But what? What could have happened at the Ministry that they would need to keep secret?
Harry had no more time to think, though, because his father was speaking again, and he had to listen to that, hopefully to pick up a few more clues.
"What else can you tell us, Lupin?"
Huh. Harry wouldn't exactly call Snape's tone gentle, that time, but it was a hell of a lot less harsh than usual. And that, more than anything else, convinced Harry that something strange was going on.
Something very strange.
Remus briefly closed his eyes, looking defeated, somehow. "There's little else to tell. The Dark Lord and I were in the very bowels of the Ministry, in tunnels beneath the lowest level, as he directed his charges on the levels above, controlling them using a variety of Legilimency that requires no eye contact. Legilimency being an art that can be misused," he suddenly added, lips twisting. "And when they were in position, he triggered the spells that would serve as . . . fuses."
A pair of fat tears rolled down Mrs Weasley's cheeks. Arthur clutched one of her hands with both of his, looking like he was trying to lend her strength.
Remus began speaking more quickly. "And then the earth shook, and he looked to be in raptures over how well it had all come off, and with the wards down completely by then, we Apparated to what used to be the Atrium, to survey the damage before we escaped back to Little Hangleton, where he gloated all night."
Harry hated to ask, but he felt like he had to know. "Er . . . Remus? Did Voldemort send me that hateful message before or after he'd set off the explosions?"
For a split-second, Remus looked nothing short of baffled, but he covered it soon enough. "After. Part of his gloating."
Remus hadn't known the answer, Harry realised. He hadn't known about a message at all. Either Voldemort had sent it without even going into any kind of trance--unlikely, from what Harry knew of Legilimency--or Remus wasn't with Voldemort at the moment he reached out towards me.
And that's the case . . . has to be. It would explain why Snape shut Draco up like that.
So . . . Remus wasn't with Voldemort like he's claiming he was. He was somewhere else. But where? Doing what?
And why is it something he can't mention to us?
"What's this all about? What message?" pressed Moody, scowling at Harry.
"I'll explain that after Remus finishes his report."
"It's finished," said Remus, his face more weary than Harry had ever seen it. Cruciatus, definitely. Oh, no. He must have done something that Voldemort had disapproved of. Had he tried, hopeless as it must have been, to save one of the children?
But that didn't make any sense. Remus would probably be dead in that case. He certainly wouldn't be sitting here, claiming to be Voldemort's most trusted Death Eater. Remus wouldn't lie to the Order like that.
Except . . . he was lying about something, wasn't he?
Mainly because he didn't have much choice, Harry managed to get his mind off the puzzle, and onto what Moody had demanded to know. In as few words as possible, he explained about the awful Happy birthday he'd heard in his mind.
Moody snorted. "Thought you Occluded better than that, boy. Or did your father mislead us on that account? Wouldn't be the first time he's been less than honest. He ought to take a page from the rest of us, good people who know the difference between truth and lies--"
"That's quite enough, Alastor," said Dumbledore, but his warning glance was directed at Snape.
Remus, meanwhile, had gone stiff, his face looking like it might crack from stress.
Snape's robes billowed as he took a step closer to the table and glared down at Moody, who glared right back. "There's a time and place for deceit in warfare, as you well know. Or would you rather I'd told Voldemort the truth about the Order? He did ask, I quite assure you. He asked incessantly."
"I was trying out some new magic, and I thought Occluding was getting in the way," Harry quickly put in, hoping the two men would drop their argument. Nobody was going to win it, after all. Neither Moody nor Snape was going to back down an inch.
"Well, mind you're more careful in future," snarled Moody, his magical eye spinning as he whipped his head around to face Harry again.
"Harry didn't cause the attack!" said Draco, his voice louder than it needed to be.
"Didn't say he did. Obviously, he didn't. But it could still be a problem, Potter making a habit of giving that swine access to his mind!"
"Yeah, I remember getting Sirius killed, thanks!" shouted Harry.
"Boys, boys," said Dumbledore soothingly, in a tone that Harry suspected included "boys" far older than seventeen. "This is a stressful time for everyone. I suggest we let our tempers calm. Perhaps some tea and cakes wouldn't come amiss."
Mrs Weasley began rising to her feet, but Dumbledore gave a tiny shake of his head and waved his wand several times in a complicated swirling pattern. Food appeared from one end of the long table to the other. Fancy little cakes, crumpets smeared with cream and jam, tiny cucumber sandwiches . . . along with three pots of fragrant tea.
The elves must have had all this made and ready to go, Harry thought, reaching for a crumpet. Mmmm. He'd missed Hogwarts' cooking, especially on days when Draco had been in charge of food. Though Harry had to admit, his brother had had less contempt for cooking once he'd realised that Rhiannon wasn't any sort of witch.
Mrs Weasley got up anyway, bustling about to fetch cups and saucers. She neatly slid a plate in front of Harry so he had somewhere to set his crumpet down. "Thanks, Mrs Weasley."
"Of course, Harry, of course," she answered, barely sparing him a glance as she hurried around the table, keeping herself busy.
Harry glanced about for his father, thinking he'd take him a cup of tea and quietly ask what going on. What is Remus so carefully not saying? On second thought, he decided that a question like that should wait until they were all home. But he could still bring Snape that cup of tea.
That was when he noticed that Snape was slipping from the room, moving as silently as a wraith, the conversations all around serving as a kind of cover to keep his absence from being observed.
And Remus was nowhere to be seen.
Harry waited until Dumbledore's back was turned--he was speaking intently with Moody--and then he slipped out, too, stepping as quietly as he could, following the very faint scent of potions that clung to his father's clothes.
He stopped when he heard voices coming from behind a closed door.
"Take it, Lupin," Snape was saying, his voice pitched low, his tone serious.
"That's not necessary, Severus--"
"It is. I know it, and you know I know it."
Remus gave a sigh. "Don't, Severus. You weren't meant to know."
Snape's voice lowered still further, until Harry had to strain to hear. "Then you should Occlude far better. How have you managed to fool him, when you cannot even fool me?"
"Being here, seeing . . ." Harry heard a rustling noise, and wondered what it meant. "It was more difficult than I expected."
"Obviously," said Snape, dryly, but again, without any malice that Harry could detect. "Perhaps meetings should be more . . . limited, in the coming months."
"Better to face it." Remus' voice became impatient. "Severus, put the potion away, now. You know I don't dare use it. The Dark Lord would wonder over my recovery, and he would only punish me again."
So Remus had been punished . . . he'd done something at the Ministry, when he'd been out of Voldemort's sight, something that had angered Voldemort . . .