Discovery

55.

I woke up with a fright when I saw a large shadow standing over me. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized it was Professor McGonagall.

"What are you doing here, Professor?" I asked in the calmest voice I could manage.

"There has been an emergency." she replied. "You need to come with me immediately."

My heart skipped a beat. Was it mum? Miranda? Sirius? Fred?

We quickly exited the dormitory and met Fred, George, and Ginny in the common room. Professor McGonagall instructed us to follow her.

"What's going on?" Fred questioned, looking panicked.

"Harry has seen a vision." she said, not glancing back at us. "He believes your father has been gravely injured."

The faces of Fred, George, and Ginny went white. I reached for Fred's hand.

We entered Dumbledore's office and saw Harry and Ron looking just as frightened.

"Harry — what's going on?" asked Ginny. "Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad hurt —"

"Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore. "He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. You will meet your mother there. Ella, your mother knows you are coming as well."

"How're we going?" asked Fred, looking shaken. "Floo powder?"

"No," said Dumbledore, "Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey." He indicated an old kettle lying on his desk. "We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back. . . . I wish to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you —"

There was a flash of flame in the very middle of the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor.

"It is Fawkes's warning," said Dumbledore, catching the feather as it fell. "She must know you're out of your beds. . . . Minerva, go and head her off — tell her any story —"

Professor McGonagall was gone in a flash.

"He says he'll be delighted," said a bored voice behind Dumbledore; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of a Slytherin banner. "My great-great-grandson has always had odd taste in houseguests. . . ."

"Come here, then," Dumbledore said to us. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us . . ."

Everyone gathered around Dumbledore's desk.

"You have all used a Portkey before?" asked Dumbledore, and we nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. "Good. On the count of three then . . . one . . . two . . .three,"

I felt as if I was being carried away by wind. My surroundings blurred, and everything was spinning. Suddenly, my feet hit the ground so hard that my knees buckled. The kettle clattered to the ground.

Somewhere close, a voice said, "Back again, the blood traitor brats, is it true their father's dying . . . ?"

"OUT!" roared a second voice.

I stood up and looked around; we had arrived in the gloomy kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the fire and one candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper.

Kreacher was disappearing through the door to the hall; Sirius was hurrying toward them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; it smelled like he had been drinking.