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The Refiner's Fire | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General Warnings: Death, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 618 Summary: In the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter learns to come to terms with the death of Sirius. As he heals and grows emotionally, he learns how to enjoy life again. But there's a war on, and Voldemort's primary objective is to kill Harry Potter, by any means necessary. As a result, Harry and his friends have a very adventurous sixth year at Hogwarts. Canon-based with some OC. HG, RHr, RT. Hitcount: Story Total: 381569; Chapter Total: 14852 |
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DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Author notes: I say in this chapter that Harry has fought Voldemort “five times” — in case you’re wondering how I came up with that number, here’s the way I count it: 1. Harry at age 1 in Godric’s Hollow; 2. Sorceror’s Stone; 3. Chamber of Secrets (technically it was Tom Riddle, but he and Voldemort are the same person, so I figure it counts); 4. Voldemort when he regains his body in “Goblet of Fire”; and 5. in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic in “Order of the Phoenix ” — Harry didn’t actually fight Voldemort there, but the love in his heart made Voldemort leave Harry’s body when he was possessing him, so I count that as Harry’s fifth battle with him. I hope that clears up any confusion you may have about the subject. Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my beta readers Blakevich, Starfox and Pilar! You can join the Yahoo! Group for this fic at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPRef inersFire On July 31st, Harry’s 16th birthday, Casey brought not only lunch, but a small, brightly wrapped present for Harry. “What’s this?” he asked as she handed him the gift. “I thought the trip to the amusement park was my present. That was amazing enough for several birthdays!” “This is just something I saw and thought you should have,” Casey replied, her eyes twinkling. “You’ll understand why when you open it, I think. I hope you like it.” Harry turned the small package over and over, examining it from every side, then held it by his ear and shook it, prolonging the anticipation, and making Casey a bit uneasy in the process, which was all part of the fun of the whole thing, after all. Finally, he began to open the wrapping ever so slowly. He glanced up at Casey, who was obviously anxious for him to like the present, then he ripped into the paper gleefully, having teased her long enough. A maroon leatherette box appeared. He opened it and saw a beautiful pocket knife inside, with a small owl on a tree branch carved into the bone handle. “Wow! This is beautiful!” he said with a huge grin. “Thanks!” ”Oh, I’m so glad you like it!” Casey replied. “I remember you saying that you like owls, and I’ve seen you with scratches on your fingers from taking thorns off the roses you’ve given me too many times. I thought maybe you could remove the thorns with a knife more safely. Always cut away from yourself, that’s what Dad says, so you don’t cut your fingers.” Harry chuckled. Quite often, he’d seen Doug cutting something with his pocket knife, and he always had the sharp edge of the blade pointed toward his own thumb — but he never cut himself. Doug must have learned the hard way how to manage that feat. “I’ll remember. Thank you,” he said, leaning over and giving her a kiss, then sliding the knife into his pocket. Another day, another lunch. “ Harry, what do you think love is?” Casey asked. ”Why do you ask philosophical questions every lunch time?” he teased. “You know I enjoy research,” she said with a smile. “Don’t evade the question. What do you think love is?” ”There are all kinds of love, I suppose. What kind are you talking about,” he asked as he scratched Sirius’s belly. “I mean, there’s the love of a person for his pets, the love of a dog for its master, the love between friends, between parents and children, love of country. . .” “And love between two people who may be a couple?” she added with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, that too,” he agreed, blushing slightly. “Avoiding the question again, Mr. Potter?” she said in her best professorial manner. “OK. Erm. . .love. Well. . .” Harry didn’t know where to begin. He was unsure where she was going with this line of questioning, uncertain if he wanted to know what she meant, scared at the thought he actually did know what she meant. He sighed, and gave it his best shot. “I haven’t much experience with love — you know how I grew up. But I think if two people love each other, they. . .um . . . care more about the other person than themselves. If two people love each other, they want the other person to have the biggest helping of ice cream, the best seat in the theatre, the most comfortable chair. They do whatever they can to keep the one they love warm when they’re cold, to comfort them when they’re unhappy, to. . .,” he thought a moment, “to share their laughter and tears as needed. I think if someone truly loves someone else, he’d be willing to die for that person.” He paused, considering what he’d said. “Yes, that’s it. If you really love someone, you’d rather die in their place than see them hurt.” Casey was silent a few moments. “Wow. That was profound. It was deep. Wonderful, even. And I agree with it wholeheartedly. Well done, Mr. Potter! Full marks!” They laughed together and their conversation ranged over many other topics, as it usually did. “Remus,” Harry asked as they sat together in the quiet sitting room at Grimmauld Place. “Have you ever been married?” Remus looked at his godson in surprise, and then a sad look came over his prematurely lined face. “No. Why do you ask?” ”I just wondered,” Harry replied. He fidgeted with the fringe on the rug at his feet. “Have you ever been in love?” He hesitated. “I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he added hastily. “No, it’s all right. You need to ask such questions, and since I’m your godfather now, I need to answer them,” Remus responded with a smile. “Yes, Harry, I was in love. We were even engaged.” Harry leaned forward. “If you don’t mind my asking. . .what happened?” Remus rubbed his eyes and bit his lip, breathing heavily before answering. “Voldemort had her killed.” Harry sat back, appalled. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!” “It was a long time ago. She died just before your parents did, actually. I felt like I was being beaten up from every side, losing Simone, then James and Lily, then Peter, then Sirius . . . .” “Simone? That’s a pretty name.” “She was French. I met her just after we got out of Hogwarts. She was an Auror in the French Ministry of Magic sent here in an exchange program they’d started when Voldemort was increasing his power. We would’ve been married just a few weeks after she died,” he mused, his mind obviously in the past. He smiled sadly up at the boy. “James was going to be my best man.” Harry didn’t know what to say. Remus took a deep breath, then sat up straighter, shaking off the ghosts of his past. “Is there a reason for your asking?” “I, erm, I. . .I was wondering. . .” He swallowed hard. It felt as if there was a log in his throat keeping him from getting words out easily. “Wondering what?” “Um. Is it possible, you think, to be in love with someone, the ‘right one,’ when you’re only sixteen?” “James had pretty much decided Lily was the girl of his dreams when he was 15 or 16 — Lily didn’t agree with him for quite a while, but James had his eye on her early on. They were in love by the time they were halfway through their sixth year.” “So it is possible.” “It doesn’t happen often, that a . . .shall we say ‘young love’ . . . turns out to be true love. But yes, it does happen.” Remus studied the boy before him for a while before continuing. “So are you?” “Am I what?” “In love with Casey? And does she love you too?” The boy smiled shyly, then dropped his eyes to study his trainers again as the blush raced up his cheeks. “I think so, honestly. At least, I’m pretty sure I love her. She hasn’t said anything yet. But I can tell she cares about me a lot.” Remus smiled at this, then leaned toward the young man. “Harry?” “Yes?” “I’m very happy for you. She’s a lovely girl.” He grinned. “Yeah. Thanks.” “And Harry?” “Yes?” ”I think it’s time we had a little talk. . .” Remus began uncomfortably. “Um. . . When a man and woman love each other, well, even when they just like each other a lot, certain emotions and hormones can. . .um. . .” He chuckled. “Is this the ‘little wizards’ talk?” “‘Little wizards?’ That sounds like Sirius,” Remus said with a fond smile. “That’s where I got it. He gave me the ‘little wizards’ talk last year.” Running a hand through his prematurely grey hair, Remus heaved a dramatic sigh of relief. “Whew! I’m glad he did!” He laughed. “Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever have children, and suddenly I have one who’s already almost an adult. I haven’t had time to practice any parenting yet, and here I am, starting out in the middle of the ‘heavy stuff.’ It’s a daunting task, let me tell you!” “I’m trying not to be too much trouble,” Harry said with a grin, knowing Remus wasn’t truly complaining. “Well, anyway. . .do you have any questions about the ‘little wizards’ thing, or did Sirius cover it pretty well?” “Actually, I do have a question.” “OK.” “Is there any difference between witches and Muggles? In that area, I mean.” “You mean, in preventing the creation of ‘little Harrys’?” The boy’s face was absolutely scarlet. “Erm. . .yeah.” “Best prevention is to not do anything. You know that.” “Yeah, but in case. . .” “Witches can get a potion that keeps them from having babies for up to a year at a time, and they can take it before or after the . . .erm. . .event. In the Muggle world, they have some kind of potion — no, they call it ‘medicine’ — to prevent it, but, as I understand it, the young lady needs to be taking that precaution for quite a while before she . . .um. . .you know. . .for it to take effect. You do know how men protect themselves, right?” Harry was relieved, in a way, that Remus was nearly as uncomfortable with this talk as he was. “Yes.” “It’s important for you to know that no one method is foolproof, not Muggle methods anyway. Using the man’s and woman’s methods together is best, but even then, mistakes happen. The potions witches use work just fine, as far as I know. But still, doing nothing is safest in every respect.” “I know. I’m trying to keep it that way. I just wanted to know. Thanks, Remus.” Remus heaved a big sigh. “I honestly never thought I’d have a father-son talk with anyone. How’d I do?” “You were brilliant!” Harry said with a grin. “You should know, Harry — Muggles are more, erm, straight-laced than wizards are. They take life much more seriously than we do. If you do make the choice to follow your feelings with Casey, her parents. . .” “Yeah, I thought of that. I don’t want to hurt anyone. And I think Professor Dumbledore would be very disappointed in me if I got her in trouble.” “Actually, I would too,” Remus said seriously. “You need to consider that.” “I know.” “I trust you to choose wisely most of the time, Harry,” Remus said, patting his godson on the knee. “You’ll be fine as long as you keep your head.” “Yeah, that’s what I’m having trouble with,” the young man laughed. “That’s usually where the trouble starts. Be careful.” “I will. Thanks.” Late the next Friday evening, Harry and Casey were walking home from the cinema. They’d been to see a science-fiction film with lots of special effects, and were happily discussing that aspect of the film. “The monsters were so scary!” Casey said with a shiver. “I had to remind myself it was a film!” “Yeah, they were cool, weren’t they?” Harry said with a grin. “And when you’re scared, you snuggle up against me so nicely. I love scary movies for that very reason!” He laughed, gazing down into her eyes. “Yeah, that’s pretty much why I agree to go to them. Gives me a good excuse,” she teased. She stopped, smiling up at him and sliding her arms around his neck. “I’ve really enjoyed this evening, Harry.” He smiled fondly at her. “You sound as though you’re saying goodnight and we’re still several streets from your house.” “I’ll take as many chances as possible at getting goodnight kisses out of you — and I’ll take as many goodnight kisses as you can dish out!” she murmured as she stood on tiptoe to kiss his chin, all she was able to reach unless he bent down. “If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get,” he grinned and leaned down to kiss her. A few moments later, when they broke the kiss, Casey buried her face in his neck and said, ever so quietly, “I love you, Harry.” He stood absolutely still, hoping he’d heard what he thought he’d heard, but afraid to hope at the same time. “Erm. . .excuse me?” he said as he pushed her back so he could see her face. Pink with embarrassment, Casey glanced up at him warily, saw the hope in his eyes, then said in a stronger voice, “I love you, Harry Potter.” His face was a study in delight and amazement. “You do? Honestly?” She nodded, a smile spreading across her face at his reaction. Harry’s face stilled and he quieted, hesitating long enough for Casey to start looking uncomfortable, then his words came out in a rush. “I’ve loved you for ages. I was afraid to tell you. I didn’t want to rush you,” he said breathlessly. “I love you, Casey.” He pulled her to him in a tight embrace, elation racing through his body. He leaned down to kiss her, seeing his joy reflected in her eyes. They kissed, and as the kiss deepened, they wrapped their arms around each other as if they’d never let go. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stood up, and he straightened, listening, sensing his surroundings. Casey shivered. “Why is it so cold all of a sudden?” she said. “Brrrr.” She snuggled against him, but instead of him wrapping her warmly in his arms as she expected, he pushed her roughly back against the wall beside them, and turned his back on her. “Stay there, and stay quiet,” he warned in a scarily serious voice she’d never heard from him. “Whatever you do, don’t open your mouth.” “What?” She was completely baffled by his behaviour. She noticed he had his stick in his hand. He always had it nearby, saying it was just a trinket that had belonged to his parents. But now it was in his hand and he looked as if he planned to use it somehow. The street darkened quickly, to the point where they couldn’t see their hands in front of their faces. “Harry, what’s going on?” “You must stay quiet. Hold on tightly to me, wrap your hands around my belt and no matter what happens, don’t let go. I’ll take care of you. Close your eyes and your mouth. I’m serious.” “What. . .?” “Shhh!” he insisted. She felt him back into her, pressing her against the wall even more firmly. He reached around to make sure she was fully hidden behind him. She leaned around his arm to see what he was looking at, and he pushed her back. She couldn’t see anything but blackness, but suddenly she felt as if she’d never be happy again. She hadn’t a clue what was wrong, but Harry seemed to know what was going on, and what to do. She clutched at the back of Harry’s shirt, hiding her face in his back, trembling with an unnamed fear. She’d just have to trust him. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry cried, and a tremendous silver stag leaped out of his wand tip, racing toward the Dementors. A second huge group of Dementors came at them from the other end of the street. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry commanded again, and another stag, bigger than the first, leapt forward to attack the oncoming threat. Casey peered nervously around Harry, wondering what he was doing, and saw two huge silvery stags tossing their antlers, looking as if they were attacking something, but not each other. The violence of their attacks at what appeared to be nothing unnerved her, and she squeaked as she stifled a scream, remembering Harry had said to be completely quiet. Some of the Dementors apparently heard Casey’s small noise and circled around the stags, coming swiftly toward Harry and Casey. “EXPECTO PATRONUM!” he called once again. Now three stags, each at least twenty feet high, were tossing around the three hundred or more Dementors who had massed themselves shoulder to shoulder, trying to get to Harry and Casey. The stags drove the Dementors away and chased after them, disappearing around curves in the road in both directions. With varying cracking sounds, a group of people appeared on the road before them where the Dementors had just been. Harry stiffened, seeming more wary of them than of the creatures who’d just tried to attack. “Mr. Potter,” one of the people began, “we meet again.” It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror Harry knew from the Order, as well as from the confrontation with Dolores Umbridge at Hogwarts not that long ago. “Hello,” Harry began cautiously. There were friends, enemies and unknowns in this group of Aurors. He had to be very careful. “What just happened here, Mr. Potter?” Shacklebolt said. “There were Dementors. Hundreds of them, completely surrounding us,” Harry answered truthfully. “And you did three Patronus charms in a row to fight them?” Tonks asked incredulously. “Yes, three. I thought there were too many for just one to deal with.” “Those were some very powerful Patroni, Mr. Potter,” Shacklebolt said admiringly. “Each one went off the charts on our detectors.” Harry was amazed. “They did?” “Yes. So you can imagine how keen we were to see how an underage wizard like yourself managed such a feat,” sneered one of the Aurors Harry didn’t know. “I had to protect myself,” Harry replied. “Yes, yes, we know that. How did you manage such large ones, and three in close succession at that?” insisted the unknown Auror. “That’s enough, Bainbridge,” Shacklbolt warned. “We all know Harry Potter’s reputation. I’m amazed at what I saw, but not that surprised.” “Come out of there, girl,” one of the other Aurors commanded Casey. She held tightly to Harry’s shirt but started to peer around his shoulder. “No,” said Harry, pushing her behind him again. “She’s staying where she is.” “She’s a Muggle, Potter. We need to Obliviate her.” At the sound of these words, Casey let out a small moan and buried her face in the back of Harry’s shirt again. “You will leave her alone,” Harry said in a voice ringing with authority. They would not get to Casey, no way. They’d have to go through him first, and he wasn’t budging. “Who are you to tell us what to do, you young brat?” sneered the aggressive Auror. “Shut up, Claypoole,” Shacklebolt commanded. “Potter may be young, but I don’t think you’d really like to duel with him.” Kingsley must have realized he sounded too familiar with Harry, because he went on, “I’ve heard he’s close to being a duelling master already. You, as I recall, are not so brilliant at duelling. And by the way, which of the two of you has faced Lord Voldemort five times, with him intent on murdering you, mind, and lived to tell the tale?” Claypoole subsided, but then spat out, “She needs her memory altered. She’s seen us, she’s seen what Potter can do. . .” Shacklebolt sighed, and turned to Harry. “He has a point, Potter. Get the girl out here.” “NO! Professor Dumbledore said I could tell her I’m a wizard when the time was right. The time is right now, and if you’ll all please leave, I’ll get on with it!” Harry held his wand out threateningly, and was amazed that his hand didn’t shake at all despite his facing a large group of professional, experienced Aurors, only a few of whom were friends of his. Bringing Dumbledore’s name into the situation changed the attitude of the assembled Aurors. “You have permission?” Tonks said. “Yes. You can ask him yourself.” Tonks looked around at the other Aurors. “I’ll just go and do that then, shall I? Then this matter can be cleared up and we can worry about where those Dementors went.” She Disapparated with a loud pop. “This task doesn’t require all of us. Tonks and I will take care of this situation and the rest of you go find those Dementors,” Shacklebolt said. Some of the Aurors Disapparated, while others just ran in the direction the Dementors had gone. “OK, Harry, it’s just us. Do you honestly have that permission from Albus?” “Yes!” Harry insisted. “Then go ahead and talk with your young lady. If it goes badly, I’ll be here to take care of things.” “It won’t go badly,” Harry insisted, hoping he was right. “Good luck. I’ll wait over here for Tonks,” Kingsley said, then moved to the other side of the street and leaned against a building, his stance casual, but his eyes watching sharply for more trouble. Harry breathed deeply, relaxing for the first time in several long minutes. He pocketed his wand as he turned to face Casey. “Are you all right?” Casey mouthed soundlessly, unable to come up with a coherent thought. Finally, she gasped and said, “What.. .what happened?” Once the questions started, they came tumbling out in a panicked flood. “And who were those people? And where did those stags come from, what were they made of? What were they fighting — I couldn’t see anything! That stick isn’t just a keepsake from your parents, is it? How did you do that? What were those people talking about, ‘obliviating’ me?” Harry tried to embrace her, but she shoved him back impatiently. “Answer me!” He sighed. He’d thought many times about how he’d tell her he was a wizard and explain his world to her, but he’d never thought he’d have to do it under such stressful conditions, and with an Auror watching from across the street, even if that Auror was a friend. “Casey. Those people and I. . .we’re all wizards - well, except for Tonks, she’s a witch. Magic is real. This stick is my magic wand. The things the stags were fighting were Dementors. You couldn’t see them because you’re not a witch. They were the reason it got so dark and cold. They make you feel as if you’ll never be happy again.” He watched her face and saw her nod in astonished understanding, her gold-flecked green eyes huge in her face. “Yes, exactly. I thought I’d never be happy again,” she said in an awe-struck voice. “They suck the happiness out of people. That’s how they feed; they feed off our joy and good feelings. The stags were guardians I produced with a Patronus charm — three charms, three Patroni. The people are Aurors — I told you I wanted to be a detective when I grow up. In the wizarding world, Aurors are the detectives. I want to be an Auror. And as for obliviating you — that means altering your memory so you won’t remember any of this, or that I’m a wizard. I have permission from my headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, to tell you I’m a wizard. They won’t obliviate you. I won’t allow it.” Casey swallowed hard, trying to take in all he was telling her. After a few moment’s thought, she said, “You. . . won’t. . . allow it? You’re a student! That makes you nothing to people like them! Why should they listen to you? And what do you mean, you’re a wizard, and that woman’s a witch? What do you mean? ” Harry took a deep breath and blew it out, not happy with how he was going to have to answer this question. I mean exactly what I said. Magic exists. I’m a wizard, Tonks is a witch. And these people listen to me because . . . .” He sighed and scratched his head, wondering how best to approach this explanation. “Erm. . .when we first met, I told Patricia I was ‘the famous Harry Potter,’ remember? I AM ‘the famous Harry Potter.’” He shook his head, not believing he was going to use his fame to help convince her of the truthfulness of his story. “The Aurors listen to me because I am Harry Potter. If this same thing had happened with another wizard my age, he would probably be talking to an Obliviated girlfriend by now, and would also be in trouble with the Ministry of Magic for performing underage magic.” He studied her face before going on. “I didn’t ask to be famous. Most of what I’ve told you about myself is true. I left out a few details here and there to keep from revealing the wizarding world to you and your family.” “Such as?” “Such as what?” “Details, Harry.” “Oh. Well. . .” He wasn’t quite where to start. Casey saw his confusion. “Why are you famous? Start there.” Harry sighed, straightened his shoulders as if bracing for a blow, and then said, “I’m famous because I’m ‘The Boy Who Lived.’ My parents were murdered by Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard of the age. He tried to murder me as well, but somehow his spell bounced off me and hit him, making him lose his powers and his body. It took him thirteen years to recover, but he’s back now, and killing me is at the top of his list. I’m ‘the one that got away,’ you see. When he fell, it broke the hold he’d had on the wizarding world for many years, and the good people of our world celebrated for a long time. They told their children stories about ‘little Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.’” He stood very still, watching her reaction. Casey was trembling visibly now, her eyes wide. “That’s who they said you faced five times and lived to tell about it.” “Yes.” “You’ve just turned sixteen, and you’ve fought an evil wizard five times already? How is that possible?” Harry shrugged. “Just lucky, I suppose.” He tried to give her his crooked grin, but he was too nervous about how she was taking this news to manage it. “Lucky? LUCKY? You have a maniac trying to kill you, and you’ve had to actually fight him five times while you’re still a child, and you say you’re lucky?” “I’m still here,” he said with a shrug. What else could he say? “Are you in danger here?” she asked, looking nervously around. “I’m as safe here as anywhere, I suppose. There are spells on this area to keep me safe. The fact that the Dementors came here means someone sent them on purpose. But you can see they have Aurors watching over me. If I couldn’t have handled the Dementors myself, they would’ve been here to help pretty soon.” He was trying to reassure her, but he realized he wasn’t really safe anywhere, and she might as well know that up front. Her face was very pale, her eyes huge and staring as she tried to make sense of all he’d told her. “Are you OK?” Harry asked in concern. “I’m . . .I’m . . .I don’t know.” “Here, sit down. It is rather a lot to take in,” he said as he tenderly helped her sit on a nearby garden wall, and then pulled out two chocolate bars. “Eat this, it will help. Honestly, it will,” he insisted as he unwrapped one and put it in her hand, then unwrapped the other for himself. “Why aren’t these melted? It’s been so hot, and they were in your pocket. . .” “I kept a cooling charm on them so they wouldn’t get all messy,” he said matter-of-factly. “A cooling charm?” “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “What’s a cooling charm?” “A magic spell that keeps things cool.” He couldn’t think of any better way to explain it. “Like a cooler in your pocket?” “I guess you could say that.” “Does it make you cold?” she said, trying to understand, her face perplexed as she touched nervous fingers to the outside of the pocket from which he’d pulled the chocolate. He laughed. “No, I put the charm on the sweets, not on my pocket. It would make me cold if I put the charm on my pocket.” “This is all just so hard to believe,” she said, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s what I thought when I first heard it, but it’s the truth,” he said simply. “Eat your chocolate. It really will make you feel better.” He watched her bite into the chocolate, bit into his own chocolate bar, then breathed a sigh of relief as colour came back to her face. The chocolate was obviously doing its job. “Better?” he asked. She nodded. “OK, then. I’ll tell you everything, anything you want to know. There is one catch,” he added. “A catch?” “Yes. You cannot tell anyone, not your parents, Patricia, your best friends, strangers, anyone at all that I’m a wizard and that the wizarding world exists, that magic is real — you can’t tell. It will endanger all of us, and you’ll be Obliviated.” She thought about it a moment, making as careful a decision as she could. ”OK, I won’t tell,” she agreed. “Casey, I’m still the same person you’ve gone out with all summer. I’m just Harry. But I’m just Harry with a few more. . .talents. . .than you thought.” “Is that what Remus meant when he said you were talented? Something about magic?” she asked. “Yes. Apparently I’m a rather powerful wizard. I don’t take any credit for it. I’ve been lucky a lot of times, and help shows up when I need it, but still — I’m told very few students and not many grown wizards can conjure a corporeal Patronus. Conjuring them takes a lot of power, a very strong happy thought, and I just made three absolutely huge ones.” He was amazed himself at what he’d done. “You know why that is?” “Sorry. Haven’t a clue.” “To create a Patronus, you have to hold on to a really happy thought as you do the spell. All I could think of was you. You make me so happy. That’s why I was able to do three of them, and with such power.” Harry gently stroked her cheek with one finger, noticing the tear sliding down her face. “Casey? What’s wrong?” “I don’t know,” she said as she sniffed, trying to stop the tears that were beginning to flood her eyes. “I guess. . .I thought I was in love with sweet, neglected, abused, precious, wonderful Harry Potter. Instead, it seems you’re like. . .a prince or something. It’s sort of unnerving.” Harry sat back in shock. “A prince?” “Well, somebody really famous, powerful, you know.” It took Harry a while to reply. “Does it make a difference to you?” he said uncomfortably. “I don’t know. It shouldn’t. But you’re right - it’s a lot to take in.” She chuckled, a sad sound behind it. She wiped her face and drew a deep, shuddering breath, calming herself. “May I. . .may I see your magic wand?” “In certain contexts, that could be considered quite suggestive,” Harry teased, trying to get a laugh out of her. He quickly gave up trying to amuse her. “. Here.” She took the wand in her hand wonderingly. “How do you make it work?” “It concentrates the magic in the wizard’s body, and directs it. It has a magical core. Mine has a phoenix tail feather. There are lots of variations in wood, core material, length and so forth. The wand chooses the wizard. It takes a powerful wizard to be able to perform magic properly with someone else’s wand.” “Can you do that?” “I have a few times, but it’s much easier with my own wand. Other wands don’t feel right. This one,” he smiled, “when I hold it, I feel. . .complete. I can’t explain it any better.” “You said a phoenix tail feather? Phoenixes are real too?” she said, her eyes widening as she realized what she was saying. “Oh, yeah! They’re brilliant. This tail feather came from my headmaster’s phoenix, Fawkes.” “And does he burn up and get reborn from the ashes?” “Yes, and his tears have healing powers, and he can carry very heavy loads. He’s fantastic. His song makes me feel. . .I don’t know, it’s just very uplifting somehow. They’re very rare, phoenixes. I wish I could have one someday.” “Why can’t you? Can’t you just go and buy one somewhere?” she said, giggling nervously. She was beginning to wonder if one or both of them were just a wee bit crazy. “No, you can’t buy phoenixes. They choose wizards, usually when he or she is a teenager. It doesn’t happen often. Fawkes is the only phoenix I know about right now. They disappear somewhere, and just join a wizard when they feel like it. Nobody really understands them. They’re very mysterious.” She pondered this information for a while, then said, “So if phoenixes are real, what else is real that we think is imaginary?” “Unicorns, Centaurs, dragons, trolls, fairies . . . loads of things,” he assured her. “No way,” she said, shaking her head. “They can’t be real, no way.” “I’ve seen all of them, honest! Centaurs are arrogant. They think humans are beneath them. They study the stars all the time. They use bows and arrows to fight, as well as their hooves. They call human children ‘foals.’ Unicorns are unbelievably beautiful. The foals are born gold and don’t turn silver until they’re older. My friend Ron’s wand has a unicorn tail hair as its magical core. I had to fight a dragon my fourth year as part of a tournament. There are lots of different kinds of dragons. I could show you a model of the Hungarian Horntail I fought. She was a nasty thing — she could kill you with the horns on her tail or with the flames from her mouth equally well. ” “You . . .fought a dragon?” “Well, I outflew it, really. I flew all around it to get it dizzy, because I had to steal a golden egg from her that was a clue to the next task in the tournament.” “You out. . .flew?” “On my broom. I love to fly. I play Quidditch, that’s our sport. It’s kind of like soccer on broomsticks, but it’s a lot more violent. It’s brilliant!” he said with a grin. “You ride a broom?” Her eyes were huge with disbelief. His stories were getting wilder and more unbelievable the longer he talked. . .but then again, something had made her feel as if she’d never be happy again, and he’d made silver stags come out of his stick — wand — so he must be telling the truth, right? “I ride a Firebolt. That’s an international quality racing broom. The Irish National Quidditch team used them in the Quidditch World Cup a couple of years ago. It was a gift from my godfather Sirius.” He knew he was getting her confused, but he didn’t know how to answer her questions without giving her the details that proved he was telling the truth. His face furrowed in concern as he watched her trying to understand what he was saying. Casey shook her head as if she was woozy. “Too much information, eh? I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out timidly to touch her cheek. “Are you OK?” “Dizzy with information right now, I suppose,” she replied, a nervous grin tickling her mouth. She sighed, shaking her head and trying to get back on a logical track. “OK, let’s stop talking about things I can’t see,” she said briskly. “About your wand. . .” “Yes?” “If it’s a real magic wand, can I do magic with it?” she asked. “No. You’re a Muggle.” “I’m a what?” “A Muggle. That’s what we call non-magic folks.” “Oh. Sounds a bit rude,” she said with a nervous giggle. “Sorry. I didn’t invent the term, that’s just what wizard folks call non-magical folks.” She’d been sliding the wand through her fingers as they’d talked. It just felt like a stick with a handle, with nothing ‘powerful’ about it at all. “How do you make this work?” “Give it a wave,” Harry said. “See what happens.” She waved the wand in a variety of ways, her gestures getting larger and larger. Nothing happened. “It doesn’t work.” “I won’t say I told you so,” said Harry, giving Casey his cheekiest grin. “Here, let me.” He took the wand in his hand, barely moved it, muttered something, and multicoloured butterflies came out of the end, fluttering around Casey’s head, sparkling in the street lamps like gems. Casey’s face was filled with delight. “They’re beautiful! Are they really alive?” “They are until I make them go away,” he said with a flick of his wrist, and the butterflies disappeared. “Do something else!” “Technically, I’m not supposed to do magic in front of Muggles at all, or even outside school until I’m seventeen. I’m underage, but since I’m in danger from Voldemort and his followers, my headmaster has got me a special dispensation to do magic for self-defence. As that Auror is watching us right now, it’s OK for me to do this little bit, but I can’t just play with it here. Wish I could. But there are too many Muggles about. Somebody could see.” Casey was disappointed. “Oh. OK. I understand.” “Tell you what,” he said, excited by the idea he’d just had. “You can come with me to visit the Weasleys and you’ll see magic everywhere. They won’t mind, I’m sure.” “You mean Ron, Ginny, Hermione — all those people you’ve told me about — they’re all Wizards and witches?” “Yup.” “Wow. And the Weasleys would be willing for me to go and visit them?” “Yes, I’m sure they’ll agree. They’ve heard all about you.” “That would be great!” Tonks reappeared with a loud pop, waved merrily at Harry, then walked over to Kingsley. They conferred a moment, then Kingsley cleared his throat noisily. “Ahem. Harry?” he called quietly across the street. “Yes?” “It looks like everything’s OK with her now — am I right?” “Yes, we’re fine.” “OK, go home then. It’s late. I’ll take care of things at this end. Be careful out here, Harry. Nice butterflies,” he added with a smile. “Thanks! Bye! Bye, Tonks!” “Bye, Harry. Take care!” Tonks called. Harry and Casey headed toward her house, quietly discussing the evening’s events and the world of magic. As he kissed her goodnight at her door, she gazed into his eyes. “I always knew there was something different about you,” she murmured. “You did?” “Yes,” she said, cupping his face in her hand. “You are magical in so many ways, Harry.” He leaned down to kiss her again. “I love you, Casey,” he murmured as he held her close to him. “I love you too.” Harry nearly skipped home, he was so happy. She knew about him being a wizard and she still loved him. What a wonderful girl! “Three hundred Dementors? They were probably the Azkaban guards,” Dumbledore commented during the Order of the Phoenix meeting. “We’ve had no word of where they’ve been since Voldemort called them away from Azkaban. Somebody sent them to find Harry. We need to guard him more closely, and find out who’s been passing along information.” “The boy did three absolutely huge Patronus charms, one after the other, and showed no ill effects at all after doing them,” Shacklebolt reported. “He didn’t even need chocolate. He had some and shared it with his girlfriend, but Harry himself seemed to be just fine. When we got there, he was ready and willing to take all of us on,” he added with a chuckle. “And I think he might have won!” “His powers are increasing at an amazing rate,” Dumbledore murmured. “We must keep him safe until he reaches his full potential.” Harry sent Hedwig with a note to the Weasleys asking if he could bring his girlfriend to visit them so she could meet a wizard family and see what things were like in a magical household. He’d told Ron a good bit about his developing relationship with Casey, and the Weasleys had already heard that Dumbledore had given permission for Harry to tell her he was a wizard. They agreed to the visit readily and the details were quickly arranged. That Sunday, Harry and Casey went to Mrs. Figg’s house to use her fireplace to get to The Burrow. Remus was going to meet them there, as was Hermione. “Is Mrs. Figg a witch?” Casey asked in a whisper as they approached the door. “She’s a squib. That means she’s from a magical family but for some reason she isn’t magical herself. She can do some magical things — she can see Dementors, for instance, where you couldn’t. She was my babysitter when I was little. The Dursleys don’t know she’s magical or they would have never allowed it. I didn’t know she was magical until last year.” Harry knocked on the door and Mrs. Figg soon answered it. “Harry! How nice to see you! And this must be Casey,” she said, extending a friendly hand to the girl. “So nice to meet you, my dear. I’ve geard lovely things about you from Harry. Do come in.” “Thanks for letting us use your fireplace, Mrs. Figg,” Harry said as they entered the sitting room. “Oh, Harry, anytime you need it, you know my door is always open for you,” Mrs. Figg answered graciously. Harry and Casey stood before the small fireplace, the canister of Floo powder in Harry’s hand. “Um, Harry?” Casey began hesitantly. “Yes?” “We’re too big for that fireplace. And won’t we get dirty?” “The fireplace will expand to fit us once I throw some Floo powder in. I’ll do a cleansing charm on us when we arrive. We’ll get a bit sooty, but it’s a fast, cheap way to travel, and Muggles can’t see us use it. Since you’re a Muggle, I’ll have to hold you in my arms so you can travel through it — that’s the way parents do it with children. You’ll want to close your eyes and hold on to me as tight as you can. You’ll probably get dizzy because we’ll be spinning around as we travel. Keep your eyes and mouth closed so you don’t get soot in them,” Harry explained calmly. He took her hand and led her onto the hearth itself. She was trembling. “Are you ready?” he asked gently. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said shakily. “I was afraid the first time too,” he assured her. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” He pointed his wand at the fireplace and said “Incendio,” starting a small fire. Then he tossed some Floo powder into the firebox and green flames emerged as the fireplace magically grew large enough for them to stand in. “Come on, it won’t hurt, honestly.” “Are you sure?” “You’re safe with me, Casey, I promise.” She let him lead her into the fireplace, where she was surprised to find the flames just warm and tickling her legs a bit. Harry lifted Casey into his arms. Casey wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and her legs around his waist, as he pulled her face into his shoulder to protect her from as much soot as possible. He grasped the length of her hair tightly in his hand to keep it from flying around as they spun, then said, “The Burrow” in a firm voice and they began spinning rapidly. They soon arrived at The Burrow’s fireplace, where Harry stepped out of the fireplace and set Casey down. She stumbled a bit from dizziness. Harry performed a cleansing charm on them as Mrs. Weasley noticed their arrival. “Harry, dear! How wonderful to see you!” she said with great plea. “And this must be your Casey? Very nice to meet you, dear.” “Casey, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, smiling at each of them in turn. “Hello. Thank you for letting me come and visit you,” Casey said graciously. As she glanced around, Casey became uneasy. Mrs. Weasley appeared to live in a ruin of a house, with huge holes in the walls, half the roof gone, and no furniture. Harry noticed the odd look in her eyes. “What do you see, Casey?” he asked, an amused gleam in his eye. “Um. . .sorry?” she replied, trying to think of something logical to say. No way was she going to say Harry’s friends lived in a hovel! Mrs. Weasley chuckled. “You probably see a ruin instead of a home, don’t you, dear? Let me do the revealing charm for you, so you can see how things really look. Manifesto,” she said with a wave of her wand. Casey’s jaw dropped. Suddenly the ruin turned into an oddly shaped but perfectly sound home with colourful furnishings, a washing up bowl with a scrubbing brush busily cleaning dishes, and people visible through the windows playing a game where they appeared to be picking things up from the ground and throwing them over the garden hedge as hard as they could. Harry smiled to see the change in her face. “Fantastic, isn’t it?” he asked her. “Amazing!” She turned to Mrs. Weasley. “Why didn’t it look like this before?” “Wizards use Muggle-repelling charms on our homes, businesses, schools, and so on. If you see one of our homes, you’ll probably see a ruin, as ours appears to be. It will look as if it’s been empty for a long time, with an overgrown garden, an unused drive, things like that. If it’s a wizarding business, it will appear to have been closed for many years. This is one of the ways we protect ourselves, by concealing our world from Muggles.” Harry was looking around the house to see what changes had been made since he was last there. He looked at the magical clock on the wall that had a hand for each Weasley family member, showing if they were travelling, at home, at work, in mortal danger, and so forth. He grinned, noticing an extra hand had been added. “Mrs. Weasley! Thanks!” Mrs. Weasley, noticing the hand with Harry’s face on it pointed to “at home” said, “Oh, Harry, dear, you really are a part of the family. It only seemed right. It is a bit confusing when it says ‘at home,’ though — I think the clock isn’t certain where home is for you. It shows you ‘at home’ when you’re here, on Privet Drive, and at. . .”she glanced at Casey, “erm, at Remus’s place.” “Oh, I didn’t know your godfather had found a home,” Casey said with a smile. “I thought you said he travelled so much, he didn’t need a permanent place to live.” “Wherever Remus is staying, that’s his home,” Harry explained lamely. He didn’t want to get into the Order of the Phoenix business — that should remain secret, at least for a while. “Go on, then, the others are outside. I’m sure they’re eager to see you,” Mrs. Weasley said, shooing them out the door. Outside, Harry and Casey were suddenly surrounded by a sea of red-haired men. Ron, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie and Mr. Weasley were all in the garden, where they’d been tossing gnomes over the hedge. Percy, as ambitious as usual, chose to spend his Sunday at work rather than have fun with his family. The rift between Percy and the rest of the Weasleys was still open. “Harry! Good to see you!” “Harry, come help!” “Harry, who’s the babe?” — this spoken, of course, by Fred. . .or was it George? Laughing introductions were made all around. “C’mon, Harry, join the fun! Casey, have a go!” Casey followed Harry to the garden, leaning over to whisper to him, “What are those things they’re throwing?” “They’re gnomes. The garden has to be de-gnomed every so often. You chuck them out, eventually they come back, but that’s just the way it’s done. They don’t seem to mind being thrown. It’s fun, really,” Harry assured her. He caught one of the potato-shaped creatures and offered it to Casey. She flinched away from it, then bravely held out her hand for the gnome. “Eauw,” she said. “It’s like a potato with legs. . .and a face!” She nearly dropped it in her shock at seeing a wizened little face grimacing up at her. “Are you sure about this, Harry?” “Yeah, they seem to enjoy the game,” he said matter-of-factly, catching another gnome. “How bizarre! Now what do I do?” “Fling it as hard as you can over the hedge.” He hefted his gnome in his hand and demonstrated. Soon Casey was catching gnomes herself and throwing them with gleeful abandon. “You’re right, this is fun!” A few moments later, Remus arrived, with Hermione appearing not long after him. Hermione and Casey were as alike in their interests as Harry had thought, and they soon were deep in conversation. Mrs. Weasley brought out a pitcher of pumpkin juice and some biscuits and everyone sat down at the tables to visit a while. “Where’s Ginny?” Harry asked Ron. “Dunno. Reckon she’ll show up when she feels like it,” Ron answered, a bit evasively. “What’s up with her?” Harry said. “Oh, you know,” Ron replied quietly. “She’s. . .nervous.” Harry was stumped. “About what?” “About meeting your girlfriend, I suspect.” “Don’t tell me. . .” “OK, then,” Ron said with a shrug and a smile, “I won’t.” “You don’t think she still fancies me?” Harry said with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “I thought she was going out with Dean Thomas now.” “She broke up with him soon after we got home. She said he was just a ‘passing fancy.’” “But I’m not?” Harry asked a bit nervously. “Yeah, I think that’s it. I thought she was over her crush on you until Mum said you were coming to visit and bringing your girlfriend. And a Muggle girlfriend at that. Ginny ran to her room and hasn’t been seen since.” “Erm,” Harry began, then hesitated. The Weasleys were a pure wizarding family, but most wizarding families had intermarried with Muggles at some point or the family lines would have become too inbred or died out entirely. Mr. Weasley, in particular, was quite fond of Muggles. Surely the Weasleys weren’t prejudiced about wizards dating Muggles? “Um. . .does it bother you that she’s a Muggle?” “Me? Nah, it’s OK with me. As long as you’re not with a Slytherin, I don’t care who you go out with.” Ron studied his friend a moment and then leaned close to Harry’s ear. “Have you. . .erm. . .you know?” Harry sat up straighter, bewildered. “Have I what?” Ron leaned in to whisper again. “Have you. . .you know. . .done the deed?” Appalled but blushing, Harry punched Ron hard on the arm. “No! Where’d you get that idea?” “You just look. . .different somehow, I thought maybe. . . .” Ron shrugged, not really knowing what to say next. Harry glared at Ron a moment, turned and looked at Casey where she sat talking with Hermione. “Ron, if we’d done it, I wouldn’t talk about it. That wouldn’t be right. But we honestly haven’t. I will tell you this, though,” he said softly, still watching Casey’s animated face. “I love her. I really, truly love her. I can’t stop thinking about her. She amazes me.” Ron sat back, astonished. “Really? Blimey!” He looked from Harry to Casey then back to Harry again. “D’you think you’re going to marry her?” Harry laughed. “We’re sixteen — well, I’m sixteen, and she’ll be fifteen for little while longer, anyway. We haven’t talked about stuff that far in the future. I don’t know. But if that were to happen. . .I think it would be brilliant. Just not for a while. I’d like to finish school and grow up a bit first, you know?” “Yeah, me too,” Ron said with a sigh. “You too, what?” “I’d like to finish school first. . .” Ron began, then turned beet red. “Have you finally noticed you fancy Hermione?” Harry asked with a laugh. “Fancy her? I wish that were all!” Ron said, shaking his head. “I’m obsessed with her!” “You’ve always been obsessed with her. You were just too thick to realize it!” Harry said, grinning as he thumped Ron’s head with his knuckles. “So does she know yet?” Ron blanched. “Bloody hell, you don’t think I’d tell her, do you?” “If you don’t tell her soon,” Harry answered reasonably, “somebody else will snap her up and then where will you be? Don’t forget the Yule Ball and Viktor Krum.” “How could I?” Ron said, cringing and wrinkling his nose. “Vicky. Eauw.” “So when are you going to tell her?” Harry pressed. “Have you told Casey how you feel about her?” “Of course.” “ Of course? Whoa, Harry, I knew you were brave, but that takes the biscuit. When did you tell her?” “Two nights ago, when the Dementors attacked and I had to tell her I was a wizard.” “And she didn’t laugh or anything?” Harry grinned at his friend, then turned to look at Casey. She felt him looking and looked back at him. A warm smile spread over both their faces. “No, Ron, she didn’t laugh. She actually started it.” “She did?” Harry turned back to Ron. “Yes, she did. Hermione might start it if you’d stop bickering with her long enough to let her know you care about her.” “I’ll think about it,” he agreed with a lopsided grin and pink ears. Harry gave him a serious look. “But there’s something else. I want both you and Hermione to be happy. I know you fancy each other and I think you’ll be good for each other. I’ll be glad to listen to you when you want to talk about her. But I really do not want to hear any details about your ‘doing the deed,’ if you two do it, OK? That should be private.” Ron was beet red. He gulped. “Erm. OK,” he agreed in a strangled voice. Ron’s obvious distress at the thought of him and Hermione. . .erm. . .well. . .had Harry in stitches. He punched Ron playfully in the shoulder. “And by the way, has your dad had the ‘little wizards’ talk with you?” he teased. Ron gulped. “The what?” “Sirius called it the ‘little wizards talk.’ Remus called it the ‘little Harrys’ talk. You have had that talk with your dad, haven’t you?” Harry said, laughter in his eyes. “Erm. . .well. . .kind of.” Ron blushed even more. “And Fred and George. . .” Harry laughed out loud. “I’d take whatever they said with a pinch of salt if I were you.” A rueful grin creased Ron’s face. “Yeah, you’re right. What they said was nearly the opposite of what Dad said. Trouble is, I don’t know who to believe. None of what they said sounded very. . .erm. . .believable.” “Tell you what,” Harry offered. “I won’t talk about Casey and me like that, but we can talk about ‘little wizards’ sometime if you want. If we compare notes, we might actually understand it at some point.” “Yeah! Great!” Ron laughed, looking relieved. “Hey, how about a game of Quidditch? Did you bring the Firebolt?” “Right here in my pocket. I put a Shrinking Charm on it.” “Gosh, I wish I was allowed to do magic like that at home,” Ron said wistfully. “You live in a magical world all the time. And you’ll be old enough before too long,” Harry assured him. Ron rounded up his brothers and Harry called Casey and Hermione over, then started explaining Quidditch to Casey. “Harry, did you bring your Firebolt?” Fred — or was it George? — asked. “Of course!” Harry answered, then pulled a small wadded up bundle out of his pocket. Wrapped in a napkin, not a lot larger than three toothpicks together, was his Firebolt. “Hey, nice shrinking charm, Harry,” Remus said in delight. “Full marks!” Harry laughed and took the broom out of the wrapping. “Watch this, Casey,” he said as he held the tiny broom out in mid-air. He let go and it hovered where he’d left it. He did the restoration charm and the broom became full-size with a small “pop.” Casey’s mouth dropped open in amazement. “Want to go for a ride?” Harry offered. “Uh. . .there’s no. . .um. . .saddle,” Casey said hesitantly. “How do you sit on it?” “It has a Cushioning Charm on it. It’s actually pretty comfortable, like riding a bike,” Harry said. He straddled the broomstick and held out his hand to her. “Come on, jump on behind. I’ll stay low and slow until you feel comfortable on it.” “Promise?” she said nervously as she got on the broom behind him. “I told you you’re safe with me,” he assured her. “This isn’t really a two-person broom, so shift up behind me and hold on tight, OK?” “No problem!” Casey agreed as she snuggled up against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Oy! Hermione,” Harry called. She was walking toward them helping Ron, Fred and George carry brooms. “Could you plait Casey’s hair so it doesn’t get all tangled?” “OK,” she agreed with a smile, getting out her wand. “Harry! What’s she going to do? She’s. . .” Casey whispered nervously in his ear. “Pointing her wand at you so she can charm your hair into a plait,” he answered. “Oh,” she replied in a small voice, then trembled as she felt her hair moving on its own into a neatly done braid down her back. She reached behind her and felt the plait. “Wow! Thanks, Hermione!” she called with a smile to her new friend. “No problem!” Hermione replied with a grin as she sat down to watch the Weasley boys getting ready to fly off to the Quidditch pitch. “Ready?” Harry asked Casey. He felt her nod against his back. “Here we go!” He kicked off gently, getting the Firebolt to move as slowly as possible, and staying close to the ground. “Wow!” Casey breathed. “This is so cool!” “Are you having fun?” Harry asked her. “Oh yes!” “Ready for some speed and height?” “Uh. . .” “I’ll take care of you. Hang on, we’ll do it gradually,” he assured her as he started to climb and put on just a little speed. Soon they were making lazy curves in the sky, Casey whooping with each turn. “This is great!” Her voice was full of laughter. “Better than an amusement park!” “Ready for more?” “What?” she asked, then squealed as he sped up rapidly. She wrapped her arms even tighter around his waist, burying her face in his back at first. Then as she got used to the speed, she lifted her head and looked around, watching the wind whip Harry’s black hair around, looking down at the trees twenty feet below them, gazing at a bird flying at the same height they were. “Oy! Harry! Are you going to play?” one of the twins called. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” he answered. “I’m turning the balls loose now. Catch the Snitch when you get a moment, all right?” Ron teased. “Hey, Hermione! We need one more up here. D’you want to play?” “No, thanks, Ron, you know I’m not as good a flier as you lot are,” she answered with a smile. “I’ll just sit here with Casey and watch, all right?” “So Harry, we’re playing four to a side, but our side has three — I’m Keeper, Fred’s Beater, and you’ll be Chaser as well as Seeker, since you’re the last on the pitch — last one in gets the bum jobs, y’know!” Ron laughed. “Charlie’s Seeker, Bill’s Keeper and George is Beater on the other side.” “Who’s their Chaser?” Harry asked as he started to descend. “I am!” a voice called from the ground, and Remus soon zoomed past them on his way to join the game. “Cool!” Harry grinned as he spiralled down to the ground, landing next to Hermione. Casey got off and sat down, breathless from her flight. Harry took off in a rush, showing off with barrel rolls, loops, and a huge burst of speed with a captured Snitch at the end of it. He released the Snitch and raced off again, just playing with the broom, and showing off for Casey before getting serious about his Chaser duties. “Boy,” Casey breathed, “I’m glad he didn’t fly like that with me on the broom!” “He’s amazing, isn’t he?” said Hermione. “He’s probably the best flier Hogwarts has ever had.” “Really?” “Oh yes. He was the youngest Seeker in a hundred years, and he’s won nearly every game he’s been in. Once he caught the Snitch just a few seconds into the game, which is very rare because the Snitch likes to hide, and usually isn’t seen until a game has been going on quite some time. He’ll probably be Gryffindor’s Quidditch Captain this year. I imagine the professional Quidditch teams will be recruiting him in his last year at Hogwarts, too.” “So you think he’s going to be a professional Quidditch player?” Casey asked. “I think he’d be brilliant at it,” Hermione said with a smile. “But he says he wants to be an Auror, so he has more studying to get through after Hogwarts. I don’t know if he’ll play Quidditch first or just go on with his training. I’ve read that his dad was a brilliant Quidditch player, too.” Casey cringed, watching Harry dodge the Bludgers as he charged a goal post with the Quaffle in his arm. He tossed it through for a score. The girls cheered before Casey continued. “It looks like a dangerous game.” “Oh, it is. There are injuries nearly every game. But Madam Pomfrey — she’s our school nurse. She’s brilliant. She can repair broken arms in seconds. She re-grew all the bones in Harry’s arm overnight one time.” Casey turned to face Hermione, uncertain if the young witch was teasing her or not. “Sorry?” Hermione went on to tell her the circumstances of Harry’s losing all the bones in his right arm and how Madam Pomfrey re-grew them with Skele-Gro, then went on with other stories about Quidditch games in Harry’s past, and how Ron had become such an excellent Keeper during the past school year. Fred was doing the commentary on the game as he played. “And it’s Lupin with the Quaffle, bearing down on Weasley’s goal. C’mon Ron, he’s not your professor now! OH NO! The goal is good! Nice, work, Professor! The Quaffle is back in play. And it’s Potter with the Quaffle again, racing down the pitch to the goal defended by Weasley. Bill Weasley was one of Hogwarts best Keepers at one time, but he appears to be rusty! Then again, Potter’s a great Quidditch player! Look out Bill, here comes Harry again! And it’s Weasley doing nice Bludger work, but he missed! And Potter is at the goal now, Weasley defending. And it’s GOOD! The score now stands Weasley/Potter 30, Weasley/Lupin 10. Too bad, Bill! And it’s Weasley after the Snitch! Go Charlie! No, wait, Harry’s on my team! HARRY! GO! GO! GO! Potter’s all the way across the pitch, but look at that Firebolt go! And Potter does one of his trademark dives, then stands on his broomstick as it skims along the grass, and ALMOST catches the Snitch! But Weasley comes in from the side and nearly knocks Potter off his broom! Nice move, Charlie, but don’t hurt Gryffindor’s Seeker! And the Snitch has escaped again. Weasley with the Quaffle, racing toward Weasley’s goal. And Ron saves it! Well done, Ron! The Quaffle is put back into play and it’s Potter carrying the Quaffle — but there’s the Snitch! Potter’s after the Snitch, with a Quaffle in his arms! He passes to Weasley — that’s me! - then dives. Charlie Weasley is after the Snitch as well. What a spectacular dive! Weasley attempts a goal, but is stopped by Weasley — it’s hard to shoot well when you’re commentating on a match! The two Seekers are neck and neck. Harry’s grown a lot this summer, Charlie, look how long his arms are now! Look out! Weasley pushes Potter’s arm out of the way and goes for the Snitch, but Potter rolls upside down and goes UNDER Weasley, grabbing the Snitch as Charlie’s distracted by his manoeuvre! And it’s Potter with the Snitch, winning the game for Weasley/Potter 180 to 10!” Harry zoomed around the pitch, pumping his Snitch-filled fist in the air, then joined Fred and Ron in a back-thumping hug. “Harry, I knew you were a fantastic Seeker, but that was just an amazing move,” Charlie said with great admiration. “Well done!” Ron elbowed Harry. “You do know Charlie was Hogwarts greatest Seeker — until you came along,” he said with a grin. “Yeah, I’ve heard. You’ve only told me about a million times,” Harry laughed. “Harry, are you going to go professional?” Charlie asked as they all flew lazy circles in the centre of the pitch, catching their breath. “Nobody’s asked me,” Harry replied. “But I want to be an Auror. If a team recruits me, I’ll have to work out how to manage both Quidditch and school.” “You do that now!” Ron teased. “Yeah, but Auror training, that’s a lot more intense than Hogwarts, I suspect,” Harry replied. He rolled his eyes suddenly. “MORE intense than Hogwarts! How will I ever manage without you and Hermione to help me with my homework? We should all go to school together again!” “I dunno, Harry,” Ron said hesitantly. “I’d probably pick Quidditch if a team recruited me. Tough choice.” “Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Who said we could get into serious discussions here?” said Fred in a mock-stern voice. “Shall we have another go, then?” “I should get back to Casey,” Harry answered, then started to descend. “Casey, want another ride?” he called as he headed toward her. “Yeah!” she agreed, getting up and brushing the grass off her jeans. Ron was flying right on Harry’s tail. When he neared the ground, he hovered next to the girls. “Hermione,” Ron said with his cheeks reddening and his voice cracking, “would you like a ride?” Hermione looked up at him, surprised at the offer. She could fly by herself when she wanted to, but she rarely wanted to. She honestly wasn’t very fond of flying. Yet here was Ron, making an offer. . . . “Yeah!” She climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, snuggling up against him as Casey was doing with Harry. Ron’s ears turned bright red, especially when his twin brothers started whistling at them. Charlie and Bill chased Fred and George off, Remus landed and headed for the house, and Ron, Hermione, Harry and Casey cruised happily over the Quidditch pitch and the Weasley garden for quite a while. |
| Reviews 618 |
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