A/n: I know, I suck.

Edit: Because the above statement is true, and I like being culturally correct. Thanks for the positive criticism, IWantANathanScott.

The Tales of Weasley the Father
By dieselwriter

Chapter 23: The Tale of School

"School day, school day, my favorite day of the year is here!"

The two children glared at their father, obviously not amused.

"School day, school day," he continued singing all the same, oblivious to all but the wonderful fact that his children were about to be sent off to their first day of Muggle school for the year.

"Hugo, please go get your shoes on," Hermione ran into the kitchen, a toothbrush hanging from her mouth and rucksacks held in her hands. "Rosie, did you brush your teeth?"

"Yes Mum," Rosie rolled her eyes, having answered that question twice already by her preoccupied mother. But she left the room anyway to retrieve her shoes before Hermione could notice.

"I've already got my shoes on!" Hugo complained, scowling heavily at his pajama-clad father.

"Your jacket then, dear," she said before also getting an eyeful of her husband, still in his sleepwear and eating a massive bowl of cereal. "Comfortable?"

"Extremely," Ron gave a big grin at Hugo, who looked even more annoyed before stomping off to locate his jacket. The kitchen thus empty of children, he stood up and grabbed the rucksacks from his wife, who was busy trying to place her signature on some school forms. "Need any help?"

"Find the car keys?" Hermione pleaded, eyes still focused on the quill scratching across the surface of the paper.

"Sure thing."

He carried the rucksacks out of the kitchen and smiled as he glanced at his children down the hall. Hugo was having a difficult time pulling a jumper too small for him over his head, while Rosie was lacing up the new shoes she had just recently bought. She had cleaned them every night last week, claiming that she wanted them to be absolutely perfect for her first day.

"School day, school day," Ron chanted in his sing-song voice, and both children groaned as he shuffled his socked feet over to them, placing their bags on the floor beside the front door. "Aren't you supposed to be getting your jacket, Hugo?"

"No jacket. Jacket's itchy. And you have to go to work later, you know," Hugo got out as he finally succeeded in pulling the sweater over his head. The sleeves proved to be at least an inch too short, exposing his freckled wrists.

"I think you grabbed the wrong jumper," Rosie stated the obvious, pointing a finger at the L emblazoning his chest. "In fact, I think Lily left that over here last week."

"Eurgh!" Hugo quickly pulled the green sweater back over his head. "Then where is my jumper?"

"Lily might've grabbed yours by accident," Ron said, peeking his head into the closet but unable to find his son's green sweater. "That's okay, I'll grab one of mum's old ones for you."

"Dad!" his son gave a scandalized look.

"What?" he asked, feigning confusion. "Nobody'd know the difference. H for Hermione, or H for Hugo. See?"

Grabbing his wife's lilac sweater, he held it out for his son to get a view of. His façade broke at seeing Hugo's mortified expression.

"Jacket?" Ron laughed, tossing his wife's sweater back in before pulling out his son's school-approved jacket.

"Jacket," Hugo sighed in defeat, shoving his arms through the sleeves after accepting the proffered itchy jacket.

"We need to be leaving," Rosie said, checking her watch.

"Not yet," Ron reminded her, stepping forward to grab hold of her wrist. "Remember? You set your watch forward twenty minutes so you wouldn't be late."

He adjusted the watch to the correct time, before tossing her a sly smile.

"Just enough time for a quick back to school story, in fact."

"Not exactly," Hugo stepped up hurriedly, grabbing his sister's wrist from his father's grip to get at her watch. "I set it forward a half hour as a joke, so that means it's definitely time to go."

"But knowing you so well I set it back eighteen minutes," Ron retook his daughter's arm and wound the watch to the new time.

"But I saw you change it when you didn't think I was looking," Hugo took the watch and reset it. "So I went in after you were done with it and set it forward another half hour."

"So that really does mean we're running late," Rosie snatched her arm out of her brother's and father's grips before any more harm could come to it.

"Not quite so," Ron said, pointing at his own watch. "I figured Hugo might mess with it again, so I took the liberty to make sure my watch was at the correct time. And the current time reads seven thirty—ten minutes before we have to leave—which leaves us with just enough time for a story about your mother's first day of school after the Second Wizarding War."

Both children looked extremely dumbfounded by this infallible logic, but that confusion quickly turned to more discontent as their father began his tale.

He was late. He was really late. So late that he was almost guaranteed a triple shouting match between his mum, Ginny, and Hermione. But it's not like it was his fault the newly established Ministry of Magic's defensive spells meant he wasn't allowed to Apparate right to the train station.

Not that Apparition would have been his first method of travel anyway, given that he was more than suitably nervous and his finger nails had only very recently grown back completely. Thus the only option left to him was to Floo, and the only fireplace connected to the Floo network nearby King's Cross was a wizened old hag's who lived a mile away.

So there truly was no reason for the women in his life to gang up on him. Mind, a silly little thing like logic wasn't going to stop his mother or sister. His girlfriend, on the other hand, might be up to the task of at least listening before verbally castrating him.

Despite the unpleasant thought, Ron grinned from ear to ear as he rushed past a rather portly bloke in an expensive, highly uncomfortable-looking Muggle suit.

Girlfriend. Oh, how he liked the sound of that. He and Hermione hadn't been together for very long—officially, that is, otherwise it could get complicated—yet he had never been happier.

Most of their summer had been eventful, what with the reconstruction of Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic, as well as retrieving Hermione's parents and their memories. Yet no matter what tasks they performed together during the day, Ron and Hermione always took their own time off after dinner; sometimes to take a walk down by the pond in the backyard of the Burrow, to head down to the Muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole, or on rare occasions they would head to the Weasley's makeshift Quidditch Pitch for private flying lessons. It was nearly unbelievable to imagine this cherished part of his summer, given how poorly it had started off.

It was by no means perfect, though. The arguments hadn't stopped, and to be honest Ron doubted they ever would. But it wasn't like it was always a bad thing; Harry mentioned repeatedly how concerned he was when they got along too well.

Sometimes, however, it was bad.

Their row last night reverberated in his skull as he rounded a corner at breakneck speed.

I just don't see why you have to go back to school, Hermione. Kingsley could work it so you could have any job you wanted in the Ministry. He's the Minister, for Merlin's sake!

I know I don't have to go back. I want to. I like school. I want to complete my Hogwarts education.

It's not like you're going to learn anything new. You already know all the N.E.W.T. level spells.

I want to show support to the school though, Ron. McGonagall needs all the help she can get this year.

You can still support it but not go. Harry and I both support it.

I know you do, Ron, but it's really something I feel like I should do, just like how you feel like you should help George out at the shop.

It's nothing like that!

Ron—

It's a bloody school, Hermione! George is my brother. They're not even remotely close to being the same!

I know that, Ron—

Then don't act like it is!

All right, I'm sorry. They aren't the same. But that doesn't change the fact that I still want to go back and finish my schooling.

And that doesn't change the fact that I think it's a waste of time.

It hadn't been very pretty after that. Comparing Hermione's education—nay, comparing anyone's education—to something worthless brought about the same reaction as would kicking a house elf with a steel-toed boot right in front of her.

Ron finally entered King's Cross and dashed for the magical barrier to Platform 9¾ as he frantically checked his watch. Swearing at the mere sixty seconds he had to reach his girlfriend, he pushed his way through other frenzied travelers who glared at him as he shoved past.

"Oi, you, slow down!" an angry porter shouted after him as he hurdled over a little girl's trunk, but Ron was able to successfully dodge any incoming interference from the Muggle by ducking behind a party of American tourists and disappearing through the magical barrier when their backs were turned.

The gleaming scarlet engine, which was supposed to be there just as it always did on September the first, was chugging away as Ron stumbled onto the platform

"NO! WAIT!" he shouted and cursed, weaving through the straggling well wishers littering the platform. It was no use, though; Ron watched forlornly as the train disappeared around the bend, effectively making him feel like the utter arse that he was.

"Running a little late, aren't we Ronnie?"

"You're the one—who turned off—" Ron panted, doubling over to try and relieve the severe stitch in his side, "my alarm—this morning!"

"I don't think you realize how annoying it is to hear the Chudley Cannons' anthem every morning."

"Fantastic," Ron spat, standing back up. "Thanks to your terrible taste in music Hermione's never going to talk to me again."

"Oh calm down, little brother. I'm about to do you a favor."

Ron frowned deeply, remembering that the last favor George had paid him involved a summer of back-breaking labor cleaning up the shop for very little pay. George seemed unaware of that fact, however, as he threw an arm over his little brother's shoulder.

"Given most of our paying customers just left with that train, I reckon I can handle the shop tonight."

Ron wasn't convinced.

"What's the catch?"

"Now Ronnie, I'm offended. I'm your older brother; I have to be looking out for your best interests. And if that involves letting you say goodbye to your girlfriend so she doesn't hex me into the next century for making you miss her train, then so be it."

"Your selflessness is inspiring. But weren't you supposed to meet with Angelina tonight?"

"We can always reschedule it for another day," George replied offhandedly, as if the fury of his own girlfriend was nothing to be concerned about. "Your dinner date, however, cannot."

"You're sure?"

"'Course I'm sure. Just something to keep in mind, though," and here, George lowered his voice, as if ready to share a personal secret. "Next time, go with sweets. No easier way to a woman's heart than chocolate."

Ron, who had been anticipating some vital information, rolled his eyes as George removed his arm from his shoulder and threw his brother a lazy smirk. The elder Weasley led the way back down the platform toward his rather hostile-looking mother and his brother's relatively relaxed best friend. Ron debated all of two seconds leaving for Hogsmeade now, but the train wouldn't arrive until that evening and he really didn't fancy waiting around that long. He therefore tentatively followed in George's shadow and was properly accosted by his mother moments later.

"I cannot believe you!" she shrieked, and Ron tried in vain to cower behind Harry, who had been trying to casually observe the argument rather than become involved. "I thought I raised you better than this!"

Feeling he ought to have waited in Hogsmeade now to avoid this confrontation, he barely managed to squeak out half an accusation against his brother before being interrupted.

"I don't want to hear your apology!" she continued at a very high octave, misinterpreting his words as an act of contrition. "You need to go to Hermione and tell her you're sorry yourself!"

"I was planning on it," Ron grumbled, but his mother did not seem to hear him as she hugged him tightly.

"It is good to see you though, dear. Although," she pulled out of the embrace and held him out at arm's length, "maybe you ought to think about a shower."

"I was running late!" Ron tried to defend himself as Harry and George snickered loudly behind him. "Thanks to somebody!"

"Don't blame me for your foul odor," George dodged his brother's glare by folding his arms over his chest and giving a somber expression. "Honestly, I try to promote a healthy and hygienic environment in our flat. It's hard enough just to get him to brush his teeth once a week sometimes."

"Oh you're a real riot," Ron replied sarcastically, but the effect was lost as his mother pulled him into another hug.

"When we realized you wouldn't make it on time, George said he'd let you off of work early to go meet up with Hermione. So please think about trying to find something nice to wear, preferably something that was washed recently."

"Mum!" Ron pulled away for a scowl, but his mother was already making her way over to George to complain about how his unkempt facial hair made him look highly unprofessional.

"You're dead, you know that, right?"

"Your support is really appreciated, mate," Ron mumbled as he turned on Harry, who held up his hands in defeat.

"Hey, I was referring to Ginny. She looked set to kill when you didn't show up. I recommend getting something for Hermione and your sister so they don't curse you on the spot."

"This is none of Ginny's business."

"Tell that to her when she's hitting you with a Bat Bogey Hex."

Ron had nothing to say about that. He hadn't yet been on the receiving end of one of those, and he didn't intend to have that change any time soon.

"All girls like flowers, that's all I'm saying," Harry advised wisely.

"Harry, didn't you mention that Kingsley wanted you back at the Ministry at 11:30?" Mrs. Weasley asked, only after finishing her scrutiny of George.

"Yeah, but it's only," Harry checked his watch and swore before heading briskly for the magical barrier. "I've got to run! But remember! Flowers!"

"Well this has been a fun little meeting," George spoke up, moving into the spot Harry had just vacated. "But we really should be running. I've given little Ronnie here the night off, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get to help with the day shift. Mother, may we escort you to the barrier?"

"That would be lovely, boys," Mrs. Weasley returned his grin, allowing each of her sons to take hold of one of her arms and lead her to the exit.

George's generous nature all but ended when he and Ron showed up for their noon shift at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. He worked his younger brother right up until an hour before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to arrive at Hogsmeade Station.

So it was with a few minutes to spare that a relatively clean Ron (at his mother's suggestion) headed to Hogsmeade Station, blushing faintly as he towed along a newly transfigured bouquet of flowers and a recently purchased apology set of Honeydukes' best truffles.

He turned the corner and his tokens of affection nearly dropped out of his hands as his gaze fell on the numerous stagecoaches waiting for its student passengers in the street.

"Bloody hell!"

"Blimey, Ron, is that you?"

Squinting further up the dark road, Ron could make out the very familiar form of Hagrid who, true to form, was holding up his lantern and looking at Ron in surprise.

"Hagrid," Ron breathed in relief and nearly sprinted up the road to hover between his old friend and the entrance to the station, as far away as he could get from the strange, frightening creatures standing between the carriage shafts. "What the hell are those?"

Hagrid laughed as Ron pointed a shaking finger at the closest monster, an odd mixture of a horse and bat with haunting, milky-white eyes.

"Now Ron, I know yeh dropped me class, bu' I had hoped you'd learned something from me! These're thestrals, o' course!"

Ron made a noise that resembled a hiccupping frog at realizing that this was what he had ridden on to get to the Ministry of Magic in his fifth year.

"So you can see 'em now, eh? Well, wha' d'yeh think?"

Ron bit his tongue as the thestral he had pointed to stared straight at him, adding on to the amount of butterflies already frantically fluttering around in his stomach.

"Beau'iful, aren' they?"

"Er, yeah, something like that."

He nearly jumped out of his skin as the staring thestral moved his skeletal face in Ron's direction and sniffed in interest.

"I think she likes yeh!" Hagrid boomed in excitement, giving Ron an encouraging pat on the back that made him stumble several feet forward toward the curious creature. "Go on, say hi! Not of'en one of 'em gets an int'rest in someone apar' from me!"

Ron stood exceptionally still as the thestral sniffed uncomfortably close, moving from his shoulder to take a whiff of the Honeydukes' chocolate clenched tightly in his fist. He flinched spectacularly as the thestral sneezed loudly, effectively drenching Ron's entire front in bogies.

"Sorry abou' that, Ron," Hagrid laughed, taking a rather grimy handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the snot off Ron's face.

"Thanks, it's fine, I've got it," Ron stepped back, able to relax now that he was out of the thestral's sneezing range.

"Buttercup here's jus' gettin' over a cold," Hagrid explained, patting the thestral affectionately. "Guess I shoulda warned yeh."

"No big deal," Ron returned, hiding his amusement at the thestral's odd name while wiping off the mess as best he could.

"So I thought yeh weren't comin' back this year? Decided yeh couldn' stay away?"

"Just came to see Hermione off, actually," Ron said, returning the handkerchief back to his half-giant friend while checking his watch at the reminder.

"We should be thinkin' abou' headin' inside then," Hagrid said, head cocked to the side as if waiting for something. A distant whistle sounded a moment later, and Hagrid held open the station door while chuckling. "Nice ter hear that sound again. After you."

Ron walked inside and the butterflies in his stomach seemed to go into a frenzy as the train whistle sounded again, much louder.

"Good, good," Hagrid said distractedly as the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station. "Time ter get ter work, I suppose. You take care o' yerself, Ron."

"Thanks Hagrid," Ron made his goodbyes nervously as the train halted and uniformed students began piling out of the compartments. "Have fun with the first years."

"O' course! An' don' be so nervous!"

Hagrid grinned down at him and Ron tried to return it before making his way through the crowd, surprised to feel a bit of nostalgia as he heard Hagrid's booming voice over the chatter of all the students: "Firs' years, this way! Oi! Firs' years!"

Ron weaved through the large herd of midgety students fumbling over their robes to reach the half-giant before taking stock of where he was and trying to decide where Hermione should be.

"Ronald, m'boy, could that possibly be you?"

Ron's eyebrows furrowed at the familiar voice used in a genial tone he had never heard before spoken to him. He turned to find his old Potions professor smiling jovially at him, as if he had bumped into an old friend accidentally.

"And here I was told you weren't coming back to Hogwarts this year!" Slughorn guffawed, looking every bit the same as Ron remembered him with a walrus mustache and wearing large, luxurious robes.

"Are you sure you've got the right guy?" Ron gave an uneasy smile, looking behind him in case he was actually trying to communicate to someone else.

"Of course I'm sure!" Slughorn practically yelled for all the station to hear. "Harry Potter only had one best friend when destroying You-Know-Who's Hor—er, you-know-whats last year! I was worried when you didn't show up for our little get-together on the train, but now that I know you'll be attending school this year, I can introduce you to everyone you missed today—"

"I think you're a little confused," Ron interrupted. "Harry Potter had two best friends helping him out last year, and I'm not the one coming back to Hogwarts this year—"

"We'll work out the details with Minerva later," Slughorn swatted away Ron's words as if they were utterly meaningless to him. "Now, come share a carriage with me, and we'll discuss our first meeting of the school term."

"No, really—"

"I insist!" Slughorn all but dragged Ron in the exact opposite direction he wanted to go in. "What date would work best for you? Sometime this week, perhaps?"

"I can't—" Ron tried to make a move, but the Potions professor grabbed onto his arm.

"Or maybe next—eurgh, what is all this?"

Slughorn retracted his mucus-covered hand before taking a moment to glance at Ron's dirtied outfit, and when his gaze lingered over the Honeydukes bag in his hand, Ron was struck with sudden inspiration.

"Oh, er, for you, sir!" Ron extended the bag, eager to find a way out of this situation quickly. "You should really have some."

"But what would my Healer say?" Slughorn mumbled, now looking everywhere but the bag, as if he were embarrassed to have been caught even glancing at it.

"It's good for you!" Ron pressed, holding out the bag enticingly. "Dark chocolate, you know, all the Healers are swearing by it."

"I suppose one couldn't hurt," Slughorn's eyes twinkled in pleasure as took the bag.

"Why don't you go reserve a carriage and I'll meet up with you later?"

"Yes, very well, Ron," he returned thickly, having just popped a truffle into his mouth. "Don't be long!"

Ron turned around and ran as fast as he could through the throng, away from the overbearing professor. That small, unascertainable desire he held back in sixth year to be inducted into the Slug Club seemed automatically foolish now, after spending a mere minute with the man. He wasn't sure how Hermione, Harry, and Ginny had been able to handle it.

"Ronald."

The sister he had been envisioning seemingly came to life right before his eyes, emerging from the thinning crowd of students and looking positively murderous.

"Ginny…"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't curse you into oblivion."

Ron swallowed dryly before moving the arm holding the bouquet up robotically, allowing his baby sister to take the flowers from him.

She glanced at the delicate buds before glaring at him, obviously debating how to react to such an unexpected present.

"I'll hex the shit out of you if she comes back to me upset," Ginny growled, giving her best I really mean it look.

She turned on the spot, fingering the petals gingerly while making her way to the doorway leading out onto the street.

Ron sighed, now empty-handed, before turning around and nearly bowling over someone right behind him.

"Oh, I'm sor—" Ron started, placing his hands on the person's shoulders to help steady them.

The rest of his apology died in his throat as he realized he was holding Hermione.

"We need to leave! NOW!" Hermione interrupted, bypassing her family to open the front door.

"Aww, Hermione, I was just getting to the good part!"

"Time for school!" Hugo shouted, sounding eager at the prospect for the very first time.

"Car keys?" Hermione asked as she ushered her children outside.

"Oh! Uh…" Ron didn't have to look very hard; he located the keys on the hook hanging by the door, just where they were supposed to be when Ron wasn't responsible for putting them away.

"Thanks," Hermione said as her husband handed her the keys. "I love you, and I'm sorry!"

"I love you, too," Ron kissed her before she rushed out the door after her children. "But I'm not sorry about it!"

"I meant about cutting your story short!" she yelled back at him as she slid into the car. "You can finish it after school!"

"Mum!" Rosie protested loudly as she climbed into the car. "No!"

"School's bad enough without having that looming over our heads!" Hugo added, climbing in after his sister.

"You can count on it!" Ron shouted over them. "Think of it as something to look forward to during your first school day, school day!"

Ron swore his last dig earned him complaining so loud and penetrating that even their closed car doors couldn't block it out. He waved them off with a smile after Hermione started the ignition and pulled out of the driveway.

"Well I thought it was a good story," Ron mumbled, closing the door slowly when his family had disappeared down the street. "Maybe I'll throw in a Chimaera for good measure next time. Nothing like a Chimaera fight to spice up a story. Yeah, haven't done that yet…"

A hoot interrupted that train of thought, and Ron turned to frown at Lady, who was sitting on the cloak rack, sticking out a leg with a note tied to it for him to take.

"Oh bah, like you've never fudged the truth before," Ron grumbled as he shuffled forward, taking care when pulling the note free. His efforts earned him a nip on the finger before she puffed out her feathers, no doubt expecting a reward.

"Thanks," Ron muttered distractedly, petting her on the head twice before unfurling the letter. Lady hooted angrily but Ron ignored her as he read the letter.

He finished reading and found himself raising an eyebrow, unsure of how to respond to the absurd contents. He reread it but it still didn't make much more sense to him.

"You have got to be kidding me," Ron muttered, rubbing at his eyes as if to blame them for the strange news.

As if to directly deny any joke, Ron heard what could only have been the distant sound of someone tumbling out of his fireplace.

"Ron? You ready to go?" Harry called out, walking out into the hallway to find his best friend still in his sleepwear. "Apparently not."

"Just read your letter, actually," he returned, holding up the note in annoyance. "This can't be true. This is a joke."

"Well, that's what they pay us for, to check this stuff out," Harry shrugged. "C'mon, get dressed. We've got work to do."

"But really," Ron pleaded, in an obvious attempt to stay in his comfortable clothes and socks for as long as possible, "how does Travis Scabior, the most wanted wizard in the Wizarding world, waltz down Diagon Alley, steal an owl of all things from the Magical Menagerie, and Apparate away without getting caught?"

"Search me," Harry said, shrugging again.

"But now my cereal's going to get all soggy," Ron moaned, even as he trudged down the hallway to his bedroom to get changed. "Stupid Scabior. An owl, really?"

Ron's door slammed shut just as Lady hooted loudly again, as if to explain exactly why an owl would be a necessary accessory to a loony criminal. Harry had to laugh at his friend's lamentations.

"Work day, work day, time to make Travis Scabior pay!"

Ron stuck his head out of his bedroom door to glare at a bemused Harry.

"What? Lily was singing something like it this morning. Says she learned it from her Uncle Ron."

"I taught her and my kids the School Day Song last week. There is no such thing as a Work Day Song."

"I believe I just made it up then! Rather catchy, don't you think?" Harry grinned cheekily at an unamused Ron, who retreated back to his room to finish getting ready.

"Work day, work day—!"

"Oh SHUT IT!"

A/n: Oh, how the plot thickens….

My sincerest apologies for not updating sooner. Being an adult sucks. A lot. Finding a job is even worse. Just warning you guys who are in school…enjoy it (or at least benefit from it) while you can.

Updates might be a bit infrequent until I can get settled with my current situation. I've been moving around the country a lot and it's been hard to find the time to just sit and write. I've also been working on another fic that I swear I've mentioned before…it was meant to be up before HBP came out, but that obviously didn't happen. Be on the lookout for it, though…I predict it'll be up before the next Tales chapter.

Expect the next chapter to have the rest of this chapter's tale, as well as a cameo or two from some special red-headed guests. Yay for Weasley loving!

And once again, thank you to all of my loyal reviewers. I know I've been a pretty big you-know-what when it comes to replying to reviews and updating and things, but I truly do appreciate you all and hope you continue to read and comment on my story. I love getting your input and support…plus, it's always a motivator to write more *wink*wink*nudge*nudge*

~dieselwriter

P.S.- Don't think I've forgotten the results of the poll. I'm working on it for a future chapter, I swear. Should be fun to write. ;)

P.P.S.- For those thinking ill of the School Day Song, I swear it's real. Often sung by my own dad, in fact. I almost miss hearing it…almost.