Commencement

The toothless old man gave a wry grin as he filled the motor of the boat with a strange, dark fluid.

"That's gasoline," Hermione explained to me under her breath. She must've seen the confused expression on my face. "Muggles use it as a compensation for magic--it makes motors run. You really should've taken Muggle Studies."

I nodded in agreement, if only to appease her. She was constantly reminding me how much I could've known, had I taken the right courses. But I never could have received as good marks in Muggle Studies as I did predicting death and disasters in Divination.

"Very few people have ever rented this shack," the old man said to Harry. "About seven or eight years ago there was a family. Odd group. I think they were running from the law or something."

"Or something," Harry murmured with a grimace.

"But ever since then I've only had a few people come to the island." He finished pouring the gasoline and handed Harry the keys.

"Thanks," Harry said, climbing into the boat.

Hermione followed, wrapping her bulky sweater more tightly around her. It was horribly cold for June, and the wind was fierce. The grey water was icy and choppy, and the last thing I wanted to do was travel to a remote island. "Come on, Ron."

I stepped into the boat, wondering why on earth we hadn't just apparated there instead. For a moment I worried that maybe Hermione didn't want me to--sure, we'd all passed the test. But it wasn't something I was altogether consistent about.

"Want to start the engine?" Hermione asked me.

"W-why don't you do it?" I asked her. Leave it to two Muggle-raised wizards to mock my inexperience.

Hermione tutted. "You should learn Muggle ways, you know. It was Dumbledore's wish. The best thing for the wizarding world is to fully understand the Muggles and be able to function normally in their world."

Harry laughed. It was the first time I'd heard him do so in a long time. "You sound like a text book, Hermione. Maybe if you're lucky, someone will hire you to write a new edition of Hogwarts, a History."

They showed me how to start the engine (if you ask me, it'd be a heck of a lot easier to use a spell) and then we were off.

"At least there's a motor this time," Harry said softly. "When I was here last time, I had to row. Imagine a scrawny eleven-year-old having to row with Dudley in the same boat."

I snorted. Certainly Dudley couldn't have been that big--but I'm sure his proportion to Harry had always been the same. Adding Vernon Dursley (and his wife) would've just made it worse for Harry.

Hermione leaned close to me, using me as a shield from the wind. I could hear her teeth chattering. "You want my jacket?" I asked softly.

She shook her head and pulled a small jar out of the book bag that rested by her feet. It was the old jam jar containing a bright blue flame--the same jar as she'd used our first year at school. We both placed our hands over it, enjoying the warmth. She offered it to Harry as well, but he declined.

"Why exactly are we coming here?" I asked for the tenth time.

Harry shrugged. "I wanted to come back to the beginning."

The rest of the trip was silent. Harry seemed to be in his own little world, and Hermione's gaze rarely lifted from the choppy water. It was strange, knowing that the whole wizarding world was celebrating the dawn of a new era, now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had met his downfall. They were embracing a new life that seemed worry-free in comparison to the last twenty years or so. Yet among those who had fought to bring this new beginning, there was a heavy silence. Neville had parted with few words; the professors at Hogwarts were grim about facing the new approaches the Ministry of Magic wanted in dealing with the Muggle world. Those who had seemed impenetrable had suffered great losses. Mum had been quick to remind us all that although we had lost a lot in our own lives, we secured the futures of our children--something her own generation had not been able to do.

I knew the losses were worth it. There was no way I could look at Harry and Hermione and not be grateful that things had happened the way they had. With so many chances to lose what was most important to me, I couldn't help but thank fate for the way some things turned out.

Hermione covered my hands with her own, smiling as though she were reading my mind. Of course, with her I had to wonder if maybe there was some kind of mind-reading spell that she'd mastered. I could feel heat rising to my face--my ears were probably red. Certainly she couldn't read my mind. Things would be lot different between us if she could.

When we struck land again, Harry was the first to get out. We followed as he made his way to the door of the shack. It was hanging off of its hinges. Harry ran his hand over it and smiled wistfully.

"It was here that I finally received my Hogwarts letter," he whispered. "Hagrid delivered it personally, and knocked this door in completely."

We entered the shack just as rain was starting to sprinkle. Harry pointed his wand at the fireplace and flames lit up the interior of the house.

"You actually lived here?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged. "No. We stayed only for a night. Uncle Vernon was trying to get away from the letters." He was silent for a long moment. "This is where it all began. Where I found out the truth about my parents, and learned that I would study magic."

Seven years didn't go by too quickly for me, but for Harry, remembering life before Hogwarts was more like remembering a different life.

"Hagrid came in right after midnight--on my birthday," Harry continued. "But I wonder if it would've been better if I hadn't learned it all."

"You're mental!" I nearly shouted. "You're the one who saved the world, Harry!"

Hermione touched Harry lightly on the shoulder. "He's right. None of this would've been possible without you. Not even Dumbledore could be rid of Voldemort entirely."

I tried not to wince as she said his name. Lifelong habits don't die easily, and seventeen years of saying "You-Know-Who" was going to be hard to break, no matter what the new Ministry advised.

Harry sighed, and I could tell he was going to give us a long list of why things would've been better if he hadn't come to Hogwarts at all. He'd been like this for the last few weeks. Now that the terror was over, we could only think about what could have been.

"There are plenty of things that would've happened the same way," Hermione said before Harry could start. "It was really Wormtail who made everything happen, and Sirius would've come after him whether you were at school or not. It was Ron's picture in the Daily Prophet, really, that started everything. But it couldn't have ended without you, Harry."

"She's right," I said, plopping down on the moth-eaten sofa and pulling out a licorice wand. "There's really nothing any of us could do about it--it's something that began before our time."

Harry sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, ignoring the dust and grime. Hermione sat beside him. We were quiet for a moment, remember the moments that led up until now--danger, mortal peril, fear--they were all behind us now. We had bright futures ahead of us, now that we were wizards with the Order of Merlin under our belts (first class for Harry, second for Hermione and me). There wasn't any threat that we couldn't handle, so long as we stuck together. Each year had furthered my belief that three of us were a team--we'd solved mysteries and problems together, and achieved more together than anyone would've dreamed seven years ago.

"So what do you want to do here?" Hermione asked timidly. She sent a worried glance my way.

Harry shrugged. "I just want to think."

"Are you thinking about taking that job with the ministry?" She prodded.

He shrugged again. "I don't want to." He dragged his fingers through the dirt, drawing pictures I couldn't make out. "I don't know what I want."

"Listen, Harry," I said firmly, leaning forward. "You're a great guy and all, but sometimes you're incredibly dim. You don't have to decide what you want right now. You can take time off. You can travel. You can play Quidditch. Or you can spend your life sitting around wondering what would've happened if you hadn't learned about Hogwarts. And whatever you do decide, you know that Hermione and me will support you--and you know you have Sirius on your side."

"Hermione and I," Hermione mumbled under her breath. I shot her a glare.

"He is right, Harry," she said, turning back toward him. "Our futures aren't set in stone, and you have the advantage of being able to live whatever life you want. You could be like Dean Thomas--he's so shaken by everything that he's contemplating returning to the Muggle world for good. He doesn't want to use magic anymore, now that he's seen the bad that it could do." She sighed. "Of course, I think he'll come to his senses soon enough. He's been offered a lower position in the ministry, working with the Muggle Protection Agency."

Harry looked up suddenly. "Muggle Protection Agency?" he repeated.

I nodded. "It's expanding its services. After the Death Eaters' behavior toward Muggles, the Ministry decided to beef up and work harder to protect the non-magical world. 'Course, it helps that they got rid of those ministers who supported pure-blood supremacy."

"It wouldn't be bad working with them," Harry sighed. "Though it'd keep me from putting hexes on the Dursleys."

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "You can't hex them, no matter what they've done to you in the past!"

I snorted. "He was kidding, Hermione." I studied Harry's expression. "Weren't you?"

He gave a short laugh and nodded. "I was kidding."

I pulled another licorice wand from my jacket and tossed it to Harry. I offered one to Hermione, but she refused. We sat in silence, chewing, for several minutes. There wasn't a lot to say; at least Harry seemed to stop blaming himself for everything that had happened. But the idea that he could leave the wizarding world altogether was frightening. I couldn't totally wrap my brain around the idea--but then, I was completely unaccustomed to the Muggle world, while people like Harry and Hermione could handle both equally as well.

"Think hard, Harry," I said. "Of all the things in the world, what would you like to do the most?"

He mumbled something I couldn't hear, but Hermione caught it.

"No," she whispered as she slipped her hand in his. "You can't turn back time--you can't reclaim lives that were taken. Think about the things you love--things you still have--and decide what you want most to do."

"Quidditch." He said suddenly. "I want to play Quidditch."

"Bloody hell! Then go play Quidditch!" I shouted incredulously. "You've been sought after by every team in Britain--and the English National team has been wanting you to be their Seeker for two years now! What are you waiting for?"

Harry snickered at me, and Hermione giggled. The overall feeling of gloom that had rested with Harry so long seemed to lift for a moment, and we were just three friends again--just like we had been after our House Cup celebration our first year at Hogwarts. Sure, we were older--and wiser, I hoped--but some things hadn't changed at all.

"So what do we do now?" Hermione asked Harry. "Now that we've come all this way just to denounce your involvement in the world of wizardry--what shall we do?"

"Burn the shack down?" I snorted.

Harry chuckled. "That's not such a bad idea."

Hermione's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "You can't do that!"

"Sure we can," I teased, pulling out my wand.

"Not that way!" Harry objected. "If you're going to burn down a Muggle shack, you have to do it in Muggle ways." His eyes glinted and his mouth twisted into a wry grin.

"What?!" My voice rose about an octave.

Hermione giggled. "Have you ever used matches before, Ron?"

I could feel my face turning red. "I-I've used them!" I lied.

"You know," Harry began, "we could have Hermione brew up a nice Veritaserum." He leaned toward me, smiling smugly. "But I don't think you'd want that, would you?"

"Fine then. We won't burn the house down," I conceded.

Harry stood up and stretched. "Come on, then. Let's go." He helped Hermione to her feet.

"So you're going to play Quidditch, then?" she asked brightly.

I was pleased. It would be nice to see which team drafted him--and I had a feeling that Harry would greatly alter the international Quidditch scene.

"And what will you do now, Hermione?" I asked, waiting for her to button up her sweater.

She smiled. "I've already been granted a teaching position at Hogwarts."

"No way!" Harry and I shouted in unison.

She nodded happily. "I haven't accepted yet, but Professor McGonagall said she'd be very upset if I didn't take the job."

I rolled my eyes. "And we know that's the last thing on earth you would want, isn't it?"

Hermione flushed red.

"But what will you do until the summer's over?" Harry asked.

She shrugged. "Relax. Study."

"But school's out!" I protested. "You've graduated! What more is there to study?"

I crossed a line this time.

"There's always something to learn, Ron," she said with a glare. "In fact--I think you have more to learn than Harry or me. Why don't you spend the summer learning about Muggle ways--a summer without any magic in your life?"

I snorted. "And how would I manage that?"

Harry smiled. "You could always stay with Hermione, you know."

Hermione nodded. "My parents would love to have you. They're quite curious about the experiences of a person raised entirely in the wizarding world." She looked very hopeful.

I shook my head. Like there was any way I'd spend the whole summer without magic--even if it did mean...

"I'll think about it." I said, my voice low.

We left the shack as soon as Hermione cast a spell to put out the fire. They made me start the motor in the boat, much to my chagrin, and we headed back to the mainland. The trip back was less pleasant weather-wise, but there was a lighter mood among us. Hermione offered to transform her backpack into an umbrella, but decided that it'd be better to start my "Muggle Orientation Summer" right then and there.

"You know--that's the thing that amazed me in Muggle Studies," she droned on. "Even though I'd lived most of my life without magic, it was amazing to see how the Muggle population had to adapt. We can wave our wands and instantly make ourselves more comfortable. But Muggles have to be prepared for everything."

I let the sound of the waves drown her out; it looked like Harry was doing the same. It was cold and windy and wet, but I was a lot happier coming from the island than I had been going to it. We reached the dock in no time, and Harry stood gazing at the island while Hermione and I tied up the boat.

"Well, that was the beginning," he said softly.

"No, Harry," Hermione chided, clutching his arm and leaning against him.

I stood on the other side of him, one hand on his shoulder. "This is the beginning. Right now."