This is a re-write of the scene in the beginning of the first Hobbit movie/book where Bilbo first meets the Dwarves. Note: This is not the same Harry as in Chapter 1.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

Harry Potter in Classic Movie Moments

The Burrow: There and Back

12 Grimmauld Place, in the village of Staddle at the edges of the town of Bree in Eriador, Middle-Earth. Harry Potter was just about to make himself some tea for his breakfast when there was a politely executed ring on the front-door bell. "Who on Middle-Earth can that be?" he asked himself as he padded to the entry hall. "Luna should still be far away in Anfalas, searching for the mythical Oliphaunts with his dad, and Neville's busy with his granny's garden party preparations," he pondered and opened the door.

"Arthur Weasley," said a tall, middle-aged man with balding, red hair, bowing courteously.

"Molly Weasley," said a short, plump woman, bowing as well.

"At your service," they said at the same time.

"Harry Potter, at your service," Harry said as he returned the bow because that was the way manners and etiquette went in Bree, and Harry, if anyone, was a man of good manners.

"Wonderful!" the man exclaimed, clapping his hands together with excitement. "Let's get started then."

They pushed Harry aside in the friendliest, yet quite effective, possible way, and entered the hall. "Yes, nice. Very nice," Arthur said, regarding Harry's house. "Now, if you'd just be so kind and show Molly a way to the pantry."

"Don't bother, dear. Already found it," Molly's voice echoed from half-way through the kitchen already.

Harry finally got his mouth open. "Listen now, I'm sorry…"

Arthur interrupted him as he draped an arm over his shoulder and began to steer him towards the parlour. "No need to apologize. Molly has it covered," he said in a jovial manner.

Arthur sat down into Harry's favourite armchair and pulled a pipe from his pocket, beginning to fill it with pipe-weed. "Why don't you join me while we wait?" he asked when he saw Harry staring. "It's Old Toby. A fine blend, indeed."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it again, but couldn't find the words to say. He regarded what his godfather had taught him. Whenever you're confused, or angry, or afraid… "Tea," he blurted, and turned towards kitchen. "I must have tea."

"An excellent idea, my boy," Arthur exclaimed, puffing out a smoke ring. "Just a drop if milk, and no sugar for me, thank you."

Harry stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes, took a calming breath, and then left to put the kettle on. A few minutes later, he returned with a steaming kettle which he placed onto a side table. He poured hot water upon tealeaves in a teapot, and then opened a cupboard to take out a pair of his more rugged cups which he seldom used because they were, well, rugged, placing them on the table as well. He had just fetched the milk and was about to pour the tea when a sharp, almost demanding bell ring startled him. "Excuse me," he said, and went to the door.

"William Weasley, at your service," said a tall man with a deep bow. He was without doubt a son of the first couple, but his red hair was long, and he held it in a ponytail.

Before Harry had a chance to introduce himself and invite the man in, Arthur dashed to meet the newcomer. "Bill!" he yelled and pulled the younger man into a hug. "Come and see your mother." The Weasleys went inside. Harry stood in his place, too shocked to move a muscle for a while. Then he shuddered, turned around, and closed the door behind him.

He returned to the parlour where Arthur and Bill had made themselves comfortable, drinking tea from Harry's great-great-great-grandmother's precious teacups. "Now listen," he began, but the two men were too focused on their own conversation to notice. "Excuse me," Harry tried the second time, to no avail. "HEY!" he yelled at last. The two started, and their attention turned to Harry. "Now, I'm sorry but…"

"Didn't I already tell you there's no need to apologize," Arthur interrupted again, chastising him with playful smirk on his face.

Harry counted to ten. "As I was saying…"

And there went the front-door bell again. This time it was loud and forceful, lasting just a little bit longer than what was, in Harry's opinion, considered well-mannered.

"Who are you?" Harry questioned bluntly as soon as he got the door open.

"Charles Weasley, at your service," said a muscular, redheaded man.

"Harry Potter…." Harry began, but froze in his words as he regarded a little creature that took that moment to take a peek over the man's shoulder. "Is that…" He gulped. "Is that… a dragon?"

"Just a tiny one. A fair warning: there's only a handful of people he tolerates, and only one besides me whom he allows to handle him," Charlie explained, and scratched the little beast's head, earning him a contented snuffle and a puff of smoke. "The other's here yet?"

"Charlie! We're over here; come on! I found some Hobbiton beer!" someone shouted from inside, and the dragon-man pushed past Harry to join his family.

Harry followed on his heels, more than a little worried about the state of his precious cask of beer which he had been saving for his birthday, but while Charlie entered the parlour, Harry became distracted by smells and noises coming from his kitchen. When he peeked inside, it looked like every pot and pan and kettle was in use, with roast in the oven, and soup boiling on the stove, and something sizzling in three frying pans, and Molly Weasley was in the middle of it, her hands deep in a dough. "What's all of this?" he asked dumbfoundedly.

"Lunch," Molly announced with a radiant, happy smile.

"For what army?" Harry asked, as it really looked like everything from his pantry had been taken out and was now being transformed into a meal. And quite a delicious meal it would be.

"Oh, no worries. We Weasleys like to eat, and you look like you could use some food yourself. A bit on the thin side, you are. Are you sure you're eating enough? Maybe all you need is a good woman to take care of you. Actually, I may know someone…"

"No! Listen, I'm not looking for a woman at the moment, thank you very much. And I seriously doubt the five of us can consume all of this, no matter how delicious it will be."

"Of course not, my dear boy," Molly began, but whatever more she possibly said, Harry's brains didn't register it as the ringing of the doorbell suddenly overwhelmed his senses and filled him with dread. "Well, aren't you going to answer that?" she asked when the bell rang the second time, and Harry had not moved yet.

"No. What if it's another Weasley?" he whispered in a distressed tone.

"It's not very polite not to answer the door, you know, dear," Molly chided. "Besides, it could be someone important."

The third bell ring sounded exactly like the previous two; confident, and perfectly according to the etiquette. Harry sighed, and went to the door with trepidation.

"Percy Weasley, at your service," said a tall man in an impeccable black riding suit. His bow was deep, and he finalized it with a wide sweep of his arm.

Harry regarded the man from tip to toe. "Ministry?" he asked.

"That's very perceptive of you," said the man pompously, pulling himself even taller. "Most people are too intellectually challenged to notice little hints like those that I must be giving out, but I can see you are a man with refined conclusion skills. Indeed, I did my time as an undersecretary of…"

"Yes, very interesting," Harry cut in as he pushed the man inside. "Harry Potter, at your service, yada-yada-yada. Just get in already and soak yourself into my beverages like the rest of your family. Sheesh!"

He followed Percy in, and watched surly how he was greeted by his father and brothers. Charlie had found another tankard and filled it with Harry's finest beer, and soon the four Weasley men smacked their drinks together and emptied them in one go. They were completely ignoring their host who was silently fuming at the doorway, feeling that his head was about to explode.

And the blasted doorbell rang again.

Then it rang again. And again, and again.

"That's it!" Harry yelled. "No one, not one person is going to enter this house. I'm this close to getting my wand!" He yanked the door open by force, preparing to start yelling. Instead, he froze in his astonishment. "Did I, or did I not, taste that beer myself, as I'm seeing things in two already? Must be the nerves," he said, more to himself than to the two identical twins outside.

"Fred Weasley," said the leftmost twin.

"George Weasley," said the rightmost twin.

"At your service," they said together, and bowed.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter," Harry said. He was on automatic now, forgetting to be rude like he had planned. "At your service."

"Excellent," said Fred with a wide, mischievous grin. He extended his arm for Harry who took it and got immediately shocked by a buzzing device that made his hair stand straight up and smoke come out of his ears.

"Brilliant," said George and took Harry's hand as soon as Fred released it. When he released it a moment later, Harry had turned into a yellow canary.

"Don't worry about them, mate. The effect only lasts a minute," said a third voice soon after the twins had entered the house."

And truly, it was but a moment until Harry popped back into his usual appearance. "That was… confusing," he mumbled, taking support on a door jamb, and holding his hand on his chest.

The newcomer laughed. "Ronald Weasley, at your service," he said, extending his hand at Harry. "But you can call me Ron."

"Okay, Ron," Harry said, shaking hands with the tall redhead. "You seem like a decent fellow. You'd happen to know anyone who could explain me why my house is suddenly full of Weasleys?"

"What? How come nobody's told you?" Ron said, his eyes wide with astonishment. "Surely Dumbledore…"

"I haven't seen Dumbledore in ages," Harry cut in.

"Huh? Well, this is embarrassing. He told us to come here, and I thought… I guess we all assumed that you knew. Are you sure…?" Ron babbled when a crack of apparation interrupted him.

"Speak of the devil," Harry muttered as he regarded an old man with long, white beard, right behind Harry's garden gate.

"Hello, Harry," Professor Dumbledore greeted, and stepped through the gate. "It's so good to see you."

"Professor," Harry said with a slight nod, clenching his jaw.

"And Ron, I'm glad to see you've arrived as well."

"Good morning, Professor," Ron said and smiled nervously.

"You look like you've grown since the last time I saw you."

"Only in girth, professor," Ron chuckled.

"Professor," said Harry icily. "What is going on?"

"Ah, it looks like an explanation, and perhaps an apology, is in order," Dumbledore said as he quickly caught up with the situation, and his good mood waned considerably. "But not here, not in the open." He suddenly lifted his nose and smelled the air. "That must be Mrs Weasleys treacle tart if I'm not mistaken. Come on, now, quick! Never let the tart wait."

In the inside, the party had moved on to the dining room. A large uproar rose as everybody rushed up from the lunch table to greet Professor Dumbledore, and Harry couldn't get their attention. Finally, it was Ron who casually mentioned that nobody had informed Harry about the meeting in his home. That lead to an uncomfortable silence which everyone seemed to be reluctant to break.

"Well, this is embarrassing," said Arthur at last, and then the voice level rose again as a cacophony of multiple simultaneous apologies filled the room.

"Stop. Stop! STOP!" Harry yelled, finally succeeding in having his voice heard. "Now, would someone, please, explain what's going on," he continued, looking first at Arthur and Molly, but finally setting his eyes on Bill.

Bill looked around at each of his family. "Yes, I realize that you've deserved an explanation, but maybe we should wait for…"

That was the last straw for Harry. "No!" he yelled. "I'm tired of waiting! I'm tired of strange people strolling into my house, messing with my belongings, eating my food, drinking my beer, smoking my pipe-weed. I demand an explanation! Now!" He drew breath, and suddenly felt petty and awkward for his outburst. "Sorry."

Arthur grunted. "No, we are sorry. You're right, of course. We'll explain it at once. Bill, if you will?"

Bill began a long and winding explanation about their home, the Burrow, which apparently had been taken over by a dragon. The family had been forced to abandon their home, and ever since they had searched for means to conquer it back, making plans, collecting equipment, and researching necessary magic. And for some reason, Dumbledore had thought that Harry would be an invaluable asset in their quest, as a burglar.

"The dragon has taken the Burrow's ward stone into his custody," Bill said. "As a burglar, you'd be expected to sneak in and steal this stone. Only after that, with the wards down, can we attack and slay the dragon."

"Bill is the leader and the brains," Arthur said after Bill had finished. "Molly and I, we may be the parents, but this one is Bill's project; we just tag along and enjoy the show and provide any help that we can." One by one he turned to address each of his sons, explaining their role.

"Charlie is the muscle, both physically and magically. And most importantly, he's an expert with magical beasts."

"Percy is responsible of all paperwork as he knows how to handle local authorities. He's also one of the best – if not the best – duellers on this side of the Misty Mountains."

"Fred and George are tinkerers and magical smiths able to think out-of-the-box, so that whenever they can turn their prankster minds into something productive, extraordinary things happen."

"Ron has the greatest strategic mind of us all. It's amazing how he can spot flaws in enemy defences and pay attention to the smallest detail while planning on our approach."

Arthur was about to say more when, once again, there was an interruption in the form of the doorbell. It rang a little softer than before, but those subtleties were quickly lost under Harry's raging mind. "I'm going to rip that bloody doorbell off the wall and stuff it down anyone's throat who's ringing it," he fumed as he stomped to the hall. "What!" he shouted as he opened the door. Then he froze and fell silent, blinked a few times, suddenly unable to produce a coherent thought.

Outside there stood the most enchanting woman he had ever seen. Her skin was fair and most charmingly spattered with freckles. A mild wind moved her long, bright red hair in rays of the sun so that it looked like it was on fire. Her full lips were curving into an adorable grin and the cutest little nose completed the image. But in spite of everything else that Harry found very intriguing, her most prominent feature were the deep brown eyes which, at the moment, were laughing at him.

"H-h-h-hi!" Harry finally managed to say. The woman just stared at him, her grin extending to show her perfect teeth. "H-H-Harry. Weasley. POTTER! Harry. Potter. That is me. Harry Potter. At your service."

"Nice to have you at my service, Harry," the woman sang in a deep, perhaps a little husky voice. "I'm Ginny."

"G-G-Ginny. At your service," Harry stammered. A few blinks later he seemed to be able to recall enough manners to gesture her to enter.

"Ginevra, behave," Molly chided when she passed him to give her daughter a crushing hug of welcome.

"Sorry I'm late, mum," Ginny said.

"No matter," Molly said. "Come, dear, everyone's waiting."

The women went inside but it took Harry some time to recover and cool down before he felt ready to follow. "Wow," he sighed at last, and closed the door.

When he returned to the dining room, he noticed that Ginny had been sat at the far end of the dining table, and she was quickly consuming a large plate of food. Harry took his place in the only free chair at the other end and was immediately approached by Percy.

"This is an agreement," Percy said, pulling a scroll of parchment out of his bag, "which you must sign before you can be allowed to take part. It grants you one tenth of the loot gathered by the dragon, and lists the property not included in the deal. It also relieves the Weasley family from any obligations regarding your potential injury or death. Sign over here, and you'll be done."

"No," Harry said softly, the words 'injury' and 'death' still ringing in his ears. "No, no, no, no, no. You must have mistaken me to somebody else. I am not a burglar. Burglars are sneaky and I'm not sneaky. I know nothing of burgling. This whole thing you have sounds very much like an adventure, and the Potters, decent folk that we are, have never been known to be adventurers. Dangerous business, they are. Thank you and goodbye. There!" And he raised his chin and looked Dumbledore defiantly into eye.

"Potters not adventurous?" Dumbledore chuckled. "I could tell you a story or two about you father, bless his soul. And you mother, too! And Harry, are you sure that you don't know anything about burglary? Wasn't it you who stole half of Farmer Maggot's turnips from his carriage?"

"Well…"

"While he was riding it?"

"Now look..."

"And sitting on the very turnips sack!"

"I was nine at the time!" Harry cried with exasperation.

"And what about the time when you stole your uncle's glass eye from its socket while he was sleeping, hmm?"

"Ha! But I got caught!"

"Not by him, but by your aunt, wasn't it?"

"Well, yeah…"

"And then what?"

"I… well… She made me to put it back."

"Let me make it clear. You stole your uncle's glass eye from his eye socket and then put it back, without him waking up? If that's not sneaky, then I don't know what is."

Harry didn't have anything to say against that, and the Weasleys were rolling with laughter. Then each of them in turn emerged with some funny story of their own, and the laughter and feasting went on a long time. The day turned into afternoon, afternoon into evening, lunch into tea, and tea into dinner. And Harry had plenty of time to experience what a boisterous, happy family the Weasleys were. He had not had so much fun in a very, very long time.

Finally, when the night was due, and everybody was retiring to sleep in Harry's numerous guest rooms, Bill approached Harry once again in the hallway. "Thank you for letting us stay the night in your home, Harry," he said.

"I believe it's the least I can do," Harry responded. "I do like you guys, and I really hope you can defeat the dragon. I just don't think it's possible for me to come with you, even if I wanted to."

"Anything's possible if you've got enough nerve," said Ginny, giving Harry a heart attack with her sudden appearance. She had just come out of a toilet and passed them on her way to her room which she shared with her parents.

Harry watched her back until she disappeared from his sight. He took a deep breath and finally remembered to return his attention to Bill who had a strange, inquisitive, even a bit amused expression on his face.

"Well, you'll have the night to think about it," Bill said, and smacked him into his chest with the agreement scroll. "We'll be leaving first thing in the morning."

One by one the doors of the guest rooms slammed shut, and Harry found himself standing alone in the hall, clutching the scroll in his hands. Slowly he dragged himself to his own bed, and after a fitful sleep, he woke up in the morning to find out that the Weasleys were already leaving. He waved them a dejected goodbye, wondering if he would ever see them again, and watched them as long as he could as they spread out to fetch their steeds from different stables around the village. Only when he was unable to see a single tuft of red hair anymore, did he return to his parlour to brood in his favourite armchair.

Suddenly, it was so quiet again. Exactly as quiet as twenty-four hours ago.

Too quiet.

He thought about their offer. A burglar? But he had never, not once, broken into anywhere. It was true that he had the skill to move around so that nobody noticed, and on top of that, he had his father's invisibility cloak. Would he be able to pull off what was expected of him? Nevertheless, he had responsibilities. Obligations. Things to do, places to be. It wasn't so that he could just leave everything on a whim.

In the end, a memory of a disappointed gaze in a pair of brown eyes was all Harry needed to remake his earlier decision. He suddenly understood that he couldn't care less of the Longbottoms' garden party, or if his lawn grew untended for a few weeks, or if a vote in the town council was this or that.

Two hours later, Harry was completely out of breath. He had been running, almost without a break, but getting his destination finally in sight gave him strength. "Hey! Wait up!" he yelled.

The caravan stopped. A contented "told-you-so" was heard, and a few smug glances were exchanged as betting profits changed owners, while Harry caught up with the Weasleys and Dumbledore.

"I signed it," he panted, and handed a scroll of parchment to Percy, though his eyes hardly left Ginny who was practically shining, her smile reaching from ear to ear. "I decided to come along. If you still let me."

"Everything seems to be in order," Percy said after a proper and purposefully prolonged inspection of the scroll, as he smugly tucked it into his bag. "Welcome to the team, Mr Potter."

"Give the young man a horse," Bill ordered with a friendly smile.

"This girl's name is Firebolt. You know how to ride, Potter?" Charlie asked when he handed him the reins of a dark brown mare.

Harry grinned. If there was something that he was good at, it was riding. It helped that somehow horses just seemed to get him. His horse whisperer skills got confirmation when the mare nuzzled his cheek, and he patted her neck before grabbing the reins and mounting with grace. That's when he noticed his backpack was still lying down on the ground level. "One moment," he said. He trotted closer, and never slowing or leaving the saddle he bent down and reached his hand out, easily lifting his backpack up, and returning to sitting position.

"Show off," Ginny said, while the other Weasley's laughed at his successful stunt.

The caravan started moving again, and inadvertently Harry fell a little behind with Ginny. They rode side by side, and their chitchat was spiced with light-hearted bantering.

"So, what's your specialty?" Harry asked, desperate to keep the conversation going.

"Specialty?"

"Yes. As I understood, all your brothers have some area of expertise. What's yours?"

Ginny was silent while she contemplated his question. "I don't think I have one."

"You don't? Hmm." Harry regarded her for a while. "Help me out, and perhaps we can find you one. Let's see. First of all, you seem pretty smart to me."

Ginny snorted and lowered her voice as he leaned towards Harry. "Don't tell my brothers, but I'm as smart as Bill, I can be as devious as the twins, I can beat Percy in a duel, I'm the godmother of that little devil on Charlie's shoulder, and if you think Ron's stubborn, you've never met me."

A wide grin spread over Harry's face as Ginny straightened and turned her smug gaze ahead. "Oh really, Miss Perfect? If you're that good, then why do you guys need me?" he asked.

Ginny hummed softly before she answered. "Entertainment?"

All Harry was able to do was to burst into a resounding laughter.