Weasley Wizarding Weezes
At the end of Harry's first day he was mentally exhausted but anxious to move forward. Despite Goldberg's negativity and lurking manor, he was pleased with his fellow trainees and more than happy with his instructor who seemed ready to teach them everything she knew. Leaving the offices at the end of the day, he passed a glance at the room marked 'Evidence' and decided to push the memory from his mind. There was nothing he could do about it— he should've never seen it in the first place. Perhaps someday, when his training was complete and he had access to all the files and evidence, he would have reason to check into it further. For the time being, it wouldn't do him any good to wonder, and there was no one left to ask.
"Harry!" Hermione bounded up from a lift she had just vacated, spotting him across the atrium where he waited for her beside the newly re-designed fountain. The statues that now stood on the plinth above the pool of water showed a proud-faced wizard hand-in-hand with a witch on equal level with a house elf, a goblin, and a bold-looking centaur, all with their heads uplifted in a dignified manner. Harry turned from examining the statues as Hermione ran up, face aglow with excitement.
"How was it? What did they teach you? Oh, I learned so much and it's just the first day! There are so many magical creatures, each with their own set of laws and restrictions on proper care and how to maintain them. I can't believe I never knew there was such thing as a Mortle-rat—"
"A what?" Harry laughed as they made their way through the emptying atrium to the disapparation area.
"A Mortle-rat, Harry, they're such interesting creatures. Tiny little furry animals that live underground and can swim with amazing swiftness. They showed several they had confiscated from someone trying to do an illegal trade out of the country. Apparently they are an endangered species and are highly valuable for their organs' usefulness in potion making…" They stopped and turned on the spot, disapparating and reappearing in Diagon Alley a few paces down from George's shop. The sun was going down behind Gringotts and the lights of the shop windows were lit with a warm, welcoming glow. A few last-minute shoppers moved about on the cobblestone streets and the sound of laughter drifted from the open door of the ice cream parlor.
Hermione continued to yammer on about Mortle-rats and other obscure creatures before heading off to meet Ron. Harry stopped, letting her get ahead. "Harry?" she turned when she notice he wasn't with her.
"I'll be right there," he told her to go on without him. Crossing the street he stopped outside the open door of Ollivander's, the soft light of dozens of candles cascading out onto the stoop. "Luna," Harry smiled as his old friend turned from fastening a notice to the window outside the shop.
"Hello, Harry Potter," Luna greeted him in her dreamy way, reaching out and giving him a small hug.
"What are you doing here?"
"Working," she nodded back toward the wand-maker's shop. "I'm Ollivander's apprentice now."
"And a damn fine one too." The aging wand-maker himself stepped into the doorway, smiling down on Harry with twinkling eyes.
"Ollivander," Harry returned the greeting, pumping the gnarled old hand. "How are you?"
"Fine, Mr. Potter, just fine," he assured him. "I have heard a rumor that you are becoming an Auror."
"Trying to," Harry nodded.
"Naturally," the old man bowed. "Miss Lovegood, I will lock up now if you please, and will see you bright and early in the morning."
"Yes, Mr. Ollivander." She stepped down the shop's steps as he softly closed the door with a click, locking it for the night. "What brings you here at this time of day, Harry?" Luna turned and walked with him up the street toward Weasley Wizard Weezes.
"Dinner, at George Weasley's," he pointed. "You should join us. Ron and Hermione are here too."
"Oh, I'd love to, but Daddy's waiting for me at home. We're having an important correspondent from Transylvania around for dinner and I need to get back to make the newberry pudding."
"Oh, right. Another time then?"
She nodded, blinking her bright wide eyes under the light of George's shop. "How's Ginny?" she asked watching the whirling and swirling of the fantastic displays. "I miss her; she was always so nice to me."
"She's good," Harry turned and watched the window as well, not really seeing the joke gadgets and toys. "Busy training for the upcoming season."
"For the Holyhead Harpies? Yes, she said she had joined up with them." Luna looked back at him. "I suppose someone has to."
"Right," Harry wasn't sure what she meant by that.
"Well, good to see you, Harry." She put a hand on his, squeezing it in a departing gesture with a warm smile.
"Take care, Luna."
She walked away, disappearing just beyond the shadows of Eyelop's Owl Emporium. Harry watched until she was gone before stepping inside the empty shop, finding George behind the counter jotting figures in a large open book before him.
"Oh, hi, Harry," he looked up briefly. "The lot's upstairs. Go on up, I'll just be a second. Angelina's cooking tonight, so be prepared," his gaze drifted to the ceiling with a meaningful look. "How did the first day go, then?"
"Good," Harry crossed the room, absent-mindedly touching a spinning object which seemed to serve no purpose other than to shriek and cause disturbance. "It went really well."
"Excellent. Oh, here." George waved his wand around the shop and instantly all was still and quiet. Dimming the lights, he walked around the counter to lock up. Harry walked ahead through the back room to a twisted, slanting staircase winding up to the top floor and George's living quarters. At the top he noticed two Dragon-skin jackets on hooks right outside the door hanging with a stiff look of disuse. A light emitted from under the crack in the door and, when Harry opened it, he stepped into a warm spacious flat with sparse furnishing, unnaturally tidy for its occupant. Angelina greeted him from the kitchen looking flushed in the steam emitting from the stove and a grouping of boiling pots and pans. He found Ron and Hermione in the adjoining room seated comfortably on the sofa, Hermione giving animated details of her first day on the job.
"Harry," Ron looked grateful for his arrival motioning for him to take a seat and change the subject. "Tell me about it, mate. Did you fight off any vampires or track down any wanted wizards?"
"Not exactly." Harry told them about his morning of signing forms and Ms. Dale's tour. Ron made a face.
"That's it? They do know what you've done, don't they? You're kind-of past that."
"It was the first day," Harry countered. "We'll get to vampires soon enough, I expect."
"How many do you have in your class?" Hermione asked. "There were four other trainees besides myself, five total—"
"Yeah five total, we heard," Ron interrupted, receiving a scathing look from Hermione before he turned back to Harry. "But did you learn any new spells or anything?"
"Nope," Harry shook his head. "We had three," he answered Hermione's question. "Some bloke from America and Diana Wescott."
"An American?"
"Diana Wescott?" both Ron and Hermione spoke at once.
"Yeah, do you know her?" Harry addressed Hermione first.
"Of course, she was a Ravenclaw prefect. Don't you remember her?"
Harry shook his head having a hard time believing that the Diana Wescott he met had ever been awarded a prefect badge.
"Who was the American?" Ron interrupted.
"Canadian-American," Harry pointed out cynically. "A real swell guy to be around too, I assure you. Says he wanted a change of scenery so he came over here and joined up."
Ron looked confused. "Can he do that?"
"Of course he can," Hermione rolled her eyes. "There's nothing that says you have to only work for your own Ministry. There's transfers all the time. On my training staff we have a trainee who's from India. She's really nice—"
"So he's a real prat, is he?" Ron asked Harry who shared all his feelings about the pompous Mr. Goldberg. George joined them from downstairs and wanted a re-telling of the day's events while he and Angelina set the table, calling everyone over to share the meal. Popping open a bottle of elf-made wine, he poured a round for them all and sniffed curiously at the steaming food before his plate when Angelina's back was turned. Shrugging, he nodded for the other's to dish up at their own risk.
"Did Ron tell you the news?" he sat at his place at the front of the table.
"What news?" Harry asked over a sip of wine. George gave his brother a look of disbelief.
"What?" Ron defended himself with a mouth full of pasta. "I forgot."
"We got an owl from Mum this afternoon, Fleur had the baby."
"What!" Hermione shrieked, nearly dropping her wine glass. "But she wasn't due for another two weeks!"
"The kid has ambition," George shrugged. "Can't blame it really, for wanting to escape a little early." Harry and Ron laughed into their dinner plates.
"Well," Hermione overly excited. "What was it? Girl or boy? What did they name it?"
"Girl," Angelina set butter on the table and took a seat. "Victoire."
"That's so sweet, and to think we just saw her the other day still pregnant and walking around the house."
"Storming more like," George interjected. "Oh it iz so hot, look at my 'orrible troll feet, don't look zat me Bill, I'm an elephant!"
"Stop it," Angelina scolded behind a suppressed laugh.
"I feel for the kid." Ron shook his head. "A part veela for a mum, a half werewolf for a dad; she'll be luring all the boys at Hogwarts to candle-lit dinners of raw meat."
"You two are so mean," Hermione fought back a smile. "She's probably the sweetest, most beautiful baby in the world."
"Hear, hear," George banged the table with his fork.
"To Bill and Fleur," Harry raised his glass.
"To Victoire," Everyone followed suit, toasting the happy little family by the sea.
"Speaking of babies," Angelina put down her wine. "How's Teddy, Harry?"
"Last I heard he was doing well," he replied. "I got a letter from Andromeda maybe a week ago. She sent a picture of him riding his birthday present. Just from the photo I can tell he inherited his mother's gracefulness." he commented to appreciative chuckles. "I'm going for a visit next weekend." Harry thought of the bright-eyed little miniature Tonks and Lupin riding around on a toy broom that Harry had bought him for his birthday, carrying on the tradition of Quidditch playing godfathers. At least that's what he'd thought when he'd purchased it.
"Enough about babies," George interjected. "I've seen enough of bratty kids for one day."
"Those bratty kids pay for your livelihood," Angelina argued.
"Their parents pay for my livelihood, and it wouldn't hurt them to leave the dirty-pawed mongrels at home once in a while. Hogwarts age I can deal with. It's these slick-fingered toddlers coming and sucking on my trick wands that gets me."
They sat around the table long after the food was gone, talking and laughing, reminiscing about old Quidditch matches and their days at Hogwarts. Harry filled them in on his plans to work for Professor McGonagall teaching Quidditch that year to many cheers of approval.
"What happened to Madame Hooch?" Angelina asked.
"Retired, moved to the south of France."
"Wow, Harry, this is brilliant!" Ron grinned. "Who better to teach those midgets how to fly than you?"
"You could teach them a few other things too," George suggested. "Like how to catch a snitch with your mouth…"
"Or ward off dementors mid-dive…"
"Or how not to break your arm with a flying bludger."
"I could teach you lot to shut up for starters, that would help."
It was late when George kicked them out, sending them out into the street to wind their way home under the glow of the street lamps. Harry and Ron went out of their way to walk Hermione to her flat before heading back themselves. It was another late night, but Harry wasn't tired. Happy with his first day at the Ministry, an enjoyable evening with friends, and spurred on by the wine, he couldn't settle down to sleep right away. Who needed sleep? Besides, he had a letter to write to Ginny.
Back at the flat on Diagon Alley, Angelina stood at the sink washing up the night's dishes, elbow deep in suds. George brought her the last of the wine glasses, setting them down on the counter. "You know it would take two seconds if you let me do that myself," he motioned with his wand.
"I know," she smiled. "But I like to do them, it's relaxing."
George looked incredulous but shrugged, leaving her to it. "At least let me dry and put them away properly." He magically dried and stacked the plates, tucking them away in the cupboard and moving on to the cutlery. "Thanks for cooking dinner, it was excellent."
"Really?" she looked doubtful.
"Yeah," George tried to look sincere. "You're definitely improving."
"Whatever, you dolt," Angelina wasn't buying it, draining the dirty dishwater as George dried the last glass and sent it flying to its place on the shelf beside the others. Stepping out of the kitchen, she reached for her things to call it a night.
"Leaving already?" George followed. "There's still more wine," he picked up the nearly depleted bottle off the table. "At least help me finish it."
"That's the last thing I need more of," she laughed, back-stepping toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. "I'll see you later, George."
"Tomorrow?" he leaned against the table with the bottle loose in his hand, watching her.
"Maybe…" Angelina remained where she was, the distance between them gaping and obvious, as if something was missing that should have filled the space. "Goodnight."
" 'Night." The door closed behind her, and as she passed down the stairs, her hand brushed the sleeve of Fred's jacket, hanging just as he had left it.
Weekend Visit
Harry was exhausted. He knew it wasn't supposed to be easy, but this was mind-numbing. Hour after hour in that tiny, enclosed training room memorizing procedures and protocol until he thought his head would cave under the pressure. Ms. Dale had gotten them out of their seats for a short time that morning for a physical exercise in practical defensive spells, but for the rest of the day she had drilled them endlessly on everything they had learned in the past two weeks.
Ms. Dale raised the lights, having shown them several slides on the board and Harry blinked his tired eyes, stretching his stiff limbs. All the information was incredibly important, and actually quite interesting, but there was so much to consume in such a small time. Harry wasn't sure if he could keep it all straight.
"Brutal," Diane groaned, standing when Ms. Dale released them for the day. "Thank goodness it's Friday, I could use a few days off."
"Same here." Harry grabbed his stack of notes off his desk and stashed them in his satchel. "Maybe a few weeks."
"You didn't find it all enlightening?" Goldberg asked from his table, still scratching his parchment with his quill.
"Illuminating," Harry replied, catching Diana's eye.
Goldberg glanced up stoic-faced, missing the sarcasm. "I particularly found the theory on tracking and detecting werewolves interesting." His eyes fell on Harry and he returned the stare, unblinking. Just how much did this American know? Had he kept a running tab on all of Harry's old acquaintances and adventures? An avid reader of Rita Skeeter, no doubt, if indeed her articles traveled as far as the west side of the ocean.
"Didn't we all," Diana said in a bored voice. "Well, have an enlightening weekend, Goldberg." She moved off toward the door and Harry followed, his mind unwillingly returning to the dusty memory tucked away down the hall. "Forget him," Diana misread Harry's thoughts. "He's an idiot. Hey, how about going for a drink, start the weekend off right?"
Harry returned from his reverie looking at her in mild surprise. "Oh, ah—"
"Harry!"
He turned with a beating heart, startled by the sound of a familiar voice at the door. "Ginny? What…what are you doing here? I thought I was going to meet you at the train?"
"I came early," she beamed at him, reaching for a fierce hug. "Orders of Coach Tisdale, he knew I was coming to London and needed me to deliver something to the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Since I was here, I figured I'd surprise you," she glanced around the room, taking it all in. "Is this where you're training?" Her gaze landed on Diana. "Diana Wescott? I didn't know you were becoming an Auror, how are you?"
"Great, Ginny, how are you? How's Quidditch?" Her smile seemed less than genuine, and Harry shifted uncomfortably, hitching on a smile of his own for Ginny.
"It's good; a lot of work, but it's been a blast. Have they been training you hard? Harry's told me a little in his letters, but he never mentioned you, Diana. It makes sense though, you becoming an Auror, you were always the adventurous one at school."
Diana laughed, eyes meeting with Harry's briefly. "What has Luna been telling you? Not much truth I suppose. But yeah, I've always wanted to be an Auror ever since my grandmother was one."
"That's great," Ginny responded. "Well, shall we, Harry?"
"Yeah, bye." He waved to Diana on his way out the door.
"See you Monday, Potter."
"Well, well." Ginny gave him a humorous look as they stepped into the lift. "Diana Wescott, Miss Ravenclaw herself."
"What?" Harry furrowed his brow quizzically.
"Nothing," Ginny tossed back her hair carelessly. "She's very nice."
"Yeah…"
"Very pretty."
"Yeah…no." Harry looked flustered until she laughed.
"I'm just messing with you, relax." She leaned in and kissed him in the empty lift. "She'll make a beautiful Auror to be sure," she teased.
"Not as beautiful as you."
"Yeah, except I play Quidditch."
"A beautiful Quidditch player."
"Damn straight."
They all met for dinner at the Leaky Cauldron, George and Angelina, Ron and Hermione, and even Luna came at Ginny's request when Harry took her down to see her at Ollivander's. They laughed and talked over Tom's finest roast and potatoes as the occupants of the Inn moved about the tables and drank pints of meade in front of the roaring fire. Ginny regaled them with stories from the Quidditch pitch about her practices that went on for endless hours in the autumn rains under the direction of her battle-ax coach with a relentless work regime.
"You'd think with a coach like that the Harpies would have a better record," Ron commented.
"Thanks, Ron." Ginny gave him a piercing look.
"Well they've never had you play for them before have they?" he added. "Things could change."
"Let's hope so," she accepted the apology of sorts, Harry squeezing her hand under the table in reassurance.
"Mum and Dad coming down tomorrow?" George asked.
"Yeah, they're dropping by our place for dinner," Ron affirmed. "And you better show, or Mum'll have a fit."
"Who's cooking?"
"Me," Ginny piped in. "And Hermione."
"Well, that's okay then." George accepted the invitation, winking at Angelina.
"You're to come too, Angelina, and you, Luna, if you can make it."
Luna looked up from her plate not having heard a word of their conversation, smiling vaguely at her with a distracted expression.
"How many people are coming?" Ron looked taken back. "Where're they all going to fit do you think?"
"In the sitting room, Ronald, where else?" Hermione shook her head like it was obvious.
Walking Ginny and Hermione back to her flat later, the four of them took their time in the quiet deserted streets. Hand-in-hand, the two couples walked one in front of the other, speaking in low tones and watching sporadic traffic move by on the cross streets.
"Since when did George start seeing Angelina?" Ginny asked as they rounded the corner on Hermione's street. Harry thought about this.
"I didn't know they were," he really hadn't noticed.
"Oh, please," Ginny snorted in disbelief. "Ron?"
"How should I know?" he asked over his shoulder.
"You work with him every day, how could you not?"
"Well, I didn't exactly ask."
"You shouldn't have to," Hermione said. "It's so obvious. They've been together for about a week, officially that is," she answered Ginny's question.
"How do you know?"
"I have eyes, Ronald." They a walked ahead to the door of the flat, leaving Harry and Ginny behind.
"Is that a problem?" Harry caught her look of concern.
"No," she frowned. "I mean, it's a bit odd don't you think?"
Harry hadn't thought about it all. He had just received the notification, how could he have had time to even consider it odd or otherwise? "What do you mean?"
"Well…it's just, she was Fred's girlfriend."
"Yeah."
"You don't think that's a little strange?" Ginny made a face and Harry stopped walking, looking at her blankly, trying to catch up. "Harry, George isn't Fred."
Another good point, but not any less confusing.
"I just hope Angelina realizes that." She looked away down the street with a continued look of concern.
"I'm sure she does," Harry assured her, finally getting her meaning. "I mean, they both miss him, a lot. Maybe it's good that they have each other."
"I hope so." Returning her attention to him, Ginny pushed her worries from her mind for the moment to tell him goodnight. "I'll see you in the morning?"
Harry pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist and looked down on her face lit up with the warm glow of the late-night café up the street. They kissed softly, holding it a long, lingering moment before pulling away. "Goodnight." She squeezed his hand, stepping back towards the entrance to the flat tucked back in the alcove. "Oi, Ron!" Harry called out. "Quit snogging and let's go."
Ron appeared from the shadows, waved to Hermione, and bid Ginny a goodnight as she passed him with a teasing grin. "I wasn't the only one, mate."