Storm Clouds

Crystal Clear Skies

**~**~**~**~**~**

"Where is Ron? I thought we agreed that today of all days we'd open our Hogwarts letters together!"

Harry Potter glanced up from perusing The Daily Prophet. He exhaled a gusty breath upwards to his forehead, causing his fringe to flutter slightly. Ron was obviously delaying his descent from his bedroom, and Harry didn't blame him one bit. He folded the paper and laid it beside his plate.

"What are you so nervous about, Hermione?" he asked. "It's a lock that you'll have been made a prefect."

Hermione Granger stopped pacing the kitchen of The Burrow long enough to cast him a scathing glance before she resumed. Back, forth, back, forth, back, forth. . . .

Harry reached out, caught her arm, and unceremoniously deposited her in a chair. "Sit," he ordered. "Stay." She glared at him. "Please. You're starting to make me nervous," he concluded, grinning.

Hermione grumbled, but did as he asked. She took a piece of toast from the rack and started crumbling it on her plate. A sound on the stairs made her start, and she would have leapt to her feet but for the look Harry shot her.

Ginny Weasley entered the kitchen, hair disheveled and rubbing sleep from her eyes. She slid into the chair across from Harry and poured herself some tea. After one sip she seemed to come alive, glancing about as if she were suddenly aware of her surroundings.

"Morning," she said, he voice still faintly raspy with sleep. She reached across the table, sorted through the pile and picked up her letter. "Already? I could have sworn we had at least two weeks of holiday left."

"We do have two weeks left," Hermione pointed out in an absent fashion.

Ginny rolled her eyes and glanced at Harry, who was biting his lip to keep from laughing. She was proving almost as adept as her brother Ron at getting Hermione riled up.

"Where the devil is he?" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, jumping from her chair and starting to pace again.

Ginny cocked her head and listened. Faintly Harry could hear the sound of water running, then, with a squeak of the pipes, it stopped. It wasn't long before heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs.

"That would be him," Ginny said, rising. She picked up her mug of tea. "I'm grabbing a shower before all the hot water disappears." And with that she left the kitchen, bumping into Ron in the doorway.

"Watch it, Gin!"

"Sorry!" she called out from the stairs.

Ron came into the room, pushing a hand through his vivid red hair. It was still damp in spots. Hermione poured him a cup of tea, and then handed their letters to him and Harry. Finally she picked hers up.

"Ready?"

With nods they all broke the seals and pulled the letters from their envelopes. Almost immediately two shiny, silver badges appeared in the air and fell to the table. Hermione read her letter, suppressed a squeal of joy and picked one of them up, immediately pinning it to her blouse.

"Congratulations, 'mione," Harry said, unable to keep from smiling at her delight.

She grinned at him and looked at the other badge, then back at Harry. "Whose. . .?"

An odd sort of choking sound brought both of their heads around. Ron's forehead was just visible over his letter, and it was bright red. The parchment rustled slightly as his hands shook. "M. . . M. . . Mine," he stuttered. He picked up the remaining badge as if it would burn him. "Mine?" he repeated, this time as a question.

Hermione and Harry both laughed out loud at his stunned expression. He grinned sheepishly and held the prefect's badge closer, examining it from every angle. Finally he clasped it in his palm and raised an eyebrow. "What do you reckon McGonagall was drinking?" he asked.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. But her anger was quickly forgotten. She reached across the table and took Ron's hand. "I'm glad we can do this together," she said, smiling shyly.

"Me too." He pinned the badge to his shirt and breathed a sigh of relief. "See?" he asked with a glance at Harry. "It doesn't even hurt!"

Hermione began moving the breakfast things around, looking for something. "But, Harry. . ." she began, her voice trailing off into uncertainty.

He knew what she was thinking. The three of them had done virtually everything together since Halloween of their first year. He hadn't mentioned it to them, but he had specifically requested that he not even be considered as a potential prefect. There was just too much uncertainty in the world and most of it revolved around him. Not only was it a responsibility he might not be able to fulfill, it was just one more addition to the Harry Potter legend. That he could certainly do without.

"Have you guys seen the book list?" Ginny's voice startled Harry from his reverie. She had obviously been distracted on her way to the shower. She was still in her pajamas and her hair was still a mess. Behind her he caught a glimpse of Fred and George coming down the stairs. She stopped short at the sight of the prefect badge that Hermione wore. She squealed and ran around the table, catching Hermione in an embrace.

"I'm so happy for you, Herm!" she enthused. Then she grinned mischievously and continued. "Does this mean I can start getting away with anything?"

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe you should ask him," she said with a grin.

Ginny looked at Harry, but he only shook his head, smiling. Even as he watched her the realization hit, and her jaw dropped. She turned toward Ron, a faint flush creeping up her cheeks. Before she could say anything, however, Fred and George arrived. The twins, in typical fashion, wasted no time.

"Prefect?" Fred shouted. "Our ickle Ronniekins?" He reached up and mussed his brother's hair.

"Geroff!" Ron growled, pushing Fred away before sitting down. Fred and George took seats as well, and opened their own letters.

"What was that about the book list, Gin?" Hermione asked.

"Take a look at it."

Harry turned to the second page of the letter and read the supplies list. There were some additional potions ingredients that they hadn't used before, but other than that it seemed as usual. Standard Book of Spells ~ Grade 5, Unfogging The Future ~ 3^rd Edition, Advanced Transfiguration. . . His eyes widened as they got to the end of the list.

"What the. . .?" he heard Ron, Fred, and George exclaim in unison.

Harry shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, thinking they were playing tricks on him. When he opened them again he fully expected to see the list changed. It wasn't.

Challenge For The Cup ~ A History of the Hogwarts Houses

Merlin vs. Milton ~ A (sort of) History Of Muggle/Magic Relations In Britain

Great Wizarding Events of the 20^th Century

How Much Is That Nimbus In The Window? ~ Three Centuries of Broomstick Evolution

He looked up from his letter to find identical expressions of shock on the other five faces clustered around the table.

"Could it be. . .?" Ginny whispered.

"No," George breathed. "Could it?"

"We have a new History of Magic teacher?" Harry, Ron and Hermione said together.

Almost as one the stunned looks disappeared from their faces, to be replaced by six identical silly grins. Fred and George jumped from their seats and started dancing around the room. George caught Ginny up in his arms and carried her with him. Her laughter all but sparkled in the air. They had all joined in the dance when Mrs. Weasley came in through the back door, a basket of laundry balanced on her hip.

"MUM!" Fred shouted, catching her shoulders and pressing a loud, smacking kiss to her forehead.

"What has gotten into you all?" Mrs. Weasley asked, pressing a hand to her heart. "I swear, if you didn't have red hair I'd think you were none of my children!" She glanced at Harry and Hermione. "No offense, my dears."

They grinned at each other and at her. "None taken," Hermione said. She took the basket from Mrs. Weasley and guided her to a chair. She then handed her one of the school supply lists that were scattered across the table. Mrs. Weasley was puzzled, but she read through the items. As she reached the bottom of the page they all saw her eyes widen, exactly as each of them had just experienced. She stood up and took the laundry basket.

"It would seem that you have a new History of Magic teacher," she said, a smile making the corners of her mouth twitch. "About time, I say. Professor Binns had been dead for nearly twenty years when I started school." She glanced at the six of them and waved her hand. "Carry on celebrating, by all means." And she bustled out of the kitchen.

"Celebrate what?" Ron asked, sounding slightly petulant. "She didn't even notice my badge!"

"Oh, and Ron dear, Hermione. . . Congratulations." They all heard her voice float back to them. Harry, Ginny, Fred, and George burst out laughing. They all sank back into their chairs and picked up their letters again.

"Seems strange though, doesn't it?" Hermione asked. "To be so happy, when. . ." Her voice faded away to nothing and she glanced at Harry. They were all quiet for a minute, remembering the end of the previous year. Harry found himself incredibly engrossed in a scorch mark on the edge of the table. It was better than meeting any of their sympathetic eyes.

"So, Harry," Fred's voice interrupted the uncomfortable silence. "No prefect badge for you, I see."

At those words Harry was reminded of what else was in his letter, and he let go of the bad memories. A grin spread across his face. "No," he agreed. "Something better, though." He handed his letter to Ginny, who was standing beside his chair.

She took it from him, her eyes questioning. He nodded once, and she lowered her eyes to the parchment. After a minute she let out a gasp and threw one arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer in half an embrace. "Oh my God! Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!!!" was all she could say.

"WHAT?" demanded the others.

Ginny released Harry and took up the parchment again. She cleared her throat and began to read, using her best Professor McGonagall voice. "It was not an easy decision, Potter, to deny you as a prefect. Despite your penchant for breaking rules and crossing lines. . ." Here the audience laughed, all of them aware of Professor Snape's words on that subject. ". . .I believe you would be nothing but an asset to this school. However, certain other considerations have made such a move inadvisable."

"Considerations? What considerations?" Ron asked.

"Hush!" said Hermione.

Ginny continued. "I hope that what else I have to say may lessen your disappointment. It is my intention to recommend you to your teammates as the new captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and I do not doubt that they will agree with me. Congratulations are not, I believe, premature on this count. Yours sincerely blah blah blah. . ." She turned her head slightly and met Harry's eyes. Her own were shining. "Harry, that's wonderful," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Thanks, Ginny."

"Captain?!?!" George exclaimed, snatching the letter from Ginny's hand. He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face, all the way to his eyes. Then he suddenly looked serious. "McGonagall's right, Harry. We won't argue with this. Its yours." He reached out with a hand to shake Harry's. "Congratulations, mate."

Harry shook George's hand, unable to speak. Fred held out his as well.

"You deserve it, Harry. You've got three years left to give to the team. Use them well."

Harry felt his heart clench at those words. I bet Cedric thought he had three years left when he became his team's captain, he thought to himself. Then he quickly recoiled; it was the first time he had associated Cedric's name with the events of the end of the previous year. Thinking about everything all at once was just too painful, even now. He stood up and carried his dishes to the sink, where an automatic cleaning charm pulled them from his hands and floated them into the warm, soapy water. He stood there for a moment, staring out the window at the untidy garden. The bright sunshine and blue sky seemed almost out of place.

"So we'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow."

"Ginny'll need new robes; I swear she's a foot taller. Our widdle Ginny-winny is all grown up!"

"Shut up, Fred."

"Let's get out and de-gnome the garden before Mum nags us about it."

"I heard that, Ronald Weasley!"

"Too late."

Harry stayed at the window and let the banter swirl around him. It was all part and parcel of a large family, and he had long since grown used to it. Besides, a different conversation was playing out in his head.

Both of us.

What?

We'll take it at the same time. Its still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it.

You. . . you sure?

Yeah. . . we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. Let's just take it together.

You're on. Come here.*

"Harry?"

He started and turned his head toward the voice. He was surprised to see that he met Ron's eyes directly, instead of having to look up slightly. Ginny wasn't the only one who would need new robes, he thought with a rueful grin. Life goes on, I suppose.

"You all right?" Ron asked, his face impassive but his eyes concerned.

Harry forced a smile and nodded. "Fine. Just thinking." He glanced back out the window. "How about after the de-gnoming we head to the field for some Quidditch? I want to know if you're good enough to become our new Keeper."

**~**~**~**~**~**

"Here! I'm open!"

"ARGH!"

"HA! Gotcha! Scooooooooore!"

"OUCH!"

"'Mione, you may be brilliant, but you really are a lousy flyer."

Harry was laughing so hard it was all he could do to stay on his broom. What had started as an opportunity for Ron to display his skill as a Keeper had turned into an all-out, knock-down, no-holds-barred game. Minus the Bludgers, of course. Which was a good thing, because they probably all would have been unseated by now.

Hermione was rubbing her forehead, having just collided in spectacular fashion with George. It had been his quick reflexes that had kept her in the air and on the old Cleansweep 7. Ginny was visibly struggling to contain her mirth. Fred wasn't even making an attempt to do so. He had the partially deflated Muggle football that they were using as a Quaffle tucked under one arm, and his howls of laughter were probably audible in the village.

Hermione dropped her hand from her face and flashed a rueful grin. "I never said I was good at this," she protested.

"Good thing, too," George grumbled. "I'd hate to think you were capable of such a bold-faced lie." He gingerly touched a finger to his cheek, where a bruise was already beginning to form. "Guess you have such a hard head to keep all those brains inside."

Hermione glowered and moved to punch him in the arm when her face suddenly changed and she started to slip off the broom. George caught her arm and brought her upright, then wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her onto his broom in front of him.

"I think I am going to be sick," Hermione said, each word precisely pronounced.

"Time to return to earth," George said, leaning forward slightly and descending. The others quickly followed suit, gathering around the pair. Hermione's eyes were slightly unfocused, giving her a quizzical expression. "Let's get her back to the house so Mum can take care of her."

Fred stepped forward and lifted Hermione on his back, piggy-back style. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder with a faint moan. Ron grabbed her broom and George grabbed Fred's and the four of them started back to the house.

"I hope she's all right," Ginny said, her teeth worrying her lower lip.

"I think so. Just a knock on the head." Harry grinned. "I've had worse."

Ginny snorted. "I suppose having a completely de-boned arm counts as 'worse'."

"That's just one example in a long list," he said, gesturing for Ginny to precede him on the narrow path. "The entire catalog would take to much time to go through."

They walked in silence for a while, Ginny very aware of Harry's presence behind her. Since his unexpected arrival at The Burrow on his birthday he had settled into the family routine quite easily, even to the point of joining her brothers in teasing her. He didn't do it often, but the fact that he felt he could made her more comfortable around him. She was happy that they could take the first steps toward a friendship of their own, and not one that was dependent on Ron. Besides, she was completely over that silly hero-worship crush she'd had on him.

Wasn't she?

"So," Harry said to break the silence. "What do you think this new History of Magic teacher will be like?"

**~**~**~**~**~**

Albus Dumbledore paced the confines of his study. It was rare for him to display any sign of nervousness, but this was a special case. He wasn't even one hundred percent certain what was going to happen. He could translate and read the prophecies, but everything else was a question of interpretation.

And he wasn't even completely certain of that.

The flames in his fireplace suddenly shot higher and turned a startling shade of purple. His was the only fire in the entire castle connected to the external Floo Network, and the purple flame was a sign that someone was coming in. He stood and waited.

He blinked and suddenly someone was there, standing in the midst of the purple fire, back to the room. The figure was tall and lithe, topped off with an unruly mop of short, dark hair. When he spun around the torchlight glinted off the lenses of his glasses, and Dumbledore felt a momentary shock. His first thought, that James Potter had come back to life and was standing there, was ludicrous. Then the figure stepped into the light and he caught sight of a pair of deep, velvet blue eyes in an undeniably feminine face.

"Its time," she said.

*Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, U.S. hardcover edition, pp. 634-5