i. summertime sadness

It was late July.

The painted orange sky cast a golden glow over the quiet room. The open windows brought in the smell of roses and lilies from the garden and the breeze carried the familiar scent of parchment and old books across the library. Matilda sat, beside an opened window overlooking the grounds beneath her fathers' home. Her nose tucked in a dusty book in the empty library inside the quiet home. She'd gone through many books since returning home. Most days were spent only reading. 

Matilda had been confined to the high walls of her father's home. Or so, she felt she'd been confined. Spending most of her days alone and with no magic. Rueban disliked leaving Matilda for the long hours he did, but the Ministry was incredibly demanding of his time. Especially since the death of Cedric Diggory and the threat of Voldemort's return. And, because of her active role in the events of the last school year the Ministry had made it crystal clear that Rueban would no longer be permitted to bring Matilda into work with him. 

She only hoped this wouldn't jeopardize a future apprenticeship she'd been hoping for. 

Matilda hadn't seen much of her mother either. Harper was currently residing with their mother and David in the Muggle world during her time of grief. Matilda had written to her. Every day for a month, until the silence became telling enough. Harper didn't wish to hear from her, and so, Matilda stopped writing, and only hoped that maybe in time Harper would come around. 

Though her parents were careful in choosing their words with Matilda, and often withheld a lot of what Harper was feeling, Matilda knew, Harper blamed her. 

With a long sigh, Matilda shut her book. A cloud of dust swirling around her as she did so. The sun had disappeared behind the tall trees in the backyard, casting tall dark shadows throughout the dim room. The chirping of birds quieted as the evening air fell over them. 

"Tilly," the echo of her father's tone drew her from her thoughts. He'd returned home only a few minutes ago. She'd heard him appear in the kitchen. "You have a package."

Matilda's eyebrows creased together in confusion. She sat up from the window seat she'd been reclined in for hours now and stood up, on the hard flooring. She hadn't been expecting mail today, let alone a package of any kind. She'd just sent her letters out with Pluto this morning. 

The small, tight-knit group of friends Matilda had kept in touch throughout the holiday. Hermione wrote to her the most. Once every week the two girls would discuss their latest reads and their plans to work ahead on upcoming assignments. Padma and Luna wrote often as well. Padma expressing her excitement to wear her new clothes, and Luna gushing about her summer travels with her father. Matilda wrote to Harry most, expecting little or no reply at all since he was spending his summer days with his dreaded Aunt and Uncle Dursley. 

Ron wrote to her as well. It was awkward. Short and slightly forced communication. Neither he nor Matilda was familiar with the dating expectations. Matilda hoped it would be better when they came face-to-face again.

"A package?" she questioned as she descended from the second floor of the library, rounding the steel, spiral staircase. Her bare feet padded against the hardwood as she made her way through the hallway and stepped into the kitchen where her father stood over a pile of letters brought from his own owl. "From who?"

Rueban shrugged, flipping through the folded parchment brought to him from, "Not sure. You don't like it when I read your mail.

Matilda hummed as she stepped past her father. He was right, the two spent many nights arguing over her expected privacy, and because she was now into her teenage years Rueban allowed Matilda more privacy over her personal matters. 

A lonesome black box sat on the table. It was wrapped in a silk bow and just a piece of parchment with Matilda's name written neatly in cursive indicating that it was meant for her. Curiously, but cautiously Matilda took the box off the table. It was light in her hands. She shook it, nothing moved, and nothing exploded. 

Finally, Matilda untied the silk ribbon, letting it fall to the floor beside her feet. All four walls of the box fell open. It revealed a piece of stained parchment. In large, bold lettering Matilda's name appeared at the top of the regal piece of parchment. Under it, the letter read...

You, Matilda Winters, are cordially invited to join the Morgenstern family for their annual, formal dinner and party. The event will take place on the evening of Saturday, August 26th, 1995.

Best Regards,

The Morgenstern Family

The letter ended with a stamp of the Morgenstern family crest at the bottom of the piece of dyed parchment.

"I'm going."

And that was that. Before Rueban was given the chance to respond, Matilda plucked the invitation from the box and made her way past her father, and closed herself in her bedroom. There would be no discussion. Matilda would make an appearance at Morgenstern Manor. 

The days became hotter as August flew in to replace July.

The days became hotter and the house grew quieter. In the wake of August, a bomb of chaos had exploded inside the Ministry. All of Rueban's time had been demanded since now he was not only a Ministry official but an aid to Dumbledore as well. And so, the only company Matilda would have throughout the long, warm summer days was the books stacked to heavens in the house library. 

She hated it. Living in the dark while under the constant summer sun. No one was telling her anything. Letters from Ron and Hermione had become scarce. Harry had stopped replying completely, and her father refused to speak about anything involving his work to her. 

But something was wrong. She could feel it. In the still winds and the aching bones in her body. She could feel the wrongness. Something had happened and Matilda was completely useless in the matter. 

The tension in the air had been tight all week. She'd complained about it to her father. With constant headaches and fits of anger, Matilda had thought she was becoming ill. But it was more than that. 

It was late in the evening. The sun had just begun to settle behind the tall trees outside the home. Matilda had taken to pacing the house. In search of something ─ anything to distract her. She couldn't bring herself to read. Her spinning head wouldn't allow it. She chewed the almost non-existent nail on her thumb as she walked the halls and stairs of her father's home.

Matilda had just descended the main stairway when her father appeared below her in the living room. He'd apparated in. And in a hurry, it seemed as he'd stumbled the landing. His hair was a thrown mess. His tie had been loosened and the bags under his already tired eyes became even more noticeable. He spun around as if in search of something before his eyes landed on Matilda, still standing on the stairs.

"It's Harry," was all he said.

It was all he had to say. 

Matilda's chest tightened. Her throat became dry and her palms sweaty. The hands that lay at her sides shook and her eyes widened, fear shining brightly through them. She knew it. She knew something was wrong. She'd felt it. 

"What happened?" she demanded, stepping down off the last step, stopping in front of her father. "What happened? Is he hurt? Is he alive?"

Her mind allowed her to envision the darkest of possibilities. Voldemort. Had he found Harry? Matilda went to push past Rueban, where she was going she didn't know, but she couldn't remain here, not doing anything.

Rueban sensed his daughter's rising panic and daughter her by the arm. He raised his hands so they rested on her shoulders, his small attempt to make her remain in one spot, but Matilda pushed out of his grasp. The feeling of his touch... any touch made bile rise in her throat. 

"Tilly ─ Tilly! He's fine. Harry's alive," he assured a pacing Matilda. She stilled at his urgent tone, turning back around to face him.

Her eyes widened as relief poured through her body. Her father's tone drowned out after she heard that Harry was alive. Her throat opened back up and once again she could fill her aching lungs with air. Harry was alive. She held onto that. 

"I don't ─ I don't understand," Matilda shook her head, her eyebrows creasing together. "If Harry's fine then why... what's going on, dad?"

"I've been avoiding this all summer. I didn't want it to come to this," Rueban mumbled a response as he took up Matilda's act in pacing the living room floors. He began collecting random papers off the coffee tables and shoving them into his overflowing briefcase, "But Dumbledore... he's insisted."

Matilda stood still in her spot as her eyes followed her father around the room. She noticed beads of sweat forming on his forehead and he began to stammer as if his mind was moving too quickly for his mouth to keep up. 

"Dumbledore?" Matilda interrupted the incoherent rumblings of her father, sounding confused. "Dad, what exactly happened to Harry? What's going on?"

Rueban stood straight, squaring his shoulders. He cleared his throat as he turned to face his youngest daughter, "A dementor attack. Harry's facing disciplinary action at the Ministry for use of underage magic."

Matilda nodded. Her face showed no indication of what she was feeling or thinking. It was void, completely emotionless. But the urgency she used in her tone told Rueban enough, "I have to see him." She stated, she wasn't asking permission. "Where's my wand? I'm going to Harry."

"Tilly, wait," Rueban attempted once more to reach out for Matilda but with ease, she avoided his touch and slipped past him, hellbent on finding Harry. 

"Matilda!" His voice echoed throughout the empty rooms as he moved to catch up with Matilda. "Did you not hear me when I said that Harry is facing disciplinary action for his use of underage magic? Tell me, what're you expecting to do?" She refused to face him. "You don't think they'll turn on you once you wave that wand? Because they will. They've been waiting for years for you to mess up."

Matilda stopped, slowly turning to face her father. 

"The Ministry will not hesitate to rip you to shreds, Matilda, just to find a fault," he'd quieted voice, but his tone still held the seriousness of the situation they were in. "A reason to make an example out of you, someone who dares to go against them and continue to walk away unscathed and unpunished." Rueban finally admitted. "The slightest mistake you make will give them all the reason to go after you. And they will."

It was true. They've both have known this for a while now. But neither have spoken the fact out loud until now. It was no secret to anyone that Matilda Winters was beyond brilliant. And very dangerous. She would not be controlled. Matilda made her own rules and was guided by her own moral compass. Rules and guidelines made by others meant nothing to her. And that made her dangerous. She could not be conformed to what they wanted her to be. She could not be complicit.

And so, Matilda Winters had become a threat to the Ministry of Magic. 

Matilda glanced at her father. Her face showing no fear, she stood tall as she opened her mouth to speak, "I don't care."

There was a dark shadow in her eyes as she spoke. Some might have mistaken it for bravery or fearlessness. But Rueban had seen that shadow so many times before. It was not a look of courage. It was a challenge. Matilda was daring the Ministry to come after her. Because she wanted to see it crumble from the inside out. 

Matilda wanted to be the one to burn it to the ground and rebuild it on top of the ruins of the past. 

"We're leaving, Matilda," Rueban said suddenly. He wasn't supposed to have said anything about where or why they're leaving, but he knew he wasn't going to get Matilda to do anything without doing so. "And where we're going... he'll be there. You'll see Harry."

Matilda's darkened eyes softened back into the soft shade of blue. She once again met her father's gaze, this time her shoulders relaxed, and her expression no longer filled with anger, but instead, confusion. 

"Okay," she shrugged. "When do we leave?"

Hours later Matilda touched down right behind her father on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. 

Shivering, Matilda looked around. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps. 

Matilda's eyebrows furrowed as she took in her surroundings, "Forgive me. But I'm having a hard time believing that Harry is hiding out in some random abandoned house."

He lay a hand on Matilda's shoulder and walked with her from the patch of grass, across the road, and onto the pavement. 

The muffled pounding of a stereo was coming from an upper window in the nearest house. A pungent smell of rotting rubbish came from the pile of bulging bin-bags just inside the broken gate. 

"Here," Rueban handed a piece of parchment to Matilda and holding her lit wand close to it, so as to illuminate the writing. "Memorize this." 

Matilda looked down at the piece of paper. The narrow handwriting familiar. It said:

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. 

He pulled the piece of parchment out of Matilda's hand and set fire to it with his wand tip. As the message curled into flames and floated to the ground, Matilda looked around at the houses again. They were standing outside number eleven; she looked to the left and saw number ten; to the right, however, was number thirteen. 

"This is all a bit dramatic, isn't it?" asked Matilda. 

"Just let it sink in, Tilly," said Rueban.

Matilda rolled her eyes, but no sooner had she reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, than a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way. Matilda gaped at it. The stereo in number eleven thudded on. Apparently, the Muggles inside hadn't even felt anything.

"Come on, hurry," Rueban led Matilda on.

Matilda walked up the worn stone steps, staring at the newly materialized door. Its black paint was shabby and scratched. The silver doorknocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox.  

Rueban pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. Matilda heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open.

"Get in quick, Matilda," Rueban whispered. "But don't go far inside, and don't touch anything." 

Matilda sighed, "If you could just tell me what is going on..."

She stepped over the threshold into the almost total darkness of the hall. She could smell damp, dust, and a sweetish, rotting smell; the place had the feeling of a derelict building. She looked over her shoulder and saw her father walking in behind her, standing on the top step and releasing the balls of light; they flew back to their bulbs, and the square beyond glowed momentarily with orange light before Rueban stepped inside and closed the front door so that the darkness in the hall became complete. 

"Now stay still and quiet, while I give us a bit of light in here, "Rueban whispered. 

Rueban's hushed tone was giving Matilda an odd feeling of foreboding; it was as though they had just entered the house of a dying person. She heard a soft hissing noise and then old-fashioned gaslamps sputtered into life all along the walls, casting flickering insubstantial light over the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet of along, a gloomy hallway, where a cobwebby chandelier glimmered overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls. Matilda heard something scuttling behind the baseboard. Both the chandelier and the candelabra on a rickety table nearby were shaped like serpents.

There were hurried footsteps and Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasley, emerged from a door at the far end of the hall. She was beaming in welcome as she hurried toward them, though Matilda noticed that she was rather thinner and paler than she had been last time he had seen her. 

"Oh, Matilda it's lovely to see you!" she whispered pulling her into a rib-cracking hug before holding her at arm's length as to examine her. "Just as beautiful as the last time." 

She turned to Rueban who stood behind her and whispered urgently, "He's just left, the meeting's over..." 

Rueban, still behind Matilda nodded excitedly and began to step past Matilda toward the door through which Mrs. Weasley had just come, "Meeting? What meeting? Who just left?" 

Matilda stepped to follow her father, but Mrs. Weasley held her back. 

"We're eating down in the kitchen," Mrs. Weasley whispered, stopping them at the bottom of the stairs. "Tilly, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall, it's through this door here —"

CRASH.

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

"I'm sorry!" wailed Tonks, who was lying flat on the floor. "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over —"

Matilda had just opened her mouth to ask about the unknown Tonks, but her words were drowned by a horrible, earsplitting, blood-curdling screech. 

The moth-eaten velvet curtains had flown apart, but there was no door behind them. For a split second, Matilda thought she was looking through a window, a window behind which an old woman in a black cap was screaming and screaming as though she was being tortured — then she realized it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, she had ever seen in her life. 

The old woman was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed, and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits awoke and began to yell too, so that Matilda actually screwed up her eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over her ears.

Lupin, who she had just noticed, and Mrs. Weasley darted forward and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old woman, but they would not close and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at their faces. 

"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 —" 

The woman Matilda assumed to be Tonks apologized over and over again, at the same time dragging the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor. Mrs. Weasley abandoned the attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, Stunning all the other portraits with her wand. Then a man with long black hair came charging out of a door facing Matilda. 

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roared, seizing the curtain Mrs. Weasley had abandoned.

The old woman's face blanched. 

"Yoooou!" she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man."Blood traitor, abomination, the shame of my flesh!"  

"I said — shut — UP!" roared the man, and with a stupendous effort, he and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed again. 

The old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell.

Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out his familiar blue eyes, Sirius tuned to face Matilda.  

"Well," he said grimly. "I see you've met my mother." 

Matilda's eyes widened in horror as she stared at the closed curtains. Sirius's gaze shifted as someone stepped into the room behind her. 

"Hello Harry," he said. 

Matilda turned without a thought. Her breath hitching in her throat. She smiled when she came to face the boy with wire-rimmed glasses and green eyes. And she threw her arms around his neck, pulling herself harshly into Harry's chest. He's grown over the summer, she could tell. Matilda was standing on her tip-toes, still unable to meet his height. She savored this moment, relief flooding her as he appeared safely before her. 

"I've missed you."

Matilda's voice came out a soft whisper as she broke the hug she held him in. Though the smile lingered on her lips as she took in Harry's appearance, noting the small, slight changes. Taller, broader, and even more worn down than usual.

"Great to see you too, Tilly," Harry did his best to attempt a grin. 

Matilda had so much more to say to him. She had so many questions. Especially about the dementor attack and him facing trial. She also wished to know where they were at and why they were there. But Harry's gaze looked past her to Sirius. And so, knowingly, Matilda stepped aside. Her questions could wait... for now. Though she remained close by, carefully listening. 

"This is your ─"

"My dear old mum, yeah," said Sirius. "We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again." 

"But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?" Harry asked, bewildered, as they went through the door from the hall and led the way down a flight of narrow stone steps, the others just behind them. 

"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house," said Sirius."But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters — about the only useful thing I've been able to do."

Matilda, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius's voice sounded. She followed Harry and Sirius to the bottom of the stairs and through a door leading into the basement kitchen. 

It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of the room, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr.Weasley and his eldest son, Bill Weasley, were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.  

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. Her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired man, who wore horn-rimmed glasses, looked around and jumped to his feet. 

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley said, hurrying forward to greet him and shaking his hand vigorously. "Good to see you!"

Over Harry's shoulder, Matilda saw Bill, who still wore his long hair in a ponytail, hastily rolling up the lengths of parchment left on the table.  

Just as Bill walked, approaching to greet Harry, Arthur Weasley stepped before Matilda, hand extended. She accepted the greeting and shook the older man's hand, noting the similarity to Ron in his face. 

Ron. Matilda thought. She hadn't seen him yet. 

A woman, that Molly had called Tonks, walked over to help Bill and immediately sent a candle toppling onto the last piece of parchment. "Oh no — sorry —" 

"Here, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, sounding exasperated, and she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand: In the flash of light caused by Mrs. Weasley's charm, Matilda caught a glimpse of what looked like the plan of a building. 

Mrs. Weasley had seen her looking. She snatched the plan off the table and stuffed it into Bill's heavily laden arms. 

"This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings," she snapped before sweeping off toward an ancient dresser from which she started unloading dinner plates.

Bill took out his wand, muttered "Evanesco!" and the scrolls vanished. 

"Harry, Matilda, sit down," said Sirius. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you?" 

"Who?" asked Matilda.

The thing Matilda had taken to be a pile of rags gave a prolonged, grunting snore and then jerked awake. 

"Some'n say m' name?" Mundungus mumbled sleepily. "I 'gree with Sirius. . . ."

He raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused. Ginny Weasley giggled.

"The meeting's over, Dung," said Sirius, as they all sat down around him at the table. "Harry's arrived. As well as Rueban and Matilda Winters."

"Eh?" said Mundungus, peering balefully at Harry through his matted ginger hair. "Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah . . . you all right, 'Arry?"  

"Yeah," said Harry.

Mundungus fumbled nervously in his pockets, still staring at Harry, and pulled out a grimy black pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, ignited the end of it with his wand, and took a deep pull on it. Great billowing clouds of greenish smoke obscured him in seconds. 

"Owe you a 'pology," grunted a voice from the middle of the smelly cloud. 

"For the last time, Mundungus," called Mrs. Weasley, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!" 

"Ah," said Mundungus. "Right. Sorry, Molly." 

The cloud of smoke vanished as Mundungus stowed his pipe back in his pocket, but an acrid smell of burning socks lingered.

"And if you want dinner before midnight I'll need a hand," Mrs.Weasley said to the room at large. "No, you two can stay where you are, Harry and Matilda dears, you've both had a long journey —"  

"What can I do, Molly?" said Tonks enthusiastically, bounding forward. 

Mrs. Weasley hesitated, looking apprehensive. 

"Er — no, it's all right, Tonks, you have a rest too, you've done enough today —"

"No, no, I want to help!" said Tonks brightly, knocking over a chair as she hurried toward the dresser from which Ginny was collecting cutlery. 

Soon a series of heavy knives were chopping meat and vegetables of their own accord, supervised by Mr. Weasley, while Mrs. Weasleystirred a cauldron dangling over the fire and the others took out plates, more goblets, and food from the pantry. Harry and Matilda were left at the table with Sirius and Mundungus, who was still blinking mournfully atHarry. 

"No," said Harry, "I haven't seen anyone."

"See, I wouldn't 'ave left," said Mundungus, leaning forward, a pleading note in his voice, "but I 'ad a business opportunity —" 

Matilda felt something brush against her knees and started, but it was only Crookshanks, Hermione's bandy-legged ginger cat, who wound himself once around Matilda's legs, purring, then jumped onto Sirius'slap and curled up. Sirius scratched him absentmindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry.  

"Had a good summer so far?" 

"No, it's been lousy," said Harry. 

Matilda scrunched her face, turning to Sirius, "What kind of question was that?"

For the first time, something like a grin flitted across Sirius's face.

"Don't know what he's complaining about, myself."  

"What?" said Harry incredulously.

"Personally, I'd have welcomed a dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you've had it bad, at least you've been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights. . . I've been stuck inside for a month."  

Matilda scoffed, nodding in agreement. She too had been trapped inside her father's home all the while he deals with the mess of the Ministry, and a mess of more apparently, one that he thought not to tell Matilda of. 

"How come?" asked Harry, frowning.

"Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix . . . or so Dumbledore feels."  

There was something about the slightly flattened tone of voice in which Sirius uttered Dumbledore's name that told Matilda that Sirius was not very happy with the headmaster either.

"Yes well," said Matilda, sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she raised her eyebrows at Sirius. "At least you know what's going on."

"You don't know either?" asked Harry, turning to Matilda.

She shook her head, having just found out about this place, about some of these people. She'd been kept hidden, shadowed by the protection of her father's secrets. She hated it. Being in the dark, not knowing. It made her feel useless. 

"Oh yeah," said Sirius sarcastically. "Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time. . .asking me how the cleaning's going —" 

"What cleaning?" asked Harry. 

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," said Sirius, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in ages —" 

"Sirius?" said Mundungus, who did not appear to have paid any attention to this conversation, but had been minutely examining an empty goblet. "This solid silver, mate?"

"Yes," said Sirius, surveying it with distaste. "Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest." 

"That'd come off, though," muttered Mundungus, polishing it with his cuff.

"Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. 

Matilda, Harry, Sirius, and Mundungus looked around and, a split second later, dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air toward them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface, the flagon of butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere, and the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's righthand had been seconds before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" screamed Mrs. Weasley. "THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" said Fred, hurrying forward and wrenching the bread knife out of the table. "Sorry Sirius, mate — didn't mean to —"  

Harry and Sirius were both laughing. Matilda not so much as she smoothed out her skirt. Mundungus, who had toppled backward off his chair, was swearing as he got to his feet. Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under the dresser, from whence his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, "your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age —"

"— None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs.Weasley raged at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table and spilling almost as much again. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy —"  

She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden.

"Let's eat," said Bill quickly. 

"It looks wonderful, Molly," said Lupin, ladling stew onto a plate for her and handing it across the table. 

For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius and said, "I've been meaning to tell you, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing-room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out." 

"Whatever you like," said Sirius indifferently.

"The curtains in there are full of doxies too," Mrs. Weasley went on. "I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."  

"I look forward to it," said Sirius. Matilda heard the sarcasm in his voice, but she was not sure that anyone else did. 

Opposite Harry, Tonks was entertaining Hermione and Ginny by transforming her nose between mouthfuls. Her nose swelled to a beaklike protuberance like Snape's, shrank to something resembling a button mushroom, and then sprouted a great deal of hair from each nostril. Apparently, this was a regular mealtime entertainment, because after a while Hermione and Ginny started requesting their favorite noses. 

"Do that one like a pig snout, Tonks. . ."

Matilda did not entertain them to pay much attention, instead, she listened in elsewhere. Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Lupin were having an intense discussion about goblins.

Though Matilda didn't pay too much mind to any of the ongoing conversations. Not Tonks and her shapeshifting nose, or Bill's knowledge on the goblins, and she certainly kept away from Munjungus's story that currently made Ron double over, laughing, even clutching his ribcage.

Though the sight did bring a smile to Matilda's face. 

"Molly doesn't approve of Mundungus," said Sirius in an undertone.

"How come he's in the Order?" Harry said very quietly. 

"He's useful," Sirius muttered. "Knows all the crooks — well, he would, seeing as he's one himself. But he's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you."

Matilda hadn't eaten nearly as much as Harry. Three helpings of rhubarb crumble and custard later and he looked sickly full. Matilda, having not finished her second plate lay down her spoon in a lull in the general conversation. Mr. Weasley was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed, the woman Harry had told her was named Tonks was yawning widely, her nose now back to normal, and Ginny, who had lured Crookshanks out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling butterbeer corks for him to chase. 

"Nearly time for bed, I think," said Mrs. Weasley on a yawn. 

"Not just yet, Molly," said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Matilda. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to demand every bit of what's been going on for the past month. Yelling at everyone, scolding us for having kept you, and Harry, in the dark for so long." 

Matilda pursed her lips, considering Sirius's statement. He was right, of course, that is the first thing Matilda thought about doing. She wanted to yell and stomp her feet in annoyance and demand to know what kind of set-up she'd been brought into. But, at the last minute, just as Molly Weasley approached her, she decided against it. She didn't need to throw a tantrum. Not when she knew that she'd find everything out anyway. 

"Why would I do that?" asked Matilda cooly, shrugging her shoulders as she sat back in her chair, bring one leg to cross over the other. "I know I'll find out soon enough. I always do. Even if no one tells me. I'm somehow always in the know."

A devious smile curled the ends of Matilda's lips upward. A smile that many adults sitting around the old, cracked, wooden table recognized. Some even shuddered at the sight, forgetting that it was just a young, teenage girl sitting before them.

Sirius cleared his throat, breaking the small moment of silence that had fallen over the room. He cast his gaze downward at the dusty table, away from Matilda, then quickly back to Harry, "At the very least I thought you, Harry, would have questions about Voldemort."

The atmosphere in the room changed with rapidity. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort's name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary. 

"I did!" said Harry indignantly. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so —"

Matilda scrunched her nose, looking about the table, every adult wore a grim expression, "The Order?"

"And they're quite right," said Mrs. Weasley, purposefully ignoring Matilda's curious look. "You're too young." 

She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched upon its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone. 

Matilda didn't agree with Molly. Age should mean nothing anymore. At least her age. She is far from the twelve-year-old girl who sat in a bathroom stall making potions with Hermione Granger. Far from it. She's too far in. The things she knows she's capable of now. Age meant nothing when you could do the things she could. 

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" asked Sirius, as if reading Matilda's mind. "Matilda is the brightest mind I know. Information, knowledge is her power. Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happening."

Quickly Matilda sat up, uncrossing her legs and pointing across the table at Sirius, nodding her head with him, "No, see, because Sirius is exactly right," she said quickly, catching Rueban sucking in a sharp air of breath as he began slowly shaking his head, having known this was coming. "I'd like to hear what he has to say about ─"

"Hang on!" interrupted George loudly.

"How come Harry and Matilda suddenly get their questions answered?" said Fred angrily."We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said George. 

"'You're too young, you're not in the Order,' " said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's, making Matilda snicker quietly into her hand. "Neither Harry nor Matilda is even of age!" 

"Hey, watch your tongue," said Matilda, eyes narrowing on the twin Weasleys. 

She earned a shrug and a quiet sorry from George. 

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Sirius calmly. "That is your parents' decision," Sirius's eyes stray from the red-headed twins and to Matilda who sat uncharacteristically calm. "And well, Dumbledore decided for you, I suppose." He glanced at Rueban who shrugged in agreement. Dumbledore had instructed Rueban to keep Matilda safe behind his walls for as long as he's able to. "Harry, on the other hand ─"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" said Mrs.Weasley sharply. Her normally kindly face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight. 

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words. 

Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George's heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius. And Matilda sat, though seeming quite bored of the conversation, perplexed by the idea of Dumbledore stepping into her personal life. Making decisions that surpass him as her Head Master.  

No one, not a soul admires and respects Dumbledore more than the sharp-tongued Ravenclaw. She'd take his advice over anyone. But who was he to tell her father what to do with her? Who was he to make the decision that she not know about The Order... about Harry?

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," said Sirius. "But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back he has more right than most to —" 

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" said Mrs.Weasley. "He's only fifteen and —"

"─ and he ─ and we have dealt with as much as most in the Order," said Matilda, surprising even herself at the interruption. She motioned between herself and Harry, but also Ron and Hermione. She even nodded, acknowledging Ginny. "And I assume more than some." 

"No one is denying what all of you have faced," said Mrs. Weasley, forcing a calm and sweetened tone with Matilda. Though her fists trembled at the arms of her chair. "But Harry and all of you are still ─" 

"He's not a child!" said Sirius impatiently.

"He's not an adult either!" said Mrs. Weasley, the color rising in her cheeks. "He's not James, Sirius!"

Matilda hissed back a breath as her eyes widened. A sore, very sore subject to touch on. 

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," said Sirius coldly. 

"I'm not sure you are!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" said Harry. 

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!" said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. "You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?" demanded Sirius, his voice rising. 

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —"

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this if you please!" said Sirius loudly. 

"Arthur!" said Mrs. Weasley, rounding on her husband. "Arthur, back me up!"

Mr. Weasley did not speak at once. He took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly on his robes, not looking at his wife. Only when he had replaced them carefully on his nose did he say, "Dumbledoreknows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that he is staying at headquarters —" 

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!" 

Matilda was amused by the chaos. A small grin had upturned her lips and her head snapped between each speaking person, eyebrows raised, waiting to see who made the next personal jab. Rueban, from the other end of the table, had caught her eye. He too was grinning. When their gazes met, Rueban raised his eyebrows to his daughter and she mocked his expression, both of them clearly enjoying the scene before them. Both were grateful that it was not about his own parenting skills. 

Because Matilda would go to the ends of the earth to defend her father. 

"Personally," said Lupin quietly, looking away from Sirius at last, Mrs. Weasley turned quickly to him, hopeful that finally, she was about to get an ally, "I think it better that Harry gets the facts — not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture — from us, rather than a garbled version from . . . others." 

A happy sigh sounded from Matilda as Lupin's well-thought words sunk into the audience before him, she leaned forward, eyes locking on him, "Are you sure you can't come back to Hogwarts?" 

A grin spread across Lupin's wink, he didn't say anything but offered Matilda a wink before turning back to the rest of the table. She smiled too, before sitting back in her chair. 

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, "well . . . I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry's best interests at heart —" 

"He's not your son," said Sirius quietly. 

"He's as good as," said Mrs. Weasley fiercely. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!"

"Yes," said Mrs. Weasley, her lip curling. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"  

Matilda's eyes widened and Sirius started to rise from his chair. 

"Okay, Molly, you are not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," said Rueban calmly from his seat, speaking for the first time since this argument broke out. "Sirius, please sit down." 

Mrs. Weasley's lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white. 

"I know I am the last person who should be speaking on behalf of Harry at this table. I do not speak to sound like an authority figure to Harry. I am only going to say what I would about my own children," Rueban continued. "I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this. He's old enough to decide for himself."

Matilda smiled, proud of her father. 

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry said at once. 

"Yeah, I too would like to be informed," said Matilda, raising her hand slightly from her seat. She locked eyes with Rueban who had settled back into his chair. "And I'm not asking for permission."

Rueban nodded. He knew better than to deny this to Matilda. And he knew that even if he did keep these secrets from her, she'd find out in her own time. Perhaps her friends would tell her all they know, or she'd sleuth around and find out for herself. Matilda, Rueban knew better than anyone, had an extraordinary mind. Which made him all the more nervous when he's made to keep things from her. 

"Very well," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice cracking. "Ginny —Ron — Hermione — Fred — George — I want you out of this kitchen, now." 

There was instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George bellowed together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" shouted Ron. 

"Mum, I want to!" wailed Ginny. 

"NO!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, standing up, her eyes overbright. "I absolutely forbid —" 

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," said Mr. Weasley wearily."They are of age —"

"They're still at school —"

"But they're legally adults now," said Mr. Weasley in the same tired voice. 

Mrs. Weasley was now scarlet in the face. 

"I — oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron —"

"Harry and Matilda will tell me and Hermione everything anyway!" said Ron hotly. "Won't — won't you guys?" he added uncertainly, meeting Harry and Matilda's eyes. 

Ron was brave to assume Matilda would choose to tell anyone anything. Usually, she hoarded knowledge to herself, liking to be the smartest in the room. But things have changed over the years. She more often shared what she knew more than before. Offered her help in more way than one. Now, Ron was right, she'd tell them. 

"Yeah," said Matilda with a bored shrug, picking at her nails. "I'll tell em' both."

Ron's eyes darted back to Harry.

" 'Course I will," Harry said. 

Ron and Hermione beamed. 

"Fine!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

Ginny did not go quietly. They could hear her raging and storming at her mother all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hallMrs. Black's earsplitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke.  

"Okay, Harry . . . what do you want to know?" 

"What kind of question is that?" asked Matilda, rolling her eyes. "Literally everything. Tell us everything."

Sirius grinned, glancing at Rueban, they shared a nod, and Harry sucked in a breath.  

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news," he said, ignoring the renewed shudders and winces at the name, "and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything —"

"That's because there haven't been any suspicious deaths yet," said Sirius, "not as far as we know, anyway. . . . And we know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do anyway," said Lupin. 

"How come he's stopped killing people?" Harry asked. 

"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself at the moment," said Sirius. "It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, Harry messed it up for him," said Matilda, remembering the events of the last school year. 

Lupin nodded with a satisfied smile.  

"How?" Harry asked perplexedly.

"You weren't supposed to survive!" said Sirius. "Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted to be alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore," said Lupin. "And the two of you," Lupin nodded between Harry and Matilda," made sureDumbledore knew at once."   

"How has that helped?" Harry asked.

"Are you kidding?" said Bill incredulously. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!" 

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Pheonix about an hour after Voldemort returned," said Sirius. 

"So what's the Order been doing?" said Matilda, looking around at them all. 

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," said Sirius.

"And how do you know what his plans are?" Matilda asked quickly.  

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," said Rueban, "and Dumbledore'sshrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate." 

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?" Hermione mustered up the courage to ask. 

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again," said Sirius. "In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful DeathEaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."  

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?" guessed Ron. 

"We're doing our best," said Lupin.

"How?" 

Matilda crossed her arms again.

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," said Bill. "It's proving tricky, though." 

"Why?" Harry spoke again.

"Because of the Ministry's attitude," said Tonks. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it happened." 

"But why?" said Harry desperately. "Why's he being so stupid? IfDumbledore —"

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," said Mr. Weasleywith a wry smile. "Dumbledore."  

"Even I know Fudge is a coward. Especially when it comes to Dumbledore, he's outright frightened," Matilda all but scoffed. 

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" said Harry incredulously.

"Frightened of what he's up to," said Mr. Weasley. "You see, Fudgethinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic." 

"But Dumbledore doesn't want —" 

"Of course he doesn't," said Mr. Weasley. "He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job." 

"Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice," said Lupin. "But it seems that he's become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that?" said Harry angrily. "How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I'd make it all up?"

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," said Rueban bitterly. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him." 

"You see the problem," said Lupin. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the DailyProphet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumormongering, so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse." 

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" said Harry, looking around at Mr. Weasley, Sirius, Rueban, Bill, Mundungus, Lupin, and Tonks. "You're letting people know he's back?" 

They all smiled humorlessly.

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand-Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" said Sirius restlessly.  

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," said Lupin. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

"Rueban, Tonks, and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," said Sirius, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry because you can bet Voldemort will have them." 

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though," said Mr.Weasley. "Tonks here, for one — she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset too. He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet." 

"But if none of you's putting the news out that Voldemort'sback —" Harry began. 

"Who said none of us was putting the news out?" said Sirius. "Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?" 

"What d'you mean?" Matilda asked quickly.

"They're trying to discredit him," said Lupin. "Didn't you see theDaily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort'sreturn. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too." 

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," said Bill, grinning. 

"It's no laughing matter," said Mr. Weasley shortly, wiping Matilda's own grin off her face. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field." 

"But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters, it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?" asked Harry desperately.

"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry," said Sirius. "He tricks, jinxes, and blackmails them. He's well-practiced at operating in secrecy. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in, he's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on them at the moment."  

"What's he after apart from followers?" Harry asked swiftly.

Matilda thought she saw Sirius and Lupin exchange the most fleeting of looks before Sirius said, "Stuff he can only get by stealth."  

When they all continued to look puzzled, Sirius said, "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time." 

"When he was powerful before?" asked Ron.

"Yes." 

"Like what kind of weapon?" said Harry. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ?"

Matilda scoffed, shaking her head, finding humor in Harry's cluelessness, "Harry, if you think that curse is the worst kind of weapon a person can have, then I have a lot to fill you in on."

"Tell me," Harry's eyes went wide.

Matilda opened her mouth to speak, but a voice that was not hers sounded through the dining room. 

"That's enough."

Mrs. Weasley spoke from the shadows beside the door. Matilda had not noticed her return from taking Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious.  

"I want you in bed, now. All of you," she added, looking around at Fred, George, Ron, and Hermione.

"You can't boss us —" Fred began

"Watch me," snarled Mrs. Weasley. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. "You've given them plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct them into the Orderstraightaway."  

"Well, I'm not opposed," said Matilda, shrugging.

"Yeah, why not?" said Harry quickly. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight —"

"No."

It was not Mrs. Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin. 

"The Order is comprised only of overage wizards," he said. "Wizards who have left school," he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you. . . I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough." 

Liars. Matilda thought. They were all lying. Or at least, avoiding the truth ─ avoiding the inevitable. Matilda knew, at least she understood.

"Oh please, don't pretend as if the lot of you don't already know what this fight is going to come to," said Matilda, a humorless grin spreading across her lips. She shook her head at all of them, disappointed. "Voldemort will come for Harry, we all know it. Harry will have to fight ─ to kill even. Better to prepare now than to wait for the inevitable." 

Rueban rose from his chair, "Tilly..."

But Matilda ignored her father's soft, warning tone and continued, standing from her own chair.

"No, because I'm right, and all of you know it," she told them all. "It will come down to Harry and Voldemort. It always does. And like always, I'll be there too. I have no doubt Ron and Hermione will too. We all end up fighting, and if you don't want to teach us, fine, your mistake. But just know your protection is only a mask, it's a lie based on naive hope."

No one spoke. Still, they refused to acknowledge the truth. 

Sirius was half-shrugged but did not argue. Mrs. Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Hermione. One by one they stood up and Matilda, recognizing defeat, followed suit. 

ϟ

AN:// a long and boring first chapter back.

I'm sorry it took me so long to get this up. I went through some serious writer's block with this story. This chapter went through SEVEN rewrites. So, though a bit uneventful, I do hope you enjoy it. 

And do let me know your 5th-year theories?

As always, comment and vote please, and remember, I love you.