Chronicles
Part 4
Minisinoo

10. Nightmares

Nightmares were nothing new to Harry, of course, and even if he hadn't seen Dumbledore fall, hadn't seen the destruction of the Hufflepuff changing room that had resulted from that last battle between a mortally wounded Headmaster and the Death Eater Crouch, Harry had a good imagination.  Cedric had never told him about what he and Viktor had found when they'd found Dumbledore, not in specifics -- but Krum had.  'I am thinking you have earned to know," Krum had said, and mostly, Harry had appreciated that.

Except when he dreamed about it.

Nonetheless, those nightmares were of the ordinary sort, arising from imagination and anxiety.

Harry suffered another sort of nightmare entirely -- had since last year.  In these, he saw flashes -- not usually long, but very vivid -- of places he'd never been to and people he'd never met.  For instance, he'd seen the graveyard that Voldemort had spirited him away to before he'd ever actually arrived there.  He wasn't at all certain what to make of these nightmares.  Were they premonitions or something else? Was he somehow seeing what Voldemort saw? Feeling what he felt? A few had even happened while he'd been wide awake.  Suddenly, he'd been . . . somewhere else -- twice at the Dursleys' and once since arriving at Grimmauld Place.  Mostly they conveyed a sense of Voldemort's mood.  which had ranged from ecstatic when the Death Eaters had been freed from Azkaban, to frustrated, to outright furious.  Lately, however, Harry thought Voldemort mostly frustrated.

He hadn't told anybody about these flashes, not even Ron.  "My scar hurts," was all he'd say if somebody caught him rubbing it.  Ron seemed to accept that at face value, but he doubted Hermione did.  She didn't press, however.  And Harry hadn't had an extended 'dream' experience -- one where he saw an event unfold -- since the previous year ...  those nightmares of the murdered caretaker and the graveyard.  He hadn't even seen anything the night the Death Eaters had attacked him and the Ministry both, nor felt anything beyond the prickling of his scar.

Thus, when he first slid up from a deep sleep into a dream of whispering hedges in the dimness and Fleur's far-off scream, which transformed into a long hallway in a dungeon echoing with distant shouts and the piercing wail of a woman, he didn't initially realize it was anything other than a normal nightmare.  There were people opposing him, closing him off from what he most desired as the hedges had hid the cup from him.  He wasn't content just to find his way through but raised his wand to blast past the door blocking him, and the men blocking the door, engaged in a duel to the death.  His wordless hex threw them both twenty feet away down the corridor that ran at an angle like an L.  The door -- the door -- stood at the bend.

"APERIO!" he commanded, focusing all his will on it.  He felt the wards tremble, resist, throb, then buckle.

The door exploded into wood and iron shrapnel that flayed anyone not behind his Shielding Spell -- including the two men in the hall, and if one had been his own, then it was too bad but he'd been a fool to rush ahead.

Gleeful and triumphant, he strolled into the room beyond, his followers at his back.  "Subsisto!" he ordered the central chamber before it could even begin to spin.

It was only a matter of time now until he reached the Hall, and his laughter bounced off the stone walls.

Scar on fire, searing him with pain, Harry shot up in bed, abruptly awake even as the door burst open to reveal Sirius in a dressing gown, lit candle raised.  "Harry!" he shouted.  "Get up and get your wand!"

Still gasping, certain something horrible had happened -- horrible for their side -- Harry sat up in bed.  Ron, sleeping in the other bed, was stirring too.  "What's going on?" he asked, hand raised against the candle.

"The Ministry is under attack again," Sirius replied, voice tense.  "A full-scale assault this time."

Hermione and Ginny slipped under Sirius's arm and into the room, both had their wands drawn and their faces were white.  Krum was with Sirius as well, Harry noticed, dressed in a sleep-shirt and track bottoms, his wand out, and both the twins, neither of whom looked amused in the least.  Sirius ushered them all inside.  To Krum and the twins, he said, "You know what to do?"  They all nodded, and he finished, "Whatever happens, don't open this door until I do."

And it slammed shut.

"A full-scale assault?" Harry asked, looking from Krum to a grim-faced Fred.

"The Order went to help at the Ministry," Fred replied, "all but a few.  Mum, Sirius and Snape are downstairs."  Fred's lip curled.  "Snape daren't show up at the Ministry or he'd have to fight against us instead of with us since he's supposedly our spy with the Death Eaters, but I'd rather he wasn't here.  For all we know, he might let You-Know-Who in."

"Fred," Hermione admonished.

"We don't trust the bastard," George told her.

"He couldn't let anybody in even if he wanted to," Hermione told them.  "He's not the Secret Keeper.  If you really doubt him, then it's best for him to be here, where he can't help Vol-Voldemort."

Everybody winced except Harry and Krum.

"If house is breached," Krum added, "if we hear fighting, we Disapparate you to preset place."

Fred shot him a poisonous glance.  "We're not leaving our mother."

"So you die with her and she die for nothing?" Krum snapped back.  "Do not talk stupid.  They will give us time."

"I want to fight," Harry said -- protested.  "I don't want to run, I want to fight!"

"You not ready," Krum said in a voice that brooked no argument.

"I've faced him three times before!"

"I will not argue this."

"Harry," Hermione broke in, "listen to Viktor."

Harry didn't get a chance to reply because the door opened again, revealing Cedric, who also looked as if he'd been dragged out of bed, but had to have come from his own house.  Wordlessly, Sirius shut the door behind him.

"So they boxed us all up in one room, I see," Fred said, clearly angry still.  "All the kids."

"I am not kid," Krum replied.

"And you think we are?" George started but another blinding flash of pain pierced Harry's scar and with it a flood of such rage he cried out himself.

"What is it?  Harry, what is it?"  He could barely make out Hermione's voice before he passed out.

11. The Order of the Phoenix

When Harry crumpled, Cedric leapt forward even as Ron caught Harry in his arms, placing him on a bed.  Cedric backed off whilst Ron and Hermione leaned over him, but Harry was already stirring, then sat up with Ron's assistance.  "What happened?" Hermione asked him.

Harry was rubbing his scar.  "Voldemort's really angry about something.  I don't think the attack is going in his favour."

"Well, that's good news," George said.

"Assuming he doesn't then try to come here," Hermione pointed out.  "We still have no idea what he was after."

"After?  He just wants to bring down the Ministry," Fred replied.

"No, I don't think he does, or not like you mean," Hermione said, glancing at Krum who, Cedric noticed, was watching the door, not looking at her.  "I think . . . well, I think he's after something specific."  She hesitated, then asked, "Viktor?"

"Do not ask me, mila."

"Please," she said even as Fred went over to get right in Krum's face, demanding, "Tell us.  Our mum's down there risking her life, and our dad went to the Ministry.  We have a right to know.  Harry has a right to know too."

"My mum's down there as well," Cedric snapped, annoyed at the twins' posturing.  "And my dad also went to the Ministry."

Krum just frowned, eyes still on the door, not the rest of them.  "I cannot.  I cannot.  But . . . Hermione, she is clever witch.  That, I can say."

"Bloody hell," Fred muttered, turning away to stand beside George, whose arms were crossed.

Hand still on his brow, Harry said, "He is after something.  I don't know what, but it's in the Ministry basement, whatever it is." 

Cedric shared a glance with the Weasleys.  "The basement?  That's -- "

"-- the Department of Mysteries," Fred finished.

"That's the same place he attacked last time!" Harry said.  "He wants a weapon, like we thought before."

"It could very well be," Hermione agreed, face thoughtful.  "Anything he thinks might give him an advantage."

But Cedric was watching Viktor, not Ron, Harry or Hermione, and Viktor remained by the door as if listening, face tense.  Cedric joined him.  "Are they coming here next, do you think?" he asked.  His whole body felt numb with fear -- for his mother, himself, Harry, the rest of them . . . but for his father most of all.  His father was in the thick of it; he could die tonight.

Viktor just shrugged.  "I am not knowing."  But he was fingering his wand.  "We are not fighting.  We are to Apparate them away."

"I know.  Dad told me when he and mum sent me here."

Viktor just nodded back, then gripped Cedric's shoulder, as if he could guess Cedric's worries.  The whole room had fallen silent, tense, waiting, eyes on the door.  There was no sound from outside.  Minutes crawled by like a march of ants.  Cedric could feel his palms sweating, his wand slick against them.  Was battle always like this?  Wait, wait, wait until that moment when it all exploded?

There was an abrupt crack in the room behind and everybody swung around, eight wands levelled on the figure appearing there.  Moody grinned at them in approval.  "Good show."

"What happened?" erupted from several different throats at once, followed by, "Is my dad all right?" from Cedric and, "What about our dad?" from the Weasleys.

Moody held up a hand.  "It's over.  For now.  Ministry's a mess, but it's over.  Amos and Arthur are fine; most of the Order is fine, in fact.  Voldemort got Robards and a good dozen others -- not all Aurors -- but we foiled him.  McGonagall's been called in by Scrimgeour for an emergency consult.  He doesn't think Hogwarts is safe to open right now.  Diggory, I want to talk to you; come with me.  The rest of you, stand down."

And he headed for the door, gripping Cedric by the sleeve of his nightshirt and hauling him after.  Baffled, Cedric blinked at the rest, who seemed equally startled, but then he was out the door behind Moody and Sirius was going in, looking vastly relieved.

Moody took him up to the library and spelled the door locked behind them, then cast a Muffling Charm.  "All right, Diggory, we've run out of time here.  I need you in the Order yesterday, so out with this secret of yours."

His face was serious and hard.  This time, Cedric thought, he wasn't going to accept a 'no,' and not feeling ready for this -- still on edge from the scare they'd just had -- Cedric took a deep breath.  "I . . . ah . . . well, um -- "

"Spit it out, boy."

"I'm gay."

Tentatively, he lifted his eyes from his shoes to Moody's face.  The eyebrow over Moody's good eye had lifted.  "That's all?  You're gay?  And by that I assume you don't mean you're happy?"

"No, er, I'm -- well, I fancy boys more than girls."

"Yeah, thought so.  But that's it?  There's nothing else?"

"That's it," Cedric confirmed, feeling a mixture of both relief and surprise that Moody wasn't more shocked.

In fact, Moody breathed out in an explosion.  "Dammit all, Diggory, why didn't you just say that a week ago?  That's nothing."

Cedric fumbled.  "I -- well, it's, erm, you know . . . "

Moody fixed him with the magical, electric blue eye.  "I don't care what you fuck -- girls, boys, or the goat in the field --" which made Cedric snort in shock "-- as long as it's nothing Voldemort can use.  Who're you sleeping with?"

Cedric blinked.  "Nobody."  At Moody's sceptical look, he added, "Really!  Nobody!"

"Who have you slept with then?"

"Ah -- nobody."

"Diggory -- "

"Honestly!  Nobody."

"Don't lie to me, boy.  You're too pretty to be a virgin."

"I'm not lying!" Cedric said, slightly offended because Moody was right about him lying.

"So how do you know you like boys then?"

"I just . . . do.  I tried dating a girl to see.  It sort of . . . well, flopped.  You knew you liked girls before you slept with one, didn't you?"  Abruptly, Cedric realized he'd just assumed and one would think that he, of all people, would know better.

But to his relief, Moody didn't argue, seemed satisfied, in fact.  "So who knows you're queer?"

"Harry.  Er, Viktor -- and I think Hermione, although I didn't tell her."

"That's all?"  Moody seemed astonished.  "I didn't just mean in the Order."

"I know.  But that's all."  Frustrated, he snapped, "It's not something I've exactly gone about announcing!"

Still studying him long and hard, Moody finally drawled, "Well, I reckon that's why you're still a virgin."  Pulling in his chin, he asked a final time, "But that's it?  That's your big secret?"

Lips thin at what he felt a callous dismissal of the seriousness of it, Cedric said, "That's it."

"Fine.  We're voting you in tonight, and I don't care how much Molly or your mum object.  Now, listen to me.  There's a serious matter afoot and not everybody's agreed on what we should do about it.  Protecting you kids is all well and good -- except if we're all dead and Harry's been kept from things he needs to know."

"Yes, sir," Cedric said, wondering what had been kept from Harry.

"Can't say more right now," Moody told him.  "The Order will be assembling downstairs in the kitchen in about an hour.  I don't want you going anywhere, Diggory.  And when it comes to those matters that Harry's being kept in the dark about, well, I think you might have a thing or two to say." 

Cedric's eyebrow went up and -- carefully -- he asked, "Sir, er, with all due respect, what if . . . well, what if my opinion is different from yours?  I want to be brought in because you think I'm old enough to make that choice -- and I am old enough -- but not to, well, swing a vote."

Rather than grow irritated as Cedric had feared, Moody just grinned and slapped Cedric's arm.  "And that, Diggory, is what I like best about you.  When it comes down to it, you speak your mind, even if you are too bloody polite for your own good.  And I want you to do the same thing on the vote.  I think I know what you'll say because I've heard you voice similar -- but I'm not telling you how I want you to vote.  Not precisely.  And I don't want you in the Order because I want your vote.  Now go back up to the room and tell Krum we're meeting as soon as enough of the Order is here to form a quorum."

Somewhat appeased, Cedric nodded and returned to the room, although not everybody was still there.  "Where are the twins and Ginny?" Cedric asked.

"They went off to conspire," Hermione replied.  She, Ron, Harry and Krum remained.

"What'd Moody want?" Harry asked, a bit suspiciously.

With Ron there, Cedric didn't feel free to say, although the rest knew his secret.  "Um, he just wanted to talk about the Order with me.  They're, well -- he's going to try and make them let me in.  Viktor, he asked me to tell you there will be a meeting as soon as enough people get back to the house."

Even as he related this, they could hear the front door opening below and the portrait began shrieking as what sounded like a large number of persons entered.  It almost drowned out Harry's mutter, "Of course you'll get in, but not me."

Hermione first shot Harry an exasperated glance, then turned to look up at Cedric with the same questioning look that Krum had turned on him.  Not sure how to explain the rest, he simply nodded, and Krum at least nodded in return, expression satisfied.

It was another half hour before Arthur Weasley appeared in the doorway of the room Harry shared with Ron to say, "Viktor, we're about to begin."  Cedric started to rise as well, but Mr. Weasley held up a hand.  "Not yet, son.  Someone'll fetch you if you're needed."  Cedric couldn't tell from Mr. Weasley's tone whether or not he agreed with his wife that Cedric was too young.

After Krum had departed, conversation returned to the previous topic of discussion.  "So what'll happen if they close the school, not just delay it?" Harry asked -- again.  "How will we learn to defend ourselves?"

"Private lessons, I expect," Ron answered, as he had before.

"Have they ever closed the school?  In the last war?" Harry asked.

"Not according to Hogwarts: A History," Hermione replied.  "But we know about the incident with the Chamber of Secrets when Vol . . . Voldemort" -- she said it forcefully -- "opened it as a student.  So they will close Hogwarts if they think the students are in danger."

"It's not the students," Harry said bitterly, "just me.  I'm surprised they're not barring me from returning."

"Harry," Cedric said quietly, making the other boy look up as if he'd almost forgotten Cedric was there, "it's not just you.  Voldemort stayed away before because of Dumbledore.  He didn't dare attack.  With Dumbledore gone, everything's up in the air.  The school has natural defences, but, well, every Muggle-born student's in danger if Voldemort decides they don't belong there.  That includes Hermione."

Expression abashed, Harry nodded, then asked, "What d'you think they'll do?"

"I don't know," Cedric replied honestly.

They all fell silent then, pondering.  There was a bit more discussion, but not of anything terribly critical.  Within 20 minutes of Krum's departure, he was back.  Opening the door, he gave Cedric a single nod.  "Come on."

Privately thrilled, Cedric couldn't resist grinning, but the smile fell off his face as soon as he saw Harry's expression.  Unsure what to say, he rose silently and followed Krum out.  But in the hall beyond, Krum stopped and regarded Cedric a moment before saying, "Moody has been pushing.  There was much of opposition, but not enough."  Krum continued to eye him.  "You are certain of this?  People in the Order die, Cedric.  Is not Quidditch match."

"I'm positive," Cedric replied.  "And I know it's no game."

Krum just nodded, accepting that.  "Moody voted you first.  Now, they debate other thing.  Come.  Good arguments have been had on both sides.  Not agree with one, but admit -- good arguments.  Your vote required.  One way or the other, it stops the splitting."

So.  He was the swing vote.  Perhaps not just that, or only that, but it was as he'd suspected:  Moody needed his allegiance . . . and a pernickety part of Cedric wanted to deny him the tally.  Despite the reputation of Hufflepuffs for "group think," he had a horror of being herded.  The responsible side, however, told him that he had to hear the arguments.

He and Krum had reached the kitchen, and Viktor opened the door.

" -- is NOT old enough!  He's fifteen, Sirius, and if your family asked you to grow up early, it's simply not fair to put Harry under this sort of pressure!  Has the poor boy ever had a normal life?  Did none of you think of that?"

"A normal life would be lovely," Moody ground out, "if Voldemort would just leave us all alone . . . but I doubt that's happening soon, is it?"

Conversation cut off immediately and all eyes turned to Cedric and Viktor.  Moody stood, although McGonagall didn't.  "Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Mr. Diggory."

Cedric nodded cautiously, scanning faces, trying to decide who wanted him here -- and who didn't.  Molly Weasley was obviously upset, along with his mother, predictably.  McGonagall appeared dubious, and Snape disdainful.  His father looked . . . uncertain, but also proud.  Remus Lupin's expression was similar.  Arthur Weasley's expression was blank, but Sirius appeared frankly thrilled . . . and that bothered Cedric.  He didn't want Sirius Black's approval or support, and he still wasn't sure that he oughtn't say something to somebody about what Sirius had done to Regulus, but he hadn't been back to the diary since his last exchange with it.  Then again, he hadn't really had much opportunity.

He turned his attention to the other members as he took the extra seat beside Viktor.  Moody was introducing them, some of whom Cedric had already met, such as Nymphadora Tonks.  Young, cheerful, pretty and pink-haired, Cedric was cautiously fond of her, but Kingsley Shacklebolt -- a tall, broad black man -- unnerved him slightly.  There were others, but Moody moved through names quickly, getting back to the heart of the matter.  "We've got to make a decision, and we've got to make it tonight.  We've run out of time."

"Alastor," said a broad but dignified man with thick hair the colour of maize who Cedric hadn't seen before; Moody had introduced him as Sturgis something, "After tonight, I'd say we're less rushed.  He won't be back to the Ministry -- "

"Not for the prophecy, no -- but that also means it's not preoccupying him now.  He'll move his plans forward.  He's had years to make them, you can bet he's got them.  With Dumbledore gone and the lack of the prophecy to distract him, he's going to launch his offensive.  Harry needs to be taken to Hogwarts to talk to Dumbledore's portrait."

"I thought we'd agreed that we'd wait until the school year started."

"Is the school year going to start, Minerva?" asked another witch, one with pale hair and a rather severe expression on otherwise very fine features.

"Well, the Minister and governors want a delay, but it stayed open last time -- "

"Last time Harry wasn't there," Sirius interrupted, frowning.  "And Dumbledore was.  I'm not sure it's safe to send Harry there now."

"You wanted to send him there to talk to Dumbledore!  And Harry needs to prepare for his OWLs."

"To talk to Dumbledore, yes, but to attend classes and spend extended time there?"  He shot a glance at Lupin.  "Remus and I can tutor him privately here."

"And I'm certain his Potions OWL will reflect your excellent instruction -- " Snape began.

"It might be better than having you there trying to sabotage him at every turn!" Sirius snapped back.

"Gentlemen!" McGonagall interrupted, nodded towards Cedric.  "We have a student present.  Please refrain from comment on the teaching qualifications of Hogwarts' staff, Sirius."  Her lips thinned.

Moody broke in, "Sirius' opinion of Severus isn't likely to change whether he's in this meeting or outside it, Minerva.  Diggory's going to hear it one way or the other."  Then he eyed Cedric, who was baffled by what they were arguing over, even as he had to grant Sirius's point about Harry being in greater danger at Hogwarts this year.  Trouble was, he didn't think Harry any safer in Sirius's house, even with Remus Lupin about.  Getting Harry alone, Sirius could convince him of all sorts of things, and Cedric found himself frowning.

Moody was still speaking, "We need to bring Diggory-the-younger up to speed on a few matters.  I'm interested in hearing his opinion, in part because he's a student.  So, to summarize quickly Diggory, You-Know-Who has been attacking the Ministry trying to get to the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries.  There's a prophecy stored there that was given before Harry was born and concerns Harry and You-Know-Who.  You-Know-Who heard part of it before, but only part."  He glanced at Snape, but Snape was frowning at the table, looking . . . uncomfortable.  Cedric wondered at that as Snape rarely looked uncomfortable, just bored, disdainful or dubious.  "This prophecy sent You-Know-Who after Harry in the first place, and if we don't know the whole of the prophecy, Dumbledore does.  He's the one who heard it.  You-Know-Who thinks it'll tell him how to kill Harry -- that's why he wanted to hear it, and why we didn't want him to.  We -- the Order -- have been guarding the Hall of Prophecy, as well as guarding Harry, since June.

"Last time, You-Know-Who moved too soon, without knowing the whole thing, and it backfired on him.  He won't make that mistake twice, so keeping him away from the Hall has kept him preoccupied -- and given us some time to consolidate.

'Tonight, however, he threw everything he had at the Ministry in a bid for that prophecy.  He almost got it.  I destroyed it before he could."

Cedric sat up abruptly, glancing at Krum beside him.  "You . . . destroyed it?  Doesn't that . . . won't that hurt us too?  If we don't know what it said?  And" -- Cedric went on before he lost his nerve -- "when were you going to tell Harry about it?  I assume you were?"

"Cedric!" his father admonished but Moody held up a hand.

"It's quite all right, Amos.  This is exactly why I argued that Cedric belonged in the Order -- because he's willing to ask a question like that.  And yes, Cedric, we were planning to tell him.  When was the point of debate.  Some of us wanted to take him the Hall immediately, others were hoping we could wait until he'd sat his OWLs."

"Probably optimistic," Shacklebolt said, the first he'd spoken since Cedric had arrived, yet he occupied the seat on Moody's other side opposite McGonagall, suggesting he held some authority here.  "Still, the longer the better, I think."

"Well, I did say 'hoping,'" Moody replied, lips tipping up.  "In any case, and to return to the point, yes, I destroyed it.  You-Know-Who had made it past our defences all the way through to the Hall.  Better to destroy it than let him get a hold of it.  He didn't believe we'd really break the orb."  Moody's tight smile turned vicious.  "But we know things he doesn't.  Dumbledore prepared for a number of eventualities, and this was one of them.  He heard the prophecy, so he can relate it to Harry -- or rather, his portrait can.

"That's what we're voting on tonight, son.  The Hall of Prophecy is no longer an option.  And I say we can't wait any longer; I'm not certain we should have waited in the first place" -- Molly Weasley was opening her mouth to say something but Moody barrelled on -- "regardless of what the prophecy might reveal.  He needs to hear it, age aside and the potential danger aside.  Others," he glanced at Molly, but also at McGonagall and Shacklebolt and the straw-haired Sturgis, "think it's either too risky or he's too young.  He is just fifteen.  I recognize that.  And while Dumbledore was alive, I agreed that the longer we could wait, the older he could get and the more spells he could learn -- the better.  Now, I don't think we have a choice."  He glanced at McGonagall.  "But in all fairness, I'll let Minerva argue the other side."

She was shaking her head.  "Actually, I no longer disagree with you, Alastor."  That made several others lean over the table and Molly let out a little gasp.  McGonagall tilted her head forward to study them all over her glasses.  "While a copy of the prophecy was stored at the Ministry, I did believe we should wait, as Albus had insisted himself.  Even after the loss of Albus, I thought it best to wait as long as we possibly could.  But now, yes, I think it time for Alastor and I to take Harry to Hogwarts and hear the prophecy."

"I still think he's too young," Molly said.  "He's a boy -- a fifteen-year-old boy!  Have all of you simply forgotten that?"

"No, Molly."  Remus Lupin spoke gently.  "We haven't forgotten at all.  But -- "

"No 'but's, Remus!  This is getting entirely out of hand!"  She pointed at Cedric.  "We're drafting students now?  Are we that desperate?  Cedric hasn't even taken his NEWTs!  And Harry hasn't taken his OWLs!  We have adults to protect the children.  I say we let Harry stay here, let Remus and Sirius tutor him, keep him protected and get him through his OWLs.  At least his OWLs."

"How long do you think we can spin this out?" Sirius snapped.  "I agree that Harry should stay here, but I don't agree that we keep him in the dark.  He needs to know the reasons!  He's not a little boy!"

"Nor is he a grownup, Sirius Black!  I've raised six boys through these years!  Six!  Even a year can make an enormous difference in what they're able to handle.  And poor Harry has already been through so much.  We owe it to him -- and to Lily and James -- to give him as much time to grow up as we can possibly give him."

Sirius had actually risen from his seat, hands pressed hard into the tabletop.  "Don't talk about Lily and James!  You barely knew them!  How dare you -- "

"I dare because you can't see Harry as Harry, not as James!" she shot back.

"STOP!" Moody bellowed, and Cedric actually flinched, as did several others around the table.  The silence that followed was thunderous and Moody's magical eye was spinning madly.  "We lost people tonight -- including Robards.  He wasn't a member of the Order, no, but in a single attack, You-Know-Who left a casualty list of over 20 people, half of those Aurors.  He didn't lose nearly that number.  Less than half the original Order survived the first war, and it's entirely possible that half of us in this room won't be living by next August."  He glared around the table.  "Who's going to protect Harry then?"  He paused for effect, then said, "Albus is dead, and the only person who You-Know-You has genuinely feared besides Albus is a fifteen-year-old boy -- all because of this prophecy.  So protect him, yes, but there's a point past which protecting him actually endangers him and I'd say we've reached that point.  He needs to know whatever's in that prophecy.  Diggory-the-younger, what say you?"

The question took Cedric by surprise, coming right on the tail of Moody's forceful lecture.  He sat back and glanced at Krum, who'd turned to look at him.  Krum just nodded.  "Ah . . . " Cedric stopped.  He didn't want to stumble over his words.  Part of him did want to protect Harry as long as possible, but it might protect him best to know as much as possible.  "What's known about the prophecy?" he asked.  He needed more information.  Lupin, Shacklebolt and Krum all nodded.

"It concerns the one person who can destroy You-Know-Who," Moody said.  "That's why You-Know-Who wants to hear it so badly, to know how to protect himself."

"Will it tell Harry how to protect himself against ...  against Voldemort?"  Use of the name drew shocked breaths, but Cedric wasn't going to employ euphemisms anymore.

"We don't know," Moody answered him.  "Perhaps."

"Then he needs to hear it," Cedric said simply.  "And" -- he drew in a breath -- "he needs to return to Hogwarts for school."  Sirius whipped his head around but Cedric cracked on; this would be his only chance to put forward a case to keep Harry out of Sirius Black's perverted clutches.  He couldn't give his real reasons but he could make a legitimate argument on other grounds.

"Harry needs to learn from the best in their field," Cedric said, appealing to vanity.  "No offence to Sirius," he said, nodding to the other man, who appeared close to an outburst, "or to Remus.  But Harry needs to learn from the best at Charms, the best at Transfiguration, the best at Potions, the best Dark Arts teacher.  In fact, if Professor Lupin -- well, Remus Lupin . . . if you'd come back and be our professor again, that would be brilliant."

"They wouldn't have me back, Cedric.  And I'm still not sure -- "

"Alastor Moody, then," Cedric interrupted before he could be stopped.  His brain was working as fast as it could go.  "You were supposed to teach last year.  Come back.  Teach us this year.  We need what you know.  Harry needs what you know.  Harry needs to be taught by the best at everything so he has a chance -- "

"It's not safe!" Sirius thundered.

"Maybe not as safe as here but safe enough!" Cedric half-shouted back, although privately, and despite what he'd told Harry earlier, he thought Hogwarts more safe than granting Sirius unrestricted access to Harry.  "Admittedly, it's not Hidden, and admittedly, Professor Dumbledore is dead.  But Hogwarts may be one of the safest places otherwise."  He looked around the table.  "The school can't be Apparated into and Voldemort" -- winces all around -- "couldn't attack it without crossing the grounds.  There was a time when the castle wasn't Unplotted, when it could be breached by Muggles, and the Founders prepared for that, didn't they?  There are tunnels."  He looked directly at Professor Snape.  "There are tunnels.  Salazar Slytherin built escape routes."  Snape appeared surprised, one eyebrow raised, but not unimpressed.  "The Head of Slytherin House knows where they all are.  If Voldemort attacked, you could get Harry out, couldn't you?"

"It's not just Harry, Cedric," Shacklebolt was speaking, his voice deep and overriding.  "Taking Harry back to Hogwarts would be painting a big target on the school.  Sirius has a point about keeping him here."

"Not to mention that those tunnels go two ways," Sirius added.  "I got in two years ago by using some of them."

"No," Cedric said, feeling almost desperate but he couldn't let them see that or they'd think he did have ulterior motives . . . and not the right ones.  He took a breath.  "Please, no offence.  But I disagree.  We could be prepared . . . run drills.  The older ones -- we could protect the younger, and we'd all know not to try to play hero.  We may be young, but we're not foolish."  He saw several sceptical faces at that.  "We're not.  This is serious; we understand that.  But I think it best if Harry goes back to Hogwarts." 

As soon as Cedric stopped talking, half a dozen voices were raised, either arguing for or against the idea, until McGonagall -- on her feet -- suppressed the quarrelling with, "I agree with Cedric."  That surprised Cedric a bit, as he'd assumed McGonagall one of those more keen to over-protect Harry.  She glanced at Moody, still seated.  "Alastor, I may not be Headmistress officially" -- her lips thinned -- "but would you return to Hogwarts to teach and to guard Harry?"

Moody just nodded and Cedric let out the breath he'd been holding even as Sirius erupted in protest again.  McGonagall held up a hand.  "Peace, Sirius.  I understand your objections and they're not unreasonable, but I think Cedric made a strong argument in favour of Harry returning."  She regarded Cedric over the tops of her glasses, then turned from him to Snape.  "Severus, in the event of an attack on the castle, I charge you and your house with their traditional duty -- to evacuate the student body."  Snape inclined his head in agreement.  "Additionally, I charge us both with the personal protection of Harry Potter."  Snape appeared less agreeable to that, but didn't argue, just inclined his head again as Sirius snorted in derision.

"So," McGonagall finished, "Harry returns to Hogwarts."

"And hears the prophecy," Moody added.

"Do we have a majority that says he should?" Kingsley asked.

Moody glanced around the room.  "I think we may.  I call the vote.  Raise your hands if you're in favour of Harry being told the prophecy by Dumbledore's portrait?  Minerva, count please."

Around the table, hands went up -- some vigorously, some with resignation, some only after apparent internal debate.  Moody, McGonagall, Sirius, Remus, Viktor and Cedric, Mundungus Fletcher, Tonks and . . . after hesitation, both Cedric's father and Arthur Weasley.  Molly shot her husband a poisoned glance.  "Alastor," Sirius said, "I know Hagrid would vote in favour too."

"He might, but he's not here," Moody replied simply.  "No proxies.  Those opposed?"

Snape, Molly Weasley and Cedric's own mother, plus Shacklebolt, who said as his hand went up, "It's not that I'm entirely opposed, but I'd like to give the boy as much time as we could."  There were others as well, Sturgis-whoever, the elegant witch, a black-haired witch and an elderly wizard, plus an excitable bloke Cedric thought was named Diddle or Diggle or something close to Diggory, as well as an elderly woman with a big gold cat brooch.

It was close, but more hands went up in favour than not; Cedric wasn't a tie-breaker after all.  Apparently the attack on the Ministry had changed a few minds.  Seeing that 'her' side had lost, Molly Weasley exploded, "Telling him can at least wait for school to open!"

Moody was shaking his head.  "Sorry, Molly.  At this point, I doubt school will be opening on September the first.  We can't wait that long.  We won't take him up there at sunrise, but we'll take him soon.  I don't want to deal with Dolores Umbridge and the legacy of Fudge trying to undercut us.  We're going to have plenty of trouble on that front already."

"Alastor," McGonagall said, nodding again towards Cedric.

"Oh, let him hear it, Minerva.  He's one student.  And you know as well as I do that she's going to be no end of trouble."  Moody looked right at Cedric.  His magical eye had rolled back in his head.  "This isn't a war with two fronts, us versus You-Know-Who.  This war has three fronts, and one of them is embedded in the Ministry.  They're not friends of You-Know-Who, but they're not on our side, either."

Cedric nodded.  He knew that in war, matters were rarely simple.

The meeting broke up immediately afterwards and Krum tried to pull Cedric aside to talk to him, even as Sirius Black was headed for Cedric too -- expression angry.  Before either could succeed in isolating him, however, his mother had him by the ear.  "Time to go home, young man," she said, and even Sirius didn't appear inclined to tackle Cedric's mum.  She might not normally be as forceful as Molly Weasley, but at the moment, she was angry, and Cedric was escorted out of the kitchen and the house, then Apparated home before he had a chance to speak with anybody.

"Mum," he said as soon as he, his father and his mother appeared on the pavement outside their front door.  "I'm seventeen, not seven!"

"As long as you live under my roof, Cedric Newell, you will respect my wishes.  They may have let you into their little secret club, but you will not be fighting.  I absolutely refuse to allow it until you've finished your NEWTs and left school . . . at the very least.  Are we clear?"

Cedric glanced at his father, hoping for support, but his father only looked tired and Cedric knew he'd be getting no (overt) assistance from that quarter.  "Mum -- "

"Are we clear!"

Lips thin, he said, "Yes, mum," and stalked into the house, heading up to bed, not waiting on either of them.  On the horizon, the sun was rising.

12. Waiting

After the meeting, Harry was sent back to bed.  This annoyed him no end.

Cedric never returned upstairs, although Krum dropped by to say that Cedric's parents had hauled him off and Cedric hadn't looked happy about it.  But when Harry asked what had happened, Krum just shook his head.  "Moody will tell you."

"Some decision's been made, hasn't it?  Something about me?"

Krum just grinned.  "Patience," he said.

"I'M SICK AND TIRED OF BEING PATIENT!" Harry shouted back.

Krum refused to get angry, just replied, "I will be seeing you in morning.  Or, um, in afternoon," and he left Harry alone in the room he shared with Ron.  Harry and Ron exchanged a look, but said nothing else about it.

Moody was in five minutes later, but instead of telling Harry anything, he just said, "Go to bed."

"But -- !"

"Tomorrow, Potter.  We'll talk tomorrow."

Frustrated, Harry threw the pillow against the wall.  But he did go to bed, if not back to sleep immediately.  His mind ran in circles, wondering what Voldemort had been after and what he was doing now.  When sleep finally claimed him, it was restless.  He woke and slept, woke and slept until the sun was high.  Then he finally passed out from sheer exhaustion and woke again a few hours later in mid-afternoon.  He had a headache and felt woozy from the odd hours, and Ron was still sleeping.  Getting up quietly and dressing, he descended to the kitchen for breakfast only to find Sirius there, along with Remus and McGonagall, seated near the fireplace.  "Where's Moody?" he asked as they all looked around at him.

"He'll be by after dinner."

Harry pulled out a chair and sat down so that he could face all three of them.  "So.  Tell me what was decided yesterday.  Moody said last night that I'd hear today."

"When he returns -- " McGonagall began . . .

. . . which Harry had just known would be the answer.  Jerking to his feet again and slamming the chair into the table, he shouted, "Wait, wait, wait!  That's all I ever hear!  I'm tired of waiting.  I want some answers!"

Sirius and Remus looked guilty, but McGonagall only raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips.  "Your outbursts make me wonder if you are, in fact, ready to hear anything at all, Mr. Potter."

"Minerva -- " Sirius began, but she lifted a hand to silence him.  Furious, but also just a little bit shamed, Harry couldn't reply.  Instead, he sat back down.

"I and Auror Moody would prefer to tell you together, Potter.  He's currently away on business, making arrangements, in fact, that concern you.  When he returns, I'm certain he'll want to speak with you immediately.  In the meantime, you can eat a late lunch and listen, as there are some things that I can tell you."  She settled down in the chair directly opposite him, hands folded on the wooden top, while Sirius fetched him some stew and a chunk of bread slathered with butter.  "Where are Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger?" she asked.

"Still asleep.  Well, at least Ron is.  I'm not sure about Hermione.  I came straight down here but didn't spot her."

"I'll go and get them," Remus said and McGonagall gave a curt nod while Harry focused on his food so he didn't have to look at her.  He could feel his irritation at delays growing again.

After a few minutes, a yawning Ron entered to plop down in the seat beside Harry, swiping Harry's bread.  "Gerrof," Harry said, elbowing him.  "Mine."  He took the bread back.  Sirius was putting two more bowls and a whole loaf of brown bread along with the butter on the table.  Ron helped himself as Hermione stumbled in, frizzy hair apparently uncombed, eyes red from lack of sleep.  Krum was behind her.  Harry wondered how late they'd stayed up talking.

Sirius just dipped a fourth bowl and handed it to Viktor, who muttered, "Blagodarya," and sat down too.

Once they were settled, McGonagall gave another curt nod, and began, "Well, as you already know, the Ministry was attacked last night by He Who Must Not Be Named and all his current Death Eaters, including, it would seem, those recently rescued from Azkaban.  In fact, it's likely that first failed attempt -- the one made the same night Potter was attacked -- led to his attack on Azkaban in order to increase his strength for a second assault."

"What's he looking for?" Harry asked point blank.

McGonagall's eyebrow went up.  "All in good time, Potter."  Harry might have protested, but she'd already moved on, "As a result, Gawain Robards -- the newly appointed head of the Auror division when Scrimgeour was made Minister -- was killed in the battle, along with eight other Aurors.  As of this morning, Scrimgeour appointed Kingsley Shacklebolt department head.  Thirteen other Ministry employees were lost in the battle, making the casualty total twenty-two, along with another seven critically injured." 

Harry tried not to boggle at those numbers.  "That's" -- he swallowed -- "that's a lot, isn't it?"

Her face softened a fraction.  "Yes, Potter.  That's a lot.  The good news is He Who Must Not Be Named's attack was, ultimately, unsuccessful."

Harry nodded and, suddenly not very hungry, pushed aside his half-finished stew.  "Moody said last night that Hogwarts's opening might be delayed?  Will it be?"

Her lips thinned.  "I fear so," she said simply.  "They want to assign Aurors for protection, among other things, and those arrangements take time."

"They won't . . . they won't close it, will they?  And, well -- you'll let me come back, won't you?"

McGonagall exchanged a glance with Sirius, who was still moving around the kitchen.  Harry thought that his godfather's expression looked tight.  "Right now," McGonagall said, "there are no plans to close the school, no.  As for you, Potter, we've decided it's probably safer for you at Hogwarts."

"Well, 'course it is!" Ron said even as Harry added, "I couldn't go back to my aunt and uncle's!"

"That wasn't the other option," Sirius broke in.

"Sirius!" McGonagall said, even as Harry asked, "What was the other option?"

"You could stay here."  Sirius turned from where he'd been storing stew, his face earnest.  "I could tutor you, and Remus, and well, others too.  Molly Weasley is rather good at Potions, Arthur excels at Charms, and back in the day, I was a fair hand at Transfigurations -- "

"Sirius!" McGonagall barked again and Sirius subsided.  Looking at Harry, she went on, "The Order has discussed this.  We decided that it would be best for you to return to Hogwarts.  In fact, the one who argued it most strongly was Mr. Diggory.  The younger, that is -- Cedric."

Harry blinked.  On the one hand, Sirius had sounded very . . . hopeful.  But on the other, Harry wanted to go back to Hogwarts; it was his home -- and this dingy, mouldy, rather depressing house wasn't.  He just didn't want to disappoint his godfather, so he was glad the choice had been taken out of his hands, although he wondered if the fact Cedric had argued for his return . . . meant something?  Hermione was glancing between Harry and Sirius.  Ron just lifted his eyebrows but kept eating.

"Where is Cedric?" Harry asked now.

"I would assume at his home," McGonagall replied, apparently bemused by the question.

Harry wanted to talk to Cedric -- needed to talk to him -- alone, but since leaving Privet Drive, hadn't really had the chance.  He missed it.  Ron might be his best mate, and Hermione too, in her own way, but with Cedric, he'd had different sorts of conversations.

In any case, McGonagall's information placated Harry a bit, made him feel less patronized, and made waiting until Moody's return easier.  When Moody did return after supper, he pulled Harry aside just as McGonagall had promised, taking him upstairs to the Black library and sitting him down in a old, florid, acid-green armchair.  "All right, Potter," he began.  "Minerva will be along shortly, and arrangements have been made.  We're going to Hogwarts."