Intersections

Chapter 9: Weasleys

"Harry, dear, are you sure you don't want some more beef?" asked Mrs. Weasley, her serving ladle hovering right above his plate.

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, his face burning. "I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," he mumbled, "thank you." Mrs. Weasley had been trying to make him eat more food throughout dinner, but Harry was too full now. Even though he had been eating a little bit more at the Dursleys' house, he still wasn't used to too much food at once. If he ate any more now, he was likely to sick up.

"Don't worry about Mum," Ginny whispered, leaning over Harry and plucking the ladle out of her mother's fingers, dumping the beef onto her plate. "She's always trying to feed people loads of food." She flashed him a grin. "Save some room for dessert," she said, "Mum makes the best pudding."

Harry smiled and caught Hermione's eye across the table. Her plate was also clean, her hands folded primly in her lap as she stared at Ginny's brother, Ron, with horrified fascination. Ron was shoveling food into his mouth faster than the speed of light. For a moment, Harry was unpleasantly reminded of Dudley.

"Slow down, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley scolded.

"Yeah, Ronniekins," Fred teased, "that's not the stellar behavior you'd expect from a prefect."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "As if everyone doesn't see it in the Great Hall during mealtimes," she said.

Ron's ears were slowly turning red, and he swallowed his food loudly. "Shut it."

"Don't tease your brother," Mrs. Weasley admonished, and she flicked her wand. Harry and Hermione's empty plates floated toward the sink. Hermione's head swiveled as she watched their trajectory, her eyes gleaming with a strange hunger.

"Dessert, Mum?" Ron asked hopefully.

"In just a minute, dear." Mrs. Weasley stood and looked thoughtfully around the table. Fred, George, and Ginny had just finished their last bites, while Ron seemed to be refusing to eat any more after his siblings' comments. Mr. Weasley hadn't yet returned form work. Harry knew that the eldest Weasley children, Bill and Charlie, worked in different countries. Percy, who used to be a prefect at Hogwarts, worked for the Ministry like Mr. Weasley, but he was having some sort of row with the rest of his family and was staying in his own flat.

"Pudding!" Ginny exclaimed gleefully, her brown eyes brightening as a beautifully made, enormous Christmas pudding hovered above the center of the now-empty table, setting itself down with a soft thump.

"All right, here are the plates," said Mrs. Weasley, doling out clean plates and spoons to everyone seated "Enjoy yourselves. Harry, Hermione, happy belated Christmas." She smiled warmly at them both.

"Aren't you going to have some, Mum?" George asked.

"No, dear, I'm not in the mood for sweets. Go on, then." Mrs. Weasley walked to the sink and turned on a small radio, humming and flicking her wand occasionally as the dishes washed themselves. Soft strains of Christmas music permeated the air.

Harry waited until everyone else had dug their spoons into the pudding before carving out a small portion for himself. The pudding was rich and delicious, melting on his tongue slightly before it hit the back of his throat. Warmth spread throughout his body, and he closed his eyes contentedly. Dinner at the Dursleys' had never been like this - full of warmth and laughter and easy conversation, despite Harry's awkwardness at being a guest in someone's home, eating someone else's food, and being gawked at by the Weasley children when they thought he wasn't looking. He knew that they were trying to see his curse scar, but it wasn't all that special, was it? It was just a mark on his forehead, shaped like a lightning bolt.

At least they were friendly and didn't try to treat him like a leper as his schoolmates at Stonewall once did.

"Do you like the pudding?" Ginny asked, her brown eyes sparkling.

Harry nodded, smiling. "This is the best dinner I've ever had," he declared. At the sink, Mrs. Weasley's cheeks suffused with pleasure.

"Yeah, Mum, great cooking," said Fred.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said.

"Oh, it was no trouble at all, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, her cheeks bright red.

"When's Dumbledore coming, Mum?" Ron asked, scraping his spoon against the plate.

"After dinner, and he only wants to speak to Harry, Hermione, me, and your father, so all of you are to go to your rooms when you're done," Mrs. Weasley answered.

"Aw, but Mum..." Ron pleaded. He stopped when Fred gave him a significant look. "All right."

George winked, and Harry shot a confused look at Hermione, whose brow knitted in puzzlement.

An hour later, Dumbledore was sitting at the kitchen table across from Harry and Hermione, sipping a cup of tea as Mrs. Weasley had a murmured conversation with her husband, who was standing outside at the back door.

"How do you like the Burrow?" Dumbledore asked, as Mrs. Weasley stepped back and opened the door, letting in both her husband and a gust of icy air.

"It's lovely, sir," Hermione answered, her expression guarded.

"It's fine," Harry said.

"I'm sorry I'm late," said Mr. Weasley, sitting down and warming his hands with a cup of tea. "Somebody was out Muggle-baiting again -"

"It is perfectly fine, Arthur," Dumbledore interrupted, steel in his tone, and his expression warmed again as he looked at Harry and Hermione. "I am very glad you have arrived safely. Was the trip here any trouble?"

"No, sir," Harry answered. Hermione shook her head.

"Very good," said Dumbledore, studying Harry and Hermione for a moment. "The first things you'll need to begin learning magic are wands, which can only - reasonably - be found in Diagon Alley, the wizarding shopping place in London. We will be traveling there on New Year's Day to buy your wands and other supplies."

"I don't have any money, sir," Harry said, his heart starting to race. The Dursleys had never seen fit to give him pocket money.

Dumbledore looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Do not worry, Harry, we will provide for you. You as well, Miss Granger."

"I can pay - " Hermione started, but Dumbledore held up a hand.

"Like I said, do not worry."

"You'll be able to use the old textbooks in the house," Mrs. Weasley offered. "They're a little bit worn, but still readable."

"Thank you, Molly," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

"Who will be teaching us, sir?" Hermione asked.

"Ah, excellent question, Miss Granger. You will be taught by one of Hogwarts' former professors, Remus Lupin."

"Oh, he's an excellent professor," Mr. Weasley nodded. "The kids loved him. It's a pity that he couldn't stay longer."

"A great pity," Dumbledore agreed, "he was one of my best." He paused and looked around carefully. "Professor Lupin will also be assisted by his friend, Sirius Black."

"Sirius Black!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

Harry's jaw dropped open. "Sirius Black? The...the dog-man? My godfather?"

"The murderer?" Hermione whispered, just as Mr. Weasley roared, "The traitor?"

Dumbledore waited until shock had silenced everyone in the kitchen. He pushed his spectacles up his nose and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Fourteen years ago, Sirius Black was convicted of killing thirteen Muggles and his old friend Peter Pettigrew, as well as betraying Lily, James, and Harry Potter to Voldemort."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nodded, fury on their faces.

Harry stifled the urge to ask questions, and continued listening.

"The Order caught Sirius two weeks ago when he escaped from Azkaban - the wizarding prison - and questioned him using Veritaserum - a truth potion. It turned out that Sirius did not betray the Potters; Peter Pettigrew did. Peter framed Sirius by publicly accusing him of betrayal, then he killed the Muggles and escaped using his Animagus form - a rat. Pettigrew cut off his own finger so that it would appear that Sirius had killed him.

"Now we know that Sirius Black is innocent, and Peter Pettigrew...alas, his location is unknown."

Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley looked completely floored. Harry thought back to the night that Sirius had attacked him. Most of what he'd said matched to Dumbledore's story, but there were a few details missing. Sirius had said that he and Peter had "switched at the last minute." Switched what? And Dumbledore hadn't said whether Sirius was really his godfather or not. Harry hadn't seen him in any of Lily's photos, but he had claimed to be closer to James than to Lily.

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, who seemed to be expecting something. "Is Sirius Black really my godfather, sir?"

"Sirius Black is indeed your godfather, Harry," said Dumbledore. "He and your father were particularly close friends, both at Hogwarts and during the war."

Harry nodded, thinking of the dream - flashback - he'd had of the toy broom, his parents, and Sirius.

"Sir..." Hermione said thoughtfully, tilting her head a little. "Where will Professor Lupin and...Mr. Black be staying? At the Burrow with us?"

Dumbledore turned to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, an inquiring expression on his face. "I - well - " Mrs. Weasley stammered, "I suppose that would be all right. We can put them in Bill and Percy's old rooms, or the twins' when the kids go back to Hogwarts."

"Unfortunately, Sirius Black is still a fugitive to the Ministry," Dumbledore said. "Kingsley has asked to be in charge of his search so that he can mislead it." He paused. "The Order will strengthen the protections on the Burrow. Arthur -"

"I won't say a word about Sirius," said Mr. Weasley, holding up his hands. "And I don't even associate with Kingsley normally."

"Thank you, Arthur. Molly, you're certain that you are all right with letting Sirius stay here? He and Remus are currently sharing a flat in London, but with Remus' condition and the Death Eater attacks..."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "The Burrow is welcome to anyone in the Order." Apprehension flitted across her face, but it was soon replaced by a warm smile.

"As for Remus'...condition?" Mr. Weasley asked, shooting an uneasy glance at the teenagers that did not escape Harry's notice.

"Professor Snape will continue to provide him the potion," Dumbledore answered, "and Remus will move to Hogwarts while he is ill. Sirius's Animagus form is a dog, so he can accompany Remus."

Harry and Hermione exchanged very confused glances.

"Do you have any questions?" Dumbledore asked the teenagers.

"What condition does Professor Lupin have, sir?" Hermione asked.

"Only he has the right to tell you," Dumbledore replied firmly. "However, it will leave him incapacitated at certain times."

Hermione sat back, subdued, her brow creased in thought.

"Harry? Any questions?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir." In truth, a million questions were crowding his mind, but he didn't think he had enough space to pick them out. His mind was running a mile a minute. He had a godfather...a fugitive godfather. He grinned slightly - that was pretty damn wicked. But what exactly did godfathers do? He knew that there was some sort of religious duty associated with the position, but he didn't know what.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Arthur, Sturgis will arrive on New Year's Day to accompany you to Diagon Alley, and Remus and Sirius will arrive once the term begins at Hogwarts on January 15. Harry, Miss Granger, enjoy your holidays." He stood and crossed the room to the fireplace, throwing a handful of white powder from the jar into the blazing flames. The flames turned a bright green, and Dumbledore stepped inside, shouting "Hogwarts!" He disappeared in a whirl of black smoke.

Hermione goggled. "How did he do that?" Dumbledore had come in through the back door when he'd arrived at the Burrow.

"Oh! That was Floo powder, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, "it's a form of transportation. You throw the Floo powder in and shout the name of your destination."

Hermione looked at the fireplace, the glint of curiosity back in her eyes.

Harry stood and handed his cup to Mrs. Weasley, quietly thanking her for the tea. After a moment, Hermione followed, coming to a halt as they caught sight of the long, fleshy strings rising up the staircase.

"What is that?" she asked, astonished.

---------------------------------------------------

"Extendable Ears," Fred explained, as George, Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and he crowded the small landing right in front of Ron's room. He handed Hermione a piece of flesh-covered string with two bulbous ends. "The third fully developed product of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, run by yours truly and his twin." He and George bowed together with a flourish.

"They're for eavesdropping," Ginny explained, completely unabashed. "We use them to listen in on the Order meetings. And this meeting, of course."

"What Order?" asked Hermione, frowning. Dumbledore had mentioned that some Order hat captured Sirius, but she'd forgotten to ask what it was.

The discussion with Dumbledore still bothered her. She wanted to trust the headmaster, but she still felt like he was hiding loads of information, despite all that he'd revealed. She also hated the fact that he called her "Miss Granger" but called Harry by his first name. Why was she a stranger while Harry wasn't? What kind of game was he playing? Hermione smiled slightly. A month ago she'd never have thought to question the headmaster of a school, even if it wasn't her school. What was happening to her?

Ron's voice shook her out of her thoughts. "Dad and Mum are in a group called the Order of the Phoenix," he explained, clearing his throat and stepping backward into his room so that everyone else could stand comfortably without falling down the stairs. "It's run by Dumbledore. They fight against Death Eaters and try to figure out what You-Know-Who is doing, since the Ministry refuses to do it."

"You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"Oh. Yeah. You know..."

"I don't, actually," said Hermione.

"Voldemort," Ginny interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Ron's afraid to say the name."

Ron flushed.

"So the Order caught Sirius Black," George said, and he whistled. "I can't believe we're going to have a fugitive staying in our house."

"What do you know about him?" Harry asked eagerly.

"I reckon you know more about him than we do," said Ron. "The Order said he was following you around in your Muggle neighborhood."

"Oh - yeah - he was." Harry ran a hand through his hair nervously, and all eyes except Hermione's flicked to his briefly exposed scar. "He just wanted to talk to Dumbledore, really. He told me he was my godfather, and he told Dumbledore he was innocent, like you heard in the kitchen."

"It's true that he has an Animagus form?" Fred asked, looking impressed.

"Er...he can turn into a dog, if that's what you mean. I saw him do that." Harry fidgeted. Hermione wondered if he was going to talk about how Sirius had defended him from the Death Eaters, but he didn't say anything more.

"Wicked," said George. "Animagus transformations are really advanced magic."

"Is it a human-to-animal transformation?" Hermione asked, determined to find out more.

"Not just any animal," said Fred. "You turn into an animal that matches your inner personality, or something like that."

"And you retain your human mind, which is different from ordinary Transfiguration," said George. "If you Transfigure someone into a toad, their brain will be like a toad's. But Animagi...their brain is still human, but their physical form is animal."

"That's amazing," Hermione breathed, her mind running through the implications of such a feat.

"I didn't know you were so interested in Animagi," Ginny said, looking at the twins with something akin to suspicion.

Fred waved his hand airily. "Had to research it to make Canary Creams for the business," he answered.

"Is Weasleys' Wizards' Wheezes your own company?" Hermione asked.

"Pretty much, yeah. We want to open our own shop in Diagon Alley, but we haven't got the money," said Fred, looking - for the first time - a little bit sad.

Harry grimaced, sympathetically.

"What exactly do you sell?"

"Fake wands, joke sweets - we're still working on it," said Fred. "Been taking orders at Hogwarts since the beginning of term."

"I have the pleasant duty of confiscating the products if I see them being sold," Ron sighed.

"Ah yes, Prefect Ron, ever noble," Fred grinned.

"Though not so noble as to confiscate them when they're being sold to second-years or older," George said.

"Yeah, well," Ron muttered, "everyone but the first-years should already know better."

Fred clapped Ron on the back. "Knew you weren't going to turn into Percy, ickle Ronniekins," he said with a laugh.

"You never had it in you," George said proudly.

Ron looked as if he didn't know whether to be pleased or ashamed. Hermione frowned. The prefects at Witsford strictly adhered to the rules. She would've got the position if she hadn't been a day student, and she doubted that she'd have worked very well if Ron had been her partner.

"What did they mean about Professor Lupin's condition?" Harry asked.

"Er..." Ron's face was slowly starting to flush again. "We can't tell you. It wouldn't be right to, anyway."

"He has a furry little problem once a month," said Ginny with a smirk.

Hermione blanched as an unfortunate image involving the menstrual cycle, rabbits, and her impression of Professor Lupin crossed through her mind.

"Not like that," Ginny said hastily, catching the expression on Hermione's face.

"Oh. Eurgh...that's gross," Ron said, disgusted, as realization dawned on his face. Ginny scowled fiercely at him.

"It's perfectly natural," Hermione said archly, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, but..." Ron made a face and shuddered. Fred and George sniggered quietly.

Harry cleared his throat, looking considerably discomfited. "Anyway, erm...so....what kind of -" He gasped suddenly, his face white as a sheet, clutching at his forehead and letting out a cry of pain as he stumbled backward into Ron. Ron caught him and looked wide-eyed at Hermione as Harry convulsed.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Ron, panicked.

"Visions," she answered shrilly, suddenly remembering their telephone conversation from so long ago. "He gets - visions of things - his scar -"

"I'll get Mum and Dad," said Ginny, running down the stairs.

"Can we wake him up?" asked Fred, his wand pointing at Harry. "Cold water, perhaps?"

"I think so, I don't know," said Hermione, her heart pounding as she looked at Harry helplessly. Bile rose in her throat. "I've never been with - maybe I should get ice - or - or -"

"Aguamenti!" Fred shouted. A stream of water hit Harry's scar and splashed across the rest of his face.

Harry woke with a start, his chest heaving as he looked around with wide, terrified eyes, the green fragmented through the droplets on his glasses. "What - what happened?"

"You had a seizure, mate," said Ron, releasing Harry as he clutched the stair rail, shaking.

"Harry?" Hermione said, hesitantly. "Did you - see - anything?"

Harry nodded. He looked sick. "There was a Death Eater...I was - I had a wand." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I cursed him with something like 'Crucio' - and he screamed - I said that he deserved it for his failure to bring me in. To bring 'Potter' to...to me...but it wasn't really me..."

Ron's eyes went wide, and he exchanged a look with the twins. He opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut as Ginny raced up to the landing with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in tow. "Harry, dear, are you all right?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Harry's white face now had a greenish tinge. "I think I'm going to be sick." Ron jumped out of the way as Harry doubled over and retched at the threshold to his room. "Oh God - I'm sorry -"

"Evanesco," said George quietly, his wand held loosely in his hand. The vomit disappeared.

"We need to contact Dumbledore," said Ron.

Mr. Weasley's voice was sharp. "I'll firecall him. Don't move." As he rushed down the stairs, Harry sat down on the landing, still trembling. Everyone hovered uncertainly around him.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, her voice soft. She knelt down and touched his shoulder gently.

Harry took a deep breath, his green eyes haunted as he looked up at her. "Yeah. I think so." He took off his glasses and tried to clean them with his still-damp shirt. "I think...I wasn't myself in the dream. I mean. I was cursing the Death Eater, but it wasn't me. It was as if I were in someone else's body."

Mr. Weasley came up the stairs again. "Harry, Molly, come with me to the kitchen. Everyone else, to your rooms - now."

The Weasley children scrambled to obey. Ginny pulled Hermione downstairs, following Harry and her parents until they reached the first floor landing where Ginny's tiny room was located. "Do you still have the Extendable Ear Fred gave you?" Ginny whispered.

Hermione looked down at her left hand and nodded. She hadn't even realized that she was still holding the bulbous little string.

"Good. We're going to listen." Ginny waited for her parents' voices to fade away, then she held up an Extendable Ear and pressed it to her own, gesturing for Hermione to do the same. The fleshy strings began to stretch, winding around the rest of the staircase and through the hallway toward the back of the house. Hermione started slightly as Harry's and Dumbledore's voices became louder.

"I felt this sharp pain through my scar and this horrible rage..."

-----------------------------------------

Harry's hands clutched the table as he finished describing his vision to Dumbledore. He and Dumbledore were alone in the kitchen; the professor had sent Mr. and Mrs. Weasley out politely. Harry was certain that Hermione and at least one of the Weasleys were listening with the Extendable Ears. They didn't seem to feel ashamed about eavesdropping on the other meeting.

"Firstly, Harry," said Dumbledore, drawing Harry's attention back to his grave, blue-eyed gaze, "that was not you in the vision. I believe that was Voldemort."

Harry closed his eyes as dizziness overtook him. "What do you mean, sir? Do you mean that I...I was in his head?"

"That is exactly what I am saying, Harry," said Dumbledore gently. He held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth to ask a question. "Deep breaths, Harry, calm down. We must discuss the vision before it escapes your memory. Afterwards, you may ask me any question you like."

Harry could not refuse the steel undertone in the gentle voice. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Harry." He surveyed Harry, making sure that he held eye contact with the boy before continuing. "Can you tell me what the man in the vision looked like?"

Harry bit back the bile rising in his throat as he recounted the vision. "Erm, he was kind of heavy, thickset. Dark hair, I think, though I couldn't really tell. The whole place was dark. He was wearing a mask and robes, like the Death Eaters I've seen before."

"What exactly did Voldemort say to him?"

"Erm," said Harry, his palms curling around the edge of the table again. "He said that...that the man needed to be punished for his failure to bring me in. He said...Voldemort said...that it should've been easy to kidnap me since I had no protection. I think the man was trying to explain...but Voldemort cursed him again. That's all I can remember. "

Dumbledore's face was grave. "Thank you, Harry." He heaved a deep sigh, and Harry pondered just how old the man was. "Questions, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. "Sir? What was that curse he used?" He could still hear the man's screams in his mind. Death Eater or not, no one deserved to be in that much pain.

"The curse that Voldemort used is called the Cruciatus Curse. It puts a person in extreme pain and its use is legally forbidden, though Voldemort does use it to punish his followers."

"How...how did I get into his head? Sir?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore eyed the scar on Harry's forehead. "I am not certain," he said slowly, "but I think the scar from the Killing Curse links your minds somehow. Now that Voldemort has partially regained a body, it is easier for you to access his mind. I think your exposure to magic has also helped to strengthen the link."

Harry began to feel nauseous. "Does that mean...does that mean I'll be seeing what he does all the time? Can he see what I'm doing too?"

"I believe that right now the connection is only opened when Voldemort is feeling extreme emotion," said Dumbledore. "I do not think he is aware of the link yet. However, it would be wise for you to learn how to...block it off, so to speak."

"How do I do that, sir?" Harry asked desperately. He didn't fancy going into some evil maniac's head all of the time.

Dumbledore looked at Harry carefully. "The Potions professor at Hogwarts is skilled in Occlumency - the defense of a mind against external forces such as Voldemort's emotions."

"The potions professor? Professor...Snape?" Harry recalled.

"Yes." Dumbledore's face was unreadable. "Do you wish for him to teach you?"

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded vigorously.

"I shall ask him to begin training you after you've received your wand," said Dumbledore, his eyes glinting with something like triumph, though it disappeared as soon as Harry looked more closely. "Will you be able to wait until then?"

Harry nodded. Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George would probably feel uncomfortable with having a professor in their home during the holidays anyway. Plus, Occlumency might require a wand like the rest of the magic Harry had seen.

"Take care, Harry," said Dumbledore, and he stood, Flooing away to Hogwarts. Harry stared at the ash accompanying the departure, rubbing his scar as the vision played again in his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stop thinking about it, but the man's screams echoed over and over.

"Harry."

Harry started at the touch on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," said Hermione, looking at him in concern. "Do you want to join us in the living room? Fred and George have all of these wizarding sweets and I have chocolate, and Ron said he'd teach us wizarding chess and card games..." Hermione trailed off, looking guilty. "We were listening in on the conversation, but we're not going to ask you about it. Are you all right?"

Harry smiled despite himself. "I knew you were. And yes, I'm fine."

"So are you coming?"

Harry rubbed his eyes and glanced at Hermione's watch. "Isn't it a bit late?"

"Eight o'clock?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Right. Yeah." Harry really wanted to sleep, but he was afraid to close his eyes. "I'm a bit tired, but I'll - yeah. I'll come with you."

Hermione gave him a strained smile. "All right."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm so lousy at this," Hermione muttered, as the black knight on the chessboard brutally knocked down her white pawn.

"You're right about that, missy!" shouted her rook in a tinny voice. The pieces remaining on the board nodded and began shouting at her in a similar fashion.

Hermione glared at the animated figures, suppressing the urge to stick her tongue out. Wizarding chess was different from regular chess; the pieces actually moved and talked. Hermione supposed that it was like the moving wizarding photographs. Everything moved by itself in the magical world.

"Shut up," Ron growled at the white pieces. His own pieces were standing quietly; Ron was extremely good at chess, and they trusted him to make the right moves. "Damn...can't do that...might jeopardize the queen..."

Hermione's eyes wandered as Ron pondered his next move. The fire was roaring merrily, and in the corner was the grandfather clock whose hands bore the names of the Weasley family members and whose numbers were replaced by locations like "work," "home," and "traveling." On the floor, Ginny was explaining the different kinds of wizarding sweets to Harry and convincing him try a little of each one, while Fred and George sat on the sofa, racing to build card towers.

"No, no, don't topple -" Snap! George groaned as his card tower exploded in a haze of smoke, singing the top of his hair.

"Dear brother of mine, I do believe you must give me the last Chocolate Frog," Fred grinned. George sighed and handed the packaged sweet to his twin. The sweet croaked and hopped out of the wrapper, and Fred caught it easily, sticking its head in his mouth. "What d'you like so far, Harry?" he called.

Harry stuck a yellow jelly bean in his mouth and spat it out with a grimace. "Not the -" He turned the little blue bag over, reading the gold writing in the center. "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," he answered.

"What flavor did you get?" asked George.

"It was yellow. I thought it was lemon...but it tasted like earwax."

Fred snickered. "Every flavor means every flavor," he said. "I got a bogey-flavored one once. It was yellow-green. I thought it'd taste like pickles."

Hermione tried to fathom why anyone would want to eat a bean that tasted like pickles in the first place.

"Try a red one," said Ginny, handing Harry an innocent-looking reddish-pink bean.

Harry gingerly took a bite. "Strawberry," he nodded approvingly.

"Checkmate!" Ron suddenly crowed, and Hermione sighed as Ron's pieces cheered loudly, while her white pieces bowed down in defeat. "Good game," he said with a smile that lit up his whole face.

Hermione met his very blue eyes, felt her face burn for no reason, and hastily sat down next to Harry, taking out a sweet from the basket lying on the floor. "Fizzing Whizbee," she read, "float on the ground and scare your Muggle friends!"

"Oh, yeah, those make you levitate," said Ron, examining Hermione's box of chocolate with interest. "Where did you get this?"

"A friend of mine gave it to me," Hermione answered.

Ron lifted the lid and took out a piece of dark Belgian chocolate, popping it into his mouth. He raised his eyebrows. "It's good. Tastes exactly like Honeydukes' chocolate."

"What's Honeydukes?"

"Oh, it's this sweets shop in Hogsmeade - a village near school. Hey, Gin, come try a piece."

"Already have," Ginny replied, digging through the bag of Every Flavor Beans.

Hermione frowned. This was the second Christmas gift she'd received that could be found in the magical world. The astronomical model that could've been found in Diagon Alley was from Daniel, while the chocolate was from Richard. She remembered their odd behavior during their visit and the way they had randomly disappeared from the library. Could they actually be wizards? But that was impossible! If they were wizards, she'd never have met them at Witsford; they would've gone to Hogwarts. Unless two wizards had been disguised as Daniel and Richard when they'd come to Surrey....Harry had said that two Death Eaters had attacked him the day after the party, the day after her friends had left....No. No. Her friends had given her the Christmas gifts much earlier, and she was sure that they had left Surrey the day after the party. She hadn't seen a car pick them up, but....Hermione shook her head, refusing to let her thoughts go any further.

Perhaps the wizarding world just had equivalents to dark Belgian chocolate and lovely glass models of the solar system. After all, the wizarding world wasn't that much different from the normal one...there were still dishes and beds and books and chess sets and photos. Everything was just a little bit more interesting.

"Hey, are you going to eat that?" Harry asked, grinning.

Hermione handed him the Fizzing Whizbee still sitting in her hand. "You first."

Harry popped the sherbet ball into his mouth. Hermione squeaked as he floated up in the air for a few seconds, still in his sitting position, and then floated back down without a sound. Harry grinned broadly. "Brilliant. It tastes pretty good, too. Do you want one?"

"No, thank you," said Hermione. The only sweet she liked was dark chocolate. Her parents had drilled into her at a young age that too much sugar would lead to rotting teeth.

"All right." Harry flashed her a grin and tossed a Fizzing Whizbee to Ron. All traces of Harry's previous exhaustion were gone. In the firelight, he looked like any other fifteen-year-old boy enjoying a night in with his friends - nothing like the shy, painfully awkward student who had sat next to her in the Stonewall form room.

The living room was warm and comfortable. Hermione smiled. Although being at the Burrow could never assuage the guilt Hermione felt when she thought of the friends and family she'd left behind, it did ease the ache in her heart just a little.

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