Harry Potter and the Last Goodnight

The next day moved rather quickly for Harry. He'd spent most of the night before packing up his things in eager anticipation of returning to the Burrow. If there had been one place that had ever felt like home to him - besides Hogwarts - it would have to be the Burrow. And best of all, there were no memories of Sirius there.

Harry had spent most of the morning working in Aunt Petunia's garden, weeding out the dandelions and planting seedlings in their place. She even took him with her to the flower shop on the other side of town to pick up a special order of wildflowers from Bermuda. Harry had the distinct impression he was being watched like a hawk in the store by the young, yet familiar face of the store clerk. Perhaps the rumors of his reputation as a student of St. Brutus's Center had now reached the business district.

He found himself studying Aunt Petunia very closely as she drove back to Privet Drive. It didn't look very difficult to shift between gears. In fact, Harry thought it was a lot like riding a broom. You had to step on the clutch before shifting just as you had to grip your broomstick harder before speeding up. It made sense to him.

The thought of asking Aunt Petunia to teach him how to drive had crossed his mind, but as soon as the idea had popped into his head he dismissed it. The very thought was laughable, and his aunt would have no problem cackling in his face at such an absurd request.

After he had finished with the garden, he slipped away to Mrs. Figg's house to say goodbye and thank her for her company during the summer. Lupin had moved on again, and Tonks was on watch duty for the day.

"Now don't let what Remus told you go to your head," she scolded. "I know you are not a boy, but you are not yet a man. I know that's not what you want to hear, but it is the truth. A boy doesn't change into a man overnight. You are in-between, Harry. Caught between two worlds. Don't let them get the better of you."

"Remus doesn't know anything about what it takes to be a man," Tonks spat. Harry got the distinct impression that there was more to her anger than just what he'd said to Harry. "He's a lousy one himself. Don't listen to him, Harry. When you're a man, you'll know. You won't need him to tell you." Then Mrs. Figg gave him one last pat on the back and shoved him out the door so fast that Harry was wondering whether he had been welcome in her house at all.

The next day, Uncle Vernon had taken the day off work rather than leave Aunt Petunia alone to meet Ron and Mr. Weasley. Dudley, however, was not hanging around. Bad things tended to happen to him whenever the Weasleys were involved in picking Harry up.

Dudley had never talked to Harry about the events of the previous summer. There was one time when they had both arrived home early in the wee hours of the morning that Dudley looked as though he wanted to question Harry about the dementors. He was probably still convinced that it was something Harry had done to him. However, he had reconsidered and pushed Harry over into the driveway so hard he'd skinned his arm on the cement.

Uncle Vernon was pacing the living room, his gaze never wavering from the picture window. The driveway was empty. Every time a car drove by and it wasn't the Weasleys, Aunt Petunia would make a clicking noise in the back of her throat and check the grandfather clock near the doorway.

Though Harry now knew why he had to return to the Dursleys every summer, he didn't find it any more comforting. It was his family blood, used for protection. Some sort of ancient magic that it seemed Voldemort didn't even understand. He wanted to ask his aunt about it so bad that the question was burning on the tip of his tongue every afternoon they spent alone together.

But he didn't care anymore. His time at the Dursleys was over. And Harry knew that if he could be happy anywhere, it would be at the Burrow.

A sleek black car pulled into the driveway. Uncle Vernon looked quite surprised as Mr. Weasley stepped out of the car. "Well, well, it looks like they're getting a little better at this." Mr. Weasley was wearing a very fashionable gray pinstripe suit with a silk purple tie. Ron was wearing a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt as he followed his father to the front door.

"Oh! I've heard of these!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed. "They're called doorbells - an excellent alarm system for announcing visitors!" Harry quickly ran to the entrance just as he heard Mr. Weasley whisper to Ron, "Am I supposed to push this button once, or a few times to make sure they hear it?"

Harry opened the door. "Hello, Harry!" Mr. Weasley greeted. "Ready to go, then?"

"Just need my trunk and Hedwig," Harry replied.

"I'll help," Ron said and the two of them retreated to the hallway, where Harry had his things packed.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia approached him carefully. "How do you do, Dursley?"

Uncle Vernon looked as though he had just smelled something rancid. "Fine."

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat again in the awkward silence. "Lovely weather today, isn't it?"

Uncle Vernon didn't say anything. Harry quickly walked between them with his trunk and Ron followed behind him with Hedwig and her cage. "Er... We'd better get going."

"Righto, Harry." Mr. Weasley said. "Goodbye." He glared at Harry's aunt and uncle. Harry feared for a moment that there was going to be another episode like when Mr. Weasley picked him up for the Quidditch World Cup, and Mr. Weasley had demanded that they say goodbye to Harry. But this time, he didn't say anything.

"Good - goodbye, Harry," Aunt Petunia said quietly.

Harry felt an odd lurch somewhere in his stomach. Uncle Vernon's face turned very, very red and then very, very purple. "See you next summer, then," Harry replied, and quickly shut the front door, afraid that his uncle's screaming would disturb the entire neighborhood.

Ron eyed Harry nervously as they made their way to the car and put Harry's trunk inside. "That was odd."

Harry nodded in agreement. "These past four weeks haven't really been too terrible, actually."

"You look good, Harry," Mr. Weasley said. "They must have been feeding you properly."

"You look different," Ron agreed. "In a good way, of course."

He could feel himself blushing. Lupin had said the same thing. "I guess I've just done some growing up, that's all."

"In more ways than one," Mr. Weasley added. He sighed and took the car keys out of his back pocket. "Now, I may regret doing this, but Ron, I believe it is your turn to drive." A giant grin broke out on to Ron's face. "Harry, I suggest you get in the backseat and fasten your seat belt. Tight," he added.

"You have nothing to worry about," Ron announced. "I've drove before. It's not a big deal."

"This is a bit different than flying an Anglia ," Mr. Weasley said. "There's no traffic in the skies. There are, however, a lot of pedestrians and other cars on the road."

"Pedestrians?"

"Muggles," Mr. Weasley replied. "You know, people crossing the street."

"Right," Ron said.

"Are we driving all the way to the Burrow?" Harry questioned. Ottery St. Catchpole was quite a ways away from Privet Drive.

"No, just to London," Mr. Weasley replied, "if we don't crash first."

The three of them made it to London without incident. Ron was feeling very smug with himself by the end of the drive. Mr. Weasley asked Harry if he'd like to give it a try, but Harry refused. It didn't feel right. He tried to remind himself of how he'd felt when Dudley was out riding around with his friends. A car was nothing compared to flying on his Firebolt.

From the ministry, they traveled by Floo Powder to the Burrow. Harry's trunk unbalanced him and he nearly fell out of the fireplace, but he had managed to collect himself and moved out of the way before Ron arrived with Hedwig.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, rushing over to him and giving him a hug. "How was your summer?"

"All right," Harry said honestly. "How was yours?"

"Amazing," Hermione replied. "My parents took me to New York for a week. It was one of the most beautiful cities I've ever seen!"

"Who knew dentists were so well-traveled?" Ron laughed, wiping some soot off his shoulders.

"Welcome back, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley greeted as she hustled into the room. Without warning, she threw her arms around Harry in a fierce hug. Harry was thrown off-balance. Mrs. Weasley had always treated him like one of her own. When Mr. Weasley had been in St. Mungo's last year, she pulled him into the room with the "family only" restriction. He felt awkward about it then, and he still wasn't quite sure about how he felt as a surrogate member of the already full Weasley family.

"Now, Molly, don't crowd him," Mr. Weasley scolded.

"Sorry, dear. It's just so good to see you. You look wonderful."

"Er, thanks," Harry replied. An unsettling silence filled the air. Everyone was staring at him again. Had he really changed that much? He was just about to make an excuse to leave the room - anything to get so many pairs of eyes off of him - when the enchanted grandfather clock in the corner of the room caught his eye.

The clock was a great magical relic. It didn't tell the time, but had nine hands for each member of the Weasley family. There were no numbers, but it had things like "home," "school," "work," and "mortal peril" where the numbers would be. Harry realized that every hand but Percy's was pointing at "home," which was an odd coincidence. Why were Bill and Charlie home? But what was even more startling was that he now counted ten hands on the clock. He had his own hand and it was also pointing at "home."

Harry was shocked. Home? Was the Burrow really his home? The only place he'd ever felt really at home was at Hogwarts. But the Burrow was Ron's home; it wasn't his. And it wasn't that the Weasleys weren't great to him, it was just that he would never really quite fit in the family full of redheads.

"About the clock, dear..." Mrs. Weasley said. "I hope you don't mind."

Harry smiled. "No, not at all." He was actually feeling flattered that they cared enough.

"Yeah, Harry's in mortal peril so often anyways," Ginny said, joining them in the living room. Harry didn't look at her. He felt ashamed. He didn't want anyone fussing over him.

"Well, I'm afraid that you lot are never far behind him," Mrs. Weasley said sadly. Harry remembered when she was trying to battle a boggart last year at Grimmauld Place, and each time she tried to get rid of it, she would see another one of her children dead.

The sad truth was that Harry always did put his friends in danger, and that he always felt the need to rescue them, whether it was in their best interest or not. And a lot of his friends happened to be members of the Weasley family.

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Did you bring your N.E.W.T. form?"

"My what?"

"That form that you got with your O.W.L. letter. We need to sign up for our classes and send the letters back before the end of the week."

"Hermione, I'm sure Harry doesn't want to do that right now," Ron said.

"Actually, I did have a few things I wanted to ask you about this year," Harry said. There had been questions brewing in his mind ever since he got his O.W.L. results.

"That's a good idea," Mrs. Weasley said. "Dinner will be ready in a flash. Why don't all of you sit down at the kitchen table and get to work on your letters? Fred and George will take your trunk up to Ron's room and I'll go let Hedwig out."

Ron let out a groan as the three of them went into the kitchen and took a seat at the big oak table. Harry saw that outside, Bill, Charlie, and Ginny, were setting up a large table for dinner. Harry remembered his first time at the Burrow, the summer before his second year, when the entire Weasley family had been together for one meal. It had been one of the most comfortable moments of his life.

Ron retrieved his letter from a nearby countertop and plopped into a chair beside Harry. "Why is everybody here?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?" Ron said, flipping over his results.

"I mean, why are Bill and Charlie home? Does it have something to do with the Order?"

Ron grinned. "No. It's just because it's summer holiday. That's all."

Hermione scoffed. "Doesn't it feel rather weird without Percy?"

"I'd say it feels very relaxed without that traitor," George spat, apparating in the chair next to her. He looking very slick a dragon hide coat. He seemed to be growing out his hair like Bill's, as it was rather long compared to Fred's.

"He's not a traitor. Everybody makes mistakes."

"Don't stick up for him, Hermione," Ron said.

"Well somebody ought to!" she cried. "He can't speak for himself when he's not even welcome in his own home."

"Oh he's welcome," George said. "He's welcome to come home and explain himself to me."

"And me," Fred added as he entered the kitchen.

"Why don't you two go outside and help Ginny with the table settings?" Mrs. Weasley said. It was more a command than a request, and, quite reluctantly, the twins headed outside into the backyard. "I'm sorry, Harry," Mrs. Weasley apologized. "Things are a bit... fierce around here lately." And with a sad sigh, she followed the twins outside.

"If anybody should be apologizing, it's Percy," Ron muttered. "The way he treated mum and dad... It still gets me riled up." There was a hint of heat in his cheeks as he slammed his fist on the table. Hermione made a clicking sound of disapproval in the back of her throat, but said nothing.

The screen door opened and slammed shut in the kitchen and Ginny walked in. Harry glanced up at her. She looked different too. Her hair was longer and curlier - and even redder, if that was possible. She was taller, and it looked as though her hips had filled out a little.

She was staring back at Harry with a mirrored expression of interest on her face. Harry was suddenly very glad for all those anger management sessions he'd spent boxing in the Dursleys' basement. "Hello, Harry!" she greeted. "How was your summer holiday?"

"It was fine," he answered, finding his voice. "Er, how was yours?"

"Uneventful," she replied, eying him up and down. There was a spark in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before. "Well, I just came in to grab some napkins." She held up some squares of cloth, then headed back out the door.

Harry turned back to the table, and Ron was grinning madly away. "D'you like Ginny?" he asked. Hermione immediately kicked him under the table, but it was too late, the question had already been asked.

"Of course I like Ginny," Harry replied. "But not... not like that."

"Why not?" Ron questioned, looking offended. "Is she not good enough? Pretty enough? I know she's not Cho, but..."

Wanting to immediately steer the subject of the conversation away from Cho Chang, Harry interrupted, "Isn't she going out with Dean?"

Ron laughed. "Harry, that was just something she said to get me riled up on the train ride home," he said. "She didn't really choose Dean. It was just a joke."

"Shows what you know," Hermione declared. Ron looked shocked, but before he could say anything, Hermione lifted a hand to silence him. "What kind of questions did you have about the letter, Harry?"

Harry thought back to two nights before, when he had re-read his O.W.L. results in his bedroom. "The form is easy enough to fill out," he said, "but I don't understand. Why do we only sign up for five classes? Won't we have loads of free time?"

"We have loads of free time because we have loads of homework," Hermione answered. "Twice the homework, twice as difficult. If you thought last year was bad, sixth year is even worse."

"Some people - like Fred and George - only take four classes," Ron said.

"But if we're going to be Aurors," Hermione said quietly, "we're going to need at least five N.E.W.T.s, which means we need five classes. I thought about taking six, but I don't want to stretch myself too thin."

"Oh, what's the point?" Ron said helplessly. "I'm not even going to get to take Snape's stupid Potions class. Maybe it's a sign I should give up."

"Do you really want to be an Auror, Ron?" Hermione demanded. "I mean, do you really want to, or are you just saying that because Harry and I want to?"

Ron frowned. "What kind of question is that? Of course I want to be an Auror!"

"Then stop whining!" Hermione cried. "This will work out, I know it will. But in the meantime, you should figure out what classes you're going to take."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm going to take the same ones as you," Harry muttered. "Except potions, of course." It was hard to picture being in Potions without Ron. Snape would have to take him into the N.E.W.T. class. He had to.

"Well, McGonagall told me that students who aspired to be future Aurors needed at least five classes, and four of them had to be Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms." Hermione produced a quill from somewhere and began checking off the classes on her form. "Oh dear, I guess this comes down to choosing between taking Ancient Runes and Arithmacy."

"I'm not taking either of those," Ron said quickly. "I was thinking more along the lines of Care of Magical Creatures or something."

"All three of you should take Muggle Studies," Mr. Weasley said, entering the room, leading some chairs outside with his wand. "Especially this year." Harry watched as the chairs danced out the door and into place at the huge table, which Mrs. Weasley was now filling with food.

"Hey, that's a great idea!" Ron said. "Muggle Studies is an easy class - it's an easy good grade."

"But can we take Muggle Studies? We've never had that class before," Harry said, frowning.

"Sure we can." Ron pointed at the form. "It says the only requirement is an O.W.L. We passed a lot of O.W.L.s. We definitely qualify. And besides, you've lived as a Muggle with the Dursleys - you'll have no problem."

Harry considered it. Any class where a grade was easy sounded too good to be true. But maybe Ron was right. He'd lived as a Muggle for the first eleven years of his life; learning about it all over again wouldn't be that hard. "I'm in," Harry said.

"Excellent. What do you say, 'Mione?" Ron asked.

"No way," she replied. "Both my parents are Muggles. I wouldn't learn a thing."

"That's the beauty of it!" Ron said. "Just think: an exam you don't have to study for."

"No thanks. I think I'll stick to a real education, thank you very much."

Harry looked at his own form and checked off the classes he wanted to take. It would be odd, not having Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, or sleeping through a lesson on the History of Magic with the ghostly Professor Binns. "Do you think Hagrid will mind we're not taking his class?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. "It's only a year off. Wait 'til seventh."