A/N Ok, well I've made some sort of massive mistake. FYI, the timelines are all off, don't try to match them up. It gave me something of a migraine when I attempted to do it. For the Weasley's, the day Molly noticed Ginny's hair was before Ron fell out the tree. Hermione's call and trip were on the same day. Harry's finding out about his stay with Aunt Marge happened before his trip to the Granger house, and the conversation he had with Petunia was a flashback that had happened earlier that summer. Ack, now I've gone and confused everyone! I'll try to fix it all so everyone is passing time at the same rate. Not this chapter, but the next one. I send great and countless apologies for being such a bad author!!
Chapter 5: Unexpected SurprisesHarry watched with trepidation as the doorknob turned. The door began to crack, but just as suddenly, it was quickly shut again. A small voice could be heard coming form the inside.
"Who's there?" it squeaked. It could was barely audible from behind the thick wooden doors.
How was he supposed to answer this question? If he said Harry, he was quite certain they person at the door would have no idea who he was. It was apparently not Hermione, and he had never really heard her parents, but he assumed they didn't sound like a six-year-old.
"It's a friend from Hermione's school," he decided to reply, "Harry Potter."
Quite abruptly, the door swung open to reveal a small boy in pajamas. They were bright green and had an image of Batman on the front. "Mum says I'm not to open the door to strangers," he announced, still holding the door open widely.
Harry was baffled. "Then why did you open it to me? I certainly don't know you," he added frankly.
The boy looked up to speak with Harry. His forest green eyes were very serious. "Because you're from Hermione's school."
Harry didn't have time to ponder this odd answer. Hermione's name immediately reminded him of the reason why he had knocked in the first place. "Er-," he started, "this might sound rather weird, but does Hermione, by any chance, live here?"
When the boy shook his head, sending his brown curls flying around, Harry felt his heart sink to his feet. His distress must have been evident on his face however, for the boy said more.
"I'm Luke, Hermione's cousin. She doesn't live here, but I do," he said, visibly trying to appease Harry's suffering. But it didn't have the effect that he expected it to, for all Harry did as say:
"Well, thanks Luke. I'll be going now." And he turned and began to walk back down the path leading to the street.
"Wait!" cried Luke, running out the house after Harry, "I know something!"
"What do you know?" said Harry without turning, trying to be polite, but he was too put out to really care.
"I know about Hermione!" cried the little boy loudly, "I know she's a witch!"
That got Harry's attention. He looked around to see if anyone had heard, but the street was deserted as it had been before, save for the occasional passing car. "What do you mean?" Harry responded warily, not letting on if Luke suspicions were correct or not.
"You're from her school, aren't you?" Luke confirmed. His voice was a little shaky. He was nervous, wondering if he shouldn't have been so quick to blurt out his secret. What would happen now?
Much to his relief, Harry nodded slowly and Luke let out a large sigh. "What do you know about it?" asked Harry, speaking very quietly.
"Not very much," Luke admitted. "But I suppose that's better than nothing, I'm not even supposed to know anything!" he said proudly.
"Is there anywhere where we could talk about this, perhaps?" asked Harry. "Not out here, in the open?" he was curious to hear what this little boy, Hermione's cousin, knew about magic and whatnot. It would take his mind off of his disappointment for the time being, if nothing else.
"Oh, that's right," squeaked Luke. "This is supposed to be a big secret, isn't it?" Harry almost laughed out loud at him, but managed to keep it in when he realized he was being completely serious about his realization. "Well," said Luke, after a few moments thought, "Mum is on a shopping trip and Dad's gone into the office. But Maggie, that's my nanny, is home. We could go in the backyard," he suggested, looking up hopefully.
"Will she mind that I'm there?" Harry asked. "I'm still a stranger, after all," he reminded him.
"She won't even notice. I have two little sisters- they're twins," Luke explained. "Patty and Portia. They keep her so busy usually I'm alone anyways."
That satisfied Harry. They began to walk to the backyard, Luke leading the way. Every once in a while, he would look back, as if checking to see if Harry was still there. Harry was having a hard time stifling his laughter. So far, Hermione's young cousin seemed to not like Hermione herself at all.
As they turned around back, Harry saw the house was even more impressive from behind. There was a large porch attached to the back of the house, and a gazebo situated in one corner. He thought there was an in-ground Jacuzzi right off the porch, but he wasn't sure. He was being led in the opposite direction, toward a small wooden swingset. Luke climbed into the seat of one of the swings, and Harry sat down in the other.
"Blimey," said Luke in awe after Harry was seated. "You're a wizard, aren't you?"
Harry finally let himself chuckle. "Yes, I am." But his curiosity finally got the better of him, and he asked Luke a question. "How do you know about all this?"
Luke smiled, evidently proud of his knowledge. "I'm not supposed to know," he said again, "but Aunt Patricia and Uncle Thomas are awful bad a hiding secrets. From me, at least. But mostly, Hermione tells me stories when she baby-sits. They're about a magical school named Hogwarts, and sometimes about a bad guy named…Well, he never has a name. I always thought that was a little odd."
Harry sighed, "He has a name all right. I suppose Hermione just doesn't want to say it either," he guessed.
"What is it, what is it then?" asked Luke impatiently, bouncing up and down in the seat of the swing. "She told me hundreds of stories about these things, but I'd love to know the bad guys name!"
"Voldemort," Harry answered quickly. The name never held the fear for him as it did for others. "But how did you figure out her stories were really true?"
"I really didn't know, until last year," Luke said, "But then one day I was playing in Hermione's room- it always bothers her greatly when you disorganize her things," he added, a hint of mischievousness in his eyes, "And I found he scrapbook. I just decided to open it up and I found all sorts of things!"
"Like what?" Harry pressed. This was really interesting, actually. Either that or he was so desperate to hear from his friends that he resorted to tales told by a six-year-old.
"A letter, from Hogwarts, saying she'd been accepted. Moving pictures!" he said excitedly, squirming in his seat again. "And letters. Tons and tons of letters. From Ron, Ginny and Harry." Suddenly, he stopped talking. "Blimey," he said for the second time. His eyes were full of admiration. "You're that same Harry, aren't you!"
"Yes," said Harry, not making the same connection the boy had yet.
"You're friends with Hermione!" he said, becoming more excited.
"Right again," Harry said, still not catching on.
"And one in the same as the Harry that defeated Voldemort!" Ah. Now Harry understood what Luke was on about.
"Yes," he admitted sullenly. "One in the same."
Luke picked up on his lack of enthusiasm. "You don't sound very happy about it," he noted.
"It's just," Harry sighed, "It hadn't been a very good thing lately. Not me, not Voldemort, not anything. I can't even talk to Hermione, or Ron."
"Well of course you can," said Luke matter-of-factly.
"Can what?" said Harry, still sounding depressed.
"Talk to Hermione. I really wouldn't know about Ron," he answered.
"How?" Harry said, brightening up. "I haven't received any owls, and that's the only way to communicate."
"Of course it's not," retorted Luke, as though he was talking to someone much younger. "You could walk over there, for instance."
Harry shook his head. "I don't know where Hermione lives," he said. "At first, I thought this was her house."
"She lives right round the corner," Luke informed Harry. "No use going there, of course. She's visiting Bulgaria right now." Luke giggled. "To see her boyfriend."
Harry wasn't aware that Hermione was visiting Krum in Bulgaria. Why hadn't she owled and told him? Admittedly, his own owls had been rather short. He wasn't hadn't been in any mood to write lately, or talk even. This was most definitely the longest conversation he'd had since he left Hogwarts. "Well then how would I talk with her then?" he asked irritably, more upset with the fact he hadn't known Hermione's whereabouts than with Luke.
"I forgot you're a wizard," Luke said absentmindedly, getting out of the swing seat and beginning to stroll towards the house.
Harry jumped out of his seat as well and jogged a few stapes to catch up with Luke. "What in the world ahs that got to do with anything?"
"It means you don't know how to use a phone, I guess," he said.
Harry was indignant. "Of course I do!" he responded. "Not all wizards are completely ignorant of Muggle things."
"I hear Ron is."
"Ron," Harry stated, "is different. He grew up around all magic, all the time. I live with Muggles."
"I'm a Muggle," said Luke, and he didn't seem to be proud of it. "Really though, I hope maybe I could turn out to be a wizard. I'd like to be something like Ron when I grow up."
Now Harry was rather offended. "Nothing like me?" he asked, wanting to know why his best friend had been picked over him. He wasn't jealous or anything of the sort, just curious. And perhaps a little put out, after all, he was acquainted with Luke, and Ron had never even heard of him.
"No!' said the boy surprised. When Harry didn't respond, he tried to explain further. "There's nothing wrong with you, of course," he pacified Harry's hurt pride, "But you don't seem like a very fun person to be. You're always battling Voldemort, and never have time to live."
Luke's candid statement stopped Harry in his tracks. But the seven-year-old (He was small for his age) was oblivious to his frankness, as most children are, and kept right on talking. "Stay here," he ordered Harry, failing to see he had stopped walking several steps ago. "I'll be right back."
Harry was left with his thoughts. Never had time to live? He let the words slowly sink in, realizing what they meant. And as the minutes passed, he realized he agreed. Just as he was deciding what this meant, Luke came running back out of the house. Harry snapped out of his reverie. He hadn't even noticed Luke had gone inside. But here he was, impatiently tugging on Harry's arm, trying to get his attention.
"Here," he said, stuffing something into Harry's hand. Harry unfolded the crumpled piece of paper. Written on it, in a childish and hurried scrawl was a very long number, separated by dashes. He looked down at Luke for an explanation.
"It's a phone number," Luke clarified. "Hermione's! Now you can call her!" he announced, obviously pleased with himself. "And don't worry, she knows how to work a phone. She's not like Ron." He giggled to himself. Hermione must have told him the story of Ron trying to call the Dursley's, he noted absentmindedly.
"Thanks," he said, after it was apparent Luke was waiting for him to say something. "Really, I mean it. Thanks a lot." His gratitude earned a large smile from the by, revealing several missing teeth.
"You have to go now though," said Luke, still grinning. "Maggie says it's almost time for lunch, and I don't know what she would do if she found you out here."
"Okay," said Harry. "I'll leave now. Thanks again," he said to Luke. He started to stride off, out of the backyard.
"Will you come visit again, Harry?" Luke called after his retreating form.
"Sure," answered Harry back. After a moment, he realized he actually meant it. "And I really hope you are a wizard too," he said sincerely. "You'd make a very good one."
If he had turned around, he would have seen the biggest smile ever light up Luke's face and the admiration glow even stronger in his eyes.
*****
"He'll be fine, Mrs. Weasley," reassured a St. Mungo's doctor, Dr. Overhill. And surprisingly, the fretting Mrs. Weasley was reassured. Possibly because her red hair reminded her of her family, but no matter what it was, the doctor was thankful the woman finally had clamed down a bit. She had been worrying the whole staff in the minor injuries wing for the last two hours, hovering over them and trying to tell them how to run their jobs. At first it was amusing, but then it became downright maddening. Dr. Overhill had been sent as a delegate and somewhat of a ploy to calm Mrs. Weasley down and keep her out of the doctor's hair.
"Am I allowed to go in there yet?" she questioned, depositing her wand into a pocket in her cloak. "It's almost been and hour since I've seen my baby!" she wailed, tears moistening her eyes.
Quickly, Dr. Overhill tried to get the situation back under control. "Certainly you're allowed to see your own son!" she cooed, gently grabbing Mrs. Weasley by the elbow and began to lead her through the hallways. "I'm taking you to him now, he's just fine, you'll see." Soon, but not quickly enough for either woman, they reached the room where Ron was laying in a bed, as a patient.
"Oh, Ronald!" cried Mrs. Weasley as she rushed in. She found a chair in the small room and pulled it eight up next to the bed. "How are you feeling, dear?" she asked lovingly.
Ron made a face. "Fine, Mum, really." But he could see this didn't convince his Mother. Concern was practically written all over her face. "Honestly, Mum, I'm none worse for the wear. All I've got are a few scratches and broken arm."
Those were not the right words to pacify Mrs. Weasley. "A broken arm?" she cried. "Let me see," she ordered.
Obediently, Ron held up his right arm, which had on it a plaster cast up to his elbow. "A cast?" gasped Mrs. Weasley. "Why didn't they just heal it right up?"
"I'm afraid I can answer that," interjected a tall man with long blonde hair. He was dressed in the dark blue cloaks of the staff and had a long stride as he entered the room carrying a clipboard.
It was to that clipboard he consulted when he answered Mrs. Weasley's question. "There are a number of factors in that, Mrs. Weasley," he started. "For one, Ronald here also has seemed to have suffered from an extremely mild concussion- No, don't worry Mrs. Weasley," he said, observing the stricken look on her face. "No long lasting harm done from that. He will have a rather nasty headache that no charms will help, but there is some Muggle medicine we have that may lessen the pain." He held out a small bottle to Mrs. Weasley, who was beginning to look faint. She took it without speaking and deposited it in her large black handbag. "Now," he started again, "Then we went to work on his cuts and bruises, most of which are nicely healed. It wasn't until then both he and the staff realized his arm was injured. We immediately began to check on the damage and saw that it was rather extensive- two large, clean-cut breaks, and a number of small fractures. We were able to heal them all but one, a medium sized one near a large blood vessel. Unfortunately, since Ronald also suffered the very slight concussion, the vessel was inflamed, trying to rush blood to the brain, and we dared not use any magic near in fear that it would burst. So, we decided the best way to handle it was to slap a Muggle cast on it and let it heal itself!" he finished cheerily.
He had lost Molly long ago back in the medical jargon, but Ron had followed him and found it very interesting. "I never dreamed of this happening," he said in disbelief. "I'm rather pleased," he confessed to his mother and the doctor. "It's kind of interesting."
"Yes, well," said the doctor, his cheerfulness gone and a hurried note was now detectable in his voice. "You two are free to leave. You can settle the bill at the front desk and there is a fireplace down the hall from there. The floo powder is on us," he informed them, and quickly strode out the room, quickly as he had come.
"I suppose we should go now," said Molly, warily regarding Ron's bright green cast a foreign object. "Can you walk?"
"Of course, Mum," said Ron peevishly. He wasn't an invalid, after all. "I'm not dying or anything." He hoisted himself out of bed and gave his mother a sharp look. She realized he was wearing an open-backed hospital cloak and let herself out of the room. Boys, she thought crossly.
A few minutes later, Ron emerged, holding his cast a little bit away from his body. "It's scratchy," he explained to Molly. They made their way to the front desk, with Ron giving directions.
"That will be five galleons and two sickles," said the young witch working the front desk.
Molly blushed. "Put it on her tab, please," she said quietly.
"What'd you say?" asked the witch loudly.
"I said," Molly repeated a little more loudly, "Put it on our tab."
Ron turned away. He was also red up to the roots of his hair. He had always been embarrassed by their financial situation. He wandered off a bit to look at the magazines that were on a table in the waiting room.
"I'm not sure if I can do that, Ma'm," said the witch, looking at Molly rather suspiciously.
"You can," said Molly, becoming more and more embarrassed by the moment. "My husband works for the Ministry. Arthur Weasley. If something is wrong, you can take it up with him." Evidently, Molly had been through this before.
"Alright," said the witch reluctantly. She wrote it down on a piece of paper and looked hard at Mrs. Weasley, still trying to decide whether a trick was being pulled on her or not. Molly just stared back. "Well," she said, withdrawing a small pouch from a drawer behind the desk, "here's your powder. The fireplace is just 'round the corner."
"Thank you," said Molly, accepting the pouch. She called Ron and they walked around the corner to the large fireplace with its roaring flames. It was taller than either or them, and about 5 feet wide. She opened the pouch and tossed all of it's contents in. Straight away, it turned a bright green and the flames roared even higher. "To the Burrow!" she called once she stepped in. Ron followed right behind her, lading painfully on his arm once he arrived home.
TBC….
A/N: So you've made it to the end! Good job! Now go back and review. ;)
More clarification:
The hospital scene is the same day as when Ron fell out of the tree, which is the same say as Harry meets Luke. Got it? Probably not, but good luck anyways!
I know I made it seem like Ron's fall was a tumble to his death, and it was. What really happened will be revealed in upcoming chapters.
Speaking of which, this was a VERY long one, for me. 3,300 words of actual story! Would you like them to be this length, or shorter? Please let me know!
Xavien: No, he wasn't setting her up, but there will more problems with dear old Krum…stay tuned! And as for Ron, it was an arm, not a leg. But there will also be more found in his situation as well…I do drag out things, don't I?
Neonfizz: If I told you, wouldn't that rather ruin the story? But if you insist on knowing, *(SPOILER: DON'T READ IF YOU WANT TO BE SURPRISED!!!!!!!), as like some people have already guessed, they are the visions Harry should be receiving but somehow Ginny's got them instead.
Thanks also to Sarah-Anna. I appreciate everyone who reads the stories, but it's the reviews that keep me going!
Also, an improved version of this story has been posted at Fiction Alley, under The Dark Arts and the pen name Kara. I'll have a link in my profile. Go check it out!