CH-7

I point my wand at him, and he stops in his tracks. "Spinner's End, in my godfather's old home. This exact time, next week. To show my sincerity, I won't even bring a wand. If I cannot make it, I will send a Patronus."

"I'll tell him."

"If he turns down the meeting, I'll know if he doesn't show up. Don't bother sending a message."

Blaise nods, and I turn to leave.

"Draco, you're doing the right thing," I hear him say from behind me.

"The right thing for me to do would be to stay alive," I reply. "This is most definitely not the best way to go about doing that."

Before he can argue, I Disapparate.

I officially hate meetings.

I hate listening to the debates going back and forth, hate that we have to make these decisions that lead to skirmishes and then deaths.

Back in school, I always loved to give my opinion. Everything was simple. Right or wrong. Any doubts? Check a textbook, or go to the library for an outside source.

But there is no book on locations of the Death Eaters. There's no book that can give us the answers to our questions. Should we attack? Set up an ambush? Where is Lord Voldemort? Who can we trust? What should we do next?

I hate meetings.

Blaise finishes the description of his encounter with Draco Malfoy in Godric's Hollow last night.

I still don't understand. What was he doing there?

George voices my unspoken question.

"I don't know what he was doing," Blaise says. "Why is that so important?"

"He was in my old house. I want to know what he was doing rooting around in there," Harry says heatedly.

It's been two weeks since the fiasco at the Leaky Cauldron and my narrow escape from Hogwarts, and Harry has made a full recovery. Ginny, sitting beside him, was elated when he could finally stand up and walk around.

"I don't know what he was doing," Blaise repeats. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just feel that since he let me go, alive, there's a possibility that he'll make good on his offer to give us information."

"We could use the information. Mundungus isn't really that reliable," says Tonks.

She's still bitter about the burning that Lupin took for her.

"The Malfoys have always been a slippery family," Kingsley Shacklebolt says in his deep voice.

He's sitting at the far end of the table and acts as a sort of unofficial leader of the Order.

"I don't trust that boy," he continues. "Even if he's sincere right now, I'm willing to bet that it's only because circumstances favor supporting the Order against Voldemort for the time being. As soon as those circumstances begin to change, he'll turn against us."

"I'm telling you," Blaise says, "he was my best friend for years. We're honest with each other."

"But you've been apart for such a long time. How do you know he hasn't changed?" Ginny challenges him.

"I just know."

"I'm afraid just knowing isn't enough," Shacklebolt says. "I don't know how much more reliable gut feeling is than Mundungus's reports."

"Malfoy gave you that scar on your back, didn't he?" Ron says to Blaise.

"I didn't leave him unmarked, either," Blaise replies. "I say that we should at least give him the chance to talk to us. We've gotten nowhere without inside information. Without a spy, it's impossible to know what they're planning."

Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff in my year who joined the Order at the Battle of Hogwarts, speaks up. "But we've got Trelawney—"

I hold back a snort.

Sybill Trelawney still isn't credible in my book. I don't care if she was the one who made the prophecy about Harry and Voldemort. Divination as a subject is simply laughable.

"And a right lot of good she's doing with her so-called Sight," McGonagall says, expressing my thoughts. "She may be my friend, but she cannot use her powers at will. Without Severus, this war is getting more and more perilous. I think we can risk this."

Blaise looks surprised that he has McGonagall's support.

"Trusting a Malfoy?" says George, the one-eared twin.

"Are you daft?" Fred finishes.

"Honestly, McGonagall," says Lee Jordan. "You remember how he was at school, don't you?"

"We are in a war, boys," McGonagall says sternly. "It's about time you put House prejudices past you and started considering the entire picture."

"If we do go through with this," Lupin says, "we shouldn't let Harry go on his own. He'll have to have someone escorting him."

"I'm not a child," Harry protests.

"Yes, but you are too valuable to be put in danger so carelessly," says Shacklebolt.

"I could go with him," Ron offers.

Hotheaded as he is, I have to admit that he has improved at dueling and wouldn't be a bad choice for Harry to bring along—the two of them work remarkably well together due to their close friendship. I could never work with either of them as seamlessly as they work with each other.

"Are we really going to trust Malfoy?" asks Angelina from her seat beside Fred.

"We don't trust him," Shacklebolt says. "Harry and Ron will meet him to see what he has to say. If he seems trustworthy, they will render him unconscious and bring him here, so that there will be no risk of breaking the Fidelius Charm."

"But won't the Fidelius Charm prevent Malfoy from revealing this location anyway, since he isn't a Secret-Keeper?" Ron asks.

"If a Secret-Keeper is killed, then every person that he or she told will become a new Secret-Keeper," I remind him.

"Right."

Shacklebolt continues, "We will question and examine him. If we decide he is trustworthy—"

"Excuse me, but how exactly do you plan to do that?" Blaise asks. "Draco's always been naturally talented at Occlumency. We can't just break into his mind."

"We'll see about that," Shacklebolt says.

Then Mundungus appears, and I barely stop myself from going to strangle him. From the looks of other fellow Hogwarts students at the table, I'm not the only one who has these thoughts. He gave us faulty information that caused three deaths. It's going to take a lot for me to forgive him.

He starts reporting some information that he received from a group of smugglers that he's been traveling with this past week, and my mind begins to turn restlessly again.

"I can't wait to kill that bloody ferret," Ron snarls, pacing back and forth.

Harry, Ron and I are inside the boys' room. The Order meeting ended a short while ago, and we came up here to discuss the boys' impending meeting with Draco. We cast the Muffliato charm on the room a few minutes ago so that we could speak without worrying about being heard.

"You're not going there to kill him," I point out.

"In all likelihood, he's just trying to lure Harry there to kill him," Ron says. "And if that's the case, of course I get to kill him."

"We do need information," Harry says. "As much as I hate Malfoy, we could use him."

I nod in agreement. "I want you two to be careful. You're both rash, and you know it. Don't put yourselves in danger unnecessarily."

"Yes, Mother," they chorus.

I reach out to smack Harry, but he dodges the blow, and I hit Ron instead. Well, I was going for him next anyway.

"Hey!" Ron says. "You're abusive."

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