Hp: Hermione and Darkness

Hermione read the statement several times:

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

She glanced around anticipation building. When nothing happened, she turned to Tonks with a puzzled expression.

"Do I need my wand or something?" she asked.

"Nah," Tonks said. "Just think about it really hard and then find it."

Hermione did as she was told and started looking for a row house with twelve on it. Then she realised there was no number twelve—the addresses went from eleven to thirteen.

As soon as that specific thought crossed her mind, a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen. Hermione's jaw dropped as dirty walls and filthy windows followed the door. It was like an entire house had materialised from thin air between the other two. The whole landscape of the street was changing to accommodate this new addition.

Even after it stopped expanding, Hermione could barely believe her eyes. Five years of magical instruction could never have prepared her to watch a house basically be birthed into the quiet street.

Tonks chuckled at Hermione's face. "It never gets old, believe me."

"I can imagine."

"Right, so shall we go in?"

Hermione nodded and followed the Metamorphmagus up the worn steps to the shabby front door. On the door was a silver knocker in the shape of a twisted serpent, but it had no keyhole, handle, or anything else that would indicate it to be a door. Nonetheless, the door swung open as they approached.

The front door opened, and Hermione was immediately hit with a damp, rotting smell that burned her nose. She held her breath as they entered a long hallway lit with gas lamps and a large overhead chandelier. The hallway, once a grand entryway with ornate portraits lining the walls, was now filled with cobwebs and peeling wallpaper. The worn carpet beneath her feet did nothing to silence the creaking floorboards underfoot. Much of the decor in the entry hall was in the form of serpents, and the walls were covered with ornate portraits of very irritable and cranky wizards and witches.

Curiously, the most prominent portrait on the wall was covered with a large black tarp or curtain. Hermione jumped at a loud crashing noise as they passed the covered picture. Her head snapped to her right where Tonks should have been. Instead, Tonks was on the floor, tangled with a large umbrella stand that looked suspiciously like a severed troll's leg.

Hermione bent down to help Tonks but froze when she saw the witch's wide-eyed fear. As if in slow motion, Hermione followed Tonks' gaze to the covered portrait, only the picture wasn't covered anymore. The curtain was ripped aside when the first screams pierced the mouldy air.

Then chaos descended.

A shrill, piercing voice from the portrait echoed through the hallway. "FILTHY MUDBLOOD! DISGUSTING BLOOD TRAITOR SYMPATHISER! SCOURGE OF THE EARTH!"

"Shut it, you old hag!" Ron's voice magically floated through the screeching.

"YOU'RE POLLUTING THIS SACRED PLACE WITH YOUR PRESENCE! AND YOU! YOU BLOOD TRAITOR! ALLOWING THIS FILTH, THIS TRASH IN MY HOUSE!"

"Can someone help me get the old codger covered up?" Ron emerged from a doorway off the hallway to the left, immediately grabbing the tarp. "Hi, 'Moine," he said with a silly grin. "Quite the welcome, eh?"

"MUDBLOODS ARE NOTHING BUT SCUM, DILUTING THE NOBLE LINEAGE OF WIZARDS!"

Another flash of red hair appeared in the doorway—Fred and George had arrived.

"Welcome to the Ritz," George said (at least Hermione thought it was George) with a bow before trying to help Ron with the curtain.

"YOU'RE ALL A STAIN ON THE MAGICAL WORLD!"

"All right, Tonks?" Fred said, helping her to her feet (or was it George?).

"Hermione! You're here!" Ginny seemed to materialise out of nowhere, pulling Hermione into a tight hug.

"WHAT IS THIS DISGRACE DOING IN MY NOBLE HOUSE?!"

"We weren't sure when you were coming!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Oi! I said shut it!" Ron yelled, wrestling with the curtain.

"What's going on in here?!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, bustling into the hallway. "Oh, Hermione dear! Welcome, welcome!"

"Uh, hi, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, finally able to mutter some words.

"Don't mind Mrs. Black," Mrs. Weasley continued.

"DISGUSTING BLOOD TRAITOR! WORST OF THEM ALL!"

"She's just a little grumpy," George said, pulling the curtain with so much force that his body nearly paralleled the floor. "Not sure if you could tell."

"Here, let me help!" Tonks said, finally disentangled from the umbrella stand.

"No, please don't!" Mrs. Weasley pleaded.

"MUGGLE-LOVING MATRIARCH OF A BROOD OF BLOOD TRAITORS. WHAT A PITIFUL LEGACY!"

"Mrs. Black?" Hermione asked.

....

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