“It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs,” said Ron.
“Time is Galleons, little brother,” said Fred. “Anyway, Harry, you’re interfering with reception. Extendable Ears,” he added in response to Harry’s raised eyebrows, holding up the string, which Harry now saw was trailing out onto the landing. “We’re trying to hear what’s going on downstairs.”
“You want to be careful,” said Ron, staring at the ear. “If Mum sees one of them again . . .”
“It’s worth the risk, that’s a major meeting they’re having,” said Fred.
The door opened and a long mane of red hair appeared.
“Oh hello, Harry!” said Ron’s younger sister, Ginny, brightly. “I thought I heard your voice.”
Turning to Fred and George she said, “It’s no go with the Extendable Ears, she’s gone and put an Imperturbable Charm on the kitchen door.”
“How d’you know?” said George, looking crestfallen.
“Tonks told me how to find out,” said Ginny. “You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can’t make contact the door’s been Imperturbed. I’ve been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there’s no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap.”
Fred heaved a deep sigh. “Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape’s been up to.”
“Snape?” said Harry quickly. “Is he here?”
“Yeah,” said George, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds; Fred and Ginny followed. “Giving a report. Top secret.”
“Git,” said Fred idly.
“He’s on our side now,” said Hermione reprovingly.
Ron snorted. “Doesn’t stop him being a git. The way he looks at us when he sees us . . .”
“Bill doesn’t like him either,” said Ginny, as though that settled the matter.
Harry was not sure his anger had abated yet; but his thirst for information was now overcoming his urge to keep shouting. He sank onto the bed opposite the others.
“Is Bill here?” he asked. “I thought he was working in Egypt.”
“He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order,” said Fred. “He says he misses the tombs, but,” he smirked, “there are compensations . . .”
“What d’you mean?”
“Remember old Fleur Delacour?” said George. “She’s got a job at Gringotts to eemprove ’er Eeenglish —”
“— and Bill’s been giving her a lot of private lessons,” sniggered Fred.
“Charlie’s in the Order too,” said George, “but he’s still in Romania, Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie’s trying to make contacts on his days off.”
“Couldn’t Percy do that?” Harry asked. The last he had heard, the third Weasley brother was working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic.
At these words all the Weasleys and Hermione exchanged darkly significant looks.
“Whatever you do, don’t mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad,” Ron told Harry in a tense voice.
“Why not?”
“Because every time Percy’s name’s mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he’s holding and Mum starts crying,” Fred said.
“It’s been awful,” said Ginny sadly.
“I think we’re well shut of him,” said George with an uncharacteristically ugly look on his face.
“What’s happened?” Harry said.
“Percy and Dad had a row,” said Fred. “I’ve never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It’s normally Mum who shouts . . .”
“It was the first week back after term ended,” said Ron. “We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he’d been promoted.”
“You’re kidding?” said Harry.
Though he knew perfectly well that Percy was highly ambitious, Harry’s impression was that Percy had not made a great success of his first job at the Ministry of Magic. Percy had committed the fairly large oversight of failing to notice that his boss was being controlled by Lord Voldemort (not that the Ministry had believed that — they all thought that Mr. Crouch had gone mad).
“Yeah, we were all surprised,” said George, “because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn’t going to complain . . .”
“So how come they promoted him?”
“That’s exactly what we wondered,” said Ron, who seemed very keen to keep normal conversation going now that Harry had stopped yelling. “He came home really pleased with himself — even more pleased than usual if you can imagine that — and told Dad he’d been offered a position in Fudge’s own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts — Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think.”
“Only Dad wasn’t,” said Fred grimly.
“Why not?” said Harry.
“Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody’s having any contact with Dumbledore,” said George.
“Dumbledore’s name’s mud with the Ministry these days, see,” said Fred. “They all think he’s just making trouble saying You-Know-Who’s back.”
“Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who’s in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks,” said George.
“Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he’s friendly with Dumbledore, and he’s always thought Dad’s a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession —”
“But what’s this got to do with Percy?” asked Harry, confused.
“I’m coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family — and Dumbledore.”
Harry let out a low whistle.
“Bet Percy loved that.”