Harry woke up early the next morning, despite the late time that he gotten
into
bed, and the small hangover that was nudging him in his temples. There was
one
thought that kept going through his mind: he and Ron needed a house, and
they
needed it soon. Once he motivated himself to get out from under the
covers, he
went over to wake Ron. Harry could tell that Ron was going to have a major
hangover. He ran to the bathroom to get him a drink of water and massaged
his
back before he got up. Ron was still very slow in moving, like he had to
think
about every motion before he made it. Harry decided it would be best for
Ron to
stay in bed. He thought he'd steal downstairs and make off with something
to
eat before he could be seen. Unfortunately, as soon as he entered the
kitchen,
Mrs. Weasley spotted him while she was frying sausages, scrambling eggs,
and
making hot cakes.
"Harry, dear, did you sleep well? Arthur and I were afraid we'd kept you up. The Diggorys and the Shacklebolts didn't leave until almost two o'clock this morning."
"No, I slept just fine, thank you," Harry said in a hurry. He grabbed a plate of sausages and eggs and a copy of the latest Daily Prophet and headed back upstairs.
Ron was sitting up now, though barely, and clutching his head.
"Why did you let me drink so much?" he moaned to Harry.
"I didn't let you. You did this to yourself," Harry answered with a chuckle. "Here, I brought you something to eat," he said, presenting Ron with the sausages and eggs.
"Ugh. I don't even want to look at that. Get me another glass of water."
Harry ran down the hall to the bathroom again and returned a few minutes later with another glass of water. Ron gulped it down.
"Look, I've got today's Daily Prophet. Thought we'd look through the real estate section," Harry said.
"You'll have to do the looking," Ron groaned. "My eyes won't focus on anything."
Harry sat down on the bed next to Ron and opened the paper with a snap. He scanned down through the entries until he came to a particular one.
"Hey, Ron, how does this sound? 'Two bedrooms, two baths, eat-in kitchen, large living room, large backyard,' Harry read. "It's just outside of London, and the price isn't too bad."
Before Ron could reply, there were two loud cracks, and Fred and George appeared.
"Don't you two ever knock?" Ron complained.
"Nope," said Fred.
"What are you reading?" asked George, seeing Harry with the newspaper.
"We're looking for a house," Harry answered.
" 'We'?" Fred wondered.
"Well, I mean I am. Ron is just helping," Harry covered. He blushed slightly and looked back down to the paper, missing the smirk traded by Fred and George.
"How're you feeling today, Ron?" asked George, slapping Ron hard in the back. Ron gave a wince and put his hands to his head again.
"Don't do that! I feel like crap, thank you very much. I don't know what you put in those drinks."
"How dare you think we'd tamper with anything? We're men of integrity! " Fred said with mock indignation.
"So, did you and Harry have a good time last night?" George asked. "We noticed you left early. Was anything wrong?" he snickered.
Harry's face pinked and Ron gave George a glare. "No. Nothing was wrong. We were just tired, right Harry?"
"Right," Harry answered quickly.
"Sure you were," drawled Fred. "Hey, are you going to eat these?" he asked, gesturing to the plate of untouched sausages and eggs.
"No, help yourself," said Ron, waving his hand in the direction on the plate.
"Where're you moving to, Harry?" asked Fred, his voice muffled by a mouthful of sausage.
"Don't know yet," Harry supplied. "Wherever I find the right place, I guess."
"There's a flat in Diagon Alley, not far from our shop. It's a fairly nice place and the rent's not too bad," Fred informed him.
"Really?" asked Harry. "Maybe we, I mean, I should take a look at it."
"Drop by on Monday and we'll take you to it."
"Ok, great."
"Fred, don't you think it's awfully quiet down in the kitchen? I think Mum needs a little excitement. Want to pay her a visit?"
"Absolutely!" cheered Fred. They left Ron's room, headed downstairs, no doubt to torture Mrs. Weasley.
Harry returned to the paper. "Here's another one that sounds good. It's got two bedrooms, one bath with a large shower-we could put that to use, don't you think?"
Ron laughed. "No doubt. Owl the realtor and set us up an appointment to look at it."
Before he knew it, Harry had made arrangements to look at a house every evening for the next week.
They passed the rest of the afternoon in Ron's room, thankfully not bothered by anyone. Harry looked through the whole real estate section, circling several that he thought he and Ron might be interested in. He wasn't so much concerned about the price as he was finding the right place. He really wanted a place he could finally call his own. Hogwarts had been great, and so was the Burrow, but they weren't actually his, and he always knew that eventually he'd have to leave.
Sunday was spent with the whole Weasley family for the requisite Sunday dinner. They ate out in the garden once again because the kitchen was so cramped.
From the other end of the table, Bill turned to Harry and said, "So, I hear you're looking for a place to live."
Harry cast a glance at Fred and George who were snickering. News sure does travel fast around here, he thought to himself. "I'm in the market for one, you might say," he answered.
Mrs. Weasley dropped her fork with a loud clatter. "Harry, you're leaving us?"
Uh-oh, thought Harry. He hadn't bargained on this. "I'm not leaving you, Mrs. Weasley. I just don't want to be a bother any longer than I have to."
"Dear, you're no bother at all! Arthur and I love having you around," she said, turning to her husband. "With Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George gone, the house is much quieter than we're used to. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ginny's eyes jumping back and forth from him to Ron. He was more than appreciative of Mrs. Weasley's offer, and he didn't quite know how to explain to her the reasons he wanted to leave.
Fred chimed in, "Isn't Ron looking at places with you?"
Harry could have killed him.
"He's only coming along to help me out," Harry answered irritably.
"Hmm," murmured George.
The rest of the dinner was passed, to Harry's relief, with neutral conversation about Quidditch, the newest goings-on at the Ministry, and Ginny's upcoming final year at Hogwarts.
When at last Harry and Ron went upstairs to Ron's room that night, Harry wondered where the weekend had gone. Two days off for every five days worked just didn't seem right. At least they'd be starting practical Auror training tomorrow instead of reading out of those dull textbooks. Of course, for practical training you need practical knowledge, and Harry was more than a little unsure of himself. At least when learning out of the textbooks, if he wrote something stupid, Adeline Monceret was the only one to know about it. If he did something stupid in practical lessons, the whole class would know about it.
He arrived at the Ministry of Magic on Monday morning by himself. After having Mr. Weasley accompany him every morning last week, Harry began to be more comfortable and he told Mr. Weasley this morning to go on ahead and that he'd be there shortly. Harry didn't want everyone thinking that he was still a child who couldn't leave the house without a parent, but he was secretly quite relieved to know that Mr. Weasley was only just down the hall if he ever needed anything.
Most of the students were already in the room when Harry arrived. He grabbed the seat in front of Neville, in which he had been sitting the previous week, and as he sat down, noticed Neville had his right arm in a cast.
"Neville?" Harry asked. "What happened?"
"I was climbing the wall trellis to feed my venomous tentacula when it grabbed me by the leg and threw me against the house. Gran said it served me right, keeping a plant like that, so to teach me a lesson, she only fixed it the Muggle way. I think I know how to fix it myself, but as it's my wand arm that's broken, I didn't want to make anything worse by trying to cast a spell with my left hand."
Harry didn't want to make Neville feel bad, but he made a mental note not to pair up with Neville for any of their practical lessons. There was a loud clanking of heels out in the larger room, and after a moment Adeline entered.
"I trust that you all know we are starting practical training today. There will be a three month trial period, and if you are not found to be proficient after that time, you will be dismissed."
Harry heard Neville give a great gulp behind him. Adeline continued, "Today we will start with learning about, and fighting, dark creatures." The class rustled nervously, but no one spoke.
"We're going to need a lot of space. Please move to the front of the room," she said, as she took out her wand and waved all of the desks and chairs into neat, tightly packed rows against the far wall. She then retrieved something from a cage that looked like a large, gray rock, and placed it in the middle of the floor where all the desks had been.
"This is a Pogrebin. Do not be fooled by its appearance. It is much more dangerous than any of you could imagine." Harry was briefly reminded of the time in his second year when Professor Lockhart warned them of the dangers of Cornish Pixies.
No one, including Harry, seemed to know what it was. Adeline prodded it with her wand. It began to wriggle, just slightly, and upon closer inspection, Harry could detect short, fine hair covering its body.
"I expected a class of Aurors to know what a Pogrebin is," she said angrily. "As it seems none of you were satisfactorily taught.a Pogrebin is native to Russia. It assumes the appearance of a harmless stone, but it has a powerful effect on one's emotions. It will fill you with a sense of hopelessness, and once you collapse from despair, it will attempt to devour you. It is quite like a dementor, but much more dangerous. Dementors you can see and feel. A Pogrebin is very unassuming, and an unsuspecting witch or wizard will not know what it truly is until it is too late."
Harry heard Neville give a frightened gasp from behind him, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little uneasy himself. He would never forget the way he felt in the presence of a dementor. He had learned to fight them, with help from Professor Lupin, but even now, the thought of one made his stomach turn over.
"You will each take a turn with the Pogrebin. You will fight it until you can beat it," said Adeline ominously. "Who wants to go first?"
The whole class hesitated. Adeline scanned their faces, looking for a suitable opponent.
Harry was most relieved when she turned to a brown-haired girl several people to his left and said, "You, there, in the red shirt. Come forward."
The girl walked slowly forward. Her face was full of determination, but her steps were shaky.
"What is your name?" asked Adeline.
"Verona Vanton," said the girl.
"Ok, Vanton, take your turn with the Pogrebin." Adeline motioned for the rest of the class to join her over in a corner, out of the way.
Harry watched as the girl advanced on the Pogrebin. It hardly looked like it moved, but if you watched closely, you could see it shudder or crawl slowly. Verona eyed it warily, her wand out. After just a few minutes, however, she was on her knees, her hands over her face. The Pogrebin crept almost imperceptibly forward. Soon Verona was laid out on her back, the creature nibbling at her leg. Adeline strode forward.
"Demencio!" she yelled. Immediately, the Pogrebin stopped and resumed its stone shape.
Adeline called forward several other people to face the creature. None of them fared very well. She kept having to stop it before it began to chew on the limbs of the students.
"I can see that none of you so far have figured out the way to fight the Pogrebin," she said finally. "It will show you the memories that will devastate you the most. The only way to defeat it is to cast those memories back upon it. If you cast them hard enough, the Pogrebin will not be able to withstand them, and it will combust." She threw a quick look at her watch. "It is time for lunch. I will expect the rest of the class to successfully fight the Pogrebin afterwards. You may go."
The class scampered out of the room. Harry was extraordinarily relieved that he wasn't among the first to have to fight the creature. Now that he knew the spell, he might be able to ward it off before it could start taking pieces out of him.
Hermione met Harry and Neville for lunch in what had become their usual corner table in the cafeteria.
"What happened to you, Neville?" Hermione asked as she placed her tray on the table and sat down next to Harry. Neville told her the same story that he had told Harry about his venomous tentacula.
Hermione tutted her disapproval. "You really ought to be more careful, you know."
"How was your weekend, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to get Hermione off of Neville's back.
"What? Oh, it was ok. Not nearly as exciting as being at work. I caught up on some of my reading. I'm doing an independent study on the largest area with the best homes in which to place house-elves. What did you do all weekend?" Then she added quickly, "Or do I even want to know?"
Harry's face turned a deep red. Neville glanced between the two, totally confused.
"Not what you might think, unfortunately," Harry answered. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley threw a dinner party on Friday. Poor Ron was sick most of the next day. The rest of the weekend was quiet, for a change. Oh, and Ron and I are looking for a house," Harry mentioned quickly, but not before another blush crept into his cheeks.
"Really, Harry? How wonderful! I hope you two find the perfect place!" said Hermione, glowing. Neville continued shifting his eyes from one to the other, looking utterly baffled.
"We're going to see our first one today, after work," he told her. "Fred and George have a flat they wanted to show us, too."
"You'll have to let me know when you find the one you want. Maybe you'd like a house-elf?" she asked. Harry rolled his eyes.
Before he knew it, lunch was over and he and Neville were headed back to the lifts and up to the Auror Headquarters. He saw that the Pogrebin was back in its cage. The desks were still arranged against the far wall, however, so he and Neville joined the rest of the class in the corner. As if right on cue, Adeline arrived shortly after.
"Ok, who wants to take the Pogrebin next?" she asked, without a preamble. A dark-haired boy, a few years older than Harry, stepped forward. He had a little more luck in fighting it than the students had before him. He deflected its advances several times before finally dropping to his knees.
"That wasn't bad, Moore," she said to the boy. "But you ought to be able to fight it all the way. You, in the black shirt, Potter, is it? Come forward."
This is it, Harry thought. Time to make a fool of himself in front of the entire class. He grabbed his wand tightly and walked out to the center of the room. He faced the Pogrebin, waiting for something to happen. For several minutes, it just sat there, still. Eventually, he saw it slinking towards him, just barely. His wand was ready, and he had the spell on the edge of his tongue, ready to blurt it out if the memories became too much. But as it moved closer to him, he felt nothing. It was at his shoes now, but he still felt nothing. Maybe it was like fighting the Imperious Curse, he thought. He simply didn't hear any voices telling him what he should feel. When he saw it trying to nibble at his shoelaces, he casually spoke, "Demencio!" and the creature gave a great lurch and burst into a pile of ashes.
The class gave a collective gasp. Adeline advanced on him quickly. "Where did you learn that?" she demanded.
Harry didn't know what to say. He hadn't learned it anywhere. In fact, this was the first time that he'd ever heard of a Pogrebin.
"I...I don't know," he stammered.
"Well, regardless, that was very well done. If only the rest of the class would be so quick to learn," she scolded, throwing her hand backwards toward the group huddled in the corner. "But now you have demolished my teaching device. While I was sure the class would be able to handle the Pogrebin, I did not count on anyone destroying it."
Harry ducked his head and walked back over to join the rest of the class. Once again, he had managed to call attention to himself without even meaning to. He honestly had no idea what he'd done to the Pogrebin. He just did what his instincts told him to do. Thankfully, the class was dismissed early. Evidently, Adeline didn't have a back up plan.
Harry wasn't in the least bit regretful over having his workday cut short. They not only had a house to see after work, but also the flat Fred had told him about. When he arrived in the fireplace at the Burrow, Ron was waiting for him, looking just as excited as Harry was. The realtor had sent them a Portkey, which was basically just that-a key on a large key chain, reading Regal Realty: Uniting Witches and Wizards with the Houses of their Dreams.
"Ready?" Harry asked.
"You bet," said Ron with a grin. Ron yelled to Mrs. Weasley that he and Harry were going out and they'd be back before too long. They sprinted upstairs to Ron's room and grabbed the Portkey simultaneously. Harry felt the familiar tug behind his navel and in a split second, he and Ron were speeding forward, a blur of colors swirling around them. Harry shut his eyes tightly to avoid getting sick. At last, his feet landed on the ground with a thud.
"Hello, hello! I'm Madame LaMaison. Please, step this way, and I'll show you the house," the realtor greeted them.
Harry and Ron walked slowly behind her. This was a totally new experience for them both. Harry had no doubt that he wanted to be with Ron forever, but buying a house together was still a big step. They had been together for almost two years, and Harry was happier than he'd ever been. He was pretty sure Ron felt the same way, but he didn't want Ron freaking out over making such a commitment.
They walked shakily into the house. It looked like a log cabin. There was wood everywhere-on the walls, on the floors, and on the ceiling. It'll be easy to clean, thought Harry, who had cleaned the Durselys' house enough times to appreciate what a good cleaning included.
"So, which one of you is looking for a house?" asked Madame LaMaison.
Harry almost said, "We both are," but stopped himself and said, "I am."
"Good, good. If you'll look at the living room, you'll see that it's a nice size, plenty of room to entertain. The kitchen is nice, too. It's average-sized, but has state-of-the-art appliances. It's a perfect size for a bachelor like yourself," she said, grinning at Harry.
Harry forcefully returned her smile and walked into the kitchen. Really, the kitchen would be perfect for him and Ron. Neither one of them cooked much, although Harry was much better at it than Ron. Madame LaMaison led them into the bathroom. It was average-sized too, and Harry couldn't help looking at the shower and noticing that two people would be slightly cramped in it. At last she showed them the two bedrooms.
"This first one is basically a guest room," she explained. It was small, and Harry wondered if there would be enough room for a bed and a few other pieces of furniture. It would have to be an awfully small bed, he thought. She then walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. Harry's eyes grew to about twice their normal size. The room was huge. There would no doubt be room for that large feather bed that he wanted. They finished the tour and thanked Madame LaMaison for taking the time to show it to them.
"What did you think?" Harry asked Ron, once Madame LaMaison had left.
"It was nice, for sure," Ron answered. Harry agreed, but thought to himself that it wasn't exactly what he was looking for. It didn't feel like home, and he knew that when they found the right place, he'd recognize it instantly.
The next stop was Fred's and George's joke shop.
"Oi," said George. "Nice to see you Harry. And you too, Ron, I guess." Ron glared.
"Hey, George," answered Harry. "We're here to see the flat. Care to show it to me?"
"Not at all, not at all," said Fred, coming from the back room, his arms loaded with boxes. "Let George and me stock this, and we'll be ready. Just along for the ride are you, Ron?"
"What? Oh.yeah," murmured Ron.
Harry looked around the shop while Fred and George unloaded the contents of the boxes onto the shelves. Harry had to admit that they had done very well for themselves. From what he could tell, they had a very nice income from the shop.
"All done," said George, dusting off his hands. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to Harry and Ron.
Harry and Ron followed Fred and George out the door and down the cobblestone street. A few blocks down and a couple of right turns, and they were standing outside a small apartment complex.
"Fred knows the girl that's selling," said George with a scowl. "That's how he's got the key."
They walked through the front doors and up three flights of stairs before they came to a door off to the right of the landing. Fred fitted the key into the keyhole, and the four of them walked in. It was a studio apartment, and whoever decorated it was no doubt very imaginative. Everything was retro, from the seafoam-green kitchen to the harvest-gold living room furniture. In the space designated for the bedroom was a bed covered in a bright, flower-clad polyester bedspread. Ron let out a snort of laughter.
Harry, trying to be more subtle, said, "Fred, have you, er, seen this place before?"
"Well, yeah, but only in the dark," he answered. George scowled once again.
"I appreciate the time you took to show it to us, but I really don't think this is what I'm looking for," said Harry carefully.
"Don't say that I can blame you," George whispered in his ear. "It's perfectly dreadful."
The house they looked at the next day was in Godric's Hollow. Harry had reservations about it, being that Godric's Hollow was where his parents had lived, but Ron was thoroughly excited about seeing the place. It sounded very nice in the description that Harry had read. They grabbed the Portkey and were instantly swept away, pelting towards their destination. When they arrived in the driveway, Harry craned his head upwards to take in the whole thing. The house was massive. It was easily the biggest house Harry had ever seen. It was all white and huge columns were spanning the whole height of the house. He flashed Ron an unsure smile and grasped his hand as they walked through the double doors of the main entrance. Madame LaMaison was there once again.
"Harry, is it? So smashing to see you again! I think you'll be delighted with this house. The owner is ready to sell and is including all the furniture."
Harry's jaw dropped to the ground. The foyer was at least twenty feet tall and the floor was covered in marble. There was a magnificent spiral staircase leading to the upper floors.
"This is the foyer, as you can see," said Madame LaMaison, waving her hand dramatically. Harry was so shocked he couldn't speak. There was a heavy cherry table against the far wall, flanked by two stiff-looking embroidered armchairs. He was afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking something. He walked in slowly, staying away from everything. Ron was just as amazed as Harry.
"This is the dining room," she said, motioning them into a large room off the foyer. The floor was still marble, but the walls were painted in a deep burgundy.
"This is really nice," whispered Ron, his mouth open, trying to take it all in.
"Yeah," said Harry, distractedly. They lingered around until Madame LaMaison ushered them through the next door and into the billiard room. Harry silently wondered if Ron even knew what billiards were. The walls were a dark green, almost the same color as the felt on the pool table, and there were lots of trophies and animal heads mounted on the walls. They followed her back through the dining room, into the foyer, and across to the rooms on the other side of the house. The kitchen was a mass of oak cabinets. Even the appliances had oak coverings. They followed her up the large, spiral staircase.
"This is the first bedroom," she said. It was at least five times larger than Ron's room at the Burrow, and it looked beautiful. There were a total of six bedrooms upstairs, each with their own bathroom.
When she got to the room that Harry had been most curious about, the master bedroom, he stumbled backwards, catching himself on the moulding around the doorway. It was immaculately decorated, like the rest of the house, and was so big Harry thought he and Ron would have to shout to each other if they were on opposite sides of it. There was a huge canopy bed in the very center with gold silk hangings and bedding. Off to one side were several gilded high-back chairs and a sofa. There were two closets that were almost as big as Dudley's bedroom at the Dursley's. Two French doors stood on the far side, leading out to a balcony that ran the length of the house. The bathroom was all white with gold fixtures. A glass shower large enough for an entire Quidditch team was positioned in one corner, and next to it sat a massive marble tub. A mirror ran the length of one wall, with a long marble vanity underneath.
When at last Harry was able to take it all in, he looked over in Ron's direction. Apparently, Ron didn't have Harry's recuperative powers because his eyes were almost bugging out of his head, and his mouth was hanging open.
Madame LaMaison's voice jerked Harry out of his reverie. "We've had a lot of people looking at the house. Most of them can't afford it, however. Is it something you'd be interested in?"
Harry stammered, "I'm not sure yet."
Beautiful though the house was, Harry knew that it wasn't for him.
They had thankfully made their last appointment of the week on Thursday. This house was at the foot of Stoatshead Hill, on the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole. Harry thought it was far enough away from the Burrow to allow him and Ron enough privacy, but not too far away from the only real family he'd ever had. Madame LaMaison had been the one to show them every house this week, and she was there once again. Harry thought she was probably getting tired of seeing them. The house was a few miles out of town, in a tiny, sparsely populated area. There were a lot of trees in the back and around the sides of the house. Harry didn't know how far away the neighbors were, but he couldn't see any other houses close by. He assumed that they were the only wizards living on this side of the village. This house was a small, one-story cottage-type house. Harry's stomach gave a jolt when he first looked at it. This is it, he thought. There was just something about it that made Harry feel contented. It was almost like coming home.
There was a small garden out front that hadn't been ideally kept up, but that would look nice with just a little bit of work. It had a thatched roof and shutters around the windows. They followed Madame LaMaison through the wooden front door and into the living room. There was no furniture, but Harry liked it that way. He wanted to have things that made it feel like it was his home, and that included choosing his own furniture. There was a brick hearth on the far side. Off the living room was the kitchen. It was about the size of the kitchen from the first house they had looked at-just the right size for him and Ron. There were two bathrooms, one down the hall and another one in the master bedroom, and two bedrooms. When they came to the master bedroom, Harry thought it was absolutely perfect. Exactly big enough for his feather bed and a few other pieces of furniture. The bathroom was just the right size also, and the shower was big enough for two people to fit comfortably, he noted. There was a small covered back porch off of the bedroom that offered a beautiful view of the woods behind the house. After they had finished the tour, Harry stood in the living room and looked around. He could definitely see himself living here. He thanked Madame LaMaison once more for taking the time to show it to them, and then he and Ron took the Portkey back to the Burrow.
"It was nice, don't you think?" Harry asked, when he and Ron were back in Ron's bedroom.
"It was alright," Ron told him. "A little on the small side."
Chapter 3, Part 2 Friday at the Ministry was a very boring day for Harry. Not as bad as reading from the books and writing two rolls of parchment, but still somewhat like Professor Binns' History of Magic classes at Hogwarts. Adeline didn't want him anywhere near the new Pogrebin for fear that he might kill this one also. Most of the students were still having trouble fighting it, and Adeline was true to her word when she said that they would all learn to defend themselves before moving on to something else. Harry stood back in the corner, slumped against the wall, watching as each student took their turn. Most of them could ward it off for a few minutes, but in the end, they almost always ended up on their backs with the Pogrebin chewing at their robes.
That Friday night, Harry made good on his promise from the previous week of taking Ron out. They had managed to look at as many houses this week as was humanly possible, and frankly, Harry didn't want to look at another one. They had almost exhausted the realty section in the Daily Prophet. That was just as well, however, because the last one that they had toured seemed perfect, and Harry wanted time to talk to Ron about it. Also, with Ron's upcoming first Quidditch match the following day, Harry thought a night out was in order. They showered quickly, but not together, much to Ron's dismay, and threw on clean t-shirts and jeans. Regardless of where they went, they felt much more comfortable in their casual clothes, and only dressed more formally when it was absolutely necessary. They went to a small Muggle Italian place just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole. Harry was thankful to be away from the curious eyes that followed him incessantly in the Wizarding World. The lights in the restaurant were dim, and although there were other people dining, it wasn't overly crowded. They placed their orders, and when the waiter left, Harry turned to Ron.
"So, what did you think of the houses? Was there one in particular that you liked?" he asked, taking Ron's hand gently.
Ron thought for a minute. "I liked that big one, you know, the white one with the columns. I could definitely see myself living there!"
Harry bit his lip. He knew that after sharing a lopsided, rickety old house with nine people, that large house would be a dream come true for Ron. But Harry wanted a home, not just a house, and that particular one seemed too big and too cold. He was going to have to try a new approach.
"So, that was your favorite one, then?" Harry asked slowly.
"No doubt," Ron answered without hesitation. Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, and Ron noticed how quiet he had become.
"You didn't like it?" he asked Harry.
"It was nice, sure. But I kind of liked the last one. It felt, I don't know, more like home."
Noticing that Harry had become quiet once again, Ron turned to look at him and could tell this really meant a lot to him. He couldn't help but grin. Anything that made Harry happy, made Ron happy, and he definitely wasn't going to fuss about something that would allow him to have Harry whenever and wherever he wanted.
"If that's the one you want, that's the one we'll get," he said, flashing Harry a warm smile.
"Really?" asked Harry, his eyes lighting up.
"Really," Ron answered, leaning in to kiss Harry.
Harry was positively elated. He and Ron were finally going to get a house of their own-a place where they could be together without anyone interrupting them or questioning their relationship.
"What do you think about moving in next week? There's no one in there now, so as long as we paid for it and signed all the papers, it shouldn't take too long." Harry was so excited, he would've moved in tonight if possible.
"That's fine with me," Ron said. Harry noticed a change in his tone, however, and saw him put his hand to his forehead, massaging it with his fingers.
"Is something wrong? Do you not want to do this?" Harry had initially been slightly worried about Ron getting cold feet, but as he hadn't shown any sign of this so far, Harry had put it out of his mind.
"No! I want to do this more than anything. I'd move in tomorrow if we could. After the match, of course," he added quickly. "But there's that thing about telling my parents about.us."
Harry looked down at the table, distractedly rubbing the back of Ron's hand with his thumb. "Look, if you want to wait, it's ok. I understand."
"No, Harry. I don't want to wait. We're going to do this, and we're going to do it together. I just have to find the right time and the right way to tell Mum and Dad."
This certainly put a damper on things. Harry had been concentrating so hard on finding the right place and trying to convince Ron it was perfect, that he hadn't thought about Ron's family and what they might think. Harry wondered if he was being selfish, and decided not to press Ron about it any further. They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, Ron said, "That's it, then. I'll tell them this weekend. The whole family should be together on Sunday. No sense in putting it off, right? And if we can move in next week, that doesn't give us a lot of time, does it?"
Harry was shocked and could only look at Ron for a minute. "You're sure? This is what you really want to do?"
"Absolutely," Ron answered, determinedly. Harry could have kissed Ron, and in fact, he did just that. Ron smiled at him, and Harry leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around Ron's arm and leaning his head on his shoulder.
"Don't worry, Ron," he whispered. "Like you said, we're going to do this, and we're going to do it together."
Ron woke Harry early the next morning. He was very fidgety, and Harry wondered if he'd slept at all. Harry couldn't blame him, really. Not only did he have his first professional Quidditch match, against Puddlemere United no less, but there was the inevitable talk that he was going to have with his parents. Harry walked up behind him and put his arms around Ron's waist, laying his head against Ron's back.
"It's not the match that worries me so much," Ron said suddenly. "I reckon Mum can do more damage than any Bludger."
Harry would have laughed had Ron not look so stricken.
"Just get through the match. We'll worry about the rest of it later."
The team was supposed to be at the field an hour before the game, so Ron left before the rest of the family. Harry, who had already wished him good luck before they came downstairs, watched Ron as he grabbed a Portkey and disappeared amid choruses of "good luck," "you'll do great," and "we'll be rooting for you."
Harry sat in the living room with the rest of the Weasleys, waiting for the time when they would leave the Burrow for the Quidditch match. Charlie had owled them to say he wasn't going to be able to make it. Several dragons had gotten loose overnight and were wreaking havoc on a nearby village. Percy stood in front of the mirror over the fireplace, checking his appearance.
"Perce, I don't think it's changed any in the five minutes since you looked last," said Fred.
"Yes, well, as an employee and representative of the Ministry of Magic, I owe it to myself and my fellow Ministry members to always maintain an impeccable appearance," he said haughtily.
"It's a Quidditch match, for crying out loud! I doubt anyone is going to be paying attention to the way you look," retorted George. Percy answered him with a grunt.
Harry was sure he was almost as nervous as Ron had to be. He so badly wanted Ron to play well, but he knew that with Oliver Wood as Puddlemere United's captain and Keeper, the Cannons really didn't stand a chance. Harry's only hope was that it would be over mercifully quick.
At last, Mr. Weasley got up and asked the rest of them if they were ready. They gathered around a Portkey that reminded Harry of one of the clubs Fred and George used when they were Beaters on the Gryffindor team. The second they touched it, they were swept away, hurtling headfirst to the Cannon's home Quidditch field. The field was regulation size, but the surrounding stands were five times as big as the ones Harry was used to at Hogwarts. While it wasn't anywhere near the size of the stadium at the Quidditch World Cup, it was a lot larger than Harry had pictured it. He only hoped that Ron wouldn't freak out once he came onto the field and saw the huge crowd. He and the Weasleys made the way to their seats, which were, thankfully, at the very top of the stadium, dead center. Being the boyfriend of a team member has its rewards, Harry thought. It seemed to be a near sell-out. The stadium was buzzing so loudly that Harry almost had to yell to be heard over it all. Even though it was a home match for the Cannons, the majority of the crowd was wearing royal blue and yellow in support of Puddlemere.
"Please welcome the Puddlemere United team-Nagurski, Gustava, Ecton, Carmichael, Wellington, Macready, and Wood!" came the announcer's voice.
The crowd burst into thunderous applause. Five people down from him, Harry saw Percy clapping so hard Harry thought he'd have blisters on his hands.
"They are the opponents, you know," Fred informed him. Percy stopped clapping, but he didn't look any less intently at the Puddlemere team as they flew in circles around the pitch.
"Now, please welcome the Chudley Cannons! They are Desmond, Glenn, Fairplay, Hardcastle, Weasley, Albright, and Manchester!"
Harry, along with the rest of the Weasleys, jumped from their seats and cheered as loud as they could. Harry wasn't used to being a spectator when Ron was playing, except in his fifth year when Umbridge banned him from playing, but he felt a large sense of pride as he saw Ron flying laps around the field. Everyone assumed that he, Harry, would've been the one playing professional Quidditch, but here was Ron, on a British League team, playing in his first match. Harry couldn't have been happier for him. The team captains met in the middle and shook hands. The referee blew his whistle, and they were off. Harry watched as the Seekers flew straight upwards, zooming around and looking for the Snitch. His reflexes as a Seeker drew his eyes towards them, but he made himself watch the other players, especially the Keepers.
"And it's Nagurski, Desmond, Gustava, Glenn! Back to Nagurski!" the announcer yelled. "Desmond, Nagurski! To Glenn! To Gustava again!"
They were passing the Quaffle so fast that Harry could barely keep up.
"Knocked from Gustava, to Desmond. Desmond flying up the field, and Desmond scores!"
The whole of the Cannons side erupted. The Cannons had actually scored on Puddlemere. Harry couldn't believe it. He threw a quick glance up to the Seekers. They were both still circling the field, looking for the Snitch. If Manchester, the Cannons Seeker, could find the Snitch, they would beat Puddlemere.
"To Albright. Albright up the field, NO! He was hit by a Bludger from Carmichael. Quaffle to Nagurski, passed to Ecton, passed back to Nagurski. Oh, and he's hit by a Bludger from Hardcastle. Glenn with the Quaffle going up field, shoots and-NO! It was blocked by Wood." There were loud cheers from the Puddlemere fans. Percy stood up and applauded loudly. He was the only one in his section to do so.
"Quaffle back to Desmond, passed to Fairplay, Fairplay heading up the field.Oh, knocked off his broom by a Bludger from Wellington. That was a nasty hit. Won't be surprised to see a foul. What? No foul? Oh, well, and it's Ecton with the Quaffle, dodging Hardcastle, heading towards the goal."
Harry held his breath. He hoped Ron could save it. He could tell Ron was clutching his broom tightly. Hardcastle flew right up to the goal and threw the Quaffle as hard as he could. Ron raced to the right goal post and reached out his arms. But it was too late.
".And Hardcastle scores! It's a tie, ten-ten."
Harry exhaled, and flopped back into his seat. There was a groan from the Cannons' side. He hoped Ron wasn't feeling too bad about it. Everyone lets a goal pass every now and then. Harry crossed his fingers that Ron would shake it off and not let it get to him. He had a whole game to play, and now wasn't the time to lose it.
"And it's Albright with the Quaffle, oh, he's hit by a Bludger from Wellington. Wellington with the Quaffle, passing it to Gustava, Gustava barely missed by another Bludger, and he's making his way towards the goal again."
Harry stood up, his fists clenched. C'mon Ron, he thought. Don't let them score again. Gustava aimed the Quaffle, but Ron was too quick, and he grabbed it before it went through the goal.
"And Weasley saves it!" screamed the announcer. The Cannons' fans sighed in collective relief. Harry couldn't help but jumping up and cheering loudly. Ron had done an excellent job in saving it.
The game went on and the score was amazingly close. It was 40-50, Puddlemere. Ron had made several spectacular saves, and Harry thought to himself that Ron shouldn't be at all disappointed in the way he played. Harry watched the Seekers when he got a chance, which was whenever Puddlemere wasn't trying to score. Macready was much faster than Manchester, but Manchester was still an excellent flyer. He had watched them go into a couple of nice dives, but each time the Snitch would dart out of the way.
"Glenn with the Quaffle flying up the field, swerving around a Bludger hit hard by Carmichael. He's flanked by Gustava and Ecton. They crash into him, oh, and he's lost the Quaffle. Recovered by Desmond, who takes it to the far end.and once again it's blocked by Wood. Wood is a great Keeper." Percy hooted and stood up again to clap. He received scowls from the rest of the Weasleys.
Harry was watching the Seekers once again. There was a glint of gold from the far side of the field, which caught his eye. It seemed as though Macready and Manchester had seen the Snitch at the same time that Harry had. They both jerked their brooms around and pelted straight for it. Macready's broom zoomed past Manchester, and almost before anyone had noticed, Macready had the Snitch in his hand. The referee called for the whistle to signal the end of the match. It was over 40-200, Puddlemere. It had really been a close game until Macready beat Manchester in finding the Snitch. The Cannons flew to the ground and dismounted their brooms, shaking hands with Puddlemere United.
Harry went over to the locker rooms to wait for Ron to come out. A few other players had exited before Ron showed up.
"Ron!" said Harry, rushing up next to Ron and barely resisting the urge to jump on him, "You played great!"
Ron blushed, but then quickly said, "They won. Macready was too fast. Manchester couldn't keep up with him."
"That doesn't matter," said Harry, grabbing Ron's arm. "The whole team played really good. You blocked as well as Oliver. He's one of the best Keepers in the world, you know."
Ron knew, but he was still disappointed that his team hadn't won. He walked closer to Harry, intent on giving him a brief hug, when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley showed up, followed by Bill, Fred and George, and Ginny. Harry wondered what had happened to Percy. He had been right with them during the match.
"Oh, Ron," cried Mrs. Weasley. She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief as she engulfed him in a huge hug.
"You played fantastically!" said Mr. Weasley proudly. "Charlie will be sorry he missed it."
Bill and Fred and George patted him on the back, almost knocking him face- first into the mud. Ron couldn't be happier. His whole family, and of course Harry, was around him and they were all very proud of him.
"I think this calls for a celebration," said Fred. "Everyone to the Burrow!" The Weasleys Disapparated, headed for home. Harry and Ron hung back.
Harry grabbed Ron's arm tightly. "You were wonderful," he whispered.
"Thanks," he told Harry, placing a quick kiss on the top of Harry's head when he thought no one was looking.
Harry and Ron arrived at the Burrow to a living room that had been bewitched orange and black. The work of Fred and George, no doubt, thought Harry. There was plenty of butterbeer for all of them, and Ron got patted on the back so many times that Harry thought he might end up with permanent handprints. He was happy that Ron was the center of attention for a change. He definitely deserved it. Harry sat back on the couch, beaming. Ron threw him several delighted smiles. When the excitement had calmed down a little, Ron went over to the couch and sat next to Harry.
"Want to go upstairs?" he asked.
"Sure," answered Harry. "But I think they all want you down here."
"Don't worry, I'll make up something." After a minute, Ron turned to Mrs. Weasley and said, "Mum, is it ok if I go upstairs? I'm a little tired. Thought I might lie down."
"Certainly, dear!" she said. "It's a wonder you're not absolutely exhausted after the game. I'll call you when dinner is ready."
Ron got up, headed for the staircase, and motioned for Harry to follow him.
Once upstairs in Ron's room, Harry rushed over and closed his arms around Ron. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.
"It feels good to have you so close," he whispered into Harry's hair. Harry murmured in agreement and hugged Ron even closer.
"You really did play great today," Harry told him.
"I guess the worst is over now. I mean, we've had our first game and lost spectacularly to Puddlemere. It can only get better, right?" he asked with a laugh. He released his hold on Harry and led him by the hand over to the bed.
"Here, sit," he said, patting the blanket next to him. "I've been doing some thinking about that talk I'm going to have with Mum and Dad tomorrow," he said. Harry's eyes darted to the floor. In all the excitement of the game, he had completely forgotten about what Ron planned on doing tomorrow.
"I don't know if you want to stick around for it or not," Ron continued. "Maybe you'd rather not be here. You could walk into town or something, and I could come get you when it's over. If Mum doesn't break both my legs, that is."
"I'll do whatever you want. If you think it'd be easier with me gone, I'll get lost. But if want me around, I'll be there for you."
Ron looked at him slowly. "I think I'd feel better if you were here," he said.
"Then I'll be there," Harry said, leaning over and giving him a kiss.
"Well, now that that's settled, how about a nap? I sure could do with one.
Come here," he said, pulling Harry down with him.
Harry allowed himself to be pulled down, landing heavily on Ron's chest. Ron still smelled like soap from his shower, and Harry snuggled even closer to him, burying his face in Ron's neck. Harry didn't plan on laying here for long.
With the house full, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone came up here. He was so content to just lay there with Ron that he couldn't help but close his eyes and enjoy the moment.
Soon both boys were fast asleep. They didn't notice when the door opened a few hours later and Bill stuck his head in to tell them that supper was ready. He closed the door silently behind him and went back downstairs, trying to come up with a good excuse for why they wouldn't be down for supper.
"Harry, dear, did you sleep well? Arthur and I were afraid we'd kept you up. The Diggorys and the Shacklebolts didn't leave until almost two o'clock this morning."
"No, I slept just fine, thank you," Harry said in a hurry. He grabbed a plate of sausages and eggs and a copy of the latest Daily Prophet and headed back upstairs.
Ron was sitting up now, though barely, and clutching his head.
"Why did you let me drink so much?" he moaned to Harry.
"I didn't let you. You did this to yourself," Harry answered with a chuckle. "Here, I brought you something to eat," he said, presenting Ron with the sausages and eggs.
"Ugh. I don't even want to look at that. Get me another glass of water."
Harry ran down the hall to the bathroom again and returned a few minutes later with another glass of water. Ron gulped it down.
"Look, I've got today's Daily Prophet. Thought we'd look through the real estate section," Harry said.
"You'll have to do the looking," Ron groaned. "My eyes won't focus on anything."
Harry sat down on the bed next to Ron and opened the paper with a snap. He scanned down through the entries until he came to a particular one.
"Hey, Ron, how does this sound? 'Two bedrooms, two baths, eat-in kitchen, large living room, large backyard,' Harry read. "It's just outside of London, and the price isn't too bad."
Before Ron could reply, there were two loud cracks, and Fred and George appeared.
"Don't you two ever knock?" Ron complained.
"Nope," said Fred.
"What are you reading?" asked George, seeing Harry with the newspaper.
"We're looking for a house," Harry answered.
" 'We'?" Fred wondered.
"Well, I mean I am. Ron is just helping," Harry covered. He blushed slightly and looked back down to the paper, missing the smirk traded by Fred and George.
"How're you feeling today, Ron?" asked George, slapping Ron hard in the back. Ron gave a wince and put his hands to his head again.
"Don't do that! I feel like crap, thank you very much. I don't know what you put in those drinks."
"How dare you think we'd tamper with anything? We're men of integrity! " Fred said with mock indignation.
"So, did you and Harry have a good time last night?" George asked. "We noticed you left early. Was anything wrong?" he snickered.
Harry's face pinked and Ron gave George a glare. "No. Nothing was wrong. We were just tired, right Harry?"
"Right," Harry answered quickly.
"Sure you were," drawled Fred. "Hey, are you going to eat these?" he asked, gesturing to the plate of untouched sausages and eggs.
"No, help yourself," said Ron, waving his hand in the direction on the plate.
"Where're you moving to, Harry?" asked Fred, his voice muffled by a mouthful of sausage.
"Don't know yet," Harry supplied. "Wherever I find the right place, I guess."
"There's a flat in Diagon Alley, not far from our shop. It's a fairly nice place and the rent's not too bad," Fred informed him.
"Really?" asked Harry. "Maybe we, I mean, I should take a look at it."
"Drop by on Monday and we'll take you to it."
"Ok, great."
"Fred, don't you think it's awfully quiet down in the kitchen? I think Mum needs a little excitement. Want to pay her a visit?"
"Absolutely!" cheered Fred. They left Ron's room, headed downstairs, no doubt to torture Mrs. Weasley.
Harry returned to the paper. "Here's another one that sounds good. It's got two bedrooms, one bath with a large shower-we could put that to use, don't you think?"
Ron laughed. "No doubt. Owl the realtor and set us up an appointment to look at it."
Before he knew it, Harry had made arrangements to look at a house every evening for the next week.
They passed the rest of the afternoon in Ron's room, thankfully not bothered by anyone. Harry looked through the whole real estate section, circling several that he thought he and Ron might be interested in. He wasn't so much concerned about the price as he was finding the right place. He really wanted a place he could finally call his own. Hogwarts had been great, and so was the Burrow, but they weren't actually his, and he always knew that eventually he'd have to leave.
Sunday was spent with the whole Weasley family for the requisite Sunday dinner. They ate out in the garden once again because the kitchen was so cramped.
From the other end of the table, Bill turned to Harry and said, "So, I hear you're looking for a place to live."
Harry cast a glance at Fred and George who were snickering. News sure does travel fast around here, he thought to himself. "I'm in the market for one, you might say," he answered.
Mrs. Weasley dropped her fork with a loud clatter. "Harry, you're leaving us?"
Uh-oh, thought Harry. He hadn't bargained on this. "I'm not leaving you, Mrs. Weasley. I just don't want to be a bother any longer than I have to."
"Dear, you're no bother at all! Arthur and I love having you around," she said, turning to her husband. "With Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George gone, the house is much quieter than we're used to. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ginny's eyes jumping back and forth from him to Ron. He was more than appreciative of Mrs. Weasley's offer, and he didn't quite know how to explain to her the reasons he wanted to leave.
Fred chimed in, "Isn't Ron looking at places with you?"
Harry could have killed him.
"He's only coming along to help me out," Harry answered irritably.
"Hmm," murmured George.
The rest of the dinner was passed, to Harry's relief, with neutral conversation about Quidditch, the newest goings-on at the Ministry, and Ginny's upcoming final year at Hogwarts.
When at last Harry and Ron went upstairs to Ron's room that night, Harry wondered where the weekend had gone. Two days off for every five days worked just didn't seem right. At least they'd be starting practical Auror training tomorrow instead of reading out of those dull textbooks. Of course, for practical training you need practical knowledge, and Harry was more than a little unsure of himself. At least when learning out of the textbooks, if he wrote something stupid, Adeline Monceret was the only one to know about it. If he did something stupid in practical lessons, the whole class would know about it.
He arrived at the Ministry of Magic on Monday morning by himself. After having Mr. Weasley accompany him every morning last week, Harry began to be more comfortable and he told Mr. Weasley this morning to go on ahead and that he'd be there shortly. Harry didn't want everyone thinking that he was still a child who couldn't leave the house without a parent, but he was secretly quite relieved to know that Mr. Weasley was only just down the hall if he ever needed anything.
Most of the students were already in the room when Harry arrived. He grabbed the seat in front of Neville, in which he had been sitting the previous week, and as he sat down, noticed Neville had his right arm in a cast.
"Neville?" Harry asked. "What happened?"
"I was climbing the wall trellis to feed my venomous tentacula when it grabbed me by the leg and threw me against the house. Gran said it served me right, keeping a plant like that, so to teach me a lesson, she only fixed it the Muggle way. I think I know how to fix it myself, but as it's my wand arm that's broken, I didn't want to make anything worse by trying to cast a spell with my left hand."
Harry didn't want to make Neville feel bad, but he made a mental note not to pair up with Neville for any of their practical lessons. There was a loud clanking of heels out in the larger room, and after a moment Adeline entered.
"I trust that you all know we are starting practical training today. There will be a three month trial period, and if you are not found to be proficient after that time, you will be dismissed."
Harry heard Neville give a great gulp behind him. Adeline continued, "Today we will start with learning about, and fighting, dark creatures." The class rustled nervously, but no one spoke.
"We're going to need a lot of space. Please move to the front of the room," she said, as she took out her wand and waved all of the desks and chairs into neat, tightly packed rows against the far wall. She then retrieved something from a cage that looked like a large, gray rock, and placed it in the middle of the floor where all the desks had been.
"This is a Pogrebin. Do not be fooled by its appearance. It is much more dangerous than any of you could imagine." Harry was briefly reminded of the time in his second year when Professor Lockhart warned them of the dangers of Cornish Pixies.
No one, including Harry, seemed to know what it was. Adeline prodded it with her wand. It began to wriggle, just slightly, and upon closer inspection, Harry could detect short, fine hair covering its body.
"I expected a class of Aurors to know what a Pogrebin is," she said angrily. "As it seems none of you were satisfactorily taught.a Pogrebin is native to Russia. It assumes the appearance of a harmless stone, but it has a powerful effect on one's emotions. It will fill you with a sense of hopelessness, and once you collapse from despair, it will attempt to devour you. It is quite like a dementor, but much more dangerous. Dementors you can see and feel. A Pogrebin is very unassuming, and an unsuspecting witch or wizard will not know what it truly is until it is too late."
Harry heard Neville give a frightened gasp from behind him, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little uneasy himself. He would never forget the way he felt in the presence of a dementor. He had learned to fight them, with help from Professor Lupin, but even now, the thought of one made his stomach turn over.
"You will each take a turn with the Pogrebin. You will fight it until you can beat it," said Adeline ominously. "Who wants to go first?"
The whole class hesitated. Adeline scanned their faces, looking for a suitable opponent.
Harry was most relieved when she turned to a brown-haired girl several people to his left and said, "You, there, in the red shirt. Come forward."
The girl walked slowly forward. Her face was full of determination, but her steps were shaky.
"What is your name?" asked Adeline.
"Verona Vanton," said the girl.
"Ok, Vanton, take your turn with the Pogrebin." Adeline motioned for the rest of the class to join her over in a corner, out of the way.
Harry watched as the girl advanced on the Pogrebin. It hardly looked like it moved, but if you watched closely, you could see it shudder or crawl slowly. Verona eyed it warily, her wand out. After just a few minutes, however, she was on her knees, her hands over her face. The Pogrebin crept almost imperceptibly forward. Soon Verona was laid out on her back, the creature nibbling at her leg. Adeline strode forward.
"Demencio!" she yelled. Immediately, the Pogrebin stopped and resumed its stone shape.
Adeline called forward several other people to face the creature. None of them fared very well. She kept having to stop it before it began to chew on the limbs of the students.
"I can see that none of you so far have figured out the way to fight the Pogrebin," she said finally. "It will show you the memories that will devastate you the most. The only way to defeat it is to cast those memories back upon it. If you cast them hard enough, the Pogrebin will not be able to withstand them, and it will combust." She threw a quick look at her watch. "It is time for lunch. I will expect the rest of the class to successfully fight the Pogrebin afterwards. You may go."
The class scampered out of the room. Harry was extraordinarily relieved that he wasn't among the first to have to fight the creature. Now that he knew the spell, he might be able to ward it off before it could start taking pieces out of him.
Hermione met Harry and Neville for lunch in what had become their usual corner table in the cafeteria.
"What happened to you, Neville?" Hermione asked as she placed her tray on the table and sat down next to Harry. Neville told her the same story that he had told Harry about his venomous tentacula.
Hermione tutted her disapproval. "You really ought to be more careful, you know."
"How was your weekend, Hermione?" Harry asked, trying to get Hermione off of Neville's back.
"What? Oh, it was ok. Not nearly as exciting as being at work. I caught up on some of my reading. I'm doing an independent study on the largest area with the best homes in which to place house-elves. What did you do all weekend?" Then she added quickly, "Or do I even want to know?"
Harry's face turned a deep red. Neville glanced between the two, totally confused.
"Not what you might think, unfortunately," Harry answered. "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley threw a dinner party on Friday. Poor Ron was sick most of the next day. The rest of the weekend was quiet, for a change. Oh, and Ron and I are looking for a house," Harry mentioned quickly, but not before another blush crept into his cheeks.
"Really, Harry? How wonderful! I hope you two find the perfect place!" said Hermione, glowing. Neville continued shifting his eyes from one to the other, looking utterly baffled.
"We're going to see our first one today, after work," he told her. "Fred and George have a flat they wanted to show us, too."
"You'll have to let me know when you find the one you want. Maybe you'd like a house-elf?" she asked. Harry rolled his eyes.
Before he knew it, lunch was over and he and Neville were headed back to the lifts and up to the Auror Headquarters. He saw that the Pogrebin was back in its cage. The desks were still arranged against the far wall, however, so he and Neville joined the rest of the class in the corner. As if right on cue, Adeline arrived shortly after.
"Ok, who wants to take the Pogrebin next?" she asked, without a preamble. A dark-haired boy, a few years older than Harry, stepped forward. He had a little more luck in fighting it than the students had before him. He deflected its advances several times before finally dropping to his knees.
"That wasn't bad, Moore," she said to the boy. "But you ought to be able to fight it all the way. You, in the black shirt, Potter, is it? Come forward."
This is it, Harry thought. Time to make a fool of himself in front of the entire class. He grabbed his wand tightly and walked out to the center of the room. He faced the Pogrebin, waiting for something to happen. For several minutes, it just sat there, still. Eventually, he saw it slinking towards him, just barely. His wand was ready, and he had the spell on the edge of his tongue, ready to blurt it out if the memories became too much. But as it moved closer to him, he felt nothing. It was at his shoes now, but he still felt nothing. Maybe it was like fighting the Imperious Curse, he thought. He simply didn't hear any voices telling him what he should feel. When he saw it trying to nibble at his shoelaces, he casually spoke, "Demencio!" and the creature gave a great lurch and burst into a pile of ashes.
The class gave a collective gasp. Adeline advanced on him quickly. "Where did you learn that?" she demanded.
Harry didn't know what to say. He hadn't learned it anywhere. In fact, this was the first time that he'd ever heard of a Pogrebin.
"I...I don't know," he stammered.
"Well, regardless, that was very well done. If only the rest of the class would be so quick to learn," she scolded, throwing her hand backwards toward the group huddled in the corner. "But now you have demolished my teaching device. While I was sure the class would be able to handle the Pogrebin, I did not count on anyone destroying it."
Harry ducked his head and walked back over to join the rest of the class. Once again, he had managed to call attention to himself without even meaning to. He honestly had no idea what he'd done to the Pogrebin. He just did what his instincts told him to do. Thankfully, the class was dismissed early. Evidently, Adeline didn't have a back up plan.
Harry wasn't in the least bit regretful over having his workday cut short. They not only had a house to see after work, but also the flat Fred had told him about. When he arrived in the fireplace at the Burrow, Ron was waiting for him, looking just as excited as Harry was. The realtor had sent them a Portkey, which was basically just that-a key on a large key chain, reading Regal Realty: Uniting Witches and Wizards with the Houses of their Dreams.
"Ready?" Harry asked.
"You bet," said Ron with a grin. Ron yelled to Mrs. Weasley that he and Harry were going out and they'd be back before too long. They sprinted upstairs to Ron's room and grabbed the Portkey simultaneously. Harry felt the familiar tug behind his navel and in a split second, he and Ron were speeding forward, a blur of colors swirling around them. Harry shut his eyes tightly to avoid getting sick. At last, his feet landed on the ground with a thud.
"Hello, hello! I'm Madame LaMaison. Please, step this way, and I'll show you the house," the realtor greeted them.
Harry and Ron walked slowly behind her. This was a totally new experience for them both. Harry had no doubt that he wanted to be with Ron forever, but buying a house together was still a big step. They had been together for almost two years, and Harry was happier than he'd ever been. He was pretty sure Ron felt the same way, but he didn't want Ron freaking out over making such a commitment.
They walked shakily into the house. It looked like a log cabin. There was wood everywhere-on the walls, on the floors, and on the ceiling. It'll be easy to clean, thought Harry, who had cleaned the Durselys' house enough times to appreciate what a good cleaning included.
"So, which one of you is looking for a house?" asked Madame LaMaison.
Harry almost said, "We both are," but stopped himself and said, "I am."
"Good, good. If you'll look at the living room, you'll see that it's a nice size, plenty of room to entertain. The kitchen is nice, too. It's average-sized, but has state-of-the-art appliances. It's a perfect size for a bachelor like yourself," she said, grinning at Harry.
Harry forcefully returned her smile and walked into the kitchen. Really, the kitchen would be perfect for him and Ron. Neither one of them cooked much, although Harry was much better at it than Ron. Madame LaMaison led them into the bathroom. It was average-sized too, and Harry couldn't help looking at the shower and noticing that two people would be slightly cramped in it. At last she showed them the two bedrooms.
"This first one is basically a guest room," she explained. It was small, and Harry wondered if there would be enough room for a bed and a few other pieces of furniture. It would have to be an awfully small bed, he thought. She then walked down the hallway to the master bedroom. Harry's eyes grew to about twice their normal size. The room was huge. There would no doubt be room for that large feather bed that he wanted. They finished the tour and thanked Madame LaMaison for taking the time to show it to them.
"What did you think?" Harry asked Ron, once Madame LaMaison had left.
"It was nice, for sure," Ron answered. Harry agreed, but thought to himself that it wasn't exactly what he was looking for. It didn't feel like home, and he knew that when they found the right place, he'd recognize it instantly.
The next stop was Fred's and George's joke shop.
"Oi," said George. "Nice to see you Harry. And you too, Ron, I guess." Ron glared.
"Hey, George," answered Harry. "We're here to see the flat. Care to show it to me?"
"Not at all, not at all," said Fred, coming from the back room, his arms loaded with boxes. "Let George and me stock this, and we'll be ready. Just along for the ride are you, Ron?"
"What? Oh.yeah," murmured Ron.
Harry looked around the shop while Fred and George unloaded the contents of the boxes onto the shelves. Harry had to admit that they had done very well for themselves. From what he could tell, they had a very nice income from the shop.
"All done," said George, dusting off his hands. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to Harry and Ron.
Harry and Ron followed Fred and George out the door and down the cobblestone street. A few blocks down and a couple of right turns, and they were standing outside a small apartment complex.
"Fred knows the girl that's selling," said George with a scowl. "That's how he's got the key."
They walked through the front doors and up three flights of stairs before they came to a door off to the right of the landing. Fred fitted the key into the keyhole, and the four of them walked in. It was a studio apartment, and whoever decorated it was no doubt very imaginative. Everything was retro, from the seafoam-green kitchen to the harvest-gold living room furniture. In the space designated for the bedroom was a bed covered in a bright, flower-clad polyester bedspread. Ron let out a snort of laughter.
Harry, trying to be more subtle, said, "Fred, have you, er, seen this place before?"
"Well, yeah, but only in the dark," he answered. George scowled once again.
"I appreciate the time you took to show it to us, but I really don't think this is what I'm looking for," said Harry carefully.
"Don't say that I can blame you," George whispered in his ear. "It's perfectly dreadful."
The house they looked at the next day was in Godric's Hollow. Harry had reservations about it, being that Godric's Hollow was where his parents had lived, but Ron was thoroughly excited about seeing the place. It sounded very nice in the description that Harry had read. They grabbed the Portkey and were instantly swept away, pelting towards their destination. When they arrived in the driveway, Harry craned his head upwards to take in the whole thing. The house was massive. It was easily the biggest house Harry had ever seen. It was all white and huge columns were spanning the whole height of the house. He flashed Ron an unsure smile and grasped his hand as they walked through the double doors of the main entrance. Madame LaMaison was there once again.
"Harry, is it? So smashing to see you again! I think you'll be delighted with this house. The owner is ready to sell and is including all the furniture."
Harry's jaw dropped to the ground. The foyer was at least twenty feet tall and the floor was covered in marble. There was a magnificent spiral staircase leading to the upper floors.
"This is the foyer, as you can see," said Madame LaMaison, waving her hand dramatically. Harry was so shocked he couldn't speak. There was a heavy cherry table against the far wall, flanked by two stiff-looking embroidered armchairs. He was afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking something. He walked in slowly, staying away from everything. Ron was just as amazed as Harry.
"This is the dining room," she said, motioning them into a large room off the foyer. The floor was still marble, but the walls were painted in a deep burgundy.
"This is really nice," whispered Ron, his mouth open, trying to take it all in.
"Yeah," said Harry, distractedly. They lingered around until Madame LaMaison ushered them through the next door and into the billiard room. Harry silently wondered if Ron even knew what billiards were. The walls were a dark green, almost the same color as the felt on the pool table, and there were lots of trophies and animal heads mounted on the walls. They followed her back through the dining room, into the foyer, and across to the rooms on the other side of the house. The kitchen was a mass of oak cabinets. Even the appliances had oak coverings. They followed her up the large, spiral staircase.
"This is the first bedroom," she said. It was at least five times larger than Ron's room at the Burrow, and it looked beautiful. There were a total of six bedrooms upstairs, each with their own bathroom.
When she got to the room that Harry had been most curious about, the master bedroom, he stumbled backwards, catching himself on the moulding around the doorway. It was immaculately decorated, like the rest of the house, and was so big Harry thought he and Ron would have to shout to each other if they were on opposite sides of it. There was a huge canopy bed in the very center with gold silk hangings and bedding. Off to one side were several gilded high-back chairs and a sofa. There were two closets that were almost as big as Dudley's bedroom at the Dursley's. Two French doors stood on the far side, leading out to a balcony that ran the length of the house. The bathroom was all white with gold fixtures. A glass shower large enough for an entire Quidditch team was positioned in one corner, and next to it sat a massive marble tub. A mirror ran the length of one wall, with a long marble vanity underneath.
When at last Harry was able to take it all in, he looked over in Ron's direction. Apparently, Ron didn't have Harry's recuperative powers because his eyes were almost bugging out of his head, and his mouth was hanging open.
Madame LaMaison's voice jerked Harry out of his reverie. "We've had a lot of people looking at the house. Most of them can't afford it, however. Is it something you'd be interested in?"
Harry stammered, "I'm not sure yet."
Beautiful though the house was, Harry knew that it wasn't for him.
They had thankfully made their last appointment of the week on Thursday. This house was at the foot of Stoatshead Hill, on the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole. Harry thought it was far enough away from the Burrow to allow him and Ron enough privacy, but not too far away from the only real family he'd ever had. Madame LaMaison had been the one to show them every house this week, and she was there once again. Harry thought she was probably getting tired of seeing them. The house was a few miles out of town, in a tiny, sparsely populated area. There were a lot of trees in the back and around the sides of the house. Harry didn't know how far away the neighbors were, but he couldn't see any other houses close by. He assumed that they were the only wizards living on this side of the village. This house was a small, one-story cottage-type house. Harry's stomach gave a jolt when he first looked at it. This is it, he thought. There was just something about it that made Harry feel contented. It was almost like coming home.
There was a small garden out front that hadn't been ideally kept up, but that would look nice with just a little bit of work. It had a thatched roof and shutters around the windows. They followed Madame LaMaison through the wooden front door and into the living room. There was no furniture, but Harry liked it that way. He wanted to have things that made it feel like it was his home, and that included choosing his own furniture. There was a brick hearth on the far side. Off the living room was the kitchen. It was about the size of the kitchen from the first house they had looked at-just the right size for him and Ron. There were two bathrooms, one down the hall and another one in the master bedroom, and two bedrooms. When they came to the master bedroom, Harry thought it was absolutely perfect. Exactly big enough for his feather bed and a few other pieces of furniture. The bathroom was just the right size also, and the shower was big enough for two people to fit comfortably, he noted. There was a small covered back porch off of the bedroom that offered a beautiful view of the woods behind the house. After they had finished the tour, Harry stood in the living room and looked around. He could definitely see himself living here. He thanked Madame LaMaison once more for taking the time to show it to them, and then he and Ron took the Portkey back to the Burrow.
"It was nice, don't you think?" Harry asked, when he and Ron were back in Ron's bedroom.
"It was alright," Ron told him. "A little on the small side."
Chapter 3, Part 2 Friday at the Ministry was a very boring day for Harry. Not as bad as reading from the books and writing two rolls of parchment, but still somewhat like Professor Binns' History of Magic classes at Hogwarts. Adeline didn't want him anywhere near the new Pogrebin for fear that he might kill this one also. Most of the students were still having trouble fighting it, and Adeline was true to her word when she said that they would all learn to defend themselves before moving on to something else. Harry stood back in the corner, slumped against the wall, watching as each student took their turn. Most of them could ward it off for a few minutes, but in the end, they almost always ended up on their backs with the Pogrebin chewing at their robes.
That Friday night, Harry made good on his promise from the previous week of taking Ron out. They had managed to look at as many houses this week as was humanly possible, and frankly, Harry didn't want to look at another one. They had almost exhausted the realty section in the Daily Prophet. That was just as well, however, because the last one that they had toured seemed perfect, and Harry wanted time to talk to Ron about it. Also, with Ron's upcoming first Quidditch match the following day, Harry thought a night out was in order. They showered quickly, but not together, much to Ron's dismay, and threw on clean t-shirts and jeans. Regardless of where they went, they felt much more comfortable in their casual clothes, and only dressed more formally when it was absolutely necessary. They went to a small Muggle Italian place just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole. Harry was thankful to be away from the curious eyes that followed him incessantly in the Wizarding World. The lights in the restaurant were dim, and although there were other people dining, it wasn't overly crowded. They placed their orders, and when the waiter left, Harry turned to Ron.
"So, what did you think of the houses? Was there one in particular that you liked?" he asked, taking Ron's hand gently.
Ron thought for a minute. "I liked that big one, you know, the white one with the columns. I could definitely see myself living there!"
Harry bit his lip. He knew that after sharing a lopsided, rickety old house with nine people, that large house would be a dream come true for Ron. But Harry wanted a home, not just a house, and that particular one seemed too big and too cold. He was going to have to try a new approach.
"So, that was your favorite one, then?" Harry asked slowly.
"No doubt," Ron answered without hesitation. Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, and Ron noticed how quiet he had become.
"You didn't like it?" he asked Harry.
"It was nice, sure. But I kind of liked the last one. It felt, I don't know, more like home."
Noticing that Harry had become quiet once again, Ron turned to look at him and could tell this really meant a lot to him. He couldn't help but grin. Anything that made Harry happy, made Ron happy, and he definitely wasn't going to fuss about something that would allow him to have Harry whenever and wherever he wanted.
"If that's the one you want, that's the one we'll get," he said, flashing Harry a warm smile.
"Really?" asked Harry, his eyes lighting up.
"Really," Ron answered, leaning in to kiss Harry.
Harry was positively elated. He and Ron were finally going to get a house of their own-a place where they could be together without anyone interrupting them or questioning their relationship.
"What do you think about moving in next week? There's no one in there now, so as long as we paid for it and signed all the papers, it shouldn't take too long." Harry was so excited, he would've moved in tonight if possible.
"That's fine with me," Ron said. Harry noticed a change in his tone, however, and saw him put his hand to his forehead, massaging it with his fingers.
"Is something wrong? Do you not want to do this?" Harry had initially been slightly worried about Ron getting cold feet, but as he hadn't shown any sign of this so far, Harry had put it out of his mind.
"No! I want to do this more than anything. I'd move in tomorrow if we could. After the match, of course," he added quickly. "But there's that thing about telling my parents about.us."
Harry looked down at the table, distractedly rubbing the back of Ron's hand with his thumb. "Look, if you want to wait, it's ok. I understand."
"No, Harry. I don't want to wait. We're going to do this, and we're going to do it together. I just have to find the right time and the right way to tell Mum and Dad."
This certainly put a damper on things. Harry had been concentrating so hard on finding the right place and trying to convince Ron it was perfect, that he hadn't thought about Ron's family and what they might think. Harry wondered if he was being selfish, and decided not to press Ron about it any further. They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts.
Finally, Ron said, "That's it, then. I'll tell them this weekend. The whole family should be together on Sunday. No sense in putting it off, right? And if we can move in next week, that doesn't give us a lot of time, does it?"
Harry was shocked and could only look at Ron for a minute. "You're sure? This is what you really want to do?"
"Absolutely," Ron answered, determinedly. Harry could have kissed Ron, and in fact, he did just that. Ron smiled at him, and Harry leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around Ron's arm and leaning his head on his shoulder.
"Don't worry, Ron," he whispered. "Like you said, we're going to do this, and we're going to do it together."
Ron woke Harry early the next morning. He was very fidgety, and Harry wondered if he'd slept at all. Harry couldn't blame him, really. Not only did he have his first professional Quidditch match, against Puddlemere United no less, but there was the inevitable talk that he was going to have with his parents. Harry walked up behind him and put his arms around Ron's waist, laying his head against Ron's back.
"It's not the match that worries me so much," Ron said suddenly. "I reckon Mum can do more damage than any Bludger."
Harry would have laughed had Ron not look so stricken.
"Just get through the match. We'll worry about the rest of it later."
The team was supposed to be at the field an hour before the game, so Ron left before the rest of the family. Harry, who had already wished him good luck before they came downstairs, watched Ron as he grabbed a Portkey and disappeared amid choruses of "good luck," "you'll do great," and "we'll be rooting for you."
Harry sat in the living room with the rest of the Weasleys, waiting for the time when they would leave the Burrow for the Quidditch match. Charlie had owled them to say he wasn't going to be able to make it. Several dragons had gotten loose overnight and were wreaking havoc on a nearby village. Percy stood in front of the mirror over the fireplace, checking his appearance.
"Perce, I don't think it's changed any in the five minutes since you looked last," said Fred.
"Yes, well, as an employee and representative of the Ministry of Magic, I owe it to myself and my fellow Ministry members to always maintain an impeccable appearance," he said haughtily.
"It's a Quidditch match, for crying out loud! I doubt anyone is going to be paying attention to the way you look," retorted George. Percy answered him with a grunt.
Harry was sure he was almost as nervous as Ron had to be. He so badly wanted Ron to play well, but he knew that with Oliver Wood as Puddlemere United's captain and Keeper, the Cannons really didn't stand a chance. Harry's only hope was that it would be over mercifully quick.
At last, Mr. Weasley got up and asked the rest of them if they were ready. They gathered around a Portkey that reminded Harry of one of the clubs Fred and George used when they were Beaters on the Gryffindor team. The second they touched it, they were swept away, hurtling headfirst to the Cannon's home Quidditch field. The field was regulation size, but the surrounding stands were five times as big as the ones Harry was used to at Hogwarts. While it wasn't anywhere near the size of the stadium at the Quidditch World Cup, it was a lot larger than Harry had pictured it. He only hoped that Ron wouldn't freak out once he came onto the field and saw the huge crowd. He and the Weasleys made the way to their seats, which were, thankfully, at the very top of the stadium, dead center. Being the boyfriend of a team member has its rewards, Harry thought. It seemed to be a near sell-out. The stadium was buzzing so loudly that Harry almost had to yell to be heard over it all. Even though it was a home match for the Cannons, the majority of the crowd was wearing royal blue and yellow in support of Puddlemere.
"Please welcome the Puddlemere United team-Nagurski, Gustava, Ecton, Carmichael, Wellington, Macready, and Wood!" came the announcer's voice.
The crowd burst into thunderous applause. Five people down from him, Harry saw Percy clapping so hard Harry thought he'd have blisters on his hands.
"They are the opponents, you know," Fred informed him. Percy stopped clapping, but he didn't look any less intently at the Puddlemere team as they flew in circles around the pitch.
"Now, please welcome the Chudley Cannons! They are Desmond, Glenn, Fairplay, Hardcastle, Weasley, Albright, and Manchester!"
Harry, along with the rest of the Weasleys, jumped from their seats and cheered as loud as they could. Harry wasn't used to being a spectator when Ron was playing, except in his fifth year when Umbridge banned him from playing, but he felt a large sense of pride as he saw Ron flying laps around the field. Everyone assumed that he, Harry, would've been the one playing professional Quidditch, but here was Ron, on a British League team, playing in his first match. Harry couldn't have been happier for him. The team captains met in the middle and shook hands. The referee blew his whistle, and they were off. Harry watched as the Seekers flew straight upwards, zooming around and looking for the Snitch. His reflexes as a Seeker drew his eyes towards them, but he made himself watch the other players, especially the Keepers.
"And it's Nagurski, Desmond, Gustava, Glenn! Back to Nagurski!" the announcer yelled. "Desmond, Nagurski! To Glenn! To Gustava again!"
They were passing the Quaffle so fast that Harry could barely keep up.
"Knocked from Gustava, to Desmond. Desmond flying up the field, and Desmond scores!"
The whole of the Cannons side erupted. The Cannons had actually scored on Puddlemere. Harry couldn't believe it. He threw a quick glance up to the Seekers. They were both still circling the field, looking for the Snitch. If Manchester, the Cannons Seeker, could find the Snitch, they would beat Puddlemere.
"To Albright. Albright up the field, NO! He was hit by a Bludger from Carmichael. Quaffle to Nagurski, passed to Ecton, passed back to Nagurski. Oh, and he's hit by a Bludger from Hardcastle. Glenn with the Quaffle going up field, shoots and-NO! It was blocked by Wood." There were loud cheers from the Puddlemere fans. Percy stood up and applauded loudly. He was the only one in his section to do so.
"Quaffle back to Desmond, passed to Fairplay, Fairplay heading up the field.Oh, knocked off his broom by a Bludger from Wellington. That was a nasty hit. Won't be surprised to see a foul. What? No foul? Oh, well, and it's Ecton with the Quaffle, dodging Hardcastle, heading towards the goal."
Harry held his breath. He hoped Ron could save it. He could tell Ron was clutching his broom tightly. Hardcastle flew right up to the goal and threw the Quaffle as hard as he could. Ron raced to the right goal post and reached out his arms. But it was too late.
".And Hardcastle scores! It's a tie, ten-ten."
Harry exhaled, and flopped back into his seat. There was a groan from the Cannons' side. He hoped Ron wasn't feeling too bad about it. Everyone lets a goal pass every now and then. Harry crossed his fingers that Ron would shake it off and not let it get to him. He had a whole game to play, and now wasn't the time to lose it.
"And it's Albright with the Quaffle, oh, he's hit by a Bludger from Wellington. Wellington with the Quaffle, passing it to Gustava, Gustava barely missed by another Bludger, and he's making his way towards the goal again."
Harry stood up, his fists clenched. C'mon Ron, he thought. Don't let them score again. Gustava aimed the Quaffle, but Ron was too quick, and he grabbed it before it went through the goal.
"And Weasley saves it!" screamed the announcer. The Cannons' fans sighed in collective relief. Harry couldn't help but jumping up and cheering loudly. Ron had done an excellent job in saving it.
The game went on and the score was amazingly close. It was 40-50, Puddlemere. Ron had made several spectacular saves, and Harry thought to himself that Ron shouldn't be at all disappointed in the way he played. Harry watched the Seekers when he got a chance, which was whenever Puddlemere wasn't trying to score. Macready was much faster than Manchester, but Manchester was still an excellent flyer. He had watched them go into a couple of nice dives, but each time the Snitch would dart out of the way.
"Glenn with the Quaffle flying up the field, swerving around a Bludger hit hard by Carmichael. He's flanked by Gustava and Ecton. They crash into him, oh, and he's lost the Quaffle. Recovered by Desmond, who takes it to the far end.and once again it's blocked by Wood. Wood is a great Keeper." Percy hooted and stood up again to clap. He received scowls from the rest of the Weasleys.
Harry was watching the Seekers once again. There was a glint of gold from the far side of the field, which caught his eye. It seemed as though Macready and Manchester had seen the Snitch at the same time that Harry had. They both jerked their brooms around and pelted straight for it. Macready's broom zoomed past Manchester, and almost before anyone had noticed, Macready had the Snitch in his hand. The referee called for the whistle to signal the end of the match. It was over 40-200, Puddlemere. It had really been a close game until Macready beat Manchester in finding the Snitch. The Cannons flew to the ground and dismounted their brooms, shaking hands with Puddlemere United.
Harry went over to the locker rooms to wait for Ron to come out. A few other players had exited before Ron showed up.
"Ron!" said Harry, rushing up next to Ron and barely resisting the urge to jump on him, "You played great!"
Ron blushed, but then quickly said, "They won. Macready was too fast. Manchester couldn't keep up with him."
"That doesn't matter," said Harry, grabbing Ron's arm. "The whole team played really good. You blocked as well as Oliver. He's one of the best Keepers in the world, you know."
Ron knew, but he was still disappointed that his team hadn't won. He walked closer to Harry, intent on giving him a brief hug, when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley showed up, followed by Bill, Fred and George, and Ginny. Harry wondered what had happened to Percy. He had been right with them during the match.
"Oh, Ron," cried Mrs. Weasley. She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief as she engulfed him in a huge hug.
"You played fantastically!" said Mr. Weasley proudly. "Charlie will be sorry he missed it."
Bill and Fred and George patted him on the back, almost knocking him face- first into the mud. Ron couldn't be happier. His whole family, and of course Harry, was around him and they were all very proud of him.
"I think this calls for a celebration," said Fred. "Everyone to the Burrow!" The Weasleys Disapparated, headed for home. Harry and Ron hung back.
Harry grabbed Ron's arm tightly. "You were wonderful," he whispered.
"Thanks," he told Harry, placing a quick kiss on the top of Harry's head when he thought no one was looking.
Harry and Ron arrived at the Burrow to a living room that had been bewitched orange and black. The work of Fred and George, no doubt, thought Harry. There was plenty of butterbeer for all of them, and Ron got patted on the back so many times that Harry thought he might end up with permanent handprints. He was happy that Ron was the center of attention for a change. He definitely deserved it. Harry sat back on the couch, beaming. Ron threw him several delighted smiles. When the excitement had calmed down a little, Ron went over to the couch and sat next to Harry.
"Want to go upstairs?" he asked.
"Sure," answered Harry. "But I think they all want you down here."
"Don't worry, I'll make up something." After a minute, Ron turned to Mrs. Weasley and said, "Mum, is it ok if I go upstairs? I'm a little tired. Thought I might lie down."
"Certainly, dear!" she said. "It's a wonder you're not absolutely exhausted after the game. I'll call you when dinner is ready."
Ron got up, headed for the staircase, and motioned for Harry to follow him.
Once upstairs in Ron's room, Harry rushed over and closed his arms around Ron. Ron wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.
"It feels good to have you so close," he whispered into Harry's hair. Harry murmured in agreement and hugged Ron even closer.
"You really did play great today," Harry told him.
"I guess the worst is over now. I mean, we've had our first game and lost spectacularly to Puddlemere. It can only get better, right?" he asked with a laugh. He released his hold on Harry and led him by the hand over to the bed.
"Here, sit," he said, patting the blanket next to him. "I've been doing some thinking about that talk I'm going to have with Mum and Dad tomorrow," he said. Harry's eyes darted to the floor. In all the excitement of the game, he had completely forgotten about what Ron planned on doing tomorrow.
"I don't know if you want to stick around for it or not," Ron continued. "Maybe you'd rather not be here. You could walk into town or something, and I could come get you when it's over. If Mum doesn't break both my legs, that is."
"I'll do whatever you want. If you think it'd be easier with me gone, I'll get lost. But if want me around, I'll be there for you."
Ron looked at him slowly. "I think I'd feel better if you were here," he said.
"Then I'll be there," Harry said, leaning over and giving him a kiss.
"Well, now that that's settled, how about a nap? I sure could do with one.
Come here," he said, pulling Harry down with him.
Harry allowed himself to be pulled down, landing heavily on Ron's chest. Ron still smelled like soap from his shower, and Harry snuggled even closer to him, burying his face in Ron's neck. Harry didn't plan on laying here for long.
With the house full, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone came up here. He was so content to just lay there with Ron that he couldn't help but close his eyes and enjoy the moment.
Soon both boys were fast asleep. They didn't notice when the door opened a few hours later and Bill stuck his head in to tell them that supper was ready. He closed the door silently behind him and went back downstairs, trying to come up with a good excuse for why they wouldn't be down for supper.