1st September

It was the first day of the new term, one of the most worrying ones in the year for Molly Weasley, and she was hurriedly dressing. The start of term owl had arrived late – Errol, the family owl, had concussed himself on a low-flying aircraft on the way, and so she had only heard about the changes to the schedule the day before.

Dear Parents,

Due to the fact that the Hogwarts Express has been renovated to render it more efficient for anti-pollution reasons, the journey has been cut down by two hours. Therefore this term we request students to be at Platform 9¾ no later than 1pm. This will give them time to partake of an early lunch at home, although the refreshments trolley will be available as usual. I hope this will ease arrangements.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

"Ease arrangements indeed!" harrumphed Mrs Weasley indignantly. "Providing lunch for this rabble too, before I even attempt to take them to the station! Oh, for the love of Merlin – what now?" She rushed over to her window to behold Fred and George, still wearing the jeans and jackets they had left the house in the previous night, attempting to sneak in through the back door, trying to silence the flock of Weasley poultry chasing them, which was crowing and clucking as best it knew how.

"Right!" Mrs Weasley, still in her faded flowered house robes and slippers, cannoned down the stairs, not even apologising to a bemused Ginny, who had been sent flying. "Get – in – here – right – now!" she bellowed out of the window, whilst muttering "Alohomora," at the back door, which opened with such force it popped off its rusty hinges and hit George, who entered after his twin, massaging his forehead.

"Here!" snapped his mother, throwing him a bag of frozen peas and a tea towel, before hitting the pair with a barrage of furious words. "What do you think you are doing coming in at this hour?"

"We went out in Knightwist Alley, you know, behind Diagon –" began Fred.

"I am perfectly aware of where Knightwist Alley is, Fred," interjected Mrs Weasley, smoothly. Behind her, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny, dressed in as much of their school uniform as could pass off as Muggle, moved silently down the stairs, watching avidly. "The question is not where you were."

"Um, well, some of the old Hogwarts people, well, you know, we left early. Well they wanted us to show them around Knightwist," said George. Knightwist Alley was full of wizarding bars and clubs, and could only be entered once a person was eighteen years old, and had left school. A magical entrance point monitored this. The twins had been going there since they had left Hogwarts the previous Easter, but their friends who had only left this summer, were new to it all.

"That is not the point. The point is the agreement that your father and I made with you. You can stay living here, until you can afford a flat in Diagon Alley, if you abide by the same rules as everyone else has. In by twelve. Not when you feel like it the next – bloody – morning!" Mrs Weasley swelled visibly.

"Yes, Mum."

"Sorry, Mum." The twins looked about fourteen as they apologised, and their mother relented.

"Fine," she said, nodding. "Up you go, get washed and changed. I'm making breakfast if you want it." By the doorway Fred stopped and turned back.

"Mum?" he called her back. "Why couldn't we Apparate back into our bedroom? We tried, but it didn't work."

"This house is on the Closed Apparition Circuit. You can Apparate between rooms, but if you want to go far, you need to go outside into the yard," said Mrs Weasley, amused.

"Cheers, mum," said George, frozen peas still clutched to his forehead.

The other four trooped into the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was now hurriedly tossing bacon into a pan.

"Can we help?" asked Hermione. She looked radiant this morning, with her hair tied up in a messy knot, wearing her school grey skirt with higher heels than normal, and her loose grey jumper with Gryffindor piping without a shirt underneath.

"No, dear, I've got it all under control," replied Mrs Weasley, waving her wand at a drawer so a heap of cutlery flew dangerously across the kitchen and started laying itself on the table.

Someone else was looking radiant that morning too, as they all tucked into bacon and eggs. That person was occasionally sharing secretive glances with Hermione, and was smiling inwardly all the while. Ron Weasley was, for the first time in his life, overwhelmingly happy. Someone had picked him first, over all the others, including Harry, who always beat him at everything. Even as a young child, someone would have always picked the amusing, boisterous, noticeable twins over him, or clever Percy, or sporty Charlie, or Bill, who was all of these things, as well as, as far as Ron could see, being devastatingly attractive to women. But Hermione had chosen him! But, it was becoming increasingly clear to him, in the stark, unromantic light of day, that he would have to tell Harry, and he had no idea in the world how to go about this.

"Ron! Fred! Go out and feed the chickens, will you?"

"Why not George?" Ron moaned, getting up resignedly.

"His head, dear. Off you go!" The pair left. As he and his brother filled a bucket with grain, Ron decided to confide in his brother.

"Hey, Fred, can I tell you something?"

"Sure, little bro, fire away!" said Fred, laughingly.

"It's about Hermione," started Ron, uneasily.

"Whoa, yeah, that's a nice piece of goods, these days! I must say, if I wasn't tied to darling Angelina –"

"Still?" asked Ron.

"Yep. It's been eight months now. Anyway, you were saying?" Ron related a summary of the entire story to his brother, who listened closely, with an uncharacteristically serious expression on his freckled face.

"What did you do with her? You sleep with her?"

"No!" said Ron, scandalised. "Just, well. Y'know."

"And you don't know what to do about Harry?" asked Fred, not pressing his point.

"Exactly. He said he'd always been in love with her, or some crap like that," said Ron, shrugging.

"You got to be honest with him," decided Fred, wisely. "After all, he gave you that challenge, and you made the mark. Don't say that, obviously. And she's a clever chick – she'll talk to him today, I'll bet. Say that you hooked up with her, you don't even know where it's going to go, you're sorry if you've stepped on his toes, but the three of you will talk it out. Okay?"

"Cheers, Fred," breathed Ron in relief, as they walked back to the house.

Ron told Harry when they had gone up to their room to pack. Harry's reaction was not as big as he had dreaded.

"Right. Yeah, I thought something might be up. I talked to Hermione and told her how I felt, but she was really aloof, talking about someone else. I thought it was George, though, not you."
"George! What do you mean?" asked Ron, confused.

"Oh, I dunno, something he mentioned. It was obviously just a coincidence."

"Oh," said Ron, plumping himself down on the bed.

Mrs Weasley had in fact overheard the end of Ron and Fred's conversation, when she had been magically expelling some peelings out of the kitchen window for compost. She was now in a three-way dilemma. She had never really trusted or liked that Hermione Granger, but every time she had openly not done so, she had been proven dramatically wrong. But now that girl was spreading discord between Ron and Harry. She loved Ron dearly as her son, but she also felt maternal towards Harry, particularly since she was now his legal guardian, after Sirius' demise. She was also shocked by the implication that Ron might have "done" anything with anybody, although she admitted, such was life.

She remembered how she and Arthur had tripped down secretly after hours to the Quidditch changing rooms... He had been captain of the Gryffindor team in his last two years, a Keeper, and consequently had the key to the room. And they had first "done" it in sixth year, she realised, although, obviously, they had been much more mature than ickle Ronnie. What should she do? In the end, Molly decided to remain silent and impartial, but she could not help a certain frosty glare as she waved Hermione and the others goodbye at King's Cross.

Meanwhile, Harry, already crushed by Ron's blow, was now in a position to completely annihilate Ron emotionally, but did not really want to. All right, Ron had won the fight for the beautiful girl, but honestly, with what he knew, she was not really so desirable. As he sat alone with Ginny (the others were getting orders in the Prefects' Carriage), he wondered whether to tell Ron what he knew.