The Book of Morgan Le Fey

Chapter Four: Harry Comes to The Burrow

Harry arrived a few days later, also with Mr. Weasley.

He was looking rather fit, Ron thought, considering everything he'd been through at the end of term. The Muggles must have heeded Mad-Eye Moody's warning about their treatment of Harry. He was even wearing new clothes instead of his huge cousin's hand-me-downs. A pair of jeans and a polo shirt. His black hair was as untidy as ever and his green eyes had a sad, hollow look to them.

'Hiya, Harry,' Ron said when Harry entered the kitchen with Mr. Weasley. He clapped his best friend on the shoulder.

'Hi, Ron,' Harry said. He smiled.

'Hello, Harry!' said Hermione, in an overly bright voice. She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, which annoyed Ron for some reason.

Harry greeted everyone in turn before Bill offered to take Harry's trunk upstairs to Ron's room. Ron had--after numerous reminders from his mother--finally gotten around to tidying up his bedroom and making plenty of room for Harry to sleep there on a spare cot.

He helped Harry unpack, neither of them talking; Harry did not seem inclined to talk, so Ron just followed his lead. When all of Harry's clothes had been put away and his trunk tightly stored in Ron's cramped closet, they both stood up.

'So,' Ron said awkwardly. 'How...how was the trip here?'

'Not bad,' Harry said shortly, not looking at Ron. 'Nice car. Your dad's, I mean.'

'Yeah,' said Ron, feeling very uncomfortable. He seized on the only subject that he knew might keep Harry's mind occupied. 'So, uh, fancy a game of Quidditch?'

'Yes,' Harry said, sounding very relieved. 'I'll just change.'

'Right,' Ron said, picking up his Cleansweep and heading downstairs. He went outside to find the twins, Ginny and Hermione all standing there with brooms in hand.

'Oh,' he said, eying Hermione. 'You playing?'

'Yes,' she said, a bit defensively. 'I thought I might give it another go.'

'Okay,' Ron said, but he felt a rush of nervousness, remembering how Hermione had fallen from her broom the other day, how she had trembled so violently when he caught her.

'I'm fine,' Hermione said firmly, noticing his worried expression. 'It's like my dad said. You fall off a bike, you get back up and try again.'

'Fall off a what?' George asked.

'A bike,' Hermione said. 'A bicycle. You know, a two-wheel--' She broke off in exasperation, and Ron felt his mood improve immediately. He always got a laugh out of Hermione trying to explain Muggle things to them.

'Just think of your father's car, but with two wheels--'

'We KNOW what a bike is,' Fred said, in a dramatically overwrought, offended voice. 'We're not STUPID.'

'Well, you could have fooled me!' Hermione retorted, glaring at him. George whistled, impressed.

'Ouch, Hermione,' said Fred, mocking the movement of a knife to the heart. 'That's cold, that is.'

'Hey.' They turned and saw Harry cross the yard toward them, carrying his Firebolt. Ron gazed at the broom with envy. True, his Cleansweep was a pretty good broom, but nothing compared to Harry's Firebolt.

'Hermione, you're playing?' said Harry, with a bemused and startled look on his face.

'Yes,' she said, even more defensively. 'Why is everyone so shocked that I'm playing Quidditch?'

'I dunno,' Harry said, grinning. Hermione rolled her eyes and mounted her broom and kicked off, rising into the air.

She looked much more confident today than she had earlier in the week, and Ron wondered if she had somehow managed to practice on it when he hadn't been looking. But that would have meant she'd practiced in the middle of the night, because they had spent nearly every waking moment together, either helping Mrs. Weasley in the garden or just hanging around outside in the back yard.

Ron mounted his Cleansweep, and soon everyone was up in the air on broomsticks. Charlie had gone back to Romania, so Bill took his place, keeping goal. Ginny and Harry agreed to alternate as Chaser for their side, and Hermione took Chaser against Ron.

The game commenced. Ron blocked most of Hermione's scoring attempts, some of them with great difficulty. She was in a very different mood today--all trace of nervousness seemed to have vanished, and she was flying aggressively, putting on speed and swerving and banking hard in all directions. She was still flailing about a bit but she didn't seem to notice; there was a fierce determination on her face, and as the day wore on, her face became covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Harry, meanwhile, flew as magnificently as ever, and Ron felt a rush of envy again. Harry had not flown in almost a year, not since his broom was confiscated by Umbridge after Gryffindor's first Quidditch match last fall; and he certainly wouldn't have been able to practice while staying with the Muggles, but he was still able to fly as though he'd never missed a day. Ron, meanwhile, had been practicing daily and still wasn't as good a flyer. Harry was the natural, Ron thought, with a flash of annoyance, as he swatted at Hermione's Quaffle, knocking it away from the goal hoop.

The game continued for what seemed like several hours, and it was a strangely quiet game, Ron realized. Nobody seemed to be doing much talking, or even cheering. Everyone seemed to be following Harry's lead, who maintained an intense focus on what he was doing and seemed to notice little else.

Finally in the late afternoon Mrs. Weasley bellowed out to them to come eat something, and they called it quits. They were all dusty and sweaty--the day had become very hot--as they entered the house, and Ron knew it would be another battle for the showers. This time, he thought, I don't care if it's icy cold. I'm boiling to death.

He poured himself an enormous glass of what he initially thought was pumpkin juice, but when he looked at it he saw that it was a clear, deep amber liquid.

'What's this?' he asked, looking at it dubiously.

'It's tea, dear,' Mrs. Weasley said brightly. 'Iced tea. The Americans drink it all the time on hot days, I thought I'd try it.'

'Iced tea?' Ron repeated, incredulous.

'I've had it,' said Hermione. 'It's very refreshing.'

'Is there any weird foreign food you HAVEN'T tried?' Ron asked, sniffing at the iced tea in his glass.

Hermione merely smiled, pulling the elastic from her ponytail and letting her damp, sweaty hair fall free. She poured herself a glass of the iced tea and downed it in one, then poured herself another. 'This is lovely, Mrs. Weasley, thanks.'

She picked up another glass and poured one for Harry and handed it to him, which annoyed Ron for some reason. Ron gave one more sniff at the iced tea in his own glass and sipped it.

The tea wasn't bad, but it needed sugar. He got out the sugar bowl and dumped half the contents into his glass and stirred it with a spoon.

'Ron!' Hermione scolded. 'You're going to rot your teeth.'

Ron grinned (Hermione's parents were dentists, apparently a Muggle profession that dealt with teeth). 'Well, I'll just call your Mum or Dad or something and have them fix them.'

Hermione rolled her eyes.

'I'm going to have a shower,' Ginny announced, bounding up the stairs.

'Don't use all the hot water!' Fred bellowed at her. She waved at him and disappeared up the stairs. 'Girls,' Fred went on. 'I swear she spends more time in that bathroom primping than anyone I've ever met. What is it about girls and bathrooms?'

Hermione exchanged looks with Harry and Ron, all thinking about Moaning Myrtle, still haunting the second floor girls' bathroom at Hogwarts.

'So, Hermione,' said George conversationally, screwing up his face at his iced tea and following Ron's example of adding copious amounts of sugar to it, 'you're not bad at Quidditch, you know.'

'You are pretty good,' Harry said.

'You ought to try out for the team, actually. We need two Chasers this year,' Ron said, without thinking.

Hermione's cheeks, already brown from the sun, flushed pink. Ron's stomach flip-flopped again, and he took a big gulp of tea but missed, spilling half of it down his front. Fred and George sniggered at him, and he gave them a withering look.

'I never thought I'd see Hermione play Quidditch,' Harry was saying, with arched eyebrows. 'I thought Quidditch was just a silly game.'

'Well, it IS just a game,' Hermione said defensively. 'I mean, it's fun of course, but it's hardly the greatest thing in the world, is it?'

Fred, George, Harry and Ron all exchanged looks.

'Put it to you this way, Hermione,' George said. 'There are two great things in this life.'

'Three things,' Fred corrected.

'No, four,' George corrected. 'One is eating. Two is sleeping. Three is Quidditch. And four...oy, how do I explain four?'

Fred had a devilish grin on his face. 'Let's just say that without number four nobody would be around to do one, two and three.'

'And I might also add, by the way,' said George, 'that number four is more often than not number one, followed by Quidditch.'

'Although Quidditch can be number one on occasion,' said Fred. 'But if it happens that Quidditch is number one, it usually means you're not getting any of number four. Actually, that's true of everything else besides number four.'

'Right,' said George. 'So basically, number four is always number one in terms of priorities, but sometimes in reality it becomes number two or number three--'

'Or, sadly, even number four,' finished Fred.

'What the hell are you two talking about?' Ron asked, exasperated.

'Yeah,' said Harry, annoyed.

'Obviously these two have never had number four,' George said, nodding at Fred and smirking.

'Oh, please,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes. 'I know what you're talking about, and you're pigs, both of you.'

'Ouch, Hermione,' said Fred, laughing. 'Give us a break, now. All men are pigs from time to time, aren't they?'

'Harry and Ron aren't,' Hermione said indignantly.

George gave a derisive snort. 'Trust me,' he said, 'they are.'

Ron felt his face go hot; he had just worked out what 'number four' meant. His eyes caught Harry's, who was also blushing, and Ron guessed that Harry had figured it out, too. Hermione looked at both of them and threw up her hands in disgust.

'Boys,' she muttered.

'Men,' Fred corrected, throwing a wicked glance at Ron and Harry. 'Well, maybe not in Ron's case.' Fred ran his fingers along his very scratchy face, which he had not bothered to shave today, and shot Ron a smug smile.

'Shut up,' Ron snapped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few weeks passed rather quickly. The days fell into a very predictable routine, but nobody seemed all that desirous to break it.

In the mornings they ate the hearty breakfasts Mrs. Weasley cooked, then helped her with the dishes and with a little cleaning up around the house. In the afternoons they played Quidditch. In the evenings they ate dinner, shared some polite and occasionally amusing conversation that always had a pall of strain over it, and all of them went to bed early.

Harry had been particularly terse, barely saying a word unless absolutely necessary. As Ron had expected, Hermione immediately began to pester him about talking to Harry, telling Ron that it wasn't healthy for Harry to go round bottling up his feelings. Ron countered that it wasn't his place to pressure Harry to talk about something he, Harry, didn't appear keen to discuss, and that Harry ought to be the one to bring up Sirius or anything else, not Ron or Hermione. Hermione shot back that maybe Harry DID want to talk about it, but wanted one of them to make the first move. And back and forth it went, with Ron finally insisting that Hermione drop it or he'd stop speaking to her altogether. She did, but now she had taken to giving Ron murderous looks at mealtimes and during Quidditch matches, and she played harder than ever, hurling the Quaffle not so much to score goals but, Ron thought, to hit him with it.

Ten days before the summer holidays ended, Ron went down to breakfast to find Harry sitting at the table between Ginny and Hermione. Ginny's long red hair was messy and loose, but Hermione had hers in a long braid. She looked refreshed and awake, and she smiled at him.

'Good morning, Ron,' she said brightly. What was she so cheerful about? he wondered sourly. He had not slept well last night, he realized.

'Morning,' he answered. Hermione's smile faded a bit. She swallowed and poured herself some pumpkin juice for herself, then took Harry's glass and filled it, and for some reason this annoyed Ron immensely. He strode around the table and sat next to Ginny.

Breakfast was hurried this morning, in part because Fred and George announced they were leaving to open up the shop for the day. Just as they got up from the table to go change, a large screech owl hooted and soared into the kitchen, a small bag attached to its leg.

'Got it, Mum,' Ron said through a mouthful of toast. He untied the bag from the owl's leg, removed the letters inside, and re-attached the bag, with a Knut inside, to the owl's leg. It hooted once, and took off again.

'What is it dear?'

Ron gulped. "Uh, Hogwarts letters," he said, feeling his face get hot. 'And...uh, O.W.L. results, looks like.'

'Well, it's about time!' Mrs. Weasley said. 'I thought they'd never get back to us.'

Hermione stood up from the table like a shot, nearly knocking over her pumpkin juice.

'Oh!' she cried. 'I forgot about those!'

'YOU forgot about O.W.L. results?' Harry asked, smirking, and then he smiled at her. Hermione smiled back at him sheepishly. Ron scowled.

'Well, let's see,' said Mrs. Weasley. She took the letters from Ron and passed them out to Harry, Ginny, Hermione and finally back to Ron. Hermione and Ginny tore theirs open hurriedly. For Ginny there would be nothing more than a booklist.

Hermione looked positively petrified of her envelope. Her face was white as she tore it open and pulled several pieces of parchment from it. A red and gold prefects' badge was tucked inside the envelope as well.

'Prefect again,' she said, but her voice was tight and she didn't seem to care about it. She put the badge down and unfolded the parchment, and her eyes scanned it rapidly. As they did, the color slowly returned to her cheeks.

'Well?'

'Mum and Dad will be happy,' she said, looking very relieved.

'What'd you get?' Harry asked. His own letters were in his hand, unopened.

'O's in everything,' Hermione said, blushing slightly and trying to sound modest. 'Twelve in all.'

'Wow,' said Harry and Ron together, both very impressed.

'Hermione, that's...that's incredible!' Mrs. Weasley said happily, hugging her. 'Your parents will be beside themselves, they'll be so proud. And prefect again!'

'You're a lock for Head Girl at this point,' Harry pointed out, beaming at her. She smiled back, and Ron scowled. I wish they'd stop doing that, he thought irritably.

'Harry' Mrs. Weasley asked. Apparently she was saving Ron for last.

'Okay,' said Harry, looking slightly pale as he opened his letter. He scanned it for a moment, then announced. 'Uh, A in...Divination. A in Astronomy. O in Potions...no way! E in History of Magic. O in Care of Magical Creatures. E in Transfiguration. E in Herbology. E in Charms. And... O in Defense Against the Dark Arts.'

'That's wonderful, Harry,' said Mrs. Weasley, hugging him as well. Then she turned to Ron.

'Well, Ronnie, your turn.'

'Uh, right," said Ron, and he opened up his letter. A red and gold prefect badge fell from it and he caught it.

'Oh, good, prefect again!' said Mrs. Weasley, pleased. Ron let out a breath he wasn't aware of holding. Well, he thought, my marks can't be that bad if I got prefect again.

He looked over his scores. 'Lessee,' he said nervously. 'A in Herbology, E in Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures. A in Divination. O in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Cool! A in History of Magic. A in Astronomy. E in Charms. And...O...in potions.' Ron blinked. This couldn't be right. He never expected his marks to be this good. He read the results again and swallowed.

'Those are very good marks, Ron!' Mrs. Weasley said happily. 'You'll have to study very hard for your N.E.W.Ts, though, you know. Those are really important for your future careers.'

Ron nodded, reading over his scores again, not quite convinced they were his. Maybe he had what it took to be an Auror after all. He glanced at Harry, who was thinking the same thing, and they grinned. Then Ron looked at Hermione. He knew that half the reason he'd done so well was because of Hermione's help last year. He looked up and gave her a grateful smile, and she smiled back. He felt a light flip-flop in his stomach.

'Okay, give me your book lists,' Mrs. Weasley said. 'Just think, Ginny, it's your year for O.W.L.s!'

'Yeah, great,' said Ginny unenthusiastically, handing over her booklist. 'I can hardly wait.'

Mrs. Weasley kissed them all, pulled out her wand, announced 'I'm off, be back later!' and with a loud CRACK she Disapparated.

'Well, that's over,' said Hermione, looking very relieved. 'Both of you did very well.'

'Better than you thought, you mean?' Harry said wryly.

'We wouldn't have done so well without all your help,' Ron said sincerely.

'Maybe this year you'll start taking your own notes in History of Magic, then?' Hermione said, crossing her arms.

'Do we have to?' Ron asked, smiling, and she rolled her eyes, but her lip was upturned in a grin.

'I wonder who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher will be,' Ginny said.

'Whoever it is, he or she can't be any worse than that Umbridge troll,' Ron said darkly.

'Unless it's Snape," Harry pointed out. 'Then again, maybe Dumbledore should just let Snape have the job. Then we wouldn't have to deal with him in seventh year.'

'Harry," Hermione said in a warning voice, 'Dumbledore--'

'Trusts Snape,' Harry finished, his voice hard. 'Yeah, I KNOW, all right? You've told me a thousand times.'

'Harry, there's no need to--' Hermione began.

'Has it ever occurred to you, Hermione,' Harry interrupted, his voice rising, 'that maybe Dumbledore isn't perfect? That maybe the old goat makes mistakes from time to time?'

'Harry!' Hermione looked shocked.

'What?' Harry shot back, glowering at all of them. 'I'm not allowed to say that the great Dumbledore is less than perfect? Because he's not perfect. He's not perfect, my dad wasn't perfect, Sirius wasn't perfect, and god knows I'm not perfect. Maybe if I'd just listened to you last year...' His voice trailed off and he turned away.

Hermione bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears. Ginny glanced at Ron with a sad expression on her face. She and Hermione both moved closer to Harry, who was standing very still and looking resolutely to the floor. Ron's feet felt like lead--he knew he should try and comfort Harry but somehow, he just couldn't move. He just couldn't bring himself to confront Harry with the terrible events of last term.

'Harry, it's not your fault,' Hermione said in a very small voice.

'Yeah, I'm sure you tell yourselves that constantly,' Harry said bitterly, his voice cracking.

'It's not!' Hermione said fiercely. 'Voldemort tricked you. You didn't force us to come with you.'

'Yeah, well, maybe you should rethink hanging around me, if it's going to make you do stupid things like follow me into a room full of Death Eaters,' Harry said glumly, running a hand through his untidy black hair.

'Stop it!' Hermione said shrilly. 'Don't you dare say something like that! You're not going to push us away or get rid of us. Ron and me, and Ginny, too, we're not going anywhere. If you don't like it, that's just too bad. But you can't face what's coming by yourself and you had better stop thinking you can. You have to stop--'

'Playing the hero?' Harry asked sadly, looking up at her, but there was no trace of anger in his voice now. Ron swallowed and felt a horrible weight in his chest. He had never seen Harry look so defeated. He made a move toward Harry, thinking to put a hand on his shoulder, but Hermione moved in first.

Tears streaming down her face, she put her arms around Harry's shoulders and hugged him tightly. Harry's arms hung limply by his sides for a moment, and then he buried his face in her hair and put his arms around her. Ron knew he was struggling not to cry.

Watching them, Ron felt a hollow ache start in his chest and spread to his stomach. He wasn't sure why seeing them like this felt painful. He only knew that he suddenly could not watch them anymore. He caught Ginny's eye.

'I'll just...make tea,' he said lamely, heading for the stove.

'I'll help,' Ginny offered, and followed him away from Harry and Hermione, who stood still as statues, hugging in the middle of the kitchen.