Leaving this with that last message, I think, left the idea in the minds of many that I had abandoned this in a sizeable hissy fit, which is indeed not the case. I am in my senior year at school and (in Australia, where I am) it is pretty intense all year long (we don't just have one big exam at the end of the year, we have tests throughout each term which contribute to our overall marks and thus which universities we can apply for). So I have been working, not sulking. I do quite like this story, and so I've been chipping away in my spare time to get another chapter ready. I hope you like it :)
The morning passed into a sunny afternoon with no further news, leaving almost painful waiting in its place. Hollow words of hope were repeated every half hour or so, encouraging optimism since Mr Weasley's negotiations to interfere with the Dursley house had clearly not been bumped back immediately. The hours trickled by, a horrible feeling of anticipation hovering in the air of the kitchen where the Weasley clan remained assembled. Mrs Weasley had been bustling about ever since Bill had arrived, preparing everything that Harry could possibly need upon his arrival. When she had hesitantly removed her magical healing kit from its place in the laundry and placed it instead in the kitchen where it could be easily reached, a shivery sense of reality crawled up everyone's spines, the small box soundly grounding in everyone's minds the very real possibility of Harry coming back to them at least a little bit broken. Mrs Weasley next moved on to baking a treacle tart, the familiar sweet aroma of the baking pastry filling the kitchen; it was a scent that reminded Hermione so acutely of her best friend, that she felt the immediate compulsion to get away.
'Ron? Do you want to go out into the orchard for a bit?' She asked quietly, loathe to break the solemn silence that reigned but desperate to escape to the freshness of the air outside. He nodded once, and they headed out the back door together, all eyes in the kitchen trailing them absentmindedly into the late afternoon sun. They wound their way down through the yard, past the overflowing and unruly garden beds that Harry so loved, past the large field where they had played two-on-two Quidditch uncountable times. They passed a grumpy-looking gnome waddling through the grass, retreating from the garden they had once degnomed together, before finally reaching the trees of the orchard, ripe with apples and providing dancing leafy shadows across the ground below. Picking the largest of the trees, the pair dropped to the thick, soft grass, relishing quietly in the escape from the stifling atmosphere of the normally homely Weasley kitchen.
The pair sat in silence, surveying the quiet country around them, minds filled with heavy and worrying thoughts. The air was amply refreshing, the sun sufficiently warming; however neither could quite lift the gloom settled upon their hearts.
'What do you think they're doing, taking so long?' Hermione asked hesitantly, 'I'm not sure how the Ministry handles this kind of thing…'
'Normally this would have been resolved in a heartbeat. Any report of abuse, magical or otherwise, is checked out and remedied as soon as possible. It's only coz it's Harry that it's taking this long.' Hermione sighed angrily in response, letting herself fall back against the lush blades of grass to stare at the leaves dancing above her head.
'This has escalated to the point of ridiculousness. If they have a problem with Harry,' she spat scathingly to the canopy above, 'they shouldn't let it interfere with their professional duty to protect a person in danger!'
'It's bang out of order, I've never heard of anything like it before.' Ron grabbed an overripe apple from the ground beside him where it had fallen, tossing it from hand to hand as he spoke. The dappled golden light that filtered through the leaves swayed warmly across his face, but Ron angrily wished it away. It didn't seem right, the comforting glow of the summer sun, its cheery presence feeling unwelcome amid the tension. He stared down at the shiny red fruit in his hand, before flinging it away across the orchard. It collided with the trunk of the next tree along, splattering slightly against the wood.
'We're going after him, whether the Ministry allow it or not.'
'I know.' Hermione replied, her eyes still watching the leaves above, her tone resigned and slightly apprehensive.
'And that family of his, if they've done a single thing to him…'
'I know.' Came the simple reply. Hermione propped herself up on one elbow, searching for the eyes of the young man beside her. They were rife with ire and concern, impassioned and unabashedly creating a window into his worrying heart. 'He'll be alright, Ron. We'll make sure of that- all of us will.' Ron gave a sigh as a wave of tiredness quelled his anger slightly, the rationale of Hermione's words pulling him away from his fiery temper, as always. He lay down beside his friend, who slowly lowered her head to rest on his rhythmically rising and falling chest.
'I know.' The words vibrated against Hermione's ear as Ron brought an arm around to pull her close. His skin tingled lightly beneath his shirt where Hermione's hand rested against his body; he ruefully pushed the beginnings of these feelings aside, the sweet thoughts sidling into his mind seeming as out of place in their current state as the glowing sun above. Hermione seemed oblivious to any of the thoughts in Ron's head, gazing blankly down through the grove of heavily laden trees and appearing a thousand miles away. Ron turned his eyes to the sky above, watching wispy clouds trail by, and waited.
The sky had transitioned through a brilliant sunset and trickled into a gradient of purples and blues before anything changed. Ron, his eyes still lazily gazing at the sky above, saw a dash of silver streak across the inky canvas and towards the Burrow; a patronus, he recognised, doubtlessly sending word of what was happening. He pushed up onto his elbows, Hermione rousing from where she had been lightly dozing upon his chest, her eyes worriedly darting between Ron's face and the Burrow, where he was ardently gazing. They watched together as the back door swung open, a pool of yellow light streaming out, silhouetting someone in the doorframe. Their arm waved, and a distant voice calling their names carried across the expanse of garden between them. Ron was on his feet in an instant, offering a hand to Hermione; she quickly accepted it and they hurried back through the trees, fingers intertwined. Hermione rubbed her arms as they walked, the skin there cooled from the darkness, her heart also icy at the impending news awaiting them inside. She could feel Ron's fingers in hers tremble ever so slightly as they stepped across the threshold of the back door.
The Weasleys were huddled in the kitchen, gathered around the fireplace, eyes trained upon the dancing orange flames. As the door swung open their eyes darted up, before trailing back to the fireplace.
'Your father is on his way, Kingsley's coming with him.' Mrs Weasley explained in a low voice, a clothing brush in hand ready for her impending guests. As though on cue, the flames burned emerald green, and the form of Mr Weasley appeared inside the grate. He quickly stepped away, making space for Kingsley to follow after. He gave Mrs Weasley a small peck on the cheek as she began to brush the ash from his clothes, as the flames sprang back into life to reveal Kingsley's formidable form stepping from beneath the chimney.
'Weasleys,' he greeted the clan with a nod, 'Miss Granger,' Hermione has stepped forward when Kingsley had arrived, concern etched into her features and Ron trailing not far behind.
'Is there somewhere more comfortable we can take this, Arthur?'
'Of course, Kingsley, this way.' The group migrated as one into the sitting room, everyone drifting to armchairs and couches, leaving Kingsley standing beside the mantle, all eyes trained on his solemn face.
'We have news, and I am afraid it is not exactly what we wished to hear. However,' Kingsley added at the sight of the varied expressions of distress upon the faces around him, 'it is a start, which is much to be grateful for. The Ministry's official stance on the Dursley residence remains unchanged, as does their rule prohibiting any member of the Order from interfering there in any way. They have conceded, however, to allowing a check upon the residence, during the night when the muggles will be asleep, in one week's time. Unless any new, solid evidence of any attacks can be brought forward, I'm afraid there is little more that we can do.'
'He wrote in his own blood to ask for help! How is that not enough evidence to launch an enquiry, at least?'
'Harry's official history with the family is not exactly positive. Blowing his aunt up, the incident with the tongue lolly and his cousin- from the ministry's point of view, he appears as just a disgruntled child looking for a way out from a family he is not close with.' In the past, these incidents had been remembered with mirth; now, however, even the twins looked grim as they realised the unexpected ramifications of their prank.
'Additionally, no one has seen Harry within the last 48 hours to verify any evidence of mistreatment, which does not play in our favour.'
'But they might have locked him up somewhere, in his room or something!'
'It is possible, but unfortunately unable to be proven at this time. The politics of this has been debated all morning, but the plausible deniability of the claims being put forward apparently overcomes the needs of who we are trying to protect.' Kingsley finished with a slightly bitter tone tainting his normally gentle speech.
'So he just has to wait there?' Ginny asked in a hollow voice, looking at Kingsley with a longing to be contradicted. The slow nod he gave seemed to deflate her, as she leaned back against the armchair and covered her eyes with her hands. The assembled family sat in sad and contemplative silence for a long moment, before Mrs Weasley rose to her feet and forced a lukewarm smile upon her lips.
'Well, we all still need to eat, now don't we? How about I rustle something up quickly- Ginny, you can help me, and boys, could you please set the table?' She moved out the door with a sense of purpose, however she lacked her usual matronly bustle and a certain something in her normally soft features had hardened. The Weasleys followed slowly, either moving to help in the kitchen or off to do something else- the news was broken, and there was no reason to linger any longer. Kingsley and Mr Weasley also shifted, following the crowd, their heads close as they discussed the best course of action to take from here. Soon only Ron and Hermione were left. Neither had moved from their seats; Hermione, knees hugged to her chest on the couch, and Ron directly opposite, on a rickety old chair with his elbows on his knees and face in his hands.
'Ron?' Hermione asked timidly, but he did not stir. She felt a pang of sympathy for her friend- the magical world, which had clearly seemed until now to be just and infallible in its correctness, had just betrayed the naïve trust he had instilled in it. But more than that, their friend was still not safe, not with them. The boy so battered by the first few years of his life that most adults could not viably complain beside him, was once again in the hands of someone trying to do him harm. It hurt her to know this, and she knew Ron was hurting too. She slowly unfurled her legs and trod softly across the room to his side.
'Ron…' she hovered awkwardly by his side, wanting to do something, but not knowing what. She tentatively raised her hand, before lowering it softly against the nape of his neck. She trailed her fingers through his hair; gently rubbing his neck in what she hoped was a relaxing manner. She felt a light pressure as he lent, for just a moment, into her hand, revelling in the comforting contact. Next thing she knew he was on his feet, eye to eye with an expression so intensely impassioned she felt a something trill through her stomach. He did not need to speak, she merely rubbed his shoulder once, where her hand had fallen, and quietly whispered.
'I know.' He nodded once in response, before taking her hand and leading her towards the stairs. If they were going to succeed with this they needed to do it right, and so they returned to the privacy of Ron's room to plan.
I saw a couple of reviews hoping for just a Golden Trio plot, which is what I had planned anyway, but this will confirm that we shan't just be waiting for a legality to get Harry home, there shall be some adventuring involved, of sorts. Hopefully thats what you wanted to hear? :)
For the same reason as above, I don't believe I shall update before November time, when my exams wrap up. Enjoy, give suggestions, whatever you like. Thanks for the read!