It was a particularly good Sunday dinner at the Burrow, and Harry felt it marked the beginning of a fresh and better time for himself, his friends, and the wizarding world in general. In the past year, they had vanquished the left-over Death Eaters, retrieved both Hermione's parents and their memories, slaved away in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to get George back on his feet and stop the business collapsing, popped in to Hogwarts intermittently to give McGonagall a hand with the reconstruction, done an impressive amount of babysitting, and they were past the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Loose ends tied up.

It was time to get back on track. All three of them had received their acceptance letters for the Auror program, and even though Ron said he thought Hermione was throwing away her prodigious talent to hang out with them and chase scum across the country, Harry couldn't help but be glad that both his best friends would be with him for another year.

Hermione was seizing every opportunity to point out all the times they would've died if it hadn't been for her, and Ron was pointing out all the times their idiocy had almost got her killed, and suggesting she had an obligation to put her brain to better use, but Harry suspected Ron was secretly pleased too. He was certainly holding back from inciting an all-out fight, which seemed strangely out of character.

Harry was on the fence about it. He was starting to wonder if the blazing rows were an important part of their friendship. He thought perhaps, if they just went for it, then they could all stop discussing it.

Fortunately, he had Ginny to talk to, so at least some of his conversations were about Quidditch.

He was quietly thinking about trying out for one of the competitive teams.

It was a golden evening, with laughter and stories, Molly's excellent cooking, and a breeze like apples, sweet and new. They were all sitting around the tables in the garden, Ginny was stealing cucumber off his plate, and he realised he was happy.

"Mu-uum! Would you stop fussing!"

"Yeah, mum, what's got into you tonight? That's the fifth time you've tried to feed Charlie asparagus, and you know he doesn't like it,"

Molly did seem to be in a bit of a flap. She'd been overloading people's plates, and affectionately patting and hugging people more than usual. Harry had assumed she was a little stressed because it wasn't long since the anniversary of Fred's death, but she quite pink in the face, and looking over at Arthur apprehensively.

"I wanted to wait until after dessert!" she said breathlessly, trying to tuck an escaping strand of hair back into her bun.

"Molly dear, I think you've been sprung. You might as well sit down and tell them,"

"Tell us what?"

"Yeah, what's going on?"

Everyone craned to stare down the table at Molly, tucking herself back into her seat and looking flustered.

She seemed a little… nervous?

"Dad? What's going on?"

"This is your mother's news," said Arthur, eating another forkful of roast chicken, and patting Molly's hand comfortingly.

"Mum?"

"Well." She took a steadying breath. "Your father and I agree that now that you're all grown up, and doing your own things… I could go back and finish my training."

There was a little uncertain murmur round the table.

No-one was saying anything. Forks paused mid-air.

"Well," said Hermione loudly, filling the gap, "I think that's an excellent idea. What kind of training is it?"

The atmosphere got somehow more tense.

What had Molly been training for before she'd had a family? Harry couldn't remember; he thought maybe someone might've mentioned it, but it wasn't coming to mind.

"It's Auror training, dear. I had to give it up when I found I was pregnant with Bill, and it's been such a long time I'll have to start from the beginning,"

Consternation chased its way around the table.

"Is this a joke?" Percy was eyeing his mother anxiously, glasses glinting in the evening sun.

Molly took another breath.

"No. No, I'm quite serious."

"But you're really old!" Burst out Ron. Harry winced as everyone pulled faces. "No, no, not like that, I just mean- you're a grandmother!"

Molly kept glancing to Arthur for support.

"I had hoped, Ron dear, to be… to be rather more than that…"

Harry could see she was starting to look quite worried now.

More silence.

"Well I zink it is wonderful idea," said Fleur, "We should all follow our dreams, no?"

The silence was just getting awkward.

"But mum, it's dangerous," Charlie said, staring at her like she'd grown an erumpent horn.

"So is childbirth," Molly retorted, "And you work with dragons, so you're hardly in a position to criticise,"

"Well, yes, but-"

"This isn't about Fred, is it?" George cut in, "I mean, you're not doing this to avenge him or anything, right?"

Molly smiled.

"No dear. I really do just want to finish my training,"

"Oh," said Bill, looking relieved, "So you're not planning on actually working as an Auror then,"

"Well…" she was exchanging a look with Arthur again, "That depends…"

"On what?" demanded Percy, horrified.

"Well… on whether they decide to employ me," she said simply, "It is possible they will decide I'm too old, but I think I can make a compelling case for employment,"

"What?"

"Well, I look very much like someone's grandmother," she said placidly, "It gives me a distinct advantage in a number of situations,"

"That and you're a mad hot duelist," said Ginny, reaching for the gravy, "I think it's great mum. Just ignore them, they'll come round, they're just being boys,"

The table erupted into protests.

"Hey! That's not fair, we're just worried,"

"About a little Auror training for the witch who killed Bellatrix Lestrange?" Ginny scoffed, "Pull the other one. You're just going to have to find a new baby sitter,"

"She could get hurt," someone was saying.

"She could get killed!"

"Mum, does this mean you're going to be in our classes?!" Bellowed Ron over the din.

Molly went very pink.

"Yes, dear."

Everyone shut up to digest this information.

"Fabulous idea, mum,"

"Yup, brilliant. Let's face it, he won't remember to pack clean undies otherwise,"

"Has anyone ever taken their mum to Auror training before?"

"Oh shut up,"

"So should we be expecting you to turn up in disguise? We should have a code word or something, so we know it's you,"

"Yeah, and like a system, for if you're off hunting warlocks, you know 'get your own dinner, I'm off to torture someone',"

"Well, you might have to learn to cook," Molly said. Her round face was still pink, but this time Harry thought it was excitement.

"Congratulations, Mrs Weasley,"

"Yeah, congratulations, mum,"

Molly beamed at them.

"Thank you, dears. Who's ready for pudding?"