"Ah! Mistress Weasley!" the elf squeaked, "Dobby is so happy to see that you have slept well! You like vanilla tea with milk and sugar, right miss? Dobby made some, and he hopes you like it!"
Molly Weasley was still in a state of shock as the elf took her by the hand and lead her to the comfortable dining chair at the head of the table, pulled the chair out for her, and then proceeded bustling around the kitchen making her favorite tea.
Looking around at the once dreary kitchen, she seemed to see for the first time just how many "homey touches" the elf had put up since his official hire by Harry the previous afternoon. The main backdrop behind the table was the painting of Harry that the elf himself had made and given to his master the previous Christmas. The elf had also enchanted the walls of the basement kitchen to have magical windows that reflected the current outside weather- today showed a high likelihood of sun with scattered clouds.
Not long after she had begun sipping her tea (amazingly brewed to her precise liking) and buttering a roll the four younger residents of the house began drifting into the kitchen- presumably woken by the glorious smells that were wafting up the stairs. Unsurprisingly, the first to enter the kitchen was Ron, stifling a yawn and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. After the sleep had been successfully removed, the redhead's eyes widened when he saw the banquet of food that had just been placed on the table. He sat down to the left of his mother, and began piling eggs, warm porridge, and pancakes on his plate. His mouth being far to stuffed to acknowledge Harry and the girls' entrance to the kitchen, he just raised his arm in the air, and waved at them with his fork.
Harry laughed, and sat down across from Ron, Ginny at his side while Hermione joined Ron on the other side of the table. Dobby began bustling around, refilling the plates of eggs and other breakfast delicacies before coming around the table and tugging on the hem of Harry's shirt.
"Yes, Dobby?" Harry asked, pleasantly, " The breakfast is AMAZING, by the way! Thanks! What's up?"
"Oh, Master Harry!" the elf squeaked, looking at his large feet. Harry was under the distinct impression that he was blushing.
"Master Harry, Dobby is making you a welcome home gift, and he hopes that Harry Potter is not upset! Dobby would only be so happy if Harry would like it!"
The elf removed from underneath his hat (one of the many that Hermione had knit for the Hogwarts house elves the previous year) a homemade card and a pair of self-knit wool socks.
The socks were made of
deep green wool, and had little number 12s stitched onto them in
black. Harry smiled at the elf's thoughtfulness in making the socks
and embroidering them with his new address, and turned to open the
card.
Looking down he saw that it showed a drawing of a painting
with a large banner reading "Welcome Home Master Harry!" above
it. Harry looked at the painting and saw that inside its frame the
elf had drawn picture of Harry in the center, with Hermione, Ron,
Ginny, Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley
surrounding him on all sides.
The frame had been labeled "My
Family", and Dobby had signed the card ("Love, Dobby the House
Elf") himself. Harry smiled at the elf, which was still staring
sheepishly at the ground shuffling his feet.
"Dobby?" Harry asked, "I really love it! Thank you so much! Do you think that you would like to REALLY paint this picture, and hang it somewhere in the house so everyone could see it?"
The elf looked up in surprise. "REALLY, Master Harry? Oh, Dobby would love to! Dobby will try so hard to make the painting beautiful, so Harry Potter and everyone will love to see it! Oh thank you, Master Harry, Thank You!"
The elf started to cry, and Ginny took the card from Harry to see what all the fuss was about. She opened it, and a large smile lit up her face as she passed it across the table to Hermione.
"Um, Master Harry?" the elf squeaked, tentatively, "Do you think, that, um, when Dobby has finished, that he could maybe sign the painting in the corner, like the real artists do? It is okay if Harry Potter does not want Dobby's name to be on the picture, Dobby just thought that-"
"Dobby," Harry interrupted kindly, "I wouldn't have it any other way. If you want, I will buy the paint and supplies for you in Diagon Alley today, or you can use your own wages to buy them instead, if you'd prefer. And since you are cleaning Grimmauld Place, along with Hogwarts, I will match what Dumbledore pays you for wages, since you are doing extra work."
"Oh, Master Harry is too, too good to Dobby! Dobby couldn't take money from Harry Potter, and he wants to buy all the paints and brushes with his own wages. Oh, can Dobby have permission to get started now, sir?"
Harry laughed, "Of course, Dobby, and don't worry about cleaning up, we'll take care of it."
"Oh!" cried Dobby, "Is the masters and mistresses finished already?" Upon receiving a nod from everyone around the table, Dobby snapped his fingers, and all the dishes magically emptied, cleaned themselves and began to fly over to the cupboards. The occupants of the kitchen stared in disbelief, and then thanked Dobby, as he ran bowing from the room on his way to buy paints, brushes and canvas.
As Dobby ran out of the room, a large golden feather flashed above the kitchen table, and after it drifted down to rest, they group could see that their Hogwarts letters had arrived from Dumbledore.
Mrs. Weasley smiled, "Doesn't miss a trick, you've got to love Dumbledore!"
She passed out each letter to its recipient and headed out the door to prepare for the trip to Diagon Alley.
"Well! Open up, so we can get going! I'll go call Remus, Alastor, Tonks and Kingsley so we can get started quick quick! See you in a jiff!"
Ron, Hermione and Harry suddenly looked apprehensive. They knew these letters contained their O.W.L. results, and all seemed to lose their happy go lucky attitudes. Ron shoved his letter across the table to Hermione.
"You do it," he said nervously, "I can't bear to look."
"Oh Ron!" she admonished, "Don't be such a wuss!" but even Harry could see her hands shaking out of nervousness as she broke the letter's seal.
Behind the usual page of "The Term begins on September 1st", and "your books for the term are as follows, blah blah blah" Hermione found what she (or Ron, rather) was looking for.
OWL
Scores
Mr. Ronald Weasley
History of Magic
Written:
A
Final: A
Transfiguration
Written: O
Practical:
E
Final: E
Astronomy
Written: A
Practical: P
Final:
A
Care of Magical Creatures
Written: O
Practical:
O
Final: O
Divination
Written: E
Practical: P
Final:
A
Potions
Written: O
Practical: E
Final:
O
Charms
Written: E
Practical: O
Final: O
Defense
Against the Dark Arts
Written: E
Practical: O
Final:
O
Herbology
Written: E
Practical: E
Final: E
As you understand, Mr. Weasley, a grade of O in any of the written, practical or final grade categories constitute an OWL. May I personally congratulate you on your outstanding achievement of 10 OWLs, and wish you the best of luck in your remaining years of study.
Sincerely,
Madam Marchbanks
Head of OWL
Office
"Ron!" cried Hermione excitedly, "You got TEN OWLs! I'm so happy for you!"
"What?" gasped Ron in disbelief, "I don't believe you! Give me that!" He snatched the letter out of Hermione's hands and read it, eyes growing wide the further down the paper he read. Shaking, he sat down, and passed the paper to Ginny to read.
"Nice one big bro!" she smiled, giving him a hug. "I knew you'd do well! Now who's next?"
Hermione seemed unable to contain herself any longer and ripped open her envelope.
OWL
Scores
Miss Hermione Granger
History of Magic
Written:
E
Final: E
Transfiguration
Written: O
Practical:
O
Final: O
Astronomy
Written: O
Practical: A
Final:
E
Care of Magical Creatures
Written: E
Practical:
A
Final: E
Arithmancy
Written: E
Practical: O
Final:
O
Potions
Written: O
Practical: O
Final:
O
Charms
Written: O
Practical: O
Final: O
Defense
Against the Dark Arts
Written: O
Practical: O
Final:
O
Herbology
Written: E
Practical: E
Final: E
Ancient
Runes
Written: O
Practical: E
Final: E
As you understand, Miss Granger, a grade of O in any of the written, practical or final grade categories constitute an OWL. May I personally congratulate you on your outstanding achievement of 16 OWLs, and wish you the best of luck in your remaining years of study.
Sincerely,
Madam Marchbanks
Head of OWL
Office
"Well?" prompted Ginny, "How did you do?"
Hermione blushed. "Oh, I, um, I did all right. How about you, Ha- HEY!"
Ron had
snatched the paper out of her hands and glanced quickly down to the
bottom of the page- the final number was all he was interested in; he
could look at the rest later.
"Hermione! You got 16 OWLs! That
is like, IMPOSSIBLE! Er, well, I guess it's not, seeing as you
just DID it, but- wow! Good job!"
"Ron!" fumed Hermione, "that's MINE, you had no right to- ugh. Oh well. You would have found out eventually anyway. Thanks. You did really well, too."
Ron swept her up in a hug, and planted a large kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, 'Mione. Well, Harry? How did it go?"
Harry held his letter up for them to see- he was speechless.
OWL
Scores
Mr. Harry Potter
History of Magic
Written:
P
Final: P
Transfiguration
Written: E
Practical:
O
Final: O
Astronomy
Written: A
Practical: A
Final:
A
Care of Magical Creatures
Written: O
Practical:
O
Final: O
Divination
Written: A
Practical: A
Final:
E
Potions
Written: O
Practical: E
Final:
O
Charms
Written: E
Practical: O
Final: O
Defense
Against the Dark Arts
Written: O
Practical: O
Final:
O
Herbology
Written: E
Practical: E
Final: E
As you understand, Mr. Potter, a grade of O in any of the written, practical or final grade categories constitute an OWL. May I personally congratulate you on your outstanding achievement of 12 OWLs, and wish you the best of luck in your remaining years of study.
Sincerely,
Madam Marchbanks
Head of OWL
Office
"Ooh! Harry!" Ginny cooed, "You did wonderfully!" and she leaned over to peck him on the cheek.
"Yeah mate," Ron agreed. "Nice."
Harry looked at Hermione, and prayed that she would catch what he did- by her expression he wagered that she had.
"Um, Harry…" she began tentatively, "How is it that you, um, I don't really know how to ask?"
"I know!" Harry cried out in frustration, as Ginny and Ron's gazes jerked towards his sudden outburst.
"Come on, mate!" interjected Ron, "I'd be thrilled if I got 12 OWL's. I mean, I'm happy with 10, but still! What's all the fuss abo-"
"The FUSS," supplied Harry, "is how in bloody hell could I get an E in Divination when I got A's on both the written AND the practical? It makes no sense!"
Ron and Ginny both grabbed for the letter to look more closely. "Woah! She's right! How IS that possible?" mused Ron.
Ginny made a small cough, and the trio turned to her in apprehension.
"Well, maybe whomever
was grading your exams found out about the whole You-Know-Who thing
and how you're kind of 'predicting' his feelings and plans and
stuff, and so they thought that you must have some talent at the
subject or something.
"I mean, maybe they think since the
scar and stuff, you can predict what's going on in You-Know-Who's
mind and stuff, so they decided to give you a better
grade."
Hermione slowly nodded, "That seems to be the really only logical explanation. But, if I were you Harry, I'd ask Dumbledore right away!"
Harry nodded in agreement. Desperately trying to find something to get the attention off of him, he saw Ginny's letter lying on the table.
"Hey Gin, you still need to open yours. It's Prefect year for you, little lady! See what's inside!"
Ginny paled slightly, and then shook her head defiantly and picked up her letter, and whispered so only Harry could hear,
" I don't want to be prefect. Fred and George weren't prefects, and look how successful they are! Ugh, oh well."
She braved a very large (and very fake) smile, and
then spoke louder to Ron and Hermione,
"Here goes nothin'!"
she declared.
Hermione, Ron and Harry watched on their toes while she ripped open the envelope and turned it upside-down. There was a flash of silver as a shiny new prefect's badge fell into her hand. Hermione squealed with delight, and Ron gave his sister a hug.
"Damn." Ginny whispered. "I wanted to show mum that Fred and George weren't the ONLY ones that weren't prefects and turned out all right. Now I'm a prat, just like Percy."
"Hey!" yelled Ron in mock outrage, "I'M not a prat! But don't worry, sis, we don't have to tell Fred and George, but I bet mum won't let it wait a minute to tell the world there's another Weasley prefect at Hogwa-"
Mrs. Weasley running frantically into the kitchen and grabbing Ginny into a huge smothering hug cut off Ron. Apparently, she had been waiting and eavesdropping just outside the door for this particular moment.
"Oh Ginny! Is it true? You were made Prefect? Oh HONEY! Your father will be so proud! Oh, Ginevra! I just can't believe it! I- oh, what do you want honey? You've got to have a reward for this! We'll get it today when we go to Diagon Alley! Well, Kingsley, Remus and Alastor are here, so we best get moving! Oh, my baby girl! A PREFECT! Now, run along dears and get your things, we'll be ready to portkey in a minute!"
The jolly group adjourned to their rooms to grab summer cloaks and moneybags, and upon return to the kitchen found that Tonks, Lupin, Moody and Shacklebolt had Apparated in to accompany them on their trip to Diagon Alley. Harry sighed, knowing that the reason they were there was to act as his advance guard again in case anything went wrong, but he still couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed that he was essentially on just as tight a leash in the wizarding world as he had been back at the Dursley's. Even still, with prospects of spending the day with his two best friends, and new girlfriend in Diagon Alley was bright enough to cause him to not mind being fussed over like a five year old.
While Kingsley busied himself setting up a Portkey for them to travel directly into the back room of "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes", Harry and the rest of the group arranged themselves so they could all have access to the kitchen stool they were using as a Portkey.
"Everyone ready?" asked Kingsley Shacklebolt, in his deep voice, "All hands on? Okay then. On three- one, two, three!"
For the second time that summer, Harry once again felt himself being pulled along in a swirling wind of color and sound.
