Could Things Get Any Worse?

"I Live Here. What Business Do YOU Have Here?" ~Hermione Granger

          Harry felt like giving up.

          It seems that whenever life seemed to be going okay, fate had to throw another curveball into his peace. Seriously, when would he get a break? He pushed his glasses up and rubbed his face wearily.

          Ron, however, had not taken the whole ordeal so calmly. Or quietly, for that matter. His red headed friend reddened to the point where it was even darker than his hair. And that was saying something, since Weasley's were renowned for their bright red hair.

          "What?!" Ron bellowed, steam practically billowing out of his ears. "That filthy, evil creature has a grandson?!"

          Dumbledore, the one who telling the pair (the whole Order of the Phoenix, actually) the news, nodded gravely. "We must be assured that this young man will not join his grandfather by any means, even if it means he refuses to join either sides. Though, it would be preferred if he joins us."

          "Dumbledore," Lupin spoke up. "Should we lay the burden of war on this child's shoulders?"

          "This child," Dumbledore said the word 'child' as though it was from a foreign language. "Is already of age. He should be alright. Seeing as Harry has dealt with much ever since he was eleven."

          "Not everyone reacts to everything the same way, Headmaster," Harry said. "He might get stressed. Or choose to call the police on us, for thinking we're lunatics. And we don't even know where he lives."

          "I see your point, Harry," Dumbledore had that strange twinkle in his eyes again. "But we cannot be sure unless we try. We can easily obliviate him if we have to."

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to protest about casting any spells on a boy, even one who was of age, when Sirius shushed her. Dumbledore smiled gratefully at his former pupil, as he had been fully preparing himself for a rant from the mother Weasley about erasing Voldemort's grandson's memory.

"Continuing on," Dumbledore resumed his explanation. "About his location, Ms. Granger or perhaps Mr. Malfoy shall help us out there."

"Malfoy?" Ron burst before anyone could stop him. "Well, if Malfoy and he are chummy, then we know that he's going to choose You-know-who, because Malfoy wouldn't befriend anyone who isn't Death Eater scum." He spar out that last word.

"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said gravely. "We shouldn't submit ourselves to prejudice. You are better than that. Prejudice is the whole reason why we are in this entire mess in the first place."

Ron had the decency to look ashamed.

"Anyways," Dumbledore continued. "Mr. Malfoy and him aren't even all that close. They barely know each other. I'd hardly even call them acquaintances. Ms. Granger, I believe, has a bit of an infatuation with him." He stared at the ceiling thoughtfully, as though the chipping black paint held all of the answers to Earth's, or even the universe's, mysteries.

          Ron's ears turned red after that, but seemed to be suppressing his anger. That Hermione bit really seems to have gotten to him, Harry noted.

          "I just realized," Fred said. "That we--"

          "--Don't even know the fellow's name," George finished.