In the Garden

by CNGB

There was a certain—expectation—that everyone who came from wizarding families felt. They were supposed to be in the House that their parents had come from, or the House that their brothers and sisters had been put into. "Do you think I'll be put into Gryffindor?" "I don't know." "Oh."

A/N: Uh . . . hi!

So I haven't written anything real in what feels like forever, and I know that I'm . . . very . . . rusty. There's a bit of a writer's block that I'm having to overcome, and I'm happy to say that this one-shot did help me out a bit, but I'm still not completely out. Oh, but anyway, yeah, I'm rambling. Sorry about that.

Written for Aim. Reach. Increase.'s The Crayola Challenge, using the color Granny Smith Apple.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. And you know what? I don't even work for the Crayola company.

XxX

It was the first time Al had stayed overnight in just short of a year. James was a first-year at Hogwarts and wasn't able to be with them to celebrate Grandma's birthday, but a small part of Al was relieved. They never got along.

He wasn't sure if anyone else was awake in the house. Mum had wanted them to come the day prior as a sort of surprise gift, to which none of the Potters had any objections; Al and Lily loved the Burrow, and so did Dad (even if he wasn't there yet. It would be another hour or so before he was able to get off work). The Weasley family was a huge family, and staying at the Burrow always successfully reminded Al of the great family that he was a part of. He would never be alone.

Briefly, he wondered how James was doing. Al didn't think he was thinking about Grandma's birthday at school.

Before James started attnding Hogwarts, when they visited Grandpa and Grandma, he and Al had always shared Uncle Ron's old room. The absence of wondering whether or not James would prank Al while he rested practically loomed over him and even distracted him from falling asleep. It was just . . . weird.

Al rolled over and shut his eyes, attempting to clear his mind, but it was futile. His brain was assaulted by visions of playing Quidditch with his cousins and eating delicious sweets in honor of his grandmother's birth—not of fluffy sheep jumping over a fence Aunt Hermione had taught him to think of when he had trouble sleeping (some sort of Muggle thing, Al wasn't sure . . .).

Then, he opened his eyes. Had the clock beside him not said one o'five instead of twelve-forty, he wouldn't have known any time had elapsed at all. He had gone to sleep for a short time—what had woken him up?

As if to answer his question, Al could hear the door opening all the way on the first floor. Dad. It was obvious that he wasn't going to get to sleep within the next two minutes, so he might as well greet his father before Dad turned in with Mum.

Al crept down the stairs as quietly as he could, so as not to wake up anyone else in the house, and then jumped down the last three. He was suddenly grateful that he was wearing socks, because they seemed to quite the fall.

Dad had already noticed Al coming down (he had really great hearing) and smiled a bit at him. Dad looked tired, and Al wondered if something bad had happened. He hoped not. He and James and Lily and Mum—perhaps especially Mum—hated it when something bad happened, because then Dad was around that much less. As Head of the Auror Department, it was to be expected, but . . .

"Al," said Dad, "you should be in bed."

But Al just smiled and trotted (as quietly as he could) over to his father and hugged him. "Hi, Dad! Why are you so late?"

"Oh, nothing much to worry about. A lot of paper work, that's all."

Al believed him.

"Why are you up so late? You haven't been sneaking around outside, have you? The gnomes might bite."

Al scoffed. "I know how to get rid of the gnomes, Dad. But no, I just couldn't sleep."

"Best to try, you know. Your mum is going to want you and Lily both to get up early, and it's already"—he checked his watch—"one-twelve. At least try."

"I know, I will. I just wanted to say 'hi.' "

"Well, hi to you, too," he chuckled.

xXxxXx

The next time he woke up, he at least knew that he had been sleeping. He vaguely recalled some fuzzy dream where he and Lily had been eating grapes, but it slipped his mind completely within five minutes of being awake.

The Burrow was alive.

He could already hear movement in the floors below—he could hear Dad and Mum and Uncle Bill and Uncle Charlie, and maybe that was Aunt Angelina? Sounded like her.

Al got up to stretch and shuffled around, trying to find his clothes for the day. He had thrown them somewhere—oh, there they were. The bed had almost concealed them.

"'Been trying to think about the name for the new joke box," Uncle George was saying as Al came out of his room, "but I don't know what it should be yet. I'm torn between Rebwinknob, which is a combination of all three suckers, and Dashers, because I've always liked how that sounds."

"I like Dashers," said Uncle Ron.

"But who asked you?"

"You did."

Ron was about to retort when Aunt Hermione yelled from the kitchen that she needed him. Uncle George and Aunt Angelina said "goodmorning" to Al once they noticed him standing at the bottom of the staircase and went into the next room, presumably to talk to Uncle Bill. Al went into the kitchen.

"Where did Rose go?" he asked Aunt Hermione.

"What's the matter? Don't want to spend any time with your good old uncle and Aunt Hermione?" teased Ron.

"Hush, dear. Al, Rose and Hugo and Lily are playing in the backyard. You should go and join them. We'll call you all in when breakfast is ready."

Al smiled and thanked her and went to join his cousins and sister in whatever problems for the world they were causing.

There was a snippy breeze that tossed a few dead leaves across the grass, but otherwise the Sun was as warm as it tended to be in October. Al found Rose and Lily to be sitting under an apple tree that their grandparents had bought with a bit of extra money four years prior and Hugo sitting on a bench that almost looked submerged in some type of hot pink-ish flower that was as tall as Al's knees. Rose and Lily both looked up as Al approached and greeted him warmly, and Lily moved over to give Al room to sit between the two.

"Al, Lily and I were just talking—"

"—We were debating—"

"—What House would you want to be in, if you couldn't get into Gryffindor?"

He almost felt a bit sick. He didn't want to think about what House he was going to get into, and he especially didn't want to think about not getting into Gryffindor. He only had a few more months before he, like James, would be sent to Hogwarts where he would either be Sorted into Gryffindor—or not.

"Er . . ."

"I think Ravenclaw," said Rose, and then, nudging Lily, "but this one says Hufflepuff."

Lily pouted. "But Hufflepuffs are—are nice! They're not fools, you know!"

"I didn't say they were fools, now, did I? I just said that Ravenclaw happens to be better. . . ."

"They're both good," intercepted Al.

"Yeees, but which is better?" said Lily.

"Gryffindor."

"Out of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw."

"They're equal."

"Okay," said Rose. "What about Slytherin? We're still not including Gryffindor, here."

Al hesitated, but then thought about all the stories James had told him about the Slytherin House, and how James had threatened that if he was Sorted into Slytherin, that he would hex Al in the corridors everytime they seen each other, and said, "Ravenclaw."

"Ugh!" Lily groaned. Al noted that Rose looked somewhat pleased.

"Rose?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you—I mean, do you think you'll get into Ravenclaw?"

Lily looked interested. "Yes, do you? Is that why you wouldn't let me pick Gryffindor over the other two?"

"I . . . don't know," said Rose. "I don't know what House I'll be put in. No one does."

"No," agreed Al, "but what do you think you'll be put in?"

Rose didn't answer, and instead payed a whole lot of attention to a miniature garden of dandelions by her left foot. Al decided not to bother her about it and Lily, somewhat surprisingly, backed down as well.

Al thought he undersood. There was a certain—expectation—that everyone who came from wizarding families felt. They were supposed to be in the House that their parents had come from, or the House that their brothers and sisters had been put into. Al and Rose's parents had all been put into Gryffindor, and while a few of their cousins had been put into different Houses, the result was usually the same.

Al hoped that he was in Gryffindor. Dad and Mum had both assured him that it didn't matter where he was put in, that they would love him no matter what ("And your brother will, too," Mum had huffed), but Al felt that it would be easier if he was Sorted into Gryffindor.

"Mum and Aunt Ginny are making pie," said Hugo. Al hadn't even heard him coming towards them.

"Ooh, what kind?" asked Lily.

"Apple."

"I hope it's green apple," said Lily, frowning. "I hate red apples."

"Do you?" asked Rose.

"Yes."

"I think it'll be green apple, anyway," she said, pointing upward to the apples above their heads. "Unless they go buy some red apples . . . but I don't really see why they would do that, when they have an apple tree in their backyard."

"Are we seriously having a conversation about apples?" groaned Hugo.

Hugo is Gryffindor material.

"You're the one who brought it up!" defended Rose.

"Yes, well . . . Lily, do you want to come see this bug I've found over there? It's wicked."

"Yes! But I'm going to smoosh it if it crawls on me."

"Understood."

Al and Rose were left alone.

"Do you think I'll be put into Gryffindor?"

Al looked at his cousin, sizing her up. She was brilliant, and brilliance was generally associated with Ravenclaw, but then Aunt Hermione had been brilliant and in Gryffindor. "I don't know."

"Oh."

"Will I?"

Rose did the same for him, looking him up and down. Finally she said, "I don't know."

"Oh."

And that was that.

XxX

A/N: . . . Oops.

Yes, I know I'm a terrible person for publishing this. But, you know, I did accept the challenge . . . and I realize that Molly Weasley I's name doesn't have "Smith" in it, but she was the first person I thought of when I seen Granny Smith Apple as an optional prompt. And like . . . there's the apple (pie), which I made green. Yes, I do realize that I'm the lamest person in existence. You don't have to tell me. 3

Maybe I should say something on the Houses? Yes, I think I should. This story, in regards to the opinions that were expressed by the characters on the subject of Hogwarts Houses, does not represent my feelings towards , don't be angry with me—and Slytherins, not y'all, either. I love all the Houses, and I wrote this just thinking of what I believe the characters' beliefs might be. I'm not saying that Al would be Sorted into Gryffindor, I'm not saying Rose would be Sorted into Ravenclaw, and I'm not saing that Lily would be Sorted into Hufflepuff. Promise.

'Kay 'kay, bye.

~ Brandi