As the Sister of Harry Potter

The room was a mess. Harry and I had shut ourselves in our room after a few rows the night of the attack that involved getting expelled, the un-expelled, a hearing date, a Howler, and half-dozen owls. Harry had been moody and angsty the past three days, and I wasn’t about to get I his way, seeing as I felt pretty much the same, and I didn’t want to get into a row with him. I spent most the time sitting on the floor at the end of the bed, reading Muggle novels, trying to escape my thoughts.. If I was seventeen, I would have taken Harry and gone to The Burrow, but no, I had to wait until Halloween for that to happen. The thought was driving me crazy.

At around six a few nights after the attack, Uncle Vernon rapped his knuckles on our door.

“We’re going out,” he grunted, poking his head in.

“Okay,” Harry said mono-tone.

“You’re not to touch any of our possessions or steal from the fridge.”

“You got it.”

“I’m going to lock you in.”

“You do that.”

Uncle Vernon looked suspicious at Harry’s lack of response, but left and locked our door. I set my book down and gazed out the window. I closed my eyes, hoping to get some rest before the Dursleys came back.

CRASH!

My eyes snapped open and I was hurled out of my dream. I scrambled up and snatched my wand up from the floor. Harry was alert took, pointing his wand at the door, which creaked open. The only logical explanation could be burglars in the house. But seriously, who would steal from the Dursleys? I slinked to the door and Harry followed. Wands held high, we crept down the stairs.

“Lower your wands before you put someone’s eye out,” a familiar voice growled.

“Professor Moody?” Harry asked as we reached the landing.

“I don’t know about ‘Professor,’ didn’t get around to teaching much, now did I?” Moody grumbled, and we stumbled into the wand-lit kitchen.

A group of people stood around and behind our former professor. A young woman with a heart-shaped face and such violent purple hair she put Ophilia to shame was looking at us with interest, holding her wand-light high.

“Ooh!” she said. “They look just like I thought they would!”

“But is it them?” Moody asked.

“I’ll check,” came a tired voice, and good old Remus Lupin stepped forward, looking shabbier than ever. “Harry, what form does your Patronus take?”

“A stag.”

“And you Jennifer?”

“A huge lion.”

“There you are Moody,” said Lupin conclusively, “it’s them.”

“This is all very well,” I started, “but what are all you doing here?”

“We’re taking you to Headquarters with us. We’re your guard,” said the woman with purple hair.

“Exactly. Well, I think you know most people here,” started Lupin. “You obviously know Alastor, and Diddius tells me you’ve met?”

“Oh yes!” squeaked Diddius Diggle, fumbling with his top hat.

“So, Kingsley Shaklebolt,” a tall African wizard nodded, “Emeline Vance,” a witch in green waved at us, “And Nymphadora –”

“Don’t call me that Remus!” said the purple-haired witch, shuddering.

“ –Tonks, who prefers being know by her surname,” Lupin finished. Tonks took Harry upstairs to pack while I approached Emeline Vance to get a better look at her.

“Mrs. Vance?!” I asked incredulously. She had been the cook at the orphanage where I had grown up, and was one of the few people who had been kind to me there. She smiled widely at me.

“Hello Jennifer, I was wondering when I’d get to see you again. Dumbledore’s kept me informed since you started Hogwarts!”

“Then it is you! But…?”

“How? Really, you think Dumbledore would have dumped you there without someone to look after you?” she asked, chuckling.

Two trunks and a pair of owl cages floated downstairs in front of Tonks and Harry. We all trooped outside and Harry handed me my Firebolt. “We flying then?” I asked as Tonks and Kingsley strapped trunks to their brooms.

“Yes, and there’s the first signal! Mount!” barked Moody, and I mounted my broom. “Alright, kick off!” I slammed my foot to the ground and soared into the air.

The wind bit fiercely at my face and made my long red hair whip out behind me, but the sensation of flying was superior to it all. I hadn’t flow in ages, and considering what a horrible summer we’ve had so far, this was heaven.

“Hard left! Muggle looking up!” Moody yelled, and we pulled left. I let out a small shriek of joy as we climbed higher into colder air. “Higher!” urged Moody, and we flew even higher still. Droplets of water soon formed on my eyelashes and eyebrows. I started shivering, wondering how long until we got to wherever we were going, because I was sure if I got much colder, I would have an asthma attack. And I really don’t need to go into another one of those, especially flaying thousands of feet above England.

“Alright, start descending, aim for that park!” ordered Moody, and we steered down out of the clouds to a dingy street in London. We touched down in a dark and wet park, across from old, tall houses. We crept out the park gates and Moody used the Deluminator on the street lamps, leaving all but one in darkness.

“Here,” he said roughly, “Read and pass on to your sister.” He shoved a bit of parchment into Harry’s hands. Harry read, then passed it to me. In Dumbledores’ handwriting, it read:

The Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix may be found at Number 12, Grimauld Place.

Harry and I looked at each other, confused, then looked back up at the houses that we assumed were on Grimauld Place. 9, 10, 11, 13…the numbers skipped right over 12. Then 11 and 13 began to part, and a new building seemed to grow from out between them. Number 12 appeared, and we bustled inside.

Down the long, dark hallway we tiptoed, single-file until Mrs. Weasley met us at the bottom of the staircase. “Oh, Harry, Jennifer! Good timing Alastor, the meeting’s just started,” she whispered, pulling Harry and I up a few stairs. “Harry, you’re on the second door to the left on the next floor with Ron and Hyden, and Jennifer, I’m sorry, but there girls room is full, you’ll be bunking with Fred and George. First door on the right, third floor. Be good, and keep your voices down!” She bristled down the stairs, leaving Harry and I in the gloom.
“Well, come on,” I sighed, heaving up my trunk and began struggling up the narrow staircase. “Maybe we can finally get some answers here.” Harry nodded and followed me up. He left me at his room, and I continued up to the third floor. I thunked my trunk down and opened the door of the room of two of my favorite people who had a ton of explaining to do.

Fred opened the door, looking annoyed at first, but grinned when he was it was me and not his mother.

“Let me get that,” he said, pulling out his wand. “Locomotor Trunk!” My trunk floated into the room and I followed it. I had no idea how long the Twins had been in there, but it was about as messy as Harry and I’s room. A cauldron was set up with ingredients and books scattered around it. George was shuffling around some papers. Sweets and other products the Twins had invented were scattered across the floor. In a corner was a small stack of purple boxed labeled “Weasley’s Wildfire Whizbangs,” whatever those were.

“Homey,” I commented, throwing myself down on a bed. Fiona flew down from the wardrobe and landed by my arm. She nipped at my fingers until I stroked her feathers. “Honestly, so picky… you’d think I abused her…” I muttered.

From the flood below, I heard shouting that sounded like Harry. I rolled my eyes, although now that I was here, that’s exactly what I felt like doing.

“So, er, Jen… how was your summer?” George asked hesitantly.

I raised an eyebrow, and said as coolly as possible, “Well, if being trapped on Privet Drive and surrounded by Dementors, not to mention having no clue what’s going on in the Wizarding world is fun, the my summer’s been fantastic.” I sat up, piercing them with my dangerous hazel eyes. “The only owls I’ve gotten all summer were from Sirius telling me to stay put and not fly off the handle, Ophilia going on about her wonderful vacation, free of all problems, and the Ministry expelling me and then suspending me for saving someone’s life!”

“We’re sorry Jen,” Fred started. “Dumbledore made us swear not to write.”

“And mum seemed to think you’d get ideas if we did.”

“Well, that’s a lovely excuse,” I said heatedly. “And Sarlanda? What’s her excuse? Broke her fingers or something?”

George frowned, disapproving of my pissyness. “We don’t see her much. Dumbledore let her join the Order because she’s of age and she’s spying on her family for us. So we don’t get to talk to her a lot. I imagine that’s why she can’t write.” When I glared at him, he continued. “Honestly, that’s the truth, none of us have been able to really write anyone, the mail could be compromised at any time.”

“Oh, so everyone else gets to be all together having this… this joy fest, while we’re stuck in the Muggle world, the only ones who don’t know what the hell is going on, is that it? How the hell is that fair?” I yelled, kicking an unknown object across the room.

Fred rolled his eyes. “Quit being a prick Jen, it’s not a joy fest. We’ve been mostly cleaning, thanks to Mum. We’re better off than most though, Cedric’s in protective custody, and can’t leave the house at all, much less get mail. You’ve gotten more mail than he has.”

“But at least he’s—wait, what? Protective custody?”

“Yeah, it’s actually kind of amusing, the last time we actually got to talk to Sarlanda, she said he was whining about how he didn’t get to see anyone,” commented George, and I threw a pillow at him.

“It is not funny, why can’t he leave his house?” I demanded, upset now.

“Is too funny, you’re just saying that ‘cuz you loooooove him,” Fred teased.

“Just tell me!” I yelled.

“Alright, just kidding Jen. Well, you know, since he was apparently supposed to have died in the graveyard and didn’t, that kind of made the Death Eaters mad, so they’ve been trying to track him down and finish him off, so Dumbledore’s been having at least one Order member at their house all the time, and the house got Fidelius Charmed as well.”

This almost made up for not hearing from him, but I was still pissed. “So, what’s this Order, exactly?” I asked slowly after I had sort of began to control myself again.

“The Order of the Pheonix. It’s a group founded by Dumbledore. They’re the ones fighting against Voldemort,” George answered promptly. Great. Just another thing I didn’t know about.

“Have you two passed the Apparation test yet?”

“Yeup,” they both said, grinning.

“Gits,” I muttered, and left to explore the house, but mostly I set off to just be alone.