Ron was not having a particularly huge amount of fun this summer. He was glad to be home, since the last school year at Hogwarts hadn't been one of the best. But there was a tension in the air that wasn't usually present at The Burrow. Nobody mentioned it much, but the knowledge that You-Know-Who had returned was hanging over each and every one of them. The feeling that they were reaching the end of the peaceful times was with everyone - even Ron, though he tried to convince himself otherwise. It wasn't the sort of thing that tended to make holidays fun.
Mr Weasley was constantly away from home - either working overtime at the Ministry, or visiting old school friends and aquaintances to try to convey to them the seriousness of the situation. He had even replaced the old warding charms around the house and paddock, something he hadn't done since Ron was a baby. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, had more or less put a stranglehold on the Daily Prophet, the main source of news in the wizarding world, to prevent them from telling everyone what had really happened in the past year at Hogwarts. Fudge was still stubbornly refusing to accept that Voldemort had returned, and determined to keep those who did believe it from telling anyone ('Running around causing a panic, I won't have it, I tell you!'). Ron knew that the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Albus Dumbledore, was trying to prepare as many people as possible, and this was why his father was often away from home. Mum wasn't away so often, but she constantly borrowed Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, to send to her own old school friends, and once or twice a very flustered witch or wizard had Apparated right in their kitchen demanding to be told whether the horrible rumours were all true.
Altogether, the summer had gotten off to a rotten start. To top it all, Ron was worried about Harry. He had no idea why they hadn't been allowed to have Harry to stay with them this summer, but whatever the reason was, he didn't like leaving his friend with the dreadful Dursleys. He had spent an uncomfortable amount of time last term positively detesting Harry, and would have liked to make it up to him with a decent summer for once. Since that didn't look likely, he contented himself with sending Pigwidgeon (whenever he could get him) to Harry's house with letters. It seemed the Dursleys were letting Harry use Hedwig this year, because this time he actually got replies. Harry was having a predictably dreadful summer, but the Dursleys weren't being any more nasty than usual, and Harry in fact suspected that some well-meaning wizard or other had had a quiet word with them. The Dursleys were terrified of full grown wizards. They weren't too happy at being around Harry, come to that. It didn't seem right to Ron, but his mother claimed Dumbledore knew best, so he had given up asking what it was all about.
It hadn't taken much persuasion by the twins to get Ron to go with them into the Muggle village to visit the sweet shop. The twins had an idea for their project, 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes', involving mimicking Muggle sweets to lure in the unsuspecting wizard, and had decided that they needed to buy large quantities of Muggle sweets - for research purposes, of course. The whole idea had been inspired by Harry's cousin Dudley's having 'accidentally' come across a Ton Tongue Toffee last year. Ron thought they were mad, but as buying large quantities of sweets was by no means a bad thing, he went along.
Getting knocked over by a Muggle girl had not been part of the deal...but as she gave him sweets, he wasn't about to complain. For all they lived near a village full of them, and for all Mr Weasley's interest in Muggles, Ron had very rarely actually spoken to one. He knew that a lot of his friends at Hogwarts - in particular one of his best friends, Hermione Granger - were Muggle-born, but he had never really been interested before. Now, however, he began to wonder.
The Muggles knew nothing about Voldemort, or trouble at the Ministry, or the awful death of Cedric Diggory last year. The Muggles didn't know that there was likely to be big trouble, very soon. That was, after all, the main point of the Ministry of Magic. It would make a change, talking to someone who didn't know. He wondered if he would see the Muggle girl - Emmy Harris, her name was - again, she had been friendly enough.
He didn't actually see Emmy again for almost a week. He had gone for a walk to escape the gaggle of women who had turned up that morning and were sitting talking to Mrs Weasley in the kitchen about You-Know-Who, Harry, Cedric, and all kinds of unpleasant stuff. He thought about rooting out the twins for a game in the meadow, but they were closeted in their room - probably working on more of their positively dangerous sweets - and wouldn't come out ('Go away Ron, unless you want us to try some of this on you!').
So Ron found himself out in the lane, kicking at stones and utterly bored. A little way down the lane from the house, he spotted something leaning against a hedge and as he came closer, he realised it was a Muggle bicycle. Nothing near as good as a broomstick, of course, but Ron eyed it interestedly. He had never had a go on a bicycle.
'Oh, not again!' he heard someone say from over the hedge. Peering through, he saw Emmy Harris, holding a little notebook in her hand, an annoyed expression on her face. She didn't see him, but made a mark in the notebook, turned slightly, and determinedly paced forward. After about six paces, she turned and almost scurried back again before stopping herself short with a muttered 'Argh! Six? Is that it?'
Ron frowned. Muggles really were weird. What on earth was she doing in the middle of a field? Measuring it? Well, who knew what Muggle schools made a person do over the holidays? Scrambling through the hedge, he called out, 'Hello! Emmy, isn't it?'
She saw him, and for a moment he could have sworn she looked guilty, but then she smiled and nodded. 'Yes. And you're Ron, right?'
'Yeah,' he answered, feeling a bit awkward. He wondered if he should ask her what she was doing in the field, but then, what if it was something perfectly normal for Muggles? Deciding not to chance it, he tried to make conversation. 'Just...er...out for a walk, you know...'
'Me, too. Well, I brought my bike. I'm working on a kind of map.' She started toward the hedge and pushed her way through it, hissing slightly as her hair caught and pulled. Ron followed and watched with interest as she picked up her bicycle.
'Mum and Dad got me it for my birthday,' she said, misinterpreting his stare. 'Its a good one. They do it every year.' She didn't sound happy about it as she shoved her notebook into her back pocket, and began to push the bike back toward Ottery-St-Catchpole. Ron followed, for want of anything better to do. 'I don't see you in the village much,' Emmy continued.
'No. Well, there are a lot of us...' Ron said, making an excuse quickly. 'We usually make enough noise at home, Mum says.'
'My Mum says I don't make enough noise. Don't know what she expects, though, sending me to Willoughby. They turn out 'young ladies', and 'young ladies' don't make noise,' she said in disgust. 'You get out of the habit after a while.'
Ron laughed. 'Yeah, tell me about it. We've got this caretaker at our school worse than all the teachers put together...well maybe not all the teachers,' he said, remembering Professor Snape, 'But most of them. Takes us a week when we get home to stop tiptoeing around avoiding him and his blasted cat.'
'His cat?' Emmy laughed. 'I do like cats...but they're sly looking things, aren't they, sometimes? Always looking like they know more than they're letting on.'
Ron stopped himself just before he mentioned Crookshanks, who had certainly known more than he was letting on about Ron's old rat, Scabbers. He amended it to, 'Yeah, they do. Friend of mines got a cat that can be a bit creepy.'
'Creepy can be good.'
Ron shuddered. 'Not really. Trust me.'
He walked back to the village with Emmy, talking carefully about school, and parents, and the summer in general. Once or twice he thought he must have said something odd, and once or twice Emmy mentioned something about which he knew absolutely nothing, but mostly it was oddly normal. When they reached the top of what he assumed was Emmy's street, they paused for a moment.
'Right,' Emmy said slightly awkwardly. 'Thanks for walking back with me.'
'S'okay,' Ron replied, shrugging. Then he noticed something on the ground. 'Hey. You dropped your notebook.' He bent down to pick it up.
'No! Don't!' Emmy almost yelled, and scooped up the little book quickly before he could get close to it.
'I wasn't going to steal it or anything!' Ron said in an offended voice. 'Its only a notebook.'
Emmy flushed bright red. 'I know. I'm sorry. Its just...private. I write stuff. Like a diary, you know?'
Ron opened his mouth to say that he had a very low opinion of diaries, but realised that he could hardly mention his sister's having been possessed by one, and only said, 'Oh. Right.'
Over the next few days, he met up with Emmy a few times. She dragged one of her old bicycles out of her garage when he admitted to not having one, and Ron spent an enjoyable (if a bit embarrassing) time trying to ride it without falling off. Sometimes, he didn't even think of You-Know-Who until he got back home. One day when he and Emmy had just gotten back from a bike ride (during which Ron had excelled himself by only falling off once) Emmy waved at someone across the street and said to Ron. 'Aren't those your brothers?'
Ron glanced to where she had pointed and groaned. 'Yeah. I bet Mum sent them to get me. I said I'd be back ages ago.'
He said goodbye and ran over to join the twins, who were giving him identical odd looks. 'Don't start,' he growled as he passed them, and stalked off on the way home.
When they reached The Burrow, Ron was about to go in the front door when Fred called him back.
'Hey, Ron. Wait a minute. What do you think you're up to?'
'None of your business,' Ron said, annoyed.
'Mum'll go mad when she finds out,' Fred said, sounding thoroughly amused.
'You show her your wand yet?' asked George.
'Shut up,' Ron muttered. 'Anyway, why should Mum go mad? Its not as if-'
'Hello Mum,' George said, raising his eyebrows at Ron.
Mrs Weasley was standing behind Ron. 'Why should I go mad about what?' she asked. Ron turned back toward her, feeling slightly sick.
'Er...nothing, Mum,' he tried desperately. To his surprise, George jumped in.
'Ron almost fell off his broomstick, trying that Vronski Feint thing Krum can do,' he said. 'We told him it was too dangerous, didn't we Fred?'
'Course we did,' agreed Fred. 'Never listens, does young Ron.'
Mrs Weasley looked doubtful, but only gave a suspicious. 'Hrrmmm. Be careful, Ron. And hurry up. Its dinner time.' before going back into the house.
'Why'd you say that?' Ron asked when she was gone. 'And why would she go mad? Dad likes Muggles, and they're both always saying how we should all improve wizard-muggle relations.
'Yeah,' said Fred, 'But that was before.'
'Before what?'
George groaned. 'Before You-Know-Who came back, of course! Use your head, Ron.'
Ron frowned. Light was beginning to dawn. 'You mean, because of what happened at the World Cup? With the Death Eaters and those Muggles?'
'Sort of,' Fred said. 'Mostly because, you know, of what happened before. When You-Know-Who was around, the first time. I heard Dad saying they've cancelled some of the Quidditch matches, the ones that had to use Muggle land like the World Cup. Course not everyone believes whats going on, so not that many have been cancelled, but all the same...'
'We don't want to draw attention to any Muggles,' George said.
'Or have them draw attention to us!' Fred added. 'I'd have thought you'd realise that, Ron. Especially with...well, with who your best friend is.'
George nodded. 'Look. Just knock it on the head. Things are going to get weird, and even if we're all being paranoid, any Muggle will notice something. We don't want them getting suspicious.'
Ron didn't say anything, but walked into the house and went straight upstairs to his room, not knowing whether to be angry with the twins or not.
'The way they talk,' he muttered to himself, 'You'd think You-Know-Who was hiding behind a hedge in Ottery-St-Catchpole. Stupid. And anyhow, I'm allowed to have friends. Emmy isn't suspicious of anything!'
If he could have seen what Emmy was writing in her notebook right at that very minute, he might not have been quite so sure.
Mr Weasley was constantly away from home - either working overtime at the Ministry, or visiting old school friends and aquaintances to try to convey to them the seriousness of the situation. He had even replaced the old warding charms around the house and paddock, something he hadn't done since Ron was a baby. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, had more or less put a stranglehold on the Daily Prophet, the main source of news in the wizarding world, to prevent them from telling everyone what had really happened in the past year at Hogwarts. Fudge was still stubbornly refusing to accept that Voldemort had returned, and determined to keep those who did believe it from telling anyone ('Running around causing a panic, I won't have it, I tell you!'). Ron knew that the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Albus Dumbledore, was trying to prepare as many people as possible, and this was why his father was often away from home. Mum wasn't away so often, but she constantly borrowed Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl, to send to her own old school friends, and once or twice a very flustered witch or wizard had Apparated right in their kitchen demanding to be told whether the horrible rumours were all true.
Altogether, the summer had gotten off to a rotten start. To top it all, Ron was worried about Harry. He had no idea why they hadn't been allowed to have Harry to stay with them this summer, but whatever the reason was, he didn't like leaving his friend with the dreadful Dursleys. He had spent an uncomfortable amount of time last term positively detesting Harry, and would have liked to make it up to him with a decent summer for once. Since that didn't look likely, he contented himself with sending Pigwidgeon (whenever he could get him) to Harry's house with letters. It seemed the Dursleys were letting Harry use Hedwig this year, because this time he actually got replies. Harry was having a predictably dreadful summer, but the Dursleys weren't being any more nasty than usual, and Harry in fact suspected that some well-meaning wizard or other had had a quiet word with them. The Dursleys were terrified of full grown wizards. They weren't too happy at being around Harry, come to that. It didn't seem right to Ron, but his mother claimed Dumbledore knew best, so he had given up asking what it was all about.
It hadn't taken much persuasion by the twins to get Ron to go with them into the Muggle village to visit the sweet shop. The twins had an idea for their project, 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes', involving mimicking Muggle sweets to lure in the unsuspecting wizard, and had decided that they needed to buy large quantities of Muggle sweets - for research purposes, of course. The whole idea had been inspired by Harry's cousin Dudley's having 'accidentally' come across a Ton Tongue Toffee last year. Ron thought they were mad, but as buying large quantities of sweets was by no means a bad thing, he went along.
Getting knocked over by a Muggle girl had not been part of the deal...but as she gave him sweets, he wasn't about to complain. For all they lived near a village full of them, and for all Mr Weasley's interest in Muggles, Ron had very rarely actually spoken to one. He knew that a lot of his friends at Hogwarts - in particular one of his best friends, Hermione Granger - were Muggle-born, but he had never really been interested before. Now, however, he began to wonder.
The Muggles knew nothing about Voldemort, or trouble at the Ministry, or the awful death of Cedric Diggory last year. The Muggles didn't know that there was likely to be big trouble, very soon. That was, after all, the main point of the Ministry of Magic. It would make a change, talking to someone who didn't know. He wondered if he would see the Muggle girl - Emmy Harris, her name was - again, she had been friendly enough.
He didn't actually see Emmy again for almost a week. He had gone for a walk to escape the gaggle of women who had turned up that morning and were sitting talking to Mrs Weasley in the kitchen about You-Know-Who, Harry, Cedric, and all kinds of unpleasant stuff. He thought about rooting out the twins for a game in the meadow, but they were closeted in their room - probably working on more of their positively dangerous sweets - and wouldn't come out ('Go away Ron, unless you want us to try some of this on you!').
So Ron found himself out in the lane, kicking at stones and utterly bored. A little way down the lane from the house, he spotted something leaning against a hedge and as he came closer, he realised it was a Muggle bicycle. Nothing near as good as a broomstick, of course, but Ron eyed it interestedly. He had never had a go on a bicycle.
'Oh, not again!' he heard someone say from over the hedge. Peering through, he saw Emmy Harris, holding a little notebook in her hand, an annoyed expression on her face. She didn't see him, but made a mark in the notebook, turned slightly, and determinedly paced forward. After about six paces, she turned and almost scurried back again before stopping herself short with a muttered 'Argh! Six? Is that it?'
Ron frowned. Muggles really were weird. What on earth was she doing in the middle of a field? Measuring it? Well, who knew what Muggle schools made a person do over the holidays? Scrambling through the hedge, he called out, 'Hello! Emmy, isn't it?'
She saw him, and for a moment he could have sworn she looked guilty, but then she smiled and nodded. 'Yes. And you're Ron, right?'
'Yeah,' he answered, feeling a bit awkward. He wondered if he should ask her what she was doing in the field, but then, what if it was something perfectly normal for Muggles? Deciding not to chance it, he tried to make conversation. 'Just...er...out for a walk, you know...'
'Me, too. Well, I brought my bike. I'm working on a kind of map.' She started toward the hedge and pushed her way through it, hissing slightly as her hair caught and pulled. Ron followed and watched with interest as she picked up her bicycle.
'Mum and Dad got me it for my birthday,' she said, misinterpreting his stare. 'Its a good one. They do it every year.' She didn't sound happy about it as she shoved her notebook into her back pocket, and began to push the bike back toward Ottery-St-Catchpole. Ron followed, for want of anything better to do. 'I don't see you in the village much,' Emmy continued.
'No. Well, there are a lot of us...' Ron said, making an excuse quickly. 'We usually make enough noise at home, Mum says.'
'My Mum says I don't make enough noise. Don't know what she expects, though, sending me to Willoughby. They turn out 'young ladies', and 'young ladies' don't make noise,' she said in disgust. 'You get out of the habit after a while.'
Ron laughed. 'Yeah, tell me about it. We've got this caretaker at our school worse than all the teachers put together...well maybe not all the teachers,' he said, remembering Professor Snape, 'But most of them. Takes us a week when we get home to stop tiptoeing around avoiding him and his blasted cat.'
'His cat?' Emmy laughed. 'I do like cats...but they're sly looking things, aren't they, sometimes? Always looking like they know more than they're letting on.'
Ron stopped himself just before he mentioned Crookshanks, who had certainly known more than he was letting on about Ron's old rat, Scabbers. He amended it to, 'Yeah, they do. Friend of mines got a cat that can be a bit creepy.'
'Creepy can be good.'
Ron shuddered. 'Not really. Trust me.'
He walked back to the village with Emmy, talking carefully about school, and parents, and the summer in general. Once or twice he thought he must have said something odd, and once or twice Emmy mentioned something about which he knew absolutely nothing, but mostly it was oddly normal. When they reached the top of what he assumed was Emmy's street, they paused for a moment.
'Right,' Emmy said slightly awkwardly. 'Thanks for walking back with me.'
'S'okay,' Ron replied, shrugging. Then he noticed something on the ground. 'Hey. You dropped your notebook.' He bent down to pick it up.
'No! Don't!' Emmy almost yelled, and scooped up the little book quickly before he could get close to it.
'I wasn't going to steal it or anything!' Ron said in an offended voice. 'Its only a notebook.'
Emmy flushed bright red. 'I know. I'm sorry. Its just...private. I write stuff. Like a diary, you know?'
Ron opened his mouth to say that he had a very low opinion of diaries, but realised that he could hardly mention his sister's having been possessed by one, and only said, 'Oh. Right.'
Over the next few days, he met up with Emmy a few times. She dragged one of her old bicycles out of her garage when he admitted to not having one, and Ron spent an enjoyable (if a bit embarrassing) time trying to ride it without falling off. Sometimes, he didn't even think of You-Know-Who until he got back home. One day when he and Emmy had just gotten back from a bike ride (during which Ron had excelled himself by only falling off once) Emmy waved at someone across the street and said to Ron. 'Aren't those your brothers?'
Ron glanced to where she had pointed and groaned. 'Yeah. I bet Mum sent them to get me. I said I'd be back ages ago.'
He said goodbye and ran over to join the twins, who were giving him identical odd looks. 'Don't start,' he growled as he passed them, and stalked off on the way home.
When they reached The Burrow, Ron was about to go in the front door when Fred called him back.
'Hey, Ron. Wait a minute. What do you think you're up to?'
'None of your business,' Ron said, annoyed.
'Mum'll go mad when she finds out,' Fred said, sounding thoroughly amused.
'You show her your wand yet?' asked George.
'Shut up,' Ron muttered. 'Anyway, why should Mum go mad? Its not as if-'
'Hello Mum,' George said, raising his eyebrows at Ron.
Mrs Weasley was standing behind Ron. 'Why should I go mad about what?' she asked. Ron turned back toward her, feeling slightly sick.
'Er...nothing, Mum,' he tried desperately. To his surprise, George jumped in.
'Ron almost fell off his broomstick, trying that Vronski Feint thing Krum can do,' he said. 'We told him it was too dangerous, didn't we Fred?'
'Course we did,' agreed Fred. 'Never listens, does young Ron.'
Mrs Weasley looked doubtful, but only gave a suspicious. 'Hrrmmm. Be careful, Ron. And hurry up. Its dinner time.' before going back into the house.
'Why'd you say that?' Ron asked when she was gone. 'And why would she go mad? Dad likes Muggles, and they're both always saying how we should all improve wizard-muggle relations.
'Yeah,' said Fred, 'But that was before.'
'Before what?'
George groaned. 'Before You-Know-Who came back, of course! Use your head, Ron.'
Ron frowned. Light was beginning to dawn. 'You mean, because of what happened at the World Cup? With the Death Eaters and those Muggles?'
'Sort of,' Fred said. 'Mostly because, you know, of what happened before. When You-Know-Who was around, the first time. I heard Dad saying they've cancelled some of the Quidditch matches, the ones that had to use Muggle land like the World Cup. Course not everyone believes whats going on, so not that many have been cancelled, but all the same...'
'We don't want to draw attention to any Muggles,' George said.
'Or have them draw attention to us!' Fred added. 'I'd have thought you'd realise that, Ron. Especially with...well, with who your best friend is.'
George nodded. 'Look. Just knock it on the head. Things are going to get weird, and even if we're all being paranoid, any Muggle will notice something. We don't want them getting suspicious.'
Ron didn't say anything, but walked into the house and went straight upstairs to his room, not knowing whether to be angry with the twins or not.
'The way they talk,' he muttered to himself, 'You'd think You-Know-Who was hiding behind a hedge in Ottery-St-Catchpole. Stupid. And anyhow, I'm allowed to have friends. Emmy isn't suspicious of anything!'
If he could have seen what Emmy was writing in her notebook right at that very minute, he might not have been quite so sure.