CHAPTER ONE: DINNER AND A SHOW
“So, Ron, you said your brothers were going to come home soon for a couple of weeks?” Harry asked politely, passing the basket of bread across to Ginny (who had asked for it), trying to start up a conversation at the dinner table. Now that Fred and George were out of the house—having bought the Shrieking Shack for their joke shop (it really was in an excellent location after all, plus they made a fortune off of all the Hogwarts students who they easily supplied by way of the secret passage) and converted the upper level into a three bedroom flat, which they shared with Lee—things just hadn’t been quite so...lively? Interesting? Entertaining? It was hard to put a finger on exactly what it was, but there certainly weren’t as many ‘surprises’ now-a-days, which had been (for the most part) the twins’ doing.
“Yep, Gred and Forge are coming, even though they say they’ll be missing out on a lot of business, even though Lee’s staying in Hogsmeade to run the shop. Then there’s Percy. He says he can only make it for a couple of days—important ministry business to attend to, you know; he’s so full of it. And of course Charlie is coming. He said that there’s a dragon they need to attend to somewhere around these parts anyways. That leaves Bill. He’s coming too, though I’m not exactly sure when. Apparently the goblins become rather nasty towards their staff around this time of year—you know, with the holidays and all. They love all of the transactions or whatever from everyone buying all sorts of presents and everything, but they get sort of pissed when the staff asks for vacation time—least that’s what Bill said—knowing those goblins, though, I don’t doubt it in the least,” Ron responded, chewing on a piece of chicken as he talked.
Mrs. Weasley hastily chastised her son for his “ungainly manners” and Ron rolled his eyes before reluctantly apologizing for his behavior. “I don’t see why she cares so much; it’s not like we have company or anything,” Ron expressed quietly to Harry when Mrs. Weasley shifted her attention as she inquired about which classes Hermione was planning to take this upcoming school year. This served as an effective distraction so that she didn’t overhear Ron’s comment.
Harry merely shrugged his shoulders, as if to say that he didn’t know why, not really wanting to get involved. He noted, happily, that Ron didn’t consider him—or Hermione for that matter—company. Did that mean that they were like family to him? He hoped so...he considered the Weasleys as his family. But, of course, he didn’t have any real family to speak of (the Dursleys, naturally, didn’t count). The Weasley’s on the other hand, had enough children to start their own quiditch team. They didn’t need any more mouths to feed or children to take care of, and yet...they considered him a part of their family. All of them did, not just Ron, as they had made clear on several occasions, which touched Harry more deeply than anything else he had ever experienced and more than words could express.
His musings were cut short, however, by Mrs. Weasley’s latest grievance over Ron’s manners (or lack thereof.) “Ron, dear, you know it’s not polite to put your elbows on the table,” she nagged at him with exasperation.
Ron let out a small huff of irritation, mumbling under his breath, “I don’t see why she has to make such a big deal about it,” as Harry smiled at the annoyed look on his friend’s face and his almost inaudible comment that was obviously meant for only him to overhear.
“What was that now, Ronald?” Mrs. Weasley asked in a no-nonsense tone, apparently having heard Ron’s mumbling and instinctively knowing it was aimed towards her.
“Nothing, mum,” Ron replied with practiced ease. “Just wondering when dessert will be ready,” he added at his mother’s unconvinced and suspicious look.
Although Molly, as the mother of seven children and the person who had raised the troublesome twins, knew a lie when she heard one, she let this one slid, choosing to answer the question Ron had asked rather than call him on it. “Well, it’s going to be another hour or so. Why don’t you and your friends go play a game with your sister or something until it’s ready,” she suggested, not wanting Ginny to feel left out, before levitating the dishes and heading into the kitchen, Mr. Weasley in tow.
Taking his mother’s advice, Ron turned to Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. “So, do you guys want to play quidditch?” he asked somewhat hopefully, sending a questioning look to each of the three he was addressing.
“Well, I’m up for—” Harry began before an indignant huff from Hermione, signaling the beginning of a lengthy tirade, cut him off.
“Honestly! You know there are other things we can do besides play quidditch,” she announced, sounding rather peeved, “Some of us would rather do something else for a change.”
Ron was, by now, staring at her with a rather shocked and outraged look on his face. How dare she insult quidditch? he thought to himself, She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “What’s wrong with quidditch? Besides, I don’t see you coming up with anything better,” Ron declared, his voice rising with his anger.
“What’s wrong with it, Ron, is that it is all you ever want to do. Why don’t you include me in something for a change? Perhaps we could even do something that I would like to do,” Hermione shouted back, acting quite unlike herself. It was obvious that she was quite upset.
“The only reason why you don’t like quidditch and won’t ever play it with us is because you’re no good at it. It probably just pisses you off that it’s the one thing that I’m better than you at, but that doesn’t mean you should try to stop me from playing it just because you don’t want to make a bloody fool out of yourself,” Ron threw back.
“Enough!” Harry finally interrupted the two, causing them to start a bit at his unexpected outburst. Ginny seemed a bit shocked as well, but also relieved that someone was finally doing something to stop the escalating insults. “Listen up, I am sick and tired of the way you two keep constantly bickering and insulting each other! You guys are my best friends, but it’s no fun to be around you when you act like this. And what’s the big deal anyway? Most of the time you fight over stupid, little things, like what we’re going to do for an hour until dessert is ready, and end up turning it into some huge deal; which it’s not. I don’t know what has gotten into you two lately, but whatever it is, can’t you just give it a rest?” Harry pleaded. His harsh words hit Hermione and Ron like a bludger, bringing an uncomfortable silence down between all four of the room’s occupants.
Finally Hermione worked up the nerve to form some sort of reply. “I...Harry, I’m sorry. I guess I just...I didn’t realize our fighting was bothering you so much,” she spoke lamely, her voice quiet and abashed. Harry nodded his head slightly in silent acceptance of her apology.
“Yeah, mate, I’m sorry,” Ron added from where he was standing before ruining it by adding, “I’m sure Hermione will refrain from starting arguments when you’re around from now on.”
Hermione looked like she was about to boil over from that last comment, Harry’s presence and his plea for her and Ron to stop fighting all but forgotten. “Me refrain from starting arguments!” she asked incredulously, glaring at Ron for his audacity.
Ron was about to retort when Ginny finally decided to speak up, putting in her two cents (or two knuts, rather.) “How about you both refrain from starting arguments and from arguing in general. I must say that I have to agree with Harry on this one,” she spoke as calmly as she could manage, hoping that it would help placate the other three.
“Oh, so you’re agreeing with Harry? Big surprise there!” Ron replied mockingly, alluding to the crush Ginny had had on Harry ever since she’d laid eyes on him. When Ginny’s eyes welled up with tears at her brother’s harsh words and a hurt expression came across her face, Ron realized just what he had done, a regretful look crossing his own features. “Gin...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” he attempted to reassure her. She just glared at him, before dashing up the stairs and to her room, slamming the door behind her.
“Nice going, Ron,” Hermione said sarcastically, exacerbating the situation. Before the two could break out the insults and start flinging them at each other again, Harry let out a frustrated sigh and exited out the front door, hoping a bit of fresh air would help calm him down and that, given time, his two best friends, who were currently acting more like seven than their actual seventeen years of age, would be able to cool off and reconcile their differences.
Once outside, he just began walking (or more accurately stalking) off in a random direction. Perhaps taking a nice, long walk would help. And it did, for the most part. He just kept walking and walking; he must have been doing so for at least half an hour or so by the time he finally began to think about going in. He hoped no one was worried about him; Mrs. Weasley could be rather overprotective at times, though he couldn’t blame her for it.
Deciding that he himself had cooled off enough and that it was time for him to head back towards the house, he abruptly turned to where he could make out the lights coming from the Burrow through the branches of the trees he was walking amongst. The small wood located outside of the Weasley household was quite pleasant, though it made finding your way back somewhat more difficult.
It was getting dark by now, the sun had already dipped below the horizon and the stars were becoming quite visible as the moon took up its reign over the sky. Stopping to view the stars for a few moments and attempting to spot some of the many constellations he had learned about in astrology before heading back, Harry didn’t notice, until it almost bowled him over, that the Knight Bus was heading his way. And it wasn’t just coming towards him, but directly at him. This is it, he thought fearfully, though his mind still managed to be sarcastic at the same time, Forget about Death Eaters and Voldemort...I can just imagine it now, ‘Boy-who-lived gets fatally decked by triple-decker.” Catchy headline, I’m sure they’ll sell lots of that issue. Just my luck.
