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Boiled Beetroot

Charlie dropped a couple of plates at dinner, which he repaired easily with a wave of his wand. Rose had watched the process closely, which the whole family had noticed, but climbed up to sit beside Harry at the table with equanimity, eyeing the tempting food laid out before her.

"Can I have some of that, Daddy?" she pointed to the boiled beetroot, and Harry speared one with his fork, laying it on his own plate while he finished putting a meal together for Rose. This was the family's first real glimpse of him being a father, and Ron noted once more how well his friend seemed suited to the task.

"You won't like it, so you can try some of mine," Harry cut a small slice off, and handed the fork to Rose, who took it defiantly and chewed vigorously. A moment later the Weasley's were nearly crying with laughter as her eyes widened and the most disgusted and revolted expression imaginable crawled over her expressive face. Harry calmly handed her a glass of water and helped her sip it.

"Good girl for trying," he rubbed her back, "Eat some of Nanny's mash - she makes the best in the world."

"Better than yours?" Rose asked, picking up her fork obediently while her aunts and uncles calmed down and her Nanny beamed at her Daddy. Harry nodded and Rose tried a bit, nodding back emphatically once she'd chewed a few times. The mash was flavoured with fresh chives, which easily disguised the beetroot flavour. Harry finished cutting her bangers into pieces and Ron slid his friend's now full plate in front of him, which earned the redhead and affectionate look.

Dinner conversation consisted of people sharing their day at work, with explanations where needed for Harry and Rose. She called the twins Gred and Forge several times, which made them quite happy. Molly's old joke had been passed on to another generation, a continuity that they obviously found comforting. Under the cover of the general conversation, Harry leaned in to speak to Ron.

"You didn't tell me Ginny was pregnant. Why didn't the father come tonight?" the soft question tickled Ron's ear, and he smiled. Harry was discrete - he'd barely blinked when he saw Ginny, hugging her and accepting her scolding with good grace.

"He dumped her when he found out," Ron said just as quietly, "We don't discuss it, and she'll have all the help she ever needs."

Harry nodded and sat up again. Ron wondered if Harry would attempt to renew his relationship with Ginny. His friend had never loved her as more than a sibling, but Ginny had carried a huge crush on his friend all through school, no matter who she'd dated. If Harry were to get involved with Ginny now, their mother would be happy, as Ginny would have a loving husband that understood her to some degree, and there would be a double tie to the Weasley family, in the shape of Harry's 'adoption' and his marriage to the only daughter. In addition, Rose would gain a brother or sister, probably more than one. Ron put those thoughts aside, preferring to live in the moment for now, and not borrow heartache.

"Uncle Charlie," Rose's voice broke into a momentary lull, "How did you fix the plates with that stick?"

Ron was immediately relieved that Rose hadn't chosen to interrogate him and gave his friend a smart arse look. Harry rolled his eyes and cut his beetroot. He evidently wasn't going to help answer this one.

"Well," Charlie foundered for a moment, "It was just a magic spell, Rosie, and my stick is called a wand."

"Magic like the magicians do?" Rose tilted her head and Harry nudged her to eat some of her carrots while she waited for a reply. Charlie glanced around the table for help, and Hermione took up the question.

"No, the magicians don't really do magic," she smiled across the table at her niece, "They use very special objects to help them do tricks that look like magic but really aren't."

"But if Uncle Charlie and Ron aren't magicians, and use a wand, then what are they?" Rose swallowed her carrots and squinted at Hermione, trying to understand. She glanced helplessly about, and Fred took a turn.

"Well, Rosie girl, there are two types of people in the world. There are magic folk, and non magic folk."

"That's right," George chimed in, nodding, "The non magic folk are called Muggles, and they're men and women that you see every day."

"The Magic folk have two names," Bill continued when it appeared that George was floundering, "A magical boy or man is called a Wizard. Your Uncle Charlie is a Wizard, all of us are."

"If you're a girl, you're called a Witch," Ginny completed the explanation, and there was a faint air of triumph at having explained what they all took for granted, "I'm a Witch, and so is Nanny and Aunty Hermione."

"Am I a Witch, daddy?" Rose looked up at her father, who smiled gently, pride in his expression.

"You are," he nodded, and Ron noticed his family's pleasure at that confirmation. Rose wasn't finished though, and her next question electrified them.

"Are you a Wizard, Daddy?"

"No, petal, I'm not," Harry's smile didn't falter, "I used to be, but I had a very big accident, and now I'm not any more. When you're old enough, I'll tell you all about it."

"Your daddy saved a lot of lives with his magic," Arthur butted in, "In fact he saved a world with it. He's a hero, Rosie. Do you know what that means?"

"Someone who is a slow runner," Rose nodded and there was an incredulous silence, followed by an explosion of laughter. Harry blushed, as it was obviously something that he'd told her long ago, and Ron elbowed him affectionately. Molly got up to clear the table for pudding, and Harry got up to help, instructing his daughter to stay seated. She wriggled along the bench to snuggle into Ron's side, watching Bill and Fred cry with laughter and Ginny hold her stomach as she tried to cope with hiccups. Ron put his arm around her and thought about Harry and his sacrifice.

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