Dreams Are Falling Short

“Look...” Harry muttered, but I shook my head, and Hermione said quietly, “We knew you’d be angry, Harry, we really don’t blame you, but you’ve got to understand, we did try to persuade Dumbledore-“

“Yeah, I know,” said Harry shortly. There was a pause. “Who’s Kreacher?”

“The house-elf who lives here,” I said. “Nutter. Never met one like him.”

Hermione frowned at me.

“He’s not a nutter, Corey.”

“His life’s ambition is to have his head cut off and stuck up on a plaque just like his mother,” I said dully. “Is that normal, Hermione?”

“Well – well, if he is a bit strange, it’s not his fault.”

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry.

“Hermione still hasn’t given up on SPEW.”

“It’s not SPEW!” said Hermione heatedly. “It’s the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. And it’s not just me, Dumbledore says we should be kind to Kreacher too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ron. “C’mon, I’m starving.”

I led the way out of the door and on to the landing.

“Hold it!” I breathed, flinging out an arm to stop Harry, Ron and Hermione walking any further. “They’re still in the hall, we might be able to hear something.”

The four of us looked cautiously over the banisters. The gloomy hallway below was packed with witches and wizards. They were whispering excitedly together. A thin piece of flesh-coloured string descended in front of us. Looking up, I saw Fred and George on the landing above, cautiously lowering the Extendable Ear towards the dark knot of people below. George winked when he caught my eye. At moment later, however, they all began to move towards the front door and out of sight.

“Dammit,” I heard Fred whisper, as he hoisted the Ear back up again.

-

There was a lull in the general conversation: Mr Weasley was leaning back in his chair, ooking replete and relaxed; Tonks was yawning widely; and Ginny, who had lured Crookshanks out from under a dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling Butterbeer corks for him to chases. Fred and I had our heads close together, having a whispered conversation, which caused me to giggle every-now-and-again.

“Nearly time for bed, I think,” said Mrs Weasley with a yawn.

“Not just yet, Molly,” said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. “You know, I’m surprised at you. I thought the first thing you’d do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.”

The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity I associated with the arrival of Dementros. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. Lupin, how had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.

“I did!” said Harry indignantly. “I asked Ron, Hermione and Corey but they said we’re not allowed in the Order, so –“

“And they’re quite right,” said Mrs Weasley. “You’re too young.”

She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched on its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone.

“Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?” asked Sirius. “Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen-“

“Hang on!” interrupted George loudly.

“How come Harry gets his questions answered?” said Fred angrily.

“We’ve been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven’t told us a single stinking thing!” said George.

“’You’re too young, you’re not in the Order’,” said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother’s. “Harry’s not even of age!”

“It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,” said Sirius calmly, “that’s your parents’ decision. Harry on the other hand –“

“It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!” said Mrs Weasley sharply. The expression on her normally kind face looked dangerous. “You haven’t forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?”

“Which bit?” Sirius asked politely, but with the air of a man readying himself for a fight.

“The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,” said Mrs Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.

“I don’t intend on telling him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort came back he has more right than most to –“

“He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and –“

“And he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some.”

There was a lot more arguing, and I sat on the edge of my seat, watching anxiously.

“I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this,” Lupin said, “he’s old enough to decide for himself.”

“I want to know what’s been going on,” Harry said at once.

“Very well,” said Mrs Weasley, her voice cracking. “Ginny – Ron – Hermione – Corey –Fred – George – I want you out of this kitchen, now.”

Here was instant uproar.

“We’re of age!” Fred and George bellowed together.

“If Harry’s allowed, why can’t I?” shouted Ron.

“Mum, I want to hear!” wailed Ginny.

“NO!” shouted Mrs Weasley, standing up, her eyes over bright. “I absolutely forbid –“

“Molly, you can’t stop Fred and George,” said Mr Weasley wearily. “They are of age.”

“They’re still at school.”

“But they’re legally adults now,” said Mr Weasley, in the same tired voice.

Mrs Weasley as now scarlet in the face.

“I – oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay but Ron –“

“Harry’s tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!” said Ron hotly. “Won’t – won’t you?”

“Course I will.”

“And if he doesn’t, Fred and George’ll tell me, and I’ll tell these three,” I said.

“Fine!” shouted Mrs Weasley. “Fine! Ginny – BED!”

-

Mrs Weasley followed us upstairs looking grim.

“I want you all to go straight to bed, no talking,” she said as we reached the first landing, “we’ve got a busy day tomorrow. I expect Ginny’s asleep,” she added to Hermione, “so try not to wake her up.”

“Asleep, yeah, right,” said Fred in an undertone, after Hermione bade us goodnight and we were climbing to the next floor. “If Ginny’s not lying awake waiting for Hermione to tell her everything they said downstairs then I’m a Flobberworm...”

“All right, Ron, Harry,” said Mrs Weasley on the second landing, pointing them into their bedroom. “Off to bed with you.”

“’Night,” Harry and Ron said to us.

“Sleep tight,” said Fred, winking.

I led the way upstairs to the only room in the house that had three twin-beds in it, and instantly jumped onto my old mattress.

“You two know the rules that come with having Corey stay in this room with you,” Mrs Weasley said, like she did every other night. “No –“

“Yes, Mum,” George said, grinning. “We know.”

She closed the door, and I let my face hit the blankets.

“Why does she insist on reminding us every single time?” I questioned, though my voice was muffled by my bed.

“Well –“

“Don’t even answer that, George,” I said, rolling off my bed and reaching for my trunk.

After I had gotten changed into my pyjamas, the twins both turned to me.

“Shall we go pay Ron and Harry a visit then?” Fred asked, offering me his arm.

“I think we shall.”

Crack.

“OUCH!”

“Keep your voice down, Ron, or Mum’ll be back up here.”

“You guys just Apparated on my knees!”

“Yeah, well, it’s harder in the dark. Especially side-along.”

Fred, George and I leaped down from Ron’s bed. There was a groan of bedsprings as George sat down on Harry’s bed. I quickly made myself comfortable at the head of the beds, sitting on the hard, wooden floor.

“So, got there yet?” said George eagerly.

‘The weapon Sirius mentioned?” said Harry.

“Let slip, more like,” I said with relish. “We didn’t hear about that on the old Extendables, did we?”

“What d’you reckon it is?” said Harry.

“Could be anything,” said Fred.

“But there can’t be anything worse that the Avada Kedavra Curse, can there?” said Ron. “What’s worse than death?”

“Maybe it’s something that can kill loads of people at once,” suggested George.

“Maybe it’s some particularly painful way of killing people,” Ron said fearfully.

“He’s got the Cruciatus Curse for causing pain,” I said, “he doesn’t need anything more efficient than that.”

There was a pause and I knew that the others, like me, were wondering what horrors this weapon could perpetrate.

“So who d’you think’s got it now?” asked George.

“I hope it’s our side,” said Ron, sounding slightly nervous.

“If it is, Dumbledore’s probably keeping it,” said Fred.

“Where?” said Ron quickly. “Hogwarts?”

“Bet it is!” said George. “That’s where he hid the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“A weapon’s going to be a lot bigger than the Stone, though!” said Ron.

“Not necessarily,” I said.

“Yeah, size is no guarantee of power,” said George, and I held back a snort.

“Who’s the girl now?” Fred said.

“I am a girl, though, what’s your excuse?”

“As I was saying,” George said, “look at Ginny.”

“What d’you mean?” said Harry.

“You’ve never been on the receiving end of one of her Bat-Bogey Hexes, have you?”

“Shhh!” said Fred, half-rising from the bed. “Listen!”

We fell silent. Footsteps were coming up the stairs.

“Mum,” said George, and I quickly made my way over to him, before we were gone with a loud crack.