Nexus (The Demigod Wizard) Part 2

The Last Will and Testament of Albus Dumbledore

This is the sequel to Nexus. I decided to use part of another story I started writing, so that's why it might look familiar if you've read it. Here we go:

Harry folded the thirteenth pair of boxer briefs in a row. A towering pile of laundry was splayed around him, easily falling out of the bin and tumbling on the floor like a landslide. There were pants, shirts, sweaters, and even knickers—with so many people living in the Burrow in preparation of Bill and Fleur's wedding, there was more laundry in one day than Harry even owned.

Naturally, he didn't choose to be folding laundry on a Tuesday afternoon in Mrs. Weasley's bedroom. The mother witch had been distributing tasks in a frenzy as she readied the house and grounds for the wedding. Ginny suspected, however, that his mother had another motive for giving Harry, Ron, and Hermione endless chores away from each other. By separating the three, Mrs. Weasley thought she would delay their preparation to go start their work of hunting down horcruxes. Of course, she didn't actually know that was what they were doing. Everyone in the Burrow and what was left of the Order knew that Dumbledore had given Harry some crucial work to do and that Ron and Hermione were going along to help. Almost everyone in the Order had tried to either coax the truth from Harry or had tried to let them join the hunt.

So there he was, the day before the wedding, doing laundry when he should have been preparing with Ron and Hermione. Harry had a general idea of what to look for, but he didn't know what specifically or where. He felt bad that he had almost no plan. His friends had already done more than him: Ron had set up his alibi with a troll meant to be him with Spattergroit, and Hermione had wiped her parents' memories and sent them to Australia so Voldemort couldn't get any information from them. And Harry...he hadn't even done the packing. Hermione had that down with an Undetectable Extension Charm on her handbag.

There was a knock on the door, bringing Harry out of his worried thoughts. He jumped to his feet, laundry flying, eager for a distraction from folding and his mind. He opened the door to reveal Ginny, who was leaning against the doorframe with a curious expression.

Harry's stomach jumped. He wanted nothing more than to enjoy the beautiful summer with Ginny—take evening strolls, play Quidditch, laugh, and appreciate each other's company. But he couldn't do that to her when it would put her in danger. And he'd promised Ron not to give Ginny any reason to believe that maybe he didn't want things ended.

"Mum says to come downstairs," Ginny informed him, her mouth turned down. "She says someone is here to see you."

Harry frowned. Was it another person in the Order come to ask Harry what his special mission from Dumbledore was? Lupin, Arthur, Kingsley, and others had already tried, but Harry did not slip and they had eventually given up. Had someone not gotten the memo? Or perhaps it was someone from the Ministry come to go over the security measures for the wedding again.

Harry thanked Ginny and pushed past her, careful not to accidentally brush her shoulder as he quickly hastened down the stairs. The laundry lay forgotten.

He didn't see Mrs. Weasley at the front door or in the kitchen, so he checked in the living room. Harry walked in and immediately felt tension thick enough to cut. Sitting on the old, dusty sofa was Ron and Hermione, looking stiff and uncomfortable. And across the room from them, perched on an armchair, was the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimegour.

Harry entered the room apprehensively and slowly sat down in between Ron and Hermione. Scrimegour watched Harry's every movement with beady eyes.

There were a few awkward moments where they all stared at each other, both groups waiting for the other to speak first.

Finally, Scrimegour stood. He had thin, lanky limbs and a mane of light brown hair, making him look someone like a humanoid lion. The Minister coughed into his fist and cleared his throat. "Well, I assume we all know why I'm here," he said.