Plan

Ottery St Catchpole, The Burrow.

The Ministry of Magic had been exceptionally busy lately. It was not until night had fully fallen that Arthur Weasley finally returned, exhausted.

The Burrow's door was shut, but an orange-red glow shone through the crack and every window, like a crooked lighthouse.

Those lights seemed to possess some kind of magic. The moment they fell upon Mr. Weasley, they drove away most of his fatigue.

He pushed open the door. The cramped sitting room was packed with people—ever since this place had become the Order of the Phoenix's new headquarters, there were always plenty of people in the sitting room.

"Arthur." Mad-Eye Moody, seated opposite him, looked up. His normal eye and blue Magical Eye both fixed on Mr. Weasley.

"Well? Did he tell them?"

"Just as you planned." Mr. Weasley entered and sat down. "Dawlish has already passed on the news that we'll be picking up Harry on the thirtieth to the Death Eaters."

At that moment, Mrs. Weasley brought over a cup of hot chocolate and set it on the table.

"Oh, thank you, Molly. I really needed this," Mr. Weasley said with a smile. "But could I trouble you to bring me that bottle of Firewhisky?"

"Hot chocolate with whisky? Arthur, are you sure that'll taste good?"

"It'll be fine if I only add a little."

"Well—all right."

"But Alastor—" Mr. Weasley set the hot chocolate aside for the moment and turned back to Mad-Eye. "Do you think the Death Eaters and Voldemort will believe him?"

"What?"

"I mean, everyone at the Ministry knows he's famous for being unreliable."

"I've heard that too." The eldest Weasley son, Bill Weasley, came downstairs. "The most fickle Auror around. If the papers said tomorrow that he'd joined the Death Eaters, I don't think many