Chapter Four - The Aftermath

A little later, Harry had filled Ron and Hermione in on the events of the night before. Hermione listened wide-eyed to Harry's account of Neville's early childhood. "Oh, poor Neville – no wonder he was always so anxious about everything! Think of the pressure he must have been under, always trying to live up to his family and thinking he had no magic of his own …"

"Tell me about it. You know, it sounds stupid but it almost makes me feel lucky …"

"Lucky! With the Dursleys?" Hermione stared. "How could anything be worse than them? They're completely horrible – not to mention unbalanced." She shuddered, perhaps remembering the ancient cheese and plastic white bread that had been the staple diet for the duration of their stay at Privet Drive. According to Aunt Petunia, Harry's 'raggle-taggle deviant companions' ought to consider themselves lucky to have been fed at all.

"In a way – yeah. The Dursleys never expected much from me – well, anything, really. I hated them, kept out of the way – or sometimes my magic fought back. Simple. Then I escaped, found out who I really was – and it was nothing to do with them. Simple."

"Simply awful, I think you mean." Hermione shuddered again.

"Thing is though …" Harry struggled for words. "It was so obvious … Neville's relatives… however much they put him down, tell him he's useless … he still …"

"Loves them?"

"Well, yeah."

"Oh Harry, of course he does!" huffed Hermione. Harry shrugged. It didn't seem that obvious to him – but he supposed Hermione knew best.

For the first time, Ron looked up from his study of the maps. "Count yourself lucky, mate. Trust me, there are worse things than being locked in a broom cupboard and starved. Like having Fred and George around when you're just learning to walk and they're 'accidentally' making the rug levitate every time you stand up."

Hermione said a little crossly, "I don't know why you're both so surprised anyway. We've known Neville for years after all. And we knew about his parents. We should have …"

"Honestly, Hermione – get a grip. We're not the ones acting like it's some massive deal – besides, you think Neville would've thanked us for quizzing him about his home life?" Ron paused, looking seriously at Hermione. "School's enough of a war zone, even if you aren't having to fight You – I mean – V-Voldemort every other year, like Boy Wonder here."

"Oi!" Harry gave Ron a shove.

"If you ask me, Neville knew what he was doing, keeping all that stuff to himself. Kept a low profile and got on with it – he didn't need our pity."

Hermione continued to argue. "Well, I don't agree. Neville listened to me plenty of times during those first months when everyone hated me and I felt like I'd never fit in ... and he never complained about anything … and I – I never asked him. I feel horrible."

Harry remembered his conversation with Luna at the end of fifth year. "Don't worry about it, Hermione – Ron's right."

"'Course I am."

Hermione still looked a little doubtful. Harry went on. "And you were nicer than anyone else –"

"When you weren't putting him in a full Body-Bind, that is ..."

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione laughed, reluctantly.

"Neville's doing all right now, isn't he? Got a new wand and everything. And a girlfriend." Harry smirked a little.

At this piece of gossip, Hermione's eyes went as round as saucers. "No! Who? Tell us – now!"

"Blimey, Hermione," said Harry. "You're starting to sound like Parvati and – um – well, never mind …" Ron broke into a tuneless whistle, becoming very interested in the Marauder's Map again.

"Oh, very funny," Hermione said waspishly. "You're not the only one missing Ginny you know." That shut Harry up. "Go on – who is it – is it Luna?" Hermione looked hopeful.

Harry devoutly wished he'd never introduced the subject. "Don't think so. Didn't look that way to me. Didn't like to pry." Hermione twitched impatiently. "I'm not even a hundred percent sure to be honest – it's just something I heard him say to Tonks. But he was hiding me at the time – it might not have meant anything at all. Then I had to leave anyway."

"Oh – BOYS. You're so useless." Harry could practically see Hermione's brain ticking over as she ran over the possibilities. "What about Hannah Abbott? They always seemed to get on well in Herbology –" Hermione broke off abruptly. The speculative note in her voice died away, as she said, more soberly: "Then again, she's not been around since …"

"Yes, well, let's change the subject." Ron was looking bored. "Can we get on with this map please – when you two have quite finished your girly chat?"

A little while later, Harry ducked out, on the pretext of going to look in the shed for a pocket calculator that Ron said he could remember seeing around The Burrow a few years earlier. Although reluctant to abandon her tried and tested methods – "Arithmancy is my best subject, Ron …" – Hermione had eventually been persuaded to try out Ron's suggestion. "Oh go on, Hermione! It'll really speed things up with the longer place names ..."

"Ron, if you're bored, why don't you just say so …"

"I'm not bored. This could really work – you're just too stubborn to admit I've had a good idea …" Harry left them to it.

As Harry had hoped, he found Mr Weasley sitting at his workbench. He jumped when Harry came in. "Ouch! Oh, it's you Harry. See this? 'Soldiering iron' it's called – these little blobs … for mending things I believe… it's not working all that well mind you. Perhaps I'm doing it wrong … quite fascinating …"

"Er – it's 'soldering' not 'soldiering' actually Mr Weasley."

"Really - soldering you say? How odd. A whole other language isn't it …"

"And it won't work on that cup. It's only for metal."

"Ah – that explains it. I believe I have a broken letter-opener here somewhere. I'll give it a try …" Mr Weasley dropped the teacup that was missing its handle into a bin and started shuffling through various heaps of junk on the bench.

"So – what brings you down here Harry – maths lesson finished for the day? A bit boring for you, I would have thought. I must confess – I never imagined the day I would see Ron spending the last day of his holiday with his head in a book. Arithmancy must really fire his enthusiasm." To Harry's surprise, Mr Weasley gave a snort of laughter and turned round, looking over at Harry hovering politely by the door. They exchanged companionable, knowing glances. "I expect you'd rather be outdoors, wouldn't you?"

"It's OK. Everyone else is busy anyway. And without a Chaser …" Harry didn't finish the sentence. Mr Weasley looked sympathetic but only said:

"Well, you're welcome to hide out here as long as you wish. You'll be in the thick of things soon enough, I daresay, with everything you've got planned." Mr Weasley looked wistfully around his shed. "I must say, it's been wonderful having a day or two away from the office." Harry closed the door and moved further into the dim and cluttered space, stepping carefully around a precarious tower of old tires as he made his way over to the bench. "Thanks, Mr Weasley …actually …there is something …"

Mr Weasley was able to put his hand on the calculator immediately. "It's a bit temperamental, I'm afraid. It used to work, I'm sure of it – a zero would appear when you opened the little case – but since I brought it in from the house …" Harry examined it.

"It might need a new battery. Look, there's some here." He put his hand into a small basket filled with odds and ends.

"Is that what those little silver coins are? Bless my soul."

"Oh wait a minute, no – see? It runs on solar power. I just need to take it out into the light and it'll work again."

Harry tucked the calculator into the back pocket of his jeans, next to his wand, which reminded him of the real reason he'd wanted to talk to Ron's dad. "Mr Weasley? You're a politician aren't you – like Rufus Scrimgeour and Fudge and all that lot?"

"No, no Harry. Minister for Magic's the political role. I'm just a humble civil servant – as are Alastor, Kingsley and the others … different kettle of fish altogether."

"I see," said Harry, though he didn't really. He took the plunge and told Mr Weasley what had happened during the interview, including everything he'd said about Crouch Junior impersonating Professor Moody and demonstrating the Unforgivable Curses in lessons. "… and so, I think maybe I've overstepped the mark and the Ministry are going to go mad. But I don't really care about that. People should know about Crouch and the real Death Eaters. No, it's Moody. I had to say how they captured him … and … and Neville had just made this great big song and dance about how I can resist the Imperius. Mad-Eye's going to think I was showing off – making him out to be weak – and I so wasn't."

Mr Weasley replaced the soldering iron carefully in its holder. "Sit down, Harry." As Mr Weasley did not appear to notice that the only seating was his own high wooden stool, Harry cleared a space on the workbench and hoisted himself up.

"Harry – listen to me." Mr Weasley's voice was grave. "Alastor – as well as any of us – knows you are not capable of 'showing off' in any way, shape or form." In the half-light, Harry blushed but started to feel marginally better. Mr Weasley continued. "Harry … you cannot help what you are. The abilities you have are of a different quality to most normal wizards, even the very powerful. Dumbledore knew this. You know it. It may not be something you asked for but you accepted your part in all this some time ago I think?"

"But I still care what my friends think – "

"And you are right to do so. Alastor is not a petty man, or a resentful one. He may well have preferred not to have what he sees as his greatest failure broadcast over the airwaves – but he will not blame you."

Harry thought for a minute. He believed Mr Weasley – it sounded like something Dumbledore would have said. And yet … "I'd still like to make things right," he said, stubbornly.

"Very commendable. Why don't you write to him? It would be sensible to warn the Order about the programme in any case."

Harry considered. Yes – that would work. An owl would reach Moody the same day. And then … at the wedding tomorrow…he could explain in person …"

"Thanks, Mr Weasley, that's a brilliant idea. I'll go now."

As Harry jumped down from the bench, something else occurred to him. "Mr Weasley?

"Yes Harry?"

"There won't be – you know – repercussions for you, or any of my friends will there – because of what I said? If so, I'll wish I hadn't gone at all."

"Who can say Harry? These are difficult times. Mortal peril is … mortal peril." Mr Weasley smiled. "As for Rufus and the rest of the Ministry – I think they are the least of our worries don't you?" Harry understood. He'd made his decision the night before – no point agonising over it now. He'd just have to hope it had been the right one.

Mr Weasley got down from his stool. "At this particular moment," he said, nodding significantly in the direction of the door, "I think we may be in grave danger of being late for elevenses."