students who were refusing to attend this year that the Daily Prophet was constantly making lists and guessing mis-guided statistics from their falsely generated polls,” she paused to take a deep breath as she sat up from Ron’s lap. “Oh! That horrible liquid gives you such a headache!” Hermione complained as her face flushed from her sudden change of position.
“Hermione!” Ron and Harry yelled in unison.
“Right. So, I’ve already checked all the books I could find trying to match names to the initials R.A.B. and I couldn’t find any names that made sense! First I found Rosalind Antigone Bungs, but she didn’t seem right. And then I found Rupert ‘Axebanger’ Brookstanton, but…”
“Please, Hermione! Get on with it!” Harry begged.
“Alright! Alright!” she responded with irritation. “So, then, I realized I had never cross checked the initials with the names of known and convicted Death Eaters. I Apparated over to the manor and went straight to see Professor McGonagall, who, by the way, was not at all pleased to see me in this state,” Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust but continued quickly at the look from both Harry and Ron. “Anyway, she quickly dug out a list of all the confirmed Death Eaters from an archive of old Daily Prophets and guess what? R.A.B. is none other than Regulus Alphard Black! Apparently his middle name was an old family name belonging to his uncle-” But Hermione’s sentence was cut short as Ron descended on her with a swift kiss.
“Brilliant!” he said quickly before jumping off the couch and leading Harry in a spirited dance around the living room.
Hermione’s smile broadened immensely as she repaired her formerly shattered glass and poured herself a fresh Firewhiskey.
Despite the late night celebrating Hermione’s discovery, Harry awoke early the next morning with, thankfully, only a minimal headache. Ron’s head was apparently heavier because the only response Harry received when he tried to wake him was a strangled sounding moan.
“I’ll bring Hermione in here if you don’t get up!” Harry threatened loudly.
Ron groaned. “She can’t be feeling any better,” he said, attempting to sit up. “Did you see her down that last glass?” Ron asked with a mixture of exasperation and admiration.
“Well, then maybe you better go check on her,” Harry suggested. Ron groaned again but, as Harry knew he would, quickly made it to Hermione’s door.
“Erm, Hermione?” Ron knocked tentatively on her door.
“In here, Ron!” Hermione called cheerfully from the kitchen. “I’ve started breakfast. I know Harry wanted to get an early start.”
“Hermione!” Ron stumbled into the kitchen and goggled at the bushy brunette who was pouring him a glass of pumpkin juice. “How are you…”
“Here, drink this,” Hermione handed a small vial to both Ron and Harry.
“What is it?” Harry asked, eyeing the liquid suspiciously.
“It’s called Perk Up,” Hermione responded, now serving both the boys plates heaped full of pancakes, “your brothers invented it. It eliminates hangovers,” she explained. Harry downed the concoction in one gulp. It didn’t taste particularly good, but his head cleared instantaneously.
“When did they give it to you?” Ron asked, seemingly amazed that Hermione would be in possession of such a remedy.
“At Harry’s birthday,” she responded, seating herself at the kitchen table. “They seemed to be under the impression that you and Harry would want to drink the entire bottle in one night.” She stopped to eye Ron accusingly. “Apparently they thought I would be the more responsible one.”
“Just shows how wrong they can be, huh?” Ron said, smirking. “How many glasses did you have? Six? Seven?”
Hermione shot Ron a withering look.
“So,” Harry interrupted, eager to get started on the day’s work, “I was thinking we should start at the Black house today. Of course, that means we’ll have to deal with whatever Order member happens to be in this morning.”
Harry was painfully aware that the members of the Order of the Phoenix were not ecstatic over his wish to keep Dumbledore’s secrets to himself. After the trio had sent Hedwig to inform the Weasley’s that they had safe lodging and to send news back with Hedwig should they need to contact them, Mrs. Weasley had forwarded a letter from Kingsley Shacklebolt outlining his disapproval of Harry’s actions and requesting an immediate meeting. Harry had responded, via the Weasley’s, that he would contact the Order when he felt he could safely approach them. Unfortunately, that day seemed to have arrived.
“I think the best way to approach this is to request a meeting with the Order,” Hermione suggested, worriedly chewing on her lower lip. “We could attend one of their evening meetings and then spend the night. It would give us an opportunity to explain ourselves to the Order, search the house, and see Ron’s parents.” Harry and Ron were both aware that Hermione was anxious to speak to Mrs. Weasley alone. She had informed the trio that she had indeed visited Hermione’s parents, as she had promised, and Hermione hadn’t time yet to question her about it.
“Sounds good to me, Hermione,” Harry responded. Though he was not looking forward to the meeting, it did seem like the best way for them to approach the situation.
“So smart,” Ron exclaimed proudly through a mouth full of sausage as he pointed his fork in Hermione’s general direction. Hermione blushed as she shooed him out of his chair and towards the sink to begin the dishes.
“They did say eight o’clock, right, Harry?” Hermione whispered, tugging nervously on the edge of her shirt. They had just entered the Black house and there was no one in sight to greet them.
“Yeah, eight o’clock,” Harry whispered back, quietly making his way towards the stairwell leading to the kitchen. None of them wanted to evoke the anger of the painting that was quietly snoring by the door.
“I expect they’re waiting for us downstairs,” Ron said, following Harry and Hermione toward the stairwell.
A resounding crash followed by very high-pitched screeching startled the trio. Harry had just caught Hermione around the waist as she tottered dangerously on the edge of the first step.
“Blood traitors! Vermin! Horrible mud-bloods in my home! Oh, the disgrace!” the painting on the wall began horribly, ringing throughout the darkened household.
“Nymphadora, dear,” Lupin came swiftly into sight from a side room, talking loudly over the earsplitting screaming. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to see Tonks in the entranceway attempting to disentangle herself from what looked like an old troll’s leg. “I was waiting for you to turn up!” Lupin pulled a blushing Tonks into a warm kiss.
“Filth! Disgracing my fathers!”
“I hate that stupid umbrella stand,” she mumbled, embarrassed. “Have they arrived, yet?”
“Just now,” Harry interrupted. Lupin and Tonks, surprised, quickly turned their attention to the trio.
“It was just Tonks again,” Mad-Eye Moody’s voice rang from somewhere below to be followed by an assortment of muttering. Harry guessed he undoubtedly used his roving magical eye to see through the floor from the kitchen below.
“I’ve got it, Moody!” Lupin shouted down the stairwell. “Give a hand, Mr. Weasley?” Lupin and Ron quickly pulled the curtain over the portrait of Siruis’s mother. “We need to find a way to remove this!” Lupin said with a grunt as the curtains finally snapped shut. “After you, Nymphadora,” he whispered as he gestured to the stairwell.
“You know I hate it when you call me that!” she whispered in response, though the smile on her face spoiled the scolding.
“I know,” Lupin said softly in return as he followed her, and the trio, down the stairs.
“Ron! Harry! Hermione!” Mrs. Weasley rushed on the three of them and enveloped them in a crushing embrace.
“After the meeting, please, Molly!” Kingsley Shacklebolt said with more force than Harry thought was exactly necessary.
“Leave her be, Shacklebolt,” Moody interjected roughly, “it’s her child.” Shacklebolt merely sniffed in return.
After Harry was released from Mrs. Weasley’s clutches, he was able to properly take in the occupants of the Black kitchen. The Order, which now included the entire Weasley family minus Ginny and Percy, was seated around the table and three empty chairs were placed on one end. Harry suddenly felt as though this was going to be less like a meeting and more like an inquisition.
“Take your seats, please,” Professor McGonagall addressed Harry, Ron, and Hermione. All three silently obliged.
“So,” Shacklebolt started, he seemed to have assumed the lead though Harry was quite sure Professor McGonagall was the newly appointed leader of the Order, “just where have you three been?”
“I’m sorry,” Harry responded hesitantly, “I can’t tell you that.”
Shacklebolt looked momentarily put out before he continued. “What is it you’re planning on doing? Why haven’t you returned to school where we can be sure of your location? Why have you left the Burrow?”
“I’m not going to divulge much,” Harry continued slowly, wanting to be aware of his footing. “But, I’ll say this. Before Professor Dumbledore died, he disclosed information to me that he felt would be pivotal in Voldemort’s downfall.” Harry paused as he heard a collective sharp intake of breath from the surrounding Order members at the mention of Voldemort’s name. “He asked that I tell no one, other than Ron and Hermione. I intend to keep his promise. I also intend to finish what he started before he died,” Harry faltered on this last word as the Order broke out into muttering.
“But, Harry,” Professor McGonagall began from the head of the table in a sympathetic voice that Harry rarely heard from her, “surely he didn’t mean for you to do this task alone. Were he alive, Headmaster Dumbledore would never have asked you to...”
“It’s my task,” Harry interrupted, smiling weakly as he met his former teacher’s eyes, “I’m afraid I can’t explain why. Besides, I have two devoted friends who are refusing to let me go do it alone.”
“But, you’re children! Barely legal!” Shacklebolt blustered, obviously irritated that Harry refused to share any more information.
“And yet, they have managed more in their young lives than some of our adult Order members,” Moody, who had been quiet up to this point, interjected from the corner.
“It comes back to it again,” Lupin continued quietly, “do you trust Dumbledore’s judgment? I still do.”
“But, Kingsley’s right,” a woman Harry remembered as Hestia Jones spoke up, “they are so young…”
“They’re my young,” Mrs. Weasley interrupted fiercely, with tears in her eyes. Ron squeezed Hermione’s hand when his mother referred to her as one of her own. “If I trust them enough to let them go, you all should as well!”
“But, Molly,” wheezed Elphias Doge, “if it is a matter of such great importance…”
“I’m sorry,” Harry interrupted, “I wish I could tell you more. But, I was specifically told by Dumbledore not to reveal this information. You’ll have to trust me.”
“We do, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, “we trust all three of you.”
Kingsley Shacklebolt threw his hands in the air. “We can’t let them do this alone! We are an organization devoted to the defeat of You-Know-Who!” Shacklebolt wheeled on Harry, pointing a finger in his face. “You can’t expect us to sit back and do nothing. To leave the fate of the wizarding world to-”
“I’m not asking you to do nothing,” Harry interrupted curtly. “Do everything as you always have. Keep up the defenses.”
“But, you’re telling us that they are ineffective! That you know the only way to defeat Him!” Delegus Diggle spoke up suddenly.
“Nothing is ineffective!” Tonks started angrily, “Just fighting to keep the Death Eaters at bay is important enough!”
“And,” Hermione added in a small voice, “we don’t need any extra attention drawn to us. Voldemort doesn’t know what we are planning. We need to keep it like that.”
“I suggest we use Veritaserum…” Shacklebolt started but was drowned out by an outburst of angry retorts.
“Enough!” Professor McGonagall cried. “Kingsley, we are all frustrated by our lack of knowledge on the subject of Mr. Potter’s intentions. However, we will not resort to illegal behaviors to secure the information we need! Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall turned briskly to face Harry, “I think we can come to an agreement. We are all afraid for your health. And, I hate to say this, but I believe several Order members,” she shot a look at Shacklebolt, “are also afraid that if it is true what you say…and if you should happen to die,” Professor McGonagall paused as a small sob escaped Mrs. Weasley, “then the secret of the method to bring about You-Know-Who’s defeat will die with you. If you can devise a method to secure this information in the event of your…passing…I believe the Order can be accommodating. I’m sorry, Harry, I don’t mean to sound so harsh,” Professor McGonagall finished quietly and Harry truly believed she regretted having to broach the topic.
“Er, Hermione,” Harry looked hopefully at his best friend.
“I believe we can work something out, Professor,” Hermione conclude with confidence.
“It’s a good thing Hermione learned how to perform the Fidelius Charm,” Ron stated, yawning as he shuffled up the stairs to the room he and Harry had shared two summer’s ago. “It certainly has been coming in handy lately.”
“It’s not exactly the Fidelius Charm, though it is quite similar,” Hermione corrected, following Ron up the stairs.
“There’s still a Secret-Keeper though, right?” Ron countered.
“Of sorts,” Hermione responded vaguely, “technically, they be called the Ni Sannfaid…”
“The what?”
“The origin is Irish, well Gaelic to be exact, loosely translated it means…”
“Can’t we just call it the Secret-Keeper?” Ron whined as he reached the bedroom door. Hermione huffed.
The meeting had ended briskly after Hermione’s assurance that she would perform the Coimead Charm on an individual of Harry’s choice, who would agree to become the ‘Secret-Keeper.’ Harry insisted, however, that the identity of the Secret-Keeper was not to be disclosed. He agreed that the person would be someone trustworthy who kept a distance from the battlegrounds and who would agree to stay in contact with the Order; but, he refused to disclose their identity.
The assorted members of the Order had quickly dispersed (Kingsley Shacklebolt had left in rather a bad mood) leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione alone with the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks, and Professor McGonagall. Mrs. Weasley cooked up a late dinner and the group sat down to enjoy the meal.
“Will you be staying the night?” Mrs. Weasley asked, trying to instill some cheerfulness into her voice.
“Yes, we were planning on it,” Hermione responded, as both Ron and Harry had portions of the desert shoved into their mouths.
“But, just for the night,” Harry managed to choke out.
“Then off to who knows where, eh?” Charlie muttered under his breath. Both of the eldest Weasley boys had difficulty accepting that their youngest brother and his friends were attempting something so obviously dangerous. Fred and George seemed as though they had not only expected it, but they were excited about it as well. Both had offered any help Harry needed.
“Charlie!” Mr. Weasley said sharply. “That’s enough for tonight.”
Normal conversation, though admittedly strained, returned to the table as Harry turned to his former Transfiguration teacher who was seated right next to him.
“How’s school going, Professor?”
“Quite well, actually, Potter,” Professor McGonagall replied, after sipping the coffee Mrs. Weasley was now passing out.
“So, are there houses, years, and all that?” Harry asked vaguely, remembering Hermione’s question from the previous night. He wanted to find out how Ginny was holding up, but he didn’t want to be so obvious about it.
“Not houses, no,” Professor McGonagall replied with a tint of sadness, “but we’re giving the students work that would be closest to the year they were supposed to be in. If the school should open again, these students will be caught up.”
“Ah, so the students are finding it all alright then,” Harry responded.
“Yes, Miss Weasley is finding everything just fine, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall replied, the edges of her mouth twitching, “Though it seems to me that she is spending an awful amount of time in the owlery. No doubt waiting an important package…” she mused, draining her coffee.
Harry nervously cleared his throat. “Yeah, must be,” he replied. He felt a twinge of guilt that he had not yet written to Ginny. He had tried, several times; it was just too hard to put into words what he was still afraid to say. He also had the added worry that the letters may be intercepted. Harry resolved that he would send something out that night, even if it weren’t much…
Not long after, Harry politely excused himself for the night. Ron held the kitchen door for Hermione as they quickly followed suit. Harry thought he saw Mrs. Weasley smile knowingly in the couple’s direction as they made their way towards the staircase.
“Any idea on who you want to use as a Ni Sann- Oh fine then,” she grumbled at Ron’s whining, “Secret-Keeper, Harry?” Hermione asked, entering the boys bedroom. “It obviously can’t be any of us, since you promised it would be someone who kept away from the battles.”
“Actually, no,” Harry responded, furrowing his brow. “But let’s deal with that later and focus on this locket for now. By the way,” he continued, “did you talk to Mrs. Weasley? How are your parents?”
Hermione brightened considerably. “Oh, it went quite well actually. Though I have strict instructions that I am to visit for Christmas. That was very sweet of your mother, Ron,” she finished thankfully. Ron grinned.
But, after three hours and a thorough search of number 12 Grimmauld Place, none of the trio had produced a locket. They all trudged up to Harry and Ron’s room, Hermione laden with a tray of freshly made sandwiches.
“Has anyone searched Kreacher’s nest?” Harry asked excitedly, jumping off the bed he had flung himself on.
“Yes, I did,” Hermione responded sadly, sinking into an armchair across from Ron’s bed, “I checked there first, you know how Kreacher is…”
“It’s not in the attic, the basement…I even searched that dirty old room where we cleaned doxies out of the curtains! It’s not anywhere!” Ron stated as he kicked an old rubbish bin by the door.
“That room we cleaned doxies out of the curtains…” Harry started thoughtfully. “Did you check the bookcase in that room?” Harry’s face lit up.
“Yeah, I did, because I remember there being an old, heavy locket that none of us could open,” Ron responded despondently, collapsing on his bed in frustration.
“I remember that!” Hermione perked up, absently handing Ron a sandwich. “You mean to say we had the Horcrux two years ago and didn’t even know it!”
“That must have been it,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Where the hell is it now?”
“Where did we put all that rubbish we cleaned out of the rooms?” Hermione asked.
“Mum shoved it all up in the attic,” Ron replied, cramming the remains of his sandwich into his mouth.
“But, we already checked there,” Hermione supplied.
“Exactly.”
“Could Kreacher have brought it with him anywhere?” Harry asked.
“House elves aren’t allowed to steal from their homes. If anything, he would have hidden it where he hid everything else.” Ron said, sitting up straighter and reaching for another sandwich.
Harry suddenly started to grind his teeth and pace furiously throughout the room. “That filthy thief! That dirty, rotten-”
“Harry,” Hermione stood up in concern, “we’ve already said, it couldn’t have possibly been Kreacher.”
“Not Kreacher!” Harry roared. “Mundungus!”
Hermione gasped and Ron started choking on his sandwich.
“Oh, Harry! Oh! That must be it!” Hermione started nervously pacing the room after she pointed her wand at Ron and silently relieved him of the sandwich he had lodged in his throat.
“Thanks, Hermione,” Ron said breathlessly. “Where would the wanker have put all that rubbish?”
“He had it in Hogsmeade! He was selling it, the prat!” Harry mumbled, trying to regain focus. “And I was told not to worry about it. Dumbledore knew and he told me to forget it! Dammit!” he yelled as he punched a wall near the door.
“It’s alright, Harry,” Hermione interrupted quickly. “It’s alright. We just have to find Mundungus.” Her eyes were darting quickly about the room. “We’ll just have to make him remember what he did with it. So, what we need is-”
“Bloody hell!” Ron yelped as his two older brothers Apparated into the bedroom and toppled both Harry and Hermione unto the bed.
“So, this is what’s going on during your mission, eh Harry?” Fred asked, winking mischievously as he pulled Harry to his feet and off Hermione.
“I must say, dear brother, I did not think you would approve of that arrangement,” George glanced accusingly in Ron’s direction as he crossed the room to help Hermione.
“No, it was our impression at dinner that you and Miss Granger are, shall we say, quite the item?” Fred continued, waggling his eyebrows at Ron.
“Not now, guys,” Ron mumbled, embarrassed.
“Honestly,” Hermione huffed, her face tingeing pink, as she straightened out her ruffled clothing.
“What are you doing in here? We’re in the middle of something,” Ron continued.
“Yes, we can see that!” George teased.
“Next time you’re so obviously engaged try to do it more quietly!” Fred continued, nodding towards the hole that Harry had punched into the wall.
“Yes, we think Harry might have woke up the entire household!” George pointed out before bowing courteously as he made to take his leave.
“No, wait!” Harry said suddenly, startling the twins.
“Something really is going on, isn’t Harry?” Fred asked, surprised.
“Yes, I need to find Mundungus. You wouldn’t have any idea where he is?” Harry asked hopefully, realizing this was a long shot.
“No-” Fred started.
“But, we know where he will be!” George finished.
A/N: Sorry! I know I ended the last one with a bit of a cliffhanger as well! Darn! Well, you’ll just have to keep reading now won’t you? Thanks, as always, to my beta reader Asphyxiated it would be months of rejections if she didn’t step in! Reviews are always appreciated! (In fact, I thrive on them!) ~ozma333