Chapter 3 - Growing Pains
It keeps growing inside me, this feeling that I cannot control my actions. Like a virus. But it hasn't gotten me yet. I wonder if he has something to do with this. I think my family is beginning to suspect. As long as they don't find out why I'm really going... Although even I don't know that. It hasn't gotten me yet.
Harry fell through the fireplace and straightened back up in the Weasleys' living room. Hermione and a taller, older Ginny were standing over Hermione's luggage, laughing happily. Ginny turned to look at Harry and went quiet. "How are you, Harry?" She asked, pausing hesitantly. "I mean, since... you know."
"I'm fine," Harry answered a bit abruptly.
"I'll take your things up to Ron's room," she said, giving him a brief smile. "Ron's in the kitchen on potato duty." She and Hermione started dragging luggage toward the stairs.
Harry walked into the kitchen. Ron was standing over a large pot, a potato peeler in one hand and half of a badly peeled potato in the other. He was tapping a bare foot onto the tile floor softly and singing, "... if you still care at all, don't go tell me now..." He had also changed -- he no longer fit the description "gangly", but now lingered near the line of "thin." He had also tanned under his freckles, which were even present on his elbowsand feet.
Ron looked up and curled up a corner of his lip, groaning, "I hate peeling potatoes." Harry smiled, and moved over to his friend, picking up an extra peeler from the countertop. He glanced out the window to see a rapidly moving Quidditch game with more players than was usual for the Weasley house to carry. He looked out the window again and saw a familiar person playing Keeper in front of a few hula-hoops tied to trees. He squinted, then turned back to Ron.
"Is Oliver here?"
Ron grinned. "Oh, yeah. Fred and George are convinced I'm to be Keeper again, so they called in a 'professional.' I'm not sure how good all the practice has done me, but it's wicked having him here. And besides, Bill and Charlie are here for the summer. And Bill's got a girlfriend! Nobody knows who it is, but he says we'll meet her soon." He shrugged and said, "So, how's your summer been?"
"I've been having-" Harry stopped, pondering whether or not to tell Ron about his nightmares. He could imagine the uproar it would cause, and since he never remembered much of them, it would be pointless anyway. "- a better time than usual, as Dudley was off at boxing camp for half of it."
Ron sniggered. "Surprised he wasn't the only one to fit into the place! How many kitchens does this camp have?" They both laughed, and Ron threw the last potato into the pot of water. "That's it, I'm giving up. What do you say we go out and play?"
Harry agreed, and the two stomped up the stairs to get brooms. Ron swung the door to his slightly de-oranged room open to the sight of two girls sitting on his bed, chatting happily, with an array of makeshift camp beds and mattresses strewn across the floor.
"What are you doing in here!" Ron cried indignantly. The girls looked up, obviously annoyed, and Hermione said, "Nice to see you too, Ron. Yes, thank you, I've had a lovely summer."
"I'll bet," Ron muttered, but dropped the subject with an elbow in the back from Harry. He rolled his eyes and put on a sarcastic smile. "Hi, Hermione, how are you? And Ginny," he glared, "why have you invaded my room?"
"Well," Ginny shot back, "there are no other rooms. Everyone else is bunked together, nobody's touched Percy's room, so Mum told us to sleep in here. Deal."
Ron heaved a largely ceremonial sigh and said, "Fine, you can stay in my room. But no making it girly or anything. Alright?"
"Oh, Harry, how many O.W.L.s did you get?" Hermione looked up at him.
"Erm... six," Harry said, remembering the large Ministry owl that had swooped in to the kitchen during Dudley's tearful goodbye.
"Excellent. I got seven," Ron sighed. "And I'm prefect again." He made a face. "Hermione's got ten, of course." Hermione glared at him. Harry felt strange that he didn't care about Ron being prefect, or that he'd gotten more O.W.L.s.
Ron rolled his eyes, then opened his closet door. A shirt that had come off its hanger and several mothballs fell out, but Ron kicked them out of the way, grabbing a broom from inside the closet and closed the door. Harry took his from his baggage and they left toward the garden. They stopped at the first floor. There was complete silence through the house, which was highly unusual. Ron and Harry crept into the front room. Percy Weasley was standing in the doorway with a suitcase that matched the expensive black of his robes, looking straight into the face of his glaring father.
"Father," he said, "I have reviewed the information of the case of Albus Dumbledore, and have concluded that your loyalties, whilst defying the Ministry, did not prove treacherous. I therefore have accepted my mother's generous apology and offer to return home for holiday."
Mr. Weasley's head snapped toward Mrs. Weasley, who was peeking uncharacteristically timidly from around the door to the kitchen. "If she'll have you, since this is her house as well, then I suppose that you may stay. But you are no son of mine." He turned on his heel and stomped past Ron and Harry. They moved quickly into the kitchen as Mrs. Weasley walked hesitantly toward Percy.
Ron stared at Harry through wide eyes. "Percy's come home!" he whispered, and Harry nodded, listening to the sound of Percy moving his luggage upstairs. Suddenly, a booming knock came at the door. Harry looked past the kitchen and saw Mrs. Weasley open it and look out on Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"May I talk to you outside?" he said, and she nodded, stepping out and shutting the door.
"The Order, as usual," Ron said from behind him. "They've been doing that all summer. Tonks usually stays a few days, as does Lupin, and Bill and Charlie most of the summer, but that's a given. Most of them only stay for a minute or two. Anyway, Fred and George are never here long enough to listen in with Extendable Ears, because of the joke shop. So we haven't been able to get any news at all, except the attacks that are starting to happen. But everybody knows about that." Harry nodded. He'd read them in the Daily Prophet. He sighed. Everything was different now...
Harry yawned and rolled over onto the grass, leaving his books resting by themselves. He gazed just above the line of the sun as it set over the green hill. Ron shifted his weight against the old oak tree. "Harry," he groaned, "do you get this DADA homework? What's this about these elements?"
Hermione sighed. "Ronald, if you spent half as much time reading as you did throwing a ball on a broom, you'd probably get it." He glared at her, and she returned the look. "All right, here's the basic idea: The four elemental powers are earth, wind, water, and fire. The powers are controlled by the nature of a human being, but only someone pure of heart can receive the gift of life from them. At one point, they were free to roam the world and lived in harmony with humans. However, as the population of the earth grew, the elements fed off different human characteristics and became very unbalanced. Around 600 BC, a powerful wizard by the name of Maximus Brankovich III harnessed the power into the four elemental charms. Now the elements run by neutral emotion, because they have no owner or 'feeder'. They cannot help as they once did, but instead follow a steady pattern that helps keep the world working the way it does. Get it?"
Ron stared blankly at her for a little while. "Wait," he said, "So anyone can get these powers? Why isn't the world blown to bits already?"
"No," Hermione answered, exasperated, "only a really powerful wizard of pure heart can bestow them upon people. And the people who receive them also have to be pure. Evil can't directly touch them, but the powers can use evil energy for their own gain."
"Hmm..." Harry put his arm over his eyes and smelled the coming autumn. He loved life at the Weasleys'. Even doing homework was fun. In the distance, the sound of pots clashing and tables being moved flitted in the sunset between the fireflies. His stomach told him it as almost time for supper, but he ignored it, to hold onto the moment with his friends under the oak tree. His past year had reminded him of just how quickly he could lose the opportunity to live such moments. He kept his eyes open as much as possible to avoid the memory of his parents, Cedric, Sirius... He rolled onto his stomach again and pushed himself into a sitting position with his hands. Oliver was walking up the hill toward them. He reached the top and crouched beside Ron.
"Who's ready for a lesson before supper?" He said enthusiastically. Ron groaned and shut his book. "I'm only joking. It's too late. Food's on the table!"
Everyone gathered their books and trudged back toward the house in the approaching twilight. Harry looked beyond his friends and saw the two outdoor tables set with candles and plates of food. Mrs. Weasley was hurrying around, bringing trays of even more food outside and yelling for Percy to come down. A deep, almost black flame flickered desolately in Percy's upstairs window. Presently, it was blown out, and Percy emerged from the rickety house.
Oliver had just opened the small garden gate when Bill and Charlie came barreling out the front door and raced to two seats at the table. There they began speaking excitedly about Quidditch. Oliver joined them. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny sat at the far end of the table. Ron put his head on the table, thankful the plates weren't in their places yet. Harry watched as Hermione glanced at Ron, and for a second her gaze softened. Percy was on Ron's right, as far as possible from Mr. Weasley. He often avoided Harry or looked suspiciously at him. He tapped his fingers against the table skittishly, but did not show any other signs of life. Fred and George were talking animatedly to each other, making overly large and abundant hand movements and trying to get across to their parents the benefit in investing money into their joke shop.
The plates were circling the table now, and Ron picked his head up to eat. He reached around Harry and pushed Percy's shoulder, grumbling, "When are you going to tell us why you're riding the Hogwarts train this year?"
Percy glared through his hollowed eyes at Ron. "I'll tell you when I'm ready. Besides," he added with a bit of his old pompous air, "what business is it of yours why I go to Hogwarts?"
"Aha!" Ron exclaimed. "So you are going to the school, then! What for?"
"We'll see," said Percy, with the annoying know-it-all sound in his voice. Ron sighed and started eating.