New Day

By twelve o'clock, Sunday afternoon, Harry, Lisa, and Hermione were all packed for the Weasleys. Harry still hadn’t written back to Draco, and since the morning, Ulysses had been pestering him, flying around his head and pecking him whenever Harry wasn’t paying attention to him. Before leaving, he crossed off the next couple days on his calendar and headed to the drawing room-- before he made it past the stairs, however, he'd been stopped by Mrs Black’s portrait. Her curtains were already open; He must've just missed her screaming-- he'd started to ignore it after the first month. She nodded at him and spoke, very curtly, “Hello, Harry,”

“Hello, grandmother,” said Harry automatically. 

Mrs Black had been surprisingly cordial to him. She did, however, insist on being called Grandmother, not caring that she was no longer alive, and the moment he stepped into her field of view, she was- according to Sirius- more delightful than she'd ever been. Harry found himself feeling odd that he was getting used to it. Though more odd than her liking for Harry, Mrs Black seemed to hate Hermione. Harry wondered why; They were twins, and there wasn't much of a difference between them. Hermione, though clearly uncomfortable, still smiled, waved, and said hello to Mrs Black every time she passed the portrait, if the curtains were open. Mrs Black wouldn't scream at her, but she wasn't nice, either.

Mrs Black stared pointedly at Ulysses, whose eyes narrowed. "This is your... lover's... bird, is it?"

"Lover's-" Harry's face suddenly burned, and he shook his head. "I- no, we're not... well, not exactly.... Th- the bird's name is Ulysses."

"Hmm," Mrs Black looked as though she didn't believe him. "He's on the family tapestry, is he not?"

"He-- is," said Harry, "Draco is."

"Oh, Narcissa's child," said Mrs Black leisurely, "and he's pure, yes, dear?"

"Yes... grandmother..."

"Very good," She nodded. "The Malfoys are a fairly reputable family indeed... and any child of Narcissa's must have some sense. Remind me, you are--?"

"Do you mean how old I am?" Harry asked. For a moment, he nearly said thirteen -- he had to remind himself that it had been just short of three weeks since his birthday. "Fourteen."

Mrs Black hummed. "You are rather young to marry... but there is always time... and I assume courting is always an option. We are only fortunate in this circumstance that it is not another female..." 

"Marry? Cour-- wh- what ?" Harry had only caught bits and pieces, too busy trying to stop Ulysses from getting into his trunk, but he did not like the sound of what she'd said.  

"Yes, marry. If it comes to it, then yes, a courting may be in order-- it is rather frequent in the family. You will have to continue the family lineage, naturally, and as for..." Mrs Black paused and clicked her tongue. "You may fool whoever you like, but your grandmother is not stupid . The only male child my son ever had was your brother."

Harry's face burned. Ulysses had just flown up and sat upon his trunk, trying to claw into it again, reminding him that he had the perfect excuse to leave. "Right, okay- okay, I- I have to go. I'll be late."

"This isn't over," said Mrs Black sharply. 

Harry nodded, easing Ulysses talons off his trunk. "Yeah, yeah, 'course not."

Hermione was the first to notice him as he entered the drawing room. "We heard grandmother’s portrait," she said. "What were you talking about?"

"Er," Harry started, scratching his neck. He could feel his face and ears burning to the point his eyes began to burn too. "Nothing. She's just... being... er... crazy, is all."

"Crazy's quite generous," muttered Sirius.

"What was she talking about, though?" asked Hermione again.

"Just a stuff about the family, I guess," Harry lied, hoping they didn't see through him. "I- er- I didn't pay much attention. Couldn't really catch on."

Sirius patted Hermione's shoulder, "You can just leave it, kid. Trust me, if he's saying that old hag was being crazy, she probably was."

She fell silent, fiddling with her fingers and her face red.

"Well, we ought to get going, soon," Remus said, glancing at the clock on above the fireplace.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. How are we--?"

"Oh, you're going to love this," Lisa was smiling largely. "We're going by floo."

Harry couldn't help that he scoffed. He did not like floo-travel in the slightest. It made him incredibly sick, and his first time ever going anywhere by floo, he'd ended up down Knockturn Alley, an alley off of Diagon Alley that was much darker, filled to the brim with people and oddities anyone may expect.

"Right then, we're all ready?" Lily stepped in behind him. When they all nodded, she moved past them and to the tall, dusty fireplace in the corner. The brick had growing mould-- most of which had been cleaned off the last time they were in here-- and was dirty to the point it looked as though it lacked colour. "Incendio!" Shortly, with a wave of her wand, a bit of powder from the bowl on the mantle went right for it, and the normal-coloured flames turned a vibrant green and rose very high.

"Hermione, you first," Lily said, stepping aside to let Hermione go forward. She climbed into the fireplace and got her trunk situated with her, and cried out, "the Burrow!"

With a whoosh, she was gone. Lisa went up next. She threw her duffel bag over her shoulder-- it thudded loudly against the brick, but she paid it no mind, saying, "the Burrow!"

Then it was Harry's turn. Despite the likelihood that nothing bad would happen, there was a pit in his chest as he remembered what happened in his second year. Nonetheless, he dragged along his trunk and put it the best he could. Then, only once he was sure he was alright, he shouted out, "the Burrow!"

The green fire clouded his vision, and he forced his eyes shut as he spun faster and faster, fireplaces going by in a blur, his trunk clutched to his side. He wouldn't admit it, but he was beginning to think he liked the aspect of Apparating more than Flooing. 

When he felt a sudden breeze, he quickly threw out his hands; And just in time, too, because he avoided falling face first onto the Weasley's kitchen floor. Hermione and Lisa both helped him to his feet as he adjusted his glasses.

Suddenly, the tiny kitchen exploded with laughter. As Lily came walking out the fire, just after Quinn, with Crookshanks in her arms, Crookshanks must've been startled, for he leaped and scurried underneath the dining table. Harry quickly spotted the source; Ron and Fred sat at the table with two red-haired people Harry hadn't seen before, but he could easily guess that they were Bill and Charlie, the two eldest Weasley brothers.

The brother closest to him threw out a hand for him to shake; "How 'ya doing, Harry?"

"Alright," Harry answered, feeling calluses and blisters under his fingers. It had to have been Charlie, who worked with dragons out in Romania. He was built quite like the twins, Fred and George, who both played Quidditch– though he was shorter and stockier than all either of them, as the twins were as tall as Ron and Percy, who were both tall and lanky. He had a kind face, though incredibly sunburnt and freckled. A shiny burn on his arm didn't pass Harry's notice.

Then Bill got to his feet, also shaking Harry's hand. He was a bit of a surprise to see-- having worked for Gringotts and been Head Boy at Hogwarts, Harry suspected he would've been much like Percy, fussy about rule-breaking and overly fond of being bossy. But instead, he was- for lack of a better word-- cool . He was tall, taller than any of his brothers, and even Mr Weasley himself- with long hair tied back into a ponytail. In one ear, he wore a single earring with what looked like a chipped fang dangling from it, and the other was filled from lobe to point with shining rings and jewels; and given that he, like the rest of his family, had long ears, it was many more than Harry would've imagined any Weasley would ever have. His clothes reminded Harry of Sirius, who frequently looked as though he were some kind of young punk-- the only thing of note were his boots, which were evidently dragon hide. 

Mr Weasley walked into the kitchen, looking very angry. Fred and George immediately burst into laughter. 

"George, Fred, that was not funny!" Mr Weasley scolded, and George shrugged blankly. "Well, it may have been a bit funny, da’! I never told him to eat it, he insisted!"

"What happened?" asked Lisa, shaking hands with Charlie.

Mr Weasley stammered out, "They fed a poor boy in the village one of their- their--"

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," George and Fred both said, beaming cheerily. "We invented them. We've been looking for someone to test them on all summer, it's not our fault he just so happened to volunteer!" Fred said, and George continued. "His tongue grew to be atleast four feet before Dad shrunk it back to normal! Now we know we need to make adjustments!"

The kitchen rumbled with laughter once more, this time, Harry, Lisa, and Hermione laughing as well.

"It's not funny!" Mr Weasley repeated. "That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard-muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons--"

"Aw, no, come on, Da, it's not like that!" Fred said quickly. "We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!"

"We gave it to him because he's a great git! Been bullying the other village kids! They found it funny too! When they got over the shock!" George explained.

"That's not the point, boys!" Mr Weasley shouted. "You wait until I tell your mother, the trouble you'll be in--"

"Tell me what?"

Mrs Weasley had just entered the kitchen-- she was a short, plump woman with a kind face, though her eyes were narrow at the moment, looking around suspiciously. Harry didn't miss the second glance she took at the twins. "Oh! Harry, Lisa, Hermione! Lovely to see you all! Lily, Quinn," She nodded kindly, flashing them a smile before snapping back to Mr Weasley. "Tell me what , Arthur?"

Mr Weasley hesitated; He obviously hadn't actually intended to tell Mrs Weasley. There was a deafening silence as he nervously met his wife's eyes. Then, a small redhead walked in behind Mrs Weasley; The youngest Weasley, and the only daughter, Ginny. "Hermione! You're here!" She said excitedly, spotting Hermione. 

"Tell me what , Arthur?" Mrs Weasley repeated, her tone dangerous.

"Nothing, Molly," said Mr Weasley. "Fred and George-- they- well, I've had words with them--"

"What have they done this time?" Mrs Weasley urged, eyeing the twins angrily. "If it's got even a thing to do with Weasleys' Wizard-- Wh- Wheezes--"

"Gin, how about we go up to your room so I can unpack my things?" Hermione suggested, and Ginny nodded in understanding. "Yup. Bet you're tired of holding that. It's just upstairs, you know,"

"We'll come too," said George, and Fred nodded, getting to his feet. "More hands, more help--"

"You will stay right where you are!" Mrs Weasley snapped, as Hermione and Ginny quickly scrambled upstairs. 

"What's Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" Harry asked lowly, and Ron forced back laughter. 

"Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning their room," he whispered. "These great long prices for stuff they've invented. Joke stuff, you know, their specialty. Fake wands, trick sweets, y'know, loads of stuff. I thought it was brilliant-- I had no clue they were even interested in making that sort of stuff themselves... think they’re pretty good at it, don’t get why mum’s mad."

"It checks out," Lisa whispered. "I heard a while back that they had this shop going up in one of the bathrooms. Thought it was just some rumor or whatever, but I never got around to checking it out myself."

"Now that I think about it, most of the newer stuff-- well, all of it, really-- was sorta... dangerous," Ron continued. "and, you know, they were planning on selling some of it at Hogwarts for some extra pocket money, and Mum went berserk on them. Told them they weren't allowed to make any more, and burned the order forms.... But, then again, she's been pissed off anyway. They didn't get as many O.W.L.s as she expected."

O.W.L.s-- Ordinary Wizarding Levels-- were examinations Hogwarts students took in their fifth year. Whenever they spoke about them at the end of the previous year, Harry thought the number was rather acceptable, but, he supposed, when you were the next one to take the tests after Percy, who'd gotten 12, which was the best you could get, there was only so much that could be done unless you did the same.

"Didn't help when they told her they planned on running a joke shop," Charlie chimed in. "I got home right in the middle of her telling them off. Never seen her so angry, I swear. And Percy's been acting just like her--"

"How has Percy been? Haven't seen him the whole time we've been here." Lisa asked. Ron, Charlie, and Bill all scoffed.

"Lucky you. He's the family's newest Ministry worker, Mum's real proud of him," Ron explained, and both Lisa and Harry couldn't help but scoff too. It made a lot of sense for him.

Suddenly, Quinn gasped; he'd been reaching under the table for Crookshanks, but the cat fled and made a break for the outside-- he didn't seem to suspect that Quinn would chase after him, however. After a moment, it seemed that while Crookshanks was avoiding Quinn and gotten distracted, now chasing after a gnome. 

"Ah, well," Lily huffed, smiling. "Pardon me, but- you don't mind if Crookshanks stays here, do you, Molly? Well, me and Quinn won't be staying long, but I think he might like an extended stay..."

Mrs Weasley turned to her, smiling brightly. "Of course not! He can stay as long as the children are here." She turned back to Mr Weasley, her smile long gone. "Arthur, what did I tell you about--"

And very soon, she was scolding him about letting Fred and George leave the house with pockets full of candies. 

“We ought to get upstairs before this gets loud,” Ron nodded for the door. 

Harry, Ron, and Lisa slipped out of the kitchen and along down to the staircase to the rickety staircase that zigzagged through the house’s upper stories.

“Don’t think mum’s ever gotten into an argument with them like that before,” Ron continued. “I mean, sometimes, Fred doesn’t really catch what he says ‘till after he’s said it, so that pisses her right off... but, er, normally, he and George don’t really yell back . Think they’re tired of her. She’s spent the whole summer angry at them, wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like da... but, right, they want to start that joke shop...”

“Why would she want them to go into the Ministry?” asked Lisa. “It’s--"

Before the could finish, a door on the second landing opened. A freckled face poked out, wearing horn-rimmed glasses and an annoyed expression. 

“‘Lo, Percy,” said Harry. 

“Er,” Percy didn’t look very delighted to see them-- if he ever did. “Harry, Lisa. I was wondering who was making all the noise... I’m trying to work in here, you know-- I’ve got a report to finish for the office-- and it’s rather difficult to concentrate when people ‘re thundering up and down the stairs--"

“We’re not thundering , Perse,” said Ron with a scoff. “That’s mum and the twins in the kitchen. Notice, we’re walking normally . What, you mess up on some- uh- super secret workings of the Ministry?”

“Actually, what are you working on?” Lisa asked. 

It was only now that Percy looked delighted, and he smirked, “A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Trying to standardise cauldron thickness, see. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin, leakages are increasing-- nearly three percent a year--"

“Oh, that’ll just change the whole world, won’t it,” Ron forced a smirk identical to Percy’s. “You going for the front page of the Prophet? Bet you’ll make a good name-drop-- cauldron leak reports of a total dork make headlines with old folks.”

Percy snarled, though it didn’t hide his pink face nor his fallen ears. “You might sneer, Ron, but you’re too young to get it. Unless some international law is imposed, we might well lfind the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products that seriously endanger--”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, ya’ berk,” said Ron, and he started off upstairs again. Percy slammed his door shut. As the three of them continued upstairs, shouts from the kitchen echoed up to them. It sounded as though Mr Weasley had told Mrs Weasley about the toffees.

The room at the top of the house where Ron slept looked much as it had the last time Harry had come to stay; the same posters of Ron’s favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, were whirling and waving on the walls and sloping ceiling, and the fish tank on the windowsill, which used to be filled with frog spawn, now contained only one extremely large frog. Ron’s old rat, Scabbers, was no longer there; Ron had placed his school books from the previous years in its place.

“You’re probably with Gin, Lisa-- and the twins are gonna be up here with us, Haz, since Bill and Charlie are in their room,” Ron muttered. “Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because he’s got to work .” 

Lisa scoffed. “As if. What’s the point of having a place you’re supposed to go to work if you’re just going to do the work at home? I mean, like, sometimes it makes sense, but he goes to work, right? It’s not, like, homework .”

“Oh, he wishes he could stay at work ‘till he dies. Only reason he comes home is ‘cos da makes him. He’s downright obsessed-- cauldrons ‘n stuff are just his latest . And don’t get me started on his boss -- according to Mr Crouch... as I was saying to Mr Crouch... Mr Crouch is fond of the opinion... Mr Crouch was telling me... they’ll be announcing their engagement any day now. I just hope Perse doesn't decorate...”

“Sounds like he’s been preparing for that job since we met him,” said Harry. “Just a lot more boring than I would've expected.”

“Huh, you’re telling me.”

“I’m so hungry,” said Lisa, looking miserable. “I should’ve eaten breakfast.” 

“Didn’t you eat lunch?” Harry smiled.

“I was asleep!” 

Ron was trying his best to force down a smile as he spoke, “We already ate lunch. Even- I bet mum’s preparing dinner soon. Ooh, wait--”

He paused and seemed to be listening out for something. 

“They’ve stopped arguing! Merlin, finally!”

Lisa stared at him. 

“Alright, alright, we can go ask about some food."

When they got back downstairs, Mrs Weasley was alone, pacing the kitchen and looked extremely bad-tempered. 

“Oh, we’ll be eating in the garden,” she said, when Lisa asked. “There’s just not room for, what’s that, fourteen people in here. Lisa, could you go help Hermione and Ginny get the rest of the plates outside? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables-- they ought to be ready now. Boys, you two can take out the knives and forks.” She pointed her wand more vigorously than she intended at the pile of potatoes in the sink, and they shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling.

“Oh for heaven’s sake !” she snapped, directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and began to skate across the floor, scooping up the skins. “Those two!” she shrieked, pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard, and Harry knew at once she meant Fred and George. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to them in life, I really don’t. It won’t end well for them... with no ambition- none- unless you count making as much trouble as they can..."

Mrs Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the wand-tip as she stirred.

“It’s not as though they haven’t got brains,” she continued irritably, taking the saucepan over to the stove and lighting it with a further poke of her wand, “they’re brilliant, if they try... but no! They waste them! And unless they pull themselves together soon, they’ll be in real trouble-- nevermind the letters I’ve gotten about their behaviour! Really, I’ve had more owls for just them than the rest put together! If they carry on the way they’re going, I only wonder-- I suspect they’ll be spending half their lives in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office!”

Mrs Weasley jabbed her wand at the cutlery drawer, which shot open. Lisa ducked, while Harry and Ron jumped out of the way as several knives soared out of it, and flew across the kitchen to begin chopping the potatoes, which had been tipped back into the sink by the dustpan only moments ago. 

“I’ve no clue where we went wrong with them,” said Mrs Weasley, putting down her wand and starting to pull out more saucepans, as if she’d forgotten the three of them were even there. “It’s been the same for years, one thing after another, and they won’t listen to-- OH, NOT AGAIN!”

She had picked up her wand from the table, and it emitted a loud squeak and turned into a giant rubber moose. 

“ANOTHER FAKE WAND!” She shouted, and she took a long breath before shouting again. “HOW MANY-- how many times have I - TOLD THEM - NOT - TO LEAVE THEM - LYING - AROUND?!”

She grabbed her real wand and turned around to find the sauce on the stove smoking. 

“Let’s hurry, while she hasn’t got anything flying,” whispered Ron, grabbing a handful of cutlery from the open drawer, and Harry did the same-- behind them, Lisa had returned to normal and grabbed a stack of plates. They all shared a cursory glance before hurrying out the back door to the yard.

They had only gone a few paces before Crookshanks ran past them, pelting out the garden and chasing what looked like a muddy potato on leg-- a gnome. Harry turned around just in time to see it dive headfirst into the wellington boots that lay by the door-- it giggled madly as Crookshanks reached a paw into the boot, trying to get it, and then began cackling as Crookshanks scrambled away once Quinn came following him. They were made aware of the commotion as they entered the garden, to find Bill and Charlie, using their wands to make two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into eachother in an attempt to knock the other out the air. Fred and George were cheering, Ginny was laughing, and Hermione and Lily were stood by the hedge. Hermione looked torn between amusement and anxiety, but Lily looked oddly reminiscent.

Bill’s table caught Charlie’s with a huge bang and knocked a leg off; Suddenly, as Ginny laughed louder, there was a clatter from overhead, and they all looked up to see Percy’s head sticking out of a window on the second floor. 

“WILL YOU KEEP IT DOWN ?!”

“Sooorry, Perse!” shouted Bill, though his large grin and his ears, which were twitching as he tried to stop himself from laughing, gave him away. “How are the cauldron bottoms coming on, eh?”

“Very badly,” snarled Percy, and he slammed the window shut. Bill roared with laughter, and Charlie’s chuckles were growing louder by the second, but after a moment, they lowered the tables safety on the grass, end to end. With a wave of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg and summoned tablecloths from nowhere. 

By seven o’clock-- much to Lisa’s dismay, which was quickly lost as the food was finally brought out-- the tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs Weasley’s excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, four Potters, and Lisa were settling themselves underneath a clear, deep-blue sky. To Harry, who had been eating mostly take-out all summer, as the kitchen in Grimmauld place was constantly infected with something , it was a delightful refresher. He listened rather than talked, helping himself to chicken and ham pie, boiled potatoes, and salad.

At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father all about his report on the cauldron bottoms--

“I’ve told Mr Crouch that I’ll have it ready by Tuesday,” Percy was saying pompously, “that’s a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he’ll be grateful; I’ve done it in good time, I mean, it’s extremely busy in the department at the moment, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup. We’re just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports--"

“I like Ludo,” said Mr Weasley mildly. “He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit’a ’va favour a while back-- his brother, Otto got into a spot of trouble. A lawnmower with unnatural powers-- smoothed the whole thing over for him. Ah- speaking of, Miss Potter, are you sure you wouldn't want to go?”

Lily, who looked as though she wasn’t paying attention in the slightest, shook her head. “No, no, I couldn’t. I... I’ll leave it to the children to enjoy. It’s simply not the same anymore... and Quinn's not very interested in Quidditch, so since the twins are responsible enough, I think I'll just stay home. I imagine Sirius may like to go, but he's still got a bit of a- er- criminal record, say."

Mr Weasley nodded tensely. He still seemed very uncertain of the idea that Sirius was completely innocent.

“Well, er, father, Bagman’s likeable enough,” said Percy dismissively, “but however it is he came to be Head of Department... and especially when I compare him to Mr Crouch! I can’t see Mr Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what happened to them... you do realise Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? What happened, she went on holiday in Albania and never returned?” 

“I was asking Ludo about that, the other week,” said Mr Weasley, frowning. “He says Bertha’s gotten lost plenty of times before, and she’s got the days to make up for it at the moment... and he has been searching, Percy. Though, I admit... if it were anyone in my department, I’d be a bit more hopeless..."

“Enough days to work it off, huh,” repeated Percy, “Bertha’s the one who's hopeless. I suppose all those days she's worked up is just a good excuse to get her out of the building for a bit... I hear she's been getting kicked out of departments for years, more trouble than she's worth... but, all the same, Bagman ought to be working harder to find her. Incompetent workers are still workers . Mr Crouch has taken a personal interest... she used to work in our department once, you know, and I think he was quite fond of her-- but everytime we ask, Bagman says Bertha’s probably just wandered a bit off-track... or misread the map and found herself in Australia rather than Albania... however--" Percy heaved an impressive breath and took a deep swig of elderflower wine, “-- we've got quite enough on our plates at the the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. You know, we've got another big event to organise right after the World Cup...”

Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked to the other end of the table where Harry, Ron, Lisa and Hermione were sitting. “You know, the one I'm talking about, father,” he continued, and his voice raised, “the top-secret one.” 

Ron rolled his eyes, and muttered to the three of them, “He's been trying to get us to ask what that thing is ever since he started working. Ha- knowing him , bet it's some exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons. Can't believe he still thinks we know what he's even talking about...”

In the middle of the table, Mrs Weasley was arguing with Bill about his ear piercings, which seemed to be a recent acquisition. 

“... with a horrible great fang on it. And don't get me started on those rings! They're meant for your hands-- not your ears! And even then, do you need so many? What do they say at the bank, Bill?”

“Mum,” said Bill patiently, although Harry suspected he'd said it many times before, “no one at the bank gives a damn how many holes I've got in my ear or what I wear as long as I bring home a load of treasure.” 

“And your hair's getting silly, dear,” continued Mrs Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly. “I just wish you'd let me give it a trim...”

“Well, I like it,” said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. “You're so old-fashioned, mum. No one cares about that kind of stuff anymore, really. And, anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's, but I don't see you asking to give him a haircut.”

Next to Mrs Weasley, the twins and Charlie were talking excitedly about the World Cup. 

“It’s gotta be Ireland,” said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of potatoes, “they flattened Peru in the semifinals.”

“But Bulgaria’s got Krum,” said Fred, pointing his fork imploringly. 

“Oh, don’t joke. Krum’s one decent player, Ireland’s got seven ,” said Charlie shortly. “Just wish England got through. Was embarrassin’, that was.”

Harry finally had what he supposed was a reason to speak-- “What happened?”  He supposed it was his own fault that he hadn’t been keeping up with Quidditch over the summer. 

“Went down to Transylvania, three-hundred and ninety to ten ,” said Charlie, suddenly very gloomy. “I’ve got a friend from down there-- hasn’t let me live it down. And then Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland got slaughtered by Luxembourg. Even worse that none of them made it in either.”

Harry, despite his own lack of interest, understood the embarrassment. He’d been the Seeker of the Quidditch team for his House at Hogwarts, Ravenclaw, ever since his first year and he currently owned one of the best racing brooms in the world, a Firebolt. Flying came more naturally than anything else to Harry in both the magical and Muggle world. He couldn’t imagine-- more than three-hundred points short? He’d have to write Draco-- or ask him in person, at the World Cup-- why hadn’t he mentioned it?

Mr Weasley conjured up candles to light the darknening garden before they had homemade strawberry ice cream-- he gave Harry chocolate(he was allergic to strawberry)-- and by the time they had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smell of grass and honeysuckle. Harry was feeling extremely well fed and at peace as he watched several gnomes sprint through the rosebushes, laughing madly and closely pursued by Crookshanks.

“Harry,” 

He turned away from the bushes; Lily had taken Hermione’s place-- she’d gone to sit next to Ginny. "I overheard your, er... grandmother, earlier, when I was coming up the stairs... and I imagine I heard wrong, but I want to be sure... was she asking you about-- you and- Draco, she said?”

Harry’s lips were suddenly dry, and his face was burning. Of course someone had heard-- and it just happened to be his mum.

“Er, maybe,” he muttered, after a minute or two. “She... might’ve, er, misunderstood something..."

Harry had gotten very lucky, for he didn’t have to try and explain himself, as Mrs Weasley suddenly stood up, checking her wristwatch. “Would you look at the time,” she said. “You could really be in bed, the whole lot of you! You’ll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup, and the last thing any of you need is to have any reason to fall asleep once you get there. Mrs Potter, it was a delight to have you and your son... but, still, are you sure you wouldn’t like to go? The last time, the match went on for five days. It may be--”

“I’m certain,” Lily nodded. “I know Harry and Hermione will be alright without me there. And I wouldn’t want to dampen the mood.” 

She stood up and started towards the back door, stopping only briefly to heave Quinn off his chair, where he'd fallen asleep. It was lucky Quinn was fairly light, because he didn't even stir as she did so. “You two enjoy yourselves. I’m sure it’ll be amazing.” 

She turned back around to kiss Harry on the head, and then met Hermione halfway and did the same. Harry got an odd feeling as she disappeared into the kitchen.