SuperPotterLock - The Order of the Phoenix

Number Twelve Grmmauld Place

'What's the Order of the-?' John began.

'Not here!' snarled Moody. 'Wait 'til we're inside!' He pulled the piece of parchment out of John's hands and lit it on fire with the tip of his wand.

John looked around at the houses again. They were standing outside number eleven, to his left was number ten, to the right, however, was number thirteen.

Sherlock let out a soft, 'Oh.'

'What?'

'Think about what you just read,' Sherlock whispered.

John thought, and as soon as he reached the part about number twelve, a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way.

'Come on, hurry,' Moody growled, prodding John in the back.

They walked up the worn stone steps, staring at the newly materialised door. Its black paint was shabby and scratched. The silver doorknocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox.

Lupin tapped the door once with his wand. Many loud, metallic clicks echoed inside, and the door creaked open.

'Get in quick,' Lupin whispered, 'but don't go too far inside, and don't touch anything.'

They stepped over the threshold into the almost total darkness of the hallway. It smelled damp, and dusty, with an almost sweet, rotting smell.

The others came in behind them, dragging in John's trunk and Dolly's tank. Moody was the last to limp inside, and closed the door behind him.

As soon as the door closed, John's stomach lurched, and a terrible fear overcame him. 'I don't like it in here,' he murmured, shaking his head and backing away. 'Let me out.' He turned around, but Sherlock was behind him, stopping him from leaving. 'No, no, let me out.'

Sherlock grabbed his shoulders.

'I don't like it,' John cried, shivering, and holding his head. 'I don't like it.'

'Remember this,' Sherlock muttered, squeezing John's palm as Sam had shown them.

John nodded, squeezing it himself. It calmed him enough, but not all the way, and his heart still raced.

'Ready?' Lupin asked, putting a hand on John's shoulder.

'Yeah.'

Lupin took them upstairs and showed them to their room.

John immediately lay down on the bed with his eyes closed. It was as though the house itself was pouring with hatred, and it seeped into his bones. 'Don't make me stay here,' he mumbled.

Sherlock sat beside him and held his hand. 'We must. You're safe here.'

'Can't you feel it?'

'Of course I can.'

John curled into a ball. 'It won't stop.'

Sherlock looked around. 'Perhaps we can make this room more comfortable.' He began unpacking John's things, putting up his photos, and setting Dolly's tank up in a corner. 'Does that help?' he asked, bringing Dolly over to him.

'Not really.'

'What about this?' Sherlock bent down and kissed him softly.

John smiled slightly. 'Yeah, maybe a bit.'

Sherlock kissed him again. 'I'll get Mycroft to get you some more of your things from home. Bedclothes and perhaps even your curtains. It should help with this room.'