"No Death Eaters captured!" Mad-Eye storms, banging the base of his cup on the table. "None of them! Two fifteen-year-olds Stunned a few of 'em, and that useless lot couldn't capture a one." Across from Mad-Eye at the table, Kingsley steeples his fingers, silent. Beside the both of them, Tonks sits with her head in her hands, shaking her head slowly. The three of them all look exhausted, and Harry watches them for a few seconds. Beside her, Andromeda pats her daughter's back, and Tonks just shakes her head, her hair lengthening and thickening into an ugly, mousy grey-brown.

"Were any killed?" Harry asks, and Mad-Eye seems surprised at the question, glancing at him.

"Aye, lad. A man named Scabior, nasty little so-and-so, and, er, Valiant Crabbe. Scabior was an Azkaban escapee, but Crabbe was free. Got caught by friendly fire from one of his friends." Mad-Eye lets out an ugly little laugh, and Harry nods his head.

"Well, that's the bright side, at least."

"Harry!" says Mrs Weasley from the side of the room, looking shocked, and Harry glances at the other members of the Order. People are shooting him odd or offended looks, and Harry feels himself scoff.

"Well, sorry, Mrs Weasley, but they're Death Eaters. I'm not going to feel bad that they're dead."

"They're still people, Harry," Arthur murmurs, a frown on his face, and Harry shakes his head. He doesn't back down.

"They would have let Ginny drown in front of them, and laugh as she fell," Harry retorts. "If they're people, Mr Weasley, it's only barely." There's a silence that rings through the room for a moment, and then Mad-Eye grins at him.

"The lad's got the right idea," he says brightly: his bad mood seems to have been cleared right up by Harry's unpopular opinion, and Harry gives the old man a funny look.

"Unpolished though his opinion might be," Lucius says cleanly, "He's correct. I was duelling to kill with the Death Eaters that came for my son - it makes no sense to do otherwise. Any one of them would kill you all if they believed it would please to the Dark Lord."

"Including you, Malfoy?"

"No, Mr Moody," Lucius retorts. "I shall have to return to my previous hobbies of deflowering young ladies and murdering cats." He draws out the sibilance of the 's', glaring at Moody, and Harry hears Snape let out a sound that's almost laughter. Moody rips his head around to glare at him, too, but before he can continue Lindon Sartorius clears his throat in a dramatic fashion.

"If anyone's interested," he says silkily, "Cecilia and I were also nearly murdered last night."

"No one's interested," Lucius says, and then he hisses. Harry had felt Narcissa's foot move sharply under the table, and he tries to hide his laugh in his sleeve. Lindon tosses his hair slightly, ignoring Lucius, and he waits until everyone is looking at him and Celia before he continues.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, Chad Arnett and Bonnie Darling accosted us in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Lockhart, I can sadly report, is lacking in his previous good looks. He's all sallow, and his hair is a mess. Chad, however-" There's laughter around the room, and Harry smiles too - he likes Lindon's sarcastic sense of humour, and he likes the way the man isn't afraid to flourish his sexuality, even if it makes Lucius fume in his seat.

"Lockhart's obviously been training," Celia interrupts, putting her hand over Lindon's and forcing him quiet. "He doesn't meet Arnett or Darling for skill nor flourish, but he did some damage. While they're not going to offer the same threat as the Death Eaters, or You-Know-You if the Lestranges find him, I don't think we can just brush them off. Lockhart was saying something about a list."

"A list?" Sturgis Podmore asks, leaning forwards. "List of what?"

"Names, we think," Lindon says, becoming a little more serious again. "He mentioned us, Mr Snape, a few Hogwarts teachers... As well as young Harry, of course." Harry sighs.

"Did he mention Hermione, or just me?"

"Just you," Celia answers. "But I'm sure he'll try and murder you too, dear, if he gets the chance."

"Thanks," Hermione replies dryly. "That does make me feel better. What are people doing about him? Anything?"

"We think he'll be drawn to Hogwarts this year," Bill says. Beside him, Percy gives a serious nod of his head, and Harry frowns at them, narrowing his eyes slightly. "For those of you who don't already know, they're going to be hosting the Triwizard Cup this year." There are a few gasps and hums around the room, and Harry and Hermione share an urgent look. "Given what a big event it's going to be, with the public allowed in during the events, both the Death Eaters and Lockhart's lot are probably going to try and use it as some kind of platform."

"Given that, um," Percy's voice shakes a little as he speaks, but he raises his chin, and says a little more firmly, "Given that the Tournament is already underway, it's far too late for us to draw back. Nonetheless, with foreign students at Hogwarts and the gates open to spectators, we'll have to be careful with security. For each event, I would suggest we have several Order members amongst the crowds, that we might act fast in the event of any crises."

"An excellent suggestion, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore says, nodding his head.

"With myself, Albus, Severus and Cecilia on the staff," McGonagall says from beside him, her arms crossed over her chest, "we ought be able to handle what goes on within the castle."

"Cecilia?" Harry repeats. "Why're you on the staff?"

"Oh," she says. "I'm your new Defence teacher." Harry turns his head, and he looks at Remus. The other man is quiet, looking down at his fingernails, but then he looks up.

"With the additional risk of foreign students in school, as well as various visitors, we thought it best I not retain my position for this year. Given my... Condition." It's obvious Remus is embarrassed, and he coughs quietly. Tonks is looking at him with a quiet, obvious sympathy on her face, and the silence in the room is... Awkward.

"Let us discuss added security to the Triwizard Tasks," Dumbledore says, and everyone tears their gaze from him. Everyone, it seems like, except Harry. Remus looks so sad once no one's looking at him, and it makes Harry feel a twinge of sympathy.

---

"You're coming to the funeral on Sunday then, lad?" Mad-Eye says, and Harry gives a nod of his head. He honestly can't decide whether the grizzled old man likes him or not - Moody tends to look at up with with suspicion, but he also laughs a lot at things Harry says. He doesn't yet know if that's something good or not.

"Yes, sir," Harry says. "I didn't know Mr Crouch all that well, but I'd written him, and he'd struck me as a pretty good man. Maybe a bit of a workaholic, but a moral one." Moody gives a nod of his head, but apparently that's the end of the conversation - he limps off to talk to McGonagall, and Harry lets out a quiet sigh of relief. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lindon's violet robes, and he turns his head to see him being pulled into the kitchen after Sirius.

Frowning, Harry walks across the room, carefully opening the door and slipping inside.

"Leave him alone!"

"Leave him alone? I hardly follow the young man about, Mr Black." Harry creeps behind one of the cabinets of crockery, and then he leans around it. Lindon is sat in one of the kitchen chairs, looking utterly unruffled, but Sirius seems furious. "He and I are rather good friends."

"If you so much as think of touching him-" Sirius hisses.

"Oh, don't insult me," Lindon says, shaking his head. "The boy's a child. What, do you think I'm tiptoeing through the tulips, corrupting any boy I make my way by?"

"I'm sure you'd love to," Sirius growls. Harry ducks back behind the cabinet as Sirius glances back, and he doesn't risk leaning around it again - he just listens, staying as still as he can. "He's my godson, Sartorius. If you do anything untoward, I'll use you to carpet the stairs."

"He's hardly mooning over me, Black," Lindon replies, apparently amused by the threats. Harry wonders if the man has any idea how to respond sensibly to threats. "Unlike that Weasley, of course."

"What?" Sirius demands.

"Young William. Your godson is at no risk from me, but he positively salivates whenever Bill-" There's the sick sound of flesh hitting flesh, and Harry hears Lindon let out a grunt of pain. "I do believe you're being the slightest bit oversensitive, Black."

"Leave him alone." The kitchen door is thrown open, and Harry hides behind it as Narcissa enters the room, beginning to boil hot water for coffee. "Alright, Cissy?"

"What on Earth are you two doing in here, skulking in the dark?"

"Nothing, nothing," Lindon says, and he slips from the room, followed by Sirius. Harry watches after them, frowning, and then comes out from behind the door, going back into the dining hall. He'd not actually considered telling Sirius about his interest in blokes, but nor had he told him about his interest in girls: he doesn't know what to think of what he's just overheard, though, and he elects to just push it aside. There's no sense in thinking about it when he can't do anything.

Lindon doesn't seem bothered at all, and he settles into his usual chatter with Cecilia, his hand on her shoulder. He glances to Sirius, who speaks irritably with Remus, and he furrows his brow slightly.

Yeah, he doesn't want to deal with this tonight.

---

"How was it?" Hermione asks when Harry comes in, and he shrugs his shoulders. It had been a pretty modest funeral, and it had been surreal and odd - most of the attendees had been people from the Ministry, workmates of the man's. He doesn't know what to say. It had been a nice service, he supposes, for a dead man. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Harry murmurs. "Yeah, I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Fred and George are trying to listen in on Snape and Malfoy. They're talking in the library downstairs." Harry laughs a little, shucking open the collar of his robes.

Harry chuckles, and then says, "I'm just gonna go find Sirius, alright? Do you know where he is?"

"I think he's in the kitchen," Hermione answers, and he nods his head, heading down the stairs. Percy had been utterly quiet at the funeral - he'd stood beside Kingsley Shacklebolt, looking utterly out of place, and Harry remembers wondering what he'd do for a job, now. He'll find something, of course, but for the time being? He'd just seemed stuck.

He glances at the Owl Gazette open on the kitchen counter, which lists sightings of Azkaban escapees across the UK, and he looks to Sirius. His godfather is whistling to himself as he works, spelling the dishes in the sink to wash themselves, and Harry closes the kitchen door, leaving them alone. Sirius glances at him.

"What's up, Harry?"

"I wanted to ask you something," Harry says quietly. "I was thinking about it, at Mr Crouch's funeral... I know I'm young, but I think this is something I should start doing." Sirius frowns at him, concern obvious on his features, and he focuses on Harry's face.

"What, what is it?" Harry breathes in, preparing himself, and then he meets his godfather's gaze.

"I want to become an Animagus. I want you to teach me." He steels himself, wondering if Sirius is going to immediately refuse him, but the relief on Sirius' face is swiftly replaced with everything but a refusal.

He's never seen his godfather smile so wide.