Chapter Ⅳ
Broomsticks and Cottages
(No Ron, you cannot take a weapon with you to Hagrid's because of Fang- besides you have your wand...)
Harry didn't know what flying would be like. Ron, in all his Quidditch-enthused excitement, rambled on and on about how great it was and that how fast you could go. He was skeptical but if his friend said it was fun, it must be in some aspect.
Hermione looked quite miffed at the thought of flying, staring at the brooms lying on the ground with something akin to disdain. He'd seen the expression on Aunt Petunia's face so many times when he'd come in filthy, or he'd mess up on his chores or cooking. The last two mostly ended with a beating as well but he digresses.
Madame Hooch, a woman with spiky white hair and golden eyes, looked at them sharply and spoke with a voice lined with daggers. She quickly explained how flying worked, giving them a brief run-down of the rules as well.
He stood next to his broom, waiting for her instructions. Ron stands next to him, looking faintly nervous but saying nothing. He did accept a soft hand squeeze from him though. Harry silently thought he was getting far too attached, far too quickly. Then he dismissed the thought when his friends came up to him, eager to share something, their eyes bright and genuinely excited to talk to him.
Kicking himself, Harry turned his attention back to Madame Hooch. He held his hand over his broom. "Up." The broom shot up immediately; he scrunched his nose when the broom smacked into his palm. The wood hurt.
Ron looked at him in amazement, his broom had hit him, and Hermione's had rolled over, seemingly sensing her reluctancy to get off the ground.
Harry got onto the broom easily, shifting as Madame Hooch instructed each of them how to grip, sit, fly, on a broom.
She surveyed each of them, before nodding in approval. "When I blow my whistle, you may kick off. Get ready... set..." Her whistle went off and Harry kicked off, shooting upward.
Immediately, Harry knew what flying was like.
Flying was amazing.
Joy built in him, the near moment after the wind began to rustle his hair and he swerved around, coming face to face with Ron. He grinned at the red head.
Ron took a small ball from his pocket. "Want to play catch?" Blue eyes looked at him in apprehension and Harry nodded quickly.
"Sure!" He twirled on his broom and floated a few inches higher. "You throw first."
A smile was aimed his way and Ron threw the ball. The yellow sphere went into the air and Harry darted after it. He stirred his broom easily, giggling internally at the way the wind brushed against his face. His limbs felt lighter than he'd ever felt, the weightlessness was glorious. Harry brushed his broom to the side, the commands coming almost instinctually. The ball smacked into his open and waiting hands.
With all the power he could muster, he threw the ball as hard as he could too Ron. His friend zipped after the ball, catching it easily, albiet his flying was slightly shakier than Harry's. The game continued, Harry became looser and more relaxed as time went on.
Loki, as it turned out, hated flying, hissing threats to him whenever they stopped moving enough for him to gather his snaky thoughts. Harry would have called it funny if he hadn't been given a threatening cut by Loki's fangs for going too fast. He'd dropped Loki off in the tree nearby, where he promised to collect him after he was doing playing Catch with Ron.
Hermione joined a little bit into the game, though she didn't particularly enjoy flying, she used wicked charms to throw the ball farther than what either of them could do with their arms. Harry caught it most time but sometimes Ron would do some odd move that Harry didn't understand and manage to catch it.
"The perks of having so many siblings." was what Ron had said when Harry asked him where he learned that moved. It had been accompanied with a smile that said Ron was glad to have his secret-type thing. He asked nothing more, merely soaking in the cryptic joy in the redhead's eyes.
Soon catch was abandoned, easily becoming a race-catch-game between the three of them, Hermione throwing the ball as far as she could with Ron and Harry racing after the ball in attempt to catch it before the other.
Madame Hooch looked approvingly at their game, constantly looking over at them to watch. It was weird, Harry thought, to have an adult watching over them, concerned about their well-being. At least to him it was.
Hermione had done a particularly long throw and Ron had been just about to catch it. Then a pale hand, that was not Harry's, shot out and snatched it from the air. The pale hand belonged to an arm clothed in expensive robe, which was under the possession of one Draco Malfoy, the spoiled brat extraordinaire of the Slytherin House. Also, at the top of the 1st year Hierarchy, which really didn't matter to Harry. But the whining was a bit bothersome...
A sneer curved on the pureblood's face and Harry had a sickening replica of Dudley survey them with disgusted eyes. Hermione was hovering behind them, her wand in hand as she balanced carefully on her broom. He was already thinking of all the curses and hexes he could use on Malfoy.
"Brought your favorite toy to school, Weasel? Not scared you could lose it? After all, I bet your parents spent an entire fortune to purchase this for you and still be able to buy your food." Ron flushed red, his eyes flashing with anger and humiliation. Harry felt a surge of indignation on his friend's behalf.
Hermione spoke first. "Leave us, Malfoy. We were perfectly fine before and we don't need you spoiling it."
Harry sighed inwardly. Malfoy was nearly exactly like Dudley and that meant he would not leave them alone unless a figure of authority came to their aid; which Madame Hooch was on the other side of the field and helping another few students- that was not comforting.
So, he drew himself up and floated forward some, giving Malfoy a practiced glare, the same one Professor Snape threw at the Gryffindors who messed up their potions. "Just give us the ball, and there will be no trouble, Malfoy. Or would you like to know exactly what type of snake bit Rowle? From his experience, I wouldn't say it's very pleasant." It was really quite easy, with his... what was it called... legilimency, to give a few flicks into Malfoy's mind and insert a small amount of trepidation with each flick.
And apparently, that did not help. Malfoy wavered momentarily before steeling himself. "Since you want your ball so much, why don't you come get it?" Then he shot upwards, Harry not missing a beat shot afterwards, stopping to hover above Malfoy when they reached a height a bit farther than was most likely allowed.
Malfoy stared at him in disbelief before smirking. Then he dropped the ball.
He shot after it, pressing himself flat against his broom, drilling his eyes to the fast-paced yellow object. He interlocked his ankles, pushing his shoulders back slightly to bend his elbows some more.
Hermione's shrieks rang from behind him, Ron was pale in his side-vision, and Madame Hooch hadn't said a word, only watching. His brain replied that adults, even in the magical world, were unreliable. Harry, already knowing that, didn't reply, only focusing on the ball despite the (unneeded) commentary in the back of his head.
The ground was approaching, the green grass surrounding the yellow ball as it fell. Harry coaxed the old broom faster, desperately pressing himself down as adrenaline coursed through him with the wind, weightlessness, and freedom of flying persuaded his mind into thinking that this was probably one of the best experiences he'll ever have.
He stretched his arm out, fingers wiggling as though the ball would flying into his waiting grip. It didn't despite all hopes it would.
...5 metres...
His magic tingled softly and he pushed it into the broom. 'Faster,' he thought. The broom stuttered softly, before pushing him closer to the ball.
...3 metres...
He swallowed thickly, and with one last burst of magic, he shoved his broom forward, fingers brushing the ball.
...1 metre...
Harry twirled his broom, clutching his closed hands close to his chest as he desperately pressed himself against his broom. Breathless pants made his chest heave, and he blinked rapidly as the world began spinning when he opened his eyes.
His skin tickled as blades of grass brushed his eyebrows and his hair, in all it's gravity defying glory, did not hand upside down as it should bar a few rebellious strands. He sighed inwardly before flipping upright, unlocking his ankles from each other.
Standing carefully, his legs trembled as he stretched them to get the annoying not-sore-but-very-much-locked-feeling out of his legs.
"Harry Potter!" came a shrill cry, lathered with worry, and that was the only warning he got before bushy hair attacked him. He carefully, and silently, turned his head away as hair went into his mouth; arms wrapped around him tightly and Ron hovered behind Hermione, looking like he was trying to figure out what he should be feeling at the moment. Harry was inwardly grateful that he hadn't attached himself to Harry like Hermione had just done and was still doing in her very loud concern.
"Mr. Potter." The voice of Madame Hooch had Harry suddenly wishing that Ron had plastered himself to him. Anything to avoid the very calm (that was never a good thing) and pleasant sounding (double fuck) voice of his flying teacher. "Come with me please."
Hermione un-plastered herself and quieted down quickly. She shot him a worried look but stepped back, standing shoulder to mid-upper arm with Ron.
He turned around to face his teacher and followed her silently as she began walking. Madame Hooch made no talk which really didn't help his nerves.
Then Loki popped into his mind, the very same snake that was very much against flying.
The same snake stuck on a very high up branch in a tree, incredibly far from the dungeons let alone Slytherin Common Room.
Shit.
(-)
As it turned out, Madame Hooch was not angry with him. In fact it was the complete opposite. Which was really quite confusing to Harry, but he said nothing of the matter.
He was led to Professor Binn's classroom, the flying instructor not even asking the teacher if she could waive this part of the lesson, merely calling out to a student named Marcus Flint to come out of the classroom. A bulky 5th year with crooked teeth and a large figure, came out, looking vaguely annoyed but hiding it. Then they followed her down into the dungeons, where she knocked loudly against the door of Professor Snape. Harry couldn't even begin to attempt to stop his heart from leaping and beginning its tryouts for a 100 metre dash; he thought it had a very good chance of winning.
Professor Snape slammed his door open, scowling deeply and looking most displeased by the interruption. Madame Hooch looked completely okay with this and began a long-winded speech about Harry's flying skills and that he should be on the Quidditch Team as Seeker.
Harry's mind had come to a screeching halt at that.
But it seemed his opinion was not called for and it was not addressed, no matter how many times he tried to stutter a response. And it was really quite infuriating, but he knew that he should never interrupt adults from speaking, unless he wanted to end up with clipped hands or some other sort of punishment. So, he kept silent, settling on glaring at the arguing adults and an indignant but contemplative Flint, who seemed to think he didn't notice the sneaking glances that were passed at him.
He only tuned back into the conversation when Professor Snape gave a long, suffering, sigh and gave Madame Hooch a curt nod. Then he turned to Marcus Flint. "Let the boy join the Quidditch Tryouts on Saturday. If you deem him a suitable seeker than he may have the position, if not then stick with Higgs."
"Of course, sir." Flint turned to Harry, and he craned his neck up to be able to meet his eyes. "Be on the Quidditch Pitch at 07:00. I do not tolerate tardiness." He gave a respectful bow of his head to Professor Snape and Madame Hooch before striding away to his next class.
Harry shifted in his spot before letting his eyes flicker to Madame Hooch then to Professor Snape. "May I go back to the Pitch and finish my game with Ron and Hermione?" 2 hard stares fixed on him and his Head of House nodded.
He gave a small smile before darting off, hoping that he remembered the way and that he wasn't too late to get Loki from his tree.
When he told Ron what happened that evening in the Common Room, Harry rearranged his thoughts about Ron growing to be a jock. He was a Quidditch nerd with the impulse to attack (hug) you when he was bursting with excitement.
Though it all drained away to concern when Harry hadn't expressed that much excitement. Then anger when he was informed of the fact that Harry hadn't even been listened too, everybody ignoring him as though he hadn't a clue what he was talking about.
Hermione hadn't really been much better either.
(-)
Ron slid into the Charms classroom with 3 minutes to spare, even if he was the last Slytherin to make it to the classroom. He claimed his spot right next to Harry, who had claimed their little space in each classroom. Privately, he thought of Harry as a tiny dragon, which was actually quite accurate with how the small boy acted sometimes around them.
Hermione had been deemed a fire-breathing owl, which had earned him a glare when he'd said it in passing. Puffing up in indignation, she'd opened her mouth to refute his claim, but Ron had pointed out her reaction made it look like she had puffed out her feathers to scare of a predator. With cheeks red, Hermione muttered something about Ron being annoying, and snuggled her nose deeper into her fur-lined coat.
October was approaching quickly, and the air was becoming chilled, making all the students begin to pull out their winter gear.
One look at his hand-me-down winter clothing had Harry showing him how to sew (and wasn't it surprising to learn that Harry knew how) the frayed edges and thick pieces of fabric that Hermione had given him. Since the coat had been Charlie's, it was wider than it was longer, making it a bit short and hard to cover Ron. Hermione showed him a quick sizing charm and a color-changing charm since it was maroon and that was a color Ron hated.
Once they were done, Ron had a bronze coat with white threads, warm and comfy, and perfectly sized for him. Harry had given him a wide smile and told him it was amazing. Then he said it was a 'Ron Weasley Original'. His cheeks had flushed red, but he couldn't stop the smile or the warm feeling that had travelled through him. He really liked the way that sounded.
He'd worn the coat to Harry's Quidditch Tryouts, snuggled in its amazing warmth. Hermione had given him looks of amusement, but he ignored it in favor of watching Harry catch every single ball that Flint shot into the air. Harry looked like he was having fun, whooping every time he snagged the ball.
Afterwards, Harry was practically bursting with excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet with a carelessness that he'd never displayed before. And Ron wasn't exactly sure what he'd said but not even the moment the words left his mouth, he was being lunged at and arms were wrapping around him, giggles floating in the air around them.
Hermoine had been dragged down with them and the three of them had simply laid there, Harry giggling and rambling about something. The absolute joy he'd radiated had infected both Ron and Hermione, making all of them all smiles and laughter as they made their way to the library.
Ron hadn't really been sure what made Harry so deliriously happy to hug them like that, but he didn't complain because he'd always been kinda secretive in a way. Harry had loosened after that, giving smiles and laughs that weren't there before. They'd also learned that Harry was full of remarks and comebacks, but often held his tongue. Which was probably good because some of them were so filthy they would have made his mother blush for days on end.
A sharp stinging pain made him jerk, and Ron opened his mouth slightly only to feel a thick wave of magic hold him in place, turning his head to the board where Professor Flitwick was, who thankfully had his back turned so that he couldn't see the rage on Ron's face.
Only, when he turned to look at Harry, his anger melded into a light concern when he saw that Harry had a sickly flush on his face, and beats of sweat were gathering on his forehead.
A tired huff left Harry and green eyes darted to him. A smile curved on his lips. "You weren't paying attention and Flitwick was gonna start asking questions. Best pay attention." The explanation was said in a hushed, wavering, whisper, finished with an unsteady breathlessness as though that simple sentence took away all of Harry's breath.
And Ron tried to pay attention, but he kept getting distracted by Harry who was writing notes with trembling hands and seemed to start swaying in his spot after about 15 minutes.
Yeah, his best mate was not about to pass out. So, Ron thrust his hand in the air and waited about 3 seconds for the Professor to notice him before opening his mouth.
"Professor?"
The short man turned and gave him an inquiring look. "Mr. Wealsey, yes, do you have a question?"
He shook his head. "No sir. It's just that Harry isn't feeling too good, and I wanted to know if I could take him to the hospital wing?" Professor Flitwick looked at Harry and immediately, his face was filled with alarm.
"Mr. Potter! Oh dear, yes Mr. Weasley, I do believe it wise to take him to Madame Pomfrey. I will write a note for Professor McGonagall to expect that Mr. Potter will not be attending her class."
Ron nodded, packing his stuff easily and turning to Harry. He packed Harry's bag as well, before easing his friend up and out of the classroom, taking most of his weight.
The entire way, Ron was purposely jostling Harry sometimes to keep him awake, adjusting his position when the weight became too much, and stopping to let Harry rest, soft pants filling his ears.
When they finally got to the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey started at seeing them before ushering him to a bed, with Harry stumbling beside him. Laying him onto the bed gently, Ron bit his lip as he watched the Medi-Witch wave her wand over him. She muttered multiple spells, apparently forgetting that Ron was even there. Not that he was upset by it. No, he was glad that he could continue watching over his best friend, after seeing how despondent (Hermione was rubbing off on him with her big words) he had been after his check-up with her.
The Medi-Witch looked up and started at seeing him. "Mr. Weasley, what are you still doing here? - Well, never mind, it's a good thing you're still here either way. Mr. Potter seems simply be magically drained, possibly from not getting enough sleep or doing a rather powerful spell and not being prepared for it. In any case, I will write a slip for your Head of House that he will be spending the night in the Hospital Wing and is clear to go to classes tomorrow. You may head back to your classes. It is a good thing you spotted this. Thank you, Mr. Weasley." She scribbled something before handing him a slip of parchment that he shoved into his pocket.
He nodded, giving a quick, "You're welcome, Madame Pomfrey." before slipping out of the Hospital Wing, leaving Harry's bag next to him.
Ron ambled around the empty halls, procrastinating for the rest of the remaining time for Charms Class. He slid into an empty alcove when students began filing out of the classroom. The charms classroom wasn't far, Hermione was already on her way to Transfiguration and that was 2 floors down.
He peaked out of the alcove only to stare at the swamped halls, wondering if there were any backways that the older Slytherins had shown them. Sucking up all the courage he didn't have, he darted out, frantically dodging all the students.
His eyes landed on a tapestry with a battle scene, and he grinned. That was where the corridor was. He pressed himself to the wall when a 7th year came barreling through the hall, shouting randoms curses and apologies. Using the distraction, Ron slipped behind the tapestry and slinked into the corridor. It was dark and quiet, the only sound the muffled chaos on the other side of the tapestry.
Ruffling his hair from his eyes, Ron walked through the empty hall, squeezing himself together at the feeling of anxiety that was spreading across his chest; his heart thudded at the foreboding sensation and his wand slipped into his hand, his mind compiling a full list of hexes he could use.
Soft rustling noises and shuffling met his ears and he froze, darting to the other wall where he was out of sight.
"when to do it though?-"
"Halloween- the mudblood won't be- better timing-"
"-feast is 2 hours-"
"Potter and Weasley though- always with her- when exac-"
A howl filled the room, a brief light flashing in Ron's eyes. He crouched and leaned back slightly. He refused to breath, his lungs aching for breath; about 10 more seconds before he had to breathe again. He turned his head to catch the voices again.
"don't question- i have it covered- just do-"
"the spell- what is it-"
"-old fire spell- Rowle library- burns hard-"
"course- fire affinity run deep in that family-"
Ron turned and quickly made his way back to the Tapestry. Rowle, the idiot that had attacked Harry, was planning something or at least helping to do something to Hermione.
Biting his lip, he slid into the Hall that wasn't nearly as full as it was before. He sped to Transfiguration, thinking about how he could help protect his friend, possibly Harry if the green-eyed boy decided to do something about it early.
The main thing was figuring out exactly how and when they were going to strike.
(-)
Harry smiled when he got close to Hagrid's hut, his feet stumbling over the protruding rocks and sticks of the ground. Hermione looked vaguely unsettled and Ron didn't seem too enthused at the thought of meeting Hagrid. Which, to be fair, Harry could understand
He wasn't exactly excited about visiting the giant man, but he was sure that he needed to maintain an image with him. Especially since Hagrid seemed to be right in Dumbledore's pocket, meaning he would likely crow about Harry to the bearded man. So Harry decided that it would be for the best to visit Hagrid and make sure that he kept his image as good as it could be.
Stopped at the large wooden door, he gave 3 quick knocks and took a large step back at the howls that filled the hut and the very loud scratches that scraped against the wood. Clatters from what sounded like multiple pots and pans sounded accompanied that frantic scrambling noises.
The door swung open to reveal Hagrid and he smiled widely, before closing the door slightly. "Heya 'arry! Hang on righ' quick- Back fang, back – sorry 'arry. Jus' one secon' – Back Fang!"
The door opened fully, and Harry walked in easily despite the shock and horror coming from Ron and Hermione. froze at the sight of a rather large boarhound, a large black dog, being held back by Hagrid from a raggedy looking brown collar.
The three Slytherins seemed to come to the conclusion that if Hagrid, who was the largest man at Hogwarts, had trouble holding the dog, then it would easily hurt them if the canine decided to attack them.
In Harry's opinion, the hut was really quite cozy looking. Meats were hung from the wall by a small kitchen area, a pot of water boiling over a little fireplace which had a large dog bed directly next to it; in the very back corner there was a massive wooden bed frame with a thick mattress covered in a patchwork quilt. Chew toys the size of Harry's head or torso littered the area around the bed, both human and dog.
Hagrid grinned at them, spreading his arms out which means he let go of Fang to Ron's eternal horror. "Make yer'selves at home!" Ron let out a screech Harry hadn't realized he could make all which scrambling for the couch.
Fang seemed to take interest in the sound and noise, barking in excitement at Ron which seemed to make the redhead move even faster.
Harry laughed silently before whistling softly, giving a quick click on the top of his mouth with his tongue. "Here boy." Fang perked at the call before dashing over and pouncing on Harry. A wet tongue slobbered over Harry, licking his face and hair. Giggles erupting from Harry before he could stop them and that seemed to encourage the boarhound as he fought to wiggle himself from under the giant dog.
Hermione came up next to him and ushered the dog off Harry, allowing him to wipe all the slobber off himself while she stroked the dog softly. Ron was staring pale-faced, his feet tucked securely under him as though Fang would grab them and yank him from the couch. Which Fang most likely could do but Harry said nothing of the matter.
Sitting upright, Harry plopped himself down next to Ron, who gave him a wobbly smile before his eyes darted back to Fang. It seemed Ron didn't really like Fang all that much.
Fang sat himself at Harry's feet, content to just curl up around them. Harry smiled at Hagrid as he approached them with a plate of cakes and a kettle of tea. "Thank you for having us, Hagrid. I hope it's okay I brought Hermione and Ron with me."
The giant assured him that he was "delight'd to meet little 'arry's friends" and that "..he hopes he'll bring 'em 'round everytime 'e visits." Hagrid stared at Ron for a few moments and their green and silver, probably knowing his parents and that Ron had a very Gryffindor family but said nothing of the matter. His cakes were rather hard, most likely breaking Harry's teeth before he managed to take a bite of them.
Hagrid had laughed and told them to soak their cakes in the tea which softened them. Once they were soft, they tasted rather good. Harry made a mental note to get the recipe from Hagrid to make for the Dursley's. They'd gobble them up with vigor and Harry wanted to see their faces if they ever found out that the recipe came from the giant of a man who'd given Dudley a pig tail. He could practically taste the horror that would come from them.
Hermione launched into a long tangent about their classes and everything that they were learning, and just how unfair and despicably Slytherins were treated, while Ron was tentatively scratching Fang after a touch of 'he's very nice and soft' and 'no Ron, he won't bite your hand off' from Harry. The redhead kept his arm and hand out of snapping reach despite Harry's reassurance but stroked the back of Fang's head and neck with growing confidence so Harry counted that as a win.
Sometime after this, while Hermione and Ron were telling him about some weird encounter with the Prefects of the Slytherin House, Harry caught his attention on a newspaper – the Daily Prophet, the very top says – on a little square coffee table. It was stained on the edges from coffee most likely, but what caught his attention wasn't the stain. It was the title.
'Gringott's Break-In Latest.'
His interest sufficiently perked; Harry twisted the newspaper slightly so that he could read it. From what he was told, only a real fool would attempt to steal from Gringotts and risk his life, for whatever he was trying to steal. Listening to Hermione's excited chatter with only half his attention, Harry scanned the top portion of the article.
'Investigations continue pertaining the break-in at Gringotts, the local Wizarding bank of Diagon Alley, that was conducted on 31 July. It is widely believed to be the work of Dark Wizards or Witches unknown but the Aurors. Gringotts goblins continue to insist that nothing had been taking; The vault that was searched, the number cannot be disclosed for security reasons, had in fact been emptied that very same day.
"But we are not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out of it if you know what it good for you," says a Gringott's spokes-goblin from this afternoon.'
Harry frowned, concluding that the break-in had to be tried on vault 713. The same vault that he and Hagrid had gone too after they had visited his vault. The small, paper wrapped package that Hagrid had picked up, must've been worth more than Harry had thought if someone had attempted a robbery for it. It was barely more than 7 centimetres which means that it must have been something of a high enough value for someone to risk death for.
Glancing at the article one more time, Harry made a solid decision.
Whatever that package was,
It was none of his business.
On the way back, Hermione was talking about how good a listener Hagrid was when he was listening to her endless speech about assignments and how prejudiced Professors were against Slytherins. (Hagrid had tried to refute the knowledge saying that Professor Snape was just as biased only for all of them to laugh and describe a good detention with him; which meant scrubbing first year cauldrons that had endless amounts of mistakes in them or dissecting slimy and pus protruding animals and plants- Hagrid had nothing to say after that.)
Ron, however, was more stuck on how large Fang was, including how threatening he could be. "Do you think I could take a weapon next time we go to Hagrid's?"
Harry stared and Hermoine immediately began her chastisement in all her 12-year-old knowledge. Ron became indignant rather easily which led to him raising his voice to match her scolding's that were spoken in a superior tone. Ron was becoming redder and redder in anger and embarrassment with each word that was spoken, from both him and her, and Harry knew that he was going to have to say something to keep them from escalating into a rather serious fight.
"No Ron, you cannot take a weapon with you to Hagrid's because of Fang-" Harry made sure to keep his voice even, though he did shoot a light glare at the redhead. "Besides you have your wand... And you know, you have me too. I'm not going to let you get attacked without trying to prevent it first."
Ron stopped and stared at him for a few moments before nodding slowly. He threw his arm around Harry's shoulders and ruffled his hair softly. "Right.. yeah I know that."
A few beats of silence passed.
"But still- do you think I could take a non-magical swinging stick with me? Fang's teeth are rather sharp... and so are his claws come to think of it.."
"Ron!"
"What?! It's a reasonable question!"
Harry burst out laughing, taking both Hermione and Ron by surprise.
xXXxXXxXXx
Arthur Weasley loved his family.
He loved his 6 sons and single daughter, despite anything that they may do.
His eldest Bill, he was so proud of for having the rare gift of magic sight, making his job as a curse-breaker perfect for him. His long hair that he refused to cut didn't bother him or the multiple tattoos and piercing that annoyed his wife to no end.
Charlie was making easy work of at the Dragon Reserve and Arthur was so very proud of him having the courage and strength to work with the dragons that his son would coo over in all his letters. The eggs, the hatchlings, the females, the bulls, that were all under his care, he knew that Charlie cared for them all despite the many burns he could and did receive.
Percy, despite his arrogant attitude, was loved as well by Arthur and he was proud of his sons' grades and successes all of which are helping him to achieve his goal of working in the Ministry. The thought made him giddy, going to work every day alongside his son even if they worked in different departments. To see his son, thrive in his element made pride burst in his chest.
The twins. Oh, his wonderfully troublesome prankster twins, that were absolute geniuses when it came to their innovations and ideas. He saw through the pranking and saw the sheer skill that they displayed when their pranks went off. He supported them though his wife was not very appreciative of some of the outcomes of certain pranks which he could understand.
Ron, his youngest son, was a silent type of trouble he thought. He had a mind carved out for strategy and planning, despite his ballistic temper, he was a savant at chess, always cool and collected, laying down subtle ways to make you doubt your plans. It was how he'd gotten into a multiple chess matches in the muggle world that Arthur had signed him up for to help his gift in chess. (He cherished those few precious moments alone with his son afterwards when they got a treat at Fortescue's)
Ginny was vivacious with a temper and a thirst for life. He saw that with the way she would narrow her eyes, throw her long hair over her shoulder, and challenge her brothers to a match of Quidditch. She threw herself into wrestling matches in the mud, clawing for the respect and fear of her brothers.
Arthur truly loved his children and his family, despite all their flaws and their acting outs.
So, when he got a simple letter from his Ron a few days after they'd sent him off on the train, the contents forced him to sit down in a chair.
His son, his 6th son with a polished mind for chess, was in Slytherin.
Arthur found that he could not care less.
He'd told his son right before he went to work, on September 1st, that he didn't care what house he got sorted into and he was going to stand by that promise. So, what if his son was in Slytherin? His mother, Cedrella Black, was in Slytherin and she was the possibly the kindest woman he knew despite all her ruthlessness and cunning. His father, Septimus, was a Gryffindor but Arthur knew that he could've been in Slytherin with all his ambition only triumphed for his love of family.
He hadn't been able to write all of this into his letter, but he made a note every day to himself to talk with Ron about his Sorting when he got home; the letter he sent didn't at all capture just how proud of his son he was.
Molly though, he knew that she was going to take a bit more to convince. She had made a soft nose of laughter at the letter Ron had sent, stating that there was no possible way that was true and that it was simply a little joke. Only for a confirmation to come with the twins' letter and Percy's letter. His wife had stared and stared some more before finally announcing, "I did not raise him to be Slytherin."
That had caused an immediate defense from Arthur which escalated to an intense fight over the Slytherin House and what it meant that their son was in that house. Arthur planted himself firmly on Ron's side, stating that there was nothing wrong with being ambitious and cunning, that none of it meant that Ron was dark.
His wife growled and said that he could be all of those things from the Gryffindor House. He'd quickly gotten fed up with his wife, which normally didn't happen, but she was driving him up the wall- so he'd invoked all the Weasley Family magic and said nothing more of the matter, only that as the Head of the House, Ron wasn't going to get a re-sort unless Arthur agreed to it and his son wanted it.
Molly had soured at that, taking Ginny with her to the Leaky Cauldron for a full 2 weeks. Arthur didn't beg for her to come back, not backing down on his stance on this matter. His wife meant a lot to him, but his children were invaluable, and he loved them wholly and fully. He went to work every day, occasionally seeing Lucius Malfoy giving him a look when he thought Arthur couldn't see him. His son had most likely sent him a letter about Ron being in Slytherin.
He received daily letters from his children, bar Ron, who sent the occasional slip of paper with a bit of news but nothing much as though he wasn't sure whether or not his letters would be well received. So, when Arthur should have been working, he wrote a long 2 piece of parchment letter for his son and scraped up a little money to use a post-owl so that Ron would get it as soon as possible.
It had been nearly a week since then, so he was unsure of whether it had been received or not, but he sincerely hoped that his son understood that he still loved him.
(-)
Ron stared at the letter in front of him, a long letter that came a full week before Halloween. Anxiety gnawed away at him, and he picked up the letter with shaky hands. His mum and dad must've been angry if it took them this long to write a letter to him. Maybe he shouldn't have sent all those little snippets for them.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the letter.
And just about burst into tears 2 sentences in.
Dear Ron,
I never did get to say how proud I am of you in my last letter. So, I'm going to say it now.
I am proud of you. I am so very proud of you.
My last letter was horribly hasty and bland and I'm sorry for that.
Your house, the house of Serpents, ambition, cunning, doesn't change that you are my son and that I still raised you. All it means is that you have a silver and green tie, and that's okay. You know that Nana was in Slytherin, and she was amazing, wasn't she? And if your brothers are Gryffindors and you aren't, what difference does it make? They're still your siblings despite all things. But if they give you any trouble over it, you let me know and I'll set them straight. I won't tolerate any 'House Rivalry' between my children.
I want letter, you know. I want letters about everything you can think of. You can even send me a letter solely about the wood grains on the tables there and I'll still love it. So write me, tell me what your House is like, how the fabled Slytherin Common Room looks (Are there snakes everywhere with lots of chandeliers like the rumors in my time said?), do your dorm rooms make you share or do you have individual rooms? Tell me everything!
How are you being treated? Are you making friends with the students? I was told by Fred and Goerge that there is a muggleborn that was sorted into Slytherin. Is that true? I hope that she's being treated well and perhaps you'll find a good friend in her...]
Ron continued to run his fingers through the parchment, forcing himself to focus on the floaty letters. His father had written him 2 full sheets of parchment. He was going to read it without any help because that's what his father deserved if he spent this much time writing to him.
By the time he was done, he'd spent a good 30 minutes reading and re-reading but he couldn't care less. Not when the bottom of the letter, made his heart turn to mush and his eyes prickle suspiciously.
Never forget how proud I am of you.
I love you kiddo. So so much.
A proud father
Sniffling, he rubbed his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. He rolled up the parchment carefully and placed it into his bag slowly so that it wasn't creased or crumpled by his supplies.
As he went through the very last of his classes, Harry and Hermione had given him looks as he smiled throughout the entire classes, not even frustrated at the moving letters trying to keep him from being able to read his textbooks.
His father was proud of him and loved him. That's all that mattered really.
Author's Notes - This is like the 3rd rewrite of this chapter, so I hope that you guys are fucking pleased with it- I edited the shit out of this chapter just for you guys so that the chapter wouldn't be terribly fast-paced as it was the first time that I wrote it out.
It's a bit shorter than it was going to be because the troll incident wasssss going to come at the end but I cut it off because yeh- that's too much right now. Ummm so the next chapter will be the troll incident and the aftermath for like 2 weeks after but thats it- it'll be a slightly shorter chapter next time so like just a warning...
ARTHUR IS A GOOD DAD! So, like I REALLYYYYYY LOVE Arthur Weasley in the books because he is just amazing and like he didn't deserve to be with Molly Weasley when he is actually such a good fucking character! (And I speak about the books- movies are like complete trash-) So like yessss, Arthur is going to be amazing because his mom was a both a Slytherin and Black! Two things said to be eternally dark and you cannot tell me that Arthur was not exposed to Dark Magic when he was younger because of his mother! And his father, was a Gryffindor who married a witch from a deeply Dark family, so he knew exactly the kind of magic she knew and practiced! So like yeh, Arthur is amazing in my books- I will fight you if you say otherwise.
School has started and I'm going to become increasingly busy but never fear! I shall not abandon you and my stories will be finished...
This story is easily my favorite one that I've published- idk why but it just issss. Cause like I find myself often in the drafts for this story than any of my other, published and not- because this story is absolutely amazing for me and I loooovvvvveeee it sooo much! but i think you guys play a big part in it because I love seeing your comments and kudos! It makes me feel reallyreallyreally good knowing that you guys enjoy reading what i write! So thank you to all of you for that! 3
I've published another story - Love and Family - which is more just something fun for me to write to release some stress ig- but if you guys like it i might invest some time into it... i know i'm just writing and not updating a lot but im a bit stressed out and have writers block when it comes to certain parts of the chapters and stories and my computer doesn't fucking save the things i've written and i lose about 2,000 words and then i just can't find the motivation to fucking rewrite it- i know it's not fair to you guys, but it really affects me when i have to rewrite the shit because sometimes the motivation just leaves me...
if you guys have any ideas, suggestions, or catch any inconsistencies that i make, please let me know! If something doesn't sound good, tell me that as well because i want to make my story as reasonable as possible without making it seem... to... impassive because then it's just bland and flavorless.
I hope you have a good day/evening/night!