CHAPTER FIVE —
The Order of the Phoenix
“Y-Your -?” I stuttered.
“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 we went through the door from the hall and led the way down a flight of narrow stone steps, the others just behind us.
“Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house,” said Sirius. “I offered it to Dumbledore for Headquarters - about the only useful thing I've been able to do.”
“Sirius.” I said, stopping briefly, “You have a daughter?”
“Yes.” He said, walking still. I followed again, trying to catch up with his quick pace.
“Well, who is she?” Harry asked, sounding even more curious than me.
“Now is not the time to discuss that!” Sirius snapped, “I will have this conversation with you when I feel the time is appropriate.”
I had expected a better welcome and duly noted how hard and bitter Sirius's voice sounded. We followed him to the bottom of the steps 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 them, 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 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! And you, Dearest Acacia! You are growing well. Prettier and prettier each time I see you!” He said, pinching my cheek playfully and patting my back.
Across the room sat Bill, who still wore his long hair in a ponytail, hastily rolling up the lengths of parchment left on the table.
“Did you two journey all right?” Bill called, trying to gather up twelve scrolls at once. “Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?”
“He tried,” said Tonks, striding over to help Bill and immediately toppling a candle on to 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 I caught a glimpse of what looked like the plan of a building.
Mrs. Weasley had seen me looking. She snatched the plan off the table and stuffed it into Bill's already overlade arms.
“This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings,” she snapped, before sweeping off towards an ancient dresser from which she started unloading dinner plates.
Bill took out his wand, muttered, “Evanesco!” and the scrolls vanished.
“Sit down, Harry,” said Sirius. “You've met Mundungus, haven't you?”
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Girl Who Survived: Book Two {Harry Potter: Order of Phoenix}
Fanfiction[BOOK TWO] Acacia Ivory. What do you think of when you hear that name? For many wizards, they think of a very famous, very powerful witch, who attends Hogwarts. For one dark wizard in particular, it strikes fear into his very core. Why? Because, she...
