6: Number 12 Grimmauld Place

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"What's s the Order of the — ?" Harry began. 

"Not here, boy!" snarled Moody. "Wait till we're inside!"He pulled the piece of parchment out of my hand and set fire to it with his wand tip. As the message curled into flames and floated to the ground, Harry and I looked around at the houses again. We were standing outside number eleven; I looked to the left and saw number ten; to the right, however, was number thirteen. 

"But where's — ?" 

"Think about what you've just memorized," said Lupin quietly. I thought, and no sooner had I reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, than 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. I gaped at it.The stereo in number eleven thudded on. Apparently the Muggles inside hadn't even felt anything. 

"Come on, hurry," growled Moody, prodding Harry and me in the back.

Harry and I walked up the worn stone steps, staring at the newly materialized 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 pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. Harry heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open. 

"Get in quick, Harry,Emma" Lupin whispered. "But don't go far inside and don't touch anything." 

We stepped over the threshold into the almost total darkness of the hall. I could smell damp, dust, and a sweetish, rotting smell; the place had the feeling of a derelict building. I looked over my shoulder and saw the others filing in behind us, Lupin and Tonks carrying my trunk and Hedwig's cage. Moody was standing on the top step and releasing the balls of light the Put-Outer had stolen from the streetlamps; they flew back to their bulbs and the square beyond glowed momentarily with orange light before Moody limped inside and closed the front door, so that the darkness in the hall became complete.

 "Here —"He rapped Harry and me hard over the head with his wand; I felt as though something hot was trickling down my back this time and knew that the Disillusionment Charm must have lifted. 

"Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light in here,"Moody whispered. 

The others' hushed voices were giving me an odd feeling of foreboding; it was as though we had just entered the house of a dying person. I heard a soft hissing noise and then old-fashioned gas lamps sputtered into life all along the walls, casting a flickering insubstantial light over the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet of along, gloomy hallway, where a cobwebby chandelier glimmered overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls. I heard something scuttling behind the baseboard. Both the chandelier and the candelabra on a rickety table nearby were shaped like serpents.There were hurried footsteps and Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasley,emerged from a door at the far end of the hall. She was beaming in welcome as she hurried toward us, though I noticed that she was rather thinner and paler than she had been last time we had seen her.

 "Oh, Harry,Emma, it's lovely to see you!" she whispered, pulling us each into a rib-cracking hug before holding us at arm's length and examining us critically. "You're both looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid. . . ."She turned to the gang of wizards behind us and whispered urgently, "He's just arrived, the meeting's started. . . ." 

The wizards behind us all made noises of interest and excitement and began filing past Harry and me toward the door through which Mrs. Weasley had just come; I made to follow Lupin, but Mrs. Weasley held me back."No, Emma, the meeting's only for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting's over and then we'll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall," she added in an urgent whisper. 

Emma Potter; Going to WarWhere stories live. Discover now