Moody took them high into the sky, until they were flying among the clouds. Harry had no idea where they were going, and apparently neither did Moody. Their course swerved and curved at random, and their altitude changed so much that Elphias Dodge appeared to be getting sick to his stomach. After over an hour of flying, Harry was beginning to feel the cold of the night air seeping through his quidditch robes. Thirty minutes after that, Harry could hardly feel his toes when he wiggled them. Thanks to his dragonhide gloves, however, Harry still had a firm grip on his broom.

Tonks suddenly appeared on Harry's right. "Moody!" she called. "We've had enough! It's time to land!"

"Just a few more turns," Moody said. "We have to make sure we aren't leading the enemy to headquarters!"

"There IS NO ENEMY," Tonks said. "Look around! It's just us! They don't care!"

Moody shook his head. "Constant vigilance!"

"I've refreshed my warming charms a half-dozen times," Tonks said. "I'm not doing it again. Remus and I are taking Harry and we're landing. If you want to continue flying around like a crazed albatross, you're welcome to it."

Moody frowned. "Fine." He descended abruptly, leaving Tonks and Harry in his wake.

"You doing alright, Harry?" Tonks asked.

"Jealous of your warming charms," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"You know how to do a warming charm, don't you?" Tonks asked. Her broom was headed downwards, and Harry moved to follow her. "I mean, you made it through that tournament!"

"I'm fifteen, and I'm being investigated for underage magic," Harry said. "Seems like a bad idea to go around casting frivolous warming charms."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tonks seemed genuinely concerned—Harry liked her.

"Moody was doing that on purpose," Harry said. "He doesn't like me, and he's always trying to put me through the paces. This might not earn his respect, but at least I didn't lose any." Harry looked down. They had sunk below the clouds, and were approaching a well-lit street in what appeared to be a muggle city. "Where are we going?" Harry asked.

Tonks opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She smiled, then shook her head. "You'll have to ask Dumbledore when we get there."

Harry did not have long to wait. As Harry floated to the ground, he saw Dumbledore standing at the side of the street, waiting calmly under a darkened streetlamp. The houses on the street were packed tightly together, with the exception of a small, empty lot, perhaps ten feet across, that was directly behind the streetlamp. Harry hopped off his broom and immediately approached Dumbledore.

"Hello, Professor."

"Hello, Harry." Dumbledore extended his hand, which was holding a small piece of paper. "Read this, please."
Harry read: The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Harry looked up. "What's the Order…" Harry's voice trailed away. The empty lot was gone. In its place was an enormous, beautifully appointed house.

Harry looked at Dumbledore. "How?"

"The fidelus charm," Dumbledore said kindly. Behind him, the wizards that had retrieved Harry were marching into the house, one after another. "Please, come inside. I assure you, we will explain as much as we can." Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulders, and gently pushed Harry forward. Harry, mouth still gaping, allowed himself to be led into the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

*!*!*!*

Number 12, Grimmauld Place was true to its name: a grim, old place. Every inch of the house seemed to be covered in dust, grime, or some kind of filth. The hallway that led off the foyer was full of portraits, and almost all the portraits were covered in drop cloths. The only portrait which remained uncovered was that of a glowering, dark-haired man in green robes. As Harry passed he noticed that the brass nameplate claimed that the wizard was Phineas Nigellus Black, a former Hogwarts headmaster.

Dumbledore led Harry briskly down the hall, past several dark rooms, down the stairs and into the kitchen. The kitchen was the first well-lit room that Harry had seen, and it was bursting with people. The team who had rescued Harry from Privet Drive was crowded inside, along with several Weasleys. Harry saw that Molly was at the stove, and Arthur was sitting at the table with Ron and, surprisingly, Hermione. Harry waved and they waved back, but Arthur was not letting either of them walk away from the conversation. In the opposite corner of the room were Fred and George, and they were speaking with a wizard that Harry recognized as Mundungus Fletcher.

There was a slam as the door behind Harry closed. He turned, and saw that Dumbledore had already left the room. When the door to the kitchen opened again, all thoughts of Dumbledore left Harry's mind.

"Harry!" Sirius shouted. Sirius stepped forward and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Did you make it alright?"

"Not a problem," Harry said cheerfully. He felt a surge of happiness, the sort of happiness that he hadn't felt in a long time. Sure, Harry and Sirius had their differences, but they had certainly grown closer over the last year. And the absence of Harry's friends this summer had made Harry desperate for companionship. He was willing to set aside his feelings if it meant having a close friend again.

"No problem, except for Moody trying to freeze us all to death," Tonks offered. She rose from the dinner table and came over to speak with Sirius and Harry.

"So, you've met my favorite cousin, I take it?" Sirius asked.

"Tonks is your cousin?"

"You'd never know by looking at her," Sirius said. "I think she keeps the pink hair so that nobody mistakes her for a Black."

"Got a problem with it?" Tonks asked menacingly.

"Not at all, Nymphadora," Sirius said.

Tonks punched Sirius in the arm, hard. "Don't call me that."

Sirius laughed, but rubbed his arm where Tonks had hit him. "You get the same spot every time," he said.

"I know."

Sirius turned back to Harry. "So, what do you think of the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix? Musty enough for you?"

"What's the Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asked.

"Just a little side project of Dumbledore's," Sirius said. "This is its second incarnation. Reincarnation, if you will. During the last war, Dumbledore put together a small group of dedicated individuals who directly fought Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Now that Voldy is back, so is the Order."

"Wait, Professor Lupin mentioned this during third year, I think," Harry said.

"Call me Remus!" Lupin shouted from across the room.

"Remus, then," Harry said. "He said that in the last war, Dumbledore suspected that there was a spy in the Order."

Sirius nodded. "This is it. Your parents were members, and so were Remus and I. And Peter."

"Sirius!" Molly Weasley was calling from across the room, where she was managing two enchanted knives that were dicing vegetables. Behind her, two pots were boiling over. "Can you get your elf to give me a spot of help?"

"No," Sirius called back. "But I can make his life hell when he refuses!" Sirius turned and stepped out of the kitchen, yelling as he left. "KREACHER!"

Harry glanced back at Tonks. "Is it always like this?" Harry asked.

"No. It's only exciting when I'm here." The auror gave him a grin, and Harry grinned back.

There was a burst of laughter from the corner. Harry turned to see Fred and George slapping their knees as they guffawed, and Mundungus Fletcher wiping his eyes as he laughed.

"And then," said Fletcher, "And then I sells 'im back 'is own cauldrons!"

Fred and George laughed uproariously again, but Harry saw that Tonks was frowning.

"Come with me," Tonks said quietly to Harry.

Harry followed the pink-haired auror into the corner of the kitchen. She threw an arm around Fred's shoulders and began to laugh, as well.

"I can't believe you swindled Señor like that," Tonks said. "I'd have loved to see the look on his face."

"It were priceless," Fletcher said. "You wouldn't'a believed it."

"Where'd he say all this was?" Tonks asked Fred casually.

"I didn'," Fletcher replied. He gave Tonks a grin, and Harry saw that Fletcher was missing several teeth. "And I won', not when yer aroun'."

"Dammit, Dung!" Tonks shouted. Her hair turned red. "Señor's a slimeball! He's responsible for half the magical crimes in London!"

"An' that's why I don' wanter be on 'is bad side," Fletcher replied. "Get someone else to turn 'im in, 'cause it won' be me." Fletcher turned to Harry and extended his hand. "By the way, sorry 'bout that mess from a few days ago."

Harry looked and Fletcher's grimy hand and drew back, slightly. "You're sorry? I might get my wand snapped because of you."

"It's jus' a little misunderstandin'," Fletcher began.

"No, it's not," Harry snapped. "You were shirking your duties, and now I'm paying the price."

With every second he spent around Mundungus Fletcher, Harry liked the man less. Not only were several of Fletcher's teeth missing, but his breath smelled rotten, as well. And now that Harry had a longer look, he was able to see that Fletcher wasn't just dressed shabbily—he was dirty, as if he hadn't bathed recently. Frankly, if Harry had been walking down the street and saw Fletcher coming towards him, Harry would have looked for some excuse to cross to the other side, just so that he wouldn't have to be near the man. And that accent. He sounded like the out-of-work men who sometimes hung around the bar in Little Whinging. Harry had no desire to speak with, or even be in the same room as, Mundungus Fletcher.

Fletcher shook his shoulders. "Well, I kin tell where I'm not wanted." He tipped an imaginary hat toward Fred, George and Tonks. "Gentlemen. Madam Auror." He stepped between the twins and shuffled out of the kitchen.

"That man infuriates me," Tonks said. "Dung knows I've been after Señor ever since he popped up in London, and he won't even give me a scrap!"

"Why is he even a member of the Order?" Harry asked.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "He has his uses. Dung has connections that the rest of us don't have, and he owes Dumbledore a favor. Or two. Dozen."

"Tonks, get over here!" Moody was yelling from the dinner table, where he was using his wand to push salt and pepper shakers around in some sort of complex diagram. "I need you to tell these louts about proper battle tactics!"

"I'll be right there!" Tonks yelled back. She turned to Harry. "Duty calls. See you around, Harry." And with a wink, the heart faced wizard was gone.

"There goes a wonderful wisp of a witch if I ever watched one," Fred said. George nodded silently, and Harry noted that neither of them was looking at Tonks' hair as she walked away. Substantially lower, in fact.

Harry glanced downward, and found himself entranced by the sight as well. It was only when Tonks sat at the table that Harry, Fred and George were released from the enchanting sight of her bum.

"So, how have you two been this summer?" Harry asked.

"Great," said George.

Harry sighed. It was always that sort of conversation when he tried to talk to George—no matter how open-ended the question, the majority of the answers were monosyllabic. "How is research and development going?"

"Better, now that Dung's around," George said.

"Ugh, really?" Harry said. "He's so… dirty. In every sense of the word."

"He doesn't dress any lousier than Lupin," Fred said.

"Lupin's got class, at least," Harry said.

"But Dung has connections that nobody else does," George said, paraphrasing Tonks. "And that means we get ingredients that nobody else can get."

"He's really that good?"

"Really," George said.

Harry sighed. He understood what George was saying. Sometimes you had to work with undesirables. But that didn't mean that Harry had to like it. "You have to do what you have to do, I guess," Harry said. "I like making galleons as much as the next person, so I won't make any more noise about it. But if he tries to apologize to me again, I'll punch him in the nose."

"We'll aim him elsewhere," Fred said cheerfully.

"Thanks," Harry said. "How are things, otherwise? How's the family? Percy doing well?" Hermione had mentioned in her letter to Harry that Percy was found on the edge of starvation by McGonagall at the end of last year.

"Bouncing back beautifully," Fred said. "He's surprised that nobody at the Ministry noticed his absence last year. He feels underappreciated, and underappreciation means that he is now undermining the current undersecretary."

"What?" Harry had gotten confused.

"He's spying on Fudge's cronies for us," George said. "Percy realized that nobody at the Ministry really cared about him."

"Oh. Excellent." Harry smiled. "That sounds dead useful."

"Oh! And, before I forget…" Fred reached into his robes and pulled out a letter. "Charlie left this for you, before he went back to Romania."

Harry took the letter and opened it. The handwriting was messy, and reminded him quite a bit of Ron's.

Harry,

I thought you might like an update on the dragon's egg that you saved at the tournament. The egg hatched in late winter, and the dragon has been growing at a normal rate. In other words, she's already huge!

Harry laughed a little to himself. The experience with Norbert during his first year had taught him loads about the rapid speed at which dragons grow.

We've started to call her Sally, because she was saved by a Slytherin. Her scales are a nice emerald, which a color that isn't often seen in a Swedish Shortsnout. As if that weren't enough, she has a bright white splash of scales on her forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt! I asked Dumbledore about it, and he suspects that something happened when you drew on her egg with those ashes. It's better than any other theory we have. I'm wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it myself.

Sally is doing very well on the reserve, and enjoys frolicking with the other dragons. (That's a joke, by the way—all dragons hate one another. It's a miracle that they ever manage to breed. ) In all seriousness, though, Sally is terrific with the dragon handlers. We've learned more from Sally in six months than we've learned from all our other dragons in the last six years. It's like she was born to interact with wizards.

On a lark, I showed her your picture before I left the reserve for the summer. She gave a big snort of fire, and set my whole arm alight. I think she was happy, but I can't be sure, because I was trying to avoid dying. I'll try again later, from a safer distance. We've never been sure if dragons can see or hear while they're still in the egg, but with your picture I'm hoping to find out.

And lastly, speaking of the tournament, thanks for saving Percy for all of us. He might be a berk, but he's our berk.

Sincerely,

Charlie

Harry saw a paper clip at the bottom of the letter. He tugged it, and saw that a picture had been attached to the back of the page. It showed Charlie in full dragonhide regalia, right arm thoroughly bandaged, standing in front of a green dragon with white lightning-bolt scales on her forehead. As Harry watched, Charlie waved at the camera. After a moment, the dragon blew a bit of fire from its nostrils, and Charlie ran out of the picture in fright. A few seconds later, he slowly returned, and waved at Harry again.

Harry felt relief wash over him. At least something had managed to go well last year.

"What does our dear brother have to say?" Fred asked.

"Dragon's doing well on the reserve," Harry said. "Thanks for saving Percy. The usual stuff."

Molly's voice rang out over the kitchen, once again interrupting all conversation. "Ronald Billius Weasley—OUT!"

"Mum, come on! I'm old enough!" Ron was standing at the table, arms folded across his chest, striking a pose that made him look distinctly childish.

"You are not! Out of this kitchen, this instant! Hermione, you too!"

"We have a right to know what's going on in the Order!" Ron said. He ignored Hermione, who was tugging at his elbow.

"You do not need to know anything about anything, because you are a schoolboy! Now, scat!" Mrs. Weasley waved her wooden spoon at Ron, shooing him and Hermione away from the table until they were standing next to Fred, George and Harry. "Take your brothers with you! And Harry, as well." Mrs. Weasley paused for a moment. "Hello, Harry, dear."

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied.

"Now, all of you, out!"

"Fred and I are seventeen," George said calmly. "If we want to join the Order, I think it's our choice."

Mrs. Weasley frowned and pointed her spoon at George's eyes. "Do you want to test that theory?"

George went a little white in the face. "Er…"

Harry turned his head slightly down and brushed his hair back, using the gesture to hide his mouth from Mrs. Weasley. "Let it go," he whispered.

"No, I don't," George said to his mother. "There will be no testing."

"Good," Mrs. Weasley said. "Now, all of you… out!"

When everybody was out in the hall and the door to the kitchen was locked, George rounded on Harry. "What's your great plan, now?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Now we won't know anything!"

"Or I could ask Sirius, and he'll tell us everything," Harry said.

Fred, meanwhile, was searching through his pockets. "And we have the opportunity to test the newest Weasley Wizarding Wheeze: Extendable Ears!" He pulled a handful of fleshy, ear-shaped lumps from his pocket. Attached to each of them was what appeared to be a long string.

"How do they work?" Ron asked.

"First, we hide," Fred said. He led everybody upstairs, safely out of sight of the kitchen, and handed out the ears once they were safely on the landing. "Next, you wrap this bit around your ear…" He demonstrated on himself. "Then you use your wand to put the ear wherever you need it to be!" With a quick wave, the ear shot down the stairs and hovered near the edge of the door.

"And for those of us who are underage?" Harry asked.

"You're worried about the Trace?" Ron laughed. "That only works when you're alone. If there's an adult around, the Ministry can't tell who's casting the spell."

"Seriously?" Harry asked. "That seems like a horrific loophole."

Ron shrugged as he donned his own Extendable Ear. "The Ministry trusts parents to enforce the underage magic restrictions. Or something."

"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," Hermione said, glancing at the ear in her hand.

"Maybe it's exactly what we should be doing," Harry countered. He wrapped his own Extendable Ear and raised his wand.

"That doesn't make sense," Hermione said.

"Doesn't it?"

"You can't just say the opposite of whatever I say and pretend that you're winning an argument."

"I'm not pretending," Harry said. He used his wand to send the ear down the stairwell. "You can join us, or you can get your information secondhand. Or thirdhand. Your choice."

Hermione once again glanced at the Extendable Ear in her hand. "Ugh. Fine." She began to wrap it around her ear, a grimace on her face.

"I think you're a bad influence on her, mate," Ron said.

"I know I am," Harry replied. "Now hush up, they're about to start."

*!*!*!*

A/N: So, I've been having a pretty productive month in terms of writing. This is good news, for those of you who like this story to continue uninterrupted.