A/N: Hi, my name is Jade and I am happy that you have chosen my story to read. I would like to say that I have only a general idea where this is going to so if any of you have ideas feel free to share them with me.
This is a Time Travel Story. This story is AU. It has SLASH. It has underage sex later on. A lot of characters will be OOC.
If you cannot handle this then don't read this.
I still don't have a beta so if anyone wants to jump in for further chapters…
This will probably have infrequent posts so maybe you should follow it? School started…
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you can recognize!
Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites!
I hope you like this story and leave a review for me!
The Entire Family Alive
By twelve o'clock the next day, Harry's school trunk was packed with his school things and all his most prized possessions - the Invisibility Cloak, the broomstick he had gotten from Sirius, the enchanted map of Hogwarts he had been given by Fred and George Weasley last year. He had emptied his hiding place under the loose floorboard of all food, double-checked every nook and cranny of his bedroom for forgotten spell books or quills, and taken down the chart on the wall counting down the days to September the first, on which he liked to cross off the days remaining until his return to Hogwarts. He had to admit that when he felt the Cloak inside his arms again that he felt peace wash over him and for a moment it seemed like Vanmoriel was there, smiling a welcoming smile.
The atmosphere inside number four, Privet Drive was extremely tense. The imminent arrival at their house of an assortment of wizards was making the Dursleys uptight and irritable. Uncle Vernon had looked downright alarmed when Harry informed him that the Weasleys would be arriving at five o'clock the very next day.
"I hope you told them to dress properly, these people," he snarled at once. "I've seen the sort of stuff your lot wear. They'd better have the decency to put on normal clothes, that's all. "
Harry felt amused at that. He had rarely seen Mr. or Mrs Weasley wearing anything that the Dursleys would call "normal." Their children might don Muggle clothing during the holidays, and even that was rare, but Mr and Mrs Weasley usually wore long robes in varying states of shabbiness. Harry wasn't bothered about what the neighbours would think, but he was anxious about how rude the Dursleys might be to the Weasleys if they turned up looking like their worst idea of wizards, after all, he could not wait to see them all alive and unharmed.
Uncle Vernon had put on his best suit. To some people, this might have looked like a gesture of welcome, but Harry knew it was because Uncle Vernon wanted to look impressive and intimidating. Dudley, on the other hand, looked somehow diminished. This was not because the diet was at last taking effect, but due to fright. Dudley had emerged from his last encounter with a fully grown wizard with a curly pig's tail poking out of the seat of his trousers, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had had to pay for its removal at a private hospital in London. It wasn't altogether surprising; therefore, that Dudley kept running his hand nervously over his backside, and walking sideways from room to room, so as not to present the same target to the enemy.
Lunch was an almost silent meal. Dudley didn't even protest at the food (cottage cheese and grated celery). Aunt Petunia wasn't, eating anything at all. Her arms were folded, her lips were pursed, and she seemed to be chewing her tongue, as though biting back the furious diatribe she longed to throw at Harry.
"They'll be driving, of course?" Uncle Vernon barked across the table.
"Er," said Harry.
He really did not want to tell them what would happen.
"I think so," said Harry.
Uncle Vernon snorted into his moustache. Normally, Uncle Vernon would have asked what car Mr Weasley drove; he tended to judge other men by how big and expensive their cars were. But Harry doubted whether Uncle Vernon would have taken to Mr Weasley even if he drove a Ferrari for which they did not have the money, but still.
Harry spent most of the afternoon in his bedroom; he couldn't stand watching Aunt Petunia peer out through the net curtains every few seconds, as though there had been a warning about an escaped rhinoceros. Finally, at a quarter to five, Harry went back downstairs and into the living room.
Five o'clock came and then went. Uncle Vernon, perspiring slightly in his suit, opened the front door, peered up and down the street, and then withdrew his head quickly.
"They're late!" he snarled at Harry.
"I know," said Harry. "Maybe - err - the traffic's bad, or something."
Ten past five. . . then a quarter past five. . . Harry was starting to feel anxious himself. At half past, he heard Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia conversing in terse mutters in the living room.
"No consideration at all."
"We might've had an engagement."
"Maybe they think they'll get invited to dinner if they're late."
"Well, they most certainly won't be," said Uncle Vernon, and Harry heard him stand up and start pacing the living room. "They'll take the boy and go; there'll be no hanging around. That's if they're coming at all. Probably mistaken the day. I daresay their kind don't set many stores by punctuality. Either that or they drive some tinpot car that's broken d -AAAAAAAARRRRRGH!"
Harry jumped up. From the other side of the living room door came the sounds of the three Dursleys scrambling, panic-stricken, across the room. Next moment Dudley came flying into the hall, looking terrified. Oops, he had forgotten that they'd come late. It was only a small detail.
"What happened?" said Harry trying not to laugh. "What's the matter?"
But Dudley didn't seem able to speak. Hands still clamped over his buttocks, he waddled as fast as he could into the kitchen. Harry hurried into the living room.
Loud banging and scraping were coming from behind the Dursleys' boarded-up fireplace, which had a fake coal fire plugged in front of it. Perhaps he should have freed the fireplace?
"What is it?" gasped Aunt Petunia, who had backed into the wall and was staring, terrified, toward the fire. "What is it, Vernon?"
But they have left the doubt barely a second longer. Voices could be heard from inside the blocked fireplace.
"Ouch! Fred, no - go back, go back, there's been some kind of mistake - tell George not to - OUCH! George, no, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron -"
"Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad - maybe he'll be able to let us out -"
There was a loud hammering of fists on the boards behind the electric fire.
"Harry? Harry, can you hear us?"
The Dursleys rounded on Harry like a pair of angry wolverines.
"What is this?" growled Uncle Vernon. "What's going on?"
"They - they've tried to get here by Floo powder," said Harry, fighting a mad desire to laugh. "They can travel by fire - only you've blocked the fireplace - hang on -"
He approached the fireplace and called through the boards.
"Mr Weasley? Can you hear me?"
The hammering stopped. Somebody inside the chimney-piece said, "Shh!"
"Mr Weasley, its Harry… the fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to get through there."
"Damn!" said Mr Weasley's voice. "What on earth did they want to block up the fireplace for?"
"They've got an electric fire," Harry explained.
"Really?" said Mr Weasley's voice excitedly. "Eclectic, you say? With a plug? Gracious, I must see that. . . . Let's think. . . Ouch, Ron!"
Ron's voice now joined the others'.
"What are we doing here? Has something gone wrong?"
"Oh no, Ron," came Fred's voice, very sarcastically. He almost sounded like a Slytherin. "No, this is exactly where we wanted to end up."
"Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here," said George, whose voice sounded muffled, as though he was squashed against the wall.
"Boys, boys… "said Mr Weasley vaguely. "I'm trying to think what to do… Yes… only way…Stand back, Harry. "
Harry retreated to the sofa. Uncle Vernon, however, moved forward.
"Wait a moment!" he bellowed at the fire. "What exactly are you going to -"
BANG. A very satisfying sound in Harry's opinion; so he grinned behind his hand so that Vernon would not see it.
The electric fire shot across the room as the boarded-up fireplace burst outward, expelling Mr Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron in a cloud of rubble and lose chippings. Aunt Petunia shrieked and fell backwards over the coffee table; Uncle Vernon caught her before she hit the floor, and gaped, speechless, at the Weasleys, all of whom had bright red hair, including Fred and George, who were identical to the last freckle.
"That's better," panted Mr Weasley, brushing the dust from his long green robes and straightening his glasses. "Ah - you must be Harry's aunt and uncle!"
Tall, thin, and balding, he moved toward Uncle Vernon, his hand outstretched, but Uncle Vernon backed away several paces, dragging Aunt Petunia. Words utterly failed Uncle Vernon. His best suit was covered in white dust, which had settled in his hair and moustache and made him look as though he had just aged thirty years.
"Er - yes - sorry about that," said Mr Weasley, lowering his hand and looking over his shoulder at the blasted fireplace. "It's my entire fault. It just didn't occur to me that we wouldn't be able to get out at the other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, you see - just for an afternoon, you know, so we could get Harry. Muggle fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, strictly speaking - but I've got a useful contact at the Floo Regulation Panel and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. I'll light a fire to send the boys back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate."
Harry knew that Dursleys hadn't understood a single thing. They were still gaping at Mr Weasley, thunderstruck. Aunt Petunia staggered upright again and hid behind Uncle Vernon.
"Hello, Harry!" said Mr Weasley brightly. "Got your trunk ready?"
"It's upstairs," said Harry, grinning back.
"We'll get it," said Fred at once. Winking at Harry, he and George left the room. They knew where Harry's bedroom was, having once rescued him from it in the dead of night. Harry suspected that Fred and George were hoping for a glimpse of Dudley; they had heard a lot about him from Harry. Honestly, he wanted them to get a glimpse of him as well.
"Well," said Mr Weasley, swinging his arms slightly, while he tried to find words to break the very nasty silence. "Very - err - a very nice place you've got here."
As the usually spotless living room was now covered in dust and bits of brick, this remark didn't go down too well with the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon's face purpled once more, and Aunt Petunia started chewing her tongue again. However, they seemed too scared to actually say anything.
Mr Weasley was looking around. He loved everything to do with Muggles. Harry could see him itching to go and examine the television and the video recorder and he honestly hoped that the man would break it beyond recognition this time around.
"They run off eckeltricity, do they?" he said knowledgeably. "Ah yes, I can see the plugs. I collect plugs," he added to Uncle Vernon. "And batteries. Got a very large collection of batteries. My wife thinks I'm mad, but there you are. "
Uncle Vernon clearly thought Mr Weasley was mad too. Harry moved ever so slightly to the right, screening Aunt Petunia from view, as though he thought Mr Weasley might suddenly run at them and attack.
Dudley suddenly reappeared in the room. Harry could hear the clunk of his trunk on the stairs and knew that the sounds had scared Dudley out of the kitchen. Dudley edged along the wall, gazing at Mr Weasley with terrified eyes, and attempted to conceal himself behind his mother and father. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately if you asked Harry, Uncle Vernon's bulk, while sufficient to hide bony Aunt Petunia, was nowhere near enough to conceal Dudley.
"Ah, this is your cousin, is it, Harry?" said Mr Weasley, taking another brave stab at making conversation.
"Yep," said Harry cheerfully, "that's Dudley."
He and Ron exchanged glances and then quickly looked away from each other; the temptation to burst out laughing was almost overwhelming. Dudley was still clutching his bottom as though afraid it might fall off. Mr Weasley, however, seemed genuinely concerned at Dudley's peculiar behaviour. Indeed, from the tone of his voice when he next spoke, Harry was quite sure that Mr Weasley thought Dudley was quite as mad as the Dursleys thought he was, except that Mr Weasley felt sympathy rather than fear.
"Having a good holiday, Dudley?" he said kindly.
Dudley whimpered. Harry saw his hands tighten still harder over his massive backside. Fred and George choose that moment to come back into the room carrying Harry's school trunk. They glanced around as they entered and spotted Dudley. Their faces cracked into identical evil grins.
"Ah, right," said Mr Weasley and Harry were pretty sure that the man had seen the grins on the twins' faces. "Better get cracking then."
He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and took out his wand. Harry saw the Dursleys draw back against the wall as one.
"Incendio!" said Mr Weasley, pointing his wand at the hole in the wall behind him.
Flames rose at once in the fireplace, crackling merrily as though they had been burning for hours. Mr Weasley took a small drawstring bag from his pocket, untied it, took a pinch of the powder inside, and threw it onto the flames, which turned emerald green and roared higher than ever.
"Off you go then, Fred," said Mr Weasley.
"Coming," said Fred. "Oh no - hang on -"
A bag of sweets had spilt out of Fred's pocket and the contents were now rolling in every direction - big, fat toffees in brightly coloured wrappers.
Fred scrambled around, cramming them back into his pocket, then gave the Dursleys a cheery wave, stepped forward, and walked right into the fire, saying, "The Burrow!"
Aunt Petunia gave a little shuddering gasp. There was a whooshing sound, and Fred vanished.
"Right then, George," said Mr Weasley, "you and the trunk."
Harry helped George carry the trunk forward into the flames and turn it onto its end so that he could hold it better.
Then, with a second whoosh, George had cried, "The Burrow!" and vanished too.
"Ron, you next," said Mr Weasley.
"See you," said Ron brightly to the Dursleys. He grinned broadly at Harry, then stepped into the fire, shouted "The Burrow!" and disappeared.
Now Harry and Mr Weasley alone remained.
"Well. . . 'bye then," Harry said to the Dursleys hoping that he would not have to spend large amounts of time here ever again. He wanted to know what would be in the letter for Dumbledore but knew that it wasn't something he should try to find out. After all, he did not want Vanmoriel angry at him.
They didn't say anything at all. Harry moved toward the fire, but just as he reached the edge of the hearth, Mr Weasley put out a hand and held him back. He was looking at the Dursleys in amazement and Harry dreaded what he knew would happen now. He did not want to spend any more time here than he had to.
"Harry said goodbye to you," he said. "Didn't you hear him?"
"It doesn't matter," Harry muttered to Mr Weasley. "Honestly, I don't care."
Mr Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry's shoulder.
"You aren't going to see your nephew till next summer," he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. "Surely you're going to say good-bye?"
Uncle Vernon's face worked furiously. The idea of being taught consideration by a man who had just blasted away half his living room wall seemed to be causing him intense suffering. But Mr Weasley's wand was still in his hand, and Uncle Vernon's tiny eyes darted to it once, before he said, very resentfully, "Good-bye, then."
"See you," said Harry, putting one foot forward into the green flames, which felt pleasantly like a warm breath. At that moment, however, a horrible gagging sound erupted behind him, and Aunt Petunia started to scream. Harry wanted more than anything that he could rub his hands gleefully.
Harry wheeled around. Dudley was no longer standing behind his parents. He was kneeling beside the coffee table, and he was gagging and sputtering on a foot-long, purple, slimy thing that was protruding from his mouth. One bewildered second later, Harry realized that the foot-long thing was Dudley's tongue and that a brightly coloured toffee wrapper lay on the floor before him.
Aunt Petunia hurled herself onto the ground beside Dudley, seized the end of his swollen tongue, and attempted to wrench it out of his mouth; unsurprisingly, Dudley yelled and sputtered worse than ever, trying to fight her off. Uncle Vernon was bellowing and waving his arms around, and Mr Weasley had to shout to make himself heard. Honestly, Harry did not want him to fix that but, ah, well, what could he do about it.
"Not to worry, I can sort him out!" he yelled, advancing on Dudley with his wand outstretched, but Aunt Petunia screamed worse than ever and threw herself on top of Dudley, shielding him from Mr Weasley.
"No, really!" said Mr Weasley desperately. "It's a simple process it was the toffee - my son Fred - real practical joker - but it's only an Engorgement Charm - at least, I think it is - please, I can correct it -"
But far from being reassured, the Dursleys became more panic-stricken; Aunt Petunia was sobbing hysterically, tugging Dudley's tongue as though determined to rip it out; Dudley appeared to be suffocating under the combined pressure of his mother and his tongue; and Uncle Vernon, who had lost control completely, seized a china figure from on top of the sideboard and threw it very hard at Mr Weasley, who ducked, causing the ornament to shatter in the blasted fireplace.
"Now really!" said Mr Weasley angrily, brandishing his wand. "I'm trying to help!"
Bellowing like a wounded hippo, Uncle Vernon snatched up another ornament.
"Harry, go! Just go!" Mr Weasley shouted, his wand on Uncle Vernon. "I'll sort this out!"
Harry didn't want to miss the fun, but Uncle Vernon's second ornament narrowly missed his left ear, and on balance, he thought it best to leave the situation to Mr Weasley. He stepped into the fire, looking over his shoulder as he said "The Burrow!"
His last fleeting glimpse of the living room was of Mr Weasley blasting the third ornament out of Uncle Vernon's hand with his wand, Aunt Petunia screaming and lying on top of Dudley, and Dudley's tongue lolling around like a great slimy python. But next moment Harry had begun to spin very fast, and the Dursleys' living room was whipped out of sight in a rush of emerald-green flames. He did not know whether to feel worried about Mr Weasley.
Harry spun faster and faster, elbows tucked tightly to his sides, blurred fireplaces flashing past him until he started to feel sick and closed his eyes. Then, when at last he felt himself slowing down, he threw out his hands and came to a halt in time to prevent himself from falling face forward out of the Weasleys' kitchen fire.
"Did he eat it?" said Fred excitedly, holding out a hand to pull Harry to his feet.
"Yeah," said Harry, straightening up. "What was it?" He knew but he needed to keep up the pretence.
"Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred brightly. "George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer…"
The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter; Harry looked around and saw that Ron and George were sitting at the scrubbed wooden table with two red-haired people Harry had never seen before, though he knew immediately who they were: Bill and Charlie, the two eldest Weasley brothers.
His heart ached for a moment but he managed to keep it from being noticed by anyone there.
"How're you doing, Harry?" said the nearer of the two, grinning at him and holding out a large hand, which Harry shook, feeling calluses and blisters under his fingers. This had to be Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania. Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned; his arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.
Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry's hand. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide. He looked at the man's face, it wasn't full of scars.
Before any of them could say anything else, there was a faint popping noise, and Mr Weasley appeared out of thin air at George's shoulder. He was looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him.
"That wasn't funny Fred!" he shouted. "What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?"
"I didn't give him anything," said Fred, with another evil grin." I just dropped it. . . . It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to. "
Harry wisely decided to stay silent no matter how much he wanted to congratulate the boy in front of his father.
"You dropped it on purpose!" roared Mr Weasley. "You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet."
"How big did his tongue get?" George asked eagerly.
"It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!"
Harry and the Weasleys roared with laughter again.
"It isn't funny!" Mr Weasley shouted. "That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons-"
"We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" said Fred indignantly. Harry wanted to stay that Muggles should not be mistreated but also not included in their life, or at least not overly so.
"No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," said George. "Isn't he, Harry?"
"Yeah, he is, Mr Weasley," said Harry earnestly.
"That's not the point!" raged Mr Weasley. "You wait until I tell your mother -"
"Tell me what?" said a voice behind them.
Mrs Weasley had just entered the kitchen. She was a short, plump woman with a very kind face, though her eyes were presently narrowed with suspicion.
"Oh hello, Harry, dear," she said, spotting him and smiling. Then her eyes snapped back to her husband. "Tell me what, Arthur?"
Mr Weasley hesitated. Harry could tell that, however angry he was with Fred and George, he hadn't really intended to tell Mrs Weasley what had happened. There was a silence, while Mr Weasley eyed his wife nervously. Then two girls appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Mrs Weasley. One, with very bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth, was Harry's and Ron's friend, Hermione Granger. The other, who was small and red-haired, was Ron's younger sister, Ginny. Both of them smiled at Harry, who grinned back, which made Ginny go scarlet - she had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to the Burrow. Harry knew he'd have to correct her on that. He had two mates and he will be damned if she made it even harder for him to win them over.
"Tell me what, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley repeated, in a dangerous sort of voice.
"It's nothing, Molly," mumbled Mr Weasley, "Fred and George just - but I've had words with them -"
"What have they done this time?" said Mrs Weasley. "If it's got anything to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes -"
"Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?" said Hermione from the doorway.
"He knows where he's sleeping," said Ron, "in my room, he slept there last -"
"We can all go," said Hermione pointedly.
"Oh," said Ron, cottoning on. "Right."
Harry, honestly, wanted to stay. He did not want the twins in trouble so he did something. A first change to be made.
"Yeah, we'll come too," said George.
"You stay where you are!" snarled Mrs Weasley.
"But Mrs Weasley, why can't they come with us? They didn't do anything wrong," Harry said. "What are Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, anyway?"
Everyone looked at him like he had two heads, but at last, someone answered him and it surprised Harry that it was Ron.
"Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George's room," said Ron quietly. "Great long price lists for stuff they've invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they'd been inventing all that. . . "
"It was not brilliant!" roared Mrs Weasley
"We've been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things," said Ginny. "We thought they just liked the noise."
Ginny said it ignoring her mother. She figured that this would be a change that would be welcomed.
"Only, most of the stuff - well, all of it, really - was a bit dangerous," said Ron, "and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Told them they weren't allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms. . . . Mum's furious at them anyway. They didn't get as many O. W. L. s as she expected. "
Harry turned towards Mrs Weasley and said, "Why are you forbidding them from following their dreams. You should be proud of them, Mrs Weasley. I know I am proud of my big brothers. Furthermore, regardless of what you say I will be the first one to invest in them on the condition that they finish their schooling."
Everyone looked at him like he was someone else. The twins had small tears in their eyes and Ron, Ginny and Hermione had respect in theirs. Mrs Weasley huffed and went to the kitchen.
With that, all of the kids went upstairs. The wins were the only ones that didn't go to Harry's room. As soon as the group had entered Harry's room Percy looked inside.
"Hi, Percy," said Harry.
"Oh hello, Harry," said Percy. "I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know I've got a report to finish for the office - and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs. "
"We're not thundering, "said Ron irritably. "We're walking. Sorry if we've disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic."
"What are you working on?" said Harry. He knew what he was doing but still.
"A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," said Percy smugly. "We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin - leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year -"
"That'll change the world, that report will," said Ron. "Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron leaks."
Percy went slightly pink.
"You might sneer, Ron," he said heatedly, "but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products that seriously endanger-"
"Yeah, yeah, all right," said Ron. Percy slammed the bedroom door shut.
The room at the top of the house where Ron slept looked much as it had the last time that Harry had come to stay: the same posters of Ron's favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, were whirling and waving on the walls and sloping ceiling, and the fish tank on the windowsill, which had previously held frog spawn, now contained one extremely large frog. Ron's old rat, Scabbers, was here no more, but instead, there was the tiny grey owl that had delivered Ron's letter to Harry in Privet Drive. It was hopping up and down in a small cage and twittering madly.
"Shut up, Pig," said Ron, edging his way between two of the four beds that had been squeezed into the room. "Fred and George are in here with us, because Bill and Charlie are in their room," he told Harry. "Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because he's got to work."
"Er - why are you calling that owl Pig?" Harry asked Ron.
"Because he's being stupid," said Ginny, "Its proper name is Pigwidgeon."
Harry wanted to start laughing but withheld from it.
"Yeah, and that's not a stupid name at all," said Ron sarcastically. "Ginny named him," he explained to Harry. "She reckons it's sweet. And I tried to change it, but it was too late, he won't answer to anything else. So now he's Pig. I've got to keep him up here because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, come to that."
Pigwidgeon zoomed happily around his cage, hooting shrilly. Harry knew Ron too well to take him seriously. He had moaned continually about his old rat, Scabbers, but had been most upset when Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, appeared to have eaten him.
"Where's Crookshanks?" Harry asked Hermione now. He liked that cat.
"Out in the garden, I expect," she said. "He likes chasing gnomes. He's never seen any before. "
"Percy's enjoying work, then?" said Harry, sitting down on one of the beds and watching the Chudley Cannons zooming in and out of the posters on the ceiling.
"Enjoying it?" said Ron darkly. "I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him. He's obsessed. Just don't get him onto the subject of his boss. According to Mr Crouch. . . as I was saying to Mr Crouch. . . Mr Crouch is of the opinion. . . Mr Crouch was telling me. . . They'll be announcing their engagement any day now. "
"Have you had a good summer, Harry?" said Hermione. "Did you get our food parcels and everything?"
"Yeah, thanks a lot," said Harry. "They saved my life, those cakes."
"And have you heard from -?" Ron began, but at a look from Hermione, he fell silent. Harry knew Ron had been about to ask about Sirius. Ron and Hermione had been so deeply involved in helping Sirius escape from the Ministry of Magic that they were almost as concerned about Harry's godfather as he was. However, discussing him in front of Ginny was a bad idea. Nobody but they and Professor Dumbledore knew about how Sirius had escaped or believed in his innocence.
"Listen, guys, I want to tell you something later but perhaps dinner first?" Harry said feeling a bit nervous.
"Yeah, all right," said Ron. The four of them left Ron's room and went back downstairs to find Mrs Weasley alone in the kitchen, looking extremely bad-tempered.
"We're eating out in the garden," she said when they came in. "There's just not room for eleven people in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two," she said to Ron and Harry, pointing her wand a little more vigorously than she had intended at a pile of potatoes in the sink, which shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling.
"Oh for heaven's sake," she snapped, now directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and started skating across the floor, scooping up the potatoes.
Mrs Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the wand tip as she stirred. Harry knew why she was so annoyed but he really thought that he had done the right thing and would not back down
Mrs Weasley jabbed her wand at the cutlery drawer, which shot open. Harry and Ron both jumped out of the way as several knives soared out of it, flew across the kitchen, and began chopping the potatoes, which had just been tipped back into the sink by the dustpan.
"C'mon," Ron said hurriedly to Harry, seizing a handful of cutlery from the open drawer, "let's go and help Bill and Charlie."
They left Mrs Weasley and headed out the back door into the yard.
They had only gone a few paces when Hermione's bandy-legged ginger cat, Crookshanks, came pelting out of the garden, bottle-brush tail held high in the air, chasing what looked like a muddy potato on legs. Harry recognized it instantly as a gnome. Barely ten inches high, its horny little feet pattered very fast as it sprinted across the yard and dived headlong into one of the Wellington boots that lay scattered around the door. Harry could hear the gnome giggling madly as Crookshanks inserted a paw into the boot, trying to reach it. Meanwhile, a very loud crashing noise was coming from the other side of the house. The source of the commotion was revealed as they entered the garden and saw that Bill and Charlie both had their wands out, and were making two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other's out of the air. Fred and George were cheering, Ginny was laughing, and Hermione was hovering near the hedge, apparently torn between amusement and anxiety.
Bill's table caught Charlie's with a huge bang and knocked one of its legs off. There was a clatter from overhead, and they all looked up to see Percy's head poking out of a window on the second floor.
"Will you keep it down?!" he bellowed.
"Sorry, Perce," said Bill, grinning. "How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?"
"Very badly," said Percy peevishly, and he slammed the window shut. Chuckling, Bill and Charlie directed the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, and then, with a flick of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg and conjured tablecloths from nowhere.
By seven o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs Weasley's excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were settling themselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky. To somebody who had been living on meals of increasingly stale cake all summer, this was paradise, and at first, Harry listened rather than talked as he helped himself to chicken and ham pie, boiled potatoes, and salad.
At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father all about his report on cauldron bottoms.
"I've told Mr Crouch that I'll have it ready by Tuesday," Percy was saying pompously. "That's a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he'll be grateful I've done it in good time, I mean, it's extremely busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup. We're just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman -"
"I like Ludo," said Mr Weasley mildly. "He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favour: His brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble - a lawnmower with unnatural powers - I smoothed the whole thing over. "
"Oh Bagman's likeable enough, of course," said Percy dismissively, "but how he ever got to be Head of Department. . . when I compare him to Mr Crouch! I can't see Mr Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what's happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back?"
"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," said Mr Weasley, frowning. "He says Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now - though must say, if it was someone in my department, I'd be worried. . . . "
"Oh Bertha's hopeless, all right," said Percy. "I hear she's been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she's worth. . . but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr Crouch has been taking a personal interest, she worked in our department at one time, you know, and I think Mr Crouch was quite fond of her - but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However" - Percy heaved an impressive sigh and took a deep swig of elderflower wine - "we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we've got another big event to organize right after the World Cup. "
Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down toward the end of the table where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting. "You know the one I'm talking about, Father." He raised his voice slightly. "The top-secret one."
Ron rolled his eyes and muttered to Harry and Hermione, "He's been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons. "
Harry knew what this was about but he let it go. He seriously did not like the Tournament.
In the middle of the table, Mrs Weasley was arguing with Bill about his earring, which seemed to be a recent acquisition.
". . . with a horrible great fang on it. Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?"
"Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure," said Bill patiently.
"And your hair's getting silly, dear," said Mrs Weasley, fingering her wand lovingly. " I wish you'd let me give it a trim. . . . "
"I like it," said Ginny, who was sitting beside Bill. "You're so old-fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it's nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore's… "
Next, to Mrs Weasley, Fred, George, and Charlie were all talking spiritedly about the World Cup.
"It's got to be Ireland," said Charlie thickly, through a mouthful of potato. "They flattened Peru in the semi-finals."
"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," said Fred.
"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," said Charlie shortly. "I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was. "
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten," said Charlie gloomily. "Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg. "
Harry had been on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team ever since his first year at Hogwarts and owned one of the best racing brooms in the world, a Firebolt. Flying came more naturally to Harry than anything else in the magical world, and he played in the position of Seeker on the Gryffindor House team.
Mr Weasley conjured up candles to light the darkening garden before they had their homemade strawberry ice cream, and by the time they had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle. Harry was feeling extremely well fed and at peace with the world as he watched several gnomes sprinting through the rosebushes, laughing madly and closely pursued by Crookshanks.
Ron looked carefully up the table to check that the rest of the family were all busy talking, and then he said very quietly to Harry, "So - have you heard from Sirius lately? Also, can we get a sneak-peak at what you've got to say later?"
Hermione looked around, listening closely.
"Yeah," said Harry softly, "twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I'm here. Also to the second, no."
"Look at the time," Mrs Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. "You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you-you'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time. "
"Wow - hope it does this time!" said Harry enthusiastically but knowing it won't.
"Well, I certainly don't," said Percy sanctimoniously. "I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."
"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" said Fred.
"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" said Percy, going very red in the face. "It was nothing personal!"
"It was," Fred whispered to Harry as they got up from the table. "We sent it."
From there all of them went to the room and waited for Harry to start talking.
"You see, guys over the summer I realised something."
"What?" was heard from twins Ron, Hermione and Ginny.
Harry took a deep breath and said, "I realised that I was gay."
Harry thought that there was no reason to beat around the bush because he really wanted them to accept him. They were the closest thing that he had ever had to the siblings.
The first one to stop being frozen was surprisingly Ron.
"You don't right redheads do you?"
That immediately unfroze the rest of them and they looked at each other to see who will talk first. It seemed it would be Hermione.
"I honestly can't say that I am surprised, Harry. I expected it to be honest with you."
"So you don't mind?" Harry asked.
He heard scoffs from the twins and saw an eye roll from Ron and Hermione.
"Of course not, you dimwit. Although I reserve the spot of your personal confidante and want to be the first one to hear the juicy details," Ginny said.
This caused Fred to ask, "So any crushes?"
"Actually, yes, but I don't want you to hate me." Harry knew he was playing it thin but he had the thought that if they accepted Harry's 'crush' at Snape they might help him later.
"Well who?" the girls asked together and Hermione continued, "We'll kill the dim boys if they dare to ridicule you."
"S-s-s" Harry mumbled.
"Harry, we do not speak Parseltongue," Ron said dryly.
"Severus Snape," Harry said more clearly.
At first, the room froze but then George fixed it with his comment.
"Ah, at least it isn't Voldemort."
"Or Dumbledore," added Fred.
"That would've been disturbing," the two said together.
After that, they joked for a while before going to sleep.