Remember | June Potter and the Battle of the Ministry | Book Four |

Chapter Three

Chapter Three: The Order of the Pheonix

　　"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 and June paused upon the steps, holding up the group that waited behind her. Had he really not listened? Or had she been talked over, because she had told him earlier that the new Order Headquarters was situated with Sirius' parents' home.

　　"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house," Sirius explained. "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."

　　The bitterness in Sirius's voice didn't go unnoticed. June was well aware of Sirius's resentment of still being a fugitive, and an Order member but unable to participate in missions. Trapped in the house he had spent his formative years despising. His hatred remained for it after the thirteen years imprisoned. But, unfortunately, it was the only house he could live freely. His face had been spread all over both Muggle and Wizarding news outlets two years ago after his escape, and at the end of her second year, Sirius had had a chance at normalcy with Peter Pettigrew in custody but due to multiple circumstances, he had managed to get away, bashing any hope they had.

　　Now his freedom came with a price. To remain free Sirius had to trap himself within a house that held little unsullied memories, unable to help with missions or recruitment. Sirius had been made to feel like a great help before the order had truly claimed the place as its Headquarters. Before the Weasleys arrived. Within the first two weeks of her stay, Sirius helped June settle into Grimmauld Place, talking on an uncle roll as he helped her carry her trunk up the stairs, then helped her decorate the room so she could feel more at home. The man had even helped Remus come clean about being June's godfather. But, when Molly Weasley came around her mothering nature overtook him, unintentionally, and then the Order of the Phoenix meetings revealed to him that he could be no help other than for the protected home he could provide.

　　She had felt apologetic, but admittedly she had chosen to hang around Remus more in an effort to get to know him more. She found that most of her interaction with the man had been to air out her frustrations over the Order's stupidity over Harry, and her frustrations with Dumbledore. It was never intentional but with him trapped within the house, he was the easiest target to complain to. It was easier to take it out on the person who was there, the person who made himself available for her. She couldn't have helped his mood over the month.

　　Mrs Weasley cleared her throat as she and the group of students entered the basement kitchen to alert Bill and Mr Weasley of their presence. No doubt the two had been continuing a discussion from the meeting, chatting quietly with their heads together at the end of the table. Goblets, empty wine bottles, rolls of parchment, and a heap of rags litter the wooden table, a normal occurrence after an Order meeting. Since the Order had started meeting in the kitchen the table that once held five chairs comfortably now crammed many chairs, enough to seat the gaggle of Weasleys, her, Harry, Sirius, Remus, Hermione, Tonks and occasionally James, his mother and sister along with any few stray Order members.

　　Mr Weasley, a thin, balding, red-haired man who wore horn-rimmed glasses jumped to his feet.

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

　　June tried to push her way through the gap between Harry and the corner to get to her seat before anyone had the chance to steal it. The strays of Order members had made it a habit much to her annoyance. Bill chuckled at her, hastily rolling up the lengths of parchment left on the table, she knew better than to look but the temptation always gripped her as she beelined for her favourite chair (the Order member on clean-up duty always managed to roll it up before she managed a sliver of a glance). Bill's long ginger hair still was pulled back into a ponytail no matter the comments made by his mother, though June couldn't help but think the style could do with a few sets of small braids (she had insisted upon it many times).