GRANGER, WE NEED TO TALK
Chapter 2
Disclaimer:
All recognizable characters are the property of JK Rowling
No money is being made from writing this story.
This work is not beta'd. Any mistakes are mine.
We Won. Why Do We Feel So Lousy?
[(Yes, this is a flashback from Ch 1 )]
June 16, 1998
After an exhausting three days of International Portkey trips, they had arrived back in England and back at the Burrow. Part way through the trip, Harry had vowed to Hermione that if they ever returned to Australia for another attempt to restore her parents memories, they were going to fly on a Muggle aircraft.
Neither of them had quite expected the greetings they got from their significant other.
Mr. Weasley had greeted them warmly as they walked into the Burrow. And Molly had given out her patented suffocating hugs, remarking on how under fed they both looked and food would be on the table shortly. Each had expected a little more enthusiasm from Ron and Ginny than that offered to old friends who had not been seen for a while. They spent the evening catching up with each other on what had happened over the last three weeks.
Ron had held Hermione when she broke down in tears while describing how she had failed with bringing back her parents memories. But it had been sort of old Ron awkward cuddle. Not boyfriend Ron snuggle. Hermione had an instant of karma from when she had once described Ron as having the emotional range of a teaspoon.
Hermione had half-way expected Ron's behavior as their We Are Sweethearts demeanor had dwindled sharply shortly after the funeral for Fred. She still did not know how to handle their new, but old, but new, relationship. Part of her wanted boyfriend Ron back. Part of her wanted just her old friendship with Ron back. And part of her wanted what that traitorous little whisper in her mind that she quashed whenever it popped up suggested.
Harry was confused. Ginny had not greeted him as passionately as he had expected after almost a month long separation. She hadn't been cold so much as . . . distant, maybe?
They were supposed to be a couple, right? So why was her long-lost greeting a light hug and just a peck on the cheek? What had happened to the kisses that had curled his toes? (And uncurled other parts of him!)
After two days, a frustrated Harry had finally hauled Ginny out to the orchard away from the house and asked her what was wrong. After a lot of hemming and hawing, Ginny had finally said things had changed. When he pressed her about what had changed, she said that she had, and believed he had also.
"Harry, I do not expect you to understand how living last year at Hogwarts, living under the Carrow's, has changed me." I don't think you understand how living your year searching for Horcruxes has changed you. And twice, twice damn you, you deliberately put yourself directly in front of Voldemorts killing curse."
"When Hagrid carried you into the courtyard and Voldmort announced that you were dead, the pain of my heart ripping to shreds was worse than any Cruciatus the Death Eaters cursed me with last year."
"Then you lived. Somehow you lived. And I soared! My Harry was alive! All I had to do was fight a bit longer and we would be together forever!"
"You know the rest of the battle was a confused mess. I thought I was going to die a dozen times from curses that just missed me or ones I never saw coming that were blocked by a shield someone cast. You've told me you saw Hermione, Luna and I fighting Bellatrix. But I haven't told you I was losing. I was so tired. I could feel that I was not going to keep dodging her curses much longer."
Ginnys' voice was rising. "She was going to kill me. It was just a matter of a few more seconds and I was going to die!" The last words were said almost in a scream.
She gulped, shuddered and after a few seconds started talking again.
"Then Mom saved me by killing Bellatrix, suddenly you appeared out of nowhere to save everyone from Voldemort's curses. There you were, my hero, putting himself out front so he would kill no one else." Ginny was starting to cry. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.
"Do you have any idea how my emotions whipsawed through ecstasy that you were still alive down to total despair that The Monster was going to kill you, probably in some sickeningly violent way, AND I WAS GOING TO SEE IT!"
By now Ginny was a blubbering mess, actually beating on Harrys' chest with her fists. Harrys' reaction was to pull her into a tight hug as tears started to roll down his face also. He opened his mouth a couple of times to say something only to close it again as he could not find any words to say.
It took almost five minutes and a handkerchief wipe before Ginny could start talking again. "You know, Harry. I was actually injured worse when I followed you into the Ministry three years ago than I was in the final battle. But the Carrow's and the junior Death Eaters hurt me so badly last year with their hexes and curses. And they did it so casually just because they could. A casual flick from their wands and I have scars you haven't seen." Ginny's voice broke at the last.
"And Harry, I have decided that you will probably never see them."
It was the day after Harry had confronted Ginny about their relationship.
The four young adults listlessly sat scattered around the living room of the Burrow after a sweaty night of little sleep. Southern England was in the middle of a heat wave and the summer sun was scorching anything that was exposed outside under the cloudless sky.
They sweltered, trying not to stare at each other, wondering how did they get to this point?
The sheer joy at having survived The War had quickly been replaced by the soul-crushing string of funerals for the fallen. They had been the leaders of the Light, and along with Neville Longbottom, believed they had to honour all who had stood with them at that final stand against the madness. So they attended the funerals and chipped a small piece away from their
souls at every grave.
Today, four of the five were pondering their past, present and future. Hermione and Harry had returned from the almost month long trip to Australia four days ago, and all four of them were feeling off-center, off kilter, off-something. The finally meshed gears of the Golden Quartet were clashing instead of meshing.
Ron
Ron Weasley sat on the large couch in the living room staring into nothing. It was his day off from working at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and the heat was rapidly worsening his mood.
He was hot. He was miserable from dwelling on his dead brother Fred. And he was tired from working with his brother George in the store, as the ongoing struggle to keep George from collapsing completely from the death of his twin took energy Ron just did not have, because he was sleeping poorly himself. He glanced at the other people in the room. Harry Potter, his best mate, who hadn't said five words all morning and frankly looked like shite. His sister Ginny, who he thought might be the toughest of all the Weasleys, looked worn and lost. Hermione had not turned a page of the book she was reading for fifteen minutes.
Ron thought melancholy might be the word that fit his feelings for his brown-eyed friend at the moment. Sadness seemed too strong. They had not broken up as a couple so much as stepped back from the frenzied rush of relief at having lived through the Final Battle and had drifted into deciding they just could not be a couple at this time. Too many forces were working against them. Hermione's angst about obliviating her parents memories had led to her frantic trip to Australia last month. Ron had truly felt he could not leave his family at the time. The resulting failure to restore her parents memories of her as their daughter had almost broken her. If Harry had not gone with her, Ron seriously thought they may not have ever seen her again.
Ginny's Thoughts
Ginevra Weasley sat in a chair attempting to leaf through a copy of Teen Witch Weekly magazine and not stare at the boy, "No, that's not right" She thought. "The young man", seated across the room from her.
Her mind wandered over the months of agonizing over her missing love, the night-haunting memories of her abuse by the Carrow's and their Death Eater sympathizers during her sixth year at Hogwarts. Her soul crushing loss of her brother Fred and the final month of separation had changed her. Especially how she thought and felt about Harry. It had all conspired to bring a surprisingly non-dramatic end to her girlfriend/boyfriend relationship with Harry Potter. She figured being miserable from the weather was the least of her problems. Seeing him dead in the battle had almost killed her. When he came back to life to continue the fight, her heart had soared in disbelieving happiness. She was rather baffled by what she would have sworn was all enduring love for her Harry had changed after The Battle into a hard look at herself and what she wanted from the rest of her life. The two weeks of funerals had her constantly helping to prop Harry up from total collapse. The month of his absence during his trip to Australia with Hermione had left her with too much time to dwell on her and Harry's relationship. The four weeks of feeling she had to be the strong family member for the rest of the Weasley's. Supporting George, Ron and her Mum had drained her liveliness.
Yet, she believed that what was a now missing part of her personality would return given time and peace. And she had come to the conclusion that Harry was not going to be there for that fun-part of Ginny Weasley that was going to reappear when she felt she could seek out happiness again. Harry was going to spend the rest of his life as a celebrity, and he would hate it. He would hate every attempt to praise and idolize him that would come from the wizarding world. She had come to the unhappy conclusion that Harry was going to become a recluse, turning away from the magical world to seek some way to bury his memories of those who had been killed by Voldemort and his minions. The ones he had failed to save
Being the girlfriend/fiancé/wife of the Boy-Who-Lived, the Boy-Who-Conquered, the Boy-Who-Saved-All-Their-Asses, should be a life filled with endless balls, galas and parties. Life with Harry should be the stuff of fairytales and romance stories.
Life with Harry Potter, who could not rid himself of the guilt that he was responsible for all those who died fighting for him, would be a life of long silences with frequent screaming nightmares instead of sleep. From both of them.
She had decided Harry would always be a good friend, maybe her best friend, if he could be kept from descending into his own personal hell. A part of Ginny Weasley's heart wanted a return to the thrill and the passion of Harry Potter finally seeing her as a young woman. But spending the last year trapped in Hell at Hogwarts, and the desperate pragmatism forced onto her by the day to day struggle to survive and not give in to despair had changed her. Ginny had learned she could walk through Hell and come out the other side. Now, why did that thought make her think of Neville?
Ginny had no idea of what would happen next or what she would do in the near future, but
trying to re-romance Harry Potter?
Not happening.
Hermione's Tale
Numb. That was the emotion most prevalent across Hermione Granger mind. She felt her emotions were burned out. A year on the run seeking the horcruxes. Perpetually tired, hungry and cold as the warming charms on the tent slowly failed through the winter. The constant worry as the locket leached out their good feelings.
The agony of Ron's leaving.
The joy of his return.
She remembered how whipsawed her feelings for Ron were during the next months as she struggled with her traumatic memories of torture on the floor of Malfoy Manor and the death of Dobby. She could only sort of remember that crazy time as they planned to, and then broke into Gringotts to steal the Horcrux from the Lestrange vault. How her stretched nerves had screamed from the danger they were entering. Turned out her nerves had been correct. She was now positive they had become insane by the time they had escaped on the dragons back (!) and then fought to the death, literally in Harry's case, against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
The joy of survival was brutally cut off by the death of Remus, Tonks, Fred and others. And then by all the funerals they had to attend. They had become the visible image that Voldemort was truly gone. That it was all going to be alright. Not attending would have been an insult to all those who had made the ultimate sacrifice in the War.
Broken. They were effing broken by it all. Her relationship with Ron had withered under all the unending separate assaults on their time. Ron had to spend time with family and especially George. Her month long trip to Australia and its utter failure had driven her into depression, and their relationship had suffered due to her absence. Neither of them seemed to have the energy to attempt to repair it.
Screaming nightmares, depression, lack of sleep since their return trip and now, lack of privacy at the Burrow had her wondering if she was ready to make a pilgrimage to Nepal or some other place where she could find peace, quiet and some healing.
"Of course," a traitorous little voice in the back of her head reminded her, "you have already found one way of getting some peace at night." She hoped anyone looking at her would think the blush on her face was from the stifling heat.
Harry
Harry was starting to regard mirrors as evil. They showed him all too clearly that stress did show up on the face of a person. In spite of everyone repeatedly telling him it was not his fault so many had died in the war, he could not stop thinking and dreaming that if he had just been a bit faster or smarter, so many lives could have been saved. They came to him in the night, begging for him to save them this time. And he failed.
Every bloody time.
In his more lucid moments, Harry wondered why their dying in his nightmares were usually more gruesome and brutal than most of their deaths had been. No simple Avada Kedavra and fall over dead in dreamland.
He was ineffably relieved when the funerals had ended. And the chance to flee to Australia had been a godsend to his over-stressed mind. He and Hermione had come so close to not returning to England. And part of the reason was that he and Hermione had started sleeping together in one of the hotels they had stayed at.
It had started one night a week into the search for her parents. They had found the last open hotel room in town, and for the first time had stayed in the same room for the night when Hermione's nightmares had woken him up before his own nightly visions had kicked in. Holding his screaming, thrashing, shuddering best friend down has he desperately woke her up from being tortured in Malfoy Manor had affected him deeply. He had held her weeping form in his arms until she cried herself back to sleep, and then before he could muster the energy to move, he had fallen asleep also. And his nightmares had not come to him that night. The next night, it had been Hermione who had been awakened by the cries of Harry. "No. Take me. Take me instead." That night it was her turn to hold the weeping Hero of the Wizarding World in her arms until he fell asleep. When he woke up the next morning to find her sleeping with her head on his chest, he almost imploded from embarrassment. Later, as he looked back on it, since she was on top of the blankets and he was under them, really was no different than the few times they had fallen asleep under a blanket in the Gryffindor common room when she was making him study or researching some spells or charms to save him from dragons or Voldemort.
He was trying to ease away from her when she spoke.
"Please Harry, don't move," she said, "I need to talk to you."
Without looking at him, she continued. "Harry, answer me a question."
Harry managed a grunt to let her know he was listening.
"Did you have any more bad dreams after we fell asleep together two nights ago?
It took Harry two tries before he could reply. "No."
"Neither did I," she responded. She raised her head and looked Harry right in his eyes. "And I had none last night."
Harry got as far as "B…b..but what are we g.."
At that point Hermione had raised her arm and placed a finger on his lips to quiet him.
"Harry, at this moment I really wish you were Ron. And I'll wager a pile of galleons that you wish I was Ginny."
Harry was too paralyzed to even nod.
"We are so desperate for sleep that we going to do something we should not."
Harry's eyes felt as big as saucers. He had forgotten how to breathe.
"I do not want to tease you sexually Harry." She said, continually looking him straight in the eye. "But I need my best friend right here, right where he is, right now, for me." "And that's holding Bellatrix, or Greyback, or whomever away from me."
Pause. "And I will do my damnedest to keep your ghosts away from you."
And they had kept it platonic all those nights. Even after her two failures to undo her magic on her parents, had her crying inconsolably for two days. Two days that left Harry thinking he was on a suicide watch. He became terrified to leave her alone, and insisted they leave for England before Hermione caused permanent damage to her parents in her desperation to "cure" them.
After all, this is what best friends did for each other. They helped each other, supported each other, and sometimes became a slave driver for the other. It was time to go home.
And so it was that four discontented young adults sweltered as they sat inside on a hot day, when being outside under a shade tree would have been a better choice. But that was so much effort. Didn't seem worth it.
Depression, thy results are legion.
The teens had listlessly finished lunch when suddenly a large, dark grey, regal looking owl flew in the living room window and settled on the table in front of Harry.
"Blimey Harry," exclaimed Ron. "Look at the band on its leg! That's a Gringotts owl!
"Why would Gringotts send me an Owl?" Harry asked out loud.
The owl looked Harry right in his eyes as it extended its leg with an envelope tied to it out to him. Harry untied the envelope and opened it. As soon as he did, the owl took off back out the window. It apparently did not need to deliver a reply.
Mr. Potter,
I request that you come to Gringotts tomorrow on a matter of utmost urgency.
9:00 AM would be most convenient as our discussion may last several hours.
Upon entering, please enquire for the Head Teller. He will bring you to my office.
If the above is acceptable, tap the letter with your wand and an affirmative reply will be sent to me.
Bloodslash,
Potter Account Junior Manager
Harry showed the letter to his friends around the breakfast table. No one could tell him what the letter could mean.
Hermione spoke first. "Kingsley told us that the Ministry had taken care of the demands the Goblins had made about our break-out from Gringotts. So now what?
Ron summed up their confusion when he said, "Well, it can't be that bloody…."
"Language, Ron"
"….important if the meeting is only with a Junior Account Manager."
Harry pondered those words for a short time, made a mental note to talk with Mr. Weasley, shrugged, and tapped his wand on the parchment. A blue glow flared briefly, then disappeared.
Fate was not done with the quartet this day.
It was only ten minutes later the floo flared to life in the living room and Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, asked Molly if he and Minerva McGonagall could floo in for a visit.
The floo's green flames roared to life as Kingsley stepped gracefully through the flames and dusted some soot off his robes as he stepped away from the fireplace so Professor McGonagall could follow. The tall, stately witch strolled out of the fireplace with nary a bobble, using her wand to clean her robes as she walked. All four of the young adults smiled as they greeted two of their favorite people. Molly was in a dither as she came bustling out of her kitchen. She felt that her house was not in condition for such exalted visitors. With smiling reassurances to Molly that her house was more than fit for company, Shacklebolt indicated that the four young adults and Molly should sit at the dining table with him and McGonagall.
"Harry, Ron, I'm afraid I have some bad news for the two of you. I'm sure you remember I said last spring that I would get the usual requirements waived for your entry into the Auror Academy"? Unfortunately, it seems that I am a mere Minister of Magic, not a rule upholding group of bureaucrats defending their little fiefdoms to their dying breaths."
"I cannot fire these small minded little idiots" he continued. "They actually do have the existing regulations and laws on their side. And they just point out the relevant rules to me, and say that with proper NEWT scores and recommendations from approved ministry members, they will immediately process my request to place you in auror training."
Shacklebolt seemed to struggle against wanting to spit on the floor.
He went on. "And just to put the frosting on this cake of stupidity, some of the older auror's have actually supported them saying they wouldn't want to end up having to work with some uneducated rookie." "You and Ron could probably out-dual them in less than five seconds"
"None of them were at The Battle. Oh no, they were tasked by the rule wavers with guarding department heads oh-so precious arses at the Ministry during the fighting."
The calmest, most unflappable man the young ones had ever known was practically shaking with frustration.
"PureBlood arseholes. Every bloody"…"Language, Minister", came from McGonagall. .. one of them."
The six listeners were shocked by Kingsley's outburst. Yet after a few seconds Hermione spoke up.
"Minister Sha . ., ahhh, Kingsley," she said. "I think I speak for all of us that I am honored that you consider us close enough friends to speak about your frustrations truthfully to us. Thank you for your trust."
A murmur of agreement echoed around the table.
"Minister, "started Harry.
"It's Shack to you Harry, and to the rest of you also." Kingsley stated. "I get enough fawning over every day at the Ministry to supply me for a lifetime."
Harry paused, obviously affected by Shacklebolt's declaration. "Shack, what can we do to help?
"Get some da…er …really good NEWT scores," was the reply. "Which leads me into why I am here with Minerva.
All eyes swiveled to Professor McGonagall who cleared her throat.
"First, let me be the first to inform you that Hogwarts will open again for classes this
September 7th, only a week late" she spoke with obvious pride. Ginny and Hermione both perked up at this piece of news. In fact, Hermione had to suppress a squeal of delight.
"I can take my NEWT'S, I can take my NEWT'S" was chanting in her brain.
"Second, I have been confirmed as the new Headmistress of Hogwarts."
"Wow. Congratulations Professor," Harry and Ron said simultaneously.
The girls both rolled their eyes and Hermione let Ginny state the obvious.
"That's Headmistress, you thickheads," she huffed. She looked at Hermione. "Boys," she continued in that tone of voice women have used forever to describe young male stupidity.
"Third, I could use your help in the rebuilding," the Headmistress continued. "All four of you are magically powerful and we really need a final human touch on some of the school parts." "Goblins, and house elves can only take the work to a certain point."
Harry and Ron looked at each other with a "What?" in their eyes. Hermione and Ginny just nodded as though the reason for the statement was known by them.
"Fourth," the litany rolled onward. "I need the four of you attending Hogwarts this fall as a signal to all the mothers and fathers in Britain that the school is a safe place to send their precious children."
"To put it bluntly," she continued, "we need your prestige. Your fame if you will. A lot of parents will be reassured by your presence at Hogwarts that their children will be safe this year. I am telling no secrets in that I expect a small class of second and third years this term. Many of the first and second years were used last year as test subjects for Unforgivable Curse practice. Many will not return."
"And, yes," she continued relentlessly. "If we have to coddle them and baby sit them while dragging them to the Mind Healers, I will expect you to be leading the effort. In fact, I am of the belief that many of our "veterans" of The Battle could use some mind healing also."
The four youngest at the table all flicked quick glances at each other. Shacklebolt had a hard time keeping his face impassive as it was obvious that each of them thought they were coping, but, the other three could really use the help McGonagall had just offered. He was wrong in Harry's case though. Harry was actually wondering where all this worry about abused students had been when he needed it after killing Quirrel, after almost dying from the basilisk, or after Cedric's or Sirius's death.
McGonagall stopped and took a deep breath.
"Miss Granger. Will you take some notes, please. I do not need your answer on returning for what we will be calling the Eighth Year today, but, I will need your answers very quickly." "And I want you to make a list of questions and suggested changes to the classes we have and new classes we can add to the curriculum. We will discuss that in a few days."
McGonagall took a steadying breath and squared her shoulders.
"Miss Weasley, can I count on you to return for your NEWT year? McGonagall asked. She quickly held up a hand at Mrs. Weasley who had leaned forward and opened her mouth. "I want her to answer, not you Molly. She is the one who will be returning to what was a hellhole last year, and all the bad memories that entails."
"But she . . "
"Molly!"
"Well," thought Harry, "she has that Head Mistress reprimand voice down pat."
Ginny cocked an eye at Hermione who gave a slight nod. Then she turned to Harry and asked, "Think that for once in your life you can do normal?"
Harry stared back at her. Five seconds. Ten seconds passed. Then with a smirk he said, "Yeah, I can do normal."
Ginny immediately snorted. "Well, at least we will be able to say he tried"
"Yeah, right," added Hermione. "Normal."
Both girls looked at each other and both had a short attack of giggles. Both McGonagall and Shacklebolt had small grins on their faces.
Ginny continued, "Where you guys lead, I shall follow. I've got to quit being the youngest. It gets old."
McGonagall continued, "Miss Granger?
"Of course," she replied quickly.
"Mr. Potter?
Harry looked at every person present around the table before answering.
"Harry." Hermione's voice was quiet, but clear with purpose. "I know, I know! you hate how your fame and legend defines you to almost everyone else in wizarding Britain. Isn't it time to use that fame for something besides making fan girls swoon when they look at you?"
She and Harry looked at each other, unblinking, bright green to warm chocolate brown, for what seemed forever to the others around the table.
"Very well Headmistress, I will." He ignored the release of tension in her shoulders. "However Shack, you can stop your crusade to get me into Auror Academy. I think I have fought enough evil wizards and collected enough scars to last me a lifetime."
"Oh, I would have worked hard to become an Auror, but since Voldemort simplified my life by killing off all his Death Eaters who had failed him yet again, I don't think I need to become one for the Ministry now."
"After seventeen years of fighting evil in one form or another, I'm done."
Surprise rippled around the table, but no one questioned his right to say he had finally done enough.
It was a somber Headmistress who turned to Ron and quietly said, "Mr. Weasley? And once again she had to throw up a silencing hand in Molly Weasley's face. "Molly, You. Will. Be. Silent."
"This son of yours is a full grown man and has fought to the death in a war against unspeakable evil."
Ron looked astounded at the words of praise from McGonagall.
"Well, I dunno," he said "I…I mean what about George? And what about all the studying?
I mean for me to pass NEWT's would mean someone would have to stick a boot up me ar….."
"That can be done." Hermione quickly interjected with a straight face. Ginny tried, but a snort of humor broke through her try at a serious mien.
"Mr. Weasley, can you be bribed?" McGonagall asked, looking Ron right in the eye.
Ron stared back at her in confusion. "Huh?
"I have a destroyed school quidditch pitch that needs total rebuilding. So therefor I need a quidditch fanatic who can get all the work done that is needed so that the Hogwarts Quidditch season can start on time. I need hard, smart work or you will not get finished in time. "
McGonagall continued, "And I need someone to teach first years how to fly a broom when school starts. And a referee for the quidditch matches." No one needed to be told why Ron could fill the last two roles. Madam Hooch's funeral had been one of the earliest.
"You come back to Hogwarts and I will work you like you were a Death Eater house elf."
Ron looked as though he had been stunned by a bludger. He quickly looked over to Hermione and Ginny. They both expressionlessly stared right back at him. He then looked at Harry and received that same expressionless look in return. He was about two breathes away from having a panic attack when Ginny reached out and touched his hand.
"This is a tough decision, brother," she said. "On one hand, you have Mum and Dad and Percy and I. We are trying to not dwell on Fred's death, and we are all trying to not give in to despair from his loss." She ignored everybody's flinch as she bluntly spoke about Fred. Ginny continued on. "And what about George? We know you are one of the props that keeps him from falling into total oblivion." "But can the other props be made stronger? And maybe we can find other props."
Ginny kept going. "So, the question becomes, what about you, slightly older brother of mine? Maybe a change for you can be a change for all of us."
It took Ron three tries before his voice would work.
"Me?" he said. "You want me to fix the quiddich pitch and then teach firsties to fly brooms? And then referee the House matches?
That is exactly what I want you to do, Mr. Weasley. I will find a way to turn your work into an Apprenticeship, and you will be paid for the broom flying lessons" McGonagall replied.
"Paid?" spluttered Ron. "As with galleons?
The stern visage of the Headmistress did not smile, although her twinkling eyes said she wanted to. "Yes. Galleons."
"I'll do it," Ron firmly stated.
"Excellent," said McGonagall. "Would you take a bit of advice, Mr. Weasley?
Warily Ron nodded.
"Get your friend Mr. Longbottom to help you with re-growing the grass on the pitch. Professor Sprout will be much too busy getting the greenhouses in shape to hold her classes in again to help you." She actually now smiled at the still shocked looking young man. "Can you think of anyone at Hogwarts who can better help you get green grass to grow in time for quiddich season?"
Ron just shook his head, not trusting his voice yet.
"Very well then, " McGonagall said wrapping up the conversation. "Can I expect to see you at the castle in three days? Remember, the so-called Eighth Years will be taking Seventh Year NEWT classes for the most part. We will be setting up a series of tests to find if some may be able to proceed into something more advanced."
"Lastly, please bring a list of improvements to any classes you can think of, and any new classes you believe the school should offer."
The last comment brought small gasps from Hermione and Ginny and all four of them swapped quick looks with each other.
"Yes, Headmistress" came from the four young people.
Dinner was a fairly quiet as everyone was wrapped in their own thoughts. After dinner Harry showed Mr. Weasley his Gringotts letter and asked for his advice. Harry was a bit surprised when Mr. Weasley said he knew very little about how an account manager worked as they had never had one. A floo call to his oldest son Bill, who worked for Gringotts, soon had the still roguish red-head stepping through the fireplace into the Burrow. After arriving he commented he wanted to thank whomever had given him an excuse to get away from Shell Cottage for a while. He strongly inferred that pregnant veela's were "just a bit moody".
Bill spent almost half an hour talking to Harry about the why he would have an account manager and how to act in the private back rooms area of the bank.
After the four teens were done trying to absorb the knowledge Bill imparted, Harry was left with a thought and a mystery. One, pulling out your wand in Gringotts would have you executed faster than you could say Quiddich. And why did Bill imply that he was surprised that Harry would be meeting with only a Potter Junior Account Manager?
Sleep came a bit easier that night, and no one was disturbed by any of the others nightmares.
Of course, in some cases, it was because they had gotten better applying silencing charms around their rooms.
A/N
First time author here.
Picked Eighth Year for Lord Harry Potter because it is done less then after 4th or 5th year.
This story as it advances will contain more clichés, standard tropes, more theft of story components and redundancies than usual. I will state right now that if I knowingly use another authors plot idea I will cheerfully credit them with the idea. If you think I have stolen someone else's words or deeds, please PM me with the Author, Story Title and Chapter. (I am NOT going to wade through a whole story looking for my possible transgression.)
Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to say if you have any reasonable comments, please review.
And help. My grammar needs work.
