11 – Who Needs it!
Author's Note: Disclaimer here, no money, no own, no character, 'sept Adamantia. I must apologise for not posting ANYTHING for ages. I have chronic genetic lung disease and have been having a horribly bad year (winter, even in Oz, is not kind to emphysema patients). I also saw that many readers have put me into their Favourite Story list and for that I really do thank you. Helps keep me going through the rough times.
Regards,
Les
oo0oo
Harry was furious! No, he was furious, and with good reason! How dare they! Was his magic not good enough? Was he an inferior being or was he no good at casting in tandem with people? Storming into his bedroom, he slammed the door and flung himself onto the bed in a fine old temper. Who needed all this aggravation…
He'd been rather excited this week, the preparations for the big Roof Renewal Day going off quite smoothly, well… sort of smoothly. Ron had approached each of his brothers and his father about getting help to reroof the cottage. Ron had also contacted some of his Auror mates and ex-school mates about joining the party, making it a huge bash - part reunion, part working bee, part piss-up. Or at least that's what he said to Hermione which made her indignantly whack him with the tea-towel again.
Getting into the mood of the party, Harry had run around doing various chores for Hermione, expanding her kitchen so that the house-elves from Snape could work comfortably and enhancing the garden beds so Hermione's brown thumb would not be evident to the critical eyes of aunts and mother-in-laws. As a special assistance, Harry had even cleaned the whole house from top to bottom with a mix of magical and muggle techniques which left Hermione speechless.
Yesterday he had conjured up tables and chairs, doubling the number their family and friends had delivered so there would be more than enough seating for the expected crowd, same with crockery, cutlery and napery. Everything matched and was all sparkling new. It looked really spectacular on the tables scattered around the lawn. When Harry brought Hermione out to see what he had done, she had blown a gasket. He still wasn't sure why. She had bellowed at him to stop interfering with things and to keep his magic to himself unless asked to help. She'd gone on and on until Harry shrank down into small form and then she had gone psycho-broad on his arse about using his cat form to escape from any sense of responsibility he might have managed to dredge up from anywhere.
Ron had come in from work at the climax of the tirade and sort of swung her aside into a spectacular dip, smothered her in a huge pash while motioning with his freehand behind his back for Harry to skedaddle. Harry had bolted for the stairs but had to become human to get into his room, which really blistered his temper. Slamming the door, he had turned cat and flung himself up onto the window-sill to fume in peace without having the urge to shred the bedspread or the mat.
It had taken Harry three goes to become human enough to get out of his room again once he cooled off sufficiently to smother his own temper and tamp it down into a small corner of his mind. Occlumency turned out to be very useful for some things he decided as he crept downstairs and peered into the kitchen. Fortunately Ron was there by himself with a bottle of butterbeer in front of him and another already levitating over to the place opposite him when he spied Harry at the door.
"I don't know what you did to set her off, Mate, but it must have been pretty fantastic," Ron commented, sliding the bottle over and wafting a plate of sandwiches down between them. "I had to wheedle the house-elves for these as Hermione was not going to stick around and feed us. So, what happened?"
Harry sank down into the chair and grabbed a sandwich, grinning when he discovered it had egg and tuna filling, his second favourite sandwich and first favourite when having to stay human. Merlin bless house-elves! "I don't know," Harry said. "I only brought her out to see the tables and stuff in the garden and she went psycho on me."
Ron swivelled on his tailbone to peer out the window, then shrugged. "Looks okay to me. Maybe she is having a… you know… a girl's thing."
Harry blinked, then grinned. "For a man who has been married for how long and has how many children, that's pretty sad, you know?" he teased gently.
Ron grimaced and tossed the butterbeer cap at him. "See how you go when you have to deal with the problem in your own time," he remarked as the two companions set out to devour the sandwiches.
oo0oo
First to arrive the next morning was Molly and Arthur, with Molly depositing a huge cake on the kitchen bench before browsing through the pots on the stove with a sniff here and a taste there. "Needs more Thyme in the lamb ragout," she commented, spoon in hand.
"No, I think you are wrong; needs more salt," said another voice in an equally decided tone coming from Augusta Longbottom, her new hat with its collection of fruit, flowers and bird wings even bigger and more imposing than the moth-eaten vulture of old. More colourful too, Hermione noted in surreal disbelief as the old witches went at it like two five-year-olds.
Huffing angrily, Hermione called Torim, the supervising Snape elf and directed him in a pointed tone to make sure that no one, "and I mean NO ONE interferes with any of the dishes, in any way!"
The two old witches stopped their argument to glare at the younger upstart before turning back to begin their loud and acrimonious discussion of the 'Younger Generation' and their complete lack of respect for their elders. Shaking her head in disbelief, Hermione vacated the vicinity, leaving them to it.
Outside, the Weasley clan was beginning to mass, brothers and wives, sister and husband. Hermione greeted her fellow sisters-in-law with a deep sigh, nodding to Neville and Susan Longbottom, the only other outsiders invited to participate in the roof proofing. Harry was there too, along with the hoard of kids, but wasn't an outsider per se.
Bill grinned as his mother appeared from the kitchen, obviously having enjoyed her 'discussions' with the Longbottom Matriarch and was now ready to participate in the main reason for the gathering. As a ward breaker, Bill was the logical choice to guide the warding ceremony and he took his duties fairly seriously.
"Alright everyone, settle down. Okay, we're going to safeguard a physical area, that being the roof, so we need to use landmarks. I'm going to use the main compass points…"
"…As usual…"
"…oh wise and mysterious…"
"Shut up, you two!"
"…Certainly…"
"…oh wise and all-knowing…"
"…wife and…"
"Boys!"
Everyone shut up immediately at Molly's firm command.
"Thanks, Mum." Bill nodded and continued. "I'll take north, Dad south, the twins east and west. Mum will support me; Ginny will support Dad. Charlie, you're teamed with Fred and Percy, you're teamed with George. Fleur, you're on my left, Angelina on my right, Ben on Dad's left and Penny on Dad's right. The rest of you make a loose outer circle as you aren't immediate family but you can supply extra power, if we need it," he added glancing around, missing the quick flash of hurt colouring Harry's expression before Harry hid it away. "Ron, get on your broom and go up to the apex of the roof, you're the focal point. Hermione, you go inside and move directly under the centre of the roof, you are the anchor point there. Send a patronus when you're ready. Each of you has been prepped and you all know your lines so no stumbling, no forgetting. Just hold it steady and let the magic flow through you, okay? You keep the kids under control as we don't want any of them disturbing us once we start."
Harry looked at Susan Longbottom but she was hurrying off to add her wand to the loose circle of friends, leaving her children with Teddy and Victorie who were playing in the sand box. As he rose to join the outer circle, Augusta Longbottom, shooed him off toward the children with an impatient hand. For a moment Harry froze then bit his lip. How dare they! He was perhaps the strongest magical talent in the yard and yet he was sent off to mind the children like a naughty little boy. He was absolutely furious!
By the end of the long, long day, Harry's hot anger had turned cold and hard. Again and again, he had been marginalised and sent off to play like a small, annoying child. Even Ron, firewhiskey in hand, had told him 'no' very sharply when he went to pour his own glass of spirits. Blinking in shock, Harry cradled his stinging hand when even the age spell on the liqueur cabinet stung him. He zapped the cabinet door in retaliation, utterly destroying it and the lock. Harry's outburst had caused cries of consternation and angry recriminations from Hermione and Molly as they hurriedly sent him off, 'out of the house' before he could cause any more chaos!
Angry and hurt, Harry had run off to the large oak tree by the back fence and was about to climb it when he bumped into Bill who was supervising his daughter as she tried out her training wand.
"Hello Harry, how are you enjoying the party?" Bill asked, absently.
"Humph! Some party!" Harry grumbled bitterly. "Tell me, Bill, why didn't you let me take part in the warding this morning? I am the strongest magical talent here, you know?"
Bill opened his mouth but a stringent voice from behind overrode him.
"Because your magic is uncontrolled!" Hermione vented. "Honestly, Harry, everything you do is like a troll in a potions cupboard! When a pinprick of power is needed, you go at it like a hippogriff trying to do needlepoint! When something big needs to be done, then you are the perfect candidate, a blunt instrument, but when something small and delicate needs doing, it's best to keep you right out of the way! Just look at my antique 18th Century Gentleman's armoire if you want proof!"
"Well, maybe you should stop treating me like a bloody nuisance all the time. Or maybe I should just go back to Hogwarts and do it all again, then you wouldn't have to put up with my trollish behaviour, would you?" Harry yelled furiously.
"Hah, you would never have been able to complete Hogwarts without me doing all your research, now would you?" Hermione screamed back. "Oh, I forgot, you DIDN'T complete Hogwarts, you were too busy being a cat!"
"Better than being a complete bitch, isn't it?" Harry snarled furiously.
The crack echoed over the back yard, making silence fall and heads turn in surprise. Hermione's eyes widened and she covered her mouth as Harry touched his rapidly reddening cheek. "Oh, Harry, I'm…"
"Oh, don't apologise! It just sort of puts the full stop on the whole fortnight I've been here. I am sick to death of you trying to bully me into some mould you feel I should fit into; don't be a cat, don't be an adult, don't help me, don't do anything, just… Just what, Hermione? Just stand in the corner and be decorative? I can do that anywhere. Maybe I should be a muggle and do something at a Muggle University, instead of trying…"
"Don't be so melodramatic! You couldn't even function in the Muggle world now, with your lack of brai… education," she finished on a slightly more diplomatic note when she realised the breeze around them was not exactly natural.
"Say what you mean, Granger. You meant brains. You think I'm too stupid to do anything without your hand up the back of my jumper like a bloody glove puppet, is that it?"
"If the shoe fits…"
"Well, screw you and the horse you rode in on! Who needs this shit, anyway?" Harry spun on his toes and disapparated with a crack loud enough to cause a sonic boom in the slightly horrified silence that had engulfed the house and grounds.
"God damn it!" Hermione snarled, whipping around and stomping off. After only a few steps her stride faltered and she staggered, then crumpled to the grass in a small, huddled heap.
oo0oo
Dashing the tears from his eyes, Harry stumbled over a tussock of grass and fetched up against a broken park bench. Flopping onto the splintery wooden seat, he put his head in his hands and cried. What the hell had just happened? Hermione had never hit him before. She had always treated him with a modicum of respect. While she knew he was not as bright as her, she was aware that he wasn't stupid. But lately, she had just been intolerable. And it wasn't just with him. He and Ron had discussed her shortening patience and quick temper over butterbeers the evening before and neither had managed to find a rational explanation for her behaviour, but this…
Sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve, he drew a shuddery breath and looked around. Giving a watery chuckle he realised he had unconsciously sought out the place he had always fled to if he wanted to be alone.
The park was definitely dilapidated, the equipment rusted and broken. A forlorn swing was held up by one chain and the rusting hulk of the banana slide made a gaunt silhouette against the darkening sky. Even the grass was tired, dead and brown in places, dusty and non-existent in others. Of all the sickly trees and grass, only the weeds seemed to flourish, the dandelions quite bright against the grey uniformity of the broken concrete path. Even the bench he sat on was sadly abandoned, two slats missing so if he wasn't careful, his skinny arse slipped right down the gap. That made him laugh, albeit only a small watery humph of amusement, but at least it was something. Standing up, he surveyed the sad tangle of the jungle gym, the ropes rotted away; the metalwork covered in peeling paint and splintered plastic.
"You look like I feel," he remarked softly into the twilight, "tattered and worn out; long past your use-by date."
Wandering over to the swing set, he grasped the chain and ruefully looked down at the perished rubber seat. He had spent ages sitting on this swing when he was young, rocking and twirling, whiling away the time before he had to be home, enjoying the freedom of his thoughts before Dudders found him or his curfew was up. He would have really liked to have experienced the swing euphoria again he decided, then sighed dejectedly as his magic, always ready to his will, flowed out and wrapped round the whole swing set. Metal groaned and straightened, rubber reconstituted and chain rebraided, paint refreshed to a brand new gleam and old concrete reset itself, holding the refurbished legs of the frame firmly into the ground. The swings looked like new, better than new, as it hadn't been for thirty years.
Shaking his head, Harry sat on the nearest swing and pushed off with one trainer. 'Was Hermione right? Was his magic uncontrolled and dangerous? Was he as bad as a Troll in a Potions Shop when he tried to do something?' Pumping hard, he tried to launch himself up into the star-spangled darkness, wishing he could fly without a broom but knowing he could not. Angry and needing to do something, his magic flew out and blanketed the whole park, burrowing into the ground, wrapping around the monkey bars and entwining through the banana-slide. It danced over the paint work, ran up and down the chains and swirled giddily on the roundabout until it bounced off the see-saw and ran madly down the concrete walkways. Wherever his magic touched, it refurbished, refreshed, and rejuvenated until even the sickly saplings blossomed into healthy young trees, casting welcome shade over the suddenly thick layer of velvety grass that now covered the dirt. The last few trickles of the ebbing magic made the flowers in the sagging beds grow lush and heavy with blossoms before it finally dissipated with a faint chime, leaving Harry tired but satisfied as he allowed the swing to slowly wind down to a stop before stumbling off.
Exhausted by the emotional upheavals of the day and his unwitting outpouring of raw magic, he slumped down on the newly refurbished and revarnished park bench, drew his robes over his legs and the hood of his cloak over his face. Softly he began to snore without realising he had made the transition from wakefulness to sleep.
oo0oo
Ron paced back and forward in the corridor outside the emergency room at St Mungo's. As soon as Harry Disapparated so noisily, the stasis that had held everyone also dissipated. Ron let out a bellow of fright as he bolted over to Hermione's crumpled form. Ben, his brother-in-law, was almost as quick and stopped Ron moving his unconscious wife before Ben could carry out a cursory examination.
Arthur had held his youngest son while the older sons conjured up a stretcher, called St Mungo's, the twins grasped the stretcher handles, and disapparated in perfect synchronisation to appear in the foyer of the hospital with their unconscious sister-in-law. The rest of the Weasley clan soon followed, leaving the Longbottom Matriarch in charge of the children.
As soon as the healers heard about the argument and Harry's temper tantrum, they called in the experts from Spell Damage and Dark Curses to go over Hermione with a fine toothed comb looking to find what the Boy-Who-Lived had done to his best friend. Although angry, Ron insisted that Harry would never hurt Hermione no matter what, but Ron was quickly over ridden by his concerned mother and the healers were given free rein to make their tests. Before anyone could draw a deep breath, a couple of aurors stormed onto the scene demanding to know what dark curses the new Dark Lord had cast, where had he last been seen, and how long had they known that Harry Potter was going dark?
Then the press descended enmass, Quick Quotes Quills quivering at the ready to record all the gossip and slurs they could, making the innuendoes up if they couldn't quite hear what was said. Finally, in a roar of pure fury, Ron bellowed at the top of his lungs with a Sonorus in place, his anger palpable and his face as red as his robes.
"I don't know what the Hell you are all on but you can just stop right there and shut up!" He snarled. "Harry Potter, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, has not gone dark in any shape or form! On the contrary, he is so light that he could rival Albus Dumbledore in power and ability. Secondly, my wife, Hermione Weasley, has been the best friend of Harry Potter's since they were eleven years old, as have I. Harry did not curse Hermione, he did not attack Hermione, in fact he did nothing to Hermione. He simply disapparated from our backyard after staying with us for the past two weeks. My wife, Hermione Weasley, has been ill for the past week and the pressure of the party we were holding has exhausted her. Arguing with first my mother, then Augusta Longbottom didn't help. Acting as the anchor for our new roofing spells and finally hosting the party simply exhausted her completely. There is no conspiracy, no going dark, not even a decent brawl, just a small disagreement between friends, one of the many hundreds we, all three of us, have participated in over the years. Now, if Harry and I see even a hint of anything untoward in any of your papers, reports or anything else that in any way starts unfounded and cruel rumours about Harry, me or Hermione, I will be coming to find whoever started it and I'll be bringing reinforcements with me. Harry and Hermione will certainly not allow me to sue your arses on my own, I assure you! Now bugger off, the lot of you! This is a hospital!" Ron started to remove the Sonorus with a deep sigh as a small, timid mediwitch tugged on his robe and looked up nervously. "What is it?" he demanded impatiently.
"It's your wife, Sir, she's pregnant…"
"Pregnant?" Ron asked, imitating a landed fish, not even realising the Sonorus was still, in fact, active.
The sheepish exodus of press and aurors stopped dead in their tracks and their ears perked up in sudden interest.
"Yes, Sir, er, but there is a problem… Healer Hartley wants a word with you."