Harry walked into the cafe. As it usually did when he went someplace, the chatter died down and calls of "It's Harry, Harry Potter!" rang out.
It only took seconds for the owner himself to come bustling out of the kitchen.
"Welcome, welcome!" he cried out. "Any meal! On the house!"
Harry smiled at the owner, a short, pudgy fellow who could use a hair growth potion.
"No, I couldn't allow you to do that!"
And the whole cafe held on to his every word.
"Ron will pay for it all!" Harry said with a smile as the redheaded man walked in.
"I'll do what?" he asked suspiciously. After all, last time he and Harry had gone to lunch together he had ended up . . . Well he didn't like to think about that.
The owner showed them to the most prominent seat, although Harry would have preferred a seat with a better escape route and fewer prying eyes. The usual swarm of reporters soon jostled their way in after him, all trying to get a seat inside. A few lucky ones got seats within hearing range of the table. They had learned their lesson of bothering Harry and asking questions. He wasn't that fond of reporters and wouldn't hesitate to set Ginny on them.
The reporters listened hungrily to the conversation over lunch, as well as noting what Harry was eating and his table manners and everything else they felt was extremely important to the Wizarding public. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley having lunch wasn't an odd sight. They often got lunch while their respective wives went shopping together.
The reporters were salivating over an extremely romantic sentence that Harry had said about Ginny when the conversation took a turn for the interesting. "I went to Saint Mungo's today," said Ron.
"And . . ." asked Harry, sitting forward with a peculiar expression on his face.
"Six months," said Ron. His voice tight with worry. "Harry, I don't think I'll survive this."
The reporters all gasped. Did Ron have a horrible disease? Did he only have six months to live?! Now that he had pointed it out, he did look pretty sick.
"You'll be fine," said Harry. "After all, we have faced worse."
"Yes," said Ron, "but not like this. This is certain. This is unavoidable."
"Facing off with old Voldie was also unavoidable," said Harry. His face still bearing that same peculiar expression.
"You can't compare this with fighting Voldermort!" said Ron. "At least there we had a chance of success."
"You'll be fine, Ron" said Harry, his tone one of great patience.
"No Harry, I won't! There is no way out! I'm stuck! I'm going to die, Harry! What do I do? What do I do!?" His voice rose in hysteria and panic.
Harry stood up, grabbing Ron by the arm and dragging him out the door, setting some Galleons on the table as he did so. As soon as they stepped into the street, Harry twisted, apparating away to who knows where and dragging Ron with him.
The reporters didn't even try to follow. They were completely and utterly stunned.
Then there was a mass of movement as they all tried to leave at once and get to their newspapers and tabloids to print their news: Ron Weasley was going to die in six months. It didn't take long for the newspapers and such to print: "Ron Weasley to Die!", "Tragedy Strikes Golden Trio!", or "Six Months to Live!"
Only one newspaper was different from all the rest. The Quibbler was run by an old friend of the Potters and Weasleys, and they had managed to get an exclusive interview "Hermione Weasley Pregnant!" it read. "Due in Six Months!"