Potter47 Part One
Old Friends "Now, Dorothy, dear, stop imagining things.
You always get yourself into a fret over nothing. " Chapter Five
To See the Wizard
As Harry sat down at the kitchen table, both of the twins were still intently glaring at him, from the opposite chairs. Ginny was sitting next to Harry, looking at her brothers in a not-all-that-nice way. And Mrs Weasley was bustling around the kitchen, whistling a tune and cooking what seemed to be seven different meals, despite the lack-of-seven-different-people. One of the twins was grudgingly finishing a plate of eggs that had been already on the table when they came down.
"So, here are your eggs, Harry," said Mrs Weasley, placing the plate in front of him. "And yours, Ginny," she said, putting the next plate down as well.
"But I said I--" Harry was clearly going to say "wasn't hungry," but stopped at the look on Mrs Weasley's face. "Er...thank you Mrs Weasley."
"You're very welcome, Harry," she replied, smiling at him.
"What about me?" asked the non-fed twin. "Do I have to get all the way up to make myself a bowl of cereal? Have you no thoughts of my feelings? How could you leave out your favourite son...." He looked close to tears.
"For that attitude," Mrs Weasley said menacingly, "I won't make your breakfast. And you don't deserve a proper meal after how you treated Harry. Who do you think he is? You're lucky I don't let Ginny have her way, or you'd be deader than a hobbit."
What? You've never heard the expression deader than a hobbit before? Merlin's beard, I thought everyone knew the legend! You see, hobbits (according to wizarding myth) died out a long, long time ago, and have since become figures of fairy-tales, bedtime-stories, and, as you can see, death threats. It is universally agreed that there is not a single hobbit left on the face of the earth, which is how the phrase originated. It wasn't all that nice of a thing to say, however, and it wasn't something Molly Weasley routinely said to her children -- her use of it in this instance basically meant that she was mad at her son.
Said son, however, was smirking smugly, as his mother had just unknowingly been hoodwinked (as if you could knowingly be hoodwinked). She thought he actually wanted the eggs. Ha! He just happened to be the only one who had escaped his mother's breakfast (not that it wasn't tasty -- he just felt defiant).
But, alas, the joke was on him. As he reached into the cabinet to pull out his "Lucky Charms" cereal, his sister's voice interrupted his gloating thoughts. "Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you. I finished Dad's cereal last night. I s'pose you'll just have to eat those eggs Mum just finished cooking..."
Damn it.
Arthur Weasley was happy.
He was, in fact, happier than he thought a man could be, when his entire family was in danger, being prime targets of the world's most evil wizard. He was happier than he had been in quite a while. In fact, as his day at the Ministry wound down, he found himself whistling a tune.
Arthur Weasley didn't always like his workday. He loved his job, of course, but the hours could be a wee bit crazy. Often, during the summer mostly, he found himself working throughout the night, and returning to the Burrow only in time for breakfast. Hopefully, Molly would let him have his Muggle cereal today. Of course, the twins may have already finished it...
But today, he loved his workday. It meant that Ginny wouldn't have to wait another whole day. He'd finally been able to get it! It was safe in the Muggle backpack he had packed it in.
Taking out his wand, he muttered "Iterius!" After the familiar jolt, he found himself outside his kitchen door.
Upon entering the Burrow, he realised that, first and foremost, his cereal was not being eaten at the moment. Yay! Secondly, however, he noticed something that was just as unexpected.
"Harry! Merlin, what are you doing here?"
"Uwuore ed at--" said Harry, through a mouthful of eggs. He swallowed. "Dumbledore said that I wasn't safe at Privet Drive. Fawkes took me here."
Not safe at Privet Drive? But what about...
"What do you mean--oh, thank you Molly--what do you mean you weren't safe? Dumbledore's always said that it was the only place you were safe." He began to munch on the toast his wife had just pushed into his hands.
"Dementors," said Harry.
Ginny, who was eyeing the bag on her father's back suspiciously, repeated what Harry had told them. "Dumbledore said that Harry wasn't safe from Dementors." She looked at Harry confusedly. "But the Dementors are at Azkaban. How would they get to you? Last year was only because of Umbridge--"
"You haven't heard?" Harry cut her off. He turned his gaze to her father. "I'd thought you would be the first to know, being so close to Dumbledore."
He looked guilty. "Well, I knew. But I thought I'd wait to tell everyone." He looked over his shoulder a bit. "There's something I wanted to--"
"Tell us what, Dad?" asked one of the twins.
"Yeah, you've been holding out on us?" said the other. "We're Order members now!"
"Er...well, I just found out. I couldn't have said anything yet. I'm just now seeing you. I've been at work all night--"
"Tell us what, Arthur?" said Molly impatiently.
"The Dementors have revolted," said Harry.
The eyes of everyone in the room -- save Errol, who was perched miserably on his perch in the corner, and did indeed need to be saved -- turned around from Arthur to Harry.
"Revolted?" said Molly weakly. "As in, rebelled? I sincerely hope you mean something else...I've always been revolted by Dementors, but to have the Dementors revolt..."
"Yes," said Arthur. "They have rebelled. And now I understand exactly why Harry is here."
The twins looked at each other for a moment. "Er," said one. "We've got to get to the shop," he said, voice lacking the usual humour. "Breakfast was great, Mum." He got up out of his seat, to be followed by his brother. "See you later."
"Be careful," said their mother softly, as they went through the kitchen door.
"Well," said Arthur, finally sitting down. "There is some good news today." He smiled at his daughter. "Guess what I was finally able to get?"
A look of horror came over her face. "Oh, please tell me you didn't get that doll I asked for when I was four--"
"What doll?" asked Harry curiously.
"Nothing," said Ginny hurriedly. She looked pleadingly at her father, as if begging her nightmare wasn't true.
"Doll?" said her father confusedly. He glanced at Harry. A look of recollection came over his face. "Oh, that doll....No, that's not it. I forgot about that years ago." He grinned at her, and added, "Thanks for reminding me. I'll pick it up for you sometime."
"NO!"
"Just joking, little Gin. I would never embarrass you like that." Ginny's face showed that she was not quite so sure. But he didn't comment on that. "Well, any more guesses?"
"Could I guess?" asked Harry suddenly.
"Sure," said Mr Weasley, obviously pleased that the conversation had taken such a brighter turn.
Harry was obviously very confident in his guess. "Something Muggle?" he ventured.
"Correct!" said Mr Weasley. "Care to be a bit more specific?"
"No," said Harry. "I just was sure it was something Muggle."
"Wait a minute..." said Ginny. "You didn't get the--" she paused, trying to get the correct letters. "RVC?"
"No, I didn't. I got the V-C-R."
"Same thing!" she said happily. "You really got it? Finally!"
"What's with this fascination in Muggle things, Ginny?" asked her mother.
"Oh, she got a movie," said Arthur, "and she wants to watch it."
Harry suddenly seemed to realise what they were talking about, and promptly turned red. Only Ginny seemed to notice, thankfully.
"But why not get a movie-watcher?" asked his wife. "How can a bunch of letters let you watch a movie?"
Arthur pulled his bag from his back. From out of it, as if by magic, came an object much larger than the bag itself. Oh, right; it was magic. He'd charmed the bag. The object was a black rectangle, with a slot on one side, and a bunch of buttons.
"It connects to the veletision, which I'll bring in from my shed. It might take a minute or two, of course. But you'll be able to watch your movie before the day is done."
As Arthur could see in her eyes, Ginny was very happy. He still wondered just how she'd come by a Muggle tape. They didn't normally pop up at Hogwarts, you see. He dismissed the thought, reckoning that Hermione must have leant it to her. Yes, that made sense.
"So what are you waiting for?" asked Ginny eagerly. "Go do it!"
"Let your father eat," said Molly. "If you're both done, why don't you and Harry go out in the living room and do...whatever it is that you do when waiting for your father to put together a Muggle...something. You could talk, I suppose."
And so, they left Mr and Mrs Weasley to their own devices, and sat down on the living room sofa. Next to each other, naturally.
There was a almost awkward quiet, for a minute or two, until Harry broke the silence.
"How've you been?" he asked.
"Dreadful," she said truthfully. "I haven't had a good night sleep in weeks."
"Me neither," he said gloomily, looking at his feet.
Once again, no one said a thing for a while. Harry continued to mentally interrogate his sneakers, while Ginny simply looked at him. He looks so...sad, she thought. But why? There's no reason to be.
"Well, you're here now, Harry," she said ardently. "There's no point to moping around. You were fine a couple minutes ago," she pointed out.
"Well, I just..." he started, before looking up at her and starting again. "I just hate this."
"What? Hate what?"
"This!" he threw his arms up in exasperation. "The Dementors, Voldemort, the stupid prophecy. People are dying, Ginny. And I'm sitting here, waiting to watch the Wizard of Oz." He stood up again, and began to pace. "If I'm supposed to be this one with the power, don't you think I should be doing something? I should have just left Privet Drive...Maybe I could've taken the fight to him. Maybe I could just end this. Better than waste time."
Ginny had stood up as well. Harry was being stubborn again; it was her job to solve things. "Harry, you know it's not that simple. He'd kill you the second your foot hits the street." She stood right in front of him, and the pacing stopped. "And are you forgetting how exactly your supposed to kill him?"
"No, I'm not forgetting. I don't even know. If I knew, than I wouldn't be here would I?"
He turned, as if to continue pacing in the other direction. She put her hands on his shoulders, to stop him. "Harry, if you ever are going to beat him, you need to believe." Her voice, which had begun just as vigorous as his, had softened, and she had stepped closer. "Believe that you can. Don't forget that he hasn't been able to get to you get. And don't forget what that power is either."
Harry's eyes, which had been blazing, almost red, had returned to their usual green colour. "Power?"
"Love, remember?" she said, moving still closer, and letting her arms move up to his neck.
"Oh, right. That." She kissed him.
Actually, that's not exactly the right way to phrase that. Sure, she did kiss him, but he was doing an equal bit of kissing himself. Perhaps, they kissed each other would have been more accurate. But, however how you slice it, the job was done. Voldemort was definitely the last thing on Harry's mind now.
"You know, these eggs really are excellent," said Arthur thoughtfully, chewing. "Better than usual, even."
"Yes, yes, thank you. Now shhh!" Molly shushed her husband, who was really quite distracting. Couldn't he see she was busy? This was important!
"What are you doing, anyway, Molly?" he asked curiously, crunching a slice of bacon in his mouth.
"Watching. You'll never believe what just happened..."
"What?" he said. "Watching what?"
"Our daughter is snogging the Boy Who Lived," she informed him happily.
"What?" he said, sure that he had misheard. "I could've sworn you said snogging." Not only was the idea quite laughable, but that wasn't the kind of word you would hear Molly Weasley say just any day. It just didn't sound right, to hear snogging issue forth from her mouth. Maybe from Molly Prewett. Before she was a mother, Molly wasn't nearly as...motherly. Obviously.
"No, you didn't mishear," she said smugly. "And it doesn't exactly seem like they're new to this...but why keep it a secret?"
"What?" said Arthur again. He put down his fork and stood up. He walked to the door, where Molly was peering out through a slightly-pulled-back curtain. "They're snogging?"
Indeed. Arthur's jaw dropped.
"Hmm," said Molly. "When I said 'do whatever it is that you do when waiting for your father to put something together' I didn't mean this!"
"Th-they are. When did that happen? I never would've thought..."
"Oh, I did," said Molly, not taking her eyes off the couple. "I've suspected that for years. Ever since the Chamber. After this past year, though, I knew it was only a matter of time..."
"Well, I always reckoned she fancied him a bit, but I didn't think it was mutual." He, too, could not look away from the pair. "We'd better stop them..."
He reached down for the doorknob. Molly caught his wrist.
"And let them know we've been watching?!" she demanded, furious. "Honestly, if there's one thing you don't do toa teenage girl, it's infringing on her privacy. She won't forgive you until you're older than Albus."
"But we can't just sit here!" he said. "What am I supposed to do, just watch?"
"No, Arthur," she said pushing him away from the door. "I'll watch. If things get out of hand, I'll do something. Now go get that veletision."
"Yes..." he said, craning his neck to get a glimpse of the next room. "I suppose I should."
He made no move for the door.
"Then go!"
"Oh, right, right." And he went. Molly, of course, went right back to her post at the door.
"But why keep it a secret?" she said, to no-one-in-particular. It just didn't make sense.
It didn't take too long for Arthur Weasley to get the veletision from the shed. It wasn't a large one; just about half-a-metre cross the top. When he looked at the back, he could see there was a cord attached to one of the little circley-things. He assumed it was the one to connect the VCR (hoped, more like).
He brought it in through the kitchen, the way he went out, so as to avoid any...undesirable confrontations. He didn't know where he was going to put the set, if Harry and Ginny were still in the living room, doing things.
Harry and Ginny. He couldn't seem to fathom the idea of the two actually...together. Little Gin and the Boy Who Lived. He remembered when Ginny was little, he had bought her a Harry Potter storybook. She had become obsessed with the thing, either reading it to her stuffed animals, reading it to herself, or demanding it be read to her, at all times.
He had never even realised that she likely would meet Harry Potter until Molly had told him of the encounter at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He had figured she fancied the boy after that, with the way she was always talking of him -- and it was truly always. But he'd never thought they might seriously...date.
Apparently, Molly had predicted it after the Chamber incident. Three years prior! He probably should have thought it too. Looking back, he couldn't believe he hadn't made the connection.
Ginny owed her life to Harry. Life Magic and Love Magic are two very close subjects. The saving of someone's life isn't always repaid simply by returning the favour. It is much more complicated than that. Depending on the circumstances, Arthur had heard, a life-debt could forge a bond that was unbreakable. Such a bond that is eternal, and even transcends death.
Apparently, those circumstances matched Harry and Ginny.
But they weren't the only unique circumstances around the two. No, that was just the beginning...
BANG!
"Bloody--OW!" screamed Arthur, loudly, but not loudly enough to attract attention. Actually, this was untrue: a passing gnome, Arthur noticed, turned his head.
Lost in his thoughts, Arthur hadn't been watching where he had been going. He had banged right into the kitchen doorway, with the veletision in his hands. The resonating vibration shook him, and he promptly stubbed his toe, as well. For the life of him, he couldn't remember why he hadn't levitated the thing. It would have been much easier.
Steadily taking the last few steps, his toe throbbing, he placed the veletision down on the kitchen table. Molly was sitting down at the other end of the table, sipping a mug of coffee and humming a tune.
"They went upstairs," she said, "so you can put that in the living room."
Arthur did a double take. "They what! And you let them? What happened to 'If things get out of hand, I'll do something?'"
He looked at him oddly. "What are you talking--oh! No, that's not what I--they took Harry's trunk up to Percy's room. I don't mean they went upstairs," she said in her scolding voice. "Honestly, Arthur...jumping to conclusions...I basically told them to clear out, suggesting they take Harry's trunk upstairs. I said you'd need privacy to hook up that thing."
"Oh," said Arthur, relaxing. "That's alright then."
Neither said anything for a minute. Finally, Molly raised her eyebrows. "Shouldn't you be putting something together..."
"Oh, right."
And so he went.
"IT'S READY!" called Arthur up the stairs. He had expected Harry and Ginny to be back down before he was finished. After all, how long does it take to put a trunk upstairs? Of course, they'd probably done more than just that while away from prying eyes. He didn't particularly want to think about it.
A minute later, two rather red teenagers were at the bottom of the stairs, eager to not seem suspicious. Of course, if one is 'eager' not to be suspicious, they are more suspicious than even the worst and most obvious criminals. However, this isn't particularly relevant, as both other humans in the house knew perfectly well what they were hiding.
Ginny handed her father the video tape. The Wizard of Oz. He put it in the slot on the front of the VCR, and actually thought to put the veletision on '3' (he'd heard you were supposed to do that).
Harry and Ginny sat, a little closer than was normal, on the sofa, and faced the screen. It began to play.
story has given faithful service to
the Young in Heart; and Time has
been powerless to put its kindly
philosophy out of fashion.To those of you who have
been faithful to it in return...and to the Young in Heart
…we dedicate this picture."
It began.
Good Eats "This -- is London."
Edward Roscoe MurrowComing Soon