Chapter Text
Ginny sat at the bottom of the stairs, gently flicking dungbombs at the door to the kitchen, where the Order of the Phoenix was just beginning their meeting. Once certain no charms were in place that would prevent the use of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears, she pulled a book into her lap, connected one end of the string to her ear, and released the other end to slide through the carpeting towards the kitchen door, where, she hoped, it would look like a loose thread. Her unfocused eyes followed the lines in her book, occasionally mechanically turning a page, while she listened intently to the Order meeting.
“Who’s on Harry duty this week, Kingsley?” That was her father speaking, doubtless close to the door to be so much clearer than the other pre-meeting whispers in the room.
“I think Emmaline has a turn tomorrow, as well as Dedalus Diggle. Not sure who has it the next day, though.”
“Alright, ladies and gentlewizards, if I may have your attention please. I know everyone is very busy, and these things tend to drone on, so I’ll make my opening statements quick,” said the friendly, yet authoritative voice of Dumbledore.
The kitchen quickly descended into silence. His idea of opening statements reminded Ginny of nothing so much as his speech at the beginning of every Hogwarts term; short, to the point, and very aware of how tired his audience was. The meeting began with an expression of Dumbledore’s pride in the work they had done in his absence, and a few key points he told them he planned to discuss in-depth later. Continuing on to the meat of the meeting, he quickly got down to business.
“I regret not having personally been to the last few Order meetings, but dealing with the Ministry, among other things, has occupied rather a lot of my time as of late. As many of you doubtless know, my address to the International Confederation of Wizards on the subject of Voldemort’s return was met with a slightly unexpected amount of backlash, and I have been… rather forcefully retired from the post of Supreme Mugwump. It is relevant to note that the vote against me was heavily carried by Ministry of Magic employees, indicating a disturbing belief in the official policy of Minister Fudge on the subject of Voldemort.”
Here Dumbledore gave a barely audible sigh, probably at the flinch that traveled the room at the use of You-Know-Who’s name, and muttered whispers between the previously unaware members started up again in the background, including a few muttered agreements from various ministry employees.
“I agree, my friends, it was a harsh blow, but I shan’t complain unless they get rid of my Chocolate Frog cards. I have, however, recently heard from Hagrid, who tells me that despite a cold welcome, he feels he is making progress with the giants. Whether this progress is in convincing them of Voldemort’s return, convincing them not to follow him, or simply in earning a place among them, he neglected to say.”
“Typical,” a voice Ginny recognized as Professor McGonagall harrumphed, as Ginny’s mind started spinning with this new piece of information.
So Hagrid had been sent to the giants to turn them against You-Know-Who. Well, that explained why she had yet to see the friendly Care of Magical Creatures teacher arrive for any of the Order meetings, or indeed at all. But was he safe with them? As a half-giant he’d be smaller than all of them, and Hagrid aside, giants weren’t known for being friendly. Even without the threat of full-blooded giants, there was still the fact that his presence at a giant colony was based on it being under threat from You-Know-Who, and if he sent either a delegate or an attacking force, Hagrid would be in big trouble.
“Still,” Mcgonagall continued, “doubtless progress on any of those subjects is far better than no progress at all. What are we to do if he isn’t back in time for the start of term, Albus? Professor Grubbly-Plank again?”
“Yes, that was my plan. Some of the students will talk, but I have made the arrangements for her return, and other than Harry, Ms. Granger, and the younger Weasley children, I doubt many will care enough to make a fuss about where he is or what he’s doing.”
From there the Order meeting switched to reports from various members, including one from Kingsley on the ongoing hunt for Sirius, one from her father on unrest at the Ministry, supported by Tonks, one from Moody on various precautions he felt they should take (including a fifteen minute lecture on how owls were no longer a safe method of communication that rather helped Ginny’s perspective on not telling Harry a thing while he was with his Muggle family), and, most interestingly of all, a short report from Snape on the current goings-on of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his circle of Death Eaters.
“He is still focused on obtaining the object, through any means he can find. Recently, he has begun discussions of ways to force someone else to bring the object out of its safeguards. I believe he will first attempt to use one of his Death Eaters, or else use the Imperius Curse. As, so far as we know, Potter is the only other person capable of doing this, I recommend he be monitored even more heavily in the future. Look for signs not only of danger to him, but danger from him. Any information he gets from that scar of his is suspect. We do not yet know if You-Know-Who has realized the possibilities of manipulation available through the mark, or even how much Potter receives, but in this case we cannot be too careful.”
Through the dim haze of her shock, Ginny noted that Snape continued to bitterly spit out Potter as if the word was an unpleasant bug found in his food, one whose existence had personally offended him. While fully aware that Harry received warnings through his scar of You-Know-Who’s growing power, she had not considered how dangerous it would be if You-Know-Who controlled the effect he had on Harry. Moreover, she was puzzled by thoughts of what “the object” could be, why You-Know-Who wanted it, and why only Harry could apparently get it for him.
The rest of the meeting droned on, just reports of things she and the others had already overheard, and as it came to a close Ginny slipped away up the stairs, taking all evidence of her eavesdropping with her. Ron would be so jealous he had missed this to deal with ankle-biting slippers.
A week later, Ginny had still not found the time to tell Ron, Hermione, and the twins what had happened at the last Order meeting. They had been kept carefully separate in their cleaning, working only in ones, twos, and threes, never all five together. When the cleaning was done at the end of the day, the teenagers were too tired even to consider the information they gleaned from the adults, let alone pass it on. They had time only for a few heated discussions of Dumbledore’s message to them, a repeated order to not tell Harry anything.
By the time Ginny got a moment of peace to think about what she had heard, another meeting had been held, with no Dumbledore and no real information, and all attention was on that, rather than the meeting she had never told them the contents of.
“Wotcher, Ginny!” Tonks said, poking her head up into the attic. Said head was currently covered in a lot of very curly brown hair, rather like Hermione’s, and her eyes were a pretty brown to match it.
“Hello, Tonks,” Ginny grunted, struggling to move a small table that appeared to have been used for beheading the house elves that hung on the walls of 12 Grimmauld Place. Fred and George were supposed to be helping her, but without Mrs. Weasley to enforce this, they had quickly returned to their room to work on something they had recently acquired from Mundungus Fletcher.
Tonks quickly came up the stairs to help her, grabbing an end and moving in the same general direction Ginny was heading.
“Merlin, this thing is disgusting, it’s sticky. Oh, back away, let me use my wand. Where to?”
“It’s supposed to go to the incineration piles in the drawing room,” Ginny said, now following a grimacing Tonks and a floating table down the stairs, glad she didn’t have to figure out how to get it down several flights of stairs by herself. “What’re you doing here, I thought there wasn’t another Order meeting till next week?”
“I’m not here for a full Order meeting, no. Snape and I have to make private reports to Dumbledore tomorrow night, and since I’m off work on Saturdays I thought I’d come help out, maybe cheer up my favorite cousin,” Tonks replied cheerfully, now carefully guiding the floating table into the disgusting drawing room. Once that was done she aimed a cleaning spell at her contaminated hands, and wilted when the sticky substance covering them merely started dripping, as if watered down. “Oh, bother. We’ll have to clean this off the hard way, Molly’s busy and I wouldn’t trust those brothers of yours not to think that making this even harder to get off would be funny.”
Luckily the first floor bathroom had two sinks and Mrs. Weasley’s favorite brand of magical soap, so Ginny and Tonks scrubbed side by side for several minutes, waging war on the substance Ginny was valiantly trying to forget was probably house elf blood.
“So why do you and Snape need to make a special report?” Ginny asked, tongue sticking out from between her teeth as she glared at her still-disgusting palms and dumped another dollop of soap on.
“Well,” Tonks said, distracted by figuring out why her fingernails were now turning a nasty shade of purple. “It’s two different reports on what I assume are unrelated topics, and Dumbledore was in town to lobby with the Ministry already, which is good ‘cause I can’t go to Hogwarts without good reason, the Ministry are monitoring it carefully right now. I’m not working with Snape, and I’m glad, he’s more of a downer than Mad-Eye if you can believe that.”
Ginny, who could easily believe it, having had a great many miserable Potions classes with Snape over the past three years, merely nodded.
“Anyway, he has an urgent report on the Death Eaters, and I have some interesting details on Fudge’s recent address to the Auror department. Nothing really important on my end, nothing that would require a special meeting, but if Dumbledore’s already here it’s better he hears it sooner than later. Personally, I’m just hoping Dumbledore lets me stay to hear Snape’s report. A lot of his work for the Order is so hush-hush none of the rest of us get to hear it. Mad-Eye says it’s how the Order was run the first time, no one knowing what anyone else was doing unless they were involved, and sometimes not even then. He calls it a sensible safety precaution, and the old geezer is probably right, but I'm still curious.”
“So he spies for the Order, but none of you even get to hear his reports?” Ginny carefully attempted to keep her thoughts on the subject of curiosity despite security precautions off her face.
“Oh yeah, half the time we have no idea how he got his information or from who, but it’s always good intel, no sign Voldy-shorts is feeding him false leads,” Tonks replied, showing no sign she had noticed Ginny’s frustration. “We have to be careful what we act on though, or else You-Know-Who will realize we have a spy in his inner circle. I really shouldn’t tell you anymore though Gin, or Dumbledore and, more importantly, your mother, will kill me.”
Ginny sighed in frustration, having hoped to get more details on Tonks’ report on Fudge from her after finishing the Snape discussion. “I understand. We should probably go interrupt Mum now anyways, I’ve got most of it off me but your fingernails look like they’re about to fall off.”
In her dreams Ginny is eleven years old. In her dreams Ginny is always eleven years old.
She stands in front of a stone wall, one hand carrying a bucket of unnaturally red blood, the opposite hand dipping two fingers into it. Her face is stone cold while her fingers move over the wall, reaching up on her tiptoes so it looks like someone taller wrote the words.
Tears drip silently down her face, but she never hesitates. Eventually she steps back, bloody fingers gripping her wand as she casts an unfamiliar spell to stick the warning to the walls.
“THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR… BEWARE.”
Slowly, unwillingly, tears still falling from her blank eyes, Ginny feels her lips curl up in a harsh smile. She drops the bucket to the cold stone floor with a splash, its contents mixing with the water on the ground. She feels the warm blood splash her robes, cool water now up to her ankles. And as soft footsteps draw near, she closes her eyes and opens her mouth to hiss, and hears the whisper of scales on stone and a sharp meow of surprise.
“Ginny? Ginny, wake up!” Ginny thrashed, tangled in her sheets, while a cold hand shook her by the shoulder.
“Wh-what? ‘Mione?” Ginny gasped around the salty tears on her lips. Her friend was standing over her bed, still resting a comforting hand on Ginny’s bony shoulder, concern bright in her large dark eyes. Slowly Ginny sat up, pulling away from Hermione’s hand, untangling the sheets that had wrapped around her legs in the night.
Hermione walked away from Ginny, turning on the lights and returning to sit on the foot of her bed, examining the redhead more closely in the light as she wiped away tears. “I’m here, y’know. If you ever want to talk about all these nightmares you keep having.”
“I...I know, Hermione, and I appreciate the offer, I do, but it’s old news. It’s easier if I just focus on the current problem when I’m awake, not dwell on something that happened years ago. I’m sorry if I disturbed you, now or… or before.”
“Ginny, the only reason I’m disturbed is because I’m concerned for you. Gin, you were...you were hissing in your sleep. Crying, thrashing, and hissing. I’m worried, and maybe actually talking about your problems will help,” Hermione pleaded, wrapping her hands in Ginny’s comforter as she clenched her fists.
“Thanks, but I don’t feel like talking. Let’s just get to sleep, Dumbledore’s coming tomorrow and I thought you wanted to try and talk to him about Harry again,” Ginny dismissed, pulling her top sheet up and turning on her side, back to her friend. Hermione sighed, and after a moment stood up to flick off the lights and go back to her bed.
“Goodnight, Gin.”
Ignoring her in a pretense of sleep, lying motionless under the covers, Ginny turned her thoughts to Dumbledore’s upcoming visit. And, from that, to the possible contents of Snape’s urgent report. Puzzled, and rubbing her fingers together in search of the blood she could still feel on them, Ginny lay in bed for several more hours, waiting for dawn creep through the small, ornate window. By the time six am pulled around, and Ginny was standing up quietly to dress and go downstairs, she had come to three conclusions.
Whatever Snape was doing, surely he would be less effective once he returned to Hogwarts, and his primary sources of information became pureblood teenagers who rarely confided in teachers if they could help it.
She would not stand by and let Tom Riddle and his minions hurt anyone.
And she never wanted anybody to enter her head without permission again.
Perhaps, she thought, the solution to these problems is the same.
After a day of puttering around the dank house, tackling the tasks her mother assigned, Ginny was more than ready to sit down when Snape, Tonks, and Dumbledore arrived for their meeting. Unfortunately, as her mother wasn’t part of the meeting, and the kitchen was needed for it, Mrs. Weasley was still going full bore, chivvying the various teenagers along out of the way of the adults downstairs. Thankfully, Ginny had planned for this while lying awake that morning, and before too long had managed to innocently direct her mother to a hallway she knew currently contained one of Fred and George’s latest illegal acquisitions.
Listening carefully for the distant sound of yelling to start, Ginny collapsed on the bottom of the stairs with a sigh, grateful her father was on guard duty for “the object” and needn’t be distracted.
For a brief moment her head dropped into her hands, her back slumped, and she rubbed at the purple bags under her tired eyes. Just as suddenly as she had slumped, she took a deep breath and sat up straight, arranging the Extendable Ear under the rug until she thought it looked suitably nondescript. She was just in time, for she found that Tonks had already finished her report during the execution of Ginny’s distraction plot; it appeared she had not been allowed to stay, for Snape was talking candidly, which he would never have done in the young Auror’s presence.
“Dumbledore, if the Minister is about to begin interfering at Hogwarts we must-!”
“I understand your concerns, Severus, but we cannot act on this information without compromising your cover. If Lucius Malfoy said this to you in confidence, he will doubtless realize who alerted us to the issue,” came the quiet voice of Professor Dumbledore, cutting off Snape’s argument. “Besides, if they do intend to interfere, we shall find out soon enough. There is nothing we can do now but continue to prepare for the worst, and attempt to find yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”
“You know my opinion on this matter. It is the post I originally applied for, and one I would still prefer,” Snape said, his voice like oil; smooth and slimy.
“I am aware of your opinion, yes, but not only would that leave me in search of a Potions Master, I also have no desire to find out what kind of foul fate the post would bring you. No, not this year, Severus. Not this year.”
“If that is all,” Snape muttered bitterly, “then we should be on our ways.”
His almost stomping footsteps drew closer. Started into movement, Ginny leapt before she looked, and, dropping her unread book, she pulled the door open and stopped a mere inch from the glaring Professor Snape.
She stumbled back a few feet, drew herself up to her (still rather short) full height, and looked around him to where Dumbledore stood, surprise in his twinkling blue eyes.
“Hello, Professor. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m afraid this is rather important,” she said, quietly but clearly, still avoiding the sinister look on Snape’s face.
“Of course, Ms. Weasley. If you could excuse us, Professor Snape?” Dumbledore said, focusing more intently on Ginny.
“Actually, Professor...it’s probably best if he stays. Assuming you hear me out fairly, you’ll doubtless want his input.” By now Ginny’s stomach was turning--Snape’s impressive glare still on the top of her head, one dark eyebrow now raised--fully considering her actions once more. Mutely, he opened the door further and turned back into the kitchen, crossing his arms as he sat down in one of the harsh wooden chairs next to Dumbledore, looking unspeakably out of place.
Before she could mentally talk herself out of it, Ginny slipped through the door after Snape, surprised he hadn’t made a comment about her wasting his time. She had no idea that, in the dim light of Grimmauld Place, stubborn chin tilted up, red hair shining around her pale face, she looked rather like a young Lily Evans.
Ginny drew in another deep breath, taking a seat opposite Dumbledore. Her clasped hands on the table in front of her, stubbornly ordering them not to shake, she did her best to look Dumbledore in the eye.
“I want to be a spy for the Order,” Ginny said strongly, before she lost her courage.
This did not appear to be what either of them had expected her to say.
“Preposterous, Weasley, simply preposterous!” Snape spat, drawing himself up to tower over her from across the table, dark eyes furious in his wan, greasy face. Ginny, however, kept her face carefully blank, eyes focused on Dumbledore.
“Ms. Weasley, you are aware that you are neither of age nor a member of the Order of the Phoenix? As such, you are ineligible for such a position,” he said calmly, surprise quickly controlled.
“Yes, Professor. I’m also aware that that’s a load of rubbish,” she replied, still ignoring the now spluttering Snape.
“How so, Ms. Weasley?” Dumbledore appeared now to be torn between grave seriousness and unexpected amusement.
“I can help the Order in ways the adults can’t. And it seems to me that, from what I’ve been overhearing, you can’t really afford to turn down my offer, sir. Either you think my age makes me unreliable, or it makes it unacceptable to put me in the line of danger, and both of those are stupid reasons, Professor, because I am reliable, and I am already in danger. I am already going to die. And don’t tell me I’m not going to die. We both know that age doesn’t stop Voldemort, and before this war is over too many people will be dead. This war might last another fourteen years, or it might last one, and that depends not on what the Ministry is doing, but on what we are,” she said, swallowing against her dry throat.
She quickly continued before they could get a word in, torn between trying to appear confident and calm, and not letting them cut her off before she finished her argument.
“My age is relevant, not as a detractor of usefulness, but a benefit. I can go places Professor Snape can’t, talk to people who won’t talk to him, or who would give him different answers. It won’t be hard for me to talk to either the blood purists or the Order sympathizers at Hogwarts. If this war does drag on, it’ll be important to know what the coming generation of talent is going to do, who they’re going to side with. If it doesn’t, then I can assure you that Sirius isn’t the only adult who wants to tell teenagers what kind of danger they’re in; and the twins aren’t the only students skilled in spying on their parents. The students know more about their families than you think, and they won’t be turning that information over to teachers, I know that for certain,” Ginny said, brown eyes fierce, lit up with a determination reminiscent of her mother. Her clasped hands had tightened their grip, leaving white and red splotches on her skin from the pressure.
“Ms. Weasley, while you do have a point, I am afraid that inducting you into the Order while you remain at school is strictly against our policies. Hogwarts is the safest place for young witches and wizards, and no harm will come to you there while I can prevent it,” Dumbledore replied, still considering her words.
“Professor, I didn’t believe that even before I overheard you talking about how Malfoy and the Ministry are preparing to somehow interfere there. Hogwarts hasn’t kept us safe.”
Here Snape looked like he wanted to interrupt, but Ginny leaned forward intently and continued.
“It didn't keep me safe from Malfoy and Riddle. It didn’t keep the students safe from me. It didn’t keep the Dementors from harming students; it didn’t keep Sirius out when you still thought he was a murderer. Nor did it keep a Death Eater out; nor did it prevent the heavily guarded and regulated Triwizard tournament from being severely tampered with. Every year, since before I arrived at the school, students have nearly died… students have died, largely in plots from Voldemort. Small, scattered pieces of Voldemort. And now he’s back. Stronger than ever. And I know what he can do, Professor, I know. I know what he planned back then, I know what he did. I know what he asked Professor Slughorn about, I know what he used Myrtle’s death for. I know what that diary was, and how easily Malfoy got it into the school. So don’t you dare tell me Hogwarts is safe.”
Dumbledore sat up, eyes sharpening dramatically, while a now silent Snape glanced between them, outraged but more considering, more confused. Clearly, he hadn’t been filled in on the subject of the horcruxes, but Ginny was confident that Professor Dumbledore had worked out the truth the second he saw Riddle’s destroyed diary. Finally, he would take her seriously.
“While I see your point, Ms. Weasley, there are still laws-”
“How many laws are we breaking just sitting in this house, Professor? How many laws will we break while the Ministry keeps throwing walls up to prevent us making any progress?”
“Ms. Weasley, as a child your parents are the final authority on your involvement, and they have made it very clear that they do not want you, nor any of your underage siblings, to be involved in the slightest. I cannot ignore their wishes and put you in harm’s way without their knowledge and consent. Which, as I’m sure you can agree, we would be highly unlikely to get.”
“I…” Ginny, for a brief moment, was struck by an image of her mother’s face if she knew what her daughter was currently doing. It did not, however, stop her for long. “I’m not a child. Not anymore. I love my mother, but she doesn’t realize that there are some things she can’t protect us from. I agree with her, we shouldn’t have to worry about these things; we shouldn’t have to lie, and spy, and hide, and fear for our lives, and fight for our lives. We shouldn’t have to, but we do.”
She unclasped her aching hands and instead placed them in the pockets of her jacket, leaning back in her chair for the first time. Her face was still, jaw set.
Snape, apparently regaining the ability to speak through his shock, was quick to renew his complaints.
“Even if you were of age, you are hopelessly untrained. You have the typical Gryffindor subtlety--approximately the same amount as an ox. Your mind is doubtless open to any intrusion, and any sensitive information you were to receive would be easily obtained by the enemy. I sincerely dread your idea of leading questions. You would have no idea what to look for or how to find it. You are, in short, useless,” Snape sneered.
Ginny bristled, preparing her response, but Dumbledore beat her to it.
“Professor Snape,” Dumbledore said quietly, “I would remind you that even outside of school grounds, negative comments about another Hogwarts House are uncalled for and inappropriate. Ms. Weasley’s mind, I think you will also find, is both more closed off and more cunning than you might anticipate. If I am not mistaken, she has, in the past two years, checked out every book on mental intrusion and exclusion available in the Hogwarts library, including those in the restricted section.”
Of course he would keep track of that, Ginny thought. She was unsure if ‘closed off and cunning’ was supposed to be a compliment or not. “I also checked out every book that mentioned possession, cursed objects, souls, and immortality. I noticed that several books Tom referenced had been removed; I’m glad.”
“Books, while a... decent start, cannot teach the true practice of Occlumency and Legilimency,” Snape said, resentful of being corrected. “And the girl still knows nothing of being a spy, Dumbledore. You cannot seriously be considering this?”
“You cannot deny, Severus, that she is right; the students are a valuable source of information, one that is in most cases beyond your reach. And while her spying experience is not extensive, it appears to be quite successful. Or did you miss how she is aware of far more than I assume Molly Weasley would ever tell her children?”
“She is also right here,” Ginny snapped, sitting up once more, shoulders tight as their decision was made.
“I still would not recommend this,” Snape insisted.
“While your opinion is appreciated, I believe Ms. Weasley would be an asset to our information gathering process. If you are, however, so concerned with her mental defences, I shall let you be in charge of testing them, and bringing them up to what you deem an acceptable standard. Preferably before the beginning of the term, busy though I know you are, Severus. You are also in charge of teaching her everything you believe she will need to know to be an effective spy once at Hogwarts--without informing any of the other members of the Order of the Phoenix.”
Snape gaped unattractively with shock, though he quickly transformed it into a glare and turned it on Ginny. Not even the prospect of secret lessons with Snape could dim Ginny’s mood at the moment. Fighting to keep her pride and excitement off her face, her jaw and eyes nonetheless softened, and her back muscles loosened. But her ordeal was not over yet.
“I don’t suppose you have a plan to begin obtaining this information?” Dumbledore asked, redirecting their attention.
“I know Malfoy loves to run his mouth about all the things his father gets up to, but starting there is too obvious. He wouldn’t believe me, and my brothers would kill me. I thought the Ravenclaws would be a good place to start.”
“And how will you gain their trust?” Snape snorted, arms crossing even more firmly.
“Isobel MacDougal. Ravenclaw, my year. Her mother is head of the Obliviators. Spends a lot of time running around after Muggles, cleaning up careless wizards’ messes. She and Isobel don’t get along very well, mostly because Isobel thinks that taking care of Muggles is a waste of time. She doesn’t hate them, but… she definitely thinks they’re beneath her. Fairly moderate, but she hangs out with a lot of the more extreme Slytherins and Ravenclaws. I sit next to her in Ancient Runes, and not only is she apparently a good tutor, she’s a terrible gossip.”
“Yes, I am familiar with Mrs. MacDougal’s work in the Ministry. It is disturbing to discover that a witch with such a progressive stance on Muggle relations has raised such a close-minded daughter,” Dumbledore said, a frown pulling the corners or his large white beard down even farther. “This seems like a fine place to start. Very well, Ms. Weasley. Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix. You will not be allowed to enter or participate in meetings; but you will be, within reason, informed of what goes on in them. You will attend Occlumency and information gathering lessons with Professor Snape once a week. While you stay with the Order, I will ask Sirius if we can have use of Regulus’ old bedroom for them. It is, to my knowledge, the only room that is both hospitable and unused.”
“Yes, Professor Dumbledore.”
“You must tell no one, not even your siblings and friends, what you are doing. If any among the Order are told of your position, you will be informed. You are not to inform any of them on your own unless it is a true emergency, in which case you will tell them ‘from the ashes we renew’ and they will render you any possible assistance. Once at Hogwarts, you will continue meeting Professor Snape weekly, whether Occlumency lessons are still required or not, and begin each with a report on what you have learned in your spying. Those will be passed on to me. He will then inform you of the contents of the latest Order meeting. Please take care not to write anything down, Ms. Weasley. There is no telling what hands it could fall into.”
“Oh, don’t worry Professor. I got over my diary stage rather quickly,” Ginny said wryly.
“Yes, I suppose that would be enough to turn anyone off them,” Dumbledore agreed, beard twitching in amusement. “Now, I really must be on my way. I will ask Sirius about his brother’s bedroom on my way out, Severus, so there should be no need for the two of you to talk. I leave you with Professor Snape to sort out the details of your Occlumency lessons, Ginevra. Farewell.”
Dumbledore stood quickly, and with nary a backward glance, swept out of the room in a swirl of magnificent purple robes; the effect was rather ruined when he had to stoop to avoid losing his hat to the doorway, however.
Snape sighed harshly, turning in his chair to watch the Headmaster leave. A deeper than usual frown tugged at his thin lips when he turned back to face Ginny.
“You will report to me in Regulus Black’s old bedroom at exactly five AM in two days time. The lesson should be concluded before the other occupants of the house awaken, but if they question your absence you will tell them that I have found some objects of use in there and Dumbledore has asked you to assist me in sorting the useful from the useless. I am unlikely to be available consistently, and as such our lessons will be scheduled no more than two days in advance. I expect you to arrive promptly, and be prepared to work. Dumbledore’s orders or no, I do not have time to spare, and if you do not take this seriously I will no longer waste it on you. Do you understand me, Weasley? This is not a joking matter.”
“I understand, sir. I’m not joking in the slightest. Thursday, five AM. I won’t be late,” Ginny said. She didn’t like Snape any more than he liked her, but he was her ticket to getting what she wanted, and so she was willing to be as polite and mature as it took to get him to cooperate.
“See that you are not,” Snape sneered, knocking his chair back as he left.
Not a minute after he left, half the Weasley clan clammered into the kitchen, Ron whining about the twins having turned his hair a rather unflattering shade of mustard yellow. Mrs. Weasley, flustered, stressed, and caught between yelling at the twins and trying to turn Ron’s hair back to its normal bright red, never noticed that Ginny was already in the room. And, distracted by her yelling, neither did anyone else.