A/N: VERY short chapter, apologies for that, normal service will be resumed shortly.
Chapter 26 - I Promise
The celebrations went on for hours. The timing of the match meant the fans all spilled out of the stadium and immediately went for a celebratory lunch – Fleur led her party to one of the village inns which she apparently knew well, and they enjoyed a glorious meal, surrounded by happy, raucous Quidditch fans, who would occasionally break into bouts of song – in French.
Finally, though, the time came to leave. The Weasleys had arranged to leave by Portkey in mid-afternoon, and thus, as the French fans filled the village, they were to be found on a small hillock a couple of miles away, clutching a crumpled beer can which glowed an eerie blue colour.
As Mr Weasley checked his watch for the fifth time, Harry felt slightly sad. It wasn't just the World Cup that had made him love the last few days – it was the chance to be in another country with the people he loved most, and to completely forget the various troubles he had back home. Still, reality had to intervene at some point, and there were good things to be going back to as well as bad. Nonetheless, his mind seemed to be forgetting that, and was fixing on George, or Luna and her father, or the troubles Kingsley and his three remaining Aurors were facing.
"Ah, here we go!" Mr Weasley mused cheerfully, interrupting Harry's mental wanderings. He looked down at the battered can, which was glowing more and more fervently, until the familiar hook buried itself behind his navel, tugged, and sent him hurtling across the English Channel.
A few minutes later, they arrived with a jolt on Stoatshead Hill. Harry stayed on his feet for a few seconds, but was brought crashing to the ground as Ginny lost her balance, grabbed his arm, and pulled him down with her.
Once everyone had regained their balance, they grouped behind Mr Weasley, who was looking out in the vague direction of the Burrow. He, like everyone else present, seemed thoroughly unimpressed by the prospect of hiking home.
"I suppose..." he mused, "There will be Muggles about. In the interests of subtlety... yes, I think we should. Pair up, everyone!"
Everyone knew what that meant, and everyone was grateful for it. Harry took Ginny's arm in his, as Bill and Fleur, Percy and Audrey and Ron and Hermione all did the same. Mr Weasley looked at Charlie, and nodded his head in the universal signal for "go on". With a subtle pop, Charlie disappeared. Another nod, this time to Bill, and he and Fleur were gone. Percy followed, soon joined by Ron, with their respective girlfriends in tow. Finally, Mr Weasley nodded to Harry, he whirled on the spot, and he and Ginny were standing in the front yard of the Burrow.
Mr Weasley had barely popped into focus next to them when the front door burst open, and Mrs Weasley came running out, beaming. For a moment, she seemed uncertain as to who she should hug first, before systemically pulling everyone into a rib-crushing embrace, two by two. When she finally reached Harry and Ginny, Harry couldn't help noticing the same sad glint in her eyes he had seen when she volunteered to stay behind – evidently, he assumed, George had yet to come home.
As Mrs Weasley rounded happily on her husband, her children and their various guests trotted indoors, dumping their belongings in bedrooms or the kitchen, and assembled once more in the familiar sitting room. It was a while before anyone noticed the serene figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was pacing in from the garden, resplendent in his usual purple robes. His figure disappeared through the door to the kitchen, and a minute later he stepped into the sitting room with Mr and Mrs Weasley.
"Good holiday?" he said, smiling benignly.
"Very," Ron sighed, speaking for everyone as he sagged down into an armchair. Bill rolled his eyes, but seemed to agree, even if he would have put it a bit more eloquently.
"You all deserve a little time to yourselves," Kingsley mused, then continued, "but I do need to speak to Arthur about his position at the Ministry."
Everyone stared at Arthur, who looked slightly startled.
"Me?" he said, weakly.
"Yes, you, Arthur," the ex-Auror said, patiently. "In the wake of all the Ministry's troubles, certain neglected positions have become open... In particular, it seems the Muggle Liaison Office needs a new head..."
Arthur had gone bug-eyed, and Kingsley's smile grew, as did everyone else's.
"Y-you mean?" Arthur stammered, and Kingsley merely nodded. Mr Weasley collapsed into the nearest seat. Kingsley, however, didn't seem to be finished.
"The arrest of Dolores Umbridge also leaves the position of Senior Undersecretary open... Arthur, as a department head, can you think of anyone who might fit the role?"
Kingsley continued to smile kindly at Mr Weasley, whose eyes lit up, as if this bit at least had been planned. Slowly, both men turned to look at Percy, who went bright red.
"Me?" he murmured.
"Like father like son..." Molly muttered, shaking her head.
After giving Percy the same speech of confirmation as his father, Kingsley made to leave, but Harry shot a quick glance at Ron, and they rose in unison, catching up to him in the kitchen before he could make it outside. As Harry shut the door behind them, Kingsley turned, still smiling his benign smile, and giving off the unerring impression of knowing exactly why they were there.
"What have we missed?" Harry said. Kingsley simply nodded to the door, and the three men stepped out into the front yard, once more shutting the door behind themselves to keep the conversation from drifting to Mrs Weasley's ears.
"Truthfully?" Kingsley asked.
"Of course. No smiles or lies."
Kingsley sighed, as one would when dropping a persona, although he still sounded serene and calm.
"We're managing, but that's the best I can say. On the one hand, we're making good progress with the Death Eater trials, on the other, we're struggling with attacks..."
"Attacks?" Ron said, sounding worried.
"Nothing on Dolohov's scale, but even so... a wizard and a witch were killed in Godric's Hollow, and the Muggle police have reported another three "unexplained" deaths in London – no marks, no cause of death, we think they were killed by curses."
"You think the Death Eaters were behind it?" Harry muttered, his heart sinking slightly.
"They're unconnected," Kingsley shrugged, "but we have to presume so, just in case..."
Finally, Harry voiced something he had been thinking for the last week, and he suspected Ron had been too.
"We'll start early, at the Auror Office. You need all the help you can get."
"Harry, you shouldn't be so keen to leave your childhood behind. Enjoy it while you can."
"Why should I?" Harry replied, a little louder than he'd intended. He was growing increasingly frustrated by being made to wait. "I've spent most of my childhood avoiding madmen who wanted to kill me! Why break the habit of a lifetime?"
Ron was staring at Harry in amazement, and Kingsley was wearing a rare mask of surprise.
"Harry, mate-" Ron began, but Harry cut him off.
"I want to help! I don't want to be sat around here like a bored little kid while people are dying... again!"
There was another awkward silence, before Kingsley, who was shaking his head pityingly, spoke up at last.
"The life on an Auror is not suited to family, or to love, Harry. Moody and Tonks would both pay testament to that if they could, as would I. You are a remarkable young man, but you have been missing these things for the vast majority of your years. Enjoy them now, before they are lost again."
There was something so grave in Kingsley's tone that Harry was stunned speechless, as was Ron – before Harry could continue with his protests, Kingsley had Disapparated. Reluctantly, he followed Ron back inside, where the rest of the Weasleys were toasting Arthur and Percy. Everyone knew better than to pry, in public at least, so they simply handed glasses to Harry and Ron, held their toast, and drank.
"So, what did Kingsley have to say?"
Ron sighed. The question had been inevitable, really. He was lying by the stream that ran near to the Burrow, looking up into the starry sky. Hermione was curled up at his side, her head on his chest as if listening to his ever-persisting heartbeat.
"Just what we expected. A few more killings. A few Death Eaters still on the loose. He still wouldn't let us go back early, though, kept insisting we should take the rest of the summer off."
"I'm glad," she purred, draping an arm over his chest, as he wrapped his own hands around her, holding her close. "I'm not sure I like the idea of you running off to hunt down Death Eaters."
"You sound like my mother," Ron muttered. "We spent the last year fighting them; you didn't have a problem with it then."
"We didn't have a choice. But actually seeking them out, looking for a fight... what if you get hurt, Ron?"
Ron was silent. He couldn't answer that. He didn't want to answer that.
"I won't," he said, finally.
"Promise?" Hermione replied, sounding for all the world like a little girl again, all full of naivety, innocence and hope, as he looked down at her.
"I promise..."