Back at the Burrow
Friday, July 12th, 1996
Shifting the washcloth so that it lay more properly onto Draco’s head, Hermione leaned back in her seat that had been set beside the couch the sixteen year old was laying across and frowned at him, before turning up to look at her boyfriend and the rest of his redheaded family gathered around her, brows creased, concerned.
“I thought you said he was getting better…” She said, speaking directly to her boyfriend, Ron Weasley, who was frowning just as deeply at the scene before him as she, arms crossed tightly around his lanky body. “I thought so. He didn’t mention any aches or anything, he just woke up from a nightmare or something, looked at me, then passed out and had a fever!” Ron threw his hands up, looking enraged at Draco, the situation, maybe the whole world in general. “I don’t understand it! How could being burned off a tapestry cause this much pain?”
“Because it wasn’t just a tapestry, Ron,” Arthur Weasley said carefully, stepping over to lay a hand on his youngest boy’s shoulder comfortingly. “Your grandmother was burned off her family tree, you know, for marrying Granddad. She always told me it felt like a very piece of your soul was being torn from you, and it didn’t go away overnight.” Ron frowned at his friend, imagining what all that must feel like, and going pale as his sheets in a second. Molly scoffed, bustling over to her son.
“Arthur, stop it, say anything more and you’ll scare him! Ron,” She placed her hands on her son’s arms, forcing him to look at her. “I’m sure your friend is going to be fine, he just needs rest, and you do too. Now, how about you and Hermione head back up to your rooms and I’ll stay with Draco.”
She ushered the young teens towards the stairs, turning at the foot of the steps to call, “Ginny, you too!” And the girl rolled her eyes but nodded, breaking off from where she was talking to Percy and running up the steps, no doubt heading to chat with Ron and Hermione all night. Molly knew this of course, but they were sixteen and fourteen, it was midnight, and she was tired.
Running a hand over her forehead she turned to her middle child and said, “Percy you should probably go up and help Tess, she’s been alone with the triplets and Fleur long enough.” There was clear venom to the french name as she said it, but Percy only narrowed her eyes at her and said forwardly, “Fleur isn’t a bad person, Mom, you just have to -”
“Your kids, Percy!” Molly snapped, pointing up the stairs. “I can hear them crying! Stop lecturing me about my problems and go solve yours!” Again, it was midnight, and Molly was not only tired but very stressed out. Percy was old and wise enough to recognize this in his mother when he saw it, so he nodded silently, taking the stairs just as his younger siblings had.
Ignoring Arthur’s worried gaze, Molly marched back over to the couch and pressed her wand to the washcloth on Draco’s forehead, muttering a healing charm. Arthur watched his wife silently for only a moment, before saying, “Mollywobbles?” Carefully as she removed her wand.
“What?” He didn’t wince at the unexpected sharpness to her voice, as one of children might, instead softening more so that the wrinkles in his face creased as he sank down into a chair opposite the sofa and smiled. “Molly, you need to take a break, dear.”
She spun around in a one hundred eighty degree turn, ready to make a quick comeback, but at the sight of her husband's smile also melted as he had, instead sighing and putting her head in her hands, mumbling into her palms, “I can’t Arthur…”
“Yes you -”
“No!” She dropped her hands to jab a finger at the boy on her couch, her home, with the palest hair that just didn’t belong among a sea of orange and red. “Look at him! How am I supposed to take a break with the Malfoy boy sleeping in my living room?” She was beginning to tear up, and though it broke Arthur’s heart to watch, he couldn’t tell her to stop, because she needed to get this out. “Part of me keeps saying, ‘Molly, he’s a bad omen. He’s a trouble-magnet that’s just going to draw Death Eater’s to your family.’ But who cares? He has no family! Not even Harry was kicked out from the Dursleys; they always took him in every summer begrudgingly - Dumbledore told me. But this boy, he can never go home.”
She sank to her knees, lowering her face into her hands and sobbing beside the peacefully oblivious sleeping teen, and now Arthur stood to kneel beside her, massaging circles into her back.
“We won’t let him get hurt, Molly, I promise. We won’t let him suffer.” Molly slowly raised her watery eyes to meet those of her husband.
“I’m not sure we can, Arthur. I don’t even know if Hogwarts is safe anymore, not without Dumbledore -”
Arthur clung to his wife’s arms tightly, as if he could hold down physically the belief that Hogwarts was untouchable, sacred ground, and as long as there were people in it who were good, honest, and kind, they'd always have a fighting chance. “No,” He said sternly, banishing any contradictions of the hope that had gotten him through sleepless nights glancing over his shoulder, bracing for a snake attack in broad daylight at work. “Hogwarts will always be the safest place, Molly. The kids are going… Draco Malfoy is going.”
The matriarchs of the Weasley Clan both glanced over at the boy sprawled across their couch, and softened or sighed.
When was the first time Molly had met the boy? She hated being around the Malfoy’s, never getting along with them as much as Arthur didn’t in school but wanting to avoid conflict just for that reason, as her family got enough slander without the need for a public fight. But there were Ministry parties she was forced to attend at times, and that boy always seemed to be there, clinging to his parents robes and looking very unsure of himself. As the years passed, that boy grew, but she still neglected to notice. She saw pale hair and a narrow chin and knew to look away.
She’d met the boy properly, she presumed, during the skirmish at Gilderoy Lockhart’s book signing which she preferred to forget, but that was only the first meeting she’d stopped to take notice of how Draco’s eyes were slightly darker than his father’s; bluer. She wouldn’t have noticed if not for his increase in height, however. But the first time she had actually shook hands with him was just during Fourth Year, as a slim boy about a foot shorter than her youngest boy stepped up with a smile, and that’s when she noticed his eyes got what little blue they had from Narcissa. She’d told that woman, who turned out to be an actual nice company to have and the exact opposite of what she appeared, that she had a wonderful son and she’d met it.
She continued to see how wonderful Draco was throughout Fifth Year, but she, like so many others, had no clue what was going on just below the surface. Even now, watching the boy sleep, she couldn’t help imagining what went on inside his head. Did he have nightmares that haunted him through the night, like Harry had according to Ron? Or was he constantly caught in moments of PTSD blackouts, as much as poor Hermione was? Or maybe it was something else entirely - something that he hid from everyone, even himself.
But regardless, Draco Malfoy was not at all what Molly had imagined him to be, and all too soon after she had realized this could only mean danger, so while she was always happy to welcome children into her home that had nowhere else to turn, this boy led her to quite the brick wall in that she was sure, she could sense it with her motherly tuition, that he would only bring pain to her family’s doorstep. The trouble he’d caused for Voldemort… surely the Dark Lord would not let the boy go so easily as burning him off a tapestry? Maybe it was an act to make Lucius and Narcissa certain that’s all he’d do, but there would have to be a bigger price to pay, and Molly was certain Voldemort wouldn’t hesitate to cut the two down to get to their son.
She, and Arthur, busying himself with watching his wife and imagining what she might be thinking (she’d always been so much smarter than him) were pulled out of their thoughts when a sudden knock came on the door. Springing to her feet in an instinctual instant, Molly called out, “Who’s there?” and got a swift answer as she hurried for the door.
“Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Molly. I have Harry with me.” Right, of course. Harry was coming. As if she needed another kid under her roof or more to her plate and still she felt pale hair at the edge of her vision, cutting into the peace and quiet of an orange Weasley home but it was fine. Harry’s stuff had arrived just over a half an hour ago, and Prongs had been happily trotting away in Fred and George’s room with Hedwig while the Draco issue was sorted out downstairs ever since. She knew Harry was coming, so why should she be anymore stressed?
She grabbed the door handle and swung it inward, not even bothering with the formalities of interrogating McGonagall and Harry for if they were really themselves and instead forcing a broad grin at the taller boy, so that it made all the worry wrinkles in her face crease but when would Harry ever mind? Instead he smiled warmly, falling into the familiar open arms with exhaustion from a very long day.
“Hey, Mrs. Weasley…”
“Harry, dear! Gracious, Minerva, you said you two wouldn’t be here until morning!”
“Well I suppose Harry here was a lot more persuasive than I thought he’d be,” The new Headmistress said, stepping into the house after Harry and smiling at him, even as he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders weakly. “Still don’t know how I helped -”
“Harry, is that you, my boy?” Arthur had moved into the room, stretching out an arm from under his traveling cloak (for he had just returned from work when the Draco fiasco happened, and thus had no time to remove it) and shaking Harry’s hand with it firmly. “Goodness, you’ve grown just as much as Ron has! He’s taller of course - got his Uncle’s genes.” Harry scarcely knew what Uncle Mr. Weasley was speaking of, but didn’t care, because he, like Molly, was quick to notice the flash of stark white that stood out like a beacon against the warm autumn colors of the Weasley household.
“Is that…?” Like a boy caught in a trance, drawn like a moth to a flame, Harry let go of Arthur’s hand and stumbled past him into the living area, kneeling beside the couch and pushing away the thick quilt blanket draped across Draco’s body to find his hand, lacing his fingers into the other boys, and squeezing just enough.
In a start, and a sharp, convulsing movement, Draco’s eyes had snapped open, but his hand had also snapped out of Harry’s. He didn’t dive for it, instead sitting back on his heels to watch as a pair of gray eyes darted around the room, panicked, before recognizing at last where they were and landing on Harry. The speed at which Draco’s entire body then relaxed was shocking, if not something Harry himself relaxed at as well. Because it meant that maybe, just maybe they really could be like they once were, and not the disaster that was last year. No awkward eye contact, or Quidditch fights, or squabbles over who had the better date, no evil plots, just friends.
There was a war going on, after all, it was now or never.
“Harry?” Harry smiled, leaning forward again to make sure Draco could see how real he was and nodding, lightly resting a hand on his forearm - the left one, he made sure, thus why he made sure his tight was the lightest it could be - and waiting patiently for Draco’s response. “But I thought - The Dursley’s -”
“- Let me off early,” Harry smoothly lied, though he supposed Uncle Vernon had every right to ship him off to that rock-island whenever he liked while he was still a minor, so McGonagall was right; they voluntarily kept taking him in. “How was the Muggle world?”
The adults were slowly creeping their heads into the living room, but the two teens didn’t notice, as Draco shifted to a sitting position on the couch so Harry could sit beside him. Molly and Arthur marveled at how quickly Harry had gotten the boy to relax like he was back in his own bed, or safe at Hogwarts, when he’d been tense as a brick whenever they tried to get even close to him since arriving. Meanwhile McGonagall merely smiled, all too used to seeing the pair this way at school.
“Strange… The Granger’s took me to a lot of places, but I understood none of it. Travel is so slow there, too. But everything else is fast, like everyones on the move and has no time to stop and chat. Very impolite, if you ask me,” Harry couldn’t help but release a small giggle, to which Draco gawked at him and it made him laugh more, because this was what he missed. This was the Draco he knew. The pompous brat who always meant well under layers of ice, and whose facade melted in moments like this, when he caught the joy in his friend’s eyes as he giggled and allowed himself to laugh along too.
“It was impolite!” He defended, as if there was any way of recovering from his pompous reasoning now, “My father always taught me to greet people with a diplomat’s smile and nod. Nobody was smiling or nodding in London!”
“Welcome back to reality, Draco,” Harry rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder once he had finally dampened his laughter. “We’ve missed you.” Draco smiled genuinely back, and for a moment, the pain in his heart and his forearm was forgotten. For a moment he was still on a tapestry - this tapestry. This messy family that all crammed under layered stories to the Burrow each summer and became one, for just two months. And yes, he could imagine staying a part of this family, and it felt beautiful.
“I’m sure you’re hungry, Harry?” The two boys turned around in surprise at Molly’s sudden voice, but Harry supposed five minutes was as long as he was ever going to last away from her pestering about his scrawny physique. “How about some soup? And bread?” Though that did sound very good, he had to admit. “Sure, Mrs. Weasley, thank you.”
The door opened and closed - McGonagall had left, and not a second later Arthur walked around the corner to where his wife had stood a moment ago, smiling down at the boys.
“It’s good to see that one with a smile on his face,” He said, wagging his finger at Draco, who rolled his eyes. “He drives Molly up the wall, you know - nightmares and burning scars - not unlike you, Harry, hm?” Mr. Weasley gave Harry a wink and the boy allowed himself a small smile, before turning to Draco sternly. “What is he talking about?” The blonde shuffled uncomfortably on the couch.
“Sorry I haven’t written, it all just happened so fast…” He pulled his knees to his chest, almost unconsciously, and Harry laid a hand on the top of those knees, driven by the same instinct. He never tore his eyes away from gazing at Draco, though, even as the other teen looked up in surprise. He instead watched as he swallowed, leaned back against the cushions of the couch, and whispered, the reality sinking in deeper with every word, “I’ve been burned off the Black family tree. Or the Malfoy tree… Either one…”
Harry sat frozen, staring in disbelief at the words for a moment, as images of the Manor on fire flashed through his brain. Of the manic desperation in Lucius Malfoy’s eyes throughout the fight at the Department, and the grief that had rendered Narcissa scrawny and pale in a once regal nightdress. He recalled how the once high ranking member of the Dark Order had sat at the end of the table, cowering under Voldemort’s gaze, and how he hadn’t hesitated before jumping through flames to get to his son.
He even remembered how vocal the pair had been on Draco’s safety, and the argument he and his friend had overheard them having with Dumbledore - he’d never before heard Lucius Malfoy yell like that, and never again since, either.
How could people like that betray their son, whom they so clearly loved more than their own lives? (Something few Slytherins could claim, Harry was sure) No, certainly the two had been coerced into it, or maybe they were even in danger. But looking at Draco’s face, broken and betrayed, the possibility of his parents being tortured was hardly what he needed to hear right now.
“It won’t last,” He instead settled for saying, as he unconsciously gripped onto the fabric of Draco’s pants over his knee, “Once this war is over you’ll be back with your family, I promise.”
“You mean if I have a family to -”
His dark thoughts were thankfully cut off by Mr. Weasley calling to his wife about the food and a second later said wife stepped in with two steaming bowls of soup, each with a chunk of bread dipped in at the side of the ceramic containers.
“Here you are,” She said as she shoved the bowls into the two boys hands, and already Harry could feel his mouth water at the delicious looking substance. Onion soup, by the looks of it, bringing back memories of the countless times Harry had been served it on different summer days. Draco was eyeing it suspiciously still, however, so once Mrs. Weasley turned and ran off, Harry leaned in and whispered, “Try it - it’s delicious, I promise.”
Draco still seemed skeptical, but once he put his spoon in his mouth the facade melted in a second and Harry smiled as he watched him hungrily scarf the delicious stuff down, turning to Mr. Weasley, who was staring into the fire thoughtfully, as if it might burst with a Wizard’s head calling him at any moment, and asking, “How has the Ministry been? What with the declaration of war and all. The Prophet hasn’t made it look good.”
Mr. Weasley turned to face Harry and shook his head grimly. “No, and they aren’t wrong. Fudge is doing his best, but every day we - my colleagues and I - we’re all worried a Death Eater in disguise is going to pop up and declare the Ministry under You-Know-Who’s control. Your friend,” He nodded to Draco, distracted and oblivious to what they were saying by the mouth watering soup. “Says You-Know-Who told him that once Dumbledore was out of the way he’d be free to make a move. Of course, he didn’t know Fudge wasn’t ignoring his return and instead was fully prepared, but it’s still scary. You’ve seen the smoke, no doubt?”
Harry nodded. The weather channels he still spied on in the bushes outside of the windows of Privet Drive whenever he could documented them every day now, and how they moved not like clouds should, and stank of ash in parts where they were more abundant. He’d long suspected it up until now, but… “Is it dragons, sir? Does Voldemort have dragons on his side?”
Mr. Weasley gave a grim nod, lips forming a tight straight line. “Yes, he does. Charlie and his work friends fortunately were able to keep the dragons in Romania protected, and Fudge’s connections claim there are still many safe houses, but at least ten dragons are missing in Europe, and maybe more beyond. No doubt You-Know-Who’s gotten creative seeing as how we have the dementors and the giants on our side.”
Harry leaned back, idly taking bites of his soup as he tried to imagine the different magical creatures Voldemort could align with and use to his advantage. The Ministry pamphlet spoke of something called ‘Inferi,’ and Greyback no doubt had a bunch of Werewolves on his side, while they had giants. Surely Hermione would have a lot to say about how minorities were being taken advantage of in this War, but it was true they were the easy ally - each side could offer them equality and rights when the War ended.
“I’ve been promoted, however,” Mr. Weasley said in a much lighter tone after a few minutes, straightening in his seat and puffing out his chest just slightly. It was here he most closely resembled his middle son, and Harry couldn’t quite but smile a little at the resemblance between Arthur and Percy, glasses and all. “Like I said, Fudge has been stepping up and being quite the good leader since his declaration, and invented a new Department; the Department of International Magical Defense. We’re called the I.M.D, and I run a whole Office and everything! It’s called the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers with the excitement for this new job. “The Department deals with all methods of Defense against You-Know-Who - we’re the ones who issued those protection pamphlets - but my Office deals with confiscating defense objects that are sold on say… Knockturn Alley. Jokes, really, meant to chew out wizard’s for a pretty penny, but really only rope in trouble for too many people. Naturally, I and some of my colleagues in Muggle Artifacts were needed for our specialties in this sort of thing, but I was surprised how knowledgeable and helpful Fudge was when we were just getting started. He used to work in the Department of Magical Catastrophes, though, so I suppose it makes sense.”
Harry nodded along. It did make a lot of sense, especially considering how Harry had left Fudge, standing with the weight of the entire United Kingdom Wizarding World on his shoulders and promising his people he wouldn’t let them down. He’d thought about it once before during the Minister’s declaration of war weeks ago, but now he thought of Dumbledore’s portent in the Hospital Wing once more. Clearly, Fudge was leaning ever closer to the future Dumbledore predicted where he was regarded as a hero, where once Harry could have only imagined him as the most cowardly Minister in history.
How far things had come…
“That sounds really great, Mr. Weasley,” He told him, then leaned back his head and released a long yawn. Mr. Wealsey raised one eyebrow, warning, “Now don’t let Molly hear you,” before the woman poked her head around the corner once more.
“Too late,” She pointed a finger between the two boys, seeing their bowls wiped clean. “Bed, both of you, you can share Fred and George’s room, you’ll have it to yourself.”
Harry raised an eyebrow as he and Draco got to their feet and passed over their bowls, asking, “Why, where are they?” He had hoped he’d get to see the twins again and properly thank them for how they’d saved him and his friends’ lives at Malfoy Manor.
“Oh, they're in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the little flat over their joke shop as they’re so busy,” said Mrs. Weasley. “I must say, I didn’t approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business! Come on, Harry, your trunk is already up there.” As the boys followed Mrs. Weasley, Harry turned and called out, “Night, Mr. Weasley,” and Draco waved a hand.
“G’night, boys!”
As they walked towards the stairs they passed the Weasley clock with its nine spoons sitting on the laundry basket in the kitchen, and Harry momentarily stopped to frown at how each hand had turned to ‘mortal peril’. Then he noticed three short teaspoons beneath Percy’s labeled “Molly II”, “Lucy”, and, “Hans” and couldn’t help but smile a little at the thought of the triplet babies. He’d grown quite fond of them when he’d stayed at Grimmauld Place after the Manor fiasco.
Mrs. Weasley must’ve followed his gaze, as she told him, “Percy and Tess are looking for a house somewhere safe too, what with how crammed it’s getting, but I think they’re scared to be on their own with three kids. Don’t tell them I said that, though,” She turned and raised a finger to her lips, winking, and Harry chuckled.
They stopped when they reached the second floor, and when they pushed the door open Harry was immediately hit with a solid weight on his chest that caused him to stumble back as he giggled while being licked and at by a very excited Prongs, while Hedwig hooted away like mad in her cage.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s good to see you too. Hey, it’s only been an hour!” He placed his crup back on the floor where the happy dog continued to scamper around the room and sniff every corner and occasionally run circles around Harry’s legs.
Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at a lamp in the corner of the room and in a second it lit up as if she'd turned a light switch, so that Harry could see the full room in a golden glow, and not just imagine why it smelled so strongly of gunpowder.
There were cardboard boxes stacked in various places about the room, sealed but unmarked, indicating these were probably products the twins had deemed unusable or beyond the effort in perfecting. Among these boxes, almost disappearing as they blended in, were Draco and Harry’s trunks, the latter with a cage sat on top where Hedwig was still hooting like mad.
Smiling, Harry moved over to the cage to unlock and open it, and instantly the bird flew from her perch and onto Harry’s arm so that she could bend down and nibble at his ear, but then didn’t waste another second before rising and soaring out the open window to go hunting, as she’d no doubt been desiring to do for weeks now.
Draco closed the door after Mrs. Weasley left with a quick good night, and swiftly got into his bed - which Harry assumed was Fred’s bed, judging by the ‘F’ painted on the headboard - petting the patiently waiting pale white kneazle sitting on his pillow. Harry turned away from him to change into his pajamas and climbed into George’s bed, laying his head on the pillow and turning to face Draco, smiling at him.
“G’night, Harry,” Draco whispered, eyelids already dangerously falling, and Harry felt another yawn begin to rise up in his throat. “G’night…” He mumbled, and after pulling out a Puking Pastille from inside the pillowcase (typical) he rolled over and instantly was dozing off to sleep.
-*-*-*-
Saturday, July 13th
It could have been seconds, it could have been hours, but when Harry opened his eyes again it was to blinding rays of sunlight coming through the window, the sound of a door banging open like a cannon firing, and his own crup barking like mad.
He sat upright from the shock of the door, shielding his eyes with one hand and using the other to try to find his glasses on the bedside table, all the while he could hear yelling around him.
“Bilius! You scared the living day -”
“When were you going to tell us Harry was coming?”
“What, you think I knew?”
“Oh calm down both of you, he just woke up!”
“Wuzzgoinon?” Harry croaked, his fingers finally finding purchase in the glasses and as he rose them to his face, he couldn’t help but smile faintly at his best friends. Ron was standing right over him, grinning crookedly with wide eyes, while Hermione stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, glaring at him, but when she saw Harry was conscious turned to give him a warm smile. Only two weeks, and he’d missed these two dearly.
“We didn’t know you were here already!” Ron said loudly, and smacked him on top of the head with no hesitation, to which Hermione gasped and stomped over, batting him on the arm. “Ron, don’t hit him!” She said reproachfully, then collapsed onto the foot of Harry’s bed so that she was sitting on his knees. “How are you, Harry?”
“Fine…” He mumbled, rubbing his head. “A little concussed but fine.” He sent a sharp glare to Ron's direction but the tall ginger threw his hands up in response. “Well I’m sorry but it wouldn’t have hurt for you to at least send a letter or something.”
“I didn’t think it was real,” He explained, frowning as he remembered the moment he’d received his letter from McGonagall. “I mean… Only being with the Dursley’s for two weeks? Too good to be true, right? But anyway…” He relaxed against his pillows, beaming at his friends, “How’ve you two been?” He raised an eyebrow in a teasing manner, “How’s the snogging…?”
“Harry!” Hermione gasped while Ron went pink in the face and red in the ears in seconds. “It’s - we’ve - That’s none of your business!” She decided on snapping and Ron quickly nodded, stumbling backwards to sit on one of the cardboard boxes. “Yeah… What she said!”
Harry couldn’t help but laugh. He’d gradually warmed up to the fact that his best friends were now dating, and in fact had realized during his short stay at Privet Drive that he wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. It was so obvious Ron had a crush on Hermione, at least since he’d realized how pretty the girl was at the Yule Ball, and while he didn’t understand women for the life of him (his failed relationship with Cho Chang could attest to that) Hermione certainly seemed to reciprocate those feelings with how she’d acted throughout the last year. Them being together would at least save Harry’s sanity from their bickering for a while, hopefully.
Draco leaned over from his bed, winking at Harry as he whispered, “When I got here with Granger, she ran straight into Weasley’s room and locked the door. Now what do you think they were -”
“That’s enough out of you,” Hermione snapped, picking up the discarded Pumpkin Pastille from the floor and hurling it at him. It bounced off his forehead and he winced, rubbing where it hit while Hermione sent Harry a tight smile, “Mrs. Weasley is bringing up your breakfast, Harry, so don’t worry.” She glared over at Draco. “Of course, she’s also bringing food for you but I might just steal it…” Draco was quick to glare back.
“So, what’s been going on?” Ron leaned in to ask, clear interest in his eyes, though Harry couldn’t imagine why, because… “Nothing much, I’ve just been stuck at my Aunt and Uncle’s, haven’t I?”
“Come off it!” said Ron. “Mum said you came home with McGonagall! What were you doing with our teacher?”
“She’s the new Headmistress, now,” Draco corrected, gaze instantly falling as his own words sank in, so Harry was quick to answer Ron so his thoughts wouldn’t have to linger on the loss of Dumbledore.
“It really wasn’t anything exciting, she just took me to persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name’s Horace Slughorn. Oh, and she gave the Dursley’s a run for their money.” He chuckled at the memory of their pale and shocked faces as McGonagall disrespected their entire way of life.
“Oh,” Ron lowered his head, looking disappointed. “We thought…?” Hermione frowned at Ron, a clear warning look, and in a second the boy’s head jerked upwards again, and he smiled and nodded, “ - we thought it’d be something like that.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, amused and not convinced in the slightest. “You did?”
“Yeah… Yeah!” Ron was clearly making something up on the spot, but he didn’t question it. “Yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don’t we? Plus, McGonagall’s leaving the Transfiguration position open. So, er, what’s he like? What’s he gonna teach?”
Harry thought for a moment. “He looks a bit like a walrus, and he likes picking favorites,” He shrugged his shoulders. “Pretty weird guy but I didn’t mind. He’s gonna teach Defense Against the - Something wrong, Hermione?”
In a way that made Harry not feel particularly good, Hermione had been watching him through the whole conversation, studying him like a specimen in a lab, but when she saw he had finally taken notice she quickly turned her inspecting to smiling. “No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he’ll be a good teacher?”
“Dunno,” said Harry. “He can’t be worse than Umbridge, can he?”
“I know someone who’s worse than Umbridge,” In a second Ron had rolled his eyes, Hermione had snapped her head around to the doorway, and Draco had lowered his into his hands. Harry chose to follow Hermione’s gaze to see the source of the voice, a very short and very freckled girl with flaming red hair that matched her older brother’s, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. She caught Harry’s eye and beamed. “Hi, Harry.”
“What’s up with you?” Ron asked with a voice that clearly said he already knew the answer as the smile left Ginny’s face and was replaced with an irritable scowl. “It’s her,” she growled, slouching into the room and sitting criss crossed on Draco’s bed. “She’s driving me mad.”
“What’s she done now?” asked Hermione, also scowling, and Harry’s head whipped between them all, feeling he was very much not in on something.
“It’s the way she talks to me! You’d think I was about three!” Ginny whined, raising a hand to estimate how small a three year old would be. “I know,” Hermione leaned closer, whispering as if talking about some big piece of gossip, “She’s so full of herself.”
Still, Harry felt very out of touch. Were they talking about Mrs. Weasley? He’s never heard them say such vile things about such a sweet woman before, so he didn’t blame Ron in the slightest for saying, “Can’t you two lay off her for five seconds?” or Draco’s addition, as he rose his head from his hands, of, “Please.”
“Oh, that’s right, you two can defend her all you like,” Ginny snapped, glaring between the two boys, “We all know you can’t get enough of her.” Draco’s eyes went wide as saucers as he snapped back, “I’m gay!” and Ginny waved a dismissive hand, and now Harry was certain they were not talking about Ron’s mother.
“Who are you…?” Before anyone could answer, however, the person in question was revealed as a beautiful tall woman of about twenty with long blond hair that appeared to emit a faint, silvery glow. With her presence the room suddenly felt airless, and maybe she even brought that delicious aroma with her, but then Harry noticed the breakfast tray in her hands, and that question was answered as quickly as it came.
“‘Arry,” Fleur Delacour said in the throaty voice of that thick French accent of her’s, “It has been too long!”
Harry smiled back at her beaming as she stepped over to him, thinking it had indeed been a very long time since the end of Fourth Year, but it felt even longer with all that had happened since. Behind her, Harry saw Mrs. Weasley standing, looking as irritated as her daughter.
“There was no need to bring up the tray, I was just about to do it myself!”
Fleur shook her head as she set the tray down on Harry’s knees. “It was no trouble,” She explained, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I have been longing to see him. You remember my sister, Gabrielle? She never stops talking about Harry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again.”
Harry raised his eyebrows high, still feeling very out of the loop. “Oh… is she here too?” He asked.
“No, no, silly boy,” She released a small, light laugh, “I mean next summer, when we - but do you not know?” She turned to look at Mrs. Weasley with big blue eyes and the woman gave Harry a tight lipped smile, not sparing Fleur a glance as she said, “We hadn’t got around to telling him yet.”
When Fleur turned back it was with a big beaming smile full of joy. “Bill and I are going to be married!” She said, and Harry’s lips formed an ‘oh’ that he barely croaked out as he glanced around the room and saw all the women were pointedly avoiding eye contact with their lips contorted like they were bursting to say something, while Ron was leaned back on the cardboard box, rubbing his temple with clear annoyance, and a book had somehow materialized in Draco’s hands for him to bury his face in. “Er - congratulations!”
Fleur took no notice of any of them - or if she did she was very professional about ignoring it - and instead continued to smile. “Thank you, Harry. Bill is very busy at the moment, working very hard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my English, so he brought me here for a few days to get to know his family properly. I was so pleased to hear you would be coming! There isn’t much to do here, unless you like cooking and chickens, but I did have Tess for company. By the way, Bill and I are planning a… what would you call it? ‘Double wedding’? Yes, that, with Tess and Percy. Well, enjoy your breakfast Harry, but don’t be afraid to come down and see Tess. Then it’ll be a proper Champions reunion!” With a second kiss, this time on the forehead, Fleur turned and strode out the room, nearly whipping Molly in the face with ehr long flowing hair as she passed.
As soon as she was gone, Mrs. Weasley scoffed, Hermione rolled her eyes and head, and Ginny smirked in Harry’s direction to say, “Mum hates her,” quietly.
“I do not hate her!” snapped Mrs. Weasley. “I just think they’ve hurried into this engagement, that’s all!”
Draco finally looked up from the book to raise a pale eyebrow and point out, “You weren’t at all upset by Percy and Tess’s engagement, and they were younger.” Mrs. Weasley turned pink in the cheeks. “Well maybe I was just better at hiding it! I know why it happened, of course. With all this uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back, people think they might be dead tomorrow, so they’re rushing all sorts of decisions they’d normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful, people eloping left, right, and center!”
Now Ginny turned her smirk in her direction. “Including you and Dad,” she said slyly so that Mrs. Weasley turned an even darker red. “Yes, well, your father and I were made for each other, what was the point in waiting?” said Mrs. Weasley. “Same goes for Percy and Tess, right Harry? You said so yourself; they clicked the moment they met!” Harry couldn’t recall a specific time he’d said this, but it was very possible that it slipped out at some point, considering the fact that the pair were quite a match from the second they’d locked eyes at the Yule Ball. “Whereas Bill and Fleur… well… What have they really got in common? He’s a hardworking, down-to-earth sort of person, whereas she’s -”
“A cow,” Ginny said to which Draco picked up his book and smacked her on the arm. She rubbed the spot where he’d hit her and stuck out her tongue before turning her chin up and shrugging. “It’s true, you’re just blinded by her beauty. Bet that’s how she won Bill over too - He’s a Curse-Breaker, isn’t he? He likes a bit of adventure, a bit of glamor. Of course he’d go for Phlegm.”
“Stop calling her that, Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley said sharply while Hermione laughed and Harry began to chuckle, before the book was then thrown their way and passed between their heads to hit the back wall. Draco glared at them and they stopped laughing in seconds.
“Well, I’d better get on. Eat your eggs while they’re warm, Harry.” She turned and left the room, slightly slouched, slightly careworn, leaving the room silent for a moment before Draco yelled out, “You girls are on my last nerve!”
Hermione and Ginny both whipped their heads around to him, looking surprised. “What is it?” They said in unison.
“The way you treat Fleur! You’d think she was a bully or always making fun of you two, but she’s just trying to make herself useful. And maybe, if you were tired of her popping out of corners looking for something to help with, you should actually notice and care about her. She’s not an idiot, she was chosen from the Goblet for a reason and she can tell you all can’t stand her!”
“Thank you, Draco,” The door had been left open a crack, so that Draco’s yelling could easily be heard by anyone passing, and so it happened Tess Whitlock had been coming down the stairs, and was now standing in the doorway, a bundle swaddled in her arms, curly hair cut short to her shoulders and frizzy with stress. Judging by the red hair peeking out of the blankets, she was holding one of her daughters; either baby Molly or Lucy. “I’ve been trying to say that for days.”
“Hey Tess,” Harry greeted with a smile and nod in the woman’s direction, and she beamed back. “Hello Harry, had a nice rest?” She started to walk over, sitting herself closer to him on the bed and as she did so the baby squirmed in her arms, and Harry smiled down at it, stretching out a finger to stroke a soft, plump cheek. “Good. You?”
Tess sighed, rolling her head back to look at the ceiling. “What’s sleep?” She said and the others chuckled. “But seriously, I’ve been alright. Slowly I’m getting used to this parenting business, but I doubt I’d be doing so well if not for Molly.” She leaned down to the sleeping baby. “And not you,” She whispered, confirming its identity.
“Which is why I’m so disappointed in both of you,” She frowned at Hermione and Ginny, who lowered their heads in shame. “I know what it’s like to come into an unfamiliar house with everyone immediately judging you, making sure you’re the right fit for their relatives. But thankfully I was accepted, because what? I helped Percy to become a better person? But now, this wonderful woman is marrying the darling child, already perfect for this family, so all you’ve done is criticize her because she can’t possibly measure up to the favorite child.” Tess threw up one of her hands, careful to keep a tight hold on Molly II with the other. “And you have the audacity to call her the cow?”
Ginny pulled up her knees to her chest, resting her chin on top of them and mumbling, “But she is, always in the way, always talking with that frog -”
“So we’re adding prejudice to the list, then?” Tess demanded, glaring, “Do you have something against my accent as well? Or did you never notice it, because French is just more ‘obvious?’” Harry felt his face burn with his own slight embarrassment as he realized that no, he hadn’t taken nearly as much notice of the dutch tones in her voice as he had of Fleur’s or even Viktor’s when he was still…
“But you said it yourself!” Hermione reasoned, “Her’s is just more obvious -”
“How are you supposed to abdicate for the rights of magical creatures, when you don’t even accept fellow humans?” Tess snapped, then stood up from Harry’s bed, arm tight around her child, and sent both girl’s a final glare. “I hope you think about this. Enjoy your breakfast, Harry,” She said sourly, then stalked off out the door, slamming it shut in her wake.
For a second time, the room was silent, then Hermione sank to sit down on a cardboard box beside Ron and whispered lowly, “I never even realized I was being prejudiced…” Draco frowned at her, but sympathetically this time. “Exactly.” He said, and she lowered her head, and Harry thought for a moment she was going to cry.
“Maybe we have been a little rude to Phle -” Ginny hesitated. “To Fleur.” She corrected and sighed, laying on her back on Draco’s bed. “But she can just be such a pain, sometimes!”
“Sometimes Luna gets on my nerves,” Ron shrugged his shoulders. “I would never call her ‘Loony’, though.” Ginny bit her lip, those words clearly hitting her close to the heart, then jerked upright, declaring, “Let’s change the topic! I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Draco mumbled, “‘Cause you don’t like feeling like a bad guy…” But Harry sent him a quick look and he shut his mouth. Maybe it really was better to just move on from Fleur for the time being.
The door opened again and Percy peered around it, holding two bundles in his arms semi-easily as one was a good deal smaller than the other - Baby Hans, born with genetic difficulties. “Hello there, Harry,” He greeted, nodding to the boy, then turning to look at his sister. “Mum wants you to help with lunch.”
“But I’m talking to this lot!” She snapped, outraged, and Percy scowled at her. “Ginny…” He muttered, and she rolled her eyes and hopped off the bed. “Fine, fine! But you and I both know she only wants me there so she doesn’t have to be alone with Phle - Fleur - Her!” She threw her hands up in exasperation and stomped out the room, stopping beside her brother to flip her red hair in a pretty smart imitation of Fleur, then prancing out of sight.
Percy frowned after her, shaking his head as he bounced the babies in his arms and checked to see if they were still sleeping soundly, then whispering to the others, “You lot should come along too,” He glanced down the hall, then looked to Harry and said, “Maybe Mum will be too eager to make you happy to start any fights.” He winked then turned on his heel and left.
Ron chuckled after him. “He’s been acting like that a lot, lately,” He explained at Harry’s confused expression as to why Percy would be participating in all this Fleur drama. “Bet Tess is affecting him. Or it’s just parenting.” Ron stretched out his long arms and released a yawn, “He’s making us all feel like parents sometimes with all the baby-stuff I’ve had to do.”
“Well think about it, you’re the second youngest, Ron,” Hermione pointed out. “You never had to deal with ‘baby-stuff’, but your siblings did.”
“And Ginevera’s stuck doing housework because none of you can just accept Fleur,” Draco kicked his legs out from under his covers, looking ready to stand and leave. “Though I suppose none of us can speak for Bilius, Granger, seeing as how we’re all only child’s.” He gestured between himself, Hermione, and Harry, and Ron frowned down at the ground.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got enough siblings for all of you.” He stood up from the box. “Should we head down then?”
“We should,” Harry agreed, finding himself agreeing to Percy’s proposition because he really didn’t want to hear anymore fighting over Fleur after what Tess had said. Then a thought occurred to him; “Hey, McGonagall mentioned we’d get our OWL results in the mail today!”
“She did?!” In a second Hermione had leapt off the cardboard box, eyes wide. “Today? But why didn’t you - Oh my God - Oh my Merlin - You should have said -” She looked around the room, eyes darting around as her thoughts no doubt ran a thousands miles a minute on what to do, before she spun on her heel and ran for the door, pausing to turn back and call, “I’m going to see whether any owls have come.” before disappearing.
The boys glanced around at each other, then stood up and followed after her, dragging their feet just slightly. The weight of O.W.L. result had just sank in fully onto Harry, and as he thought about it, he realized this would determine his future dreams of becoming an Auror - though that was starting to feel like the choice he had to make, and every day Harry was wondering more and more what had made him want to be an Auror in the first place. Still, Ron certainly wanted to be one, so his nerves were on overdrive, and Draco was thinking over how getting the top grades and graduating in the top of the class would be his last saving grace in the Wizarding World as a child of a Death Eater.
Hermione was standing in the kitchen, wringing her hands, as Mrs. Weasley and Ginny both moved about. “Mrs. Weasley, you're quite, quite sure no owls have arrived this morning?” She asked and Mrs. Weasley sighed deeply, but patiently responded, “Yes, dear, I’d have noticed. But it's barely nine, there's still plenty of time…”
“I know I messed up Ancient Runes,” Hermione muttered, turning to her friends and looking very panicked. “I definitely made at least one serious mistranslation. And the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back?”
Ron smiled, stepping forward to squeeze one of her hands and rub at her arm with the other as he said, “Hermione… shut up. You probably got eleven ‘Outstanding Owls’ and -”
“Don’t, don’t, don’t!” She snapped away from him, something Harry had never seen her do all last year when they’d probably been dating and he didn’t know, and instead continued to pace, now moving around the long dining table, where Percy and Tess were sat, still bouncing their children in their arms. Percy watched her sympathetically for a moment, before turning to the boys.
“I bet I was just like this when mine came. But then I ended up getting twelve Outstandings, and everything was alright -” “Don’t!” Hermione snapped again, now pressing her hands to her ears, and humming quite the annoying tune, one that made the little girl in Percy’s arms - Lucy - open her eyes and stretch her mouth wide in an angry cry.
“Hermione!” Tess pleaded, “Please calm down, you’re scaring the babies!”
“At Beauxbatons,” Fleur said as she entered the room, apparently oblivious to her friend's stress as she stood and bent over Percy’s shoulder while he rocked the baby panickedly. “We had a different way of doing things, remember, Tess? I think it was better. We sat our examination after six years of study, not five, and then -”
Tess had opened her mouth to shush Fleur but it was not needed as her next words were drowned by the sound of Hermione’s ear splitting scream. They turned and saw she was pointed at the kitchen window, where four black specks were starkly standing out against the blue sky, growing bigger with each passing second as they got closer. Harry saw wings, and gulped.
“They’re definitely owls,” Ron spoke for his thoughts and followed after his girlfriend to run to the window and yank it open. Hermione raised her hands to her mouth, beginning to bite her nails anxiously. “There’s four of them,” Harry pointed out, joining them and feeling Draco at his heels as he said, “Yep, one for each of us.” Hermione let out a terrified whimper.
The tawny owls were so close now the Quartet could see they each were carrying a large square envelope. One right after the other the owls ducked and soared straight into the open window, and landed along the table neatly. Giving each other just one quick glance, the four ran forward and grabbed the letters addressed to them respectfully.
While everyone's hands were shaking at different rates, they still opened their letters as soon as they detached them from the owls leg (once they were free of the letter, the owl would soar out the window again) and Harry was first, tearing his open and letting his eyes dart around the results at a wild pace.
Ordinary Wizarding Level Results
Pass Grades:
Outstanding (O)
Exceeds Expectations (E)
Acceptable (A)
Fail Grades:
Poor (P)
Dreadful (D)
Troll (T)
HARRY JAMES POTTER has achieved:
Astronomy - A
Care of Magical Creatures - E
Charms - E
Defense Against the Dark Arts - O
Divination - P
Herbology - E
History of Magic - D
Potions - E
Transfiguration - O
Harry read it over and over and over and over… Slowly, the results got easier to deal with. Slowly, they even became… good. Not bad at all, and surely enough to proceed to any career he could ask for. Two Outstanding’s, and the only fail grades were in Divination and History of Magic, which he had been expecting, seeing as how he was never good at the former (not that he ever cared to be) and he had passed out halfway through the latter.
“Only failed Divination and History of Magic,” Ron exclaimed, waving his hand into the air and beaming, “And who cares about them?” He happily held his out to Harry, “Here, swap.” The boys exchanged tests while Hermione continued to gnaw at her nails, now sinking into a seat at the table.
RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY has achieved:
Astronomy - A
Care of Magical Creatures - E
Charms - E
Defense Against the Dark Arts - E
Divination - D
Herbology - A
History of Magic - P
Potions - E
Transfiguration - E
“Not bad, Ron, not bad at all,” Harry turned and handed the results off to Mrs. Weasley, who immediately beamed and walked over to ruffle Ron’s hair. “Well done! Seven OWLs, that’s more than Fred and George got together!” Harry looked down at Draco’s results in his hand;
DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY has achieved:
Ancient Runes - E
Arithmancy - O
Astronomy - O
Care of Magical Creatures - O
Charms - O
Defense Against the Dark Arts - O
Herbology - E
History of Magic - E
Potions - O
Transfiguration - E
“Nothing below an ‘Exceeds Expectations!’” Harry grinned at Draco and smacked him on the back, “Not bad at all, Mals.” Draco nodded with a tight slip smile, but slowly, he was starting to see that it was a really good set of grades indeed.
“Hermione?” They all turned to Hermione following Ginny’s small call, who was sitting silently across from Percy and Tess, head lowered. “How did you do?”
“I - not bad,” Came her voice, small, and Ron didn’t believe it for a second, instead rolling his eyes and coming to sit beside her. “Yeah, yeah, come off it, ‘Mione,” He whipped her results out of her hand and smirked. “Yep! Ten ‘Outstandings’ and one ‘Exceeds Expectations’ at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” He turned and leaned his face up close to her cheek, playfully, clearly trying to sneak around for a kiss as she squirmed away from him. “You’re actually disappointed, aren’t you?”
She shook her head, blushing furiously as Harry and Draco both laughed heartily, the latter, tipping back her chair and turning it so Ron could smack one on the lips. She recoiled and turned her head to glare at him as if she had just been faced with the biggest betrayal. “Draco!” She gasped as the boys all laughed and she shook her head, beginning to giggle herself despite it all.
“You three are so… thick.”
-*-*-*-
Thursday, July 18th
For the next couple days there was little conflict, and mostly just the simple bliss that came with staying at the Burrow, and on Monday, the fifteenth, Harry even got blessed with a fireside chat with Sirius. He wasn’t able to see his Godfather in person yet, being so busy with Order work, but was promised a birthday present from him in the flesh, which was good enough to him. Better than he could have hoped for years ago, actually.
Although the mountain of things Fudge had become privy to had grown and grown throughout the past year, Sirius Black’s innocence was not a weight anyone wanted to press on him yet, considering how stressed Mr. Weasley and Percy described him as being everyday in person, and how he appeared. One day, Sirius and Remus had repeatedly promised Harry in letters and fireside chats, they’d fight for the ex-convict’s innocence and stir up evidence to put Peter away (Tess was an avid study of Magical Law, so he had no doubts they’d bring the rat to justice) but that day would not be anytime soon, or maybe even at any point while this war was raging.
Speaking of the Minister, he brought to the Quartet their first bit of excitement in a week one the following Thursday of them receiving their results, when in the middle of a two-on-two Quidditch match in the Weasley’s orchard (Harry and Draco against Ron and Ginny) Hermione raised a hand from where she was surveying their match from the ground, tossing a mostly deflated Quaffle that resembled a frisbee more than anything for Prongs to catch, to shield her eyes against the sun and called out to her friends in the sky that, “Mr. Weasley and Percy are home!”
“This early?” Came Mrs. Weasley’s voice from behind them as she stepped out of the house carrying a basket of laundry, frowning out into the grassy fields surrounding the towering Burrow. “Arthur said he’d have to work late again tonight, busy with - Wait a second…”
The kids in the sky had now turned to focus on the two specks moving closer, blurry against the blinding summer sun, but as they got closer yet, Harry squinted with his seeker eyes and saw what Mrs. Weasley must’ve; the shorter of the two men was not bareheaded, as Mr. Weasley would certainly be, but had a rounded, strange object perched on his hat that gave him a funny silhouette, and in a matter of seconds it became clear it was a bowler hat.
“What in Merlin’s name is the Minister doing at our house?” Ron asked aloud, for anyone to come up with the answer, though no one could give him one.
Slowly, the four Quidditch players sank to the ground on their brooms, set them aside, and jogged forwards, all raising hands to shield against the still blinding sunlight but seeing clearly beneath their hands Cornelius Fudge was indeed coming towards them, waving a friendly hand.
“Hello, Harry!” He called out, stretching out his arm and Harry stepped forward to meet him halfway across the knee high grass, shaking his hand firmly. “And hello to you all,” He nodded to the kids around him who all nodded back. Ron folded his arms crossly, however, scowling. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Oh! No, nothing’s wrong, nothing at all, just business, that’s all… Ah, Molly!” Harry didn’t miss the way Fudge had sounded incredibly anxious as he said that - in fact, it was the same voice he’d used in the Leaky Cauldron when he’d tried to convince him that Sirius Black wasn’t a danger to him - or how his eyes had briefly flicked to Draco guiltily, but nevertheless followed him silently back into the Burrow where Molly stood waiting, forcing a tight lipped cordial smile.
“To what do we owe the pleasure, Minister?” She asked as they stepped back inside and he shrugged off his traveling coat, flinching in surprise as Fleur appeared behind him to take it and gave him a dazzling smile. He swayed on his feet a bit, but recovered quickly from her beauty as he shook his head and blinked rather harshly. “Nothing bad, not bad at all, just business like I said. I’ve only got about,” He checked the watch on his wrist, widened his eyes and turned a shade or two paler, and pointed to the empty living room. “Ten minutes, may I…?”
Molly gestured to the room freely, still smiling forcibly. “By all means!” She exclaimed and Fudge nodded, smiling back with the same friendly manner Harry had seen him use on the train nearly a month ago, “Thank you. You four,” He snapped his fingers hurriedly to the empty living room. “With me, please.” The Quartet, to whom he’d no doubt been referring to though he’d only glanced at Draco (again guiltily), looked among each other and shrugged, following him and sitting in a cramped line along the sofa while he dragged an armchair before it.
“I’ll make this part quick,” He reached into a hidden pocket in his black cloak (a stark change from the usual greens he seemed to always done, but Harry summed it up to the stress and grief of war) and withdrew a small velvet pouch, shaped strangely by the objects it contained. From another pocket he withdrew a long scroll, and began to unfurl it. “You no doubt know Dumbledore included the four of you in his will?”
All four teens blinked, confused, and blurted at the same time, “No.” Fudge snapped his head up from where he was focusing on the writing on the scroll to frown at them, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, well that’s… strange…” He shrugged his shoulders, turning back to the scroll. “It shouldn’t complicate things, though, since you each have just one item. Like I said, I’ll make this quick,” He cleared his throat. and began to read aloud from the will. “‘The last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. To Ronald Bilius Weasley,’” Ron perked up in his seat, eyebrows creased with confusion but nevertheless interested in what Dumbledore could have possibly left him. “‘I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.’”
From the velvet bag he had placed on his lap, Fudge withdrew a silver object that closely resembled a cigarette lighter, but when Ron experimentally clicked it, the light in the lamp beside them went out immediately, flying inside a chamber which had just opened in the device. Again Ron clicked it and the light flew back into place. He grinned to himself, whispering, “Wicked…”
“‘To Hermione Jean Granger,’” Fudge continued, “‘I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive.’” From within the bag came a small book, with a colorful, fairytale-like drawing on the cover, that was dusty and appeared as old as some of the books they were forced to read in History of Magic. Hermione placed it in her lap and ran a hand down its dusty surface, a single tear pattering onto the corner of the book as she did so.
Fudge gave her a smile he must have assumed was comforting, then continued. “‘To Draco Lucius Malfoy, I leave my wand, in the hope that he will put its power to good use.’” Reaching out a shaking hand, Draco took the thin, long, wooden wand out of the Minister's hand and turned it in his fingers, shivering as he felt a warmth run from the wood through his skin and veins. It was his, wasn’t it? He’d disarmed Dumbledore on the tower, but how could he have known…
“And finally,” Draco immediately looked up from studying the wand in his hands in interest to watch what Fudge was going to reveal next, feeling his heart sink to the depths of his stomach as the man began to remove a small vial from inside the pouch, inside which he could see a silvery, thick liquid, which sparkled brilliantly in the sun. “‘To Harry James Potter, I leave a memory, in the hope that he will keep it secret and safe, and use it only in desperate need.’” Slowly, Fudge leaned forward and carefully dropped the vial in Harry's palm, who took it and frowned down at the sparkling contents.
“Do any of you,” After a long few minutes, the four friends looked up from examining their gifts and into the Minister’s eyes, “Have a faintest clue why Dumbledore would leave these items in your possession?
Quietly, the kids shook their heads, and Fudge sighed deeply but resignedly, rolling up his scroll. “Ah, well, that is to be expected I assume. Dumbledore was a man of many secrets, as we all know, but he had his way. If it helps,” He nodded at the four objects. “I’m certain if he wanted you to have those, it was for good reason. He was always an avid believer in the ‘greater good,’ you know. But, sometimes, his methods can go too far…” He looked Harry in the eye, now frowning deeply. “Dumbledore didn’t just leave you that memory. He also left the Sword of Gryffindor. However, we cannot give it to you.”
“‘We?’” Hermione exclaimed, accusatory. “What do you mean, ‘we?’” Fudge sighed. “The Sword of Gryffindor is not Dumbledore’s to give away, Ms. Granger. It is property of the school, and while the school is not owned by the Ministry, of course, it is also not owned by Dumbledore -”
“But it belongs to Harry,” Ron protested, as Draco’s head jerked around throughout the whole conversation without a clue what anyone was talking about. “It came to him in the Chamber of Secrets.” Fudge again sighed deeply, which was beginning to feel agitating, as if he saw them as naive children. “The Sword can come to anyone who proves themself a true Gryffindor, at least that’s how the legend goes. It does not mean that person owns it. In fact, I scarcely believe Godric Gryffindor created it with the intention that it would ever be owned by one person after his death, given the nature of such a legend.” Although, treated as children or not, the teenagers couldn’t deny the truth to that statement as they nodded along sadly.
Thus they were left in silence once more as Fudge rolled up and pocket the scroll and velvet bag.
Draco looked over at the vial Harry was turning in his fingertips, and felt the guilt rise up to a lump in his throat. He knew he should have told him by now how Dumbledore wanted them to see memories of a man named ‘Tom Riddle,’ but he simply hadn’t known when would be a good time to break it to him. To explain that Dumbledore’s dying wish was an instruction for the Chosen One; surely that would just add more pressure and weight to Harry’s shoulders he most certainly didn’t need.
“Is that all?” Hermione asked, hugging the aged book to her chest and quickly swiping away at her wet cheeks with one hand. The others all looked up at Fudge too, and he, seeing four pairs of eyes on him, immediately looked into the gray ones, and the boy sitting at the far end of the couch who possessed them. “No,” he said, overcome with the same guilty expression Harry had been noticing him having whenever he laid eyes on Draco since he first walked in. “It’s not. Can I speak to Draco alone, for a moment?”
“No.” Harry blurted, shifting ever closer to Draco on the couch as he said it and maybe their hands brushed but so what if they did? “No, if you have something to say to Draco you’ll have to say it to all of us too,” He tilted his head a little and raised an eyebrow as he added a, “Minister,” assuring how serious he was in this situation; that this wasn’t last year, when he could watch the man drink alcohol in a bar as they discussed writing an edition in Malfoy’s Hogwarts News and not worry about professionalism. This was the here and now, and now, Harry was not going anywhere.
“Okay,” Fudge complied, clearly seeing after just a moment of eyeing the four kids glaring at him that he was outnumbered. “Okay just… Don’t freak out, alright? We can still fix this, I’m the Minister of Magic I can do practically -”
“Spit it out already, then!” Ron blurted, adding a stressed chuckle at the end probably to smooth out his clear anxiety but there was no covering it up; he was clearly very shaken. “What is it?” He asked more sincerely, leaning forward a little in his seat so that Hermione rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Fudge inhaled deeply, and when he exhaled, the words flooded out with his breath; “Rosaline Rosmerta has come forward accusing Draco of using the Imperius curse on her and the Ministry is currently looking to press charges.”
There was a long, long silence, where all eyes turned to Draco, sitting silent on the edge of the sofa, staring into nothing with vacant, cloudy eyes. A silence only broken by Ron mumbling, “So much for not bringing any bad news.” and following that, Draco let out an unexpected howl of broken anguish and lowered his head into his hands, sobbing with all his might for the pain Voldemort was still causing him long since Dumbledore died, his task was finished, and he’d been cut off from his family. For a pain that would clearly never end, no matter what they did for the teen boy.