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SIYE Time:18:26 on 28th March 2024
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August Authenticity
By Jim McGuffin

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Category: Summer Jobs Challenge (2006-4)
Characters:None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 10
Summary: Harry is stuck working at the ice cream shop, where he sees several interesting customers.
Hitcount: Story Total: 4432



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
I continue my habit of writing all my stories in the same universe. Therefore this fic is in the same universe as "Red Flame."





ChapterPrinter


It was a bright and sunny morning, the sort of lazy day when most children, free from tedious school lessons, would sleep in as late as possible, then spend their afternoons having fun and keeping cool, perhaps playing in the water at the beach. But unfortunately, this was not to be for Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, or most of the other seventh year students who attended the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For their teacher there, Filius Flitwick, had required them to meet at Diagon Alley, where he would have each of them would partake in a summer job.

So far this had been a rather lousy summer for Harry, but this was nothing new as most of his summers were terrible anyway. The moment he’d set foot at his house on Privet Drive, his Uncle Vernon forced him to take a Muggle job at a fast food restaurant. Naturally he’d found this to be an unpleasant experience. He’d finally left the Dursleys and the restaurant on his seventeenth birthday when he settled at his other house on Grimmauld Place. And no sooner had Harry escaped one job did he find himself in position to have yet another one.

Harry glanced at Ron, who was standing next to him in front of the Leaky Cauldron, and hoped that this employment experience would be more enjoyable since at least his best friend would be nearby. Having just recently earned their licenses, they had both Apparated to Diagon Alley. Their other friend Hermione Granger had found a loophole that would exempt her from Professor Flitwick job assignment, namely, that she’d already been employed at Flourish and Blotts during the first half of summer. She’d told Harry and Ron that she would do homework while they were at work.

One by one, the other seventh years Apparated into Diagon Alley, followed by the teacher. The diminutive Charms professor addressed the crowd.

“Welcome, students,” he greeted them, “to Diagon Alley. It is my pleasure to allow you students this great learning opportunity. The merchants here have all agreed to offer you summer jobs.”

There were several groans from the audience, and Harry realized that he and Ron were not the only two students who were less than enthusiastic about part-time employment.

“The first thing to do,” Flitwick continued, “is to choose a job. No two of you may choose the same shop, and if you are unable to decide, I will select a job for you. By the way. only the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff seventh year students currently enrolled in N.E.W.T.-level Charms are eligible for this program here in Diagon Alley. I have decided that the Ravenclaws and Slytherins will have their jobs in Hogsmeade. Oh, and one more thing. You may choose any store in Diagon Alley except Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.”

There were more moans. Harry was sure that every single student would have chosen Fred and George’s shop had it been permitted.

“Okay then,” Justin Finch-Fletchley grinned. “I’ll take Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop.”

“What did you say?” asked Flitwick, bewildered.

“I said Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop,” Justin repeated.

“Are you saying that there is another joke shop here in Diagon Alley?”

“He’s right,” Ron piped in. “Fred and George used to go their all the time before they opened their own joke shop. That’s where they bought Filibuster’s Fireworks.”

“And you already said that I could have any store other than Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,” Justin pointed out, “so technically speaking, I’m good to work at Gambol and Japes.”

“I suppose that you’re right,” Flitwick admitted defeat.

“Wish I’d thought of Gambol and Japes,” Ron whispered to Harry.

“Now then,” Professor Flitwick continued as he wrote down Justin’s name and store on a small piece of parchment, “does anyone else wish to choose a store?”

“I want to work at Quality Quidditch Supplies,” said Zacharias Smith quickly.

“No way!” the three Gryffindor Quidditch players Harry, Ron, and Dean Thomas shouted together. But they were too late. The Charms professor assigned Zack to the sporting goods store.

“I’ll take Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions,” declared Parvati Patil. It figured that she would choose a clothing store.

“How about Eeylops Owl Emporium?” inquired Hannah Abbott. Flitwick nodded as he wrote her in for the owl store.

“That looks like an interesting store over there,” said Neville Longbottom. He headed over towards a small shop and peeked through the windows, which were filled with broken wands, lopsided scales, and other various trinkets.

“You don’t want to work there, Neville,” Ron advised him. “That’s where that git who calls himself my brother bought that book, Prefects Who Gained Power.”

“I don’t remember Fred and George being prefects,” said Neville, “but then again, I don’t remember very many things at all.”

“They weren’t,” Ron explained. “I’m talking about my other brother, Percy. And look at where that book’s brought him! He’s definitely gained power, but at what cost?”

Harry silently agreed with his friend. Percy had chosen his job over his family, and Harry wondered how much of his ambition could be attributed to reading that fateful book.

“Speaking of books,” Seamus Finnegan was pointed towards the building with address Number 18a, “I reckon I’ll work over there at Obscurus Books. They publish all of our textbooks. I bet if I work there, I’ll find all the answer keys.”

“Okay,” Flitwick wrote him down for Obscurus Books, “but I suggest you do not look for the answer keys to Charms class, since I will not be teaching out of a textbook this year at all.”

“Then I’ll work at the cauldron shop at Number 18b,” said Dean. He and Seamus were best friends, and so it was natural that they would want to work next door to each other.

Harry, Ron, and Neville still had trouble deciding on a job. Upon seeing that they needed assistance in making a choice, Flitwick helped them out.

“There are two stores which need assistance more than any of the others,” Flitwick suggested. “Indeed, these two positions have been vacant for a year now.”

Harry knew immediately to which stores the Charms professor was now referring. Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor and Ollivander’s Wand Shop had been closed ever since their respective owners vanished. He knew that most likely Fortescue and Ollivander had been murdered by Death Eaters.

“I’ll take Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Shop,” Harry volunteered. “I believe that I will be able to handle that particular vacant position.”

“Are you sure?” asked Professor Flitwick. “Unlike the other positions where the owner or a supervisor will be present, there you would be completely on your own.”

“I’ve had food service experience,” Harry reassured his teacher as he referred to the Muggle fast food job the Dursleys had made him hold in July.

“So now we all we need to fill is Ollivander’s,” said Flitwick.

“I’ll take it,” Susan Bones spoke up. “But I won’t have to make any wands, will I?”

“You will not,” Flitwick told her. “Other wizards will produce the wands, but you will sell them. It is in all likelihood the most important job of all, since now that Hogwarts is reopening, there will be many first years needing to purchase wands.”

“I understand,” said Susan.

“I’ve found a job,” Ernie Macmillan declared. He pointed over to the Daily Prophet office. “I’ve heard that letters to the editor are sent by owl to Diagon Alley.”

“Good idea,” said Flitwick. “You can assist the editors in answering them, since many people are sending in questions related to the current war. Now,” the teacher added, looking at Ron, “we need a job for you. How about the Magical Menagerie? Many first years will want to have cats or toads as pets at Hogwarts.”

Ron frowned, and Harry knew what he was thinking. Ron had been to the Magical Menagerie before, back when he still had his rat Scabbers as a pet. But Scabbers had turned out to be the Animagus form of the Death Eater Peter Pettigrew. Furthermore, it was at this particular store where Hermione had first purchased Crookshanks, a cat of which Ron was not particularly fond. So his memories of this particular store were not great at all.

“I bet you’ll have fun there, Ron,” Harry told him, “surrounded by all the animals. And besides, it’s either that or the junk shop.”

“I’ll take the Magical Menagerie,” said Ron hastily.

“Then I’ll have the junk shop,” Neville smiled, since this was the shop he’d wanted originally anyway.

“Before you begin your jobs,” Flitwick addressed the seventh years, “let me discuss compensation. You have two choices. You may choose a cash payment at the Ministry-enforced minimum wage of one Galleon per hour, or you may choose precisely double this amount in store credit at your particular shop.”

Ron’s mind worked furiously. “One Galleon a week, twenty hours a week, four weeks. That works out to eighty Galleons! I’ll take cash!” Harry knew that the sum was most likely more money than his friend had ever held at one time.

“I’ll take the store credit,” Parvati declared.

“I have one final thing to say before you start your jobs,” Flitwick announced. “I will help you settle into your jobs today, but after that I will only appear once a week in order to watch you work. This is how I will evaluate you. Please remember that your grades are at stake.”

And so Flitwick led each student, one by one, to his or her respective business. When it was Harry’s turn, the Charms teacher led him to the ice cream shop which had been closed for a full year now.

“Evanesco!” Flitwick pointed his wand at the windows so that the boards covering them up would vanish.

“Alohamora!” Harry directed his own wand at the front door so that it immediately opened. It was exhilarating to be of age and permitted to perform magic outside of school.

“Now,” Professor Flitwick explained as he showed Harry the counter, “here are the eighty-seven flavors of ice cream that you will be serving to your customers.”

“Most Muggle ice cream shops have only thirty-one flavors,” Harry commented. “How will I ever keep track of them all?”

“Well,” Flitwick pointed out, “most people will not even touch the anchovy or sardine flavors. Indeed, I do not even know why Fortescue insisted on providing such flavors. Anyway, the ice cream will magically refill itself, so all you have to do is scoop it and sell it. Do you think that you can handle it?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied. He had, of course, used a cash register back when he was working at the Muggle fast food restaurant, although that cash register worked in pounds and pence rather than Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. Furthermore, this job would be much easier due to the use of magic.

“Now let me set up your work schedule,” Flitwick continued. “Most of your hours will be in the afternoon, during the hottest part of the day, since that is when most people eat ice cream. Now I will ask a small favor of you, which you may refuse if you wish. I ask that you work thirty hours a week, instead of twenty, because the owner Fortescue is absent. This will mean that the store will only be open for those thirty hours that you work. You will still have two days off each week, although not Saturday and Sunday as these will be especially popular days for ice cream.”

“Fine,” Harry agreed. “I’ll take Thursday and Friday off.”

“That is good,” the Charms teacher told him. “You will work from noon to half past five today. And so I leave you to your work. Your four-week adventure in the ice cream business starts right now. I will see you in one week to evaluate you.”

Flitwick waved goodbye before he Disapparated. Harry decided to take some parchment and drew himself a little calendar on which he would keep inventory. The current date was Monday, the fourth of August. In exactly four weeks it would be the first of September, when the summer jobs would end and the autumn term at Hogwarts would begin. He wasn’t sure whether taking keeping track of how much ice cream he sold would be necessary since the tubs would refill themselves anyway, but since this is what he’d done back at the Muggle restaurant, he might as well do it here.

At noon Harry opened the store, and his first customers arrived to purchase ice cream. The first patron of the day turned out to be none other than Mad-Eye Moody.

“Hello, Potter,” the former Auror greeted him.

“What flavor of ice cream would you like?” Harry asked.

“Just plain vanilla,” Moody replied.

“Would you like chips -- er, sprinkles with that?”

“No,” said Moody. Then he bent his head down so that Harry was staring directly into his normal eye. “The real reason I’m here is to give you some advice.”

“Advice? But I already know how to sell ice cream,” said Harry indignantly.

“I mean advice on how you should keep a low profile.”

“I see what you mean,” Harry admitted. “Any of Voldemort’s Death Eaters could just walk in, say they want ice cream, and attack me.”

“Exactly,” said Mad-Eye Moody. “Fortunately, no one knows that you’re here except the Order and the other students in the program.”

Harry realized that Moody was right. After all, back when he was at the Muggle restaurant there was no chance of anyone recognizing him, but here there certainly was. “So all I need is a little disguise.”

No sooner had Harry said this when Moody pointed his wand at Harry’s head, and the hair grew long enough to conceal the scar.

“And your glasses will have to go as well,” Moody told him. He performed another nonverbal spell, and the glasses disappeared. “I have temporarily Transfigured your glasses into -- what’s that Muggle word for them again -- contacts, for the duration of your shift.”

“Thanks,” said Harry.

“There is a crowd gathering outside the store,” the former Auror, noticing the queue through the magical eye in the back of his head, alerted Harry. “It’s a hot day, and many of the people out there have been waiting for over a year to taste Fortescue’s frozen sweets. If any of them happen to ask where Fortescue is, just tell them the truth. We don’t know where he is, but you are only here as part of a summer assignment for Hogwarts.”

“Thanks,” Harry repeated. Had it not been for Moody, it might not have occurred to him that working at such a place would lead to some unwanted attention until it was too late.

“You must be constantly vigilant no matter where you go or what you do,” Moody reminded him. And with that, the ex-Auror Disapparated from the store.

Harry began filling orders for the people in the queue. Unlike at his Muggle job, the people in line were eager to buy some of the ice cream. He found himself scooping every few seconds as dozens of wizards and witches of all ages called out their desired flavors and toppings. As a treat, he decided to continue Fortescue’s tradition of giving out a free sundae once every half-hour.

“You mean I’ve won?” a young wizard of about five or six smiled with delight at half past noon.

“Yes,” Harry told him. “You can have one scoop of any flavor you wish.”

“Then I’ll take chocolate of course,” he said happily.

The most difficult customer of the day was a middle-aged witch who came in at a quarter of three. She was unable to decide amongst the many flavors.

“I’d like rocky road. No, I want strawberry. No, I’ve changed my mind again, and now I want vanilla. Sorry but could you make that --”

Her husband winked at Harry. “You would think she was going to buy the entire lot,” he told him.

Harry smiled, then offered the woman a sundae filled with a little of every sweet flavor he had.

At half past five, it was closing time. His hair and glasses returned to their natural position. Harry finished logging in the amount of each flavor sold, and saw that unsurprisingly no one had selected the anchovy or sardine flavors. Then he locked up the shop and Disapparated to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

“Welcome back,” Hermione greeted Harry as they arrived at the dinner table. “So how was your first day at work, Harry?”

“It was busy,” he replied, “but I survived. How about you, Ron?”

“It’s my day off,” Ron told them. “I told Flitwick that I’d take Mondays and Tuesdays off.”

“Of course you’d take the first two days off,” Hermione suppressed a grin.

“Did anyone recognize you?” asked Mad-Eye Moody, who was present at the meal. For these days, Order members occasionally stayed at Order Headquarters. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were staying at Number Twelve until the first of September.

“No,” Harry replied, “nor did anyone ask about Fortescue.”

“Good,” said Moody. “Remember, constant vigilance!”

The next day was Tuesday, and Harry arrived at the shop at noon once again. It was markedly less busy at the ice cream parlor than on Monday. Harry reasoned that Monday had been the grand re-opening and many wizards and witches had wanted Fortescue’s ice cream for the first time in a year, but now the novelty had worn off.

“What happened to Fortescue?” asked one customer, an elderly witch.

“He is still missing,” Harry replied. “I’m just filling in for him.”

“I hope he returns soon. He’s such a sweet man,” the old woman commented, although Harry had already lost hope. Death Eaters seldom showed mercy to their captives. “I’ll take a lemon ice pop,” she told him.

As Harry served his customer, he recalled the day six years earlier, his cousin Dudley’s eleventh birthday, when he’d had his first ice cream. It had been by a lucky accident that the Dursleys had allowed him to have the lemon ice pop, but he had enjoyed it.

At five o’clock Harry took inventory, noting that the two fish flavors remained untouched once again, before he Disapparated back to Number Twelve.

The next day was Wednesday, and this time Ron was scheduled to work as well. Harry didn’t have to work until noon once again, but Ron had to wake up early, much to his displeasure. So they Apparated back out to Diagon Alley separately.

When Harry opened shop, he noticed an increase in the number of customers. Many of them were parents with their children, which led him to believe that the Hogwarts letters had been sent out. Dozens of students were going to the stores in Diagon Alley to buy school supplies, and a good number of them took a break from shopping and stopped by Fortescue’s to pick up some refreshing ice cream on such a warm day.

Hannah Abbott, who was working at Eeylop’s Owl Emporium, also took a break from work to have a little ice cream. The blonde Hufflepuff prefect ordered a banana split, the first patron so far to make such an order, and the split appeared as soon as she had finished making the order.

“Here’s your banana, Hannah,” Harry handed her the ice cream.

“Thanks, Harry,” she smiled. She sat down at a stool and took a few bites from her banana split, then continued to speak. “It’s been a busy day so far today. You see, many of the students received their letters today, so they came to Diagon Alley.”

“I’ve noticed that,” Harry told Hannah.

“And you know,” she said, “with the war going on, most parents want to make sure that they can keep in contact with their children at Hogwarts, so we’ve sold more owls today than ever before. I always suggest the pueo owls, because they are the fastest owls around.”

“Good thinking,” Harry complimented her.

“But it’s tough trying to convince the parents of Muggle-borns that they should buy an owl,” Hannah pointed out. “If only we’ve had an owl at our house, maybe --”

As she trailed off, Harry realized that she was talking about her mother, who had been murdered by Death Eaters the previous year.

“There’s nothing an owl could’ve done,” said Harry quietly. “Avada Kedavra works instantly.”

“They didn’t use Avada Kedavra,” she informed him as she shed a tear. “It was Cruciatus. She was on her way home after working late at the office, and they just Apparated in and tortured her to death, just because she’s a Muggle who happened to have a witch for a daughter. Of course she had a cell phone and could have called for help, except that they don’t work around magic and wands. But an owl could’ve flown to summon help, and we may have been able to save her.”

By this time Hannah was fully crying, her tears landing in her banana split. “Of course, she would’ve looked stupid having an owl in the Muggle world, but --”

“-- it’s better to appear stupid than appear dead,” Harry finished for her.

She looked up and smiled half-heartedly. “And that’s why everyone, especially the Muggle-borns and their families, should have an owl.”

“Good point,” said Harry.

Hannah stood up, paid, and bade Harry good-bye. As the day ended at half-past five, he noted that he had sold one banana split, but still the two fishy flavors remained untouched.

When Harry Disapparated back to Number Twelve, he heard that Ron was complaining about his first day at work to Hermione.

“There were cats with their sharp claws, slimy toads, and puffskeins that wouldn’t stop shedding. And the boss, well she’s a slave driver! She just kept making me clean their cages every couple of hours!”

“Well,” said Hermione, “now you know how hard it is to have a job.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Ron retorted. “You were at Flourish and Blotts in July, and all you had to deal with were books.”

“As in the Monster Book of Monsters?” Hermione reminded him about the textbook for Hagrid’s class.

Harry shook his head and stayed out of Ron and Hermione’s argument.

The next two days were Thursday and Friday, which were Harry’s days off. He spent the days doing studying for his other classes with Hermione and the evenings listening to Ron rant about the more unpleasant events of his work day, including when his boss had made him clean an especially dirty cage belong to a newt.

On Saturday, Harry returned to work. Because it was the weekend, he was scheduled to work an eight-hour day, beginning at eleven, then taking an hour lunch at three before the second half of the day. At first he was expecting it to be less crowded because there was a slight drizzle, but there was a mob of children and their parents already queued up at the front door. He noticed that many of them appeared to be around ten or eleven and realized that now the incoming first years must have received their Hogwarts letters. And of course, children of that age would eat ice cream in any weather.

During his lunch break, Harry decided to take a little stroll around Diagon Alley. He now saw that many of the first years who had been eating at his shop earlier were now trying to squeeze their way into Ollivander’s wand shop. So he decided to enter and see how Susan Bones was faring.

“Hello, Susan,” Harry greeted her.

“Harry!” she smiled deeply. “What brings you here to Ollivander’s? Don’t you already have a wand?”

“I do,” Harry replied, “but I just wanted to see how you were doing. Flitwick said that yours would be the most important job of all.”

“I know,” she explained, “but I’m actually doing well here. My parents -- you’ve met them at the Order meeting -- are actually helping me out. They’re out collecting the wood of various trees and searching for dragons, unicorns, and other creatures whose body parts form wand cores.”

Harry nodded. Like Hannah, Susan had also lost a family member the previous year, namely Great Aunt Amelia Bones, the former Head of Magical Law Enforcement. The Bones family had been involved with the Order during the first war, and now they were helping out in the second war by making sure that wands were being manufactured and sold.

“A perfect match!” Susan said to a little girl who had made sparks come out of a wand. “Thirteen inches, phoenix feather core.”

“I’ll leave you to your work,” Harry told Susan, and he left. He continued to walk among the various stores with signs reading “Back to School Sale” in nearly every window.

The second half of the day was not as busy as the first, but still, Harry noted that more ice cream had been sold that day than any of the other three days so far. When he Disapparated home, he noticed that Ron had been already asleep, despite the sun having not yet set.

“Ron’s had another tough day,” Hermione informed him. “A bunch of cats -- he called them lions and tigers, but I’m sure they were just large cats -- kept chasing him around all day.”

The next day was Sunday, and Harry, anticipating the weekend demand, decided to arrive in time to open up the shop at ten. He would complete the required thirty hours by four, just in time for teatime. But this time it was raining outright, and hardly anyone, not even the young children, was buying ice cream.

It was late in the afternoon when one of Harry’s few customers that day arrived. It turned out to be none other than Ron.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked Ron. “I thought your shift didn’t end until five today.”

“I was sacked today,” Ron informed him.

“What happened?” Harry questioned his friend.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Come on, Ron,” Harry insisted. “I really want to know.”

Ron took a deep breath, then began his story. “You know how tomorrow and Tuesday were supposed to be my days off? Well my boss wanted me to come in anyway to feed the animals. But I didn’t want to come in since it’s my day off, so I decided to give the animals three times as much food today so that they wouldn’t be hungry again until Wednesday. But guess what? One black cat tried to eat all the food at once, and his tummy exploded! Of course my boss wasn’t too thrilled. She called me a murderer and sacked me.”

“That’s too bad,” Harry consoled him.

“Are you nuts?” asked Ron. “I’m glad to be finally free of that job. Now I can sleep in the rest of the summer, or who knows? Maybe Fred and George will let me work at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.”

“Or maybe they won’t,” Harry suppressed a grin, “now that you have a reputation as a murder.”

Ron slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Ha ha, very funny,” he said sarcastically.

“Ouch, be careful,” said Harry immediately. “That hurts.”

“But what will Hermione say when she finds out that you’ve likely earned a ‘Troll’ on your first assignment of the year in Charms?”

“We’ll worry about that after you serve me up some ice cream,” Ron replied, obviously trying to stall rather than Disapparate home and face Hermione. “This is an ice cream shop after all, isn’t it?”

“You have no job,” Harry pointed out, “so you won’t be able to pay for the ice cream.”

“But I’m your friend. Can’t you just give me some free ice cream?”

“Just because you were sacked from your job, it doesn’t mean that I should be lax on my job and just give away the ice cream,” said Harry.

“Come on, nobody will notice,” Ron insisted.

It was now four o’clock, meaning that it was time for Harry to close up shop and do inventory. Then he suddenly had an idea.

“I give away free ice cream on the hour and half hour,” he told Ron, “so I’ll give you some free ice cream, but on one condition.”

“Name it,” said Ron.

“You must take one of these two flavors on this end.” Harry was unable to stop himself from laughing this time as he pointed to the anchovy and sardine flavors.

“I’ll take this one,” Ron pointed to the sardine flavor. Harry scooped it up and placed it on a dish in front of his friend. It looked disgusting, and the smell would make a wand melt. Ron hesitated and took a small bite, then immediately spat it out.

“How’s your ice cream?” asked Harry, grinning.

“Let’s go home and tell Hermione what happened,” said Ron, who was now more than eager to leave the ice cream parlor.

“Good idea,” Harry wholeheartedly agreed, and so the two of them immediately Disapparated back to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

“Hello, Harry,” Hermione greeted her two best friends on their return home. “Ron, you’re home early. I thought you said you wouldn’t be home for another hour.”

Ron explained what had happened to him that day, but to his utter surprise, Hermione actually sided with her friend.

“Your boss has no right to make you come in on Monday and Tuesday,” she pointed out. “Professor Flitwick is the one in charge of the summer jobs assignment, not her, and he said you would only have to work twenty hours. So if he said you work Wednesday to Sunday, then she can’t overrule him.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Ron smiled, glad that Hermione was finally siding with him.

“You should complain to Professor Flitwick,” she continued, “and explain what happened. Maybe he’ll assign you another job so that you can save your grade.”

“Maybe I will do that,” said Ron, winking at Harry.

The next day was Monday again, the eleventh of August. There were now only three weeks left until the first of September. More importantly, it was time for Flitwick’s first weekly evaluation.

“Potter,” the Charms professor greeted him once he arrived at Fortescue’s at noon, “pay me no heed. Just sell the ice cream as you have been doing all last week, and I will give you your first week grade.”

The weather had improved slightly over the previous day, although a few rain clouds still lingered, so it was a somewhat busy day at the ice cream parlor.

“Very good,” Flitwick congratulated him once he had managed to fill a whole family’s order without being confused or losing track. “One more customer, and I will give you your grade.”

In came the one person Harry had least expected to see. It was none other than Ginny Weasley, who was accompanied by her mother. Ever since the end of the previous school year, when he had broken up with her, he had avoided seeing her, which had been fairly easy since he had been at the Order Headquarters while Mrs. Weasley had wanted to keep her underage daughter at the Burrow, away from the meetings.

Now he was suddenly face to face with Ginny, and he knew that he’d be unable to keep his word and not fall for her all over again. He wanted to Disapparate away, but Professor Flitwick was still standing nearby.

“Go on,” the Charms teacher urged Harry on. “Take their order.”

And so Harry had no choice but to remain and serve them their ice cream. “What flavor of ice cream would you like, Molly?”

“You know my name?” asked Molly in a surprised voice. Harry suddenly remembered that he was still wearing Moody’s disguises, with his glasses and scar hidden away.

“Of course I do,” Harry replied. “You have family members who work for the Ministry, and your red hair is rather unmistakable.”

“True,” Molly smiled, “although your voice sounds strangely familiar. Anyway, today is my daughter’s birthday, and we wanted to purchase a huge tub of ice cream for her party at the Burrow today.”

“Make sure it’s chocolate,” Ginny insisted.

“Your order will be coming soon,” he assured the two Weasleys.

Harry paused. He had forgotten, of course, that it was Ginny’s birthday. This marked the second time that summer that one of his fellow Gryffindors had come in to make a large order, as Neville and his grandmother had ordered several pounds of fish back at the Muggle restaurant on his July birthday.

He now realized that Ron, and most likely Hermione as well, would go to the Burrow tonight in order to celebrate Ginny’s birthday. But it wasn’t as if he was going to celebrate it. He knew that it was for her own good that they should remain apart.

“Fortescue keeps his large tubs in the back,” Flitwick informed Harry. “Just push it here, and then just keep on scooping. Enough chocolate ice cream will eventually appear.”

Harry obeyed his teacher. He scooped the ice cream into the tub, which was extremely large, about half as big as himself, and it took every ounce of willpower to resist the monster within and avoid staring at Ginny’s beautiful brown eyes. The two Weasleys discussed the arrangements for the party.

“Let’s count the number of guests to make sure that there’s enough ice cream,” said Molly. “There’s your brothers of course, and your sixth year classmates, and Hermione and Harry --”

“Actually, I don’t think Harry is coming,” Ginny interrupted her mother, and Harry looked up to see a hint of sadness in Ginny’s eyes.

“Why not?” asked Molly, who probably knew little about her daughter’s love life. “It would be rude of him to decline your invitation without giving a good reason.”

“I tried Flooing at Order Headquarters, but Ron said that he was at work,” said Ginny.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Ron said earlier that the Dursleys made Harry hold some sort of Muggle job. But that doesn’t mean that he can’t come after work.”

“But,” Ginny spoke slowly now, “I don’t think he’d come even if I did invite him. You see --” She immediately launched an explanation of how she and Harry had officially become a couple in May, followed by his reasons behind breaking up with him a month later.

“That’s just silly of Harry,” Molly pointed out. “Hasn’t he seen my clock, with all nine hands pointing to Mortal Peril? You-Know-Who is going to target us anyway, regardless of whether you two are together or not anyway. Your father and I eloped under the exact same situation at the start of the first war, because either of us could be killed at any time and we wanted to make the best of our limited time in this world.”

“You’re right, but you know how noble Harry is. Ron told us how both of them with Hermione are on a mission to discover the secret to defeating Voldemort once and for all, and I’d definitely like to help. Harry needs the support of all his friends now, including me.”

“I don’t want you to do anything dangerous, of course,” said Molly, “but it’s your birthday, and I just wish that for one day at least you can be truly happy and enjoy it.”

“I know, Mum,” Ginny agreed, “but I can’t be truly happy without -- without him.”

And Harry knew that he couldn’t truly be happy without Ginny either. He suddenly couldn’t stand it anymore, and he immediately wanted to set things right.

“Let me take a short break outside,” he said, and he stepped outside. Instantly Moody’s charm expired, and his true identity was revealed.

“Harry?” asked Molly. “But I thought you were at some Muggle job.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Ginny. She followed him outside in order to await his explanation.

“I don’t want you to have your party at the Burrow tonight,” said Harry simply.

“Why not?” Ginny spoke angrily. “You said that it’s too dangerous for us to be together, and now you’re trying to tell me where I can and can’t have a party? I have half a mind to --”

“The Burrow will be too small for all of your guests,” Harry interrupted. “You should have the party at Number Twelve instead.”

Ginny’s face immediately lit up. “You’re actually inviting me to your house?”

“I made a mistake back in June,” he said, “and I want to end this mistake right now.”

The two of them immediately embraced, without a care in the world that dozens of Diagon Alley shoppers were now staring at them.

“But I don’t have a present for you,” Harry admitted. Then he realized that it was half past five. “I give away free ice cream every half hour. Consider it to be your present. Now all we have to do is take your ice cream to my house.”

“It must weigh a ton,” Ginny pointed out.

Flitwick, who was watching the scene of events unfold, intervened. “They can be magically delivered to the house of your choice. But Potter, I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you only an ‘Acceptable.’ You would’ve received an ‘Outstanding’ until you decided to give away a ton of ice cream for free.”

But Harry didn’t care about the grade anymore. The girl who was standing in front of him, the girl he had almost lost forever, now she was the one who was truly outstanding.

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