Harry Potter and the Ancient Order

Chpt. 3. Percy's Promotion

The next morning, Harry and Ron broke the story of the previous night's events to Hermione. Her initial reaction was the well-expected "You shouldn't have ran off like that without telling anyone. You know better than that." Harry had always disliked people telling him to stay under a watchful eye. He often wanted to have a normal life, being able to go out and do things without the threat of death and attack hanging over his head. A normal fifteen year old. Harry got rather testy explaining this to Hermione, who fully understood, yet still maintained her strict stance on their disobedience. Hermione had the relatively normal life. She didn't know what it was like to have to be wary of every hidden corner, of every stranger met. Harry didn't ask for this, and both Hermione and Ron knew this too well. Hermione merely felt that Ron shouldn't be adding to Harry's desire to disobey the strict security measures that were taken for Harry's safety.

"You just don't understand. You never will," pouted Harry. He remained silent as Ron continued the story. Hermione's attitude changed as he continued, with remarks such as "That was quick thinking" and "Thank all that's holy you're both O.K." given at the right times. Harry stewed until Ron finally got to the part about the Carerra Precision broomsticks. He was still just too excited about them too dwell on his personal feelings of suffocation.

"They were amazing, Hermione," said Ron excitedly. "I've never flown anything with such control. Imagine if we had those brooms for Quidditch!"

"Wait, she just let you use them? Such an expensive broom?" asked Hermione. Leave it to her to find something wrong with a gift, thought Harry. His thoughts traveled back to their third year when Hermione, though with nothing but Harry's safety in mind, had nearly cost Harry the Firebolt given him by Sirius.

"The shopkeeper noticed who Harry was and was only too glad to let us borrow them," said Ron. He slapped Harry on the back and said, "Knew your fame would come in handy one of these days." Hermione still looked on disapprovingly.

"It's O.K., Hermione. They're going back today. We just couldn't let anyone know about them, or we'd have to tell them the whole story of how we got to Diagon Alley in the first place," said Harry.

Hermione either agreed or wished to avoid an argument, in any case she didn't push the issue. At least his fame made him happy this time, she thought secretly. She had always admired Harry's ability to cope with his fame and misfortune, especially at such a young age. She could barely cope with her studies at times. She knew it wasn't right to feel slightly grateful that Harry's parents had died, but she felt that the tragedy had shaped Harry into the young man he was today, and she had nothing but deep pride in being his friend.

"Harry, we forgot! Mum said Hedwig brought you a letter last night!" remembered Ron. He was now itching to go and read it himself, but he had better manners than that. Harry sat in silence for a moment, then moved to his bed to retrieve the letter that had been inadvertently shoved under his pillow. Ron and Hermione sat eagerly awaiting its contents after having noticed the muddy paw print on the cover.

Harry sat and read the letter in silence, slightly smirking as he continued. His two friends weren't sure if they liked the smirk on Harry's face, but they were sure it was justified. He finished the letter and handed it to his two best friends for them to read:

Dear Harry,

I have just received word from Dumbledore that you were almost presented with an Underage Use of Magic summons from the Ministry for enchantments at a Muggle cinema before it got "lost in the shuffle" at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. What are you playing at? Look, before you start to resent my lecture, I can only imagine how constrained you must feel, not being able to so much as piss without getting security clearance. It is a burden that should not be placed on anyone, yourself being no exception.

That said, I must insist that you use extra caution in the future and try not to draw attention to yourself. Our spies indicate that there is a large sum of gold placed on your capture and being handed to Voldemort alive. That last fact alone should give you an advantage. Trust your instincts. I'll see you when the term starts. Moony sends his best.

Snuffles

Hermione wore a rather annoying 'I-Told-You-So' type of look as Ron finished the letter. His eyes were nearly as wide as a galleon coin.

"Does this mean that Dad knows what we were up to?" he asked cautiously. After all the care they had gone to, they were still found out. No sooner than the words left his mouth there was a knock on Ron's door.

"Good morning," said Mr. Weasley brightly. At least he didn't look like he was going to lecture them. "Ready for Billy's Yards?" he asked Harry.

"Billiards," corrected Harry, grinning. The walked up to the attic and immediately had to duck as the ghoul who lived up there was throwing the billiard balls around the attic in an attempt to cure the silence of the house. Once they had all entered, the ghoul disappeared into the chimney and left them to play. Harry had a wonderful time teaching everyone how to play, and laughed as Fred and George were sword fighting with their cues.

"Bow to the victor!" George ordered Fred, whose cue had been snapped in half. Once George mockingly bowed, Fred grabbed both halves and whacked George on either side of the head, prompting Mr. Weasley to step in and put an end to the battle.

"Enough, the both of you. Go and help your mother with lunch. No, Fred, the yook stays here," ordered Mr. Weasley as Fred tried to sneak downstairs with the cue (not the yook). Mr. Weasley used his wand to repair the broken cue and set it on top of the pool table before turning to Harry and Ron. Hermione must have known what was coming as she had taken refuge in a corner of the attic.

"Boys," began Mr. Weasley, "I really brought you up here so we can talk out of earshot of Molly."

Oh boy, thought Harry. Another lecture. He liked the Weasleys very much, but he thought at times that they doted too much on him about his own safety. It was easy enough for them to talk about it, they didn't see the things that Harry saw or lived the horrors that he had lived. They didn't have the nightmares about their parents being murdered or about Cedric Diggory being murdered. They hadn't lived the last four years under constant threat of plotting or of being sheltered by nearly every wizard they met.

"First, I want it understood that I do not condone your actions last night," Mr. Weasley stated firmly. "But, I also want to commend you on your quick thinking and actions. Now, I smoothed everything over at work about your use of magic and told them that you were merely trying to flag down the Knight Bus. I don't think that they bought it, but every official document about the incident says so, so that's history now. It's hard to punish for use of such a simple spell, anyway.

"I only know a portion of the story told to me by the Knight Bus conductor. May I ask exactly what happened?"

Ron began a very abbreviated version of the tale, telling no lies but also eliminating such details as Wormtail's conversation and the fact that there was a second Death Eater following them. Mr. Weasley thankfully was silent throughout the tale. Once Ron arrived at the part of the tale that took them to Diagon Alley, he hesitated.

"May I ask how you managed to make it back home?" Mr. Weasley asked in a very even tone of voice that unnerved Ron.

"We, er, what I mean is that we borrowed two broomsticks," Ron stuttered, obviously loath to spill the beans on the very expensive brooms hidden away in the field.

"From whom?" Mr. Weasley inquired after a few moments of silence.

"From the lady at Quality Quidditch Supplies," answered Harry as if this sort of thing was done every day.

"We offered to pay for a rental, but once she noticed Harry's scar, she wouldn't hear of it," Ron put in quickly. Although they were very poor, the Weasleys were not very tolerant of accepting favors or monetary gifts.

"Where are these brooms now?" asked Mr. Weasley with a small sense of foreboding.

"We put them in the hedgerow behind the shed so Mrs. Weasley wouldn't notice we borrowed brooms," said Harry, unable to look Mr. Weasley in the eye.

"We agreed to take them back today," Ron added.

"Yes, we will take them back today," said Mr. Weasley sternly. "Your luck has apparently extended a day as your school letters arrived this morning, so we are going there anyway.

"You will most certainly understand when I tell you that you two are not allowed off the property unless Molly or myself is with you until you go back to school. I am glad that your both safe and were able to think clearly," he added, his expression brightening, "but I also have a responsibility as a parent to see to it that your misjudgments are kept to a minimum. I will pack up the broomsticks that you two borrowed and go with you to return them, and as far as Molly knows, we're going there to look at a broomstick for Ron for this term. Understood?"

Both Harry and Ron nodded, and Mr. Weasley waited for Hermione to nod as well before he seemed satisfied. His face lightening considerably, Mr. Weasley walked over to the window and threw open the shutters. Something wasn't quite right, as his eyes grew three times their normal size and he dropped his wand with a silence-breaking clatter. Expecting nothing less than a party of Death Eaters in the Weasleys' backyard, Harry ran to the window with a sense of foreboding, but found it difficult not to laugh out loud, which he would have done merrily in any other situation. With Ron and Hermione hot on his heels, they too had to smirk. The gnomes that often took up residence in the Weasleys' garden were flying the Carerra broomsticks.

* * *

Harry and Ron were still snickering as they stood outside the door of Quality Quidditch Supplies, wondering how their luck had changed so well. Mr. Weasley was able to get the brooms back from the gnomes, without harming the brooms, and without anyone else in the Weasley household knowing about them. Mr. Weasley had performed a minor Switching spell on the brooms, changing them into a pair of arm braces, which they claimed belonged to Harry and he needed to have the leather strings re-strung. Even Ron was amazed that his father could come up with such a convincing story and in the end they were actually glad that Mr. Weasley had found out about the broomsticks. It would have been much more difficult to return them otherwise.

The shopkeeper was very excited to see Harry again and quizzed the boys for many minutes about the quality of the racing brooms under the disapproving eye of Mr. Weasley. They tried not to sound overly excited, but couldn't help themselves.

"In one word, how would you sum up the Carerra Precision?" she asked them.

"Addicting," Ron said immediately.

"Exactly," Harry agreed.

"Oooh, that be a very good word for it," she said delightedly. "That may help sell many a broom, young lads. Is there anything else I may do for ye?"

"Er, yeah," Ron started, somewhat embarrassed. "I'm looking for a new broomstick for myself this year."

"Oh, well, you said ye likes the-"

"Something more in our price range," Mr. Weasley cut in quickly. "Maybe something on this wall here," he added, pointing to the back wall where the more outdated broomsticks were displayed. Ron looked a little dejected, but began to inspect each broom nonetheless. Harry thought he was being rather picky, mumbling such things as "grip feels wrong" and "tail curves slightly left" among other complaints. Ron finally settled on a Comet 250, which wasn't a bad broom and owned a reputation for durability, but it just wasn't in the class of a Firebolt. Mr. Weasley seemed slightly perturbed that Ron had selected one of the more expensive brooms on the wall, but since its model was relatively out-of-date, the price was still affordable.

Once they left the shop, Ron in a bit higher spirits the more he examined his new broomstick, Harry got that familiar feeling of someone watching him. Whipping his head around several times, he finally spotted the Creevey brothers walking with their parents and frantically waving at Harry. He wasn't sure why he felt so uncomfortable, but he only knew that he wished to be someplace else, and Harry continued walking as if he hadn't noticed the Creeveys with a small pang of guilt. Had Harry only looked behind them, he would have noticed a tall man with dark hair dressed in midnight-blue robes (so dark, in fact, that they looked almost black), with a raven perched on his shoulder.

The rest of the trip to Diagon Alley was uneventful, unless you count Mrs. Weasley dragging Fred and George out of a joke shop, where they had been talking to the owner about the finer points of owning such a store. Hermione had bought a few more books than necessary, consisting of several O.W.L. study guides, and a book she refused to show them, but Harry caught a portion of the title: -ships and How to Cope before she stuffed it out of view.

That evening, Harry was surprised to see Percy home in time for dinner, and he even ate with the entire family. His dinner conversation, however, never turned from work. For a while, now, Percy was going on about the reshuffling in his department (International Magic Cooperation) ever since the untimely death of Barty Crouch several months before. They had been functioning without a head of department for nearly three full months, with Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, stepping in where necessary.

"They announced today that the Ministry is nearly ready to name a new Head of Department," Percy said importantly as they all dug into a hearty meal of beef stew and buttered rolls. "Due to my performance this past year, my name was announced as a finalist for the promotion." His chest swelled significantly, causing Ron, Fred, and George to make sick faces and imitate vomiting as everyone else congratulated Percy.

"That's wonderful, Percy!" cooed Mrs. Weasley.

"Congratulations, son," said Mr. Weasley with a hearty clap on the back.

"Yeah, you'll be named Biggest Swollen Head of your department hands down," Fred snorted as Mrs. Weasley rapped his hands with a wooden spoon (he was trying to sneak a ton-tongue toffee into Percy's bread).

"At the very least," Percy continued undisturbed, "I'll be named Junior Head, as I was the personal assistant last year and have been the main contact for foreign offices these past few months. I've also decided that it's time for me to start house hunting. I mean no offense, father, but it wouldn't do for a Head of Department to be living at home."

"I understand, Perc," Mr. Weasley said as Mrs. Weasley looked on sadly. "You're right. You've outgrown your shoes in this house and deserve a place of your own."

"He'll be unbearable if he gets that promotion," Ron whispered to Harry. "He already thinks he's so self righteous, it'll be a nightmare."

Harry raised his eyebrows at this, having expected Ron to be a least a little proud of his brother. Ron had always clashed with Percy these past few years, but his reaction was still a small shock. They finished the remainder of their dinner in silence as Percy carried on about what he wanted in a house and accepting suggestions from his parents. Harry indicated with his head that he wanted to go outside to Ron and Hermione, and they excused themselves to follow.

"I hope he doesn't get it," Ron said irritably. "I'll never be able to talk to him again. He'll be 'too busy'," he carried on in irritation.

"Ron," Hermione said softly. "What's wrong? You should be proud of your brother."

"Proud?" he said in somewhat disbelief. "Proud of what? Using a bad experience to further his career? If old Crouch hadn't died, Percy'd still be an assistant. Now he's gonna be the youngest Head of Department in centuries. How is that fair?"

Harry had trouble finding words. Ron's reaction had stunned him into silence. He just couldn't understand his bitterness towards Percy.

"What's really on your mind, Ron?" Harry said.

Ron stood there in silence for several minutes brooding. Thinking Ron was going to ignore the question, Harry started to ask again before Ron started to babble.

"Ever since Percy became a prefect, he's always been 'too important' to bother with me. Before that, he would always listen to what I had to say and answer all of my questions. Maybe a little irritated with me at times, but he would always answer. Bill was Head Boy. Charlie won a Quidditch Cup. Fred and George won a Quidditch Cup. Percy was Head Boy, now he might be Head of Department in the Ministry. I'm always forgotten. What do I have to do to get noticed by my own family? Fred and George are too busy with their joke shop idea to bother with me. Bill and Charlie hardly come home to visit. All I ever get are lectures about behaving myself and setting an example for Ginny. How can I make my parents proud of me when my brothers have already done everything?"

Ron talked himself into silence. Harry and Hermione let Ron go on as long as he needed, not really knowing what to say. They were both only-children and couldn't understand Ron's feelings of inferiority. They looked at each other questioningly hoping that the other had an answer, but they only found confusion in each other's eyes. Hermione began the attempt to console Ron.

"You know your parents are proud of you, Ron. You are not your brothers, you're Ron. That's what they love about you."

"Yeah, I'm different," Ron retorted. "They've all done great things, and I haven't."

"You haven't?" Hermione said, her voice rising. "You helped defend the Sorcerer's Stone. You helped solve the Chamber of Secrets. You helped save your sister's life. Have your brothers ever done those thing?"

"You helped prove the innocence of my godfather," Harry said softly. "You helped me find out who really betrayed my parents. How can I ever thank you for that?"

Ron was still looking at the ground, but the look in his eyes changed. It went from frustration to sorrow. Harry stood back, worried Ron might become very upset, and Hermione placed her hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Yes, Ron, you are different from your brothers," she said gently. "Could any of them have ever done what you have?"

"You two are only saying that because you're my best friends," Ron said darkly, still staring at the ground.

"Right," said Harry. "We are your best friends. Not Percy's. Not Fred and George's. Not Bill's or Charlie's. Yours. And we wouldn't have it any other way."

Ron smiled slightly at this, and finally trusted himself to look at his friends. Catching Harry's eye, Ron smiled a little bigger.

"That's why we love you, Ron," Hermione continued. "Because you're you. Not because of what your brothers have done in their lives."

Ron smiled much more broader as he hugged his two best friends, thinking he just might be better off than all of his brothers.