Tapestries

It was the first sunshine in weeks. Flooding the courtyard, it seemed alive as children laughed and chased an illicit Fanged Frisbee through its beams, or slouched in corners, faces turned away, trying to be too old for Fanged Frisbees. It glinted off the water flowing from a fountain in the corner where frogs splashed and birds sunned themselves. It gave the puffy white clouds silver edges as they scuttled across the sky.

A sudden loud explosion caught everyone's attention. In the middle of the courtyard Tommy Trimpsell's brand new tailfeathers waved blue and gold in the gentle breeze. Sheepishly he looked around, holding a wand with a white tip and a small flag waving from it that read:

Tally Ho!

Weasleys Wizard Wheezes

He sighed, gave it an experimental wave, and pronounced "Finite Incantatum!"

His lovely tail feathers grow larger and more fulsome. A muffled snort came from somewhere behind him.

Grimacing, he began to panic. He waved the wand harder. "Reparo Bottomus!"

The feathers went Poof! and suddenly Tommy's plumage became far more parrot-like, in lovely shades of red and white. His mates, Ravenclaws all, pointed and sniggered loudly.

Anna, a pretty Hufflepuff girl, sat reading in the sunshine on the steps that lead into the castle. She looked up at the commotion, and couldn't stop a snicker before hiding her face in her book again. Tommy caught sight of that and, frustrated, turned to scowl at his mates. "That's enough! Shut it, you lot, or I'll make sure Snape finds out it was you who was selling Potions essays to the Gryffindors last term," he said just loud enough for them to hear.

"Then you shouldn't have been the one taking orders," Reginald Smythewick replied, unimpressed. "Nor should you have skimmed that extra five percent. Nice little profit, that. Did you spend it all at the Weasleys' place?"

"Reducto!" Tommy cried, pointing the trick wand in the vicinity of his backside. There was a loud BANG! and the feathers turned blue and green, with a distinctive eye in the center. Then with a lewd whistle, they elongated to wave gently above his head.

"Oh, bother," he muttered. He heard a few more chortles come from the vicinity of the wall.

"Ooooh, how pretty," giggled Anna, emerging again behind from her book.

Tommy cheered up a mite at the sight of that smile and waved his peacocked bottom in Anna's direction, never minding that he cut a ridiculous figure. "They told me the same wand would fix up the trick!" he shouted across to her, swaggering a bit. "Looks like I got a bum wand!" She giggled again, then blushed and looked down. Hoping to impress her, he thought to try something else. "Expungeo!"

Poof! Poof! Poof! The feathers went through an assortment of green and purple and silver and red, changing from parrot to peacock and then to parakeet. His Ravenclaw mates around him burst into laughter, along with everyone else in the courtyard. The pretty Anna hid her beet red face in the pages of her book, helpless in the face of his embarrassment. Disgusted, Tommy tossed the trick wand away from himself and into the fountain.

BOOM! It blew up on contact, sending a geyser into the air and a wave over the lip. Frogs landed ten feet away, blinking in surprise, while birds squawked and flapped to the top of the wall.

"That's torn it!" His now-soggy mates, led by Reginald, gathered themselves off the ground and rounded on him, stripped him of his robes and his real wand, then strung him from the wall by those new tailfeathers. He hung there a few minutes, kicking and sputtering threats, shaking his fist at his fairweather mates. That is, until his feathers disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared and he fell on his face in the mud. Spitting mud and clawing it out of his eyes, he got to his feet then tackled Reginald.

"Might someday get rid of that old tapestry with the family tree on it, if I ever move in," Harry mentioned to his friends offhandedly. "Sirius always hated it." Absently he watched Tommy Trimpsell's feathers disappear and the boy fall on his face in the mud.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry were taking advantage of the short space between the last class of the day and dinner, before their evening was absorbed by homework. They were discussing Harry's inheritance from his godfather Sirius Black, as they had many times already. Gloomy and in disrepair, the house was almost more responsibility than Harry could handle, yet it might provide basic shelter once he was kicked out of the Dursley's for good.

But why go there? his heart cried. Stay with Ron and his parents. They won't mind. Much. At least, not at first.

Harry told his heart to shut it, they didn't need another mouth to feed. Besides, it was a whole year away. He'd think of something by then.

"Ronald, please do something," sighed Hermione as they watched Tommy tackle another boy and both went face-down into the mud.

"What? Me? Why?" said Ron. "They're Ravenclaws." With a sage eye he observed Reginald's wild punch that managed to land somewhere on Tommy's ear, and Tommy's answering bellow.

"Because you're a prefect," Hermione told him. "We're supposed to maintain order and discipline."

"Then you go break it up." Ron folded his arms and watched as more Ravenclaws jumped into the mix, fists and wands flying. Mud splattered up from spells going wide, causing pretty Anna to shriek and scramble away.

Hermione sighed. "It's your turn. Besides, they're boys."

Ron was saved from a reply as a passing Professor Sinestra caught sight of the fray from the doorway. She took out her wand. "Here now! What is the meaning of this! Expelliarmus!" she cried, and Ravenclaws scattered in all directions. Wands went soaring through the air to her waiting hand.

"You lot, Professor Flitwick's office! Now!" Muddy Ravenclaws marched through the door, dripping onto the stone flagging, eagerly explaining to Professor Sinestra all the circumstances of the altercation and pointing fingers in every direction. Sinestra rolled her eyes as they passed and followed them in, giving full voice to her lecture.

"There, you see? Let the Ravenclaws handle it." Ron gave Hermione a smug smirk. She glared back at him, her hand on her hip.

Harry gave a short laugh and shook his head, his mind already on other things. "I wonder if it has a Permanent Sticking Charm on it like the portrait of Mrs. Black?" he mused. "Maybe I could set fire to it…you know, a contained Incendio might work…"

"Oh really, Harry, set fire to your own house?" said Hermione, exasperated. "Just to take down a piece of cloth?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. I could keep the wall from being damaged too much if I learn some fire repellant charms…"

"Well, it's your house now, I suppose you can do as you like. But Harry, that's the Black family tree!" pleaded Hermione. "It's one-of-a-kind, a work of art!"

"It's not that unusual. Lots of the old families have family tree tapestries, Hermione," Ron said with a shrug.

"They do?" Harry asked quickly.

"Sure. My grandmum Weasley has ours." Ron kicked at a small stone, sent it sailing into the geyser which had yet to subside.

"Oh! Is it as grand as the Black's?" Hermione asked eagerly. "But without the wand burns, I hope?"

Ron snuck a glance at her. "I suppose. I don't see it much, it's in the parlor. We never go in there when we visit."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged again. "Dunno. Dad doesn't like that room much. And he doesn't like the tapestry at all. Says it starts too many arguments."

Hermione tossed her head. "What on earth is there to argue about over an old family tree? It's not like someone's going to use a Time Turner to go back and change something."

"Plenty, I guess." Ron looked at her sheepishly. "He said when he was going around with Mum, when they were at Hogwarts, there were lots of arguments in the parlor next to the tapestry. He doesn't like to talk about it." He looked down at the ground.

Harry screwed up his face, trying to think of what could make Mr. Weasley uncomfortable. He didn't think he'd ever seen that.

"But that seems silly," Hermione persisted. "How does an old tapestry cause an argument?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably again. "They didn't want him to marry Mum," he said. "Said they were too close."

"Too close?" Hermione scrunched up her face in thought. "I suppose that's understandable, they were only seventeen you know…but that's not too young to choose someone, isn't it? If the right one comes along?" She didn't look at either of the boys.

Ron gave her a searching look. "They're third cousins."

Hermione stared up at him, her mouth open in surprise. "Oh."

Harry stared at Ron, then Hermione. "So? Sirius said all the old pureblood families are related. But I don't understand…"

"Surely it worked out for the best though?" Hermione interrupted, a little too brightly. "Your parents are alright. And all of you are just fine."

Harry looked at Hermione in surprise. "Course they're fine. What else would they be?"

"Well," Hermione said hesitantly, "third cousins are a little close…" She glanced at Harry, who had a look of sudden enlightenment on his face.

"Purebloods tend to have problems anyway," Ron said quietly. "I guess Grandmum Weasley didn't want to tempt fate. Like Sirius' parents did."

"She was wrong, then, wasn't she?" Harry replied reasonably. "I mean, there's the seven of you, and like Hermione said, you're just fine."

"Except there were ten of us," Ron said. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, then quickly looked away. Ron moved away a little and kicked at another stone. His toe dug into the dirt, and the stone only moved an inch. "Last one nearly killed Mum, the one after Ginny. She was laid up for weeks. Dad got pretty good at Blood Replenishing potions, and you know they're tricky."

"Oh," Harry said.

Hermione's face fell. "Sorry Ron. We didn't know."

"Ginny won't remember. I barely do, but I know Mum was asleep most of the time. They let us in to see her once a day, one at a time. She grabbed my hand and wouldn't let go, but Dad made her finally and she cried. She cried all the time then, and Dad spent all his time with her when he wasn't at work."

"But who took care of you?" asked Hermione.

"Grandmum Weasley was with us sometimes. But Dad and Grandmum argued a lot, so sometimes it was just us." Ron grinned suddenly. "Bill had to learn to cook. All he could manage was boiled eggs and jelly sandwiches, so we ate that a lot. He's still a lousy cook."

Harry snorted. "Just as long as he doesn't cook the food for his own wedding." Ron gave him a lopsided grin.

Hermione smile tentatively. "I suppose that could explain Phlegm. At least a little."

Grin fading, Ron looked down at the ground, at the water, at the wall. Anywhere but at Hermione. "I suppose."

"So where's your mum's family's tapestry?" Harry asked.

"She's got it rolled up and put in a cupboard somewhere," Ron said. "She doesn't like it either. But I heard her mention over the summer that she'd have to find it to check if the charms were still working. Maybe she'll finally get rid of it if they aren't."

"But Ron, it sounds like the family trees serve a useful purpose. Maybe they shouldn't be rolled up and stuck in a cupboard somewhere, especially if Charlie or Percy is thinking…" Hermione abruptly shut her mouth.

"Yeah, or Fred and George. Merlin help us if they are," Harry added darkly. Hermione dug an elbow into his ribs and he grunted in surprise.

"Well, Fred and George aren't going to try it any time soon," Ron said. "They've got feathers for brains these days. And Charlie's wrapped up in his dragons. Percy, though…"

"But, Ron," said Hermione in a very small voice, "if Percy does think about…about…won't he need those tapestries?"

Ron grunted and kicked at another rock. "Suppose." He looked up at the sky again. "Start more arguments, why doesn't he? Pompous twit."

"But why does it have to start more?" asked Harry. "He can go find someone who isn't a third cousin. And who says he has to look at the double-cursed things at all?"

"His fiancee's parents, most likely," Ron replied shortly.

"So let 'em," said Harry stoutly. "Stupid old piece of cloth, can't tell anybody anything…"

"And since when does anybody's parents get a say in the matter?" added Hermione. "This isn't the Middle Ages, you know."

Ron gave the two a curious, disbelieving look. Maybe he should find a pureblood witch, when it was his time. Someone who understood the risks and could love him anyway.

"There's ten of us on those tapestries," he said quietly. And before either could ask him any more questions, or remind him that his mother nearly died, or that he wasn't supposed to be born at all, he turned and went inside.