I watch Hermione as she paces around the room. My book in my hand as I read some old muggle classics. This one actually about witches. But it was rather offensive, saying we were ugly, green, and wicked. Why were all muggle witches evil? Hermione's frizzy hair keeps passing me keeping me from thinking. "Hermione stop pacing you're distracting my inner monologue," I say, "and we need that."

 "Sorry," She mumbles as I look back down and she yells. "HARRY!"  I look up to see the boy looking extremely upset. "Ron, Y/n, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless—but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't."

"Hey I sent him chocolate and told him about Lucius so I get a half of a point," I correct her.

"Oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got to tell us—the dementors! When we heard—and that Ministry hearing—it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations—" Hermione rants.

"Let him breathe, Hermione," Ron says grinning, closing the door behind Harry. Both of the boys had grown several inches leaving me looking like a tiny being.  Hermione hugs Harry, then I do. As a ball of white sweeps down from the dresser. It was Hedwig.

"Hedwig!" Harry yells

"Oh yeah Lunar and Hedwidge aren't very fond of each other," I tell him, "and they both seem to want to murder Pig." Hedwig nips at Harry and I chuckle.

"She's been in a right state," Ron says"Pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters, look at this—" Ron shows Harry his scar from Hedwig. 

"Oh yeah," Harry says, "Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know..."

"We wanted to give them to you, mate," Ron says, "Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you'd do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us—"

"—swear not to tell me," Harry says, "Yeah, Hermione's already said."

"We really are sorry Harry," I tell him, "trust me we wish we could had said anything. I tried but they started to check my letters before I could send them." 

"I appreciate the attempt," He sighs.

"He seemed to think it was best," Hermione says rather breathlessly. "Dumbledore, I mean."

"Right," Harry says. 

"I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles—" Ron begins.

"Yeah?" Harry says, raising his eyebrows. "Have any of you been attacked by dementors this summer?"

"Harry," I mumble.

"Well, no—but that's why he's had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time—" Ron says.

"Didn't work that well, though, did it?" Harry says, "Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?"

"He was so angry," Hermione says in an almost awestruck voice. "Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus had left before his shift had ended. He was scary."

"Well, I'm glad he left," Harry say coldly. "If he hadn't, I wouldn't have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer."

"People are trying to protect you," I tell him.

"And their doing a shit job!" He yells. 

"Don't take it out on us we were simply doing what we are told to do!" I scream at him. I drop my voice and sigh, "Harry trust us." He nods and Hermione looks up at him.

"Aren't you... aren't you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?" asks Hermione quietly.

"No," Harry boldly as he walks away from us looking around at the old room. "So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark? Did you—er—bother to ask him at all?" I roll my eyes at him and look over to Ron and Hermione. We had called it that he would act like that..

"We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on," Ron says, "We did, mate. But he's really busy now, we've only seen him twice since we came here and he didn't have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted—"

"He could still've kept me informed if he'd wanted to," Harry says shortly. "You're not telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls."

"I thought that too. But he didn't want you to know anything," Hermione says.

"Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted,"  Harry says, watching their expressions.

"Don't be thick," Ron says, looking highly disconcerted.

"Oh brother," I sigh, "Harry think for one bloody second!"

"Or that I can't take care of myself—"

"Of course he doesn't think that!" saysHermione anxiously.

"So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys' while you two get to join in everything that's going on here?" Harry says. "How come you three are allowed to know everything that's going on—?"

"We're not!" Ron interrupts,"Well Hermione and I aren't." He says eyeing me.

"If its any consultation they don't want me there," I tell them, "my dads request."

"Anyways, Mum won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young—"

"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS' FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU THREE'VE EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT—WHO SAVED THE SORCERER'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED BOTH YOUR SKINS FROM THE DEMENTORS? WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!" Hermione looked as if she was about to cry, Ron looked stunned, and I was digging my nails into my palm in frustration. "BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?"

"Harry, we wanted to tell you, we really did—" Hermione begins.

"CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT DUMBLEDORE MADE YOU SWEAR—"

"Well, he did—"

"Harry."

"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN PRIVET DRIVE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON—"

"We wanted to—"

"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER—"

"Harry!"

"No, honest—"

"Harry, we're really sorry!" Hermione says desperately, her eyes now sparkling with tears. "You're absolutely right, Harry—I'd be furious if it was me!" He looked as if he was going to scream again so I toss my book at his head.

"Really! Now!" He yells.

"Stop being such a dick," I hiss, "we are trying to keep your ass alive okay?" He sighs and looks around.

"What is this place anyway?" Harry asks.

"Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," Ron says.

"Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix—?"

"It's a secret society," Hermione says quickly. "Dumbledore's in charge, he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time."

"Who's in it?" Harry asks.

"Quite a few people—" Ron says, "—we've met about twenty of them, but we think there are more..."

"Why are you in it?" Harry asks me.

"My dad told them if anything happened with you know who and they had already got to him to make me a member," I explain, "they all were against it but it was his wish so they allowed it. I only get to go to some of the meetings and I'm not allowed to talk about any of it."

"More secrets," He says, "great." We all stop and he looks at us once again. "Well?"

"Er," Ron says,"Well what?"

"Voldemort!" Harry yells furiously, all of us wince, "What's happening? What's he up to? Where is he? What are we doing to stop him?"

"We've told you, the Order don't let us in on their meetings," Hermione says nervously. "So we don't know the details—but we've got a general idea—" 

"Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears, see," Ron says, "They're really useful."

"Extendable—?"

"Ears, yeah. Only we've had to stop using them lately because Mum found out and went berserk. Fred and George had to hide them all to stop Mum binning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Mum realized what was going on. We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters, keeping tabs on them, you know—"

"—some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order—" Hermione says.

"—and some of them are standing guard over something," Ron says, "They're always talking about guard duty."

"Couldn't have been me, could it?" Harry says sarcastically.

"Oh yeah," said Ron, with a look of dawning comprehension. Harry was avoiding looking at us, while I felt guilty about not being able to say anything.

 "So what have you two been doing, if you're not allowed in meetings?" he demands. "You said you'd been busy."

"We have," Hermione says quickly. "We've been decontaminating this house, it's been empty for ages and stuff's been breeding in here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms, and I think we're doing the drawing room tomo—AARGH!" The popping sound of apparation echos as they twins apparate into the room. "Stop doing that!" I chuckle and high five the twins.

"Hello, Harry," George says, beaming at him. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."

"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," Fred says, also beaming. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you."

"You two passed your Apparation tests, then?" Harry asks grumpily.

"With distinction," Fred says.

"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," Ron says.

"Time is Galleons, little brother," said Fred. "Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception. Extendable Ears, We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs."

"Oh boy," I sigh.

"You want to be careful," Ron says, staring at the ear. "If Mum sees one of them again..."

"It's worth the risk, that's a major meeting they're having," Fred says as Ginny joins us.

"Hence why I'm not allowed," I groan.

"Oh hello, Harry!" Ginny says brightly. "I thought I heard your voice. It's no go with the Extendable Ears, she's gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door."

"Fact," I say to them.

"How d'you know?" George asks us.

"Tonks told me how to find out," Ginny says, "You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact the door's been Imperturbed. I've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap."

"And it was one of those things I was told that I didn't feel like telling you," I say. 

"Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to," Fred sighs.

"Snape?" asks Harry quickly. "Is he here?"

"Yeah," George says closing the door and sitting down on my bed, "Giving a report. Top secret."

"Git," Fred says.

"He's on our side now," Hermione says reprovingly.

"Doesn't stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us..." Ron snorts.

"Bill doesn't like him either," Ginny says. 

"Is Bill here?" Harry asks, "I thought he was working in Egypt."

"He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order," Fred says He says he misses the tombs, but," he smirks, "there are compensations..." I smack his arm.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asks.

"Remember old Fleur Delacour?" George says, "She's got a job at Gringotts to eemprove 'er Eeenglish—"

"—and Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons," snickers Fred.

"She stayed for him and has an excuse to see him often," I say, "they are destined to be a thing."

"Charlie's in the Order too," George says, "but he's still in Romania, Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off."

"Couldn't Percy do that?" Harry asks. We all exchange looks and sigh.

"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad," Ron warns Harry. 

"Why not?"

"Because every time Percy's name's mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding and Mum starts crying," Fred says.

"It's been awful," Ginny says sadly.

"I think we're well shut of him," George says. 

"What's happened?" Harry says.

"Percy and Dad had a row," said Fred. "I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts..."

"It was the first week back after term ended," Ron says, "We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted."

"You're kidding?" Harry asks.

"Yeah, we were all surprised," George says, "because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn't going to complain..."

"So how come they promoted him?"

"That's exactly what we wondered," I tell him.

"He came home really pleased with himself—even more pleased than usual if you can imagine that—and told Dad he'd been offered a position in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts—Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think," Ron says.

"Only Dad wasn't," Fred says grimly.

"Why not?" Harry asks.

"Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore," George says.

"Dumbledore's name's mud with the Ministry these days, see," Fred says, "They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back."

"Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks," George says, "Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession—"

"But what's this got to do with Percy?" asks Harry.

"I'm coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family—and Dumbledore."

"Bet Percy loved that." Harry snorts.

"Percy lost it," I tell Harry, "he was mad at everyone and everything."

"He said—well, he said loads of terrible stuff. He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition and that's why we've always been—you know—not had a lot of money, I mean—" George says.

"What?" Harry asks in disbelief.

"I know," Ron says in a low voice. "And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he—Percy—knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family anymore. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now."

"Its been rough around here because of it," I say.

"Mum's been You know—crying and stuff. She came up to London to try and talk to Percy but he slammed the door in her face. I dunno what he does if he meets Dad at work—ignores him, I s'pose," Ron says.

"But Percy must know Voldemort's back," said Harry slowly. "He's not stupid, he must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof—"

"There is the problem," I tell Harry, "Percy is a man who needs proof, and since the only evidence is your word and a body. He's not going to accept it as fact. Besides the Daily Prophet-"

"Percy takes the Daily Prophet seriously," Hermione says tartly, and the rest of us nod.]

"What are you talking about?" Harry asks looking around at us. We all aviod his pressing gaze. 

"Haven't—haven't you been getting the Daily Prophet?" Hermione asks nervously.

"Yeah, I have!" Harry says.

"Have you—er—been reading it thoroughly?" Hermione asks anxiously.

"Not cover to cover," Harry says defensively. "If they were going to report anything about Voldemort it would be headline news, wouldn't it!" We flinch at the name.

"Well, you'd need to read it cover to cover to pick it up, but they—um—they mention you a couple of times a week," Hermione says.

"But I'd have seen—"

"Not if you've only been reading the front page, you wouldn't," I tell him, "dude you're a joke now."

"What d'you—?"

"It's quite nasty, actually,"  Hermione  says forcing herself to sound calm, "They're just building on Rita's stuff."

"But she's not writing for them anymore, is she?"

"Oh no, she's kept her promise—not that she's got any choice," Hermione adds with satisfaction. "But she laid the foundation for what they're trying to do now."

"Which is what?" 

"Okay, you know she wrote that you were collapsing all over the place and saying your scar was hurting and all that?" Hermione asks.

"Yeah," Harry says.

"Now your the bud of a joke," I inform him, "the slip in snide comments in other articles like, 'a tale worthy of Harry Potter'  if its some wild far fetched story and if its and accident that can be seen as humorous they'll say 'let's hope he hasn't got a scar on his forehead or we'll be asked to worship him next—'"

"I don't want anyone to worship—" Harry starts.

"I know you don't," Hermione says quickly,  "I know, Harry. But you see what they're doing? They want to turn you into someone nobody will believe. Fudge is behind it, I'll bet anything. They want wizards on the street to think you're just some stupid boy who's a bit of a joke, who tells ridiculous tall stories because he loves being famous and wants to keep it going."

"They are trying to ruin your credibility," I explain.

"I didn't ask—I didn't want—Voldemort killed my parents!" Harry splutters "I got famous because he murdered my family but couldn't kill me! Who wants to be famous for that? Don't they think I'd rather it'd never—"

"We know, Harry," says Ginny earnestly.

"And of course, they didn't report a word about the dementors attacking you,"  Hermione says, "Someone's told them to keep that quiet. That should've been a really big story, out-of-control dementors. They haven't even reported that you broke the International Statute of Secrecy—we thought they would, it would tie in so well with this image of you as some stupid show-off—we think they're biding their time until you're expelled, then they're really going to go to town—I mean, if you're expelled, obviously- you really shouldn't be, not if they abide by their own laws, there's no case against you." The sound of footsteps thump against the stairs. 

"Uh-oh," Fred says as he tugs on the extendable ear then he and his twin apparate from the room. Seconds later Molly enters the room.

"The meeting's over, you can come down and have dinner now, everyone's dying to see you, Harry. And who's left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?" She says.

"Crookshanks," Ginny say, "He loves playing with them."

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley says,  "I thought it might have been Kreacher, he keeps doing odd things like that. Now don't forget to keep your voices down in the hall. Ginny, your hands are filthy, what have you been doing? Go and wash them before dinner, please..." Ginny nods and follows her mother out. The remaining four of us exchange a look waiting for Harry to start yelling again.

"Look..."  Harry says. 

"We knew you'd be angry, Harry, we really don't blame you, but you've got to understand, we did try and persuade Dumbledore—" Hermione says.

"Yeah, I know," Harry says, "Who's Kreacher?"

"The house-elf who lives here," Ron says, "Nutter. Never met one like him."

"He's not a nutter, Ron—"

"His life's ambition is to have his head cut off and stuck up on a plaque just like his mother," Ron says irritably. "Is that normal, Hermione?"

"Thats how he was taught be Ron," I say.

"Well—well, if he is a bit strange, it's not his fault—"

"Hermione still hasn't given up on spew—"

"It's not 'spew'!" says Hermione heatedly. "It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, and it's not just me, Dumbledore says we should be kind to Kreacher too—"

"Yeah, yeah," Ron says.

"Can we go eat?" I ask.

"C'mon, I'm starving," Ron says, "Hold it!" Ron breathes, flinging out an arm to stop us from walking any further, "they're still in the hall, we might be able to hear something—"

"Come on stupid," I groan. He hold me back and lowers and extendable ear with his other hand. Nothing no a thing. 

"Dammit," Fred says. We here the door shut and start to walk down again.

"Snape never eats here," Ron tells Harry quietly. "Thank God. C'mon."

"And don't forget to keep your voice down in the hall, Harry," Hermione whispers. We pass rows of elf heads as we reach Lupin, Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks. Tonks and I at first didn't get along. She called me a fake metamorphoses because of my purple locks but we warmed up to each other when I made it sure that I didn't chose to keep it. I just had it. Like Harry's scar.

"We're eating down in the kitchen," Molly whispers to us, "Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall, it's through this door here—" Aloud crash echos. Oh had Tonks done it.

"Tonks!" cries Mrs. Weasley exasperatedly, turning to look behind her.

"I'm sorry!" Tonks wails as she lies on the floor, "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over—" A loud bloodcurdling screech cuts her off as the curtains fly open to reveal a portrait. It was of an old lady with yellow stretched skin. Her scream has woken up the other portraits making them screech loudly too. I throw my hands over my ears as I rush to make it through.

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers—" Tonks kept apologizing, Molly was stunning portraits, everything was a mess. 

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" Sirius yells.

"Yoooou!" she howls, "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"

"I said—shut—UP!" He roars.

"Hello, Harry," Sirius says grimly, "I see you've met my mother."