"Thank you."

"And we'll be cautious, at least as much as is practical."

"Good."

Nod.

"The headquarters is under a Fidelius, so we'll need to arrange for you two and Bellatrix to meet with the Secret Keeper - Dumbledore - ahead of the meeting itself."

"When will he be available?"

"Saturday morning works best for him, it seems, with the meeting happening Saturday evening."

"That's convenient, I guess."

She nods. "Do you two want to go over anything else with me and Bellatrix before then?"

"It's gonna be stuff we know already, right? No surprises?"

"No surprises from us, at least."

Nod. "Don't think so, then."

Anathema nods too. "I can let you know if I think of anything, but - yeah, I don't think so."

"Alright."

"Thanks for agreeing to come."

"Thanks for inviting us."

"Yeah. We want to be there."

She nods. "You two need as much information as possible, and... This affects you. You should be able to affect it."

She hugs Fay.

Hug!

Hee.

So when Saturday comes around, the household will be taking a day out.

Minus Sirius; he's foresworn ever stepping foot in his childhood home again. (Bellatrix completely understands the sentiment.)

They meet Dumbledore - only briefly - in a muggle establishment in a small city well away from anywhere they usually frequent. He tells them, "The Order of the Phoenix Headquarters is in Twelve Grimmauld Place in London," and wishes them well and expresses that the meeting is still on.

And then - time to get ready for the meeting itself. They'll be taking the floo. Bellatrix is apparently going through as a cat, so no one gets jumpy and attacks her.

She's not exactly thrilled about that.

She is a cute cat, though. Perfectly sized for shoulder-sitting.

...Well when you put it like that...

(Best Elodie.)

Headscritches.

Purr!

(Okay, she's ready.)

Into the fire, then.

Sirius's home is a narrow, dim townhouse in London. The floo lets out into a formal living room - overstuffed, faded, the portraits all covered. It looks like someone tried to clean, but the dust and grime were ingrained, and there's a foul feel to the air. There's a lanky red headed man waiting in the living room, who smiles at them and says, "Fay! You're a bit early again."

She smiles back. "Good evening, Arthur."

He runs through some identity verification with her, checks her for influence, then: "Everyone's still gathering. We're meeting in the dining room today."

"Alright," she says. "We'll go get set up." She turns to check over her companions, then leads them through the hallway - cramped, incredibly depressing - and to a large dining room in the back of the house.