Beyond Hogwarts cont; Chapter Thirty

-=Beyond Hogwarts, cont.; Chapter Thirty=-

The meeting, however, turned out to include about twenty-five wizards and witches, most of whom worked at the Ministry, though there were several that Lily did not know. Several were Aurors at the Ministry—Alastor Moody was among the first to arrive, something James noted with a smirk directed towards Lily’s direction, who quickly sidled away behind a large couch. Kingsley Shacklebolt, after delving into a pile of kiwi halves, wondered publicly about the meeting at the head of a group of five, including a small, mousy man by the name of Edgar Bones that blushed whenever he was spoken to. An auburn-haired witch with interesting blue-grey eyes and chestnut robes arrived with a lanky wizard in green whom Lily faintly knew as Benjy Fenwick. Sirius, Remus, and Peter Apparated into the hallway with cheerful handshakes and joke salt-shakers all around. It was later discovered that real, live spiders scrabbled out of the open tops of the salt-shakers, causing something of a disruption.
   Frank and Eva Longbottom, along with Amanda, arrived at the same time, each bearing a different kind of pie: apple, pumpkin, and blackberry. A handsome Auror, by the name of Caradoc Dearborn, who had worked with Lily on a few occasions, brought some cucumber salad and two bottles of chardonnay, which were gratefully accepted and placed on what was now a buffet table. Singly, in couples and in triples, wizards and witches kept arriving, mostly by Apparition. An elderly wizard in burgundy robes, Elphias Doge, caused a murmur of laughter by the rather stupid-looking contraption on his head that he named a hat, and Professor McGonagall Apparated with a dignified hem in front of Dedalus Diggle, a wizard about two years older than Lily who was wiping his nose on his sleeve.
   All together, there were about thirty people in the entrance hall and living room when Albus Dumbledore Apparated next to Lily, causing her to suppress a start.
   “Lily, my dear, how are you?”
   “You made me jump,” Lily laughed. “I’m fine, but what exactly is this all about?”
   Albus nodded. “May I please address the crowd?”
   “They are all at your disposal,” Lily smiled, waving her hand towards the party-like congregation. “I’m as curious as anyone else, so fire ahead.”
   Raising a hand above his head, Albus coughed twice, and, owing to the somewhat subdued nature of the gathering, everyone heard him and fell silent.
   “I see that most of you are here; wonderful. I will not take more of your time than I must, but I have called you together for a reason.” He stepped calmly on a spider from one of the salt shakers and continued. “You are some of the most loyal wizards that serve our community and the Ministry, which is why you have been asked. In light of the recent circumstances, the Ministry has done its utmost to protect our citizens. However, the actions of the Ministry are, almost by definition, made public to the wizarding community, and I believe that this age of crisis calls for something less open.”
   He glanced at everyone in turn over the rims of his half-moon glasses and the twinkle that was usually bobbing in his eyes was firm. “I propose the formation of an organization of wizards and witches, the most capable and loyal of this time, to join together as a secret organization against Lord Voldemort.”
   “I believe this to be a necessary measure and one that can do nothing but benefit the cause that we work for. I will not say more at this moment, but anyone that is not in favor of this motion may leave now, promising that he or she will not reveal what they have heard at this meeting.” He let his gaze fall upon the comfortably packed room. “Please raise your hands if you are in favor of the organization I have proposed.”
   Lily’s reaction when she found that not one person kept his or her hand down, including Alastor Moody, was quite mixed. Her own hand had, after seeing everyone else with determined and loyal expressions on their faces, raised itself, but she did not especially like the way this was turning out. It was all well and good for the rest of them to join together in a band to fight and eliminate evil, but they didn’t know some of the people they were fighting against as friends. Lily, as a matter of fact, suspected that the only reason that she knew who quite a few of the Death Eaters were was because of her Hogwarts history of tending to vanish off of the grounds. However, she was sensible enough to realize that keeping her hand down would be not only dangerous but quite idiotic. Mirroring the expressions of the rest of the guests, she hoped that her momentary hesitation had passed unnoticed.
   Albus looked quite pleased at the show of hands. “Good. Now, one of the first things necessary is to decide on several meeting places, one usual one and several emergency ones, in case anything is suspected.” He paused, and James’ hand immediately shot up, just as it had done in his Transfiguration classes, where he knew almost all of the answers.
   “James?”
   “Well, I volunteer our house for regular meetings. It’s big enough, and relatively out of Muggle reach—no one ever comes walking around here; it’s too far away from roads and other houses. We can put Muggle-repelling charms up if we need to, but—yeah. I volunteer our house—that is, if Lily doesn’t mind.”
   Lily jumped. “Mind? No, of course not.”
   Beaming, Albus looked at the rest of the group. “We have a meeting-place, then. Does anyone have suggestions for emergencies?”
   Benjy Fenwick, the lanky wizard in the green robes, spoke up. “My parents left me their house, and it’s got quite a huge basement, if we want to use that. I think we could fit all of us inside.”
   “I suggest the Shrieking Shack,” Sirius said brightly. “No one in Hogsmeade ever goes near it, because they’re scared of the wildebeest ghosts—“ here James, Peter, and Remus snickered—“and it’s got an outlet to Hogwarts.”
   “And how would you know this, Mr. Black,” Albus asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
   “Remus told me about it,” Sirius said, the picture of innocence that never would have thought of transforming into an illegal Animagi and following a werewolf off of school grounds. “He used it with permission from Madam Pomfrey, he said.”
   Lily, James, Peter, and Remus were close to suffocating with inheld laughter, but thankfully Elphias Doge interfered with his mixture of accents.
   “Oi dunno if that might be a goot idea. It’s awl dusty ‘cause people ain’t been there fer years an’ stutents arr awlful currrius ‘bout explorin’ places they shoulnna be. Oi vawlunteer my dawter’s ‘ouse.”
   “You don’t know how loyal or steadfast she is,” Caradoc Dearborn said coolly. “Or if she agrees. My place has a huge attic we could use. And it’s clean.”
   Albus winked at Sirius, who immediately gave the uncomfortable impression that he was sitting on hot pins. “Caradoc, thank you. You and Benjy will host our emergency meetings.”
   “Don’t we need to find a way of getting in touch with each other?” Remus asked. “I mean, we can’t always use word of mouth—what if someone will definitely overhear?”
   “Yeah,” Eva put in. “We ought to have some sort of ring or something that’ll light up whenever we need to meet.”
   “Whatever it is, it’d have to be unnoticed by anyone else, so we can’t make it light up,” Benjy said thoughtfully. “How about doing some sort of Occlumency thing?”
   “What,” Lily interrupted, “where you break into someone’s mind? You can’t do that to thirty people at once and you can’t transmit messages that way. All you can do is see what’s in their mind. We can’t do that.” She paused. “Albus, what do you think?”
   “I have thought about this point as well,” Albus said clearly. “I believe that we would do well to use the powers of communication that a phoenix has. It would prevent anyone from stealing a talisman that we could use and would be quite unnoticeable.” He sat down in an armchair. “Fawkes, a phoenix, is a friend of mine, and would be delighted to carry out this charge. Simply, what would occur is that each of you would, when alone, see a flash of gold light, and a phoenix feather would fall to the floor. If you are in the company of anyone else, I can perform a charm so that the light and the feather would be seen by you alone, and the feather would, even to you, disappear as soon as it touched the ground.”
   “That’s brilliant,” James said quietly. “You’re sure no one else would be able to see the glow and the feather?”
   “I am sure. I can request Fawkes to drop more than one feather to signify different meeting-places.” He nodded to Lily and James. “This house, if I may, will be classified by one feather, Benjy’s by two, and Caradoc’s by three.”
   Lily nodded. “I suppose it would be quite impossible to fit us with Time-Turners, wouldn’t it?”
   “The Ministry keeps a close watch over all in existence,” Albus said dryly. “We could not use them unnoticed, however convenient it would be, and I do not propose informing the Minstry about our organization. They would insist on being informed of our every move.”
   “Speaking of ‘organization’,” Amanda mused, “what would we be doing exactly?”
   “I think,” Kingsley Shacklebolt said, looking closely at Dumbledore, “that we do everything in our power to get rid of the Death Eaters and—and the Dark Lord—and we won’t have to answer to the public for our actions. That’s right, isn’t it, Albus?”
   “As long as we don’t do anything illegal,” Alastor Moody croaked. “That wouldn’t sit too well with the Ministry.”
   “Exactly,” Albus nodded. Before he could say anything else, though, Frank Longbottom burst in.
   “Say, shouldn’t we have a name or something? Just to make this more official?”
   “The Corporation of Against-Ministry Workings!” the auburn-haired witch said sprightly.
   “Don’t forget Fawkes,” Sirius grinned. How about ‘Fawkes’ Fantabuolous Federation For Fighters’!”
   “The Army of the Phoenix!” Lily laughed.
   “Hey, that’s good!” Kingsley said approvingly. “Except we’re not really an army.”
   “The Troupe of the Phoenix?” James asked. “No, that’s stupid.”
   “The Union of the Phoenix!”
   “That’s stupid, too,” James informed Peter rather ruthlessly. “Any other suggestions? So far, I vote for ‘The Army of the Phoenix’.”
   “The Legion of the Phoenix!”
   “The Order of the Phoenix!”
   Everyone turned around and stared at Elphias Doge in his rather ridiculous, tottering hat.
   “The Order of the Phoenix? That’s not bad,” Frank said approvingly.
   “Not stupid, not pretending we’re bigger than we are, sort of mysterious, rather unoriginal—“ Sirius grinned. “Elphias, I say we go for ‘The Order of the Phoenix’.”
   “A show of hands for ‘The Order of the Phoenix!” Dedalus Diggle called, and everyone’s hand went up immediately, causing Elphias to turn faintly pink and pull the brim of his hat over his eyes.
   The group separated an hour later, with Albus’s assurance that he would notify them when the next meeting would be held. Lily squeezed a promise out of him that he would at least inform the Potters an hour beforehand so that they could have something to eat out for the guests, and then the house was empty again.
   Lily sighed. “Well. That was certainly an interesting meeting.”
   “Quite worthwhile, too,” James said crisply. “We need something like this organization. Will you let me tell Albus that Snape’s a Death Eater now?”
   “Only if you let me tell him that you three are illegal Animagi,” Lily scowled. “Severus could help us, you know. He couldn’t officially tell the Ministry anything, because he’d be under arrest before you could say ‘clap him in irons’, but he can tell Albus things—like when meetings are held, who’s in danger—things like that.”
   James raised his eyebrows. “You think he’d actually risk his precious, oily skin for the right and moral thing to do? Voldemort kills people for less than that.”
   Lily slumped in her chair. “I guess you’re right. No one could ask that of him.”
   “Ex—er—ah.”
   Looking up sharply, Lily caught a mischievous glint in James’ eyes. “What on earth are you planning?”
   “Nothing.”
   “James!”
   “I’m not going to harm your weasly little friend any more than he can recover from. Would I ever?”
   Lily burst out laughing at the faux-innocent look on his face. “Oh, you!”
   James grinned suavely. “Handsome, brilliant, genteel, noble, kind, and irresistible me, yes. You may scrub my shoes for a Sickle.”
   “Narcissistic you,” Lily laughed, kissing him.
   “I resent that remark. I believe that Narcissus was blond.”
   “If my mind recalls the past correctly, I believe that you were blond for some time at Hogwarts...”
   “We have work tomorrow, don’t we?” asked James, quickly overriding her last statement.
   Two weeks later, Albus sent everyone involved in the Order a fixed date for the next Order of the Phoenix meeting and a warning to burn the letters. This, he warned in the letter, would be the only time that written information would be sent out, and the reason that he wrote to them all was to warn them not to use Floo Powder, as the Ministry was scrupulously watching the Floo network for any signs of danger, large congregations, or illegal activity.
   The day after Lily and James had received notification of the meeting, Arthur Weasley showed up at the Ministry almost bouncing everywhere on the balls of his feet. He hummed to himself in his office, circled dates on the new calendar he had hung right over his tattered diagram of an electrical socket, and acted altogether more cheerful than anyone in the Ministry had done since Lord Voldemort’s power had increased—or, actually, since Alastor had been re-named Mad-Eye…
   James delivered a memo from Mr. Merriwether to Arthur at around lunchtime, finally getting a chance to ask him what on earth the cheeriness was all about.
   “Hm? Oh, ah, my boy. Nothing, really.” Absently, he hummed the beginnings of a tune that James recognized as “Hush, little baby, don’t say a word…”
   “Arthur, have you completely gone off your rocker? What did Fred and George do to you? Or was it Bill? If it was, is it my fault?”
   Conspiratorially, Arthur leaned towards James, almost knocking over an inkwell. “Molly thinks we’re having another baby!” he whispered, grinning from ear to ear.
   “Really?” James asked, the grin sprouting on his own face. “That’s great, Arthur, really great. When do you think it’ll be here?”
   “Oh, late February, early March…something like that.” Arthur resumed humming and sat back down at his desk. “I’ve got your forms here…there they are.” He held out a sheaf of papers to James, who took them cheerfully. “And a good day to you!”
   “Good morning, Arthur,” James called, leaving the office and almost running into a squat, dumpy witch with grey wisps of hair sticking out jauntily from her head.
   He told Lily that evening, as she was sitting before her vanity, removing a necklace, and he couldn’t quite measure her reaction. Her face was somewhat puckered up, as if she had been sucking on a lemon, but there was a smile twinkling about the corners of her mouth.
   “I’m happy for them—they love children. Yes, I’m glad.”
   James knew that it would be quite out of the question to ask her anything about having children themselves, so he dropped the subject with a sigh and let his head fall back onto the stack of pillows. Vera, now a full-grown, sleek cat, stretched herself out contentedly on his stomach as he watched Lily lazily.
   He remembered talking to her in the Gryffindor common room when he had just admitted to his friends that he definitely felt something for her…she had been wearing a long, white nightgown, and her long, dark red hair was falling down her back. She did not look that much different now, James mused, though there was something definite about her that had changed. She hadn’t grown taller, but what some would call baby fat was gone from her arms, and her cheekbones were more pronounced. Her fingers were long and slender, not as much as he knew Litharelen’s were, but they were so compared to the hands of an average human.
   Her hair, too, was longer; it reached almost to her knees. It was usually bound up in old-fashioned coiled braids or knots when she was at work, or simply in quick bundles, so that James hardly ever had a chance to see how long it was. Her hair had stopped growing darker in her seventh year; it was a dark, vibrant shade of auburn. With a smile, he remembered the fiery girl whose hair could be classified by no other words than “bright red” and his friendship with her in first year. She had changed quite a bit, yes…but she hadn’t aged.
   Her eyes could still pass for those of an average seventeen-year-old; the deaths of her parents or Litharelen had not changed them. They were still the way they had been in seventh year—sparkling, dark forest green, mischievous, and puzzling when one looked into them because of the far-off silver mist shimmering about the green and black. That mist would never go away, James realized; it was a permanent mark of her history in Albania.
   Altogether, she carried herself elegantly, as if she had been born into the noblesse of England, and the green dressing-gown she wore suited her vastly. She paid no real attention to her nails, so that some of them were broken clumsily by the odd accident, but the unbroken ones were long.
   Suddenly, Lily felt a funny prickling at the back of her neck, and she whirled towards James, spoiling his private moment of admiration. “Were you staring at me?”
   “Yeah,” he admitted. “You’re quite pretty.”
   Lily flushed a faint pink, snapping the lid of her jewel casket shut with a pleased smile. “Er—thank you.”
   Yes, James thought privately, he knew exactly why Snape would risk his precious, oily skin for the right and moral thing to do.
   The evening before the next meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, Arthur and Molly invited Lily and James over to their house for dinner at seven. Lily was quite excited, and so was James; they had not really had much of a chance to socialize with anyone lately, because of the moderate chaos at the Ministry. True, they saw Sirius quite a lot, as well as Remus and Peter, but whenever they came over for dinner, the conversation always centered around work, which did not intentionally happen, but it couldn’t be helped. Each of the friends had admitted that they hated talking and thinking about work constantly, but it couldn’t be helped.
   They did not all work at the Ministry; Peter now had a job with the Daily Prophet as the assistant to the manager of advertising coordination. Remus, unfortunately, was out of his post as secretary to the head of the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (he had been fired fifteen times since Hogwarts, owing to his “personal defect”), so that he was lethargically sitting at home, scanning the Daily Prophet for job advertisements that did not sound as if they would turn down a werewolf. Unfortunately, they usually did.
   James had warned Lily not to dress in anything elegant or fancy, not that she would have done, knowing, as she did, the financial situation of the Weasleys, but because Sirius had slipped Bill a couple of bottles of Spreading-Vomit Drops. These concoctions were from an out-of-the-way shop in Diagon Alley that was usually overlooked, and, if one drop of the mixture was placed onto a garment or other surface, a large pile of vomit would quickly spread itself over about fifteen square inches. The smell, James added, was about three or four days old.
   Dressed in casual navy blue robes, the two Apparated into the Weasleys’ house, to be greeted with a splendidly delicious aroma of a mixture of chicken, spaghetti, some sort of meat gravy, mashed potatoes, and raspberry pie and a stampede from the upstairs. Two voices that Lily recognized as belonging to Charlie and Bill were fighting for the loudest penetration to the eardrums while their owners were racing down the rickety stairs.
   “They’re here! They’re here! They’re hereherehereherehere!”
   “OW!”
   “Go ‘way! JAAAAAMES!”
   “He’s MINE!”
   “OWW!!”
   “Charlie, don’t trip your brother,” Mr. Weasley sighed, watching the mad dash down the stairs, across the kitchen, and into the hallway.
   “Me first! Me first! Me first!”
   Lily finally realized what the two were fighting about; James usually swung the boys over his head whenever he saw them, and they were squabbling over first swing. Bill won, his legs being longer, but Charlie’s legs came in danger of hitting the ceiling, he was swung so high.
   “Hallo, Bill! Hallo, Charlie! Not driven your mum mad yet, have you?” James grinned, ruffling their hair. “Evening, Arthur. How’s Molly?”
   “Busy,” Arthur smiled. “Fred and George are driving her bats. Somehow, they’ve managed to get hold of something called Spreading-Vomit Drops, and we’re usually stepping in a mess. We’ve confiscated most of the bottles, though, but you might have to watch your step.”
   James stared guiltily at his shoes, and Lily laughed. “Fred and George are getting to be worse than Bill, are they?”
   “Hullo, James, Lily,” Molly said cheerfully, leaning on the doorframe that led to the kitchen. “Come on in; we’re mostly gathered in here. FRED, PUT THAT FORK DOWN THIS MINUTE!”
   She disappeared into the kitchen, scolding, as she wrenched a fork covered in mashed potatoes out of the one-and-a-half-year-old’s hands; he had been aiming it at the wall.
   “I don’t know if it’s a good thing that they can walk now,” Arthur grinned. “They’re taking after Bill. Come on, let’s join Molly.”
   Dinner was served in a twinkling, with both Lily and Molly whisking food, plates, glasses, cups, and silverware onto the table, and in almost no time, the twins were seated triumphantly in their highchairs, Percy, the almost-four-year-old, was seriously studying Lily and James across the table in wide, unblinking eyes, Charlie and Bill had scrambled into their grown-up chairs, and the adults were passing bowls of food around the table.
   Bill and Charlie insisted on dominating the conversation even with their mouths full (with Molly’s vigorous protests on the latter part of their behavior), and they provided a pleasant reprieve from the usual during-dinner talk. Telling rapturous stories about the pumpkins they were growing for Halloween and the way they had accidentally drowned Percy’s pride and joy of a very tiny pumpkin when they broke a bottle of Spreading-Vomit Drops next to his patch of garden, the two were universally laughed at and with. It was not quite ascertained whether or not this had been done on purpose, however, as Percy had previously knocked over an ink bottle right over Charlie’s favorite hand-knitted Christmas sweater.
   The evening slipped away quickly, and the company gravitated to the living room, where Charlie dominated James’ lap, Bill snuggled in between James and Lily, immediately falling asleep, and Lily cradled Fred in one arm while Molly became the resting-place for George. Percy, a sleepy little owlish-eyed creature, settled drowsily onto his father’s lap, trying very hard to listen to the conversation.
   Arthur had been looking a bit troubled all evening, and it was not until all of the children had fallen asleep that he burst out with what was on his mind.
   “Say, James, haven’t you been at the brunt of a few attacks?”
   “Yeah,” James said, puzzled. “But not more than, say, Mad-Eye. Not really, anyway. Why?”
   Arthur fidgeted nervously. “I just—I just think that you’re getting attacked more than anyone else. Or escaping attacks. I—I mean, look at those Aurors that were killed in that tavern minutes after you left—or—or that raid with Mad-Eye that flubbed. I’m not really the only one that’s noticed. Merriwether has, too, and so has Mad-Eye.”
   “Oh.” James frowned. “I guess—maybe, if you think about it…”
   “Arthur, what is it?” Lily interrupted.
   “Unm-umg-lehg,” Charlie murmured sleepily, but without opening his eyes. Casting a nervous look at his son, Arthur rushed into what he had been holding back all evening.
   “I think that you’re in danger. I really do. I don’t know why, and I don’t need to know why, but I’ve got an idea for you two—that is, if you want to take it.” He halted, searching for their reactions, but Molly nudged him.
   “Go on, Arthur.”
   “Ye-es. Well. I’ve been researching Muggles quite a bit—well, they’re my department, of course—and I know You-Know-Who wants to—ah—kill them off, but…”
   “Go on, Arthur,” Molly repeated.
   “I think it would be quite a good idea for those of the Ministry that are most in danger of You-Know-Who to disguise themselves as Muggles,” Arthur said quickly. “I mean, there’s less of a chance of you being—killed, if you’re one of millions of Muggles, than if You-Know-Who knows who you are and wants to kill you. I—I’m not saying definitely that he does in your case, but I pretty well think so, and—and I want to give you an idea.” He was talking very fast by now, trying to get his bit over with. “Just think it over, will you?”
   “We’ll think about it,” James promised. “However,” he grinned, “with Lily here being so adverse to any sort of hiding, I don’t know if she’d let me. You know how women are, Molly.”
   Lily smiled into Fred’s blanket as she tucked it neatly around his feet, and Arthur and Molly laughed quietly. “Thanks,” Arthur murmured. “I really do want to help, and—“
   “We know,” Lily reassured him. “Thank you, Arthur.” She cast a disquieting glance down at the sleepy drool on her robes and wrinkled her nose. “Molly, do you suppose it’s time for this one to get to bed?”
   “Oh, yes,” Molly exclaimed. “Arthur, do help me, won’t you?”
   “We all will,” Lily volunteered. “Here, I’ll take George, too.”
   Armed with the five sleeping boys, the four adults tiptoed up the stairs, slipped the children inside their respective beds, and tried as hard as they could to avoid the creaking steps on their way down.
   “Well, that’s that,” Molly sighed. “Arthur, if you want to talk to the folks, I’ll get the dishes.”
   “I’ll help,” Lily said, jumping up. “I’d love to. Slenka gets all the busy amusing things to do around our house and we just sit around, like the useless lumps we are.” She laughed. “This will be fun!”
   A few minutes later, Lily was ensconced elbow-deep in soapy water, trying to scrub a pan clean, and Molly was sorting forks, knives, and spoons into a drawer.
   “I almost forgot!” Lily exclaimed, dropping the pan. “Congratulations on the baby, Molly!”
   Molly smiled, pleased, and continued sorting forks. “Thank you. We—we think it’ll be here around May or June.”
   Lily frowned. “I thought—James told me that Arthur had said March or February.”
   “Oh.” Molly blushed. “Yes—yes, March.”
   A bit confused, Lily picked up the pan again and started scrubbing absent-mindedly. “Why’d you say May or June at first?”
   “It was a mistake, that’s all. I do have a lot to remember, what with Bill and Charlie and the twins...”
   “Yes, but that’s the date of your baby’s birth. And if you had just found out about it, that would make it May or June…Molly, what—what’s happened? Is anything wrong?”
   “Nothing’s wrong,” Molly sighed, sinking into a chair. “Not really. It’s going to be late February or early March. I just didn’t want to tell Arthur at first.” She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “He had been saying that he didn’t want to bring another child up in these times…and I understood, and I agree, too, really, but when I knew about this one”—she patted her stomach—“I didn’t know what Arthur would want me to do. I suppose it was unreasonable, but I didn’t want him to know. At least, not until this world got a bit more stable.”
   She laced her fingers together, and Lily pulled out a chair from underneath the kitchen table, drawing it close to Molly. “I wanted him to promise that he would let me keep this one—and it is ridiculous to think, knowing Arthur, but I was just so scared…You-Know-Who isn’t to be trifled with, and I didn’t know what kind of an effect all of this chaos would have on Arthur. I wanted to wait a long time to tell him…but then the Ministry won that raid in south Shropshire, and I didn’t think it would be good to wait much longer.”
   “Oh,” Lily murmured. “I see.”
   Molly looked up nervously. “Lily, I was the one that wanted Arthur to tell you about hiding as Muggles,” she confided. “I figured that if I was too scared now to tell even him about this new one, then people that You-Know-Who attacked more than—than, well—normal…that those people should get out of the way and into hiding as soon as possible…I don’t want anything happening to you two.”
   Lily blinked and found, to her surprise, that she had tears in her eyes. “Oh, Molly,” she whispered, pulling her into a hug.
   “I mean it,” Molly insisted. “You two need to be safe. You’re communicating with people like that Severus Snape, and he was part of that bad group of kids at Hogwarts in Slytherin that turned out some Death Eaters that were caught. Please, Lily—think this over. And James, too.”
   “I will,” Lily promised. “But we’ll be all right. We usually are.”
   Not convinced, Molly shrugged. “Well, I’d better finish up with the kitchen.”
   “The water!” Lily exclaimed. The sink was close to overflowing with suds and hot, soapy dishwater, and only the well-aimed spell from Molly’s wand could have stopped the flow of water before it spilled onto the kitchen tiles.