'I've cast in every favour
I'm down to my last dime
I'm not looking for a saviour
To change my life.'
- If I'm Going Nowhere (Cody Bryan Band)
It was the day Ronnie and her dad were supposed to pick him up, two days since he'd punched a house elf in the nose and gotten him to join his fan club, one day since he'd made himself sick trying to eat the entire triple-layered treacle tart surprise in one sitting, six hours since Aunt Petunia told him to clean up the mess in his room, and two hours since he'd told Uncle Vernon he was leaving today.
He was rereading his birthday letters with a grin on his face, and the longing to be with his eclectic group of friends was even more potent.
Dear Harry,
What is wrong with you!? You can't just neglect telling your guardians where you're going! Honestly, you must drive them up the wall!
A house elf? I've read about those. They're usually tied to the old families…I wonder who he belonged to. Do you think this might have something to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Did he have a house elf? Presumably, he must have been from an old pureblood family…oh, I can't wait to get to the Hogwarts library! Blast you and your inability to let my curiosity rest!
See you at Ronnie's house! I wonder what it'll be like. I'm ever so excited; she's from a magical family, and I've read up quite a bit on wizarding architecture. Oh, I hope I don't come off as ignorant in front of her parents!
Herman
And of course, then there was Nanelle's letter of self-deprecation.
Dear Harry,
The beans are alihotsy seeds, and I thought you might like them. If they're grown right, the leaves of the tree can cause uncontrollable laughter. It reminded me of you, and how you always know how to make me laugh. Of course, it can also cause hysteria, and it was used in medieval torture…
You can't really have liked them if you didn't know what they were…I'm so sorry! It's just, this is the first time I've had to give presents to anyone I wasn't related to, and I panicked! I forgot you mustn't have a herbologist handy, since you live with muggles. I'll try harder next year!
I'll be a day late in coming to Ronnie's. My gran's already informed Mr and Mrs Weasley. I have a bit of a toothache, so we have to go to St Mungo's for a spell. I'll see you on Tuesday!
Sincerely,
Nanelle
Harry wasn't aware that a minor toothache was a St Mungo's problem, but who was he to say that? His favourite though, was Ronnie's letter.
Hey Harry,
If we die next year, I blame you. Ta.
Ronnie
That letter right there was the reason they were best friends.
He then heard a clanking in the electric fire, and a moment before it happened, he realised what was coming.
BOOM!
"What the devil is going on in there boy!" Uncle Vernon yelled from outside, where he'd been pretending to inspect the begonias in a vague attempt to spy on the wizards when they got there.
Aunt Petunia was off to her neighbour's house, unwilling to even be under the same roof as those unnatural freaks. Dudley was with her, much to his displeasure.
From behind the fireplace came cracking noises and then muffled voices.
"Wha's this?"
"It seems to be some sort of—"
"Shove over Fred!"
"You shove over Ronnie, your elbow's in my—"
"Is that your eyeball—"
"Dad, what's—"
Harry collapsed in a heap, laughter threatening to erupt out of him like Mt Vesuvius. Uncle Vernon came thundering into the house just as the older sounding man said, "Right, stay clear everybody, I'm going to blast this barrier out of the way!"
Harry backed up, and Uncle Vernon yelled, "Now just what do you think you're doing!? That's my fireplace!"
"Why have you blocked it sir?" asked the unnaturally polite tone of Fred's voice.
Uncle Vernon thundered, "I haven't blocked it! It's an electric fireplace!"
"Oh, does it have a plug? How fascinating!" exclaimed the voice Harry was almost 98.9% was Mr Weasley's.
Uncle Vernon glanced at Harry, and seemed to come to the conclusion that everyone associated with magic was off their rocker.
Harry decided to speak up. "Why don't you simply vanish it Mr Weasley?"
Ronnie mumbled, "Sure, sound sane now."
"Why ever didn't I think of that myself? Right, give us a minute—I've forgotten the spell."
"Evanesco dad. Could you hurry it up a bit; I'm losing feeling in my lungs."
"Ugh George, I think that is your eyeball!"
In a trice, the electric fireplace had been vanished, and out tumbled Ronnie, her twin brothers, and a man with equally bright, if a bit thinning, red hair, lopsided glasses affixed on the bridge of his rather long nose (so that's where Ronnie got her nose from) and a genial smile.
Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry. "Where'd my fireplace go boy!"
Harry was glad to be unhelpful. "To the place where vanished things go."
"Don't worry Mr Dursley," Mr Weasley reassured him. "The minute they all go through, I'll bring it back."
"Like a boomerang," Harry concurred sagely.
"Harry m'boy!" Fred exclaimed.
"Absolutely astounding," said George.
"Simply spiffing," added Fred, shaking Harry's left hand.
"Stupendously splendid," continued George, shaking Harry's right hand.
"To see you again old chap!" they both chorused.
"Likewise," Harry answered. "You must be Mr Weasley."
Mr Weasley greeted Harry, and then said, "Wonderful house."
Uncle Vernon grunted in acknowledgement.
"Right, do you want to say goodbye to your uncle Harry?"
"Not particularly." Mr Weasley stood there unsurely.
Ronnie facepalmed. "You could have pretended at least!"
Harry gave her a raised eyebrow. "Why should I conform?"
"Because you don't want to be locked up, innit?"
"I suspect it doesn't really matter, does it? We're all locked up in our created worlds, in the end."
Ronnie gave him a deadpanned look. "Stop philosophising. You know I don't care."
Harry concurred.
"This is The Burrow," Ronnie said, pointing at a lopsided, wonderful, amazing, homely abode on a hill that looked about two huffs and puffs of a wolf to blow it down.
Harry was in love.
"You live here?" Harry asked, then said, "Can I live here?"
Ronnie thought about this, before saying, "Probably. Mum already thinks you're one of hers. Dad's a bit on the fringe—thinks we're going to make babies or something. Wasn't paying all that much attention, to be fair."
Harry's heart warmed considerably.
"This is my room."
"It looks like someone vomited a pumpkin in here."
"I know, isn't it hella brilliant?"
Harry chose to keep his opinions to himself.
"Is that a goldfish tank?" he asked instead, looking away from the blown-up poster of Galvin Gudgeon, the most suckish seeker the world had ever seen.
Ronnie was oddly defensive about him.
"Yeah, used to have one, and then one of Charlie's old socks ate it." Ronnie still looked pained by this. "Happened when I was eight."
Harry hummed. "You don't have a very good track record with pets, do you?"
"Shove off!" Ronnie growled, flumping into her bed.
Harry took one last sweeping look at the low-ceilinged attic that was Ronnie's bedroom, took in the violent shades of orange that seared the eyeballs the longer you looked at it, and then asked, "So where am I sleeping?"
Ronnie sat up and said matter-of-factly, "Well, mum and I had a bit of a tiff on that. Says that I can't have boys in my room if I'm in it, and Ginny's not budging from her room, so I had a bit of a strop, she had a bit of a strop, and dad kind of talked her into letting you stay here."
Harry felt oddly relieved. He'd prefer rooming with Ronnie anyway.
"Nanelle and Herman?"
"Nanelle's with Ginny," Ronnie shrugged. "Bet they'll get along too. Ginny's a good sort, even if she's as stubborn as Fred's ingrowing toenail most days. Herman—"
Ronnie started snickering unkindly, and Harry was about to ask when suddenly, Ronnie got off the bed and headed for the door. "He's here—saw him out the window."
Harry followed dutifully.
"You can't be serious!" Herman groaned, looking at Harry exasperatedly.
He hadn't been at The Burrow five minutes before Fred and George set off a dungbomb in the stairwell, and so the entire household had to be evacuated while Mrs Weasley, who Harry had thought was just like the chocolate fudge she made—gooey and sweet on the inside, a bit tough on the outside, and bad for ones health in large amounts—berated them in loud volumes.
Herman was deathly afraid of her already.
"This is Harry we're talking about," Ronnie reminded him, tucking her shoulder-length hair behind her ear. "Someone else's house elf can be his eternally loyal servant."
Herman sputtered for a while, and Harry heard the occasional, "case never been recorded—could've sworn—why's he got to make everything mental—trix are for kids—"
Harry didn't think he heard the last one correctly, but did it really matter?
"One hears what one wants to hear," he informed Tarquin sagely.
Tarquin sauntered past him without giving him a backward look.
"Fucking pretentious twat," Ronnie grumbled. It seemed that the Scabbers Sting™ was still present.
Harry chose not to comment.
"Breakfast is ready dears!" Mrs Weasley called, the mind-bending smells wafting from the kitchen making Harry's stomach do cartwheels.
Herman had just finished putting his things in Percy's room, where he was to be staying ("Oh that's wonderful! So much I wanted to discuss with him, and seeing as he is a prefect—" "You're supposed to hate it you bloody tosser!" "Language Ronnie!" "Shove off Herman!"), and Harry had yet to meet everyone in the household, but at the mention of food, all decorum seemed to fly out the window.
"Right," Ronnie said, practically dragging Herman out of the room. "You can be anal about your stuff after we've eaten."
"You need to sort out your priorities," Herman informed her huffily.
Harry thought that the two of them would make a wonderful married couple.
"Mummy, have you seen my jumper?" asked a young girl's voice, and it was the first time Harry had ever heard someone like that.
Nanelle's voice was quiet, shy and all manners of submissive, and Ronnie, at the other end, sounded like a prepubescent boy, all gruff tones and husky yells.
This one was clear and feminine, without any of Nanelle's inherent submissiveness.
Harry was intrigued.
"This must be your sister," Harry said, drawing everyone's attention to him, including the ginger child that had spoken.
Her face went bright scarlet, and every bit of confidence she might have had fled.
Figures.
"Yeah, 'at's Ginny," Ronnie said around a mouth stuffed full of mashed potatoes. She swallowed. After a bit of contemplation, she added, "Think she has a crush on you actually."
A horrified silence engulfed the room, though Harry didn't see why. He said, relieved, "Oh, good. I thought I was the only one."
Fred snickered, Herman face-palmed and groaned, "Tactless…", and George dumped a dollop of salt on Ronnie's plate of perfectly seasoned food.
Ronnie glared at him. "Fuck off George."
Before Mrs Weasley could berate her (she looked about ready to, like a raging dragon), Herman snapped, "Language Ronnie!"
Ronnie turned her glare to him. "It was perfectly good food he just ruined cause he's a f—"
"Cutting your nose to spite your face—"
"What does that even mean—"
"If you read more, maybe I wouldn't have to explain every last—"
"Why are we even friends—"
They both abruptly cut off as they turned their heated glares at Harry. Ronnie declared, "I blame you."
Harry looked up from his porridge. "Why does anyone care how much wood the woodchuck chucked?"
Ginny ventured to answer when no one else did. "Because people have…too much time…on their…hands…" she said, her voice becoming more and more mumbly as the sentence went on.
Harry changed the subject, the answer still alluding him. "If you have a crush on me," he said casually, to the greater reddening of Ginny's face, "why did I not receive a birthday present from you?"
Ginny stared at him, horrified.
Harry happily went back to his food and reached for the salt, only to find that it was all gone. He then noticed that it was on Ronnie's plate.
"A bit greedy, weren't we?" he said.
Ronnie shoved him.
"No need to be so salty," Harry grinned.
"Fuck my life," Ronnie groaned.
"Language!"
I think I'm in love with Ronnie. Just saying. Extra long chapter, just to make up for the protracted delay! How was this chapter? Please review and let me know?
