Obliviate My Rebellion {Book 3}

5. The Order's dinner

"Right," Hermione said. "I'll go make sure Harry hasn't killed anyone. I'll call you when it's time for dinner."

Hermione gave me one last smile, and headed out of the bedroom. I sat in silence for a few moments, trying to wrap my head around what could be wrong with me.

I knew I was awfully down recently, because of all that happened. But I didn't even dream that my grief would spawn into something much darker and dangerous...

Wanting my mind distracted, I picked up one of my books. But my mind was restless, and I kept reading the same sentence over and over again. The word kept creeping into my head at inconvenient moments, a dark whisper that I couldn't control.

I was almost glad when I heard Hermione call from downstairs. I headed down the many stairs, towards the many chattering voices. I took a deep breath before I entered the kitchen. It wasn't written over my face, I would pretend everything was normal.

I had to.

"Ah, there you are!" Mrs Weasley said with a smile as I entered the kitchen. She flipped her wand, and a piece of parchment containing what appeared to be building plans rolled up. "We thought you weren't coming."

Everybody was at the table, and the buzz of voices made me relax slightly. "What was on the parchment?" I asked.

Mrs Weasley thrust the parchment into Bill Weasley's arms. "Just order things, dearie. Nothing to worry about."

Bill took out his wand, muttered, 'Evanesce!' and the scrolls vanished.

I sat down in-between Lacey and Hollie, who was in a lengthly conversation with Hermione about elf rights. I could already tell that they were going to get on.

"Sit down, Harry." said Sirius. "You've met Mundungus, haven't you? Rory, I'm sure you have, right?"

"No," I replied. "I haven't."

I saw Harry look at me sideways, but I avoided looking at him. I was going to pretend my outburst didn't happen. He was only going to shout at me, or even worse--judge me.

What I thought was a pile of rags gave a prolonged, grunting snore, then jerked awake.

"Some'n say m'name?" Mundungus mumbled sleepily. "I agree with Sirius . . ." He raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused.

Ginny and Hollie giggled.

"The meeting's over, Dung," said Sirius, as they all sat down around him at the table. "Harry's arrived."

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

"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 within seconds.

"Owe you an your sister 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 can stay where you are, Harry dear, you've had a long journey."