Many thanks to cwarbeck for speed-betaing this chapter and doing her customary painstaking job nonetheless.
I acknowledge that Sovran asked "the ancient question" regarding Ginny and Molly before I did. My use here is a tribute to his fine work.
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Shut and Be a Bud Again | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:None Genres: General Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations Rating: R Reviews: 228 Summary: Voldemort is gone, but the aftereffects of the War linger. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione all must deal with the toll, and confront the consequences of their actions. Only one thing is certain, things will never be the way they were before. The explanation of the title to this story has been moved to the Author's Notes section of Chapter One. For those who have been reading this story, the Potter's Affairs Challenge entry When Life Gives You Lemons... is a peek ahead into the future of the Shut and Be a Bud Again story arc. Hitcount: Story Total: 47483; Chapter Total: 3410 Author's Notes: |
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The next days at The Burrow were grim. Following Harry’s lead, the four worked hard, trying to take their minds off recent events. By unspoken consensus, they did not directly discuss what had happened at Gringotts. Harry was withdrawn and seldom spoke. Hermione was depressed again, and continued to feel guilty. She grieved that it was her trouble with her family that had led Harry to rush to the Goblins’ bank. Ron tried to cheer up the others. Ginny joined in half-heartedly, then flew into rages against the Goblins or the Ministry. These rages always ended with her bursting into tears. Hermione would try to comfort her, but that inevitably ended with Hermione crying as well. At least the work got done. They cleaned the rubble and trash out of The Burrow until the flagstone floors were almost as clean as when the family had lived there. Once the remaining salvageable pieces of timber and blocks of stone were sorted and primed, they had piled the crushed rock and gravel to one side. Ron said they would be able to use those materials for fill in the walls and for lining paths. They scoured the surrounding deep grass to find the few red tiles that had survived the collapse of the larger part of the roof. At least the three stone chimneys were still intact. Nothing disturbed their isolation. Ron explained that he had warned his father that the family should give Harry some space to adjust to the shock he had experienced. Nonetheless, Ginny was incensed that they had not received at least an owl asking if Harry was okay. Harry was relieved that he did not have to deal with either appeals for forgiveness or justifications for what had been done. He was not ready to give up his anger, but he was not ready to face those he was angry with, either. Hermione’s hand stubbornly refused to heal. Despite repeated treatments with Essence of Dittany, the cut continued to break open and leak blood. Ron nagged Hermione to take a break from the work schedule and give her hand a chance to heal, but she refused. Hermione performed her share of the cleaning and preparing, but on Thursday afternoon, she suddenly became wan and tired. Harry insisted that the four of them take a break each day at noontime down by the pond. One side of the pond was shaded, where they could sit and splash listlessly at the water during the hottest portion of the day. Hermione unbent enough to transfigure herself a conservative one-piece bathing costume in navy blue and joined the others in the water. They returned to the pond each evening to wash up when the day’s work was complete. Then the two couples would sit and talk quietly about harmless subjects until the darkness drove them back to eat a scanty meal. During their noon break on Friday Ron and Ginny were whispering plans for what to do in preparation for the next day. The Weasley family was scheduled to arrive to work on The Burrow. Ron wanted to take Hermione to have her hand checked, though Hermione was adamantly refusing to go anywhere. Ginny was concerned about their diminishing supplies. The endless wicker basket was almost empty of anything still fit to eat. Ginny was polling the others on what they might want. Harry responded to her inquiries with monosyllables. As Harry listened to the two Weasleys mull over options, he noticed a small silvery form trot out of the trees by the far side of the pond. Harry touched Ginny’s shoulder to get her attention. It was difficult to make out the shape in the bright noontime sunlight. It galloped across the surface of the pond, coming to a stop in front of the four youngsters. The figure was a silvery Patronus, a proud and stately Siamese cat. “That’s Percy’s Patronus,” Ginny exclaimed. “Why is he trying to reach us?” “I am waiting at the southeast touchstone,” the silvery feline intoned in Percy’s voice, “please open the wards and permit me to enter. It is essential that I speak to you.” “Hermione,” Ron asked. “What do we have to do to lower the wards?” “A Finite should take down the wards, Ron,” Ginny advised. “Not these wards.” Hermione looked uncomfortable as she stood up. “I should go down to the touchstone and let Percy in.” She wavered unsteadily on her feet. Ron jumped up and took her arm. “Careful, luv,” he admonished, “must be too much sun.” Harry remembered that Hermione had cast the wards the night they had returned to The Burrow. He had said something about not wanting to be disturbed. What had Hermione done? A now-familiar sick feeling gathered in the pit of his stomach. “Please,” Hermione insisted. “I can take care of this.” “No, Hermione.” Harry stood up himself, gesturing to Ginny to come along. “We should all go down to greet Percy. He may have some news.” Hermione looked trapped. She gazed beseechingly at Harry. “Please.” There were tears in her eyes. “No, Hermione,” Harry repeated. “Whatever you did, you did for me. It’s my responsibility. I won’t let you face it alone.” Ron and Ginny were staring at their two sweethearts, with identical stunned expressions on their freckled Weasley faces. There was a touchstone set deep into the earth at each of the four corners of the Weasley property — four ancient granite pillars about sixty centimetres on a side, standing a metre out of the ground, and who knew how deep into the soil. Mr. Weasley had shown them proudly to Harry the first summer Harry had stayed at The Burrow. Harry recalled that he had not paid any attention beyond noting their obvious purpose to anchor the wards. Percy was waiting outside the southeast corner, pacing slowly back and forth, his head bowed and his arms crossed. He was wearing Muggle jeans and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Ginny ran on ahead to greet him. “Percy!” Her older brother looked up at the sound of his name. He saw Ginny running towards him, and held up his hands in warning, a frightened look on his face. “Stop!” “No, Ginny!” Hermione shrieked her own warning. Ginny slowed as she neared the touchstone, grabbing her head with her hands and grimacing. She staggered backwards. At the same time, Hermione fell to her knees and moaned. “What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” Ron demanded. He dropped to the ground by Hermione’s side. “Get her down to the touchstone so she can cancel the wards,” Harry ordered, as he ran down the slope towards Ginny. He was at her side in a moment. “Ginny,” Harry put a hand on her shoulder, “what happened?” The young witch was shaking her head, her hands still on either side of her face. “I don’t know, Harry, it was like something stuffed itself into my head and tried to push me backwards.” “I believe it must be the wards,” Percy offered. He was carefully standing back from the other side of the touchstone to which the wards were anchored. “They appear to be set to prevent passage in either direction.” Harry put his arm around Ginny. “I think Hermione took my request that we not be disturbed very seriously,” Harry explained. He was not going to let the witch he considered his sister take responsibility for this. His thoughts returned to his own witch. What had happened to her? Percy at least had some idea of what was going on. Harry turned to him. “Do you think Ginny has been harmed?” Percy considered for a moment before responding. “I doubt it,” he offered, “Bill hypothesized that these must be blood wards, but they cannot have been designed to cause harm to anyone from the family.” Hermione arrived, helped along by Ron. She walked directly up to the touchstone, grimacing only slightly at whatever effect the wards had on her. She placed her cut hand on the stone and waved her wand in a slashing motion above it. Then she fell to her knees. Harry did not understand the incantation she had muttered. He did, however, feel the cessation of a slight surrounding pressure. He knelt beside Hermione. Ron was already there, and Ginny, who approached the touchstone more carefully than the wizards, joined them a moment later. Percy had gone directly to inspect the touchstone itself. He examined the surface carefully. He scraped at some brown stains on the top of the stone and cast a detection spell. “Hermione?” he asked, “these were blood wards, weren’t they?” His tone of voice indicated only curiosity. “Aren’t blood wards dark magic?” Ginny was looking at the other witch with concern on her face. There was no sign of any resentment for her own exposure to the wards; Ginny’s anxiety was all for Hermione. Hermione would not meet the others’ eyes. “I found the spell last summer while I was researching dark magic for our search,” she muttered. “I was looking for spells that might be used to protect a Horcrux. The instructions said that a blood ward would prevent passage to anyone as long as the spell remained powered. The spell can only be cancelled by the witch or wizard who cast it.” “I came by for the first time yesterday afternoon,” Percy explained, “The owls were coming back without being able to deliver their messages. I found the wards in place and tried a standard dispelling charm. Then I tried something stronger.” Thursday afternoon. That was when Hermione had first begun to feel unwell. Harry did not like where this appeared to be heading. “When that had no effect, I tried a few detection charms, and the results I got matched nothing I had seen before. Therefore I decided to consult an expert.” Percy paused. “I was not able to reach Bill until early this morning.” “Wasn’t he at Gringotts?” The bitterness in Harry’s voice surprised even himself. Percy looked at Harry in surprise. “That’s right.” He shook his head. “You don’t know. Bill could not have told you four without breaking his promise to Mum and Dad that he would not let you know about the trouble with Gringotts.” “What are you talking about, Percy?” Ron was staring at his older brother suspiciously. “Bill and Fleur were let go by Gringotts’ last week.” The two witches gasped. Ron cursed. Percy continued with his account. “The Goblins accused them of helping you plan and execute your raid on the Lestranges’ vault. Gringotts agreed not to press charges in exchange for Bill’s and Fleur’s Unbreakable Vows not to reveal anything about the bank’s security practices or the ongoing internal investigations.” “That’s complete and utter bollocks,” Ron burst out. “It was Griphook who gave us the inside information about Gringotts. Bill and Fleur had been in hiding and hadn’t been to Gringotts in weeks.” “But Griphook had been on the run even longer,” Hermione pointed out. “And we did spend the month before we went after the cup at Shell Cottage.” She was pale and drawn, but her indignation burned through. “That’s the heart of it, I’m afraid.” Percy ran one hand through his thinning hair in a gesture that reminded Harry of Arthur Weasley. “When it comes to taking the word of a wizard against a goblin, the Goblins are certain to trust their own. I’m sure Griphook told the Gringotts managers that it was Bill and Fleur who gave you the information, that he only went along with the plan so he could sabotage the break-in and sound the alarm.” Harry sat down on the ground. He had never imagined even for a moment that something like this would happen. “I can’t believe we were that thoughtless.” Harry put his own head in his hands. “Bill acted as if everything was perfectly normal when he was here.” Harry could not help but contrast this with his own behaviour with Mr. Weasley a few days earlier. “What about Hermione?” It was Ron who brought them back to their immediate problem. She looked completely spent, and her hand was bleeding freely again. “She set the wards using her own blood,” Percy explained. “She linked the wards not only to the power in the touchstones, but to her own magical core as well. Set that way, the wards are not only impenetrable to most magic, they are almost impossible to break.” “What do you mean ‘almost’?” Harry was afraid he could guess the answer. “I would have needed to bring in help, but if we had applied enough magical power to actually break the wards by force, we might have killed Hermione. For certain we would have burned out her magical core.” This time it was Ron who gasped. “Hermione! What were you thinking?” Hermione was weak, but still defiant. “It worked, didn’t it?” was all she said in reply. “It’s my fault, Ron.” Harry could not look his mate in the eye. “I told Hermione that I could not bear to face anyone after the trouble on Tuesday. I asked her to make certain that we would not be disturbed.” Hermione was nothing if not thorough. “You’ve got to be more careful what you ask people to do for you, mate,” Ron admonished. Harry believed that was all the criticism that he was going to hear from Ron, but he felt a burning shame just the same. He had been feeling sorry for himself, and he had not thought about how his friends were affected by the same events. The Goblins’ action at Gringotts was at least as terrible a disappointment to Hermione as it was to him — more probably, because for Harry, it was just money; for Hermione, it was the well-being of her family that was at risk. By the time the five of them reached The Burrow, Hermione was staggering as she walked. Ron was pale with worry. Percy dispatched a Patronus messenger to Bill, asking him and Fleur to Apparate to The Burrow and check on Hermione. Ginny was giving Percy a piercing look. “Percy,” she asked, “if you came down here yesterday, why didn’t you just send your Patronus in to contact us then? Wouldn’t that have avoided some of this mess?” She waved a hand towards where Ron was hovering anxiously over Hermione. Percy looked embarrassed. “As you may be aware, I was not on the best of terms with the members of the Order during the war. I never learned the Patronus Messenger spell until I met with Bill and Fleur this morning. They taught me the spell because it was the one form of communication they were certain would penetrate blood wards.” “Weren’t you concerned about our safety yesterday when you arrived and found The Burrow warded off from the world by dark magic?” It still rankled with Ginny that no one had come to check on Harry. “Not with the magic tied into the family touchstones, Ginevra,” Percy had a lecture-mode that rivalled Hermione’s though it was narrower in scope. “No magic cast with evil intent towards any member of the family could have been anchored to the touchstones. Those stones have been bound to the family for more than two centuries.” Ginny bridled at her older brother’s use of her full name. She began to say something, but Harry interrupted to avoid a scene. “How do you know all this about wards?” Once again, he felt woefully inadequate as a wizard. “Well, father insisted that each of us select wards as one of our independent study topics for D.A.D.A. in seventh year. Bill’s the one who knows the most, obviously, he’s been working with wards for years, but Charlie and I each know enough that we can recognize unusual practices when we come across them. Father said that we wouldn’t be properly prepared to take care of our future families without a comprehensive understanding of warding magic.” Arthur Weasley, Harry thought, the perfect father, making certain that he raised a generation of sons who would make perfect fathers themselves. He had never said anything to Harry about needing to take a specialization in wards his seventh year. Harry felt a curious sense of loss. There was a pair of soft ‘cracks’ in the yard announcing the arrival of Bill and Fleur. Suddenly it came home to Harry that he was about to see two people who had lost their jobs because of his actions during the war. His last words about them the previous Tuesday had been to accuse Bill of being party to Gringotts’ effort to seize his fortune. Harry did not want to see Bill, or even Fleur. While everyone else went inside the remains of The Burrow, Harry remained outside. He knocked around the garden, searching for garden gnomes to pass the time. After a short while, Percy came back out with a parchment and self-inking quill. He walked up to the first stack of recovered materials and began taking notes. Eager to find something to distract himself from his dismal thoughts, Harry hurried over to discover what Percy was doing. “I’m making an inventory of the materials here for the rebuilding,” Percy explained. “Father will order whatever other materials are needed to frame out the shell of the house and have them Portkeyed to the site tomorrow morning.” Harry considered this. “So your Dad has a plan or blueprint for what he needs to restore The Burrow?” The Burrow had never looked to Harry as if it had anything to do with such mundane considerations as plans or blueprints. “He does now,” Percy responded. He remained absorbed in recording his latest tabulation. When he finished, Percy glanced up and noted the scepticism on Harry’s face. “Oh,” he laughed, “we’re not going to rebuild it the way it was! The new plans are much more…ah,” the usually articulate Percy searched for a word, “…conventional.” He moved on to the next stack of recovered material. As he started marking, he continued his explanation. “Mum says this,” he shrugged his shoulder in the general direction of the broken structure they were discussing, “was really a blessing in disguise. She always worried that with all the mismatched and conflicting spells tied into the structure, the whole hodgepodge could unravel and tumble down on everyone some night.” The older wizard pursed his lips in a classic Percy moue of disapproval for anything slipshod. “She was most probably right.” Harry nodded. He did not know what to say. He too had always been amazed that The Burrow stood up at all. But he was even more amazed that Molly Weasley could look on the complete destruction of the home she loved and consider it to be a piece of good luck. Percy finished listing the salvaged timbers, and started on the stacks of dressed stone. Now Harry joined in, helping to count the individual stones in each stack while Percy recorded the results. The youngsters had carefully organized the blocks into stacks where all the stones were of approximately the same size. The pair worked down the row of stone piles. “Harry,” Percy broke their routine. He sounded ill at ease. Harry looked up to see what was causing the problem. Percy had stopped recording the inventory and was staring at Harry. When he was certain he had Harry’s attention, Percy continued. “I’m something of a subject matter expert on the topic of making poor choices that deeply hurt the people who care for me.” “I know I have really messed some things up,” Harry scowled defensively. Percy sighed. “Not you, Harry.” His face took on a fond expression. “In this case, I’m talking about my father.” “What about him?” Harry’s tone was bitter. “You’ve seen something of what the Ministry is like these days,” Percy continued. Harry thought about the scene he had witnessed in the Atrium on that fateful Tuesday. He nodded. “I never thought I’d see the day,” Percy continued, unknowingly echoing Augusta Longbottom. “Most of the witches and wizards there are struggling desperately with tasks that are far outside their training or experience, all the while wondering which of their colleagues they can still trust.” “I saw the empty Auror Headquarters,” Harry offered, still thinking about Augusta. He felt a sudden stab of guilt. What was Harry Potter doing to help fix things? That feeling was submerged in the memory of the scene outside the doors of Gringotts. He would not live that way! “Father has actually done quite well as Director of Magical Law Enforcement.” Percy shook his head in wonder. “I would never have believed he had it in him, in the old days. But he is in over his head, Harry, there’s no question about that. He has made mistakes. Everyone has, from the file clerks in the records rooms right up to the Minister himself. Please don’t judge him too harshly.” Harry felt a moment of guilt. He had seen the maps and lists Arthur Weasley was struggling with to manage the D.M.L.E. He shook off the feeling. What Arthur had done was not an honest mistake about a new and unfamiliar Ministry duty. None of that had made Percy’s father deliberately conceal Gringotts’ actions from Harry. He had betrayed a family member — or at least someone he had told was like family to him. “He did not have to do what he did!” Harry muttered. “Is that standard practice at the Ministry,” Harry questioned, “to hide the status of a wizard’s own Gringotts accounts from him?” Percy looked down at the ground. “No, Harry,” he responded. “There is no justification in father’s duties for keeping you in ignorance about your vaults.” “How can I ever trust him again?” Harry’s voice broke with anguish. “I don’t know how I can even look him in the face!” “Harry,” Percy’s face was serious now. “My great mistake was not siding with the Ministry against my family, even though I was wrong to do that. My greatest mistake was isolating myself from them when we disagreed. Even if — Merlin, I can’t believe I ever thought this — the Ministry had been right and you and Dumbledore had been wrong, I still should not have rejected my family. Family matters, Harry. Family matters more than anything else in the world. I’ve had several years of lonely thinking to realize that.” Harry stared at Percy. He knew there were tears forming in his eyes, but Harry clung to his anger. He had his own family now. He had Ginny — and Teddy too! He could not forget about Teddy. He would make a place for them somewhere Harry did not have to endure the whispering and stares of everyone around him. When he had succeeded, he would invite the other Weasleys too. He knew that it would be wrong of him to expect Ginny to leave her family forever. Percy broke the uncomfortable silence with a change of subject. “You lot did an excellent job of salvaging materials from this mess,” Percy observed. “There’s much more here than Father had expected to recover. This means he’ll be able to add in some of the frills Mum wanted, better windows and such.” “So we won’t be trying to charm windows back together?” Harry asked. He had wondered about that as they collected the splintered wood and swept up the shattered glass. “No, not windows nor doors, either,” Percy added. “Father will order those from a wizarding carpenter. That will be less expensive than buying Muggle fittings — easier to charm, as well. The fittings are still going to be the most expensive part of this project, though. Father had to get a construction loan from Gringotts as it is.” Harry wondered if Arthur Weasley had gotten his loan before or after the Ministry decided not to contest Gringotts’ decision to seize Harry’s assets. A fresh surge of anger swelled. “What are they going to do for furniture?” Harry asked, trying to distract himself with a different topic. “What did you four do for a kitchen table and chairs?” Percy answered Harry’s question with one of his own. “Hermione transfigured them,” Harry admitted. “So there’s your answer,” Percy concluded. “My parents have a few special things they moved to Aunt Muriel’s house. Most everything else was destroyed by the Death Eaters. I’m sure Aunt Muriel — and Bill and Fleur and myself for that matter — have some things they can use. For everything else, they will transfigure enough pieces to furnish the house until they can buy the specific items they like over time. Mum wants to get back in her own house in the worst way. She’ll do whatever it takes.” Bill came out to the garden. Harry looked wildly around for some way to escape. “Wait, Harry,” Bill called. “I need to speak to you.” There was no escaping now. That did not mean that Harry was not still going to try. “Um, well, I was just…” Harry gestured in a vague direction away from The Burrow. “Come on, Harry,” Bill insisted, putting a hand on the younger wizard’s shoulder. Percy, still listing recovered materials, snickered out loud. “Look, Bill,” Harry began nervously. “I want to tell you how bad–” “Harry, you have nothing to apologize for.” Bill led a reluctant Harry back into The Burrow’s smashed-up kitchen. Harry’s three companions were sitting on the hearthstone in front of a small wood fire in the fireplace. Even though it was an early afternoon in June, Hermione was wrapped in a blanket. She was sipping on a mug containing some type of potion. Ron was watching her closely, while Ginny talked animatedly to Fleur. The French-born witch was standing between the table and the stove, pulling packages out of a basket she must have been carrying shrunken in a pocket of her robes. “Come in, ’arry,” she invited. “We weel now ’ave a good, zivilized meal.” Harry stared in shock, his gaze shifting from Fleur to Bill and back again. “How can you two even bear to stand here and talk to me, knowing that I was the one who had cost you your job, your career, you means of supporting a family?” Bill chuckled. “Harry, we understand Hufflepuff’s cup had to be destroyed in order to defeat Voldemort. We understand better than anyone else that the Goblins would never have given you the cup willingly — not with Voledemort and his Death Eaters still in the ascendant.” “’arry,” Fleur took up the account from her spot by the stove, “ze Goblins are angry wiz you because you ’ave scared zem so badly — much more zan Voldemort ever did.” Ron snorted in disbelief. Hermione put down her mug and shushed him. Bill explained. “The Goblins have always resented that Wizardkind are more adept with certain kinds of magic than they. Since the end of the Goblin Wars, they have regarded Gringotts as their own crowning achievement. It is a point of pride for them that a wizard might be able to get in, but never get out, certainly not with anything worth taking. “When Professor Quirrell — who was really Voldemort — broke into Gringotts and then escaped, albeit without the treasure he was seeking, the Goblins were furious. They strengthened the bank’s security measures and sacked a number of employees. They were certain they had perfected their protections. “Then here you three came along — three young magic users not even completely trained yet — and waltz right into the most secure levels of Gringotts’ vaults. This after Voldemort had warned them you were coming and demanded that they increase the security! As the final blow, after the defenders were fully alerted and had closed the trap, you three escaped with the item you had come to find. There is no way the Goblins can bear to accept that.” Harry considered what Bill had told him. “So, Bill,” he asked, “what can I do to make peace with the Goblins?” Bill stared at him in shock. Clearly this was not a response he had expected from Harry. “I…I honestly don’t know, Harry,” he finally responded. “If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.” Ron looked as shocked as Bill. Fleur, on the other hand, nodded her approval. Hermione was smiling proudly. Ginny’s initial expression was rebellious, but it faded quickly to thoughtful. “Still,” Ginny introduced a new subject. “What are you and Fleur going to do? You’ve lost your positions with Gringotts. Will anyone else want to hire you on after that?” “It’s nowhere near the end of the world, pixie,” Bill reassured. “There’s plenty of work for wizards and witches who know curse-breaking and security magic right now. It’s no secret why we were sacked, and everyone we’ve spoken to has been sympathetic. We have a number of offers of work. We only put off scheduling any of them until we saw how much help Mum and Dad will need here setting The Burrow to rights.” Harry felt a weight lift off his spirit. “Sort of a blessing in disguise, really,” Bill continued. “Fleur and I have been talking for months about setting up in business on our own. We’ll have to find a way to get bonded if we’re to take on any really big projects, of course, but we’ve already talked to the…George about using some of the rooms above the shop as a place to get started.” So, it seemed that Bill and Fleur and Molly — the Weasleys who had suffered materially because of their association with Harry during the war — were able to focus on the bright side of their situation. Did that mean there was a bright side to Harry’s situation on which he should be concentrating? If there was, he did not know what it could be. Well, there was the one thing, he conceded. Harry was still puzzled about that one. “Bill,” Harry asked, “why did you stampede Ginny and me into sending the response to the Malfoys the last time you were here? Ginny believes you did it because you thought I would not be willing to ask her to marry me after I found out the Goblins had taken my money.” Bill laughed out loud. Ginny blushed furiously and crossed her arms while glaring at Harry, but stepped forward to stand possessively at his side. Harry put his arm around the young witch to give her a reassuring hug. Fleur and Hermione both beamed. “Well, I’m sure that was a side benefit that Ginny appreciated,” Bill responded, “but the reason I pushed you to accept the reconciliation offer immediately was so that you would have the purebloods on your side in your upcoming battle with Gringotts.” “I don’t understand.” Harry felt as if he was doing a great deal of that recently. “Why would the purebloods care about what Gringotts does to me? I’d think many of them would be delighted to see me humiliated.” “What the Goblins have done to you, Harry, by seizing your vaults on their own initiative and not in support of a Ministry investigation or prosecution, is a threat to every Wizarding family that keeps its fortune in Gringotts. If the Goblins get away with this, who will they take a grudge against next? The one thing that Gringotts cannot survive is a revolt among their largest depositors. Those depositors are overwhelmingly old pureblood families. The way to get Gringotts at a disadvantage is–” “Ztop, Guillame,” Fleur interrupted. “Remember zat maudit Vow.” She had a look of utter distaste on her face. Harry thought about what Bill had told him for a moment before answering. “So you were trying to help me get my money back, even though you had promised not to tell me about what Gringotts had done?” “That,” Bill confirmed, “and…” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “make my pixie baby sister’s dreams come true.” Fleur snorted in a very un-Veela-like way. Ginny blushed again. Fleur prepared the seven of them the tastiest meal that the four youngsters had eaten since they arrived at The Burrow back at the beginning of the week. The potions Fleur had stirred for Hermione had quite restored her strength and energy, though she was still somewhat subdued. Percy left soon after the early supper was finished, taking his inventory of the recovered materials with him. He would return in the morning to help with the construction. The rest of the group spent another few hours tidying up the last of the damage. Bill cleared another large space in the overgrown paddock just beyond the garden. Tomorrow, the new construction materials would be laid out there. Bill and Fleur joined the quartet down at the pond for their evening dip and frolicked in the tepid water like children half their age. Fleur muttered ominously about needing to stay out of the late afternoon sun and what it would do to her blonde complexion if she permitted her skin to burn, but nonetheless transfigured herself a startlingly modern bikini swimming costume that had Ron staring at his sister-in-law as if mesmerized. “Stop that, Ron,” Hermione hissed quietly. “I can’t help it, Hermione,” Ron protested, his eyes wide with innocence. “It’s her Veela magic! I’m particularly sensitive to love magic ever since that love potion in sixth year.” Ginny snickered. Hermione looked doubtful, but did not say anything more. Instead she dragged Ron deeper into the pond and pushed him under the surface. The look she shot back at the cavorting older couple was more envious than angry. Harry knew he was staring as well, but doubted it had anything to do with Fleur’s Veela magic, more with how her slender figure filled out the scandalously low-cut top of her bikini. Guiltily, he glanced at Ginny. She was watching Bill and Fleur rather than staring daggers at him, and there was a wistful expression on her face. “What are you thinking, Ginny?” Ginny turned to face Harry. When her eyes met his, there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Were you hoping that I was thinking about asking Fleur to teach me to transfigure a bathing costume that would make wizards look at me the way you and Ron have been staring at her?” Damn. She had known exactly what Harry was doing. “N…no,” Harry stuttered, feeling the blush rise in his face. “I–” “Don’t worry, Harry,” Ginny cut him off. “I trust you to look and not touch.” She shifted her glance towards Hermione and Ron. “Actually, I think that is exactly what Hermione is thinking of asking her.” That surprised Harry. Hermione wanted to look sexy in a bathing costume? “What in Merlin’s name for?” Harry burst out. “Ron’s completely gone on her as it is!” “That doesn’t stop a witch from wanting to look sexy for her wizard, Harry,” Ginny replied. Then she changed the subject. “Fleur told me that she and Bill are trying to have a baby, now the war is over. If anyone deserves a chance at what they want, it’s Bill...and Fleur,” she added as an afterthought. Harry thought about the scars that marred Bill’s face, and the constant watch that Fleur kept on her husband for any signs of the onset of lycanthropy. Then he thought of Bill pushing the two of them to seize the opportunity to stake their claims to each other publicly. “You’re dead right about that,” Harry agreed, putting his arm around his flame-haired love. Saturday morning dawned clear and bright. Harry confirmed this for himself, because he was sitting on one of the piles of dressed stone in his boxers and tee shirt watching the sun rise over the hedge that bordered the Weasley’s property. He had not slept more than a few minutes during the night. Harry could not remember a night where he rested so poorly, even during the darkest times of the struggle against Voldemort. Today he was going to have to face Arthur Weasley again — and Molly. His stomach gave a familiar lurch. “A knut for your thoughts, Harry?” Harry jumped. Ginny was standing directly behind him, wrapped in a coverlet. He had not heard her approach. “What are you doing here?” he snapped. Harry’s black mood did not want any company. Ginny’s eyes narrowed as she assessed Harry’s foul mood. “I looked out the window and saw you sitting here,” she answered. Her voice held only the faintest thread of warning. “What have you been thinking about?” “Bill and Fleur,” Harry offered. “Hermione,” he added as an afterthought. He did not elaborate. “That is who,” Ginny pointed out, “not what.” “I got Bill and Fleur sacked from Gringotts!” Harry snarled. “Didn’t the Goblins do that, Potter?” Ginny’s eyes flashed. She moved to stand in front of Harry and crossed her arms. “If I hadn’t gone into Gringotts to get Hufflepuff’s cup, they would not have been sacked.” “If you hadn’t gone and collected Hufflepuff’s cup,” Ginny countered, “then Voldemort would still be running the Ministry. Bill and Fleur made it clear last night that they understood that completely.” Perversely, Harry resented the fact that Ginny did not appear concerned about comforting him. Why had she come out here if she was just going to torment him? “Well, I am responsible for Hermione’s situation,” Harry snapped back. If he could not establish his guilt in one area, he would try another. “If I had not let her go with me to search for the Horcruxes, then she would have left the country with her parents, and she would be happy now!” “HARRY!” Ginny raised her voice, cutting off Harry’s diatribe. “If Hermione had not gone with you on the search for the Horcruxes, do you think you could have succeeded?” Harry knew the answer to that, even if he did not want to admit it just now. He shook his head no. “If I had prepared more seriously, I would have been able to find the Horcruxes on my own.” “Don’t belittle the roles other people played in the War!” Ginny flushed with anger. “Don’t assume Hermione would have been happy if she fled. Hermione hates fighting, but she believed with all her heart and soul in the fight against Voldemort! If she had not gone with you, she would have found another way to fight. If she had run away, she would always have hated the thought that she had chosen what was easy, rather than what was right. Never let me hear you make out that other people were less committed to the War than you!” Harry was taken aback. That was not what he had meant, was it? Seeing no alternative, he decided to settle on the truth. “I’ll be seeing your Mum and Dad today, for the first time since–” Ginny needed no further explanation. “So what are you thinking, Harry?” Her tone had softened now that she was hearing the real problem. “Are you thinking that since you feel guilty about things that have happened to others, you have no right to feel angry about what has been done to you?” She stepped closer to Harry. “I was truly horrible to your father, Ginny.” “Yes, you were, Harry,” Ginny agreed, “and he deserved it.” “But Ginny, he’s your father!” Harry was shocked at her easy condemnation. “Harry, I love my father, but I am very angry with him. He made decisions he had no right to make. Those decisions hurt you. You did nothing to deserve that. He and I will make up, but right now I am angry, and you should be too. You have more right to be angry than I do.” Strengthened by her understanding and encouragement, Harry spoke about his worst fear. “I’m angry because I was humiliated in front of that crowd at Gringotts.” He sighed. “I don’t know how I can ever bear to go through that again, Ginny. I have to find some place where I won’t be ‘The Boy Who Lived.’” Instead of answering, Ginny stepped forward, straddled Harry’s legs, and sat down. She wrapped the coverlet around them both. Ginny was warm against Harry’s morning-chilled body. She snuggled close. Ginny had not bothered with a dressing gown under the coverlet. All she was wearing was a light cotton nightie. “G-Ginny,” Harry stuttered. “What are you doing?” He glanced wildly around. Weren’t Percy and Bill and Fleur going to be arriving soon? “Are you complaining, Harry?” Ginny was more than warm, she was soft and curvy in all the right places. Harry felt his body respond, and blushed furiously. He tried to shift his legs, but Ginny’s position made that impossible. Instead of letting Harry up, she gave him an evil smile. “Why, Harry,” she purred, “it’s nice to know that you care.” “Are…are you deliberately trying to make me feel uncomfortable?” Ginny leant back to stare Harry in the face, and arched her eyebrows challengingly. “Stopped feeling sorry for yourself, haven’t you?” Harry’s monster growled demandingly in his chest. “I think I need extra treatments.” Running his fingers into her hair and taking her head in his hands, he pulled Ginny’s face to his own. He captured her lips in a bruising kiss that the young witch returned passionately. Ginny used her hands to capture Harry’s head as well, and squirmed to press her body closer to his. Bill and Fleur were the first to arrive. They Apparated in only a few minutes after Harry and Ginny retired to their respective quarters to get dressed for the day’s work. Harry came out of the tent dressed in his grubby work clothes while Ron was still struggling awake. He heard the sound of furious activity in the remains of the kitchen. When he entered, Fleur and Hermione were busy sorting through the remaining supplies from both baskets as well as a large collection of additional foodstuffs that Bill and Fleur must have brought with them. Ginny and Bill were in the corner by the fireplace engaged in a spirited conversation. A few minutes later Percy arrived, bringing his own contribution to the morning feast. He reported that he had been unable to find George at the shop in Diagon Alley. Wherever George might have been the previous night, he had not returned to the rooms over the store by morning. While Fleur and Hermione unpacked additional china and cutlery, Harry took charge of the stove. He began setting up the batter for biscuits and sweet buns. There was a soft crack in the garden that brought all activity in the kitchen to a sudden halt. Harry could feel the eyes clicking around the room counting who was present and who was not. If the new arrival was not George, then it had to be either Arthur or Molly. Ginny stepped to the side and looked out through the broken wall. “It’s Mum,” she announced in clipped tones. She turned away from the doorway and stalked to the other side of the room. Harry had never seen Ginny react so coldly to a family member, even when Percy had been feuding with the rest of his family. Molly entered the devastated kitchen while Harry was placing sausages into the pan. Aside from a large handbag, her hands were empty. Surprisingly, she had not brought any supplies to the breakfast. Bill and Fleur, Percy, and Hermione all greeted her warmly. Ginny stood silent on the other side of the room. Harry stirred the pan. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” she called out as she removed her tall, pointed hat. “I came here straight from St. Mungo’s.” “Is someone hurt?” Hermione asked, alarm in her voice. Molly’s head snapped around at Hermione’s question and tone. “Hurt?” she echoed, as if expecting to find someone who needed help. After a second, she realized what Hermione was asking. “Oh, no, Hermione dear,” she smiled warmly, “I was at St. Mungo’s looking in on some young orphans in a ward there.” “Are they sick or injured?” Hermione’s interest was piqued. Molly hesitated before responding. “Well, no, I suppose you would say they are under observation.” She smiled reassuringly. At that moment, Ron sauntered in from the tent, scratching his head and yawning. He saw his mother and jumped in surprise. “Mum,” he choked out. After a moment’s thought he smiled broadly. “What’s to eat?” All eyes darted to Harry standing by the stove. Harry was acutely conscious that he was poaching on Molly Weasley’s territory — her stove in her kitchen. He shifted uncomfortably. Molly and Harry stared at each other. She looked as uncomfortable as Harry felt. Harry had been turning the sausages with his wand, now he stepped away from the stove and took off the towel he had wrapped around his waist as a makeshift apron. He held it out towards Molly. Molly came across the room, watching Harry carefully. “Harry, dear,” she asked cautiously, “are you angry with me?” Harry answered her question with one of his own. “Did you know about the plan to hide from me what Gringotts was doing?” Molly did not answer; her face reddened and she looked uncomfortable. That was enough of a response for Harry. Ginny huffed angrily. Harry handed Molly the towel without speaking and walked to the other side of the room. The silence was thunderous. Ron tried to fill the gap. “It’s great you’re here,” he threw a quick glance in Harry’s direction before deliberately changing the subject, “when you have a chance, can you take a look at Hermione’s hand?” “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, what was I thinking?” Molly exclaimed. “Sit down there, Hermione!” Giving the pan an expert stir with her wand, she crossed to the table and bent to examine the younger witch’s hand. She was muttering as she drew a selection of potions from her handbag. Harry still skulking on the other side of the room, caught only the end of her monologue, “…children having access to power beyond their wisdom.” Others heard as well. Hermione flushed. Ron spoke up, “That’s not fair, Mum,” he objected. “Hermione is the smartest witch any of us know!” Ginny’s reaction was more caustic. “Is that why you and Dad decided not to tell Harry? Because knowing what was happening with his Gringotts vaults was more power than his lack of wisdom would enable him to handle?” Molly pursed her lips fiercely but did not respond. Instead, she finished with Hermione and busied herself producing the meal. She gathered up Fleur and Ginny to help set out the breakfast, earning a scowl from Ginny in return. The wizards of all ages joined Hermione at the table. Fleur flitted back and forth like a gun-shy hummingbird, avoiding both of the other women as she poured out tea and pumpkin juice. Ginny stomped back and forth, slamming down each item as she brought it forward, muttering at her mother each time she passed. The storm finally broke while Ginny and Fleur were setting the final platters on the table. Harry did not hear what Ginny said, but Fleur flinched and Molly exploded. “How dare you!” she hissed. Everyone sitting at the table stopped what they were doing to stare. Ginny crossed her arms and glared at her Mother defiantly. “While Dad was a minor cog in the Ministry chasing down whistling teakettles and shrinking door keys, I never doubted him for a moment. He always put his family first and was proud of what he did. Now, for some reason, what Kingsley Shacklebolt wants is more important than what Harry deserves?” Molly turned red. She looked around. There was no privacy to be had anywhere. She glared at the spectators seated at the table. They all busied themselves spooning food onto their plates and passing bowls and platters to each other. The silence was deafening. Molly took Ginny by the elbow and pulled her over to the stairway and up to the landing. Molly made it to the next step to the top before she burst out. “THAT’S NOT FAIR! YOUR FATHER WAS TRYING TO PROTECT HARRY.” Bill glanced up from his plate of eggs and sausages in the direction of the stairs. “Well, they’re off!” He went back to eating. “PROTECT HARRY FROM WHAT?” Ginny was not backing down. Her voice was every bit as loud as Molly’s. “KNOWING THE TRUTH? HAVING ENOUGH INFORMATION TO AVOID BEING PUBLICALLY HUMILIATED?” Percy swallowed carefully and looked at Bill. “I confess I am conflicted. I don’t know whether the more appropriate response is to cast charms to contain the damage — or sell tickets.” Had Harry heard correctly? The others were so absorbed by the ongoing battle that they did not react to Percy’s comment. Had Percy made a joke? The two red-headed witches had caught their breath and marshalled their arguments. Molly resumed first. “ALL HARRY DID FOR THE PAST MONTH WAS LAY AROUND AND EAT AND FLY. WHY SHOULD WE EXPECT THAT HE WOULD SUDDENLY–” “HE HAD JUST FINISHED DESTROYING VOLDEMORT,” Ginny interrupted before her mother could complete the thought, “THE MOST VICIOUS DARK WIZARD OF THE PAST SIXTY YEARS. YOU DO KNOW THAT VOLDEMORT CURSED HIM WITH THE KILLING CURSE, DON’T YOU? DO YOU SUPPOSE THAT MIGHT TAKE SOMETHING OUT OF HIM?” The sarcasm dripped from Ginny’s words. Harry winced at Molly’s description of his previous lethargy. As the argument took shape, Harry felt anxious. The anxiety was quickly replaced by a strange warm feeling. He had never had anyone stand up to authority and argue for him — at least not since Minerva McGonagall stood up to Umbridge about Harry’s career choice — for certain he had never had anyone get mad enough in defending his actions to shout. “We may,” Bill offered, “witness the answer to the ancient question.” “What?” Ron looked up from stuffing his face to prompt Bill for an explanation. “What happens when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object?” Molly was not deterred by her daughter’s vehemence. She returned to her previous question. “WHY SHOULD WE HAVE EXPECTED THAT HARRY WOULD SUDDENLY TAKE IT INTO HIS HEAD TO SET OUT ON A CRUSADE TO FIX HERMIONE’S PROBLEM WITH HER FAMILY?” Ginny had her answer for that as well, “BECAUSE HE’S HARRY BLOODY POTTER, THAT’S WHY!” Fleur was shaking her head in dismay. “I do not know which of zem I agree wit more.” Molly had recovered her stride. “ALL HARRY HAD TO DO TO AVOID BEING HUMILIATED WAS STAY AT THE BURROW WHERE WE SENT YOU ALL!” There was an ominous pause while the tension built. Then the blast came, “AND WHEN DID YOU TELL US WE HAD TO STAY THERE? BETTER YET, WHEN DID YOU TELL US WHY WE SHOULD STAY THERE? WE ARE NOT CHILDREN, TO BE TOLD TO GO AWAY AND NOT DISTURB THE GROWN-UP WITCHES AND WIZARDS!” The silence that followed that assertion echoed louder than any of the previous shouts. It was obvious even to Harry that Hermione was getting more and more anxious as the argument between the two Weasley witches continued. Bill had noticed as well. He warned Hermione not to interfere. “If you go in there right now, they will each expect you to take their side of the argument. No way to come out of that to the good.” “Can’t one of you go up there and stop this.” Hermione looked back and forth from Bill to Percy. She was wringing her hands. The two wizards exchanged a meaningful glance. Neither of them moved to stand up. Again it was the older of the two red heads who explained. “Any wizard except Dad who walked up there right now would get hexed within an inch of his life — by both of them!” Bill thought for a moment. “And I’m not too sure about Dad, this time.” “How can you be so calm about this?” There were tears in Hermione’s eyes. “Because we know that despite appearances to the contrary at the moment, they both love each other more than life itself.” Bill smiled reassuringly. Fleur reached over and put her hand on her husband’s. “But the only thing that will end this argument will be Harry and Dad showing they have buried the hatchet.” Harry knew he was scowling; he was not ready to forgive Arthur Weasley for betraying him. Ron was the first one to accurately interpret the expression on Harry’s face. “Both of them will be miserable until you do, mate,” he warned. “Why?” Bill stepped in to provide this answer. Harry did not miss the look of annoyance that Ron gave his oldest brother. “Because Ginny and Mum both love you and Dad, but they both believe they have to stand up for the wizard they each have chosen. Neither one of them knows how to do something half-way. They are both cut from the same bolt of cloth, after all.” Bill turned towards his other brother. “So, what do you think, Perce, three more rounds yet to go?” “Yes, Bill. Three at least, perhaps even four.” Ron was outraged. “But you said that this would be settled when Harry made up with Dad!” Harry was shocked as well. He was not prepared for more battles like this one. Hermione, in contrast, was listening to the older boys and nodding in understanding. “I said this specific disagreement would be settled when Harry made up with Dad. The larger fight is about a much more important subject than that.” “What are you talking about, Bill?” Ron was flushed. Harry could tell that Ron suspected that Bill was taking the mickey out of him. It was Percy who answered the question. “Ginny is staking her claim to be Harry’s partner, rather than Mum’s daughter. Mum wants both of you two to remain her children. She’s not ready to give that up. It’s going to take a while.” The expression of amazement on Ron’s face matched the stunned shock in Harry’s head. How did these two understand all this? Ron leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear. “I always thought Percy was a clueless prat!” Percy smiled slightly. He had obviously overheard. Hermione glanced at Percy then leant towards Ron. “Not caring about feelings — thinking they are not important —” she whispered, “is not the same as not understanding what is going on.” Percy’s smile turned sad. He turned towards Hermione and nodded. “That’s right. I learned my lesson the hard way.” Hermione continued, “Bill and Percy are very different people, Ron, but they were both Head Boys, neither of them–” Ginny’s re-ignition cut off Hermione’s explanation. “DON’T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT GOING THERE!” Molly Weasley cleared up any doubt about the destination in her response. “BUT YOU ARE TOO YOUNG TO MARRY. IT’S NOT DECENT!” “Ah, round two,” Percy observed, “might as well get both of the current topics out of the way at one time.” “WE AREN’T MARRIED. WE’RE NOT EVEN ENGAGED. WE ARE BETROTHED. THAT IS A PERFECTLY PROPER RELATIONSHIP FOR A WIZARD AND WITCH OF OUR AGES. WHAT ARE YOU COMPLAINING ABOUT?” Whatever Molly might have suggested in reply did not make it to the ears of the party at the kitchen table. Whatever it was, it most definitely set Ginny off again, louder than ever. “I WILL NEVER SAY THAT I HAVE CHANGED MY MIND — THAT IT’S TOO SOON! ARE YOU WILLING TO HAVE PEOPLE BELIEVE YOU AND DAD CONSIDER HARRY AN UNACCEPTABLE MATCH FOR ME NOW THAT HIS MONEY IS GONE? IS THAT HOW YOU WANT THE REST OF WIZARDING BRITAIN TO THINK OF THE WEASLEYS?” “Oh,” Fleur clucked disapprovingly, “zat was — ’ow do you Eenglish say, ‘a low blow’?” Hermione was scrutinizing Fleur closely. Harry recognized that expression too. Hermione was wondering whether Fleur was laying on the accent a bit thick. Molly may or may not have gotten a response in, but Ginny was still going strong. “CAN YOU LOOK HARRY IN THE FACE AND TELL HIM THAT HE’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH? IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK OF HIM? REMEMBER, I WILL BE OF AGE IN A FEW WEEKS. AFTER THAT, YOU HAVE NO CONTROL OVER MY CHOICE.” Ginny had one last point to make: “MAYBE IF HIS FAMILY SHOWED MORE FAITH IN HIM, HARRY WOULDN’T FEEL AS IF HE MUST LEAVE WIZARDING BRITAIN IN ORDER TO HAVE A BEARABLE LIFE!” Harry’s plan to leave the country was news to several of the people around the table. They stared at Harry with questions in their eyes. Harry decided that an abrupt change of topic was his best strategy. He gave a weak smile and wave one hand in the direction of the first storey landing. “Thank Merlin she’s on my side. I’m the luckiest wizard in Britain.” It was clear Bill understood Harry was talking about Ginny, but Bill’s response was serious rather than jovial. “Ah, there’s the rub, Harry.” “What do you mean?” Harry was puzzled. “If you are going to be the husband that Ginny needs and deserves, then the day will come when you have to tell her she is wrong or give her an answer she does not like. When that happens, you have to be able to stand up to all that on your own and not give in.” Harry felt his stomach sink. Ron found the expression on Harry’s face enormously entertaining. He laughed. Ron laughed until the tears ran down his face. He laughed until the two witches returned to the kitchen, and his mother demanded to know what he found so funny. Breakfast was cleared away by the time Arthur Weasley’s voice sounded in the garden. He was directing four wizards who were transporting a huge stock of building materials into the space Bill had cleared just outside the garden. Harry hung back. Arthur, however, was looking for Harry. He called to Harry as soon as he saw him. Arthur was standing in the doorway to The Burrow, holding a roll of oversized parchments in his hand. He looked exhausted. He was thin and pale, with large circles under his eyes. Seeing Molly Weasley had been hard enough. Harry had no desire whatsoever to face Arthur Weasley. “Um,” Arthur was uncomfortable, “Harry, can I…” Harry let his memory of his anger burn away his own awkwardness. “No, thank you, Mr. Weasley,” Harry answered coldly. “I’m going to go find some work to do.” As Harry turned to walk out of the kitchen, he saw Ginny watching the two of them. Her eyes were filled with tears. She looked down at the ground and turned away. Harry felt his anger flash in her direction. How could she tell him that he had every right to be angry, and then be so unhappy that Harry and her father were not on the best of terms? Ginny had been quick enough to do battle with her mother. How was it that she had no harsh words for her father? As Harry left, Arthur walked over to the table and unrolled the parchment he was carrying. Harry could hear Arthur speaking from outside the wall. “Hermione,” he called, “Bill, can you two come take a look at these, please?” “What do you have there, Mr. Weasley?” It was Hermione’s eager voice. “Are those the plans for The Burrow?” “Yes, could you two take a look at this? It’s always a good idea to have fresh eyes check over the Arithmancy calculations before starting a project. These are particularly complex.” Harry wandered over to the paddock to inspect the newly-delivered construction materials. There were additional seasoned timbers for the structure, as well as new Muggle composite construction joists and pre-assembled roof trusses. Harry recognized the markings of a well-known Muggle DIY chain. There were pre-hung windows and doors, looking like period reproductions next to the modern structural components. There were also pallets of bags of plaster for finishing the walls. However, there were no roofing materials. Harry checked through the entire stock twice. It was a curious omission. Perhaps there was another shipment that had not yet arrived. Arthur and Bill called the rest of the family together to explain how they were going to re-lay the dry stone walls of the ground floor. The stones would be stacked in two parallel walls approximately twenty-five centimetres apart. Then the space between the walls would be filled with earth and gravel. The two walls would be tied together in the upper courses by long, flat rocks that would bridge the two walls. Similar long, flat rocks would be used to form the lintels of the doorways and widow openings. The ultimate result would be walls almost one metre thick. For these composite walls to be stable and capable of bearing the load of the upper floors, the stones in the two parallel outside walls had to be tight and stable. The stones would be reinforced with binding charms, but for best effect, the tops and bottoms of the stones needed to be relatively flat. So it was that Harry found himself casting grinding charms to smooth the most uneven of the rocks going into the outer faces of the wall construction. The work was magically draining, and the rock dust got everywhere, but it kept Harry separate from the Weasleys — all except Ginny. She came out to join Harry in grinding and moving the stone. The day was the hottest and most humid since the work had begun. Harry and Ginny became soaked with sweat, and white with rock dust. Harry was amazed at how quickly the walls were rising. Fleur and Molly worked their way around the corner of The Burrow. They were levitating and shifting the larger rocks into place up to just above waist height, filling in gaps and then laying new courses of rock on top of the restored sections of wall. The rocks were flying into place in a blur. Both women had their hair put up in scarves. Molly was red and sweating, but Fleur was merely glowing. There were many advantages to Veela genes. Molly paused to wipe her forehead, when she saw Ginny levitating another load of dressed stones closer to the wall, her long red hair frosted grey with stone dust, and plastered to her head with sweat. “Ginny,” her mother admonished, “why didn’t you put your hair up? It will take hours–” The force of Ginny’s glare cut off Molly Weasley in mid-sentence. A few minutes after Molly and Fleur moved on to work on another section of the wall; Hermione came out to check on Harry and Ginny, bearing a large pitcher of cool water and glasses. “Here, you two,” she offered, “Bill said to make certain you don’t get dehydrated.” They gladly accepted the refreshment. While the three sat and drank, Ginny twisted her hair into a knot at the back of her head. Clouds of rock dust rose around her. When she had her hair in place, she searched around as if looking for something. Hermione noticed, and picked up a small branch, transfiguring it into a hair clip. Ginny nodded her thanks when Hermione handed it to her. Harry decided to use this opportunity to get answers to the questions he had formed when inspecting the building materials. “Hermione, last night, when I was helping Percy count the salvaged materials, he told me that Muggle construction materials are more expensive than Wizarding materials–” “That’s true right now, Harry,” Hermione clarified, pushing her sweaty hair back from her face as she settled in for an enthusiastically detailed explanation, “though I don’t think it would be true in more settled times, the exchange–’ “That’s not what I’m asking about,” Harry hastened to interrupt as Ginny rolled her eyes. “What I’m curious about is why the Weasleys are using Muggle materials rather than Wizarding materials if they cost more. If anything, I would have thought they would prefer traditional Wizarding materials to begin with — well, Mrs. Weasley would have, anyway.” “Oh.” If Hermione was put out at her lecture being cut short, she gave no sign. “That’s because the construction plan requires it.” Harry glanced at Ginny, to see if she understood. She looked as bemused as he felt. “Okay, Hermione,” Harry surrendered, knowing he was getting in much deeper than he had intended, “why is that?” “The new plans are very different from the original form of The Burrow, Harry.” Hermione picked up a small stick and began to draw in the dirt. “Before everything was cut up into small rooms on different levels added on one at a time as they were needed.” That had always been obvious. Harry nodded his understanding. It did not answer his question, however. “With the new plans, we will be putting two full floors on top of the ground floor,” Hermione continued. “This will provide a great deal more room that was available previously.” “That way Mum can refuse to ever let me move out,” Ginny grumbled, “even after I have children.” Hermione smiled indulgently at her friend, but continued with her explanation. “When it’s done, with the upper floors finished in half-timbering, it will actually look like a restored Tudor farmhouse. If Muggles see it, it won’t excite anywhere near the curiosity the old place did.” Harry nodded. Ginny looked puzzled. Hermione went on. “The interior walls on the upper floors will be non-load-bearing, so the Muggle composite construction joists are needed to carry the load. They are much lighter than the oak beams in the old Burrow, the ones we are reusing as the beams for the first floor. If we tried to use those for all four sets of joists, the ground floor walls would never hold.” “I’m still surprised Mrs. Weasley is willing to use Muggle materials,” Harry contributed, recalling her reaction to Mr. Weasley’s eagerness to use Muggle surgical sutures during his time in St. Mungo’s back in fifth year. “Well, I understand she did insist on testing the materials herself, before she completed the calculations for the plans, but since the joists are made entirely with natural organic materials, the charms will hold as well with them as with the oak, and they are so much lighter.” “Wait,” Harry interjected, “Mrs. Weasley prepared the Arithmancy calculations for the construction plans?” “I was just as shocked as you, Harry,” Hermione shook her head in bemusement. “I was congratulating Mr. Weasley on his work — it’s some of the most elegant Arithmancy work I’ve ever seen, and he told me that Molly had done it all. Apparently she’s the one with the “O” on her Arithmancy N.E.W.T.” Harry shook his head in amazement. “Mr. Weasley told me that she has done all the calculations for the work he did on The Burrow over the years.” “Only a fool undertakes any kind of permanent magical construction without carefully checking that the strength and spacing of the construction charms will be adequate. Too few or too far apart and the structure will fail. If the charms are too close together, then the magical fields will interfere with each other.” Ginny was speaking, but she sounded as if she was quoting someone. “That’s what Professor Vector always said,” Hermione nodded in agreement. “I never really thought about it until I looked at those plans, though.” Harry turned to Ginny to make a comment, but her expression was stormy. He bit his tongue. Hermione had a pensive look on her face. “I just don’t understand why — with the kinds of skills she has, Mrs. Weasley didn’t go out and get a career. She passed up so many opportunities.” Hermione stood up. “It’s time for me to get back around front,” she explained. “It looks like everyone will be ready to mark off the window openings, then lay up the rest of the ground floor walls. We’ll be needing those smaller stones, now.” She took the empty pitcher and set off back around the corner. Harry immediately focused his attention on Ginny. It was obvious she was upset, but he did not understand why. “What’s the matter, luv?” “Hermione never said anything like that about my Arithmancy work!” She sounded as if she felt betrayed. “How dare she say that about Mum!” “What?” Harry was not certain what surprised him more, Ginny’s anger at Hermione or her jealousy about her mother. “It’s bad enough that she has to be the perfect domestic mother. Then she had to go and defeat Bellatrix Lestrange in single combat. Now this! How am I ever going to be my own witch if she is so perfect at everything!” “Ginny!” Harry spoke sharply to get her attention. “What am I good at, Harry?” Ginny rubbed at her eyes with the backs of her dust-covered hands. “I wasn’t good enough for anyone to want me to help them in the War.” Harry took his distraught witch in his arms. “You’re the best Quidditch Chaser I’ve ever seen play,” Harry offered. He bent down to press his own dusty forehead against hers. “You have a mean Bat-Bogey Hex.” Ginny giggled. “Look, luv, you are the most powerful, passionate witch I know. You will find your place to shine.” She stared into Harry’s eyes. He felt like he was drowning in pools of warm milk chocolate. “Will you help me, Harry?” “As long as there is room for me at your side,” he replied. With the window openings blocked out, the upper halves of the walls were laid in place even faster than the lower half. Harry and Ginny joined in moving the earth and gravel to provide the interior fill. They were packing down the mixture along part of the back wall when a loud snap announced yet another Apparating arrival. It was George. He staggered when he appeared, going down on his hands and knees. His wand fell out of his hand. “George!” Ginny shrieked. She leapt off her perch next to Harry on top of the rock wall, and ran to her brother’s side. “You’re pissed!” was her verdict a moment later. “It’s not even eleven in the morning and you’re already pissed.” George drew himself up with the closest approximation to wounded dignity that he could manage in his condition. “No,” he intoned, “I am not ‘already pissed.’ I will have you know that I am still pissed.” He drew a deep breath. “I started drinking yesterday afternoon.” Ginny was furious. “George, how can you be so irresponsible!” George looked owl-eyed at his baby sister. “I knew I needed to help with this work!” he protested. “I came here as soon as I could get away.” Harry joined them. He understood what upset Ginny here. “You can’t go around Apparating when you’re pissed, George,” he warned. “You’ll splinch yourself for certain that way!” Ron and Hermione came running around one side of The Burrow, wands drawn. It only took one look for Ron to assess the scene that greeted his eyes. “Bloody Hell! What have you been doing, George? We need to get you sorted out before Mum sees you in this condition!” Bill and Fleur came around The Burrow from the opposite direction. Bill took a single look at George, now leaning on Harry’s shoulder to hold himself upright, and came to the same conclusion Ron had. “Quick, while Percy and Dad are distracting Mum, we have to get him sobered up.” Four sobering spells of various forms whipsawed George from two directions. Only Harry’s grip on George’s shoulder kept the young wizard from falling to the ground under the impact. He shook his head, the eyes he focused on Harry were clear and aware. “That’s a different feeling,” the now-lucid young wizard observed. Then his clear eyes filled with pain. “Doesn’t feel any better, though.” “Can you handle yourself, now?” Harry asked. The pain he saw in George’s eyes was a living thing. It scared Harry in a way he had never felt before, even during the War. “Oh, yes,” George assured him. “I’m as good as I’m going to get. What can I do to help?” With the walls for the ground floor raised to the appropriate height and capped with the stone slabs, it was time to begin placing the massive oak joists that would support the floorboards of the first storey. This was the most complicated structural work they had to do, since they were going to piece around the existing bathroom and Ginny’s small bedroom. The whole structure still had to tie together. Back on the first day of cleaning up, the youngsters had pulled some of these same beams out of the wreckage and stacked them working alone, but now it took at least four witches and wizards working together to lift each one of the dark old oak beams carefully over their heads and gently position them on the walls. Harry helped with that, until the supply of salvaged beams large enough to use began to run out. Then Harry took charge of moving the newly purchased beams from the paddock outside the garden to where the installation crews could easily reach them. After a few minutes, Hermione came over to help him. They worked together in companionable silence while they moved three of the oak timbers. Before starting on the last one, Hermione sat down and examined the bandage on her hand. Harry waited patiently. He knew something was coming. “Harry,” Hermione ventured, “why do you suppose the Weasleys decided to keep the fact that Gringotts had impounded your vaults a secret from you?” Harry did not want to discuss this again, even with Hermione. “I don’t know,” he answered curtly. Unfortunately, he doubted that would end the matter. Hermione had that look in her eyes. “Harry,” she began again, “I want you to do a thought experiment for me.” “Huh?” Hermione sighed. “I want you to imagine a situation and think about how it would work out.” “What situation?” “I want you to imagine that it was the Dursleys who had kept the information about Gringotts from you. Why would they have done it?” “That’s easy enough,” Harry responded. “They would be perfectly happy for me to be humiliated. They would do anything they could to help it happen, and enjoy watching. All they’ve ever wanted where I am involved is to prove how much of a freak I am.” “And what have the Weasleys ever wanted where you were involved?” With that question, Hermione stood up and began to levitate the beam. Harry stared at Hermione in astonishment. He almost forgot to help. After they had placed the beam in position, Harry continued to stare at Hermione as she walked back to rejoin the witches and wizards on the other side of The Burrow. It was late morning when a new pair of soft cracks announced more arrivals. It was Andromeda Tonks with her grandson Teddy and Harry’s house elf, Kreacher. The witches abandoned the tasks they were engaged in to gather round the three month old baby. While they entertained him, the wizards placed the final beam to support the first floor. Once they were done, it was time to put the rough finish on the ground floor walls. Here Kreacher was a godsend. Harry discovered that house-elf magic was particularly adept at spells for the finishing tasks in construction work. The wizards watched in amazement as the diminutive, grizzled house-elf magically mixed plaster batches five times his own size then plastered the dry-stone double walls inside and out in great sweeping strokes. The plaster, together with the rubble fill in the middle of the wall, guaranteed that the house would be well insulated through the worst possible weather. With Kreacher’s help, they had finished the first day’s planned work before lunch. The witches called the wizards over to the tables and chairs they had transfigured for the noonday meal. The tables were loaded with a cold picnic and plenty to drink. Harry thought about their paltry first lunch on the previous Monday. As the others sat down to eat, Harry gravitated towards his godson. Kreacher had again taken the young wizard in hand while the witches set out the last platters of the luncheon. Harry took his godson in his arms. The infant had just finished a bottle a few minutes before. Now he was fidgeting sleepily. As Harry watched, Teddy’s hair — which had been a medium brown, a few shades light than his grandmother’s — turned a bright, vibrant red. “Look,” he called out, “he wants to be a Weasley!” Even as he was speaking, Harry wondered why Teddy had chosen to turn his hair red, instead of black. After all, it was Harry who was holding Teddy in his lap. Andromeda looked up from her discussion with Fleur and Hermione. She smiled. “Oh, Harry, he’s only three months old! His hair colour doesn’t have anything to do with who is around him.” “In any case,” Fleur added, “not all Weasley ’air is red, anymore. Right, ’ermione?” Fleur winked at Hermione, and the younger witch blushed furiously. What had they been talking about? “Well, then,” Harry responded. “What does red hair mean? Is he just trying it out?” It was Kreacher who answered. “No, Master Harry.” He took the small form out of Harry’s hands and placed it on his own bony shoulder. “For Master Teddy, red hair means,” the House-elf applied a few expert pats to the infant’s back, producing a loud belch, “gas.” That demonstration provoked a gale of laugher from the assembled red-heads. Andromeda turned her seat to face Harry and her grandson, who Kreacher had returned to Harry as soon as his discomfort had been relieved. She gave them both a tender look. “His hair began changing colour the day after he was born, Harry.” Harry recalled Remus telling him that at Shell Cottage. “But he’s still too young to understand what the presence of people around him really means. His changes are in response to internal stimuli. Give him another three months, and he’ll know you and react to you personally.” Getting to know Teddy was something Harry very much wanted to do, and it was something he had neglected so far. “So what other colours does he do?” Harry asked. Andromeda smiled again. “Well, if his hair is blue, that means his nappy’s wet. And if it’s green, then he’s very hungry.” “Does his hair ever turn black?” Ginny had asked this question, obviously picking up on Harry’s unspoken thought earlier. “Oh, dear me, yes,” Andromeda laughed, “but you don’t want to know that one!” “What is she talking about, Kreacher?” Harry knew there was one place he could always count on getting an answer. Kreacher was imperturbable. “Master Teddy’s hair black, means other time to change nappy — not wet.” This produced another general gale of laughter. Harry gazed down at Teddy sitting propped in his lap. This baby was the most wonderful miracle he had ever seen. There was no way he was going to give up his relationship with his godson. Therefore the sooner he began his arrangements, the better. “I’ve decided that I can’t stay here in Wizarding Britain — or Britain at all, most likely. I have to find some place in the world where I’m not The Boy Who Lived. But I can’t abandon Teddy either.” He asked Andromeda, “Would you consider leaving Britain with Teddy to make a home somewhere else?” The room fell perfectly quiet. With horrified clarity, Harry recognized this silence. It was the quiet before disaster strikes: that split second before the volcano erupts, or the accidentally ignited dynamite explodes. Bill was the first one to react. “Um…Harry,” he cautioned, “shouldn’t you two discuss this in private?” “No, I don’t have anything to hide from anyone.” Harry was not going to be sneaking around and hiding things from people. He had had enough of that done to him already. “What I mean, Andromeda,” Harry elaborated hastily, trying to make the offer more attractive, “is when I have set up a place for Ginny and I somewhere else, will you and Teddy come and join us?” Andromeda stared at Harry with no trace of any expression on her face. He glanced at Ginny, she looked appalled. The witch who had defended him against her own mother was shocked by what he was doing. Hermione was staring at him with both hands covering her mouth. This was not good. Finally, Andromeda spoke. “My husband and my only child are buried here, Harry.” She closed her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” When she opened her eyes she walked over to Harry. Her eyes were not on him, however, but on her grandson. “As for Teddy, he’s not leaving either.” She took Teddy out of Harry’s hands. The baby cooed happily when he recognized his grandmother. “Remus and Dora fought and died so that Teddy could live in a Death-Eater-free Britain. They could have fled and taken him with them. Merlin knows that I tried to get them to do that.” There were tears running down the older witch’s cheeks. “Or they could have stayed hidden, stayed safe, and if Voldemort had won they could have fled with Teddy then. Between Dora and Remus, they had the skills to escape even if the Death Eaters controlled the country completely and were hunting down their last enemies.” She tightened her lips and a look of steely determination possessed her face. “Instead, they fought because they rejected Voldemort and everything he stood for, and they wanted Teddy to live in a wizarding Britain that was not ruled by Voldemort. I’m not going anywhere, nor is Teddy.” The bereaved witch looked at Harry again. Her face filled with compassion. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she added softly, “I know you’ve been treated shabbily, but you’ll have to make your decision for yourself without involving Teddy or me.” Harry stood up. He heard the same dull roaring in his ears that he had heard at Gringotts earlier in the week. He looked wildly around. Everyone was staring at him. Some of the familiar faces registered shock, others matched Andromeda’s pity. Worst of all were the faces that were carefully expressionless. That look stung worse than the pity. Harry had to get away. “I…I…” he could barely form the words. “I didn’t handle that very well,” he apologized to Andromeda. “Excuse me, I have to–” Harry could not finish the sentence. Instead, he turned and ran across the garden and out towards the woods beyond the paddock. Harry stopped in the shade of the trees overlooking the far side of the pond from The Burrow. He sat down heavily, and wrapped his arms around his legs. He tried to make sense out of what he was feeling and thinking. One thing was certain. Harry was not going to abandon Teddy. He had promised Remus that he would be a good Godfather to Teddy. Sirius had tried so hard to do what he could for Harry, but all the cards had been stacked against him. Harry had no such excuse. Harry thought about what Andromeda had said about Remus. He thought about what he had seen of Remus’ life, and what he had heard about Remus’ childhood. Remus had never found a place for himself in the Wizarding world. He had never held a decent job for any length of time, nor had a place to call home, until right before the end. Whatever problems Harry had with the Wizarding world paled in comparison. Despite all of his difficulties, Remus had not given up on the Wizarding world. He had fought for years to make it a better place. Most wizards and witches had regarded him as a monster, yet he had died so that those people could have a better life. If that was the case, then how could Harry justify deciding to leave? If he wasn’t leaving, then he needed to make up with Molly and Arthur Weasley. He knew how important Ginny’s parents were to her. As he was thinking, he heard a crackling in the bushes behind him. Someone was coming. Harry spoke without turning around. “Well, I certainly cocked that up, didn’t I? I don’t suppose–” Harry stopped. He was expecting the person to be Ginny, but some instinct told him that the approaching person was not his betrothed. “Hello, Harry.” It was Arthur Weasley. “I need to talk to you, if you’ll hear me out. I asked Ginny if I could come out here first.” Harry gestured to the bank of the pond at his side, and Arthur Weasley sat down. “I was completely wrong not to tell you about what Gringotts was doing, Harry.” Arthur paused. “Even if I believed there was a plan that might stand a chance of fixing things, I should still have let you know what was going on. I should have asked you what you wanted to do. I’m so very sorry that you were so badly hurt because of my actions.” There were no excuses, no attempt to deflect responsibility in any fashion. Harry could find very little to criticize in that. Instead, he spoke about how he felt. “I’m still very angry about what happened at Gringotts,” Harry spoke slowly. “I’ve never been so badly humiliated in my life as I was, standing there.” Harry recalled his earlier conversation with Hermione. “That was the kind of treatment I expected from the Dursleys,” Harry said, “not from my wizarding family.” The wizard he was speaking to flinched visibly when Harry compared his actions to the behaviour of Harry’s relatives. “I can only imagine how that felt, Harry.” There was anguish in Mr. Weasley’s voice. Arthur ran his hands through his hair. “I know that happened because I kept the information from you.” Harry smiled sadly. “On the other hand, I’ve had some pointed lessons in the past few days about the unintended consequences of well-intended actions.” “Eh?” Harry’s comment had taken Arthur Weasley by surprise. “I never dreamed that the Goblins would punish Bill and Fleur for our invasion of Gringotts, but it should have been an obvious possibility. Bill certainly warned me how vengeful the Goblins are.” Harry closed his eyes. “Then, when we came back here, I asked Hermione to keep us from being disturbed here at The Burrow. I never imagined that she would be putting her life at risk.” “So, you mean…” Ginny’s father was still struggling with Harry’s meaning. “So, I mean that I understand that you never imagined that by hiding what Gringotts was doing, I would wind up getting publicly humiliated.” He thought about what Percy had told him. “I saw how things are at the Ministry right now,” Harry continued. “I was being self-centred demanding that my issues should take centre stage when there are so many disasters to cope with.” “That does not excuse what I did,” Arthur whispered hoarsely. He was still looking down at his hands. “No, it does not,” Harry agreed. “However, Ginny will never forgive me if I don’t make peace with her favourite Dad.” “Oh.” Arthur was at a loss for words. “Mr. Weasley,” Harry continued, “I accept your apology. I can’t say I can forget what happened, but I want to put it behind us.” Harry felt a huge weight lift off his spirit. “Harry.” Ginny’s father was searching for words. “What Gringotts has done to you is wrong. You must understand that I believe that. We do not have much leverage right now, but I will not rest until I’ve helped you get justice.” He paused for the moment. “I won’t let the Ministry rest either.” A wry smile shaped his face. “I believe I actually have some influence with that, now.” “Thank you, Mr. Weasley.” The two wizards sat side by side. The only sounds were the normal forest sounds of a summer in the Devon countryside. It was Arthur Weasley who finally spoke up. “Shall we go back? I think we have at least two witches who will be greatly relieved to know that you have had the generosity to give me another chance.” Harry recalled the morning’s confrontation and Ron’s point that both Molly and Ginny would be miserable until he and Arthur made up. “The sooner the better,” Harry agreed. The two wizards stood and strode side by side back down to the garden of The Burrow. Part way back, the two wizards met Ginny coming towards them. She needed no explanation of the sight of the two of them returning together. The young witch shrieked with delight and raced towards them, her hair flying like a scarlet banner behind her with the speed of her progress. She threw herself into Harry’s arms, tears streaming down her face. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “Thank you,” she gasped repeatedly, alternated with kisses. Harry thought there was almost nothing he wouldn’t be willing to do to get a reaction like this from his Ginny. After what were for Harry a dizzying thirty seconds, Ginny stepped back, and turned towards her father, though she did not release her hold on Harry. “You!” She shook one finger under his nose. “I am so angry with you! If you ever do anything like this again, I’ll…I’ll–” She burst into tears again and threw herself from Harry’s arms into her father’s. Arthur Weasley wrapped his sobbing daughter in his arms and kissed her hair. Harry smiled. The world felt like it was sliding back into the shape it should be in. The family was waiting expectantly when the three regained The Burrow’s garden. Ginny was still wrapped in her father’s arms. “We heard Ginny.” Ron wore a hopeful expression on his face. “She sounded happy.” Harry did not say anything at first as he walked over to Molly Weasley, who stood watching with a painful expression of mingled hope and fear. He took her hand in his. “Mrs. Weasley, I’m sorry I’ve made the past few days so difficult for everyone. I still think that it was wrong to keep the news about what the Goblins had done from me, but it was unfair to act as if it was anything other than a mistake. You and Arthur have always opened your home and your hearts to me, and I’ve been a true prat to act as if any of you meant for me to have that horrible experience.” Molly Weasley wrapped Harry in bone-crushing hug. “Oh, Harry,” she gasped, “I never imagined that anything like that could have happened. What Gringotts has done to you is a shameful disgrace.” Harry spoke to Teddy’s grandmother from the depths of Molly Weasley’s death grip. “Andromeda, I’m sorry I put you on the spot like that. I should have thought about how my question might affect you, not just what I wanted.” “Well said, Harry,” was Bill’s judgement. All the witches were mopping madly at their eyes. Harry wondered how much of that was happiness, and how much just relief that he had decided to stop behaving like a git. It was Ron who brought everyone back to practicalities. “So, mate, what are you going to do?” Harry sighed. “I know some of the things I’m not going to do.” He removed Molly Weasley’s arms from around his neck and straightened up. “I’m not going to run away and abandon Teddy.” He paused and thought for a moment. “I’m not going to live off my reputation as ‘The Boy Who Lived and killed Voldemort.’ If I’m going to avoid that, then I need to find a career that will provide a secure future for Ginny and me. To do that, I need to finish my education and sit for my N.E.W.T.s.” Harry put his arm around Ginny. “Thanks to my friends the Goblins, the only way I’m going to be able to do that now is to go back to Hogwarts and do my seventh year.” “Are you sure, Harry?” Hermione sounded both uncertain and thrilled at the same time. “If there is one thing I have learned in the past few days, it’s just how little I understand about the Wizarding world.” Harry tried to give Hermione a reassuring smile. He looked at the Weasleys. “But before I can go back to Hogwarts I must find a way to help Hermione with her parents. It looks like I’m going to need help from the rest of you to be able to make it work.” Hermione burst into tears. “Oh, you two,” Molly stepped forward and pulled both Harry and Hermione into a strangling hug this time. “You are both as dear to me as anyone born a Weasley!” She looked around at the assembled red-heads. “You’re family! We will do we can to help you find your parents, Hermione. But whatever happens, you will always have a family here.” Hermione threw her own arms around Molly, and the two witches embraced. “Harry,” Arthur called his name to draw his attention away from the witches bonding furiously next to him. “Last summer everything went south before we had a chance to talk, but now you are going to do seventh year after all.” The older wizard put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “When you pick your D.A.D.A. independent study topics, you be sure to take a specialization in wards while you have the chance.” Arthur glanced at his daughter. “A thorough knowledge of wards is essential to properly taking care of your family.” Harry felt his eyes fill with tears. He cleared his throat, but still could not form any words. Unable to do anything else, he simply nodded. “Ah-hem,” Andromeda interjected. Everyone turned towards her. She was wiping her own eyes with a handkerchief, but her face was wreathed in a smile. “This seems to be an auspicious time for me to share my own news.” She handed Teddy off to Kreacher. She stood up straight and placed her hands behind her back, like a first-year reciting before the class. “I am pleased to announce that I have been invited to assume the post of Professor of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the coming school year.” Andromeda’s announcement was greeted with enthusiastic applause and congratulations. Harry had the first question. “Are you going to live at school?” He looked towards Kreacher who was gently rocking a napping Teddy on his shoulder. “What about Teddy?” “I have been looking at cottages in Hogsmeade,” Andromeda responded. “I can’t stay in our…my old house. There are too many memories. But I can get a very good price for it in the current market. With that, I’ll be able to afford my pick of a small place for just Teddy and me — and Kreacher as well, if you’ll let him stay — I’ll have no problem running up to the school each day.” “Of course Kreacher can stay with you and Teddy, Andromeda,” Harry replied, stopping to put his hand theatrically over his mouth. “Oops, I mean Professor Tonks.” He drew himself up and assumed a tone of mock formality. “We can’t have students treating staff with improper familiarity.” This produced a general round of laughter. “Spoken in the finest tradition of innumerable Head Boys!” Percy contributed, provoking a second outbreak of laughter. “Oh Merlin, no!” Harry was horrified. “Don’t even joke about that!” Andromeda took pity on Harry, and intervened to change the subject. “Just think, Harry, if Teddy is in Hogsmeade, you’ll be able to see him on all the Hogsmeade weekends and perhaps at other times as well.” Harry’s response to that delightful news was forestalled by a large, officious-looking eagle owl that flapped in from the east. It alighted on the conjured table around which the family had gathered to eat, and thrust out its leg towards Molly Weasley. Everyone exchanged quizzical glances. Molly took the large envelope and opened it. Inside was a message on official Ministry stationary, and a second smaller envelope. “Harry,” Molly called out, “this is for you.” She held out the smaller envelope to Harry as she began to read the original message. Harry looked at the envelope she had passed him. It was much the worse for wear. The message had clearly been carried by more than one owl. It was addressed to: The Burrow Ottery St. Catchpole Devon But the address was partly concealed by hand-written notations in bright red ink: “Owl returned unable to deliver” and “Second delivery unsuccessful.” “This letter is from Kingsley,” Molly announced, holding up her own letter. “He’s asking if he may stop by and visit here on Monday.” She looked up at Harry. “He wants to talk to you, Harry.” “What does yours say, Harry?” Ron was craning his neck to peer down at the envelope in Harry’s hand. Harry broke the seal and extracted the single sheet of paper within. Dear Harry, It was signed by Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry recognized his handwriting immediately. “Blimey,” Ron exclaimed, “you know what this means, Harry?” “That I’ve done your dad a major injustice?” Harry asked. “Stop that, Harry!” Ginny insisted. “Our dad,” she shot her father a fond but exasperated look, “did not have to agree to what Kingsley Shacklebolt wanted, not if he believed it was the wrong thing to do.” She snatched the letter out of Harry’s hand. “No, Harry, this letter means that Kingsley Shacklebolt needs something from you. Otherwise, he would have invited you to the Ministry to receive his apology.” “That’s right, mate,” Ron amplified. “He wants to ask you something, and he does not want to do that in a place where others will know whether you agreed, or turned him down.” So Kingsley was the wizard responsible for Harry’s humiliation. And now he needed something from Harry? Harry felt his inner Slytherin shift and slowly uncoil. Kingsley was most definitely not family. If Kingsley wanted something, then he was going to pay. “Mrs. Weasley,” Harry looked towards the eagle owl, which was clearly waiting to carry a response, “when you answer the Minister, please tell him that I will be happy to speak with him here on Monday, if he comes to visit.” |
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