LbN: Happy reading everyone!
Harry paced in front of the fireplace again. And back again. And back again. He really wished he had a Prophet to read. In the months that followed Ethan's article about the trio, the Prophet's readership had decreased dramatically. Harry felt a little bad about it, since not all of the writers were as sleazy as Ethan. On the other hand, they had let the story run in the first place so he couldn't feel too guilty. He, Ron and Hermione had given an interview to The Quibbler the week following and had pretty much called Ethan a scum bucket for calling their life to question like that. Harry still grinned whenever he remembered it. Since Luna had taken over The Quibbler, the magazine had been gaining a lot more credibility and readers. Said readers were pretty ticked off at the Prophet's audacity, questioning the Weasley-Potters' devotion to their children's well being. There had been a lot of cancellations of subscriptions, including the trio. Harry regretted this a bit now. He wanted something to take his mind off the wait, and there was nothing on the TellyWiz. The four month old was sleeping for once and everyone else was at the hospital. Ginny had gone into labor two hours ago, and Harry'd drawn the short straw for staying home with the baby. The three one-year-olds had stayed home with Fred, but they were all sick so Harry couldn't take Mordred over there.
With a sigh, Harry strolled to the door and summoned the mail. He whistled softly as the thumbed through the stack of envelopes. When he saw the last two, his breath caught. He'd applied with at least seven Quidditch teams for a coaching position at the end of last season. The Chuddley Cannons and the Cardiff Dragons had written back to him. He dumped the rest of the mail on the sofa and tore into the Cannons' letter. He'd been offered the job! He set the letter down on the table, taking deep breaths to collect himself. Opening the other letter, he found that for the first time in his life, he had a career decision to make. He'd had his pick of Quidditch teams as a player, and even though he still did, this was different. Coaching would be different. He set the Dragons' offer down next to the one from the Cannons and was about to check on Mordred when he heard someone Apparate outside.
Ron ran into the house a moment later, red-faced and grinning. "It's a boy!" he said, hugging Harry. "Ginny's wonderful, Tonks is…colorful."
"That's great! What did they name him?" Harry asked as Ron took off his cloak.
"Ares Braeden Tonks," Ron said. "Nine pounds."
"Nine?" Harry asked in alarm. "Nine? That sounds…painful!"
"Yeah, I'm sure Ginny's glad of her decision to not go the 'natural' route with this one. Oh, and Ares is colorful too."
"He's a metamorphmagus?"
"Yep. They got a picture of him before he started changing, but he sneezed half an hour ago and has been going through hair colors ever since. What's that?" Ron pointed at the two letters on the table.
"Offers," Harry said, grinning. He handed them to Ron. "The Cannons and the Dragons."
"Wow! Which are you thinking about?"
"I don't know yet. What do you think?"
"The selfish part of me is screaming 'Cannons! Cannons!'. And the other half is a bit more logical."
"What's that other half saying?" Harry asked, laughing as they sat down on the couch.
Ron leaned against him, still glancing at the letters. "The Cannons are an ancient team, and they still can't seem to pull it together. It's blind loyalty that keeps people like me with them. They've seen exactly 52 coaches. Some were lousy, some were genius, but it doesn't matter because the team is crap. You might not want to develop chronic migraines at their antics. The Dragons, on the other hand, were only founded three seasons ago. They made it to the All England Semis last season, but they don't have the discipline to take it all the way yet. I think you could work wonders there."
"The unselfish half of you really is logical," Harry said. Ron laughed. "Is it my turn to go see everyone, then?"
"Go ahead, I've got Mordred."
*
Hermione jolted awake. Her motherly alarm clock was finely tuned, and she knew she was supposed to be up for something. Slipping out of bed, she walked down the hall to the nursery. She grinned brightly when she saw inside.
The lamp in the corner was lit and Bianca was sitting in Mordred's crib. The three-year-old had climbed in with him (something she'd been told not to do anymore) and was giving him a bottle. She was also explaining all the members of their rather large extended family….
"And you have Aunt Katie and Uncle Georgie, and our cousins from them are Landon and Othello. And we have a new cousin from Aunt Ginny and Auntie Tonks. His name is Ares…."
"Bianca," Hermione said softly. She walked the rest of the way into the room as the girl waved at her. "What are you up to?"
"I heard him fuss, so I wanted to help."
"I thought I said no climbing into the crib?" Hermione reminded her.
"Sorry," Bianca said, smiling and not sounding sorry at all.
"How'd you reach his bottle?" Hermione asked, sitting down in the rocker.
"It jumped down at me!"
"What?"
"I stretched to try and get it and," she took a deep breath, "and it jumped out of the basket and onto the floor." She gave her mom a confused look as Hermione squeaked and hugged her.
"Are you sure it jumped?" Hermione asked excitedly. "You didn't jump and reach it?" Already Hermione knew that couldn't have been the case. The bottles were all the way at the back of the dresser, so even if Bianca had stood on something she wouldn't have been able to reach it.
"Yes, Mommy. It jumped like a kan-aroo!"
Hermione's scientific nature took control of her parental excitement. She grabbed an empty bottle and made a wide arch from the dresser to the floor. "Like that?"
Bianca nodded turned back to her brother, who had drained the last of the formula. She reached out as if to pick him up, but Hermione stopped her.
"I'll burp him. Go tell your dads you did magic," Hermione said with a grin.
"I did magic?" Bianca whispered.
"I think so. Go tell them."
"The sun's not awake! You're just up 'cause of Mordred."
"True," Hermione said as the baby in question let out a small burp. "I'll go with you."
The three of them walked into the master bedroom and Bianca ran over to Harry's side of the bed. Poking him in the nose, Bianca said, "Daddy? Daddy I did magic!"
"No, I don't want lemon tarts…" Harry mumbled, rolling back over.
"I did magic!" Bianca repeated.
Slowly, Harry opened his eyes. Hermione counted "One potato, two potato," in her head and Harry, as she'd known he would, shot up in bed.
"You did?" he yelped. "How old are you?"
"Three, Daddy! You know that!"
"Course, I was just checking," Harry said, shaking Ron.
The redhead woke with a snort. "Wassumatter?"
"Bianca did magic!" Harry told him. "And since Hermione's here letting her wake us up at…4:30 in the morning, I'm assuming she did it for real?"
"She said one of Mordred's bottles jumped down to her," Hermione said. "And there's no way she could've gotten it herself. I'm going to put Mordred back; he's asleep again."
"It looks like someone else is almost there as well," Ron said as Bianca yawned. "Back to bed with you, Little B."
Nodding, Bianca shuffled down the hall to her room.
"She's only three!" Harry whispered. "Is that normal? That young?"
"Well, lots of kids display a little magic early. Fred used to levitate stuff when he sneezed, according to Dad. Around seven is when the magic should start…er…shooting off seriously. Bianca might not show any more until then. Or she might keep showing little sings of magic like this off and on. We'll just have to wait and see."
"We'll see," Harry said, yawning.
LbN: Reviews pleeeeaaase! Oh, and a new poll's up! Peace out, friends!