Chapter 22
Life at the Burrow was strange. In some ways it reminded Tim of Wayne Manor. The house was rarely quiet. Weird explosions came from Fred and George’s room with slightly alarming frequency and even in the dead of the night, Tim heard the ghoul in the attic banging pipes together. Mrs Weasley was like a more intense Alfred, fussing over Tim and Harry and making sure they ate double servings at every meal. Everyone always seemed interested in their day, asking them questions and not doing that little sigh that Tim’s mother always did when he talked for too long. It was confusing. He had no idea how a normal family was supposed to behave. Was this normal? Tim didn’t know.
Despite the similarities, Tim had never felt further from Wayne Manor. He wrote to Damian every day but Hedwig still hadn’t returned to deliver them. Tim didn’t want to risk breaking his phone by using it in such a magical house but there was a muggle village nearby. As long as they were accompanied by Percy or the twins, Harry and Tim were allowed to walk into town and spend the day there. While Fred and George flirted with a pretty pair of muggle girls, Tim and Harry spent the day huddled around a phone. They had yet to talk to anyone but Damian, knowing Jason, Dick and Bruce wouldn’t understand why they had to leave. Tim didn’t want to leave any clues for Bruce to find them. He knew Bruce would try and bring them home and Tim didn’t know if he had the strength to say no.
It was only when Amelia’s face flashed into his mind, that Tim was certain he made the right decision.
The days passed in a haze of confusion, guilt, interspersed with a happiness that only made the other emotions stronger. In the village, Tim and Harry completed their year nine exams and finished their summer homework from Hogwarts. It might have been a relief but Tim missed the reason to get out of bed. At least the work had been a distraction.
Whenever he did leave Ron’s room, Tim kept glancing around at anything that moved. He half-expected to see Dumbledore or Voldemort turn up on the doorstep. He wasn’t entirely sure who would be worse.
One morning, two weeks into their stay at the Burrow, Tim’s routine was interrupted by a letter from Hogwarts. The Weasley family were all sitting around the breakfast eating bacon and eggs. The quiet morning was broken by a loud THUD outside and Tim saw something soft and grey slide down the window.
“Errol,” Ron jumped up and ran over to the window, sounding both concerned and exasperated. He caught the great grey owl before he fell and carried him gently to the table. In Errol’s clutches were several letters with a familiar wax crests.
“Letters from school,” Mrs Weasley said, distributing them out. “And looks there’re ones for you and Harry.”
Tim took his letter and broke the seal, tugging out a piece of parchment. He scanned the school list, noting the full set of Lockhart books. Whoever their new defence against the darks arts teacher was must be a fan. That didn’t speak well about their ability to teach.
On the other side of the table, Ron bit his lip and looked up at Mrs Weasley. “Did all of you get Lockhart’s books?”
“Yep,” Fred handed his list over, “hey Ginny. If we go to Diagon Alley today, Lockhart might even sign your copies.”
“I don’t know,” Ginny said, putting down Mrs Weasley’s copy of Magical Me that she was re-reading. She put on a fake, awed voice, “the first time I met a Grindelow, I wasn’t even scared. In fact, it was the Grindelow that was scared. It took one look at me and swam away. That’s how scared it was. Just imagine meeting the author behind those words, I might swoon on sight.”
“That’s enough of that,” Mrs Weasley said, reproachfully, “if it wasn’t for Lockhart, the lake at Hogwarts would still be filled with Grindelows. I shudder to think what would have happened to any student unlucky enough to meet one.”
“Aren’t Lockhart books really expensive?” Ron broke into the conversation, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“You let me worry about that,” Mrs Weasley said, “I imagine we can get most of Ginny’s things second hand.” Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged a look, glancing over at Tim and Harry.
“Do you boys have a way to buy your own school supplies? I know your parents are muggles…” Mrs Weasley started to say.
“Our parents gave us money for school,” Tim quickly cut in. He knew money was tight with seven children and the last thing he wanted was for Mrs Weasley to feel she had to pay for them. She had already offered them her home without ever asking for anything in return.
“That’s good,” Mrs Weasley said though she frowned at the mention of Tim’s parents. “We should probably leave for Diagon Alley soon if we want to beat the rush.”
It took half an hour or so for everyone to finish breakfast and get dressed for the day. They huddled around the Weasley’s huge, stone fireplace and Tim suspected he knew exactly how they were getting to the alley. From the slight greenish tinge on Harry’s face, so did he.
“Try not to swallow so much ash this time,” Tim, nudged Harry.
“But it tastes so good,” Harry said in a deadpan voice.
“I’ll go first,” Ginny said, still clutching Lockhart’s autobiography. She grabbed a fistful of green powder and threw it into the fireplace making the orange flames turn a bright green. Without so much as flinching, she stepped straight into the fireplace and was swept away. Tim followed after her, anxious to be there for Harry when he came out on the other end. He wondered just how far people could travel with floo powder. If he set up the grate at Wayne Manor…Tim shook his head. It didn’t matter now.
“Diagon Alley,” Tim said clearly and felt the same uncomfortably swooping sensation in his gut. It was worse than a port key. His vision was assaulted by flashes of green and peeks through other random fireplaces. It was like falling down an endless well and just praying there was water at the bottom. He closed his eyes and let himself relax, tucking his elbows in when they hit against something hard. Just when he thought he would never escape, he was thrust through a fireplace at the other end and crashed straight into Ginny.
“Sorry,” Tim straightened, brushing off the soot.
“I shouldn’t have stood so close to the fireplace,” Ginny dismissed Tim’s apology. They waited together for the others to appear. Tim was relieved to see Harry, catching him before he broke his glasses on the floor.
“You found the right fireplace,” Tim said, casting a wandless tergio on his glasses.
“I regret everything,” Harry moaned, leaning into Tim.
“I think it’s best if we split up,” Mr Weasley, hurried the group away from the fireplace and crowds. They found a slightly secluded corner beside a shop selling crystal balls and tarot cards. “I can take you five to get the books and Molly can find robes for Ginny.”
“I can shop independently, father,” Percy said, looking at the other Weasleys like he was embarrassed to share the same genes as them.
“And I want to see Lockhart,” Ginny piped up, “his book signing should start at twelve.”
“Alright,” Mrs Weasley said slowly, “Youngest with me,” she beckoned for Ginny, Ron, Harry and Tim. “Fred, George you go with Arthur and Percy promise me you’ll be careful. We can all meet at Flourish and Blotts at twelve.”
“I’m always careful, mother,” Percy huffed. He went to sidle away from the others when Mrs Weasley called to bring him back.
“Hold on. We’ll need to stop off at Gringotts first.”
Percy sighed.
The kart ride down to the Weasley’s vault didn’t take long. Tim tried not to look as Mrs Weasley swept the entire contents of their Gringotts vault into her handbag. It was a bit of a relief that he had taken enough money out for school supplies before they’d arrived at The Burrow. He didn’t want to answer questions about why there was so much money in storage for a supposed muggle family.
Mrs Weasley divided a little of the money up between Arthur and Percy, leaving the rest in her bag. She waved the other goodbye and ushered Ron, Harry, Tim and Ginny towards a second hand clothes store.
“I am sure we can find some robes here for you Ginny,” she said, pushing the open with a light twinkling sound. The shop was dim and crowded with racks upon racks of different clothes, both muggle and magical. “And you’ll need some more socks, Ron. The one’s you’re wearing have worn thin.”
“I could just the twin’s old robes,” Tim overheard Ginny say as he inspected some dress robes that looked like they hadn’t been worn since the 18th century. There was far too much lace on the thing and why would anyone make clothes in mud brown?
“Those are boys robes,” Mrs Weasley sounded scandalised, “I won’t send you to Hogwarts as the only girl wearing pants.”
“I think I’ll survive,” Ginny said dryly.
“Come on,” Ron led them away from Ginny and Mrs Weasley, his ears turning pink. “We don’t have to stay in here. I know you don’t need to get anything second hand.”
“Ooh books,” Tim saw a shelf with a whole selection of worn covers. He riffled through the collection looking for anything interesting.
“All my clothes used to be second hand,” Harry said to Ron, slinging an around him.
“If you’re really worried about money,” Tim took a promising book off the shelf, “I’m sure there are ways to make some on the side. Do you still have the galleons from all those chess games?”
Ron nodded. “I’m saving up for a broom,” He admitted, “second years are allowed to play and…not that I think I’ll get on the team in second year and I still need twenty more galleons.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Harry said, “if you try out for the Gryffindor team next year, so will I.”
“Really?” Ron lit up, “it would be so cool if we were on the team together.” He went off, talking about a new broom that came out this year and what the benefits were compared to the last nimbus model. Tim listened to all of it, relaxing somewhat as they fell into familial banter. The last two weeks at The Burrow had been somewhat stilted as Tim struggled to find the right things to say to his friend. It would be good once school started and he didn’t have the time to think so much about Gotham.
Mrs Weasley and Ginny finished up their clothes shopping and called Ron, Tim and Harry back over. The five of them gradually collected more and more bags as they went from the second hand store to the apothecary, stationary store, owlery and at last Olivanders. Ginny destroyed half the shop before she found her wand. It was made of coral bark maple, a touch darker red than Ginny’s hair with a phoenix feather core. She held it close to her, admiring the slight colour gradient from the tip of the wand to its base.
“That is a powerful wand,” Ollivander said in that voice that made Tim’s hairs stand on end, “stubborn but powerful. I’ve found coral wands have a life of their own. I would be careful wielding it when your focus is elsewhere.”
“Thanks Mr Ollivander,” Ginny tucked the wand into her pocket. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”
They left to store and Mrs Weasley checked her watch. “It’s nearly twelve. We should start making our way to Flourish and Blotts.” She turned to Ginny and put her hands on her hips. “You are not to harass Lockhart when we get there. He doesn’t need to hear your opinions on his writing.”
Ginny smiled up innocently, clutching the autobiography. “I’ll only have nice things to say, mum,” she promised but when Mrs Weasley’s back was turned she fell in step with Tim and Harry and whispered. “I really hope there are cameras.”
Tim didn’t know what Ginny had planned but for the first time in two weeks he felt an emotion other than guilt or confusion: excitement. This was sure to be entertaining.