Remembering Me

Not long after Jessica left, three more came: Alastor Moody, commonly known as Mad-Eye, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Robert Howlett, all veteran Aurors.Strictly speaking, Moody has retired, and no one who sees him will say that he has not done enough to combat the black arts; Kingsley is a big dark-skinned man, and he is a calm and reliable type , he is not young anymore, and his work direction has been biased towards planning and guiding new members; Bob, who is also tall, is the youngest of the three. He has been an official Auror for 10 years, and he is still fighting on the front line .

I always get a weird feeling when I see them, especially Bob.He signed up for the trainee Auror team two years after me, like a living reminder of how the world has worked for decades without me around.

By now Kreacher had had enough of his nose and started his first full-time job in over a decade: cursing everyone who came into the house.

"Smells of gutters and crime, werewolves, liars and thieves. The young master became a murderer, and took his disgusting associates to live in my mistress's house. Oh, poor old Kreacher . . . "

"Get out, Kreacher!"

It's actually pretty good overall, I just need to blow him out of my sight twice an hour.As long as he pulls back the curtain in front of the portrait of the old witch before he thinks of the opportunity, I'm sure I won't break his neck.

Thanks to the house-elf for obeying the tradition, Kreacher immediately walked out muttering, although within a few minutes I heard him walking up and down outside the door thinking he was hiding.This made me start to think that it was a mistake not to drive Kreacher away immediately after listening to Dumbledore. If we let him listen for a few more days, I'm afraid we won't be able to drive him away even if we wanted to.

Because of their profession, Aurors usually don't like nonsense.As soon as they arrived at the restaurant located underground, the three of them unfolded a map on the table and tapped a few times with their magic wands to zoom in on a certain part of the East End of London. marked.Bob was the main person in charge. He slid on the map and explained the action plan tactfully and succinctly—trading locations, attack angles, and ambush locations.It is easy for the less informed to focus on his right hand and not on the map that hand is gesturing.

Bob and Kingsley next to him were lucky compared to Mad-Eye, who was equally focused on one side.Living as an Auror for more than 10 years without missing arms or legs, this is not only related to strength, but more importantly, luck--Bob is inferior in this regard. His right hand is missing two fingers. Lost in an operation two months ago.

"...We will attack the gang in the East End of London next Wednesday night or early Thursday. According to intelligence, they have obtained a large number of A-level or higher-level contraband from Paris in order to please the mysterious person. The initial plan is to When they make a deal, they attack, even if they can't capture both parties, at least they can't let those things fall into the hands of the mysterious person."

I didn't miss the odd look Kingsley and Moody exchanged when Bob mentioned intelligence.

"Do you have an informant in that gang?" I asked.

"Not exactly. In fact, Jess is going to prepare for this operation tonight." Remus explained on his behalf.

"I thought she was a reporter," I said.

"She was, but she wasn't the usual reporter," Bob said.

Then I knew that Jess was a so-called unannounced reporter who had been in the most run-down and remote corners of the wizarding society for a long time.The role she plays in the Order of the Phoenix is ​​somewhat similar to that of Mundungus Fletcher, except that the level of people she knows is higher.

She was affiliated with the Daily Prophet, but no one except her immediate boss knew that she was the author of the sensational articles.Most of the time, she really doesn't write very much, and sends key information and photos to specific people through various weird ways—such as being caught in the change given by a Muggle shop next to Diagon Alley—and then the Those names are free to play.If she feels that the information at hand points to something that can't be solved by a single report, she will find an informant arranged by the Aurors or go directly to an Auror she trusts.

No one knows how she can tell who is trustworthy, but as far as she is not dead, she is not wrong in her judgment.

Bob has been eyeing that gang of black wizards for a while, but obviously those guys also have their own sources of information, and every time they can take the first step and evacuate people and things.So he planned this prelude with no paperwork, meaning covert, limited manpower and no backup.But he seems to have gotten used to this situation.

A few more details were hammered out, and a large pot of stew flew unhurriedly over our heads, hanging above the map.Bob put away the map and let the pot fall firmly in the middle of the table.Molly flew another large plate of chicken and a pile of dishes into the dining room, calling us to eat.She had been busy in the clanging kitchen, both for our dinner and out of the way.It's a collective consciousness that people in different jobs in the Order don't share information except what is necessary, in order to minimize the damage if one of us is captured alive.

Remus is also one of the participants in this operation, as for me?Whenever someone is discussing work, I'm pretty much on the sidelines.They won't drive me away, probably because they know that I was banned directly by Dumbledore not to leave here, and there is no way to leak secrets.Sometimes they ask for my advice, like when there's a fugitive - I'm pretty good at evading the Aurors.

A few more people came over at dinner, and the house became a bit of a personal place.The food is great and Molly's cooking is one of the few things that keeps me going.She herself is the most enthusiastic and happy woman I have ever met, and can probably be used as a model for the image of "mother" in everyone's mind.

"... Arthur has been looking after them for the past few days, and he's exhausted. I'll get a few more rooms ready tonight so George, Fred, Percy and Ginny can move in this weekend. It might get quite noisy in here by then, if you don't mind, Sirius..."

"How come, Molly." I grinned at her. What this old house needs most is more noise, and I doubt it can be any louder than when my mother and I were here.

Molly gave me a skeptical smile. She'd been postponing this moment. For her, letting the children move into Order headquarters would be like drawing a target on them.If your child is a Gryffindor, then this kind of worry is inevitable when things are not peaceful.For example, the Gryffindors who graduated five or six years ago did not catch up with the good times, and half of them were either dead or disabled when they were in good condition. Basically, there is nothing good about being an Auror. result.

And Molly, she has to worry seven times.

After dinner, we chatted a few more words about the "guard mission", and the guests got up to say goodbye one after another, and it was obvious that they couldn't wait to leave the house.After the dishes were cleared away, Molly also disappeared into the fireplace, leaving only me and Remus.

And, of course, Kreacher.Forget about him though, I had no intention of making myself any more uncomfortable about living in my former "home".

"Go away if you want, Moonface. I guess I'm old enough to take care of myself," I said to Remus.

"My landlord is not very happy with me recently. If you must drive me away, I can only sleep in a cave."

I shrugged and let him go.

Everyone knows he lived here so that I wouldn't be left alone, even the thorny bushes are better than here - honestly, I want to die sleeping in the last two years as a fugitive of those bushes.After all that life had done to him, Remus was still the good old man.

"Good night, Padfoot," Remus said, heading upstairs to the bedroom.

I went to the center of the living room and looked around: the heavy and luxurious curtains were full of insect eyes, the carpet was polished and frayed, the dull golden patterns on the family tree by the wall spread like spider webs, and the umbrella stand made of troll legs was always ready to trip everyone. For those planning to go upstairs, the big nose on the head of the elf stuck to the wall plaque hangs low, and the thick book on the coffee table records the pride of the so-called noble pure-blood family.The crooked chandelier above the head emits a bluish-white light half-deadly, making all this more treacherous and gloomy.

The things I've been looking at for 16 years haven't changed a bit, it's just that they were shiny and new then, and now they're dusty, rotten, and cracked, like me.

Home.warm home.

"Good night." I said to myself.