The First Prophet Article

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If you have read anything about the War, you know of Viktor Krum. His heroism and steadfastness in battle is the stuff of modern legend, as are the stories of his dalliances with the ladies when he came to live in Britain after the war. Most of you only know of Viktor and Ron as war heroes, Quiditch teammates and fast friends. But at the time of Bill and Fleur's wedding, those days were yet to come. What many do not know about Viktor Krum is that he was, for several years, the bane of poor Ron's existence.

Oh, Ron would not admit it of course. He never even said it to me directly, and I was his best mate! But Ron was simply, terribly, and horribly jealous because of Viktor Krum. I won't go into the entire story here (see volume two, part twelve, chapter fifty-six of Hermione's biography for more detail), but suffice it to say that Viktor had been Hermione's first boyfriend...and it made Ron a nutter.

Needless to say, the warming and flirtatious behavior between Ron and Hermione, with which I had suffered all summer, abruptly ceased after we had left the Dursleys and arrived at the Weasley homestead. On that day, Bill and Fleur were at the Burrow with Ginny and Molly Weasley. All of the Weasley clan was aflutter with excitement about the impending wedding. Plans were being amended, revamped and finalized; all with a chaotic pace which may only be found among Weasleys.

Ron, Hermione and I happened to walk in on one such final preparation, and it set the stage for what was yet to come. By the time we arrived from the Dursleys, Ron and Hermione would often look at each other and smile in a hopeful and flirtatious way. I had the distinct feeling that their "friendship" would not survive a week.

I am not known for being a gossip, but I was looking forward to using the tidbits occurring between Rom and Hermione as conversation pieces with Ginny Weasley. This would allow me to avoid the awkwardness that I was sure would grow between us if we did not have some diversion.

I remember the exact scene of our arrival easily, and can describe what happened word for word. Ron, Hermione and I arrived flushed with exhilaration after apparating together for the first time. We were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Our faces held the sunshine of youth. We took our first step into the Burrow with the straight-backed hopefulness and unwarranted confidence of our age, and we were hoping the wedding would be one hell of a party.

In addition, we were hoping to surprise Molly with our early arrival. So we tried to quietly sneak through the kitchen door, when what should we hear but...

"Of course we should zeat Veektor with 'Ermione!" exclaimed Fleur as we cracked open the door. "She eez ze only ozer person Veektor will know. No?"

"That is not a good idea," said Ginny shaking her head. "Ron will have kittens over that."

"Why so?" asked Fleur, looking haughtily confused. "'Ermione and Veektor were togezer a few years ago. Why would Ron care if..."

We had entered the Burrow at this untimely moment to find Molly, Ginny, Bill and Fleur with their heads together pouring over a seating chart for the reception. They were going over the mundane and age-old task of ensuring that the people who sat with each other would enjoy the company they kept for the night. Old people were seated with old people instead of drunken rowdy youngsters. Ex-boyfriends or ex-husbands did not sit within a certain number of tables of their ex...that sort of thing.

As we had walked in, Fleur made her clueless comment and I heard Hermione curse under her breath in a most un-Hermione-ish way. She and I both looked at Ron, and all the shine in his eyes and spring in his step had become instead a stiff mask, and a tense stance.

"Viktor Krum is coming?" asked Ron in a flat voice to nobody in particular.

Ron never got his answer as he was immediately enfolded, as were we all, in the expansive greetings of Mrs. Weasley and the rest of the Weasley clan. Despite the warm greetings, handshakes, slaps on the back, hugs and kisses that were received and given to and from all present, the atmosphere between my two best friends had dramatically and immediately changed. Hermione anxiously bit her lip and looked like she was trying to think of something to say. Ron pointedly avoided Hermione's eye.

In short order Mrs. Weasley had us bundled around the table. As she made constant exclamations concerning our emaciation, Mrs. Weasley treated us to the bottomless surplus of her copious larder. Ron barely touched his food and was obviously, if quietly, upset. I snuck a peek or two across the table at Ginny and she gave me a smirk and a wink. It immediately put me at ease. Thanks to the romantic tension between my two best friends, I would definitely have plenty of safe topics to discuss with the object of my own repressed affection.

Now here you will have to pardon an old man, as my memory fails me to some extent, as does my decrepit writing hand. Due to the already unplanned length of this narrative, I will shorten it a bit to save both space and my aged fingers. Let me just say that the days at the Burrow leading up to the wedding, for me, were filled with three things.

First, was the fact that we were all immediately subsumed into wedding preparation, logistics and organization. Ron, Hermione and I were put to numerous duties by Mrs. Weasley, which involved a lot of flue powder and apparating on repeated errands to and from various shops and merchants, as well as the Delacour estate in France where the wedding would be held.

Second was the way in which I treasured any moment to sit or stand or otherwise be around Ginny. Thanks to the hive of activity that the Burrow had become, we never had long to be alone and grow nervous or run out of conversation. However, I began to wish for more awkward silences, just so I could be near her fiery hair, her warming smile, her slimly athletic form, her beautiful face and her biting wit.

To put it bluntly, I was starting to think that I had grossly miscalculated my decision to end our relationship at the end of the previous school term. I could tell she knew that I was questioning that decision. As the week went by, I found her often standing closer to me, or she casually brushed her hand against mine, or she pressed against me when she was leaning over for something, or otherwise did one of those many things that women may so easily do to so successfully catch the undivided attention of a young man.

Thirdly, and most importantly to this narrative, was the mounting discontent between Ron and Hermione. Ron moped and or acted surly when Hermione was around. At first Hermione acted solicitous and tried to coax Ron back into the awkwardly flirtatious behavior that had developed over the summer. Ron responded not a wit. He was abrupt and rude to Hermione, and did everything humanly possible to make being around the two of them aggravating to the extreme. After a few days, Hermione's accommodating streak had run its course, and she paid Ron back every rude comment, with interest. Luckily, the hectic events and our assigned quests from Mrs. Weasley kept things from coming to a head at that point, and prevented Hermione from giving Ron the tongue lashing of his life, and vice versa.

Sometimes, though, after a particularly abrupt or rude comment from Ron, Hermione would excuse herself while looking tearful. And sometimes when someone would mention Quiditch or Viktor Krum, or if Hermione struck home with a particularly telling verbal barb, Ron would look like he had eaten something rotten.

Thus did things continue for a week until we all found ourselves in France at the lovely Delacour estate for a wedding and the reception following.

So we see now, Dear Reader, the tensions of these several weeks that I have described, and particularly the last week at the Burrow. This was what came boiling forth in a raucous argument witnessed by me in that lovely French Garden from my little nook.

To Be Continued...