Harry incinerated his alarm clock during its attempt to wake him up that morning. He'd only been asleep for a few hours, but he was already late for morning practice. Oliver was going to kill him.
Rewinding that thought, Harry was amused. It was a sign of how simple his life had become that the anger of his Quidditch coach seemed a more real danger than death by enraged vampires. In his youth, he probably wouldn't have thought that way.
Well, he wasn't in his youth anymore. He showered quickly, before pulling on his uniform and Disapparating directly to the pitch. He usually left his flat on foot, in case he decided to come back by way of the city. He didn't want to be obviously coming back after not having been seen leaving, but he didn't have time to change into Muggle clothes this morning, let alone to travel to Diagon Alley to Disapparate from there.
He appeared into the pitch in the middle of a pouring rain. He had a sense that the day wasn't going to improve. Charming his glasses quickly, he hunted for Oliver; he knew that the coach would still expect his players to practice, whatever the weather might be.
He found Oliver already in the air. The coach was shouting, "Horos! Shelby! Keep those bludgers flying. You have to hit them harder in this rain! Price! Don't be shy of the Quaffle, you need to keep trying to get it through. It's hard for the Keeper to follow it in this weather." Then he saw Harry. "Potter! Get the Snitch out of the box. You'll be practicing an extra hour today for being late. Shelby! Throw a few of those Bludgers at Potter, to make sure he notices."
Harry nodded. It was no more than he expected. He released the Snitch, and waited a few minutes to let it really get going.
The rain eventually died down. He hadn't really kept track of how many times he'd caught the Snitch before he was alone on the field. He was in his zone, totally occupied with catching and finding the Snitch. He threw in the occasional Wronski feint when it was hiding too well, but didn't look to see if anyone had noticed.
As he caught the Snitch after a breathtaking two hundred foot dive, he was surprised to hear applause. He normally didn't even register the crowd's reaction, but the silence of the now sunny afternoon made the contrast noticeable, at least now that the Snitch was in his hands.
He turned towards the stands, and saw a welcome, if totally unexpected, sight. His own personal cheering section had arrived. Ron was there, dressed in unassuming black robes. He flew swiftly over to him. "It's been a while, Ron, what brings you here?" he called, still perched on his Firebolt.
"Business, or at least that's the excuse I'm using today," Ron called back.
"Let me ask Oliver if I can take a break, and I'll be down to visit," Harry looked around for the coach, but didn't see him.
Ron chuckled. "He left about a half-hour ago. He said you could stop whenever you noticed there was no one else here."
Harry shook his head, "I'll be right down then". He'd been entirely wrapped up in his own little world, unaware of anything that wasn't immediately life threatening. Which brought him back to thinking about his houseguests. Should he tell Ron that his brother had returned - at least most of him?
He wasn't sure, but he could stall that decision for a few minutes. He flew down to the locker room, and stowed his broom. He rinsed under the shower quickly before pulling on a clean set of clothes. He would have to remember to bring an extra set from home again, to replace these.
Leaving the locker room, Harry was struck by how completely normal his life had become. He spent almost every day the same way -- rushing to work, practicing all day, catching some dinner, and then walking around the city for a while. He had been excited, on becoming a wizard, at the ability to stretch out of the ordinary, but since, he'd realized that he had just substituted a new definition of ordinary.
Ron was still standing in the bleachers, waiting patiently. Patience was something that had come with great difficulty to Ron, earned during his last days at Hogwarts. Harry knew that beneath the placid face of his friend was still someone capable of a searing temper, but he'd learned to hide it.
The friends greeted each other with a firm handshake and some simple pleasantries. "Harry, I wasn't entirely joking about being here on business. There was some magic in London last night, a few incendiary charms and some other, more unique spells. One of them was the one you had Hermione teach you last year, remember? There were also three bodies found. Do you know anything about it?"
Harry had been hoping that he could stall telling Ron about Charlie a bit longer, but he foresaw difficulties with this, especially as his open face gave testimony to the fact that he knew more than he was letting on.
Ron interpreted his silence, and looked concerned. "What's going on, mate? We've all been worried about you. Mum's hurt that you didn't even respond to her invitation to dinner tomorrow night. Are you... involved... with anything I should know about?"
Harry saw an out. "Nothing I can explain here, Ron. Is the invitation still open tomorrow night?"
Ron nodded, pleasantly surprised. "Mum said to tell you it was, if I saw you."
"Well, I'll explain it then. Do you think she'd mind if I brought someone?"
Ron lifted an eyebrow. Harry thought they probably trained him in how to do that in Auror school -- it certainly looked like something out of a Muggle detective show. "You're kidding, right? Mum would be overjoyed to see you with someone. And I think Luna would, too. She's getting tired of us being the young couple in the Weasley house."
"Don't get your hopes up. You'll still be ickle Ronniekins to the rest of us," Harry chided his friend, who was almost a foot taller than him. "Besides, this isn't that kind of guest. If he'll come..." Harry almost laughed at the stricken look on Ron's face, but he hurriedly corrected the impression. "No, it's not like that. This is a friend of mine who's in some trouble, and I think it would be best if he explained it himself."
Ron nodded. "I can see that, but do we have to involve the whole family? Mum's still shaken up over Charlie, I don't want her to think the rest of us are into anything dangerous."
Harry shook his head. "No, she needs to hear this. The problem concerns a Weasley, I think you all need to know about it."
"If it's that serious, don't you think you should give me something more to go on?"
"I'll tell you everything tomorrow, OK? So, are Fred and George going to be there?" he asked casually.
"Should be."
"How about Ginny? Is she still going out with Malfoy?"
"As far as I know. She doesn't talk about it with me, much, though."
Harry fell silent, and Ron smirked. "Was there someone else you were going to ask about?"
Harry hesitated, and then asked, despite knowing that he was just giving Ron ammunition. "And Hermione?"
"She's doing pretty well. She was dating a Professor from Oxford for a while, but they broke it off."
"Is she coming tomorrow?"
Ron was trying really hard to draw this out, Harry could tell, and he felt like slugging him. Ron had been trying since Hogwarts to throw his friends together, but it generally had the opposite effect.
Ron shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure. I think you'll just have to wait and find out." He smiled, continuing, "See you then." With a wave of his wand, Ron Disapparated, leaving Harry wondering if he could get away with slugging his friend tomorrow, or if the shock on his face when Charlie walked in would be good enough.
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Ron was glad that Harry didn't know where he was Disapparating to. If he had, he probably would have slugged him. He was in the alley behind Hermione's flat, which they'd warded with a series of Everyday Charms so that no one would see those using it for Apparating.
He knew that it irritated her when he dropped in without calling first, but he thought she'd understand. Or if not, well, he could probably dodge any curse she'd throw at him.
Ron rapped on her door.
A distracted call came from inside: "Yes, who is it?"
Ron tried to make his voice sound deeper. "I'm looking for some information on spew. Could you help me?"
He heard an exasperated growl from inside. Hermione pulled the door open, not looking outside yet. She seemed to still be staring at something back inside the flat. "I'm glad to have more interest, but I must insist that you pronounce it as S.P.E.W., pronouncing each letter in turn. We'll never be able to accomplish our goals unless..." she finally turned. "Ron!"
She looked furious, and he smiled smugly. He loved that he could still get her truly irritated. It was something that had drawn him close to Luna, back at Hogwarts. Luna was capable of driving Hermione to distraction without even trying, and combining her efforts with Ron's had only made sense. "Oh, just get in here!"
She tugged him inside, and Ron brushed off his robes, as if she'd gotten something on them. Her home was a letter from the Ministry waiting to happen, surrounded by Muggles, but packed with unemployed House-Elves. Hermione ran a sort of halfway house, where she helped take care of servants who had recently been let go while they adapted to their new situation. "Some welcome this is," he said, looking at her scowling face.
"Oh, like you have room to complain! So, what brings you here?"
"I wondered if you had reconsidered about Mum's invitation to dinner tomorrow."
"Ron, I really appreciate how she keeps trying to include me, but I'm so busy..."
Ron interrupted, "Harry's coming. He's bringing a friend."
She stopped talking. Ron committed this moment to memory - it was very rare that anyone managed to quiet Hermione. "Really?"
One of the elves piped up. "Harry? Harry Potter?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, now you've got them started."
All of the house-elves were now talking at once, while Hermione tried to get them to settle down. It sounded like Harry was one of their folk heroes, probably due to his near legendary rescue of Dobby.
Ron decided that the time had come to make his exit. "So, we'll see you tomorrow evening then?"
"Yes, yes, of course," she called back.
Mission accomplished, he thought to himself, and Disapparated.