"Can I call you Tori? You know Tori, I'm a great friend."
"I don't get it, why are you being nice to me?"
"Maybe I don't want to see you friendless."
When Victoria Silvers, who comes from a long line of Slytherins, is sorted into Gryffindor her life...
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The shock of losing Mad-Eye hung over the house in the days that followed; Tori kept expecting to see him stumping in through the back door like the other Order members, who passed in and out to relay the news.
Work was getting harder and harder on Tori. Tonks was feeling ill and didn't seem to be fully emotionally stable so she missed several days. Tori didn't blame her, it just things a lot harder.
Tori took a seat next to Fred, only to have to squeeze in with George as well. The kitchen was so crowded that evening it was difficult to maneuver knives and forks.
"No news about Mad-Eye?" Harry asked Bill.
"Nothing," replied Bill.
They had not been able to hold a funeral for Moody, because Bill and Lupin had failed to recover his body. It had been difficult to know where he might have fallen, given the darkness and the confusion of the battle.
"The Daily Prophet hasn't said a word about him dying or about finding the body," Bill went on. "But that doesn't mean much. It's keeping a lot quiet these days."
"And they still haven't called a hearing about all the underage magic I used escaping the Death Eaters?" Harry called across the table to Mr. Weasley, who shook his head.
"Because they know I had no choice or because they don't want me to tell the world Voldemort attacked me?"
"The latter, I think. Scrimgeour doesn't want to admit that You-Know-Who is as powerful as he is, nor that Azkaban's seen a mass breakout." Tori said, cutting into her chicken.
"Yeah, why tell the public the truth?" said Harry, clenching his knife so tightly that the faint scars on the back of his right hand stood out, white against his skin: I must not tell lies. Tori couldn't help but glance down at her own. Silvers are Slytherins.
"Isn't anyone at the Ministry prepared to stand up to him?" asked Ron angrily.
"Of course, Ron, but people are terrified," Arthur replied, "Terrified that they will be next to disappear, their children the next to be attacked! There are nasty rumors going around; I for one don't believe the Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts resigned. She hasn't been seen for weeks now. Meanwhile, Scrimgeour remains shut up in his office all day; I just hope he's working on a plan."
There was a pause in which Molly magicked the empty plates onto the work surface and served apple tart.
"We must decide 'ow you will be disguised, 'Arry," said Fleur, once everyone had pudding. "For ze wedding," She added, when he looked confused. "Of course, none of our guests are Death Eaters, but we cannot guarantee zat zey will not let something slip after zey 'ave 'ad champagne."
"Yes, good point," said Molly from the top of the table where she sat, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, scanning an immense list of jobs that she had scribbled on a very long piece of parchment. "Now, Ron, have you cleaned out your room yet?"
