"Impedimenta!" cried Ron, and his attacker was thrown to the hard floor. He wiped the sweat from his brow, breathing heavily, as he watched the man pull himself to his feet.

"Stupefy!"

"Protego!" Ron shouted quickly, his shield blocking the stunning spell. "Are you done yet?" he yelled, dodging yet another stunning spell.

"You--wish!" the man shouted back. "Petrificus totalus!" This time he didn't miss, and Ron's arms and legs snapped together and he fell, stiff as a board. "I think we're finished, Mr. Weasley." The man, who had long and scraggly grey hair and shabby robes, pulled Ron to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Perfect, Professor Lupin," Ron replied with difficulty, using the Professor's robes to steady himself.

Putting his wand away, Lupin sighed, "How many times must I tell you--call me Remus. After all, we're colleagues now."

"Not quite," said Ron, sounding defeated. "I've still got years of training to do."

Lupin put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You'll do fine, Ron." He held open the door and they both stepped through. As they walked down the dark corridor of the Ministry of Magic, Lupin said softly, "You know, I was very involved in getting you into this program." Ron glanced up at him. "I knew your N.E.W.T. scores would not be good enough for the Ministry, but you have been fighting Dark Wizards since your first year, right alongside Harry. I told them you could prove yourself and that quick thinking, more than cleverness, is what allows one to survive."

"Thank you, Professor," Ron said quietly. "I wanted to do this for Harry--it's what he wanted to do, you know."

Lupin nodded, smiling, but did not look at Ron. "He would be proud of you."

"Thanks." They stepped into the lift that would take them up several floors to the Atrium. "I'll see you on Monday, Profes--erm--Remus."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, you may continue to call me 'Professor,'" said Lupin, his lips twitching slightly.

Ron shook his head. "I'm just not used to it is all. Well, 'bye, then." He turned down another corridor where there was a public fireplace. Quickly, he tossed a handful of glittering Floo Powder into the fire and said carefully, "The Burrow!" Then he stepped inside. When he emerged, he was inside his own house.

His mother was in the kitchen busily preparing supper. Without looking up, she asked warmly, "Have a good day, Ron, dear? They're keeping you busy, I hope."

"Very," Ron replied, rubbing below his bruised and now puffy eye.

Mrs. Weasley looked up at him. She gasped, "Ronald Weasley! What's happened to your face?" She rushed over to him, cradling his face in her hands. "Is this what they teach you in that Ministry--how to hurt yourself?!"

"It's all right, Mum," Ron protested as she fussed over his left eye. "It's just a scratch."

Ginny stepped into the room and Ron gave her a pleading look. She rolled her eyes and said loudly, "Mum, stop fussing over him."

Mrs. Weasley stepped away from Ron, still rubbing his cheek.

"Ouch!" Ron said, jumping back.

"See?" said Mrs. Weasley. "Ron has always been more prone to bumps and bruises than the rest of you." She held his shoulders with her hands. "I want you to promise me you won't come home on Monday with another black eye."

Ron knew the more he protested, the more she would pester him. "Mum, when I get better, I'll have less injuries. I'm still not as good as half the other trainees--except Neville Longbottom, I'm still better than him."

"Neville Longbottom's in training with you?" Ginny questioned, perking up.

"Yeah." Ron smiled. "I always thought he'd go into Herbology or something, since that's the only thing he's good at."

Ron chuckled a bit but Ginny frowned at him. "Neville picked his grades up quite a bit in his last three years. And if you'll recall, he received an E on his Potions N.E.W.T." she smirked. "You know it's the professors that make him nervous, especially Snape."

"Well that's not saying much," Ron said. "Snape makes everyone nervous." With a quick glance at his mother, he muttered, "I don't miss him, that's for sure."

"Who would?" Ginny murmured back, laughing.

"That's enough about poor Professor Snape," Mrs. Weasley intervened harshly.

"Poor Professor Snape?" Ron said incredulously. "There's nothing poor about him." His mother frowned deeply. "I'm sorry, but he's--"

"Severus Snape has had a very difficult life," she said severely.

"I don't know, torturing students sounds like fun to me."

From that moment and all through their supper, Mrs. Weasley was very cold and unwilling to speak. When Ron's father came home from work, she piled food roughly onto his plate without a word. Ron didn't particularly care how his mother acted toward him; if she was angry, he wasn't going to protest. Fred found the unusual silence rather amusing and found it difficult to eat and laugh at the same time. George wasn't home, a fact that was increasingly becoming annoying to Mrs. Weasley. She looked at the clock that displayed all of the Weasleys. They were all at home, excepting Bill (who was in Egypt working for Gringotts), Charlie (who was in Romania), and George. George's face still pointed to "Work." He had never been late for supper before.

"Why didn't you go into the shop today, Fred?" she demanded.

"Erm...I wasn't feeling well." He was finally able to control his laughter. "George said he could handle it--you know business is going a little slow."

"Doesn't the shop close at five?" she questioned.

"Well," Fred began, thinking quickly, "we usually do...close at five, but there's a special today--all the Skiving Snackboxes you can fit in your pockets for just a galleon."

Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes. "Fred, you know I can tell when you're lying to me."

Before he could reply, the door swung open and George stepped inside. Ron had to stifle his laughter and Ginny, mouth slightly open, let her spoon fall with a clatter. Everyone turned to look at George, except Mrs. Weasley, whose face flushed.

"Sorry I'm late, Mum," George apologized. "A couple delivery owls got a bit flustered and knocked down half the stock. Erm...did I do something?"

"Fred was just telling Mum why you were late," Ginny piped up. "About the special..."

George looked confused for a moment, then receiving a meaningful look from his twin, he said, "Oh, right, the special."

Instead of saying anything at all, Mrs. Weasley, who was now very red in the face, stood up and stormed noisily into her bedroom. The other Weasleys flinched when her door was slammed shut.

"What just happened?" George asked.

Mr. Weasley, who up until this point was just as befuddled as George, frowned and stood up so he could look at both of the twins. Without taking his eyes off of Fred and George, he said, "Ron, Ginny, I need a few minutes with your brothers." When the sounds of retreating footsteps had vanished, he said slowly, "I'm disappointed in you boys. Keeping things from your mother and me. Lying? Fred, you know she doesn't approve of that." "I'm not keeping anything from her," George said. "I was late because of the owls...I might have run into an old friend, but the mess kept me."

Fred stared at his plate until his father addressed him directly. "And what's all this about you feeling ill?"

"That was my fault," George spoke up. "I told Fred not to come in."

"Couldn't you have told your mother that, Fred?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Erm...well, I thought," Fred sputtered. "I thought George was doing something else, something Mum might not approve of."

Flushing, George said quickly, "But I wasn't, so let's all just go to bed, then." He made for the stairs.

"Why would Fred think that, George?" his father questioned.

George shut his eyes and replied in a strong voice, "Because he thinks I'm in love with Hermione Granger."

"Well, are you?" Mr. Weasley didn't sound disappointed anymore. On the contrary, he sounded genuinely curious.

"No, I'm not!" George cried, throwing his hands up. "Since when are you all so interested in my love life, anyway?"

Fred slipped past his twin and up the stairs. "It would be nice to see one of my sons settle down," Mr. Weasley replied quietly.

"I'm only twenty-three," George said. He wasn't angry, just frustrated. "Besides, can you really see me settling down with anyone?"

"Well, Fred seems to be managing it quite well," his father said, helping himself to some mashed potatoes.

"That's because Angelina wears the pants in that relationship," George retorted. "They haven't married, anyway."

Mr. Weasley frowned. "He hasn't asked her yet?"

George was puzzled. "Pardon?"

Taking a drink of water, Mr. Weasley explained, "Two weeks ago he told me he was going to talk to her father, you know, to get permission and his blessing. He did say that he'd gotten it, but now you're telling me you haven't heard a thing about it?"

"Yeah." George nodded. "I saw Angelina today as well. If something had happened, she would have said so." He glanced up the staircase. "I'll go talk to him."

"As much as I'd like to know what's going on, perhaps you shouldn't mention it."

George nodded in agreement and went up to the room he and Fred shared. When he reached the door, Ginny came striding out. She smiled at him before entering her own room. Fred was sitting at his desk, scribbling madly onto a piece of parchment. He didn't look up, so George knocked on the doorframe.

Fred turned around. "Oh, hello." He began writing again. "I suppose Dad's told you then." He dipped his quill into the inkbottle and continued writing. "I knew he would--that's why I came up here."

"Why didn't you tell me, Fred?" George questioned, sitting down on his bed. "We're twins!"

"I didn't want to tell anyone until I was absolutely positive," Fred responded. "In case she declined my offer."

"Which she wouldn't."

"How would you know?" Fred turned to look at him. "She might not be ready for that. I don't even know if I'm ready for it."

George didn't know what to say. He knew he couldn't make his brother feel any better. "You just have to go for it and ask her."

Fred snorted and fingered the back of the wooden chair.

"I'm sorry I got angry with you this morning," George said. "You can talk to whoever you want."

"Thanks. And you can date whoever you want." He smiled and took something out of his pocket. "Do you want to see it?"

George watched Fred open the box to reveal a plain golden band with one small gem at the center. "Well, at least you didn't get too fancy."

Fred looked rather proud of himself. "I've bewitched it. It looks plain now, but when Angelina puts it on, it'll shimmer." He smiled and put it away. "She won't be expecting much...Angie doesn't really care about those kinds of things."

"No," George said, "she doesn't." Without another word, he changed and crawled into bed. Fred sat at the writing desk for at least another hour before he shut off the light and went to bed himself.