Come Back To What You Know

Fred and George were babbling on about the reinvention of the Mumbles Bumblebees Quidditch team and how the Cockfosters Cockfrotters, not their official name but the label they had to live with due to the public latching on to it as soon as a commentator mispronounced the team name during a semi-final years ago, didn't have a hope in hell. Lee just tagged along the same way he'd always done through school and nodded whenever they needed to be agreed with and laughed when they looked to him to confirm they'd been funny.

He was sure there had been more to their friendship than that. He knew he hadn't been there as nothing more than the person they were showing off to. It was fun. When the twins had left the school during the Umbridge reign of terror and Lee stayed behind, he was utterly lost without them. Nobody really noticed him anymore, as if they ever had, and even though he was the big Quidditch commentator and tried to keep the anarchy torch burning for the twins by floating Nifflers into Umbridge's office he was still invisible.

The twins were four pairs of shoes to fill and Lee only had two feet.

"See the Welsh are the new Quidditch nation. I reckon if Wales played Ireland today, they'd cream them!" George said boldly as he walked through the throngs of Cockfosters supporters.

"See, all those years in the League of Wales meant we never got to see how good they were," Fred turned his head to talk over his shoulder at Lee, "and then when Celtic nations all joined up with the Anglo Romany league, the whole league table was turned on its head. The best English team was struggling to compete with the worst Celtic team."

"It became very clear, very fast why England weren't doing well in international matches." George nodded.

"I was only away for a few weeks, lads," Lee said sulkily. "I do know all of that already."

The twins looked at each other anxiously before slowing their pace and falling into step on either side of Lee.

"We were just kicking off a conversation, mate," Fred said with a nudge to Lee's ribs and a nervous smile.

"Yeah, you love talking about Quidditch as if it's a mirror of society, and as if it's a reason for living, and as if it's..."

"It's just a bloody game," Lee huffed and sped up to leave them trailing behind him in shock.

"Ron!" Hagrid boomed as he flung his arms wide and then froze as if he'd been stunned. "Good teh see yer!"

Hagrid reverted to a two armed wave and Ron snorted at the ridiculous sight and soon Harry and Hermione were laughing along with him. Hagrid looked embarrassed but seemed to have been put at ease by Ron not fainting at the thought of a great big half giant hugging him. Fang bounded over to the three of them and Harry stepped in front of Ron to make sure the dog's enthusiastic greeting didn't ruin the good mood everyone was in. Fang's large hind quarters knocked Hermione into Hagrid's pile of dead ferrets and his front paws landed heavily on Harry's shoulders.

"Fang, down!" Hagrid said gruffly. "No, boy, down!"

Harry staggered backwards into Ron and the two of them fell into Hagrid's huge armchair behind him, Fang still pinning Harry beneath his massive paws and slobbering all over his face. Hagrid grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck and pulled him off them and Harry flailed his legs around in an attempt to climb off Ron's lap and out of the chair. He could feel Ron's body shaking beneath him and threw himself over the armrest just to get off his best friend's lap.

Turning to look over his shoulder, Harry was stunned to see Ron pink faced and breathless with laughter.

"Ron?" Harry gasped in shock.

"I got a lap dance from Harry Potter!" Ron wheezed. "Oh where's the Skeeter woman when you really need her?"

Hermione, despite being covered in ferret blood and black, oozing stuff, started laughing delightedly and Hagrid looked immeasurably pleased with himself.

"Reckon I migh' 'ave a camera somewhere. How much d'yeh think she'd pay me fer it?"

Harry shifted his weight so he was sitting on the armrest and his feet were resting on the cushion beside Ron. He smiled at him and Ron wiped his leaking eyes with his thumb before lifting his hand and pretending to shove Harry off the arm backwards. Harry held up his hands defensively.

"You do it, Weasley, and I'm taking you with me!" he warned.

"Same as always, eh?" Ron said cheekily.

Fergus tried to tune out the sound of his mother's voice but it became impossible when his Aunt Kathleen Flooed into the living room screeching about her Seamus being as stupid as he was ugly, which Fergus had to admit was very harsh, before pouncing on him and shaking him by the shoulders.

"You aren't goin' anywhere, my boy!"

"I'm not yer boy, Auntie Kath," Fergus said with determination just as the fireplace blazed green again and Seamus ran out after his mother and bellowed at her.

"Yeh can't lock me undies away forever, Ma. I can still move out without undies, ya know? There's this new t'ing called shops and I can buy more!"

"She locked away yer pants, Shay?" Fergus asked incredulously.

"Can yeh believe it? She's like a child!" Seamus exclaimed in amazement.

Kathleen Finnegan slapped her son across the face and went red in the face.

"I wiped yer arse and cleaned yer piss-soaked sheets, young fella, me lad, so I'll have some respect from you."

"Give me somethin' ta respect, Ma!" Seamus said cruelly.

"Seamus shut yer trap and wait in the kitchen," Fergus' mum said sternly.

"But Aunt Marie I'm old enough teh move out if I wan-"

"The kitchen, Seamus!" she boomed.

Seamus glanced at Fergus before stomping away.

"I'm goin' even if you don't. I've feckin' had it."

"I'm goin, Shay," Fergus said calmly before turning to face his mother, "I'll leave everything I own behind, undies and all, but I'll still be goin,' Ma."

"For what reason?" his mother demanded of him.

"Because I'm a man bein' treated like a child or worse..." Fergus almost stopped himself. He hesitated and nearly managed to stop himself but not quite, "...like a substitute fer Da."

His mother swelled and her eyes bulged. His Aunt Kathleen looked as if she was waiting for him to be knocked to the ground so she could start kicking him when he was down. When his ma finally spoke her voice was low and level, it was unnerving to be honest.

"I never had teh nag yer father, not once, an' d'you know why that was, Fergus?"

"Because ye had him castrated?" Fergus said, his inner-self screaming at him to stop being such an arse.

"Because yer father respected me," the proud, yet furious, woman hissed into his face. "Yer not leavin' this house, son. I'm tellin' ye ya get out. Get out and stay away until ye remember what made yer father a man and what makes you a boy."

"Ma y-"

"Get out!"

Fergus drew in a shaky breath but held his nerve. He sidestepped his mother and walked silently into the kitchen. He saw Seamus staring at him, looking astonished, and nodded towards the back door.

"Fergus, yeh shouldn't leave it like tha. Yeh Ma's not like mine, she's a good auld bird."

"I have teh go, Shay," Fergus said quietly. "We both need me teh go away."

"So why do you think you're suited to a career in the food service industry, Mr Painter?"

"Err..." Tommy sat back in his seat and puffed out his cheeks, looking up at the ceiling as he ransacked his brain for a thought that wasn't 'get over yourself, you saddo...it's just a chip shop', "...well everybody has to eat, don't they?"

"Everybody doesn't have to eat here though, do they? We entice them in and keep them loyal to us with exceptional customer service."

"Yeah," Tommy nodded, "that, too."

The interviewer drew him a breath and let it out heavily before proceeding.

"So why don't you give me an example of good customer service?"

Because it's bloody obvious, you great prat!

"Well," Tommy began, trying to imagine that chips were the staple food of a whole civilisation and his not serving them well enough would lead to mass starvation, "I'd make sure to smile and acknowledge the customer as soon as they stepped through our door, before even! Yes, I'd just be smiling the whole time, even when nobody was looking."

"Right," the interviewer said as he wrote something down on his clip board and crossed his legs.

"And I'd make sure that everything was to the customer's satisfaction," Tommy added, feeling something of a roll coming on, "and if it wasn't I'd make them my personal guarantee that next time it would be. That'd bring the person back just to see if I delivered on my promise, y'see?"

"I see, yes," the man said, utterly unimpressed. "But we don't really want to be making apologies for shoddy work, do we?"

Tommy stared at the man and didn't say a word.

"So, you do seem enthusiastic. I notice you've never had a job before. Why is that, Mr Painter?"

Tommy blinked and sat back in his chair.

"Mr Painter?"

"Can I ask you something?" Tommy said as he leaned forward over the man's desk.

The man leaned closer.

"Of course."

"Do you realise that if chips stopped existing, the world would still keep going?"

The man looked stunned.

"What are you...?"

"I mean, this is a job where I am polite to people who want to buy chips," Tommy said with a smile. "They come in and say 'Can I have a bag of chips please?' and I say 'Of course' and I give them a bag of chips and they give me a quid and I'm happy and they're happy. Then they leave. What more do you want?"

"Well, there's more to the job than just tha-"

"No," Tommy said firmly, "there isn't. Your job is not important. A doctor, they're important people, so are nurses. A scientist does something, they produce something, they learn something. There are people out there who aren't working but who are giving more to society in one week than the likes of you will ever do in your life. You sell people chips. That's all you do. There is no more to the job than that."

"Well, I can see there's nothing more to cover in this interview." The man smiled as he put down his clipboard and pen and extended his hand for Tommy to shake.

Tommy looked at the man's hand and stood up from his chair without shaking it.

"You wanted to know why I never had a job, sir?" he said coolly. "It's quite simple, really. I want to do something more than stand on the sidelines selling starch, salt and fat to the people who actually have lives."

"Good luck with that, Mr Painter," the interviewer said, avoiding Tommy's eyes.

"I don't need luck," Tommy said sharply. "I just need to walk out of this place and never have to come back again to have done better than you."

He left without another word and wondered what he'd tell his mother about the overdue gas bill he still couldn't help her pay.

Lee felt self-conscious and edgy, out in such a public place, and when he wasn't avoiding people's eyes, he was glaring at them as if challenging them to say something to him.

"So we were thinking, mate," Fred began, seeming to want to say anything to defuse the tension in his best friend, "your Quidditch commentaries were the stuff of legend, right?"

"Luna Lovegood seemed to have eclipsed me from just one match," Lee mumbled. "I reckon I'm probably Lee who?' to half of Hogwarts by now."

"Bollocks, you are!" George said loudly. "Your microphone fights with McGonagall are going to be documented in the re-print of Hogwarts: A History!"

"Just forget it," Lee said glumly. "School's over."

Fred swelled with determination and swung his arm around Lee's shoulders.

"School's never over, Lee. Charlie was a Hogwarts legend before we even started going to school and he still gets Gryffindor fans accosting him wherever he goes."

"Up a mountain in the Andes, he was," George nodded with an enthusiastic smile, "and this local man wearing animal skins who didn't speak a word of English was on his way down with some moss stuff that only grows at the summit and he saw our Charlie..."

"Dropped his moss AND his spear AND his wand!" Fred added.

"And squeaked like a sixteen-yearold girl 'Charlie Weeeslee!' and hugged him like a brother," George said in proud amazement.

"Then he took out this Quidditch annual and flicked to Charlie's page and got him to sign it. You're telling me that people forget school Quidditch?" Fred boggled. "That bloke didn't even go to Hogwarts and he went giddy over Charlie!"

Lee huffed and slouched back in his seat in the stands between the twins so he couldn't see the couple further up the row pointing at him and gossiping.

"That's different, he was a player. When was the last time you heard people leaving a Quidditch match going on about the commentary?"

"Well, Ron wouldn't shut up about Luna's," George said before he realised he was saying completely the wrong thing.

"AND," Fred said as he glared at his twin, "everybody used to come up to you in the common room quoting you back to yourself, didn't they?"

"Guys, what's your point?" Lee groaned.

The teams were warming up on the oval pitch and the crowd were getting restless and chanting for their favourite players. George raised his voice to be heard over the singing.

"Did we ever tell you about the Omnioculars Harry got at the last World Cup?"

"Yeah," Lee said with a finger in his ear to block out the swelling noise.

"Well, we thought of doing something similar but with audio instead of visual," Fred explained with great enthusiasm.

"We want to make something you can point at the pitch and have these two extendable ear type attachments and as the match proceeds the person will get your voice delivering a classic Lee Jordan commentary!"

Lee stared at George as he finished and blinked. The crowd roared as the home team did a lap of the ground on their brooms. Lee turned his head to blink at Fred and then swallowed before getting to his feet and calling over to the couple who had been gossiping about him a little way away.

"Hey, you two," he called out, "do you want to hear what I think about Quidditch?"

The woman flushed in the face and looked down into her lap while the man puffed out his chest and narrowed his eyes at Lee.

"Why don't you fuck off?"

Lee turned to look down at the twins and he threw his arms wide with a bitter smile on his face.

"See?" he said before calling to the crowded stand behind him. "Any of you lot willing to pay for a match commentary from me?"

"Sit down, son," a man with three young children sitting with him said firmly but sympathetically.

The crowd hissed with the multiple whispers of people recognising him and telling the person they were sitting next to them who he was and what he'd done.

"Lee, sit down," George said anxiously, tugging at his friend's wrist.

"No, seriously," Lee said, still addressing the crowd, "how many of you want to hear what I have to say on anything?"

"Kiss my arse!" somebody from way back yelled out.

"Don't say that," a man sitting directly behind Fred snorted. "He won't know when to stop. Got the taste for it now, haven't ya sicko?"

Fred was up, turning and throwing his punch before anybody could react.

"You shut your bloody mouth!" he bellowed into the man's bloodied face.

"Fellas," the reasonable man called out once more, "I have young 'uns here. Please!"

George grabbed Fred and dragged him away. Lee clambered over several rows to get to the aisle and ran down the stairs ahead of them.

"Lee!" George was calling after him. "Lee hold up!"

"That fuckin' swine!" Fred was still thrashing in his brother's arms, wanting to go back and finish knocking the rude man's block off.

"If you don't come back here now I'm gonna stop you seeing Ron!" George shouted furiously.

Lee froze instantly. It was as if he had a bucket of icy water dumped over his head. The twins caught up with him and sat him down on a bench in the deserted ticket sales area. They sat on either side of him and Fred put an arm around him and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"S'okay, mate," Fred said unsteadily, "he just said that to get you to stop. We wouldn't banish you from The Burrow or anything, as if we could!" he said with a snort and a chuckle.

Lee looked at George's face and he didn't look so amused.

"That right, George?" Lee asked the kinder of the two Weasleys.

George drew in a deep breath and fixed his eyes on Lee's.

"Honestly," George began, "I want you to back off and give him some space."

"George!" Fred snapped, glaring at his twin.

"You think it, too," George huffed. "You just don't like having serious conversations."

"So you're..." Lee was stunned by George's announcement and tried to react t the same time he was trying to process the information, "...jealous of the time I'm spending with Ron?"

"No," Fred said firmly, shaking his head.

"No," George said even more clearly.

"Oh come on," Lee gave a weak laugh, "you made such a big deal out of today. Me and you two spending the day together, just us, just the three of us like the good ol' days. That was what you said."

"Yeah," George nodded, "we wanted to go to a match with our mate like it wasn't anything special but something perfectly normal like it is for everybody else."

"So people are gonna look and whisper and stuff, but they'll get over it. They'll find something new to bitch about. You shouldn't have to hide at our mum's house or your mum's house until it blows over," Fred said as he rubbed Lee's back.

Lee shrugged Fred's touch off with a disgruntled huff.

"Look, I know you two don't have a lot of time for Ron but we got closer, alright? You're just going to have to deal with tha--"

"What?" Fred snapped angrily.

"You wanna re-phrase that Lee!" George said, body tense.

"Come off it," Lee laughed bitterly. "I was just the same. I didn't pay any attention to him but..."

"We are not the same to Ron," Fred said with a furrowed brow, "of course you didn't pay attention to him, he was just a younger kid in the common room to you. He's our brother!"

Lee turned his head and stared at Fred, unable to believe he could be that hurtful to him. George caught on right away and physically turned Lee to face him instead.

"We're talking back then, okay? Back then he was nothing to you and he was our brother. You can't say he was nothing to us just because we didn't coddle him and fight his battles for him. He's our baby brother and to you that's all he was but we know that's different for you now."

Lee stood up and began to pace up and down.

"I think it's cool that you and Ronniekins are like brothers now, I really do," Fred said anxiously, "but he is our brother. He's not like our brother he just is."

"So you took me out today to keep me away from him?" Lee said angrily.

"We took you out today to get you out!" George explained, waving his arms animatedly.

"Just because you and Ron are closer, it doesn't mean the three of us have to change?" Fred said as he stood up as well. "We can still be friends like before."

"Before?" Lee snapped and ran a hand over his dreads. "Before I let your little brother get tortured or before I let him get molested or maybe before I turned my back on him when he needed me? How about before he went catatonic and I couldn't do anything to help him because I was so utterly useless?"

"You couldn't do anything because you'd had your fucking back flayed to keep that sadist's hands off him!" Fred said fiercely.

"You're my best friends and I told him, I promised him, I'd look after him the way you would have looked after him and I didn't!"

"No, you didn't," George shook his head.

"You really didn't," Fred agreed.

"You did much better."

Lee gulped and hugged his arms to himself. Fred guided him back to the bench and sat him down again.

"You deserve to have fun," Fred said in a low tone.

"You don't deserve to have to hide away." George nudged him in the side.

"You've nothing to be ashamed of." Fred smiled.

"I do," Lee nodded blankly. "I'm ashamed of holding him down with me when he's really trying to get over it."

"Well, we'll help you with that," George said simply.

"We want to help you both. We want to see you both through all this shit so you don't have to lean so heavily on each other." Fred said, sounding the least bit Fred-like Lee had ever heard.

The last time he'd heard the twins this serious was when they'd come back from visiting Ron in the hospital after his poisoning, when they heard about their father being attacked by Voldemort's snake, when Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets.

Maybe the twins being serious wasn't so out-of-character after all.

Hermione was amazed at two things.

Number one was that Ron hadn't flinched once despite the fact that every time Madame Rosmerta topped off his drink, she'd stroke his hair and smile kindly at him.

Number two was that she wasn't the least bit jealous or angry with Rosmerta for doing so.

The visit to Hagrid had relaxed Ron so much that when he walked into the Three Broomsticks with Harry and Hermione, he didn't seem to be paranoid about people staring or talking about him at all. Hermione spotted McGonagall sitting in a quiet corner with Professor Flitwick, sipping a glass of sherry and guessed that she had made it clear to the patrons of the Wizarding pub that anybody stepping over the line around Ron would be in for the full force of her fury. Hermione discreetly raised her glass to her former teacher who smiled and winked back at her.

"Oh!" Ron suddenly exclaimed as he set his bottle of Butterbeer down.

"What?" Harry frowned, leaning forward.

"I just remembered--I didn't do my speech therapy exercises today!"

Harry smiled.

"Well, you didn't exactly need 'em today, did you?"

Ron frowned.

"Huh?"

"You've hardly stuttered all day, mate," Harry said proudly.

Ron's ears pinked a little and he lifted the bottle to his lips to take a swig. Hermione took his free hand beneath the table and gave it a squeeze.

"It's been a nice day, hasn't it?" she said to the two of them.

"Yeah," Ron nodded and dribbled down his chin.

Harry snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled out a tissue to wipe his face. As she dabbed and Ron grinned it suddenly sunk in that she was holding his face and stroking along his jaw and neck with her tissue. Their pupils began to dilate and Ron cleared his throat.

"I think you got it all."

"Yes," she nodded, still holding his face.

Harry was watching as if he had money on the outcome of this moment and whispered across the table.

"Just kiss her!"

Ron burst out laughing and Hermione joined in. She scrunched up the tissue and threw it across the table at Harry. The soft ball bounced off his forehead and Ron snorted into his bottle, still shaking with laughter, while Hermione took hold of Ron's hand again and rested their clasped hands on top of the table. Ron rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand and looked across to Harry.

"I was thinking about talking to Dad about...maybe training up for a job in the Ministry."

"What?" Harry's eyes widened in shock at Ron's unexpected announcement.

Ron immediately squeezed Hermione's hand tighter and looked down at his drink.

"Well, only if you're okay with it, y'know? That's why I wanted to talk to you first," he mumbled.

"Okay with me?" Harry blinked, not following this at all. "Why should you have to run your jobs past me?"

Ron glanced up again.

"Well, it's the Ministry, isn't it?" Ron shrugged, tilting his head at an apologetic angle. "They screwed you over and keep on doing it."

"They also have good people working for them to improve it and get rid of all those stupid politicians who would rather lie to the public and bury problems that need to be dealt with under the carpet," Hermione said in her most political activist-like voice.

"Yeah," Harry smirked, "what she said. Besides, your dad works for the Ministry, so it can't be all bad."

Ron seemed a lot happier about his announcement now but Hermione could tell there was one more thing he wanted to get Harry's opinion on before seriously considering his options.

"Ron, what is it?"

"Well," Ron began, pausing to take a drink from his bottle and set it down again as he swallowed, "the Ministry, they're international aren't they? I mean they have international dealings and stuff."

Hermione nodded.

"Yeah, like when the World Cup was being organised and the Tri-Wizard thing," Harry said.

"And we have Embassies in other countries, I mean the two of you know that well enough, don't you?" Ron said darkly.

"So you want to be an Ambassador, do you?" Hermione beamed. "Oh I love it. I love how you have high expectations of yourself now, Ron, I really..." Hermione was twitching all over with the desire to throw herself at him and hug him so tightly his ribs would crack.

Ron gave her a lopsided grin and leaned into her, putting his arms loosely around her and nodding while rolling his eyes at Harry.

"Go on then, let me breathe, though."

Harry laughed and Hermione returned his loose hug before settling into his side comfortably.

"And I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not looking to be an Ambassador or a diplomat or anything like that."

Harry burst into giggles and Ron gaped at him.

"What's so funny?" he asked his best friend.

"Just the idea of you being a diplomat!" Harry said crumpling down into his seat with laughter. "No offence Ron but that's like throwing petrol onto a fire."

"Oh sod off, ya git!" Ron huffed, trying to look grumpy and offended but his lip curling wickedly as he frisbeed a beer mat at Harry.

"Will you two stop chucking stuff at me?" Harry said as he batted the beer mat away with one hand.

Hermione giggled as Ron's arm hung around her shoulders and held her into his side comfortably.

"So what sort of job would you be interested in then, Ron?" she asked, looking up at him expectantly.

"Well, I'm not fluent but I've got a head start and we know I can learn it pretty fast so I thought...maybe...well the new Ambassador in Holland might need an interpreter."

Harry and Hermione were silent. They started at him blankly and Ron swallowed.

"Or like you said, international public relations and stuff, sports events and...and stuff? Maybe it's...yeah, maybe it's stupid."

"No!" Hermione sat up and shook her head emphatically. "It's not stupid at all, it's a wonderful idea. It's a job about communication and unification and...Oh Ron, it's a wonderful idea."

Ron shrugged and blushed.

"Well, like I said I'd have to speak to Dad and find out if something like that's realistic first." He glanced over at Harry and winced. "You're worried about something, aren't you?"

Harry pressed his lips together thoughtfully before leaning over the table and looking Ron in the eye.

"It's just that...you speak Dutch when you get upset or frustrated or frightened. Dutch doesn't seem to be...something you enjoy...not, not that...I mean..."

"It owns me?" Ron offered up.

"Kind of," Harry nodded, "you didn't learn Dutch because you wanted to--you learned it because you needed to. When we...When I hear you speaking Dutch, it's normally because you're unhappy. I wouldn't want you to take a job that would make you unhappy."

Ron smiled at Harry and leaned over the table so they were practically head-to-head.

"The thing is," he said in a low voice, causing Hermione to lean forward as well, "I have this whole other language that just seems to happen to me."

Harry nodded and Ron continued.

"I wanna learn more of it but I wanna learn to control when I use it as well. I wanna say it when I choose to say it. I wanna speak it because I choose to speak it, y'know?"

"Yeah, I get it. I'm with you now," Harry said, looking a lot happier about Ron's plan now.

"It's like magic, I could do magic before I went to school, just like you two could." Ron nodded between Harry and Hermione. "Only there was no control over it so I went to school and I learned how to control it and use it at will to do what I wanted it to do. It's like that. I don't want this other language to happen to me when I least expect it, I want to choose to speak in another language."

"I bet you will do as well," Harry said with a confident smile.

"I think you'll be wonderful," Hermione beamed.

Madame Rosmerta approached the table and, on noticing Hermione had become much closer to Ron physically, refrained from stroking her hand softly over his hair.

"Another round, my loves?" she asked them amiably.

"What do you think?" Harry asked them. "Stay for one more?"

"I'm happy enough here," Hermione nodded.

"Another round it is then," Ron smiled before wriggling away from Hermione with a frown of apology, "but I really need the loo before I can drink anymore. Keep my seat warm for me?"

Hermione grinned and shifted around so Ron could squeeze past and set off to the gents.

"Back in a bit," he waved before setting off.

"This day," Harry said in shock as soon as Ron vanished into the gents toilets, "has gone so much better than I could have ever hoped for."

"I know," Hermione let out a relieved sigh, eyes wide. "Maybe it's being here. Everybody around here remembers him growing up and they know what he's like so they don't judge him."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "this was definitely a better experience for him then when he goes out in London."

Suddenly the door to the gents toilets banged open and a tall, robed man came running out, face white as a ghost. Harry and Hermione were on their feet and running towards the lavatory immediately.

"Somebody Floo for a Healer! Something's wrong with the Weasley kid!" the man shouted.

McGonagall got to the man before they did.

"What happened, Melvin?" she demanded as she marched into the gents without hesitation, closely followed by an anxious Harry and Hermione.

"He was at the urinal having a slash and I just stepped up to the one next to him and got ready to go and he just...he looked at me as if I was You-Know-Who and went down on the floor like a sack of spuds and started jerking about!"

"Oh no," Hermione whimpered.

"What did you do?" Harry snarled.

"I didn't do anything!" the man exclaimed while McGonagall crouched over Ron and twirled her wand around his head, muttering incantations under her breath. "I didn't even say anything to him. You don't talk when you're pissing, do ya?"

"Harry, it wasn't him," Hermione said tearfully, clutching the arm of his jumper and fighting to hold in her tears. "It wasn't anyone. He's having a fit, a stress-induced seizure. The Healers warned us this might happen, remember? It's from one of the blows to his head."

McGonagall appeared to change tact on hearing this and flicked her wand at Ron's sweaty face. A soft, purple spell sank into his head and Ron's jerky movements stilled.

"He needs to be taken to Poppy in the Hospital Wing. It's faster and safer for him that transporting him to St Mungo's. Let his Healers come to him," the Headmistress said sharply as the man, Melvin, levitated Ron onto an invisible stretcher and floated him out of the toilet, through the pub and out onto the street.

"Hermione, I don't understand. If that bloke didn't do anything, why would Ron...?"

"Think about it, Harry," Hermione said, tears falling freely now, "a strange man walks up to him from behind, opens his robes and takes out his penis."

"Oh God!" Harry shuddered. "Is he going to be alright?"

Hermione knew that McGonagall had done enough to halt Ron's seizure and Madam Pomfrey could fix up any ill effects like new. It wasn't serious but it was highly unpleasant.

Things had just been going too well.