Harry Potter 05 - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

dad dying we’re talking about!’ yelled George.
    ‘Your father knew what he was getting into and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!’ said Sirius, equally angry. ‘This is how it is – this is why you’re not in the Order – you don’t understand – there are things worth dying for!’
    ‘Easy for you to say, stuck here!’ bellowed Fred. ‘I don’t see you risking your neck!’
    The little colour remaining in Sirius’s face drained from it. He looked for a moment as though he would quite like to hit Fred, but when he spoke, it was in a voice of determined calm.
    ‘I know it’s hard, but we’ve all got to act as though we don’t know anything yet. We’ve got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?’
    Fred and George still looked mutinous. Ginny, however, took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. Harry looked at Ron, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and they sat down too. The twins glared at Sirius for another minute, then took seats either side of Ginny.
    ‘That’s right,’ said Sirius encouragingly, ‘come on, let’s all … let’s all have a drink while we’re waiting. Accio Butterbeer! ’
    He raised his wand as he spoke and half a dozen bottles came flying towards them out of the pantry, skidded along the table, scattering the debris of Sirius’s meal, and stopped neatly in front of the six of them. They all drank, and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the kitchen fire and the soft thud of their bottles on the table.
    Harry was only drinking to have something to do with his hands. His stomach was full of horrible hot, bubbling guilt. They would not be here if it were not for him; they would all still be asleep in bed. And it was no good telling himself that by raising the alarm he had ensured that Mr Weasley was found, because there was also the inescapable business of it being he who had attacked Mr Weasley in the first place.
    Don’t be stupid, you haven’t got fangs , he told himself, trying to keep calm, though the hand on his Butterbeer bottle was shaking, you were lying in bed, you weren’t attacking anyone …
    But then, what just happened in Dumbledore’s office? he asked himself. I felt like I wanted to attack Dumbledore, too …
    He put the bottle down a little harder than he meant to, and it slopped over on to the table. No one took any notice. Then a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of them and, as they gave cries of shock, a scroll of parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.
    ‘Fawkes!’ said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. ‘That’s not Dumbledore’s writing – it must be a message from your mother – here –’
    He thrust the letter into George’s hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: ‘Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St Mungo’s now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.’
    George looked around the table.
    ‘Still alive …’ he said slowly. ‘But that makes it sound …’He did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded to Harry, too, as though Mr Weasley was hovering somewhere between life and death. Still exceptionally pale, Ron stared at the back of his mother’s letter as though it might speak words of comfort to him. Fred pulled the parchment out of George’s hands and read it for himself, then looked up at Harry, who felt his hand shaking on his Butterbeer bottle again and clenched it more tightly to stop the trembling.
    If Harry had ever sat through a longer night than this one, he could not remember it. Sirius suggested once, without any real conviction, that they all go to bed, but the Weasleys’ looks of disgust were answer enough. They mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, occasionally raising a bottle to their lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure each other that if there was bad news, they would know straightaway, for Mrs Weasley must long since have arrived at St Mungo’s.
    Fred fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways on to his shoulder. Ginny was curled like a cat on her chair, but her eyes were open; Harry could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. Harry and Sirius