Chapter 3
A Toast to New Beginnings
"Have you seen my copy of Quivering Quills: A History of Magical Stationary?"
"I can't believe you're taking History of Magic this year," Harry said. "I've not seen it, by the way."
Ron shrugged. He'd caught the sun again in yesterday's Quidditch match - it was skins versus shirts - and winced as burned shoulders rubbed against his shirt. He crossed his red arms over his chest and held each opposite shoulder, as if trying to pat out two small fires.
"'S easy. If I can stay awake. I might sneak Pepper-up out the hospital wing or something. And Binns is doing a whole section on enchanted mechanical paraphernalia that might actually help with a project I'm working on at the shop."
It was evening, the night before they were due to catch the Hogwarts Express. The pair of them were packing their bags before dinner. Sort of. The small room, plastered once more in shiny, up-to-date Chudley Cannons posters (all signed!), looked like a bomb had gone off, scattering ink bottles, parchment, odd socks and - Harry noticed - an escaped gang of rogue chocolate frogs. Old ones, by the look of the greyish bloom on their chocolate backs. One had already met its demise by wriggling into a small hole in the mesh at the top of Severina's vivarium. She reported she was disappointed by the lack of 'gutsss.'
Needless to say, not much of anything was in either of they boys' battered old trunks, yet.
Harry swept an armful of sweet wrappers tied into little bows off his bedside table into the waste paper basket.
"You still gonna try and work there during the year?"
Now that they had learned of to Apparate - and Ron had spent the last few months practicing - they were rather hoping they could spend a bit of time outside of Hogwarts for a change. Hogsmeade trips were great and all, but the small village was nothing compared to the wonders of Diagon Alley, or the chance to pop by the Burrow for a home-cooked meal once in a while. It was Hermione who reckoned they would have a lot more freedom as eighth years, given that under ordinary circumstances they would all be off getting proper jobs and whatnot.
"It's a long way to Apparate, but I think I can do it in a few trips, yeah. I'd like to at least do the odd weekend, you know? Check in on George. And he needs the help, the place is always packed these days. Now it's run by a hero of the battle at Hogwarts. And George is useless at organising the inventory out back, you won't believe the mess he makes of the orders..." He flushed. "Sorry, boring subject. Shoptalk."
Harry chuckled. It was endearing really. Apart from chess and Quidditch, Ron never looked so animated as when he was talking about the Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.
"I don't know why you didn't just start working there full time you know. You clearly love it. And it's not like George expects you to have your N.E.W.T.s or anything."
"Mum was having none of it, mate. And like... I wanted to go back to Hogwarts, you know. Make up for lost time. Come away with a year of happy memories instead of the rubbish that keeps me up half the night. And I'd miss you guys, 'course."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
They both stood in silence for a beat.
"Aha! There it is!" Ron exclaimed, diving for something under his orange quaffle-patterned duvet. He emerged wielding the History of Magic textbook and a grin.
Just then they heard Ginny call from downstairs. They both trundled down to find Andromeda Tonks in the hall, a bunch of flowers in one hand and a wriggling baby in the other. She wore a periwinkle dress and a light greyish-purple summer shawl. Someone had tied a bonnet around the baby's chin, who was clearly not pleased with the decision and was frowning and pawing at the bow with his fists.
"Come in, come in!" cried Arthur Weasley, holding a tea towel.
"Lovely of you to have us, Arthur, as ever," she replied, primly. "I don't suppose you have a vase? Ten minutes in the heat and these have already started to wilt."
"Of course." He took the flowers and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Eyyy, it's the big bruiser! Watch out!"
Ron leapt down the last few steps. He landed with a thud that caused sawdust to rain down from the ceiling. "Put 'er there!"
Harry laughed as his best friend put up his palms, letting little Teddy whack at his hands in delight.
"Pow pow! He'll make an Auror yet, just like 'is mum." Ron crouched down to tickle the child's belly, making out it was a devastating uppercut. "But not quick enough for me!"
Harry's godson shrieked and kicked his legs. Andromeda smiled a quick, pinched smile.
"You'll make sure your friend doesn't get my grandchild into any trouble?" she said as Harry approached.
"What, Ron?" It was hard to talk over the squealling.
Ron laughed, still tickling Teddy's sides. "Yeah what, me?"
Andromeda sighed. She held the baby out to Harry and plunked him in his arms. Ron came round to continue his wildly exaggerated battle with the child - all a cover, Harry noticed - for him to surreptitiously remove the ugly bonnet from the poor boy's head. Ron had a lot of experience with kids and seemed entirely comfortable around them in a way that Harry had never quite been able to master. He didn't speak emotionally unstable mini-human. Snakes were easier...
"Ronald, where is your mother? She has a firewhisky with my name on it, I believe."
"Kitchen. Prol'y."
She swept off. The woman was part of the Black family and though there wasn't much of a resemblance, something about the purposeful, austere march to the kitchen in pursuit of alcohol reminded Harry of his own godfather. And, weirdly, of Malfoy - did pure-bloods all attend the same posture and etiquette lessons? And then, from another angle, her daughter, Nymphadora. There it was again. That pang in his heart. He wondered if that would ever stop, or if he'd be a walking melancholic harp forever, his heart strings plucked glissando style by a nostalgic smell or sight or taste that reminded him of lost loved ones. Everything, everyone, seemed to have a past, like the connection of a silver thread of memory to the time before Voldemort... and to a time after.
As if sensing the grim turn of Harry's thoughts, Teddy grabbed at his glasses and had them in his mouth. Ron tutted and gently pried them off of him.
"Bit slobbery, but none the worse for wear," he said, giving them an insufficient wipe on the edge of his shirt before putting them back on Harry's nose before he could protest. Harry, rendered pretty much blind by the smudged lenses, started at Ginny's voice from his left.
"You are here to help, aren't you?"
The trio of boys followed her (after Harry had pawned his godson over to Ron and cleaned his glasses properly) into the dining room. George and Lee were putting up strings of daises, enchanted to twenty times their normal size, all around the room. Percy was blowing up the balloons that were left over from Harry's birthday party a month earlier. Hermione was putting doilies under all the plates, making each plate hover one by one with wandless magic. Yet more pastel bunting hung from the chandelier to all four corners of the ceiling.
Someone had spilled jasmine oil on the carpet, which, mingled with the heat, had drenched the room in a heady floral aroma that wasn't exactly unpleasant, but was a bit... overwhelming. Harry got the impression from the effort to make a big thing of their last night that Molly wasn't much looking forward to an empty nest.
"Pour the punch, Ron," Ginny instructed.
She took Teddy and put him in his high chair. He burbled conversationally. She gave him a giant daisy, which he then chewed with considerable interest. Harry felt rather sorry for it.
Looking around for something to do, he went over to Percy to help with the balloons. The fellow seemed half dead from blowing them all up by himself. He wheezed in greeting and flashed him a grateful smile. Harry did his best to spell off the 'Happy Birthday!' lettering but ended up with half the balloons reading, confusingly, 'Ha...ir...y!'.
Soon, the whole family - plus, well, the honorary extended family - of Weasleys were all seated round the table. The meal was a summer feast of barbecue and lamb chops and mint sauce and Greek salad with crumbly feta cheese. As usual, Molly had outdone herself.
Sat next to Andromeda, who was trying to get Teddy to eat solid foods by himself (a hopeless endeavour), Harry found he was enjoying getting to know the woman who he was starting to the think of as family. It was weird, but pleasant.
"I trained as a Healer, you know," she said. They'd been discussing what he was going to do after his last year. She winced as a small pot of peas was upended into the carpet.
"I never ended up practicing the art much. Not the done thing to have a job, among us pure-bloods, at the time. I took up nursing for a short while. Then I met Ted and one thing led to another. Never went back to it."
Harry remembered her healing Hagrid on the night when he and six other polyjuiced Harry Potters had fled from the Dursley's.
"Is it hard, healing magic?" he asked.
"Depends if you have the aptitude for it. Much like any discipline, it takes practice, naturally. It's an empathetic magic, meaning you really have to connect with your patient before you can perform the spells to full effect. And there are different areas of focus, of course: diagnostics, surgical magic, diseases and poisons, mental wellbeing, experimental...
"Come on my darling, one more bite of tomato for Nanny, please?"
Teddy pinched his lips between his gums.
Mrs Tonks, sensing defeat, handed him a rusk and sat back in her chair.
"There's a lot of pain in the job. You can imagine. But it has many rewards, as well. Every day's a challenge. Never boring, but the drama has a... routine. You can leave it behind. Most of the time.
"And there's every opportunity to develop your skills and dig into what drives you as a magic user. Where you draw your power from, how deep does that well run - you find yourself invested, not just in the work itself but in the value of it. Saving lives - I don't have to tell you - saving lives is exhilarating. How could it not be?"
He leaned forward, nearly putting his elbow in the gravy. "How do you become a Healer?"
She waved a hand. "It was so long ago they've undoubtedly changed the whole procedure by now. You'll have to check with the school what subjects you'll need. Transfigurations is likely. Maybe Arithmancy - I know I took it when I was a girl. Then there's junior and senior training placement at a teaching hospital for two years. Then you move on to a one-to-one mentorship with an experienced Mediwitch or wizard, if you pass the exams. They help you with your dissertation, which goes the round of board reviews and all that before you get your qualification."
She paused, thinking.
"The woman, Pomphrey is it? She might be able to point you in the right direction."
"Oh, ah... Um. Yes." Harry had never really thought about being anything other than an Auror before. He'd been dead set on it. But it was looking like Ron was a whole lot happier working at the shop with George and Hermione had recently said she wanted to go into academic research... Maybe it was time he re-evaluate his options as well?
"Thanks, Mrs Tonks. I'll definitely think about it."
"Call me Andromeda, dear. Or Dromeda."
"Rom-e-wah!" Teddy cried piercingly. He clearly had become displeased the conversation wasn't involving him in some way.
Then, in floated a set of chipped crystal bowls full of frozen dessert, which started a whole new chorus of appreciative munching and clinking of cutlery against glass.
Once they'd finished their ice cream, the teenagers left the nattering adults and baby Teddy downstairs and all piled into Ron and Harry's room, which somehow didn't look any better than when they'd left it. They shoved the half empty trunks under the beds and pushed piles of clothes and books onto the floor. Hermione fussed at the state of the place but admitted even she was too full to care. George produced a small flask of Dragon Barrel Brandy. They shared it round.
"To the eighth years - may they fail so badly they repeat a year every year and never have to work a day in their lives," toasted Lee Jordan.
Ron flipped him the bird.
"To absolutely hammering every other house into the dust and winning the Quidditch cup without any stupid interruptions!" Ginny said with fervour on her turn.
"Hear hear!"
Ron took the flask next. He held it between his teeth, put his arms around both Harry and Hermione and tipped his head back. Hermione plucked the flask from his lips and he crowed, "To never going camping again!"
He shook them both from side to side. Harry laughed so hard his belly ached.
"I second that! And to a year of actual learning - in class - without half my brain taken up by figuring out some stupid evil plot."
Ron turned to Harry after Hermione's toast. "Wait, this whole time she was only using half her brain?"
"Oh Merlin, what have we unleashed?" he stage-whispered back.
"You'll have to wait and see," Hermione trilled, passing him the brandy across Ron's chest. "This stuff doesn't half burn."
He thought for a minute. He thought, weirdly, about how Andromeda Tonks walked.
"To long memories and new beginnings."
The brandy hit in a wash of alcoholic heat before dissipating into warm notes of honey and spiced apple. The group around him nodded as a unit.
After a few hours of casual banter, and then more hours spent packing late into the evening, Harry and Ron said goodnight to Hermione before falling asleep on their respective beds. Harry barely even had time for his head to hit the pillow before he was out like a light.
The next morning they were up bright and early and the atmosphere in the Burrow was all at once tense and joyful, tearful and chaotic. Molly was, predictably, a wreck. Arthur forced her to sit and not stir a muscle as the school-goers sorted themselves out in a last-minute haphazard way that had her twitching with the urge to jump in and take over. However, she was trapped under a tray of tea and biscuits on her lap, which she consumed while sobbing into a handkerchief and pointing at shoes and other stuff people had misplaced.
"Whatsss thisss fusss?" grumbled Severina, emerging from her log as Harry and Ron awkwardly carried her vivarium downstairs.
"We're going to Hogwarts," Harry replied. Ron yelped and the box tipped by about a foot before he recovered.
"Warn me when you're going to that, mate," he said. "That sound does something to me and just-" He shuddered. "Gives me the willies."
"Sorry."
"I hope you'll put me down sssoon," the snake said, having arched her spine in reaction to the sudden earthquake in her home.
"Ron?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, go for it - yep!" Then to himself: "Speak to the ruddy snake like it's a normal thing to do; not going to freak anyone out at all when we get to the dorms. Totally normal stuff."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Sev, I promise, it'll be over soon. We just need to catch the Express and we'll be at the castle by the end of the day. You'll be able to sleep on the train."
"Good," she replied. Her eyes narrowed. "Don't let anyone drop me."
"I won't."
The plan was to use a Portkey (an old boot) to get them all to the platform. George wasn't coming as he had the shop to see to, and Percy and Arthur said their goodbyes before they Apparated to the Ministry. Lee Jordan had also left for work, but not before handing Ron a bag branded with the Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes logo and saying he'd picked out a few "special" items for the school year when George wasn't looking.
Molly hugged them all at the door. Each hug lasted longer than the last. Harry had to pat her back to let go after he counted at least five minutes. His shoulder felt rather damp through his school robes. They had all decided to change before they got on the train.
"Oh good luck, my loves. You won't get into any trouble this year, will you? Or at least if you do get into trouble you'll keep Ginerva out of it." she said, hiccupping and blowing her nose wetly.
Once they were out onto the somewhat crispy lawn, Hermione put the Portkey on top of the pile of trunks, which they'd lashed together for the journey.
"Make sure you have a tight grip of everything," she instructed the four of them. Judging from the ensuing (brief, violent, whispered) argument, Ron had taken this as an invitation to grope her from behind.
Out the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Ginny as she mimed puking into her cauldron.
"Anyway. As I was saying, hold onto your stuff and touch the Portkey. It's due to go off in five minutes."
Just then Ron paled. "Forgot Pig!"
"Oh for Merlin's sake. Hurry up!"
Ron tripped over a bag, leapt forward and dashed back towards the Burrow. Molly stood aside on the porch, hands on hips and looking much more like the fearsome Weasley matriarch that Harry remembered.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley, how on earth could you forget that poor bird?" They could hear her as she started to shout into the house. "If nobody's moved it, it'll still be in the kitchen! No, the kitchen! Yes I'm sure!"
Ron emerged holding the cage in one hand. An owl the size of a fluffy snitch bounced around inside it, shrieking.
"Thanks mum, love you! Bye!" he said kissing her cheek before streaking across the garden towards Harry, Ginny and Hermione.
"Stupid little feathery git." He wedged himself in between Harry and Hermione.
"One minute," Hermione warned.
They all crowded in to touch the old boot. Harry had taken Severina out and wrapped her around his neck, just in case holding the vivarium between his shins didn't work out as planned. He had a bag slung over one shoulder, another two sacks in his right hand and his cauldron dangling from his elbow. His Firebolt was jammed under his armpit. The rest of the group were in a similar predicament, except Hermione who still had her seemingly bottomless beaded handbag. Of the four of them, she appeared the least ruffled. She had one hand on the stack of trunks and the other firmly placed on the Portkey, which she had bewitched herself after reading about it the art in Josinda Erving's Portkeys: Priority Travel and Ten Ways Out of a Pinch and Arthur had got her a permission slip.
Then, the familiar wrenching at the naval started, and Harry felt his stomach flop as the Portkey activated. He screwed his eyes shut and whispered soothingly to the snake that was constricting his neck in fright.
With a clatter of dropped objects, they appeared in a roped off area on platform 9¾. Ginny looked a bit green, like she might actually throw up in her cauldron this time.
"Come along now, hurry hurry, the next group is due in two minutes." A uniformed official ushered them out of the cordoned-off square. Hermione levitated their trunks, with some effort, to follow them and Harry nudged his snake's vivarium along with his knees. They collapsed onto the platform, all needing a moment to let the nausea settle. Beside them the Hogwarts Express loomed and spat steam like a great black dragon.
"I did not like that," hissed Severina in Harry's ear. He felt her tongue flick against his earlobe.
"Sorry. Train next. And once we're in the dorms you won't have to move again for months."
"I will take, as compensssation... the snacking bird."
Harry laughed as she slid over his shoulder towards Pigwideon's cage.
"That's not a snack!" He gently scooped her from his neck and put her back inside her enclosure, where she disappeared from sight under her log.
Ron noticed the exchange and even though he didn't understand Parseltongue he cottoned on.
"She can 'ave 'im. More good he'll do her than me, I expect. Look at the idiot..."
It was true the bird had responded to the journey by bouncing even more violently around its cage and emitting piercing shrieks at passers by.
"Hermione! Ginny!" There was a shout and Harry glanced up to see Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas pushing their trolleys towards them.
Dean flashed Ginny a quick grin then stared pointedly at the wall as he caught sight of Harry. He felt the lion in his chest grumble, but not stir from its resting place. Things really had changed. Go figure.
"Hey Dean, good to see you," he said, to put the boy at ease. Dean grinned and waved.
"Yeah, good summer?"
Before he could answer, Seamus came forward to gave Hermione a quick hug. He patted Ron on the back. "Weasley, good to see you. Looking good, mate. 'Cept... been hexed pink is it? Spat with the missus?"
"Shut up, Fin. It's sunburn," Ron said. He cocked his head. "What's Luna got on her feet?"
Harry peered round him. Sure enough Luna Lovegood was traipsing down the platform towards them. Her hair was bundled on her head in a teased-out Beehive and she wore two large jewelled strawberries in her ears. On her feet were a pair of extremely fluffy slippers with claws poking through the fur at the front.
"Oh hello, Harry," she said looking directly at Ron.
Ron's brow furrowed. "Uhh, hi?"
"Your aura is different today, you know."
"I bet." Behind him, Harry snickered into his sleeve.
"It's probably because of the Rule of Three. Jupiter's moons have a way of influencing the auras of young men at this time of the month, and they're particularly close all year in fact. Expect you'll need to change your whole perspective on well, this and that." She waved. "Love. Life. The Universe. It's all connected."
"Uhh. Right. Anyway, Harry's here."
He sidestepped and Harry nodded, trying to remember how to keep his face straight.
"Oh yes. Of course. Silly me."
"I've got a new familiar, do you want to meet her?" Harry asked for something to say. Luna was in one of her dreamier moods.
"I'd love to Harry. I can sense you're already fast friends. The Wrackspurts are quite excited."
After he'd showed her Severina, they put their luggage in the baggage compartment, dropped off the animals and set about finding any free compartments.
"Were we ever that small?" Ron muttered as a first year bumped into his back, jumped and ran off.
"That you, Ron?" A door slid open. Neville Longbottom was sat on the plush velvet bench. He looked much too tall for the small compartment even on his own, and Harry was shocked to see how different he appeared from the last time he'd seen him. Before, he'd been rather battered and bruised from fighting in Dumbledore's Army. Now that he was all healed up, it was hard not to notice... since when had Neville Longbottom become good-looking?
"I wasn't sure who all was coming by train. I think a bunch of the eighth years are Apparating to Hogsmeade and walking up. Glad I'm not here by myself."
"We figured we'd take the train - be nice to have a quiet trip for once!" said Ron.
Hermione, Harry and Ron piled in. Seamus, Dean, Luna and Ginny went off to find another compartment - much to Dean's surprise. Before she left, Ginny leaned in and whispered so only Harry could hear.
"I might take another bite of that." His eyes nearly popped out his head. "Rip the plaster - is that the Muggle phrase? - off quick, I think," she continued, gesturing inside the compartment with her eyes. "I'd rather we let them all know we're not an item anymore sooner than later." With that she marched off. Harry wondered how quickly the rumour mill could spin that news into a web of gossip so thick Aragog could've used it to make his nest.
"Ginny not staying?" Neville asked. Harry groaned internally. Yes. Best get it over with.
"We broke up over the summer," he said, keeping his tone light. Casual.
"Oh!" Neville spun to Ron and Hermione. Ron had his head in the bag Lee Jordan had given him and was rifling through its contents with his sleeves rolled up. He looked at Neville.
"Don't ask me. He's not said a word about it. They're not fighting or anything. It's massively weird. All I know is Ginny said 'You really don't want to know' and then threatened to hex my balls off if I talked about it and that's kinda enough for me, you know? I mean, I know Harry's my best mate, but I don't wanna pry too deep into the love life of my own sister, no offence."
Harry smiled at him. Ron had tried hard to tamp down his curiosity after the initial bombardment of questions when they'd broke the news in July. He'd seen Harry's discomfort - it was radiating off him in a sizable radius - and in the end left it at one, final question: "You don't hate each other do you? Cause Gin, Harry's family and there's no way that's going to change." It was a good memory. Harry's family...
Hermione flicked open a book and stuck her nose in it, saying nothing. Harry felt a wave of warmth towards his best friends.
He bumped shoulders with Neville to dislodge his bemused expression. "I'm all good. She's all good. It was a good relationship. We just weren't meant to be. No matter what the The Prophet prints."
Neville blinked at him, then shrugged and launched into talking about his holiday in Peru over the summer and how his grandmother had bought him the fantastically colourful patterned jumper he was wearing, in spite of the heat. Harry sat back, and for once, enjoyed an entirely uneventful journey to Hogwarts.