The Art of Living - R. Black

twenty seven

TW Death, violence

- - - -

July 27th, 1997

"Hello, Harry," Hagrid bellows as soon as the front door opens. "You're looking fit."

Harry grins and immediately goes to hug Ron and Hermione.

"Yeah he's absolutely gorgeous," Moody teases, his voice monotone. "What say we get undercover before someone murders him."

I follow Moody and Arthur Weasley into 12 Privet Drive. Harry gives me a quick hug as I walk in before all of us file into the empty living room. Moody throws two sacks down in the middle of the floor and goes to look around.

"Kingsley, I thought you were looking after the Prime Minister," Harry says.

"You are more important," Kingsley replies.

Bill Weasley and Fleur enter the room and start talking to Harry with an interjection from his younger brother, Fred. Bill points to the scars on his face, "Yeah, owe it all to a werewolf named Greyback."

"Well, you're still beautiful to me, William," Fleur says, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.

I wish Regulus was will me. I look over to where Jack is standing at my side. I don't mind his presence one bit, but I wish that Regulus was here. But it's not safe for us to go stuff like this together, especially because of the kids.

"Just remember, Fleur, Bill takes his stakes on the raw side now," Remus teases.

"My husband, the joker," Tonks says, shaking her head. "By the way, wait til you hear the news. Remus and I-"

"Oh, all right, all right!" Moody grumbles as he comes back into the room. "We'll have time for a cozy catch-up later. We've got to get the hell out of here... and soon!"

I glance at Remus and Tonks and give the two of them a knowing look.

"Potter, you're underage, which means you've still got the trace on you," Moody explains.

"What's the trace?" Harry asks.

"Why, if you sneeze, the Ministry will know who wipes your nose. The point is we have to use those means of transport the trace can't detect," Moody says, "Brooms, thestrals, and the like. We go in pairs. That way, if there's anyone out there waiting for us, and I reckon there will be, they won't know which Harry Potter is the real one."

"The real one?" Harry questions, sounding slightly concerned.

Moody pulls out a flask. "I believe you're familiar with this particular brew." He pops the lid open.

"No. Absolutely not," Harry says.

"I told you he'd take it well," Hermione says.

"No, if you think I'm going to let everyone risk their lives for me, I-"

Ron smirks, "Never done that before, have we?"

"No! No, this is different," Harry says. "I mean taking that, becoming me-, no!"

"Well, none of us really fancy it mate," George says.

Fred grins, "Yeah. Imagine if something went wrong and we ended up a scrawny, specky git forever." He looks over at me and winks and I roll my eyes.

"Everyone here is of age, Potter," Moody says. "They've all agreed to take the risk.

Someone clears their throat and Mundungus Fletcher steps forward. "Technically, I've been coerced," He says. "Mundungus Fletcher, Mister Potter. Always been a huge admirer."