XII: An Orderly Tea – Part Two

Chapter XII: An Orderly Tea – Part Two

Charis sneaked out of the lounge clutching a plate with a fat slab of carrot cake on it, her mind still buzzing with so far unanswered questions. It didn't seem right that she and Morgana had both been invited to join the Order of the Phoenix but hadn't shared this exciting news with each other. Of course, Charis well understood the need to keep the Order a secret, and like herself, Morgana had certainly promised Dumbledore not to speak of it to anyone, not even her best friend.

She crept along the gloomy hallway and then carefully made her way up the stairs, noticing the grotesque, shrivelled heads of deceased house-elves on plaques lining the wall. She had seen them before during her first visit to Grimmauld Place, and at the time Sirius had explained to her that every house-elf that had ever served the House of Black had had their head chopped off and mounted on a plaque. Charis had found the whole idea more than grisly, and now, in the dim light, when the shadows made the heads appear even more ugly and monstrous, Charis couldn't help but grimace in revulsion. The idea of beheading house-elves was horrid enough, but mounting their heads on the wall? Disgusting! Absolutely disgusting! Yet she couldn't make herself look away.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps behind her made her spin around, and she nearly dropped her plate with shock. She was now facing an elf that was, if possible, even more repulsive than those on the wall, with bloodshot eyes, a bulbous nose and white hair growing out of his ears. But even though he was standing right in front of her, he didn't seem to notice her. Instead, he was gazing almost fondly up at the dried heads.

After a moment, Charis found her voice. 'Excuse me... D-do you live here?' she asked politely.

'Kreacher has served the most noble house of Black since the day Kreacher was born,' the elf replied in a croaky, bullfrog-like voice, still avoiding Charis' eyes. 'So had Kreacher's mother.'

'Kreacher?' Charis repeated. 'I... my name is Charis... It's nice to meet you,' she added unsurely.

'The Mudblood talks to Kreacher as if she thinks he'd want to speak to her,' Kreacher muttered miserably whilst beginning to polish a plaque with the dirty, ragged towel he was wearing as clothes. Or at least, Charis thought it was a towel. The piece of fabric was in such a bad state that it was hard to tell.

'If my poor mistress knew what kind of filth is walking around in her house... Mudbloods, bloodtraitors and freaks.'

Charis was so shocked by the elf's open display of hostility that she decided she had to get away from the foul being as quickly as possible. 'Um, I'm trying to find my friend. I'll just be going, then...,' she said hurriedly, scrambling up the stairs.

'The Mudblood is calling a pureblood her friend,' the elf continued muttering, rubbing the plaque with such force that it began to rattle on the wall.

Charis, in her haste to get away from the wretched elf, turned sharply at the top of the stairs, but to her utter surprise, Kreacher called out after her.

'Not that way, Miss...' He made a strange choking sound, almost as if he really didn't want to address her, but then bustled up the remaining stairs and gave Charis the tiniest of bows. 'Kreacher will show the way.'

Charis was now even more stunned by the elf's change of attitude. 'Oh! Thank you, Kreacher. That's very kind of you,' she replied, hoping to stay on the elf's good side.

'Kreacher is bound to serve the house of Black,' he grumbled quietly, shuddering, before making his way down the corridor.

Charis followed him, frowning at first, but then suddenly realising what his words meant. As she was a descendent of the Blacks, Kreacher was bound to serve her, too! Although he clearly wasn't very happy about it, as he seemed to share his previous owner's view on blood status. But still, he had no choice.

The elf extended his hand to a door, giving a funny sort of half-bow. 'Your friend is in here,' he rasped.

'Thank you, Kreacher,' Charis answered sincerely. Having to serve such vile witches and wizards for so long must have been difficult for the elf, and his hostility was understandable. If she was nice to him now...

But Kreacher was already shuffling off back down the corridor, murmuring once more to himself. 'Mudbloods and bloodtraitors all messing about in Mistress' house, and Kreacher has to serve. The shame, the shame...'

Watching the elf disappear from sight and pondering on his plight, Charis eyed the door in front of her. It had seen better days, like so much else in the house: the doorknob seemed to be slightly loose and the paint was peeling off the dark wood. In all, the shabby state of the door stood in contrast to the highly polished, little sign that read:

Do Not Enter

Regulus Arcturus Black

Charis narrowed her eyes. The name rang a bell, and she was sure that Sirius must have told her about Regulus when he had shown her his – their – family tree, but for the time being, Charis couldn't place the name. Making a mental note to check the tapestry in the drawing room later, she knocked lightly on the door. She could hear hurried footsteps and a slight thud, which sounded like someone obviously making their way to the bed.

'I am lying down, Molly!' came Morgana's exasperated voice.

'It's not Molly,' Charis called back. 'Can I come in?'

She heard more steps before the door opened a tiny bit. One blue eye peered out in surprise.

'Charis?!'

Morgana opened the door fully now, and Charis couldn't tell if her friend was pleased to see her or not. She hadn't exactly expected Morgana to wrap her arms around her, as the Slytherin was not the type who hugged and showed emotions on a whim. But a smile wouldn't have been too much to ask for, would it?

'What are you doing here?' Morgana asked, clearly perplexed.

'I could ask the same,' Charis grinned and stepped into the bedroom. It was shabby and dark. Once, it had probably been a very opulent room. But these days, the emerald and silver pelmet was tattered, the wallpaper faded, and the carpet looked as if it had seen better days. Still, the room was clean, and the bed looked comfy.

'I asked first,' Morgana demanded, closing the door and then crossing her arms in front of her chest. Charis noticed that her left hand was heavily bandaged.

'Albus invited me to join the Order. And by the looks of it, he asked you, too.' She looked down at Morgana's hand. 'Are you alright? What happened to your hand?'

'Nothing. Molly likes to mother me, that's all,' Morgana replied dismissively. 'Anyway, what do you mean, Albus invited you to join the Order? When?'

'He sent me a letter on Monday asking to meet with him. Imagine my surprise! At first, I thought he was going to tell me that there had been a mix-up with my grades, or something, but he enquired about my job, and we talked about Sirius and You-Know-Who. And then he asked if I wanted to join the Order of the Phoenix and invited me for tea today to give my decision.' Charis paused. 'I assume you have experienced something similar?'

Morgana nodded quickly. 'I joined the day after you stayed the night, after the attack on Fortescue's,' she explained, carefully omitting the fact that she had been invited to join already on the night of their shared birthday.

'It's been a week ago since we spoke to Dumbledore then,' Charis idly realised. 'And we haven't spoken to each other since. Time's surely racing away! Remember when we had the time to spend the whole afternoon playing Gobbstones? And now look at us! Both busy having jobs and both of us in the Order. Well, this is fun!' Charis smiled. 'I brought you some cake.'

Morgana accepted the cake but placed it carefully down on the nightstand without a second glance. She wasn't entirely convinced that the word fun was the best word to describe their current situation.

'Have you accepted Dumbledore's offer yet?' she asked.

'Not yet... it's why I came here today.'

Morgana opened her mouth to speak, but Charis beat her too it. She might have barely seen her friend since they left Hogwarts, but she knew Morgana well enough to sense when the Slytherin was about to make an objection. And when it came to joining the Order, Charis was not going to let anyone talk her out of it. Hence, she changed subjects.

'Have you seen that house-elf, Kreacher?'

Morgana nodded.

'He's foul!' Charis continued, confident that she had distracted her friend. 'He called me a Mudblood earlier, but I think he's bound to serve me because I'm related to the Blacks!'

Morgana's eyebrows creased faintly at the word Mudblood. She had once given Vincent Crabbe a black eye for using that word. A house-elf should be even easier to punish.

'Make sure he doesn't poison your food,' she replied dryly, following Charis' anxious look towards the cake before grinning. 'Anything Molly makes should be fine, though.'

'The cake is great! You should try it,' Charis enthused, but Morgana only gave a half-shrug in response.

'Anyway, how are you? How's work?' Charis continued, still determined to not let Morgana come back to the subject of the Order.

Morgana sat down on the bed, which gave a worrying creak. 'Work's good. Moody is a nutter, though. Two more trainees have quit, and one was brought to St. Mungo's the other day. At that rate, there won't be any of us left by Christmas.'

At this news, Charis could only look worriedly at her friend's hand.

'Burnt,' Morgana said matter-of-factly, answering Charis' unasked question. 'Wasn't fast enough to block a Scorching Hex.'

'Ouch.' Charis was sincerely sympathetic. Her work may not be exciting, but at least she wasn't risking injury in the Department of Mysteries. She supposed a falling prophecy might hurt, but it was nothing compared to the very real danger Morgana was facing as a trainee Auror.

Morgana, however, merely shrugged. 'It stung. But I was told off, big time!'

Moody had told her off for quite a few things that day, some trivial, some more serious. Their first argument had arisen over the fact that Morgana still refused to move into one of the Ministry-owned flats. Moody liked his trainees to stay in close proximity to the Ministry and each other, but Morgana claimed that she couldn't leave Madam Nutkins. The old lady had grown accustomed to company, Morgana claimed, and she told Moody that she was responsible for buying breakfast while Madam Nutkins was in charge of dinner every day. Just why she was out buying croissants at the crack of dawn, however, Morgana omitted and with it her true reason for not giving up her room at Madam Nutkins: nightly excursions to Knockturn Alley would be virtually impossible if she lived in a Ministry flat, and Morgana was not ready to give them up. In fact, she had spent every night in the shadowy alley that week, slinking in and out of seedy bars and shifty shops, and now the lack of sleep was beginning to take out its toll, and she had a hard time focusing on her training. Moody had noticed, of course, and decided to teach her a lesson. Had he expected Morgana to be able to block his Scorching Hex, he would have aimed for a body part more vital than her left hand. But he had known that she would be too slow and made his move accordingly, scorching her left hand and bruising her ego and thus making sure Morgana would be focused the next day.

'What about you?' Morgana asked, shifting the topic on to her friend. 'How was your first week?'

'It's been okay,' Charis began, wary that she couldn't speak too much of her line of work. 'I'm not exactly solving the mysteries of the universe yet, but there is a lot of work to do. My boss is really nice.' At this, she blushed slightly, and Morgana, sensing gossip as keenly as a snake sensed its prey, patted the space on the bed beside her, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. 'Oh, do tell.'

Charis grinned and took a seat beside her friend. 'Well, he's very handsome. Sandy hair. Kind twinkling eyes. Has a way of making you feel at home, do you know what I mean?'

Morgana couldn't deny that the man sounded very nice indeed. 'Single?' she enquired.

'I don't know, actually,' Charis admitted.

'Shouldn't be hard to find out.'

'Bet he isn't,' Charis murmured, fiddling with the bed sheets nervously. She hadn't thought of Grindling in that way before. But now Morgana mentioned it...

'What about you?' she asked. 'Any hotties on Auror training?'

Morgana raised a sardonic eyebrow. 'Apart from Moody?'

Charis couldn't help but giggle. 'Yeah, a real catch that one! I've heard he can do things with that eye... that would make you scream like a banshee!'

She burst into laughter again as Morgana made groans of disgust at the very thought.

'You're sick and twisted,' she stated, her pretty little nose screwed up in revulsion.

'I thought that was your job?' Charis bit back immediately, and she didn't even mind when Morgana playfully swatted her arm in retaliation. This was just like the good old times.

'It's good to see you again,' Charis smiled. She missed this: the cosy camaraderie, the messing about.

'It's good to see you, too,' Morgana agreed. 'But, Charis... Think carefully about joining the Order, I implore you. Dumbledore can be very persuasive. Don't let him talk you into something you don't want to do.'

Charis felt a warm glow at the concern from her friend. But as far as she was concerned, Morgana's fears were unfounded. 'You don't have to worry, Morgana. I've thought it through.'

'Have you? Do you know what he wants you to do for the Order?'

'Not exactly,' Charis confessed. 'It'll be something to do with where I work, I presume.'

Morgana narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 'And that doesn't sound fishy to you?'

'Not really, no,' Charis replied. 'The Order needs eyes and ears everywhere,' she reasoned.

'Be careful,' Morgana said quietly.

Once more, Charis felt a rush of affection for her friend. 'Again, I could say the same to you,' she smiled, looking down at Morgana's bandaged hand.

Morgana shrugged and was trying to make up her mind whether to tell Charis about the task Dumbledore had set her when the creak of a floorboard out on the landing made her draw her wand. But she quickly stowed it away again, as she noticed Charis' slightly shocked expression.

'Sorry,' she said. 'Occupational habit. Constance vigilance, you know. Bet it's just Kreacher, polishing his mother's plaque.'

Charis screwed up her face, and the girls talked for some moments about the abomination of mounting chopped-off heads on plaques. Neither of them even suspected that the person who – much to his chagrin – had made the floorboard creak was none other than their former Potions master, Severus Snape.

'Seriously, though, don't worry Morgana,' Charis soothed, picking up the thread again. 'We've both made the right decision. Don't you think?'

Out on the landing, Snape scowled. In his opinion, the girls had made the worst decision possible, and he would do everything in his power to make them change their minds, even if it meant hurting them. Better him hurting their feelings than some Death Eater harming them physically. Mindful of not making another sound, he continued to listen at the door.

'I thought you hadn't made yours yet?' Morgana asked. She knew it was useless to try and talk Charis out of something once her mind was made up. Still, it didn't mean she had to like the idea. And just like Snape, she would do her best to make Charis change her mind and thus keep her out of harm's way.

'I've made it,' Charis informed her. 'I just haven't told Albus yet.'

Morgana sighed heavily. It was too late then. Charis had made up her mind. 'He must be desperate if he wants the likes of us to join,' she said instead, trying to hide the fact that she was upset.

Charis raised her eyebrows. 'The likes of us? Two hot Hogwarts graduates with great grades?'

'Hot? Speak for yourself.' Morgana felt the word hot would be the last way to describe herself at the moment. Neurotic, damaged, plain. But definitely not hot.

Snape, on the other hand, agreed with Charis. He had always appreciated Morgana's curves, and from the little he had seen of her when he had observed her through his mirror a little over a week ago, he concluded that she didn't have to be ashamed of her body either.

'Come on, sexy Slytherin,' Charis grinned, elbowing her friend gently in the ribs. 'Even I've noticed how toned you've become. Wish there was a spell to get rid of my excess fat, though.' Now it was her turn to sigh.

'That's not excess fat,' Morgana declared. 'Those are very feminine curves which you can be proud of.'

Charis giggled.

'Surely, your boss has noticed.'

'He's very sweet to me,' Charis confided. 'But he's lovely to everyone. He's such a decent man.'

'There aren't many of those out there,' Morgana replied, just a little bit more gloomy than she intended. 'Maybe I should consider my options and turn gay.'

Oh, for crying out loud! Snape decided that he had heard enough now, and with a curt knock on the door, he made the girls aware of his presence. Getting friendly with Grindling Gibbons and becoming a lesbian! What on earth had Molly put in the girls' cake?

'Quick, lie down,' Charis hissed, immediately thinking it was Molly knocking on the door, wanting to check up on her newest patient. And Morgana, not too keen on being told off by Mrs Weasley, did as she was told, amidst much creaking of the bed.

Once Morgana looked suitably settled, Charis crossed the room and opened the door. But instead of Molly, she was greeted with the stern, imposing figure of Snape, who was now looking at her like something he'd just scraped off his shoe. Charis could not help but gasp; Snape was the last person she'd expected to show up.

'I hate to break up this giggle party,' he sneered imperiously, fixing Charis with one of his blackest stares, 'but Dumbledore wants to see everyone in the kitchen now.'

'Uh, thanks, um, sir,' Charis muttered. She didn't know how to address him; Severus still seemed too informal, despite their shared intimacy and the fact that everyone else in the Order was on a first name basis. He was no longer her professor, but she was sure he would not offer an alternative.

Sure enough, she wasn't wrong. 'You'd be advised to come straight away,' Snape carried on. 'Some of us have better things to do than hang around this hovel all day.'

And with no further ado, he turned on his heel and billowed off down the corridor.

'Charming as ever, that one,' Morgana noted, hiding the disappointment she felt from Snape's lack of acknowledgement. One would have expected that he would at least have said hello. After all, they had not seen each other since their last day at Hogwarts.

'Did you know he was here?' she asked.

'I saw him earlier,' Charis responded. 'I didn't think he'd be staying for tea, though. He already turned down Molly's first cake. I hope he won't have a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp when he tries the second one.'

'Would it really surprise you if he does?' Morgana asked in a sour tone. So Charis had already spoken to Snape? Wasn't that just typical?

'Not really,' Charis answered with a sigh. 'But I don't want it to put me off my cake.'

Both girls laughed at this, even Morgana, realising that it didn't really matter whether Charis had already met Snape. Judging from the mood he seemed to be in, not having met him didn't seem like that bad an option.

* * *

Charis followed Morgana through into the kitchen, and the pair were faced with various Order members looking up at them expectantly. Lupin was sitting next to Tonks, who had Moody on her left. Dumbledore, meanwhile, was at the head of the table whilst Molly busied herself with pouring tea for the assembled mob.

'Come in, come in, girls! Sit yourselves down, that's right,' she fussed. 'Another slice of cake, I think! Girls your age need to eat.'

'Looks lovely, Mrs Weasley,' Charis grinned as the Weasley matriarch pushed a slice of chocolate cake towards each of them. Morgana, however, merely smiled weakly.

'Molly, dearest, call me Molly,' Molly trilled, clearly enjoying the praise about her culinary abilities. 'I'm sorry I cannot offer any dinner tonight, but I need to get going soon. Lots of hungry mouths to feed at the Burrow.'

Everyone was now sitting around the table, happily sipping tea and munching on cake. Everyone, that was, apart from Snape. There was a space laid for him, complete with a steaming teacup, but he seemed to have vanished. Strange, he'd had almost half a minute's head start. He should have arrived in the kitchen before the girls.

'Now, where is he moping about?' Molly asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

She did not seem to notice that Snape had appeared in doorway soundlessly, with the stealth of a panther.

'I do not mope, Molly,' he said in a low voice.

Molly blushed furiously. 'I didn't mean that, Severus,' she replied 'I... I just didn't want your tea to go cold.'

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled over his half-moon glasses as he extended his hand in welcome. 'Have a seat, Severus.'

Snape hovered for a moment, then swept across to the free seat and sat down. He lifted the proffered cup of tea, but when Molly pushed a piece of cake towards him, he said, 'I will have to decline the cake, I'm afraid.'

'Now, Severus, I implore you once more to have some cake,' Dumbledore admonished jovially. 'It's a special occasion, after all.'

Snape cocked an eyebrow. 'That special occasion,' he said mockingly, 'is still no reason for me to be eating cake.' In his opinion, this was most definitely no reason to eat cake.

'Ah, Severus. Good food is a joy to share with good friends.' Once more, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled benevolently at the stern man before him.

Snape, however, sneered at the word friends. 'So, we are now about to have two giggling youngsters in the order, then?' he hissed.

Giggling youngsters? Charis looked hurt at this comment, and Morgana clenched her jaw, wondering just what had gotten Snape's wand in a knot. He had never been cordial, but today, he seemed straight-out foul.

'Tactful as usual, Severus,' Remus said lightly, before turning to the girls. 'Ignore him.'

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes had all but gone now. 'That was particularly uncalled for, Severus,' he said carefully. 'As you know, Morgana is a trainee Auror, and Charis is now working as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. Quite responsible jobs for giggling youngsters, wouldn't you say?' he asked mildly, fixing Snape with a penetrating stare over the top of his spectacles.

'My concern is for the safety of these rookie Order members, Dumbledore,' Snape replied, his nostrils flaring.

At first, Morgana felt a wave of gratitude towards her former Head of House. He was worried about her and Charis and didn't want to see them hurt. But as he continued glaring at Dumbledore, not once even casting a glance in either her or Charis' direction, Morgana grew annoyed. Did Snape think that they weren't up for the task? What was it that kept him from believing that she and Charis could fight against Dark witches and wizards in general and Voldemort in particular? Was it the same reason he'd had when he had tried to persuade her to not become an Auror but pursue her original idea of becoming a potioneer? And why could he not just tell them why he thought they were so useless?

Dumbledore, however, answered Snape's protest quite calmly.

'Yes, I know, Severus. And even though your advice against their admission came with the most noble of intentions, the fact is that the Order needs these girls. But the decision to join or not remains, of course, entirely their own.'

He raised his teacup and toasted towards Morgana, as to acknowledge her decision, and turned then to Charis, smiling kindly. 'And you are, by all means, entitled to decline.'

Charis felt the weight of all eyes on her as she spoke. And one pair in particular she could feel boring into her, but she would not look at Snape. He was not going to talk her out of this, just as little as Morgana had been able to. Her decision was final. And if Snape thought that she didn't have what it took to be of any use for the Order, she would prove him wrong.

'Well, sir – Albus,' she said, weighing every syllable. 'It would be an honour to join the Order of the Phoenix.'

'Are you quite sure you know what you are letting yourself in for?' Dumbledore asked, as if to prove a point to Snape. 'There will be a time when we may ask you to do things at the Ministry that could go against the vows you have taken. We may ask you to spy, even to lie. But it will always be for the sake of reaching our goal: the defeat of Voldemort.'

Charis nodded. 'I understand, sir.'

'Well then, Charis, I ask you once more: Have you reached a decision?'

Again, everyone's gaze was fixed on Charis as she replied, 'It would be a great honour to join the Order of the Phoenix in the fight against... You-Know-Who.'

Dumbledore smiled serenely. 'In that case, welcome to the Order, Charis Byrne! And now, let us raise our teacups for a toast! To friends!'

'To friends,' everyone repeated, raising their cups aloft. Everyone except Snape, that was, who looked like he'd just lost a Galleon and found a Knut.