"Do you know where Kyle used magic?" George asked, his tone laced with indignation as he looked at Hermione's stunned expression.
"The Leaky Cauldron. It's unbelievable!"
"This is impossible!" Hermione exclaimed, shaking her head. "The Trace is designed to detect magical activity in an area, not pinpoint who performed the magic. In a place like the Leaky Cauldron, where wizards are constantly casting spells, the Ministry wouldn't be able to tell who did it!"
"But we saw the letter with our own eyes," Fred said firmly.
"And we checked it over and over to make sure we weren't mistaken," George added.
"But…" Hermione began, still trying to process the situation, only to be interrupted by Mrs. Weasley.
"There, there, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, gently guiding Hermione and Kyle toward the kitchen. "What's done is done. The important thing is that they're safe now.
"Now, I'm sure you're all hungry. I've made beef pie, roast chicken, and plenty of jammy bread."
As the group moved toward the kitchen, Mr. Weasley remained behind.
"Well, I have to go," he said apologetically. "I'll catch up with you later."
"Can't you at least stay for lunch?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"No, there's too much work waiting for me," he said with a regretful smile. "I can't be gone for long." With that, he Disapparated with a soft pop.
Fred and George, ever eager to show off, used their own Apparition to move directly from the hallway to the kitchen, appearing with two simultaneous cracks.
"Enough, you two!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, startled. "Just because you can use magic doesn't mean you should do everything with it! And how many times have I told you not to Apparate indoors?"
"Yes, Mum!" the twins said in unison, grinning mischievously as they dashed out of the room.
Kyle smirked. He knew the twins well enough to know they didn't take the reprimand seriously.
Later in the evening, as the group gathered for dinner, Professor Moody and Tonks returned. They all sat down as Mrs. Weasley served generous portions of beef pie and mashed potatoes.
"So, have you joined the Order of the Phoenix, then?" Tonks asked brightly, her hair now a vibrant shade of blonde.
"Actually, I'm not sure," Kyle replied honestly. Dumbledore hadn't explicitly mentioned it, but since Mr. Weasley had invited him, it seemed likely that he had Dumbledore's approval. Still, Kyle wasn't sure if he was a full member or just a temporary helper.
"Never mind that," Tonks said with a grin. "I think Dumbledore's just holding off because of your age. Same as these three here," she added, glancing at Ron, Harry, and Hermione.
"Wait a second," Ron said, frowning. "Aren't we already members of the Order of the Phoenix?"
"Of course not," Tonks said, laughing. "Every full member has to sign a magical contract. Have you done that?"
Ron and Harry exchanged glances, clearly realizing they hadn't.
"Well…" Ron began hesitantly.
"After all," Lupin interjected with a reassuring tone, "you're still students. But anyone allowed inside this house is considered trustworthy. Once you graduate, you'll naturally be invited to join. I promise."
"That's still three years away," Ron groaned, poking at his mashed potatoes in frustration. "I thought we were already in…"
"Don't say that, Remus," Tonks teased, her hair shifting to a light pink. "Joining the Order isn't automatic. What if they don't meet the grade requirements?"
"What?" Ron said, his fork pausing mid-air. "It depends on grades too?"
"Of course," Moody growled, his voice rough. "The Order of the Phoenix isn't a club for loafers. We're fighting Death Eaters. You think we're going to send someone unprepared to face them? Better to keep you in a safe place than let you get killed."
As he spoke, Moody leaned closer to his plate, carefully inspecting his beef pie as if searching for poison.
Mrs. Weasley noticed and frowned deeply.
"Alastor, I made this with my own hands," Mrs. Weasley said pointedly.
Moody said nothing. He knew this, of course, but decades of ingrained habits weren't so easily broken. He wouldn't eat anything—no matter who made it—without inspecting it first. In truth, he wouldn't even trust something he made himself without checking.
Mrs. Weasley, exasperated, angrily served him the smallest portion of mashed potatoes—barely more than a spoonful.
Moody didn't seem to care and continued his cautious routine, inspecting his food before taking small, deliberate bites.
The meal, however, was lively. Everyone was in high spirits, celebrating Harry and Kyle's successful encounters with the Ministry. Amid cheerful conversation, the topic turned toward Moody and Sirius.
"Will you be going to Hogwarts this year, Sirius?" Harry asked eagerly. "Continuing as professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts?"
"I'll definitely go," Sirius replied without hesitation. "I bet the curse has worn off by now—nothing to worry about."
"Great!" Harry said, his excitement evident. But his mood shifted abruptly as he clutched his forehead in pain, wincing as his scar burned.
Fortunately for him, everyone else was too focused on Sirius to notice his reaction.
"What about you, Alastor?" Tonks asked brightly, turning her attention to Moody.
Moody hesitated, not immediately replying.
With Voldemort's return, he was busier than ever. Protecting against Voldemort's attacks and tracking Death Eaters required time and vigilance. Yet, the poor Defence Against the Dark Arts training at Hogwarts worried him. With the students soon to face Voldemort and his forces, they couldn't afford to remain unprepared.
After a long pause, Moody said gruffly, "We'll see. Maybe Dumbledore can find someone better for the job."
"I don't think that's likely," Kyle muttered under his breath.
The curse on the position hadn't ended, as far as he knew. And finding willing candidates was no small task—most took the role reluctantly or because Dumbledore convinced a friend to step in.
The cheerful atmosphere persisted, and the meal eventually wound down.
After lunch, Tonks and Moody left to return to the Ministry. Kyle, however, sought out Sirius, who was chatting with Lupin in the corner.
"A library?" Sirius repeated, raising an eyebrow at Kyle's request.
"That's right," Kyle nodded. "The Blacks have been around for centuries. There must be a library or some kind of collection. I'd like to see it."
Sirius frowned, thinking hard. He vaguely remembered a study on the upper floor—his grandfather's old room, with a wall of books. But that wasn't quite the library Kyle was asking about.
"Kreacher! Kreacher!" Sirius called out.
Moments later, Kreacher appeared, bowing deeply. "Master Sirius, Master Kyle," he said eagerly, "would you like some raspberry cookies?"
"We've already eaten," Sirius said with a dismissive wave. "Do you know if there's a library in the house? Not the study—a proper library."
Kreacher's eyes lit up with pride. "Kreacher certainly does! The old master instructed Kreacher to guard it well, saying it held the most important treasures of the Blacks."
The House-elf suddenly began to sob, his voice trembling. "Master Regulus loved the library most of all. And now Master Sirius has finally asked about it too…"
Sirius's expression shifted to one of discomfort, tinged with guilt.
If Kyle hadn't mentioned the library, Sirius doubted he'd ever have thought to look for it. But seeing Kreacher so emotional, he didn't have the heart to tell him the truth.
"Yes, yes," Sirius said quickly, his eyes darting away. "Take us there—we'd like to see it."
Kreacher glanced at Kyle, his face showing hesitation and internal conflict.
The old master had explicitly instructed that only members of the Black family could access the library. But Kyle… Kyle had returned Regulus's locket and brought peace to the family's name. Surely the old master would approve.
"Why?" Sirius asked impatiently. "Can't we go?"
Kreacher immediately shook his head. "No, no, there's no problem," he said, his resolve firming. "Though Master Kyle is not a Black, he brought back Master Regulus. If the old master knew, he would certainly agree."
"Kreacher will take you there now!"