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AFTER they left, I went back upstairs to where everyone was, played a few games until I decided that the only way to pass the time was to take a nap.
I didn't know how long I was out but I was rudely awoken by loud screaming coming from the other room. It wasn't the type the type screaming you hear on average; this one was in full rage, put up to the highest volume, intending the words to slap a face.
It took me a few minutes to realize that it was Harry's voice. I yawned and rubbed the sleep away from my eyes, mentally cursing them for not waking up.
I stomped towards the source of his voice. The closer I got, the more my face grew into a scowl as my ears tried to withstand his screaming. Maybe that's why they didn't want to wake me, because when I wake up I'm always so grumpy all the time. But being woken up by a jittery Hermione was better than being woken up by a screaming Harry.
"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER—"
When I opened the door to Ron's room, I was greeted by a very emotional sight. Hermione's eyes were watering, Ron was staring at his friend, completely appalled, and Harry was crimson with rage. If only there was steam that came out from his ears the look would've been complete.
To say I was baffled was an understatement. It was always a rare sight to see Harry so mad and angry. In a way, it almost scared me and I got the sudden urge to to walk away. But I tried to put myself in his shoes, to picture myself locked up in a house I didn't want to be in with no answers from anyone at all.
Neither of them seemed to realize that I was standing by the door with raised eyebrows but before I could open my mouth to speak they began talking again.
"We wanted to—" Ron interjected.
"Harry, we're really sorry!" Hermione looked ready to drop down to her knees and beg for his forgiveness.
Harry took a deep breath and walked away from the two of them, trying to control his anger by distracting himself.
I counted to ten then I spoke. "What's going on here?"
All three heads turned to look at me, Ron and Hermione with immense relief and Harry with an unreadable expression.
"Hello, Harry," I greeted testily, mentally preparing myself in case he decided to blow up on me too.
"What is this place anyways?" Harry managed to ask, his voice much calmer and more tamed than earlier, but still not completely forgiving.
"Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," I replied, walking into the room to sit on the bed.
Harry looked at us blankly, "Is anyone going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix—"
"It's a secret society," Hermione spoke up quickly, not wanting to diffuse Harry's ticking bomb of an anger again. "Dumbledore's in charge, he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time."
