Brain and Nerve and Bounding Heart

5- Driving Lessons

Early July, 1980

Áine pulled at the neck of her t-shirt restlessly, waiting for the Order meeting to end but also hanging on to every word. This meeting had been very selective, taking place in the Weasley's kitchen. Dumbledore had called them there with the worst news she could think of, and they had just finished setting plans in place that filled each and every heart at that table with a fierce sense of foreboding.
"Does everyone at this table understand and accept the tasks to which you have been assigned?" The old wizard asked.
The rest of them nodded their agreement, though not one of them were particularly soothed with the plan they had formulated. Life was much too dangerous now to find comfort. This new plan amended a very small handful of their issues, and increased danger for those of the group who would have sidestepped it otherwise.
"In that case, I see our meeting adjourned."
With Dumbledore's final sentiment they all rose from the long table. Most of them took their leave almost immediately, assuming the posts they had been assigned. Áine hung back a moment at Dumbledore's request.
"I am aware of your position at the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable. A very esteemed career indeed. I must say that I'm proud of you. You have grown so much since the day we met." He began, peering at her over his half-moon spectacles with a small smile.
"Thank you, Professor." Áine said politely.
"Your time at Hogwarts has come to an end, you no longer need to call me Professor." He pointed out, the smile beneath his white mustache widening.
"Sorry. Habit I suppose." She shrugged, laughing nervously.
"Anyhow, back to the point. I must ask for your trust, Ms. Quinn."
"I do trust you, sir. I have had no reason not to." She agreed, sitting up a little.
"I know that Unspeakables like yourself are bound by secrecy, understandably so. Your department studies some of the most ancient forms of magic that will likely never be fully understood. I must ask a question that you are legally not allowed to answer, yet it is of the utmost importance that you answer it in the fullest extent that you are capable."
"I-I... I don't know. I've only been official for a few months. I've barely scratched the surface of my studies."
"That's not important. I have to know if you are familiar with the Hall of Prophecy."
Although she had a feeling this question was coming after the meeting, it made her nervous. Áine had never discussed such things outside of work. Her very job title was to not speak on such matters, yet here was Albus Dumbledore asking her to do so. She trusted him, however, and knew he wouldn't be asking unless it was important. In times like these, rules sometimes needed to be broken.
"I've seen it, sir, but I don't usually work in there. Augustus Rookwood is the lead on prophetic studies and he's... I mean to say that I'm almost certain he's not on our side of this war."
"You've answered my second question without me having to ask it, then. I believe you're quite right about Rookwood, and you should exercise caution around him. This may prove difficult, because my last request of you is to keep careful watch on him."
"S-sir? Spy on Rookwood?!"
"Not spy, really. Simply be aware of his movements, and let me know if you see anything noteworthy. If my thoughts about this prophecy are accurate, he will be on the lookout for it. He must not find it."
"Professor... even if he did find it, how exactly would he get it?" She asked curiously, her brows furrowed.
Dumbledore did not answer right away, and to her surprise he looked quite confused. It wasn't an expression she was accustomed to seeing on his wise face.
"I presume that I've foolishly assumed that taking a prophecy from the Hall would be an easy task for Lord Voldemort?" He asked after a moment.
"Well, yeah... for anyone. The only person who can take a prophecy from it's place is the person who it was made for. So in this instance, if you're correct in thinking that woman made a true prediction and it's about Lily's son, the only person who would be able to take it from the shelf is the boy."
"Fascinating." He said, his eyes twinkling with interest. "I deeply appreciate your time, Ms. Quinn. Lay low at the Ministry and contact me if you notice anything amiss."
"Yes sir."
She didn't get a chance to ask any other questions as Dumbledore swooped from the room quicker than what seemed natural for a man his age. Molly bustled into the kitchen a second later, a baby with the teeniest wisp of red hair covering his head perched on her hip.
"Áine dear, glad you two are finished up. I was worried I'd interrupt you." She greeted, warm yet distracted. "It's nearly time to start supper. Bill! Charlie! Boys, come and set the table please!"
There was a great rumbling noise that shook the entire house as it approached the kitchen. Two boys, aged ten and eight, bounded in and began grabbing stacks of plates and cutlery.
"Are you staying for dinner too?" The oldest one asked her.
"No, sorry. I must be going here shortly. I wish I could though." Áine smiled.
The boy shrugged, counting the stacks of plates. Before she could turn to head towards the garden, Molly blocked her path and shoved the small baby she had been holding into Áine's hands.
"Hold Ronnie for a moment, will you please? This doesn't take long to cook but it would go much faster if I had the use of both hands."
Áine didn't answer, staring wide eyed at the baby she now held at arms length. Molly bustled on about whatever it is she was cooking while Áine and the baby stared at one another. It was in this state of unease that Lily found her. She tried to perch the child on her hip the way Molly had done, although it didn't feel at all natural and the child instantly threaded his slobbery fingers through her hair and yanked hard.
"Oi! Gentle, will you?" She muttered quietly, trying to pry her hair from his grasp.
Lily laughed. Just then a boy who looked to be about four ran in, tears streaming down his face as he latched onto Molly's leg.
"Mum! They've done it again! It's the third time this week!" He sobbed.
"Oh, again? Honestly! Fred! George! You get in here right this second!"
Two identical toddlers padded in, matching grins on both their faces. They looked sheepish as their mother shot them a stern look.
"How many times have we talked about this? Your brother's books are to be left alone, do you understand?"
"Yes mummy." They both chanted, as if this were a rehearsed response that they had used many times before.
"Set them right, now. Dinner will be ready soon."
Áine made eye contact with Lily, and both women stifled a laugh. There were so many children, they wondered how Molly did it. Just being in the same room with them all was overwhelming, but happily so. Áine was just about to say that she missed out on having siblings when the baby she held spit up all over her shoulder.
"Oh, Ron! Sweetie, is it your tummy again?" Molly cooed, taking him from Áine and bustling from the room.
Lily was in stitches as Áine used a rag to try and mop up the mess on her sleeve.
"Oh, so funny. Just you wait, another month and you'll get what's coming to ya, ya arse."
"Relax, Áine. It's just a little spit up."
"It's disgusting." Áine groaned, retching a bit before giving up. "Let's go, I need out of these clothes."
They found James and Sirius in the garden, and after telling both of them off for making fun of her, Áine accompanied them back to the Potter's flat to help them start packing.