Our Fathers

Chapter Eleven - Regret

When neither Sirius nor Harry reappeared after nearly an hour, Ron figured it was probably safe for him to go up to his room and lug the Christmas presents for his family back downstairs. He passed Percy's door - shut tight, and with the room's occupant likely hard at work on the Werewolf Reclassification Bill - and Ginny's room, but heard voices when he reached the third floor landing. He felt like a slimy Slytherin sneaking up on Harry and Sirius, but he certainly didn't want to interrupt anything important.

As he peered around the door, however, he decided he'd come at exactly the wrong time. Harry was still grinning, but Sirius was looking more uncomfortable than ever. "Alright, I've told you everything I've done this year... but I don't know if you were actually listening. What's wrong, Sirius?"

Ron knew he should've left to leave them to it, but some unknown force made him stay put. "Harry," Sirius started in a tone that reminded Ron strongly of the 'plugs and outlets' sex speech from his father over the past summer - hesitant and strained. "Harry, do you remember that talk we had the first time we met, at the Shrieking Shack? When we were taking Peter up to the school, before Remus transformed?"

Harry nodded, his grin growing wider if anything. "Of course I remember! You said that when you were freed, I'd get to come and live with you." Sirius winced and Harry's face suddenly melted in horror. "Wait... are you trying to tell me that you... you don't want me?"

"No!" Sirius replied, grabbing Harry's shoulder and giving a squeeze to emphasize what he was saying. "No, that's not it at all! I want that more than anything in the whole world. Ever since I escaped, I've been trying to do my best to look after you. I love you, Harry, and I will always wish that you could come live with me, but there's a horrible problem."

Harry had turned as pale as a ghost. "There can't be a problem. After Voldemort is gone -"

"Peter's dead," Sirius broke in. His voice cracked loudly and he looked away from Harry with an expression akin to shame. "Peter was the only proof we had of my innocence. I wanted you to come live with me when I was freed... but I'll never be freed."

"No!" Harry jerked away, shaking his head frantically. "We'll still get you out! Professor Lupin saw Peter - they could give him Veritaserum in court, and he'd tell them that Peter was alive, and he even confessed -"

Sirius slumped against the wall with a loud thump. "Remus is a werewolf."

"And what does that have to do anything?" Harry snapped. Ron barely restrained himself from jumping in and giving his opinion on the matter - of course it was important; he was nice enough as a man, but he turned into a bloody monster!

"It has everything to do with it," Sirius snapped back, looking to be on the edge of exploding into anger. "I know it's harder for you to understand this, since you were raised by the bloody Muggles, but just think for a moment - you know what the other students said when they found out what he was! You were there! People don't trust werewolves!"

Harry pulled back, retreating across the room to sit on Ron's bed. "It doesn't matter if they trust him or not, it's a potion that would make him tell the truth no matter what it was -"

"Except it can't be used as evidence in a court room because he's NOT A BEING!" Sirius shouted. Ron ducked back as Sirius jumped up and started pacing. He would be in so much trouble if he was caught... "Werewolves are beasts, Harry! Beasts! I know you care about him and he's never been anything else to you but a human, but that doesn't change what he is! Why else do you think Dumbledore sent you to the bloody Dursleys? You're not allowed to live with him, by wizarding law, otherwise you would've had a perfectly normal life and until Percy finishes that damned bill he's working on, Remus will still be a beast! Beasts cannot testify, beasts cannot adopt the children of beings, beasts are not given jobs, and people hate them!"

"I didn't know that," Harry said quietly. Ron chanced a peek around the doorframe and found Harry slumped against the wall, still sitting on Ron's bed, and Sirius collapsed on the floor by Harry's. Harry's face had gone back to the tired, gaunt expression of the past few weeks at school. "As you just said, I grew up with the Dursleys. There's no way I could've known that."

Sirius drew his knees up to his chest, looking to be no more than a frightened teenager rather than a grown man. "I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have yelled like that. The way werewolves are treated... it's something I've hated for years. British wizards are just terrible about it... he was born on the continent, you know, and bitten there. He's treated much better when he's there. I wondered if he stayed for James, sometimes." He gave a low sigh, cradling his face against his knees. "Look at me, going off about it again. I would've made a horrid father anyways."

Harry winced, but his face grew a bit more hopeful. "Will you still visit me in Hogsmeade? I don't know where Professor Dumbledore wants me to go over the summer, but maybe I could sneak out and -"

"I can't," Sirius cut in, looking away from Harry. "I'm being sent away from England. Dumbledore is playing Secret Keeper for me. I get fake papers and all... I only hope he's not sending me to Germany. My German is horrid." Harry didn't respond, his face a twist of horror and anger. Sirius kept talking anyways, perhaps to fill the long silence. "He's not told me where I'm off to yet, or I'd tell you myself. But he told Remus that when the war's over, you'll be able to come visit me, where ever it is. I might not look like myself - Lord knows what Albus wants to do to my face to disguise me - but I'm already looking forward to seeing you then. I bet you'll look just like James."

"When are you going?" Harry croaked. He swallowed and started biting his lip, trying to keep the tears from flowing. Ron winced and started backing away slowly, taking the stairs as quietly as he could. This was something he shouldn't be watching. It was wrong.

"The day after tomorrow," he heard Sirius reply before he ducked into Ginny's room.

"Ron!" she shrieked, throwing her quilt over a pile of half-wrapped gifts, "What are you doing?"

Ron turned around, face pale. "I heard - Sirius is leaving England - I shouldn't have -" He winced, trying to fight down the waves of guilt.

Ginny looked at him suspiciously, her eyes seemingly drawn over to the shut door after a moment. "Ron... where's Harry going to live...?"

"Nobody knows. Not with Sirius, I guess," Ron sighed. "I was going to go up to bed... do you think I should let him be alone?"

"No. I think he needs you. You're his best friend." Ginny didn't seem resentful of it, which rather surprised Ron as he thought she was still infatuated with Harry, but he supposed she was right. Harry probably did need him.

There was a shout followed by a creak on the steps and Ron turned to open the door a crack. He caught a glimpse of Sirius disappearing down the steps into the living room with his shoulders slumped defeatedly. Without bothering to say anything else to his sister, he slipped into the hall and closed the door, taking the steps up to the third floor two at a time.

He peeked around the door to find Harry still sitting on his bed. "Harry...?" he asked hesitantly. "Are you alright?"

Harry looked up miserably, not seeming to be embarrassed by the tears on his face. "Sirius is leaving," he whispered before dissolving into another sob. "And I yelled at him... but he's leaving England, Ron..."

At a loss for how to handle a crying Harry - it was usually Hermione who ended up in tears out of the three of them - Ron stood dumbly for a moment before deciding what to do. It was Harry, though. Harry was like a brother. So he'd be Harry's brother. He crossed the room and sat next to Harry on the bed and hugged him, just like Charlie and Bill used to do when Fred and George used to hurt him.

Christmas morning dawned grey and dreary. Ron woke with a start, blinking groggily and glancing around in confusion. His back hurt. He was sitting up. And his shoulder was aching and wet.

Ron turned to look over at his shoulder. He couldn't quite remember falling asleep, but it seemed as though he'd done so with Harry still slumped against him, as a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses were digging into his shoulder bone. As to his shoulder being wet... Harry was drooling. "Eww," Ron grumbled, grabbing Harry's available shoulder and shaking him fiercly. "Wake up, you wanker, you're drooling on my shoulder!"

Harry jerked awake as well, glancing over at Ron bleerily. "Wha...? Ron, why are you sitting on my bed?"

"You're on my bed," Ron countered. He jumped up and yanked his shirt off over his head, digging around under the bed to try to find a clean - and dry - one. "Fell asleep talking, I guess. My back hurts," he whined.

Blinking owlishly, Harry furrowed his brows. "What happened?" Remembrance hit him all at once and he blushed. "Hey, Ron? I'm sorry I went all..."

Ron blushed, too. He knew that dealing with emotion really wasn't his strong point. It was over, and while everything wasn't exactly right with the world, it looked a lot better in the morning. "Yeah. It's alright. Don't mention it." He pulled on his shirt and started piling the presents for his family into his arms as he thought about everything Harry had said the night before. Ron knew that the Dursleys were terrible, but Harry hadn't ever told him just how terrible before, or just how guilty Harry had felt when he'd been chosen as a Triwizard Champion, and Ron hadn't believed his innocence. And he hadn't known that Harry heard his mum and dad getting killed every time a dementor came near. And he hadn't known that the Sorting Hat had tried to put Harry in Slytherin. Harry hadn't told him how Tom Riddle looked almost identical to how Harry had matured, and that some of the teachers seemed to be afraid that Harry would be the next Dark Lord if they weren't careful, and he hadn't realized just how much Harry really hated being Harry Potter...

He'd known Harry for five years, but he hadn't known him. Ron had been just a little jealous for all five years of Harry's money and fame, things that Ron wanted more than almost anything... but he hadn't realized how jealous Harry was of him. After all, Ron had the one thing Harry hadn't had the chance to have. He had a family.

"Er... Happy Christmas," he said lamely, scuffing his foot. It seemed a rather ridiculous thing to say after Harry'd just been told that his godfather was being sent away and practically poured out his soul, but there wasn't much else he could do to try to cheer Harry up.

It seemed to help some, at least. A bleak smile pushed its way to the surface and, though he looked as depressed and mournful as ever, at least he didn't seem to be at death's door. "Happy Christmas, Ron. What time is it? I was hoping that maybe we could sneak downstairs and make some more of the potion before anyone else wakes up."

Ron frowned and glanced at the clock beside his bed. "It's still early. But Harry... I was meaning to talk to you about that. Maybe we should wait for a while. I mean, you took a double dose at dinner, and that's never a good idea -"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, you sould like Hermione. There's nothing wrong. I just want another dose before this one wears off. My scar starts to hurt the moment it does."

"Right," Ron sighed. He'd send off a note to Hermione with the potion's name, Hipnis or something, and maybe she'd be able to help find out side-effects. "I don't know if there will be enough time. How about after breakfast? Nobody will notice if we sneak downstairs after the presents are open, but they will if we're late to open them... besides, George won't wake up to help us right now. He's harder to wake up than Fred."

"Say, Ron... speaking of your family... have you made up with your dad yet? I mean, it's just a job." Harry got up and starting digging around in his bag, leaving Ron unable to see just what he was thinking.

He winced. In the flurry of activity of Christmas and trying to help Harry with his pain, he'd completely forgotten the things he'd said to his dad. Maybe he had gone a little far with it, but there was absolutely nothing which would make him admit that. "Maybe I'll talk to him." Maybe. It's not like he had to or anything. It was his father who'd condemned the family to poverty after all... but he'd said there was a reason for it...

Harry smiled weakly and climbed onto his own bed with a pile of presents for the Weasleys neatly wrapped - probably Hermione's doing - on his lap. Ron found he had nothing really to say about the whole debacle. Instead, he bustled around in the uncomfortable silence, restacking presents and setting out a roll of parchment for a letter to Hermione. Finally, Harry spoke, though the smile was entirely gone when Ron turned to meet his gaze. "Where am I going to go?"

Ron frowned and took a seat at his desk, shoving a pile of papers and clothes from the chair in order to do it. "Well... back to school, I'm assuming..." Of course, it took just an extra moment for Ron to realize what Harry was really talking about; a moment which left Ron feeling even stupider than usual.

"No, after the term," Harry corrected unnecessarily. "Dumbledore will never let me stay here for the whole summer, and I don't have anymore relations, I don't think. Or do I? I don't know anything about my dad's family."
He jumped on the topic, anything to keep Harry from thinking about Sirius. "Hey, there's an idea! I bet there's a whole load of geneologies at Hogwarts. Hermione will know where they are. Purebloods love geneologies! Maybe we can find a relative close by!" Ron spun around in his chair and started ruffling through the mess of papers littering the surface. "Let's see... in primary school, I had to write up a whole geneology for the teacher. Mum helped me on it, she loves things like that. She knows all about pureblooded families generations back! Her family used to be rich, you know - ran about with the likes of the Malfoys and the Averys and the Parkinsons for decades - but they fell out of favour in the 1800s and lost most of their money because they refused to practice the Dark Arts. And then there was a huge battle in... ergh, it was 1899, a huge wizarding battle. Some of Mum's relations were on the Light side and some had gone over to the Dark - one of them even married a stinking Malfoy! - but the Light won. However, Mum's family lost all their money when one of the bloody Malfoys married Mum's great-great aunt and then murdered her and covered it up. It sounds like it was wicked! And to think, I had ancestors who did all that!" He finally found the crumpled sheet of parchment and passed it to a slack-jawed Harry in triumph. "See? There you go! Weasleys on this side, MacDougals on this side - that's Mum's family. She's related to McGonagall's mum; in the same Scottish clan. Isn't that weird?"

Harry glanced up at Ron in awe. "How come you're so bloody horrid at History of Magic? You've got the whole history of magic just in your family tree!"

Ron could feel himself blushing. It wasn't often he got to impress Harry Potter, after all. "Well, lots of wizards are interested in family trees and such. It's because there are so few wizards compared to Muggles. Almost everyone's related one way or another and it's really important to make sure you don't end up shagging your second cousin or something."

"Eww. Ron, that's disgusting." Harry wrinkled his nose and stared down at the paper. "Yuck, you're related to Ernie MacMillan!"

Wrinkling his nose in response, Ron snatched the parchment back. "Ugh, you're right. I forgot about that... well, at least it's enough generations back that it doesn't matter. I'd hate to have to put up with him at a family reunion. Not that we see anyone on my dad's side anyway - you see, he was disowned! Exciting, isn't it?"

"Erm... yeah, exciting..." Harry frowned. "How does this all help me again?"

"Oh! Well, there's got to be someone who has a whole history of the Potters down somewhere. Your family's as old as my mum's. Well, my dad's is old too, but they were peasants until a few hundred years ago, so keeping geneologies wasn't so important to them. But since your family has money, I'll bet there are loads of people you're related to! Maybe you're even related to me!" Ron grinned and tossed the paper aside without bothering to see where it fell. He hopped up next to Harry and stretched. "I'll bet we can go downstairs and shake the presents. Want to write a note to Hermione first? I told her I'd send her one, but you could send one too."

A strangely closed expression crossed Harry's face. Ron wasn't sure what it meant. "Why don't you just add a postscript for me?"

Ron frowned and peered at his friend. "Well, I do realize she'll be here later, but why can't you write a letter? Just a Happy Christmas and all. It'll probably get there before lunch."

"My hands are shaking," Harry replied quietly.

Ron winced - it seemed all the good he'd done with going off about his mum's silly geneology obsession had been lost. His hands were shaking? "Is that something to do with the curse? Or with the potion?"

"It's not the potion," Harry snapped tiredly. "There's no problem with the bloody potion. It's the curse. After I See something, sometimes my hands shake for a bit. The potion's just blocking me from Seeing it. I bet Voldemort just killed someone." As if to emphasize the remark, a trickle of blood appeared, dripping from his nose. Harry winced and dabbed at it with his sleeve. "Aw, bloody hell... Ron, have you a handkerchief? Guess he's still torturing the poor git, whoever it is."

Ron fished out a mostly clean cloth from under the bed, trying not to focus on how easily Harry was taking all the deaths happening around him or on how much his hands were shaking as he wiped the blood away, or on how eerie it was to watch a bruise spring up around Harry's eye. Merry bloody Christmas.

Even one Weasley short, a tension between several members of the household, and the budget running particularly tight due to the mounting hospital bill, there wasn't enough wrong to keep Mrs. Weasley from making the Christmas of 1995 into the best it could possibly be. The stockings on the mantle were all stuffed to their fullest with homemade treats rather than expensive wizarding candy - though Ron knew he would sorely miss his annual gorging on Chocolate Frogs. The generous breakfast she cooked up before anyone was allowed to touch a gift - a tradition she steadfastly refused to break, even under the combined duress of Sirius, Bill, and Remus Lupin, oddly enough - consisted of less meat than ever before, though no one dared mention it. The conversation, though quite strained on several subjects, still managed to remain light and avoid the topic of the ever-more-fearful world. But the presents, Ron was pleased to discover, were as generous and lavish as his impoverished family could afford.

It was tradition for each Weasley child to open one gift at a time in order from youngest to eldest to let the others ooh and ahh over it before the next gift could be touched and, with the addition of three to the already-crowded living room, it promised to be a very long session indeed. The dread Weasley jumpers were first - well, dread to Ron, at least. Ginny went first, tearing happily into her annual purple jumper while Ron held his package with dread. He very hesitantly tore away the wrapping, squeezing his eyes shut in the process. It had been years since he'd spent Christmas at home, but he knew it would be the same... maroon... "Ron!" Harry hissed, "Just look at the bloody thing!"

With a wince of despair he was unable to hold back, Ron squinted... only to find himself holding a very nice, navy-blue jumper. Ron gasped loudly, promting a few chuckles from around the room. "Mum! But... isn't blue Percy's colour?"

Percy frowned in agreement and tore into his own parcel - out of order, the scoundrel, Ron mused. Out he pulled a tasteful royal blue jumper of his own. He sighed loudly in relief. Percy hated change - to be knitted a jumper in any colour other than blue would have been grounds for an Unforgiveable.

"Harry wrote me a letter telling me just how much you dislike maroon," Ron's mum explained, grinning slightly. Harry was giggling like a fool from his seat next to Lupin. "If you'd told me years ago, you could've had a navy blue jumper every year... I thought you'd like maroon because it matches Chudley Cannon Orange!" Mrs. Weasley winked.

"Oh, Mum... thank you!" Ron missed the point, of course, but pulled his new, NOT MAROON jumper over his head. The moment would be treasured, even if he would have to block out the laughter all around at the expression of pure bliss on his face. Yes, happiness was a navy-blue jumper.

Even Sirius and Lupin received their own jumpers. Lupin managed to look rather dashing in a lumpy, pale green one, while the highlight of the moment was the ridiculous dog-sized jumper that awaited Sirius in his package. It seemed Bill had shrunk it down as revenge for the first-year itching powder.

The rounds of presents continued. Ginny found mysterious looking chocolates in her package from Fred and George, which she promptly threw right back at them, while Ron found... "Look! New dress robes!" he crowed joyfully. Their mail order tricks must've been paying off, as they were much more expensive than even an entire year's worth of allowance should've accounted for. Lovely, navy-blue - a pattern there, Ron mused - and thankfully without a spot of lace. He noticed Harry grinning broadly, even as it came time for him to open his own box of tricks from the twins, but didn't think much of it.

Lupin and Sirius had gone in together on gifts for each of the Weasley children, as well. It sounded as though poor Ginny had received a diary, as a loud shriek came from her corner of the room and something black and book-shaped went sailing across the room. Obviously, Harry had neglected to mention the whole incident with Riddle's diary, years earlier - he was talking to Lupin while Percy and George tried to calm Ginny. Sirius just looked bemused at the whole thing.

Ron picked up his own present from the pair and examined the size and weight as he waited for Ginny to finish her hysterics - it really wasn't impressing Harry - and they could get on with it. It was strangely heavy for a palm-sized box... not that the gift itself seemed particularly odd. No, it was more the fact that a former professor was spending the holiday (Snape coming for dinner had been bad enough) and was being treated by Ginny and the twins as a favoured uncle. He suddenly had a horrid taste of what it might be like to be the newly orphaned Malfoy - Potions class would have to be hell.

"Ron? Are you going to stare at it or open it?" Lupin prompted. Thankfully jarred from disturbingly empathetic thoughts toward Malfoy, Ron grinned and tore into the little gift as Lupin offered a bit of an explanation. "Well, it's from Sirius and myself, of course... Padfoot's been clearing out his Gringotts vault with my help, I'm afraid."

"It's not as though I'll be able to use it again," Sirius added gruffly. Ron stopped unwrapping just long enough to sneak a glance at the Harry Situation. As expected, Harry had turned depressed while Sirius reminded him, unwittingly, of his departure. Harry was sitting on one side of Lupin and Sirius on the other, as if using the werewolf as a living buffer. They were certainly a melancholy pair.

He fought back a mournful sigh and finished tearing the paper open. Inside was a plain red box, the kind used to wrap jewelry. Ron lifted the lid curiously. "What is it?" Fred demanded, stretching to see around Ron's shoulder.

With deep reverence, Ron plucked the golden pocketwatch from the box, gaping in wonder. It was beautiful... 'RW' was engraved on the front cover and on the inside, the watch had a total of five delicate hands. Two told the hour and minute and the third the seconds, as a common Muggle watch did, but the fourth and fifth, resting below the time in a much smaller circle, were labelled "Harry" and "Hermione," and both were pointing on the tiny dial to "safely home." The dial was much like a simpler, smaller version of the prized grandfather clock displayed in the corner of the room. Rather than a dozen choices, as on the Burrow clock, the pocketwatch had only four: "safely home," "working hard," "travelling," and "in danger."

Ron was jolted from his private worship of the piece by Lupin. "I thought about getting one for Hermione, as well, but I found a copy of a book she'd been looking for... Keep it well, Ron. I know just how much I could've used one of those in 1981. One of those could've saved us all." Lupin's expression was full of guilt and regret. It struck Ron that, come the next day, Lupin would be the only one of his school friends left in England, and undercover in another country, Sirius Black would be as good as dead to him.

"I don't know what to say," Ron found himself murmuring. Location Watches were incredibly expensive - since it was a Muggle item, a special permit had to be obtained to create one, and the charms used to pinpoint th elocation of each person in question were incredibly complex. "This is just... it must've cost a fortune...!"

Lupin gave a loud snort. He climbed to his feet and crossed the room, leaving Harry and Sirius uncomfortable without their human buffer, and came to rest kneeling before Ron. "When it comes to protecting the three of you, I'd sell my soul to keep you safe. It is your job, Ron Weasley, to make absolutely certain that Harry's alright. If that hand points to danger, don't hesitate - turn around, tell Dumbledore, and send me an owl when you're done with that. I may not be allowed to take care of him myself, but I'm going to make damned sure that someone is doing the job for me."

Nodding weakly, Ron clipped the delicate chain to a belt loop and slipped the golden watch into his pocket. "I won't let him do anything too stupid. Well, stupider than usual."

Harry was blushing furiously as Lupin retook his seat. "I don't need to be looked after!" he hissed furiously.

"Maybe not," Lupin replied softly, "but it doesn't mean I don't worry. And I certainly care enough to worry."

Without warning, the indignation drained from Harry's face and turned to joy. He threw his arms around Lupin, prompting Ron to blush and look away. Ron noticed his brothers doing the same, though his mum was watching, teary-eyed.

To cover for the tender moment, Fred grabbed up his gift from Lupin and tore into it. His jaw dropped as he stared blankly into the box, ginerly lifting out a single piece of parchment. "George!" he moaned. "Look!"

George leaned over his twin's shoulder and let out a whoop of joy, which he quickly followed by tearing open his own gift. It appeared to be the same thing - a piece of paper - but he too went into near hysterics over it. "What in the name of Merlin is wrong with you two?" Mrs. Weasley demanded.

"Spells!"

"Important ones!"

"A tracking charm -"

"- and a signature charm! Are they... are they really...?"

"Where did you learn them in the first place?" Fred finished, peering at Lupin.

"Sirius was responsible for the creation of the signature charm - yes, the one from the map - but the tracking charm was my own invention... Now, those parchments are to be destroyed the moment you've memorized them. Those spells are top secret," Lupin grinned.

Mrs. Weasley's frown didn't seem to affect Lupin at all. "Did you just give them something to prank with?" she demanded.

"Of course not!" Sirius exclaimed. He and Lupin exchanged grins. "Those are to be used in the creation of trademarked Marauder products only, under the Weasley Wizard Wheezes brandname, of course. Top secret..."

The twins looked as though they'd died and gone straight to heaven. Percy rolled his eyes and crossed the room to give Lupin a gift out of turn, driving all the attention straight to him. He set a bundle of papers on Lupin's lap. "I put it into Councilman Bragge's box late last night. It will be presented to the Wizarding Council of Law on the morning of January the Third and voted on no later than April the Twentieth. Mr. Bragge expects nearly 52% of votes, conservatively. Unless someone is bitten this spring... you should be classified as a being by May the First. And, in that case, the last document in the pile may be quite helpful."

Lupin flipped to the last page and though Ron hadn't a clue what the document was, it sent the professor into tears. Harry tried to peek over Lupin's shoulder, but he slammed the document shut quickly. "Percy... oh, thank you, you've no idea what this means..."

Percy blushed and straightened his glasses. "Well, Councilman Bragge asked me to do it... he was impressed by my report on cauldron bottoms, and offered me a position as a bill writer if this one passes..."

And Percy kept talking... and talking... even as he opened his gift from Lupin (a book, of course) and as Bill opened his (a very large can of itching powder) but he finally let off when it was Harry's turn to open gifts. Lupin and Sirius had pitched in together to offer a shopping trip into London to find him clothes that actually fit. Sadly, Harry thanked Lupin profusely, but ignored Sirius. Ginny then opened her gift from Harry - she seemed to be in exstacy over it, though it was only a silly pair of socks. And finally it was Ron's turn again, and he tore into his own gift from Harry... a notebook?

"It was Hermione's idea," Harry put in quickly, noting the confusion on Ron's face. "She'll give you the other half later, we picked it out together... but it's a very special notebook! It's a NeverEnding NeatSheet. There's always as many pages as you need and it corrects spelling and grammar mistakes, and even makes messy writing legible." Harry grinned. "Got it for the last part, really. If I'm ever supposed to read the notes you write to me in Divination, you'll have to learn how to write properly."

Ron grinned back, of course - though the gift reeked of Hermione's influence, NeverEnding Notebooks were never cheap, and his handwriting realy was abominable... "Well, if you start hounding me to study for OWLs, I'll start calling you Hermione."

"You really should be studying already, Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley butted in. "The OWLs are -"

"- exceptionally important, and if you want to make something of yourself, you have to study!" the twins chorused. Mrs. Weasley and Percy wore identical expressions of disapproval, while Mr. Weasley chuckled softly.

Mrs. Weasley turned on them. "And you-! You two have NEWTs in June, and if your NEWT scorse are as abysmal as your OWLs, you'll never -"

A roar of green flame erupted in the fireplace and a large head suddenly appeared amid the flames. "Mr. Weasley? Arthur Weasley?"

Ron's dad leaned around the side of the chair. "Yes, Happy Christmas... I'm Arthur Weasley."

"It's about your son, Mr. Weasley. Please come to St. Mungo's."

Mr. Weasley had Apparated away almost before the doctor finished. And then the head was gone, too, leaving everyone else to wait nervously for more information. Ron only hoped it would be good.

Mere moments later, Mr. Weasley's face was the one appearing in the fireplace. "Charlie's awake! Charlie's okay!"