The Interlude

Chapter 4: Revolution Never Comes With a Warning

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fleur, and Mrs. Weasley spent a tense night in the living room, sometimes nodding off on each other's shoulders and sometimes sitting up and watching the fire and doors with rapt attention. Bill and Charlie had wandered off into the night to search for the source of the stray explosive while Mr. Weasley and Percy had gone to seek information from the Ministry and Fred and George left to speak with people in the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley, leaving the rest of them feeling quite cut off from the world, alone, and useless. Indeed, it seemed that there only meter by which they could judge the situation was Mrs. Weasley's charmed clock, which reported that all of the Weasleys were either at home, at work, or traveling, and no one was in mortal peril, but they still didn't feel very reassured.

They couldn't count the number of times they'd been in this position in recent times: waiting for someone to come along and tell them that a fight was coming, or that it was all just a harmless prank, or any information at all.

They settled back into their old roles with an eerie ease, talking and pacing and arguing and assuring like the war still wasn't over, for maybe it wasn't, maybe they had been foolish to think that the war would end with Voldemort. Harry found his thoughts drifting perpetually to that list in Saint Mungo's and wondering how many Death Eaters remained unaccounted for and sometimes, horribly, to the Horcruxes to wonder if they had somehow gotten one wrong.

Bill and Charlie returned barely an hour after leaving with very little to report. They'd found the site where the explosive was launched from without much trouble, but there was no one around to question. The only thing that ensured they weren't in the wrong place was a strange wire stand, which, by their description, Hermione said resembled a device Muggles use to launch model rockets. They all heaved a sigh of relief at this revelation, for Death Eaters were very unlikely to use Muggle inspired technology, but it was far from enough to put them at ease.

Fred and George returned when the time was inching toward two in the morning. Apparently, what they'd seen from the Burrow was only one of at least ten displays that all occurred within an hour of each other around all of England, and, while none of it had caused any damage, every instance was located near a large magical celebration. It didn't take long to deduce that an organized group was behind this, and that they were looking for attention.

The sun had already crept over the horizon and Mrs. Weasley was dutifully preparing breakfast by the time Mr. Weasley and Percy returned. Mr. Weasley sank immediately into the nearest chair, looking annoyed and exhausted. It seemed as though Percy supposed he ought to be feeling the same way, but couldn't bring himself to look it.

"Let me guess," Ron muttered. "They didn't even realize anything was wrong until you two showed up."

"Got it in one," Mr. Weasley sighed, gratefully accepting a cup of coffee from his wife. "Then straight after that they tried to say it was nothing to worry about, just a stray firework. Of course, that only lasted until Gilbert Wimple came along and said he'd seen the same thing in Kent."

"And that convinced them?" Hermione pressed.

"It helped," Mr. Weasley replied. "We spent the rest of the night trying to gather as much information as we could, but I think we've hit a dead end. Unless someone steps forward and takes responsibility we won't know who did this or why. At any rate we only came back to tell you what we know, we can't stay for long."

"Oh, well, at least have some breakfast," Mrs. Weasley said, piling two plates high with toast, eggs, and bacon and sliding them in front of Mr. Weasley and Percy.

Everyone else joined them at the table and they ate in a stony silence that was only broken by the clank of forks on plates and the rustle at the window of a barn owl carrying the Daily Prophet. Fred stood up to retrieve the paper and pay the owl, and then threw the paper down on the table. The usual edition was complete with a rushed extra page about the explosions, which Hermione picked up and read aloud. It artfully suggested that the explosions were a usual part of the post war celebrations. Scrimgeour was even quoted as saying, "While we don't yet know the origin of these extra fireworks, the public can rest assured that there is no danger." Hermione was positively fuming when she reached the end of the article.

"I expect the Minister was just trying to make sure there wasn't a...panic," Percy offered, trailing off when he noticed the glares of his family.

A rather stilted and nervous debate followed, but it soon eased into a more comfortable conversation. As convinced as they were that these explosions were only a precursor to something much bigger, the threat of it felt much diminished in the bright morning light. When Mr. Weasley and Percy decided that they couldn't put off returning to the Ministry any longer, their farewells were almost jovial, and when Hermione announced her intention to spend the day in Diagon Alley, no one could concoct a convincing argument for her to stay. No one, that is, except Harry, who caught up with her on the stairs.

"You're going to go research what happened to Ron?" he asked carefully.

"I promised I would," Hermione replied stiffly, pulling open the door to Ginny's room.

"Can't it wait a few days?" Harry pressed. "Just until we're sure of what those explosions were all about?"

"Do you really want Ron to sit around with an arm he can't use just because we're too afraid to go outside?" Hermione demanded.

"Of course not," Harry stammered. Hermione's question had struck a rather painful nerve. "But if those explosions were really about something serious..."

"They might not be," Hermione snapped. "Don't you understand? Ron needs a cure, he can't do magic.

"He what?" Harry breathed, scarcely daring to believe what he'd just heard.

"We noticed a little after he woke up in Saint Mungo's," Hermione explained. "And he asked me not to tell anyone, so you have to keep this a secret."

"Alright," Harry replied, his hands shaking so viciously that he had to stuff them in his pockets to avoid notice. "Just hold on for a minute." And with that he raced off up the stairs.

When Harry got back, Hermione had just finished stuffing parchment, quills, and ink in her book bag. He tossed his invisibility cloak on top.

"What would I need that for?" Hermione asked, gazing up at him.

"Because that spell Voldemort did on Ron was the most powerful bit of dark magic I've ever seen," Harry replied. "And it's not going to take you long to decide that you won't find what you're looking for in Diagon Alley."

"That doesn't mean I'll need an invisibility cloak," Hermione retorted.

"They're not going to take kindly to you in Knockturn Alley," Harry explained.

"Because I'm Muggle-born?" Hermione spat.

"Maybe," Harry replied. "Maybe because everyone knows you're my friend. Maybe because you're just too good for anyone to mistake you for a dark witch. War or peace, day or night, Knockturn Alley draws the wrong sort of crowd."

"I can handle myself," Hermione said.

"I know, but just in case," Harry replied.

"Oh, alright," Hermione sighed, stuffing the cloak in to her book bag.

"Would you like me to come with you?" Harry said. "I could help you research."

"Harry, you are easily the most recognizable wizard in all of England," Hermione laughed. "If I take you along I'll never get anything done."

"Alright," Harry sighed, giving her arm a squeeze. "I hope you find it."

Hermione nodded and left.

***************

Harry spent a surprisingly carefree day with half an ear trained on the wizarding wireless and the rest of his attention on the chess board, where he was soundly beaten several times by both Ron and Ginny. However, no matter how much he was enjoying himself he couldn't shake the niggling feeling of guilt and astonishment whenever he looked at Ron. He seemed so like himself. Aside from the white bandages on his right hand that extended under his sleeve to his shoulder and the way his numb arm was draped not quite naturally over his knee, he seemed so normal. Harry could scarcely believe that he'd been hiding his inability to do magic all this time. Harry had spent nearly half his life defining himself by his magic, and for Ron it had been even longer. He couldn't imagine what it was like to lose something so fundamental.

Hermione returned in the late afternoon, looking a bit cross eyed and very much empty handed. She gave Harry and Ron a reassuring look as she settled down on the couch next to Ron and began looking over her notes.

Ron gave her a few minutes before growing impatient and demanding, "Did you find anything?"

"I have a few ideas," Hermione replied. "I found a few curses that match some of your symptoms, but nothing that covers all of them."

She shot a meaningful look at Ron then glanced to Harry and Ginny. Noticing this, Ginny cast a confused look at Harry and he tried to look like he didn't know what Ron and Hermione had just communicated.

When Harry belatedly realized that Ginny would have him checkmated in five moves, Ron decreed that they should all play some Exploding Snap. It was a rather more exciting game than usual because, out of fairness to Ron, they all agreed to play with their right arms behind their backs and therefore were much clumsier than usual. Cards quiet often went flying out of their circle, occasionally propelled by their own explosions.

Mid way through their fifth round, Mr. Weasley came in through the back door and sank wearily into a nearby chair.

"Catch anyone yet, Dad?" Ron asked off handedly as Ginny jerked her hand out to claim the deck only to pull it away again when it burst into flames.

"I was just speaking with Ted Tonks," Mr. Weasley sighed. "Nymphadora's father."

All four of them looked up from their game.

"How is he?" Hermione asked sadly.

"We actually didn't talk about Nymphadora very much," Mr. Weasley said slowly, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "He turned himself in to the Ministry."

"For what?" Ginny asked, eyes narrowing.

"For being part of the group that caused the explosions last night," Mr. Weasley sighed. Harry noticed that he kept on glancing edgily at Hermione.

"Well, that's good, right?" Ron asked warily. "That he turned himself in?"

"He said turning himself in was part of the plan all along," Mr. Weasley replied. "It's their way of making sure we know what they want."

"But he can't be a Death Eater," Hermione sputtered. "Because he's a..."

"He's Muggle-born," Mr. Weasley confirmed.

They all paused for a moment while the magnitude of that statement sunk in.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said carefully, "what do they want?"

"Equal rights," Mr. Weasley sighed, "for all Muggle-borns."

"I don't understand," Ron blurted, "they've already got it, why would they-"

"And Malfoy always called me 'Mudblood' because it's a term of affection, did he?" Hermione spat. "This is great! Someone's actually campaigning for Muggle-born rights. Maybe the Goblins will get inspired and start demanding their own rights, maybe even the House Elves..."

She trailed off when she noticed that no one else was sharing her enthusiasm.

"Don't you see?" Hermione demanded. "After this purebloods like the Malfoys won't be able to hold anything over us."

"This isn't as good as you think, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said slowly.

"You don't know what it's like to be called a Mudblood," Hermione yelled. "What it's like to be looked down on just because of your parents."

"I seem to remember a song that said, 'The Weasleys were born in a bin,'" Ron said softly.

This seemed to calm Hermione down a bit and Harry jumped in.

"We're not saying that they're not asking for the right kind of change, but think about it. That wasn't a friendly demonstration last night. They're going about this all wrong. I think that Mr. Weasley was about to tell us that this isn't a campaign, it's a crusade."

"He's right," Mr. Weasley confirmed. "Several families of known Death Eaters have already received threats. The trouble is, muggle-borns make up a significant part of the population. Not all of them can be involved in this and we don't know who specifically these threats are coming from."

"What can we do about it, then?" Ron asked.

"That's the question," Mr. Weasley admitted.