We were all in the kitchen when Remus stormed into the room, breathing heavily with his cloak in disarray. He looked straight at Mr. Weasley, completely serious and said, "They've got two." Mrs. Weasley gasped and drew her hands up to her mouth. Mr. Weasely looked grave and pained as he called a meeting - adults only. Why would they call for adults only? What could they possibly be talking about?...
"Why won't they let us in? We are mature enough to handle anything they have to say. Well, maybe not Ronald, but really!" Hermione shouted. I had just told her about the meeting they were having downstairs. Ron looked on, pretending to be offended.
"Calm down, Hermione," Ron said. "Nothing exciting happens at meetings anyway. They just talk about important things and then they're done. We talk about important things all the time; they just decided to make it an official time to talk about important things."
"Ron's right, Hermione. It probably doesn't matter," I said, still trying to placate her.
"Well, I don't know about you two, but I want to find out what's going on," Hermione said while crossing her arms and she marched, quietly, out of the room.
Ron and I looked at each other, then shrugged and followed. We went down the stairs to the room above the kitchen, and we all laid down on the ground with Ron and I resting on our elbows and Hermione with the entire right side of her head pressed against the floor. Soon enough, Ron and I were in a similar position, listening to the muffled voices of the Order.
"Kingsley told me that they had taken a random couple while they were out, presumably on a date. The girl, no one knows, but the boy had black hair and green eyes, not unlike young Mr. Potter," Remus began, grimly relating what he had gained from the Order's ministry connections today.
"How long have they been there?" Mr. Weasely asked.
"We're not entirely sure. Maybe only a day or two, but it could also have been longer than a week," Remus stated tonelessly.
"How…how old are they?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"Around the children's age, probably no more than seventeen," Remus said glumly, and Mrs. Weasley gasped.
"We have to get them out," Tonks muttered.
"It's only fair," Remus said. "After all, they're only there because the boy looked like Harry; our world, a world they no nothing of, is at fault and therefore we have a responsibility to resolve it."
"So they are Muggles, then?" Mr. Weasely asked.
"As far as we can tell. Neither of them had wands, and they haven't shown any knowledge of magic, or wizards, for that matter," Remus replied. "They also appear to be American. Mind you, they will need to recuperate here before we send them on their way. The Death Eaters have some potentially harmful methods of gaining information, and simply the psychological strain of imprisonment…"
I sat up, not wanting to hear anymore. Here we were, safe at Grimmauld Place, and there were two random teenagers, a happy couple, being interrogated by Death Eaters because one of them looked like me. I felt sick to my stomach. I started to stand up when I felt a hand on my arm. Hermione was pleading with me, and Ron was staring off at a wall.
"Harry, it's not your fault," Hermione said, but I just looked at her. "Just because the Death Eaters take people wrongly doesn't mean that you could have prevented it. And honestly Harry, if it wasn't you, it would just be the same situation with someone else. But you're special Harry; you can stop him. And then it won't have to be this way, with innocent muggles being taken off the streets. You are the solution, Harry, not the problem."
I smiled at her, half believing the words she was saying and half denying them, because it was that boy's resemblance to me that caused him to be captured, so I was slightly at fault, even if it was out of my control. But we had to help those two people. We couldn't just leave them there. If we did, then we would be no better than - than Voldemort.
Hermione saw that I wasn't really listening and sighed. "Harry, why don't you and Ron go do something, huh? I'm going to listen a little while longer, and I'll tell you what they say later, okay?"
I nodded, trying not to look dejected, and Ron and I headed out of the room. We went back upstairs, and I plopped myself on my bed, staring at the ceiling. What now?