Harry was fairly sure that the entire Order was rarely in attendance at any of these meetings. For all the crowd around the kitchen table, tonight seemed to be the same. He didn't spot Bill or Charlie anywhere, or several other people he thought were likely in the Order.
Remus, seated to one side of the headmaster, smiled at the boys straight away. Or maybe just at Harry; it was hard to be sure. Professor McGonagall, on Dumbledore's other side, looked like she tasted something sour, however.
"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said, grinning. And then more pointedly, "Wotcher, Draco!" She snapped her gum and grinned even more widely when Draco, clearly discomfited, stammered, "Er, hallo, Miss Tonks."
Tonks was flanked by Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt. The black Auror looked calm enough, but Moody was staring at Draco like--well, like mad. He was practically frothing at the mouth, his magical eye almost popping out of his head, just as if he thought he could see through Draco if he tried hard enough.
Sighing, Harry told himself that the two would probably never get on, even if this Moody wasn't really the one who turned his brother into a ferret in fourth year.
On the other side of the table, Molly Weasley was busying herself by slicing some homemade pumpkin bread. Arthur sat next to her. Harry's survey stopped cold, then, since next to Arthur there was an elderly woman whom Harry had never seen before.
It might not be polite to stare, but Harry did, racking his brains to try to figure out who she might be. The woman stared back at him, her mouth neither smiling nor frowning. Cool, that was it. But her eyes were a warm, kind brown.
Just like Remus' eyes, actually.
Without a word, Harry slid in next to the new woman. Not that there were many free chairs available. Meanwhile, Draco raised his chin, a clear sign that he was feeling out of his depth and hiding it. As he seated himself by Kingsley Shacklebolt, he nodded rather regally at several people around the table, though he ignored Moody completely.
Snape took the end opposite the headmaster, who appeared unflustered by the boys' presence. However, Harry noticed that men at the two ends of the table did lock their gazes for several seconds. He wondered if another one of those telepathic conversations was taking place.
"Before I get on with the purpose of tonight's meeting," the headmaster began, "I'd like to introduce Lucinda Lupin, who has been working with Professor Snape on our werewolf project."
"Werewolf project?" Several people around the table asked the question at once.
Dumbledore merely curved his lips in one of those inscrutable smiles he favoured. "Yes. Lucinda?"
The old woman stood up as she introduced herself. "As Remus' aunt, I became interested long ago in lycanthropy. Ever since he was infected, I've been researching the ailment in an effort to understand it, and hopefully, learn how to reverse it. The development of the Wolfsbane Potion, which Professor Snape and I were both involved in," here, she gave Snape a respectful glance, "was a great boon to my nephew and others so afflicted. However, I have long felt that more could be done. My research indicates that a potions-based treatment to repress the transformation should be possible. My personal goal is surely obvious, but if we succeed, the benefit to the Order will be significant. Our goal is to win the werewolves over to our side rather than allowing them to ally themselves with He Who Ought Not Be Mentioned. Any breakthrough in lycanthropy treatment would be a huge enticement."
"How's that coming along?" Tonks asked.
"Not very well, I'm afraid," Lucinda answered. "The Professor's priority this year has been his new family. More significantly, perhaps, is that Remus has been largely unavailable due to his recent assignment."
Again, a buzz of noise circled the table. Several questions echoed all at once.
"Assignment?"
"Why would recruiting the werewolves impede him from participating in this research?"
"Unavailable? How's that?"
Dumbledore waited until the Order members quieted down. "Remus has been abroad, impersonating Lucius Malfoy via Polyjuice whenever possible, in order to secure information from Death Eaters and also, to foment ill-feelings within the ranks."
"Divide and conquer," said Moody, nodding sagely while the others either looked nonplussed, or stared at Remus with new respect. "Yes. Good."
"Due to several factors then," continued Lucinda briskly, "the werewolf project has largely stalled. We haven't developed any new approaches or theories in months."
"Well that's no good," Moody declared, his mood shifting like quicksilver. He actually began thumping the table with his fist. "Snape there may be enjoying his retirement from active duty, lollygagging about without a care in the world now that braver wizards have taken on his danger for themselves, but he ought to be accomplishing more than cozying up to Potter!"
"In point of fact, Alastar," said Dumbledore rather mildly, "there is nothing Severus could be doing that is more important than providing young Harry with a stable, loving home environment. We will need Harry's strength in the times to come, and there is more to strength, you realise, than how fast one can fly upon a broom."
Wow, he sure has changed his tune, thought Harry, a little stunned by the blanket endorsement of Snape-as-father. Of course, he didn't much like being called "young Harry," and he was pretty sure those splotches of red on Severus' cheekbones meant he didn't appreciate everyone knowing about the "loving home," he was providing, but still . . .
A lot of Harry's resentment of the headmaster faded away, right then and there.
"But neither is he quite committed to the werewolf project," Moody grumbled, turning his head to stare Snape down. "You've made it more than plain how you feel about Lupin here."
"Indeed." Snape's cheeks resumed their usual pale shade as he spoke in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yes, that's right. I'm so consumed by my personal dislike of Lupin that I've resolved to forego the inevitable fame and fortune that would result from curing the incurable. How very Slytherin of me."
As Harry glanced across the table at his brother, the two of them could barely repress their snickers of laughter.
Moody harrumphed but didn't say anything further.
"Gentlemen," Dumbledore quietly resumed, "although the project has been neglected these past months, I'm pleased to announce that we anticipate renewing our efforts this summer, since Remus will be completing his mission closer to home. That is, in fact, the main focus of tonight's meeting." He paused briefly until it seemed he had everyone's full attention. "The Order has been given an unexpected boon. Lucius Malfoy is dead."
A chorus of shocked exclamations rang out, ranging from "Why wasn't I told?" to "Good riddance!" to "Well, it's about damned time."
A lot of the comments were pretty insensitive, Harry thought, considering Draco was sitting right there listening. Sure, Lucius had been an awful person. It didn't mean Draco wanted to hear just how much everybody hated him, though, did it?
One person stood out though, as the compassionate motherly-type she was. "Oh, you poor, sweet dear," crooned Molly Weasley as she leaned forward, hands extended. Her expression and posture both oozed sympathy. "Are you quite all right?"
For the first time, then, Harry thought he saw Draco's attitude toward the Weasleys waver. Just for a moment, Draco held Molly's gaze. He nodded, but the bleak look in his eyes told another story. No, he wasn't quite all right. He was ashamed to be related to Lucius.
Harry knew how it felt to be ashamed of your relatives.
The moment passed quickly though. Recovering his composure, Draco raised his chin, sniffing a little bit before insisting that he'd never been better.
Once the general excitement died down, the headmaster, assisted by Draco and Harry, informed the Order of the details of the boys' abduction and Malfoy's subsequent death. It wasn't wanded magic that had killed Lucius Malfoy though, not in the version Dumbledore told. He claimed that Harry had gotten so angry seeing his brother tortured that his wild powers had exploded again, just like on Samhain, but with even more devastating results.