"Well, well, well," Johnny grinned, seeing one of his best friends sat at the kitchen table. "If it isn't Mia Blackwood herself, deciding to grace us with her presence."

"Shut up, dickhead," Mia smiled, rolling her eyes. "Hug me you cunt-"

"Watch your mouth!" Elena scolded her daughter, causing Damon to laugh and Mia to roll her eyes.

"Hug me at least," Mia pouted, holding out her arms. "I haven't seen you since you died, and there's no need to be jealous, Granger, Johnny here is like my older brother."

Johnny grinned at Hermione as she blushed embarrassedly, hiding her face behind her bushy hair. Johnny sat on Hermione's left, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her head.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked, high-fiving Kieran.

"Good, you trying out for Quidditch this year?" Kieran asked interestedly, crossing his arms.

"M-maybe," Ron said quietly so Fred and George wouldn't hear.

"Mr. Price, where's Tom?" Mia asked, sitting on Johnny's right. "He said he was coming here too."

"Change of plans," Marcus grinned. "He's visiting Selena. The Raywood's aren't able to attend the meet due to David, so Tom is helping them out."

"Queen Bee Selena?" Johnny asked in shock.

"They're sort of friends," Dianne piped up from where she was helping.

"Oh please," Mia laughed. "Anyone with a pair of eyes can tell Tom is completely smitten with Ms. Popular."

"You heard off Pansy?" Johnny asked Mia. Mia nodded, sending a dark look Dani's way, who avoided their gaze.

"Her and Dani broke up," Mia whispered, nodding her head towards Dani who was sat in between Kieran and Ron, chatting, but glancing at Johnny and Mia as if they were going to attack her. "Don't tell P I told you, she wanted to tell you herself, but it was quite a nasty break up, only happened a few days ago. Dani done it over a letter-"

"She fucking what?" Johnny hissed, removing his arm from Hermione's shoulder and sitting up straighter.

"Let me finish before you kill her," Mia said, flicking Johnny's head. "Dani told Pansy that her feelings wasn't real, that she only did it because Pansy was hot and looked like a quick fuck."

Johnny seethed in his seat, he wasn't going to yell and attack the girl, he had something else in my mind.

"Remus, Mia and I want to talk to you," Johnny said, raising from his seat.

"You do?" Remus said, furrowing his eyebrows.

"We do?" Said Mia, glaring at Johnny.

"We do," Johnny said glancing at Dani. "In private."

Remus followed both kids into the living room, where Johnny shut the door and locked it with a wave of his wand.

"Are you aware that your daughter plays with girls feelings?" Johnny asked, getting straight to the point.

"What?" Remus asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "Dani wouldn't do that."

"Then why did I get a letter from Pansy a few days ago saying that Dani broke up with her through letter, claiming that Dani only found her hot and a quick fuck?" Mia asked rhetorically, holding out a worn piece of parchment. "See, you can even see Pansy's tear stains, our best friend is heartbroken, Remus."

"I'll talk to her later tonight," Remus muttered quietly. "I never expected Dani to do this, she had always been so sweet."

Mia, Remus and Johnny walked into everyone helping Molly with the food. Johnny, however, decided to join the conversation Harry was having with Sirius and Mundungus Fletcher.

"-Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time... asking me how the cleaning's going-"

"Sirius, cleaning?" asked Johnny sarcastically, sitting next to Harry. "Bloody hell, the world must be ending."

"Piss off, Johnny, we're trying to make this place fit for human habitation," said Sirius, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in ages-"

"Sirius," said Mundungus Fletcher, who didn't appear to have paid any attention to the conversation, but had been closely examining an empty goblet. "This solid silver, mate?"

"Yes," said Sirius, surveying it with distaste. "Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"That'd come orf, though," muttered Mundungus, polishing it with his cuff.

"Fred--George--NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

Johnny, Harry, Sirius and Mundungus looked around and, within a split second, they had dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of Butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air towards them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface; the flagon of Butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere; the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's right hand had been seconds before.

"A near death experience is always good for the heart," Damon said casually, sitting opposite Johnny.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" screamed Mrs. Weasley. "THERE WAS NO NEED-- I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS-- JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" said Fred, hurrying forward to wrench the bread knife out of the table. "Sorry, Sirius, mate--didn't mean to-"

Johnny, Harry and Sirius were laughing; Mundungus, who had toppled backwards off his chair, was swearing as he got to his feet; Crookshanks and Quorra had given angry hisses and shot off under the dresser.

"Boys," Elena said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, "your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age-"

"Don't be such a spoilsport, Mum!" Mia groaned, slumping into a seat next to her father.

"--none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins as she slammed a fresh flagon of Butterbeer onto the table, and spilling almost as much again. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy-"

She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden.

"Let's eat," said Bill quickly.

"It looks wonderful, Molly," said Remus, ladling stew on to a plate for her and handing it across the table.

For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius.

"I've been meaning to tell you, Sirius, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out."

"I'll do it after dinner," Johnny offered, buttering some bread.

"You sure that's a good idea, mate?" Kieran asked. "Remember what happened third year?"

"Jakob Grindelwald doesn't scare me anymore," Johnny lied, his eye twitching. Hermione could tell instantly that his father did in fact still scare the living daylights out of him.

"I'll come with you," Hermione offered, taking Johnny's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"No need," Johnny said with fake confidence, pecking Hermione's lips. "You go to bed, I won't be to long."

"The curtains in there are full of doxys, too," Mrs. Weasley went on. "I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," said Sirius. Johnny heard the sarcasm in his voice, but he wasn't sure that anyone else did.

Opposite Johnny, Tonks was entertaining Ginny and Mia by transforming her nose between mouthfuls. Screwing up her eyes each time with a pained expression, her nose swelled to a beak-like protuberance that resembled Snape's, shrank to the size of a button mushroom and then sprouted a great deal of hair from each nostril. Apparently this was a regular mealtime entertainment, because Ginny and Mia were soon requesting her favourite noses.

Mr. Weasley, Kieran's parents, Bill, and Lupin were having an intense discuss on about goblins.

"They're not giving anything away yet," said Bill. "I still can't work out whether or not they believe he's back. Course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it."

"I'm sure they'd never go over to You-Know-Who," said Mr. Weasley, shaking his head. "They've suffered losses too; remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?"

"I think it depends what they're offered," said Lupin. "And I'm not talking about gold. If they're offered the freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?"

"He's feeling pretty anti-wizard at the moment," said Bill, "he hasn't stopped raging about the Bagman business, he reckons the Ministry did a cover-up, those goblins never got their gold from him, you know-"

A gale of laughter from the middle of the table drowned the rest of Bill's words. Damon, Fred, George, Kieran, Ron, and Mundungus were rolling around in their seats.

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus," said Mrs. Weasley sharply, as Ron slumped forwards on to the table, howling with laughter.

"Beg pardon, Molly," said Mundungus at once, wiping his eyes and winking at Harry and Johnny. "But, you know, Will nicked 'em orf Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing nothing wrong-"

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons," said Mrs. Weasley coldly.

"Not even seven hours here and the atmosphere is toxic," Hermione whispered in Johnny's ear. "What was your conversation with Remus and Mia about?"

"I'll tell you after, darling," Johnny whispered back to her, kissing her quickly. "I love you."

"I love you too," Hermione smiled.

Three helpings of rhubarb crumble and custard later and the waistband on Johnny's jeans was feeling uncomfortably tight. As he laid down his spoon there was a lull in the general conversation. Mr. Weasley was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed, Tonks was yawning widely, her nose now back to normal, and Ginny, who had lured Crookshanks out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling Butterbeer corks for him to chase.

"Well we must be off," said Elena, flicking her wand. Suddenly, three coats shot into the Blackwood's hands.

"I'll see you at school," Mia said, hugging Johnny tightly.

"You bet," Johnny grinned. Kieran and his parents left soon after the Blackwood's, leaving the Black's, the Weasley's, Harry, Hermione, Tonks and Johnny. "I'm going to get started on that Boggart."

And with that, Johnny left the table and headed up stairs. Johnny entered the room Mrs. Weasley mentioned and the Boggart burst out straight away.

Crack!

Boggart Jakob laughed crazily, a silver dagger aimed at the Hermione's swelling stomach.

"Hermione is a little thing," the Boggart spoke, frightening Johnny. "The Mudblood deserves to be punished! And those little Half-Breed bastards in her belly!"

Tears threatened to spill out of Johnny's eyes as he raised his wand.

"R-R-Riddikulus!" Johnny yelled, but the Boggart didn't change.

"Look at you!" Boggart-Jakob yelled. "You're pathetic! You're weak! You're my biggest regret!"

"P-please," Johnny sobbed, collapsing to his nears with a loud thud.

"Please what, Johnny?" Boggart-Jakob asked sarcastically, digging the knife deeper into fake-Hermione's stomach. "Please kill my Mudblood girlfriend and my filthy Half-Breed kids?"

"P-please!Don't hurt her!" Johnny yelled, clutching his head in his hands.

Johnny hardly ever cried, not even as a baby, but he did now. He sobbed into his hands as his father yelled insults to him.

Crack!

"Ridikulus!" Johnny heard someone yell, and the boy looked up to see Tonks and Hermione stood in front of him, both panting heavily from running up the stairs.

"Let's get you to bed," Tonks muttered, her and Hermione lifting him up by the arms.

"Mum says get up, your breakfast is in the kitchen and then she needs you in the drawing room, there are loads more Doxys than she thought and she's found a nest of dead Puffskeins under the sofa," Ginny said the next morning, knocking on the door to Hermione and Johnny's room. The couple groaned in response, Hermione even throwing her pillow at the door.

"How're you feeling, darling?" Hermione asked with a yawn, her brown eyes meeting Johnny's ocean blue ones.

"Better now," Johnny said quietly, a small smile stretching across his face as he ran his right hand through Hermione's bushy locks, his left hand stroking her bare waist. They didn't do "it" the night before, out of respect for Sirius's home, but Hermione was only her underwear.

"I love you," Hermione whispered, stroking Johnny's cheek with her thumb. "So, so, so much."

"I love you too," Johnny mumbled, giving Hermione a long kiss. Half an hour later, Hermione and Johnny had dressed and ate breakfast quickly. They entered the drawing room with Harry and Ron at their side. The drawing room was a long, high-ceilinged room on the first floor with olive green walls covered in dirty tapestries. The carpet exhaled little clouds of dust every time someone put their foot on it and the long, moss green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees. It was around these that Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Fred and George were grouped, all looking rather peculiar as they had each tied a cloth over their nose and mouth. Each of them was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with anozzle at the end.

"Cover your faces and take a spray," Mrs. Weasley said to Hermione, Harry and Ron the moment she saw them, pointing to two more bottles of black liquid standing on a spindle-legged table. "It's Doxycide. I've never seen an infestation this bad - what that house-elf's been doing for the last ten years-"

Hermione's face was half concealed by a tea towel now but Johnny distinctly saw her throw a reproachful look at Mrs. Weasley.

"Kreacher's really old, he probably couldn't manage-"

"You'd be surprised what Kreacher can manage when he wants to, Hermione," said Sirius, who had just entered the room carrying a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. "I've just been feeding Buckbeak," he added, in reply to Johnny's enquiring look. "I keep him upstairs in my mothers bedroom. Anyway... this writing desk..."

He dropped the bag of rats into an armchair, then bent over to examine the locked cabinet which, Johnny now noticed for the first time, was shaking slightly.

"Well, Molly, I'm pretty sure this is another Boggart," said Sirius, peering through the keyhole, then back at Johnny who tensed, "but perhaps we ought to let Mad-Eye have a shifty at it before we let it out - knowing my mother, it could be something much worse."

"Right you are, Sirius," said Mrs. Weasley.

A loud, clanging bell sounded from downstairs, followed at once by the cacophony of screams and wails that had been triggered the previous night by Tonks knocking over the umbrella stand.

"I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!" said Sirius exasperatedly, hurrying out of the room.

They heard him thundering down the stairs as Mrs. Black's screeches echoed up through the house once more: "Stains, of dishonor, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth!"

"Close the door, please, Johnny," said Mrs. Weasley.

Johnny took as much time as he dared to close the drawing-room door; he wanted to listen to what was going on downstairs. Sirius had obviously managed to shut the curtains over his mother's portrait because she had stopped screaming. Johnny heard Sirius walking down the hall, then the clattering of the chain on the front door, and then a deep voice he recognised as Kingsley's saying, "Hestia's just relieved me, so she's got Moody's Cloak now, thought I'd leave a report for Dumbledore..."

Feeling Mrs. Weasley's eyes on the back of his head, Johnny regretfully closed the drawing-room door and rejoined the Doxy party.

Mrs. Weasley was bending over to check the page on Doxys in Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests, which was lying open on the sofa.

"Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because Doxys bite and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody needed it."

She straightened up, positioned herself squarely in front of the curtains and beckoned them all forward.

"When I say the word, start spraying immediately," she said. "They'll come flying out at us, I expect, but it says on the sprays one good squirt will paralyse them. When they're immobilized, just throw them in this bucket." She stepped carefully out of their line of fire, and raised her own spray. "All right - squirt!"

Johnny had been spraying only a few seconds when a fully-grown Doxy came soaring out of a fold in the material, shiny beetle-like wings whirring, tiny needle-sharp teeth bared, its fairy-like body covered with thick black hair and its four tiny fists clenched with fury. Johnny caught it full in the face with a blast of Doxycide. It froze in midair and fell, with a surprisingly loud hunk, on to the worn carpet below. Johnny picked it up and threw it in the bucket.

"This is grim," Johnny groaned.

"Fred, what are you doing?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply. "Spray that at once and throw it away!" The others looked round. Fred was holding a struggling Doxy between his forefinger and thumb.

"Right-o," Fred said brightly, spraying the Doxy quickly in the face so that it fainted, but the moment Mrs. Weasley's back was turned he pocketed it with a wink. "We want to experiment with Doxy venom for our Skiving Snackboxes," George told Harry and Johnny under his breath.

"Joke shop still on, then?" Johnny muttered, pretending to be adjusting the nozzle on his spray.

"Well, we haven't had a chance to get premises yet," said Fred, dropping his voice even lower as Mrs. Weasley mopped her brow with her scarf before returning to the attack, "so we're running it as a mail-order service at the moment. We put advertisements in the Daily Prophet last week."

"All thanks to Harry, mate," said George. "But don't worry... Mum hasn't got a clue. She won't read the Daily Prophet any more, 'cause of it telling lies about you, Harry and Dumbledore."

The de-Doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past midday when Mrs. Weasley finally removed her protective scarf, sank into a sagging armchair and sprang up again with a cry of disgust, having sat on the bag of dead rats. The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying. At the foot of them unconscious Doxys lay crammed in the bucket beside a bowl of their black eggs, at which Crookshanks and Quorra were now sniffing and Fred and George were shooting covetous looks.

"I think we'll tackle those after lunch," Mrs. Weasley pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages Johnny couldn't understand and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what Johnny was quite sure was blood.

The clanging doorbell rang again. Everyone looked at Mrs. Weasley.

"Stay here," she said firmly, snatching up the bag of rats as Mrs. Black's screeches started up again from down below. "I'll bring up some sandwiches."

She left the room, closing the door carefully behind her. At once, everyone dashed over to the window to look down on the doorstep. They could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a stack of precariously balanced cauldrons.

"Mundungus!" said Hermione. "What's he brought all those cauldrons for?"

"Probably looking for a safe place to keep them," said Harry. "Isn't that what he was doing the night he was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?"

"Yeah, you're right!" said Fred, as the front door opened; Mundungus heaved his cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. "Blimey, Mum won't like that..."

He and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening closely. Mrs. Black's screaming had stopped.

"Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley," Fred muttered, frowning with concentration. "Can't hear properly... d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?"

"Might be worth it," said George. "I could sneak up stairs and get a pair -"

But at that precise moment there was an explosion of sound from downstairs that rendered Extendable Ears quite unnecessary. All of them could hear exactly what Mrs. Weasley was shouting at the top of her voice.

"WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!"

"Aw shit, here we go again," Johnny said with a laugh.

"I love hearing Mum shouting at someone else," said Fred, with a satisfied smile on his face as he opened the door an inch or so to allow Mrs. Weasley's voice to permeate the room better, "it makes such a nice change."

"- COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE -"

"The idiots are letting her get into her stride," said George, shaking his head. "You've got to head her off early otherwise she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. And she's been dying to have a go at Mundungus ever since he sneaked off when he was supposed to be following you, Harry - and there goes Sirius's mum again."

Mrs. Weasley's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall. Johnny made to shut the door to drown the noise, but before he could do so, a house-elf edged into the room.

Except for the filthy rag tied like a loincloth around its middle, it was completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be several times too big for it and, though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and watery grey and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike.

The elf took absolutely no notice of Johnny and the rest. Acting as though it could not see them, it shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under its breath in a hoarse, deep voice like a bullfrogs.

"... smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with her brats messing up my mistress's house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do... the only good one is the King!"

"Hello, Kreacher," said Fred very loudly, closing the door with a snap.

The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.

"Kreacher did not see young master," he said, turning around and bowing to Fred. Still facing the carpet, he added, perfectly audibly, "Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is."

"Sorry?" said George. "Didn't catch that last bit."

"Kreacher said nothing," said the elf, with a second bow to George, adding in a clear undertone, "and there's its twin, unnatural little beasts they are."

Johnny didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Kreacher's King," Kreacher bowed deeply to Johnny. "Kreacher welcomes you graciously into his Mistresses home... and there's the Mudblood Queen-"

"As your King," Johnny put extra emphasis around King. "I order you to address Hermione as her true title of Queen, are we clear?"

"Yes, my King," Kreacher bowed deeply. "Kreacher is sorry for disrespecting the Queen in such a way."

"This is Harry, Kreacher," said Hermione tentatively. "Harry Potter."

Kreacher's pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever.

"The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company, oh, what would she say -"

"Did you not hear me?!" Roared Johnny, mid-shift, a clawed hand grabbing for Kreacher's sheet, but Hermione's own clawed hand dunk into his wrist, causing the Alpha to whine in pain.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione growled, her purple eyes staring into Johnny's red ones, "he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's -"

"Don't kid yourself, Hermione, he knows exactly what he's saying," said Fred, eyeing Kreacher with great dislike.

Kreacher was still muttering, his eyes on Harry.

"Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's the boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it-"

"Don't we all, Kreacher," said Fred.

"What do you want, anyway?" George asked.

Kreacher's huge eyes darted towards George.

"Kreacher is cleaning," he said evasively.

"A likely story," said a voice behind them.

Sirius had come back; he was glowering at the elf from the doorway. The noise in the hall had abated; perhaps Mrs. Weasley and Mundungus had moved their argument down into the kitchen.

At the sight of Sirius, Kreacher flung himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his snoutlike nose on the floor.

"Stand up straight," said Sirius impatiently. "Now, what are you up to?"

"Kreacher is cleaning," the elf repeated. "Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black -"

"And it's getting blacker every day, it's filthy," said Sirius.

"Ironic," Johnny snorted, holding his healing wrist.

"Master always liked his little joke," said Kreacher, bowing again, and continuing in an undertone, "Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart -"

"My mother didn't have a heart, Kreacher," snapped Sirius. "She kept herself alive out of pure spite."

Kreacher bowed again as he spoke.

"Whatever Master says," he muttered furiously. "Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kreacher serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was -"

"I asked you what you were up to," said Sirius coldly. "Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out."

"Kreacher would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house," said the elf, then muttered very fast, "Mistress would never forgive Kreacher if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it's been in the family, Kreacher must save it, Kreacher will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it -"

"I thought it might be that," said Sirius, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. "She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt, but if I can get rid of it I certainly will. Now go away, Kreacher."

It seemed that Kreacher did not dare disobey a direct order; nevertheless, the look he gave Sirius as he shuffled out past him was full of deepest loathing and he muttered all the way out of the room.

"- comes back with his filthy Half-Breed husband, ordering Kreacher around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he's back-"

"Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!" said Sirius irritably as he slammed the door shut on the elf.

"Sirius, he's not right in the head," Hermione pleaded, "I don't think he realises we can hear him."

"He's been alone too long," said Sirius, "taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to himself, but he was always a foul little -"

"If you could just set him free," said Hermione hopefully, "maybe -"

"We can't set him free, he knows too much about the Order" said Sirius curtly. "And anyway, the shock would kill him. You suggest to him that he leaves this house, see how he takes it."

Sirius walked across the room to where the tapestry Kreacher had been trying to protect hung the length of the wall. Johnny and the others followed. The tapestry looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though Doxys had gnawed it in places. Nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show them a sprawling family tree dating back (as far as Johnny could tell) to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

"You're not on here!" said Harry, after scanning the bottom of the tree closely.

"I used to be there," said Sirius, pointing at a small, round, charred hole in the tapestry, rather like a cigarette burn. "My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home - Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."

"You ran away from home?"

"When I was about sixteen," said Sirius. "I'd had enough."

"Where did you go?" asked Harry, staring at him.

"Potter Manor," said Sirius. "Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a third child. Yeah, I camped out at the Manor in the school holidays, and when I was seventeen I got a place of my own. My Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold - he's been wiped off here, too, that's probably why - anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mr. and Mrs. Potter's for Sunday lunch, though."

"But why did you...?" Johnny went to ask.

"Leave?" Sirius smiled bitterly and ran his fingers through his long, unkempt hair. "Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them... that's him."

Sirius jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name Regulus Black. A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth.

"He was younger than me," said Sirius, "and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded."

"But he died," said Johnny said sadly. Hermione gave his hand a squeeze

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Stupid idiot... he joined the Death Eaters."

"You're kidding!" Said Harry.

"Come on, Harry, haven't you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards my family were?" said Sirius testily.

"Were - were your parents Death Eaters as well?" Harry continued asking.

"No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having pure-bloods in charge. They weren't alone, either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colours, who thought he had the right idea about things... they got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first."

"Was he killed by an Auror?" Johnny asked tentatively.

"Oh, no," said Sirius. "No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely; I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death."

"Lunch," said Mrs. Weasleys voice.

She was holding her wand high in front of her, balancing a huge tray loaded with sandwiches and cake on its tip. She was very red in the face and still looked angry. The others moved over to her, eager for some food, but Harry and Johnny remained with Sirius, who had bent closer to the tapestry.

"I haven't looked at this for years. There's Phineas Nigellus... my great-great-grandfather, see?... least popular Headmaster Hogwarts ever had... and Araminta Mehflua... cousin of my mothers... tried to force through a Ministry Bill to make Muggle-hunting legal... and dear Aunt Elladora... she started the family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays... of course, any time the family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. I see Tonks isn't on here. Maybe that's why Kreacher won't take orders from her - he's supposed to do whatever anyone in the family asks him -"

"You and Tonks are related?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Oh, yeah, her mother Andromeda was my favorite cousin," said Sirius, examining the tapestry closely. "No, Andromeda's not on here either, look -"

He pointed to another small round burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narcissa.

"Andromeda's sisters are still here because they made lovely, respectable pure-blood marriages, but Andromeda married a Muggle-born, Ted Tonks, so -" Sirius mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and laughed sourly. Johnny was staring at a line of gold embroidery linked Narcissa Black with Lucius Malfoy and a single vertical gold line from their names led to the name Draco.

"You're related to the Malfoys!" Harry said in shock

"The pure-blood families are all interrelated," said Sirius. "If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods your choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left. Molly and I are cousins by marriage and Arthur's something like my second cousin once removed. You, Johnny and I are related somewhere along the line. But there's no point looking for Potter's on here - the Potter's became Blood-Traitors long before this tapestry was made."

"Lestrange..." Johnny said aloud. The name had stirred something in his memory; he knew it from somewhere, but for a moment he couldn't think where, though it gave him an odd, creeping sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"Death Eaters," Harry reminded him.

"They're in Azkaban," said Sirius shortly. "Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus came in with Barty Crouch Jr," said Sirius, in the same brusque voice. "Rodolphus's brother Rabastan was with them, too."

"You never said she was your -" Harry was cut off.

"Does it matter if she's my cousin?" snapped Sirius. "As far as I'm concerned, they're not my family. She's certainly not my family. I haven't seen her since I was your age, unless you count a glimpse of her coming into Azkaban. D'you think I'm proud of having a relative like her?"

"Sorry," said Harry quickly, "I didn't mean - I was just surprised, that's all -"

"It doesn't matter, don't apologise," Sirius mumbled. He turned away from the tapestry, his hands deep in his pockets. "I don't like being back here," he said, staring across the drawing room. "I never thought I'd be stuck in this house again."

"Why're you stuck here for?" Johnny asked curiously. Two weeks ago Sirius was aloud to go wherever he liked, now suddenly Sirius and Remus were under strict lockdown and Dani had gone back to France to stay with a friend before school started.

"Because of them," Sirius jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the tapestry. "Grimmauld Place ideal for Headquarters, of course, my father put every security measure known to wizard kind on it when he lived here. It's unplottable, so Muggles could never come and call - as if they'd ever have wanted to - and now Dumbledore's added his protection, you'd be hard put to find a safer house anywhere. Dumbledore is Secret Keeper for the Order, you know - nobody can find Headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is - that note Moody showed you last night, that was from Dumbledore.."

Sirius gave a short, bark-like laugh.

"If my parents could see the use their house was being put to now... well, my mothers portrait should give you some idea," he scowled for a moment, then sighed.

"I wouldn't mind if I could just get out occasionally and do something useful. I've asked Dumbledore whether I can escort you to your hearing - as Snuffles, obviously - so I can give you a bit of moral support, what d'you think?"

"Don't worry," Sirius said after a moment of silence. "I'm sure they'll clear you, there's definitely something in the International Statute of Secrecy about being allowed to use magic to save your own life."

"But if they do expel me," said Harry quietly, "can I come back here and live with you?"

"Wow, what am I?" Johnny asked sarcastically. "The shit under your boot?"

Sirius smiled sadly.

"You're both like your fathers, before Jakob turned of course."

Johnny gave a fake smile and patted Sirius's shoulder uncomfortably.

Mrs. Weasley kept them all working very hard over the next few days. The drawing room took three days to decontaminate. Finally, the only undesirable things left in it were the tapestry of the Black family tree, which resisted all their attempts to remove it from the wall, and the rattling writing desk. Moody hadn't dropped by Headquarters yet, so they couldn't be sure what was inside it.

They moved from the drawing room to a dining room on the ground floor where they found spiders as large as saucers lurking in the dresser (Ron and Johnny left the room hurriedly to make tea and they both didn't return for an hour and a half). The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed.

Johnny felt like his heart dropped to his stomach when Mrs. Weasley mentioned Harry's hearing that night at dinner. Despite the fact family was aloud to attend for moral support, they strictly ordered Johnny not to go as most inside the Ministry didn't like Grindelwald's or Half-Breeds, and Johnny being both could br troublesome for Harry,

"I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight, too. A good first impression can work wonders."

"How am I getting there?" Harry asked Mrs. Weasley, trying to sound unconcerned.

"Arthurs taking you to work with him," said Mrs. Weasley gently. Mr. Weasley smiled encouragingly at Harry across the table.

"You can wait in my office until it's time for the hearing," he said.

Harry looked over at Sirius and Johnny, but before he could ask the question, Mrs. Weasley had answered it.

"Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius and Johnny to go with you, and I must say I - "

"-think he's quite right," said Sirius through clenched teeth, finishing Mrs. Weasley's. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips.

"When did Dumbledore say that?" Harry asked, staring at Johnny, who stabbed moodily at a potato with his fork.

"Last night," Johnny muttered bitterly, shoving the potato in his mouth. "Bloody old twat."