A/N: Happy birthday to meeee! No, it's not technically my birthday, but today marks the official birthday of The Tales of Weasley the Father! Five years old and still going! Woohoo!
In honor of this momentous occasion, the flashback was inspired by the poll featured on my profile page (one of these days I'm going to have to change it...). You voted for who you'd like to see make an appearance in this story and your winner will now be featured!
This chapter is dedicated for all those reviewers, past and present, who have always left a kind word. Seriously, I love writing and I love the Harry Potter fandom (and I love writing for the Harry Potter fandom), but without you guys I have serious doubts that I'd be celebrating this fic's fifth birthday.
So without further ado and with much fanfare, I present to you:
The Tales of Weasley the Father
By dieselwriter
Chapter 30: The Tale of Loony and the Loch Ness Monster
"This can't be right…how did we spend this much money? We were only gone two days…"
Nigel frowned, squinting to read the tiny print of the expense report in the dark hallway. He had spent many a sleepless night during his admittedly short tenure as the Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic wandering the halls of the Ministry. It was a time he could get serious work done without the stress of bosses and coworkers breathing over his shoulder or else interrupting—
"Oi! Eyes in front, eh? Some of us have very important business to attend to."
Nigel tripped, dropping his papers before finding his balance. He turned to look behind him and find what he stumbled over.
"Nigel," Ron Weasley nodded up at him from his spot on the ground, leaning up against a closed door with his legs splayed out in front of him in as undignified a manner as possible, "always a pleasure."
"Auror Weasley?" Nigel replied incredulously. It was a rare sight indeed to find the youngest Weasley son at work any later than he had to be. Not that he didn't love his work (quite the contrary), but he also had a wife and two children who he loved to consistently brag about waiting for him at home.
"Now I'm pretty sure I've told you to call me Ron an unsettling amount of times before, Nigel."
"W-what are you doing here?"
"I could ask the same of you. You are the one traversing Auror territory."
"Is that Auror Potter's door you've camped yourself out in front of?"
"And now you're interrogating me? You've offended me, Mr. Wolpert."
"Mr. Wolpert?" Nigel actually did look upset at hearing his surname. "Since when have I become Mr. Wolpert?"
"Since birth, I imagine," Ron frowned, crossing his arms defensively.
"Not to you," Nigel practically pouted.
Ron's eyebrows rose dramatically.
"So let me get this straight," Ron said, scrambling to his feet to face him with a severe height advantage, "you call me Auror Weasley every single time you see me, but I call you Mr. Wolpert once and it upsets you?"
The grin that spread across Nigel's face made him look half his age.
"No, but it did get you on your feet. Go home, Auror Weasley."
"Oh come on, Nigel, it's only…" Ron's jaw dropped when he checked the time on his watch. "Damn, it's 11 o'clock already?!"
"Sounds about right," Nigel replied smugly. "Now go home."
"Do you just like, live in the Ministry?" Ron eyed him suspiciously, as if he believed it Nigel's fault that he lost track of the time. "Did I interrupt your late night wanderings before a warm glass of milk and bed?"
"Your giant feet interrupted my perusing of the budget report, actually."
"I'll have you know these giant feet could kick your arse all the way back to your office."
"They could kick most things, sir. They are very large."
"Well, despite your best insults and most persuasive arguments, I'm afraid I have to stay here in order to achieve my latest mission," Ron sniffed the air contemptuously. "Top secret stuff, you know. Not even the Minister's right-hand man knows about it."
"If you're referring to me, I've told you a thousand times that my position as Junior Assistant to the Minister is a glorified title meaning secretary," Nigel shook his head when Ron snorted in laughter. "And if your latest mission involves cornering Auror Potter for a distinctly 'Auror territory' conversation, I'm quite certain he sent an owl to Minister Shacklebolt to say his current mission was causing him more troubles than he initially anticipated and his return should not be expected for another few days."
Ron appeared momentarily stunned.
"And what time did this owl arrive, pray tell?"
Nigel hid behind a mask of passivity before answering.
"I believe it was five o'clock, sir."
And now Ron looked livid, if the scarlet coloring of his ears was anything to judge by, and anyone who knew a member of the Weasley family knew it was a telling sign of fury.
"Five o'clock?"
"Yes sir."
"I'm going to kill him," Ron raged mutinously, withdrawing his wand and facing Harry's door as if he wished to do it magical harm. "I will sort out our issues after I've killed him. It will be much easier that way."
"You may want to sleep on that death threat, sir."
"Oh trust me, Nigel, it's not a threat, it's a promise. And I'm going to have to sleep on it since he has refused to discuss things like a civil adult."
"It's not possible the owl was a decoy and he's bemoaning his choices of friends in front of your office door, then? Maybe you just missed each other."
Ron glared at his composed schoolmate-turned-coworker.
"Too much of my sarcasm have rubbed off on you, Nigel. It's flattering, but mostly annoying."
"I only wish I could share some of my level-headedness with you, Auror Weasley."
"I remain stubborn to the last," Ron's glare melted into a half-hearted smile. It was hard to maintain any real anger with the always well-meaning Nigel. "You know, you should really follow your own advice. Can't budget cuts wait until the morning?"
"I could just decide to cut some of the Aurors' wages. Honestly, I don't even know why we pay them so much…" Nigel finally broke out a genuine smile when Ron's grouchy frown made another appearance.
"Good night, Mr. Wolpert."
"Good night, Auror Weasley."
Nigel picked up the budget report he had dropped in surprise before carrying on down the hall, and Ron waved him farewell as he rounded the corner.
Then Ron sighed heavily. Hermione was away at some Civil Liberties for the Centaurs convention in Glasgow for the remainder of the week, but that did not mean there wouldn't be hell to pay when he showed up at the Burrow five hours late for dinner.
He was not disappointed when, 15 minutes later, he had set only one foot into the kitchen before being accosted by his irate mother.
"Ronald! What do you call this hour you decide to grace us with your presence?"
Ron shrunk noticeably, having very little to offer in defense.
"That was a rather menacing compliment, Mum."
Molly Weasley scowled, and Ron flinched at the fire burning behind her glare.
"We waited for you for dinner for an hour. An entire hour, Ronald! No one wants to eat my cooking when it is stone cold!"
"I do," Ron muttered, wincing when his mother's eyes turned to slits. "What? You're cooking's great no matter how long it's been sitting around."
Molly looked halfway between wanting to hug him and hex him before settling the debate by placing her hands on her hips.
"Well, even if the state of my cooking didn't suffer your absence, your family does not like to be kept waiting, dear. Next time it's a late night would you have the forethought to send us an owl?"
Ron did have the grace to look ashamed of himself.
"I am sorry," he apologized, ducking his head to peek at his shoelaces. "There's just something I've been trying to take care of for the past month or so."
Molly Weasley's face softened, swiftly entering motherly mode.
"No success on the newest mission, I take it?"
Ron shrugged, still watching his shoes and looking rather pathetic indeed. This 'newest mission' wasn't an assignment so much as a hunt for the ever-elusive Harry Potter, who had yet to be seen by any member of the Weasley family since Ron's birthday nearly a week ago.
"Not much to work on when you haven't had two words with the subject since the start of the mission. He extended his assignment today without even telling me."
It upset Ron more than he might have let on with Nigel to not be privy to the information regarding the delay in Harry's return. The raven haired Auror was always adamant about contacting three people when he knew he'd be home later than anticipated while on a mission: Kingsley, Ginny, and Ron.
Molly, understanding all of this with just a glance at her youngest son, brought him in for a hug, holding him tightly.
"It'll happen soon, I'm quite sure of it. Dad spoke with him over the Floo earlier this week, did you know?"
"Ha, yeah, I heard about that," Ron cracked a smile as he withdrew from his mother's embrace. "Didn't George break up that conversation with a Howler?"
"Yes, and Bill sent him another one this morning," Molly replied with a thoughtful frown. "I believe my other sons are just as tired of this standoff as you are, dear."
"Not just sons," Ron smiled even wider, shaking his head. "Ginny said she'd threaten to come back to the Burrow if he didn't at least come to talk to me when he gets back."
"He is a stubborn one, that Harry Potter," Molly sighed.
A sudden thump and flurry of giggles sounded from upstairs, and Molly looked instantaneously cross.
"Now I sent those children to bed two hours ago, I know they must be asleep!" she shouted, her voice undoubtedly carrying throughout the house where his misbehaving children resided. "I better check on them just in case though!"
The giggles stopped abruptly, and Ron grinned crookedly.
"I'll take care of it, Mum," he said, placing a kiss on his mother's cheek. "You go to bed."
"Thank you, Ron," Molly smiled at him, and Ron tried not to frown when he noticed how wan it was. "We do love having you here, you know?"
"I know, Mum, thanks," Ron bid her off with a nod before traipsing up the stairs two at a time, making sure to skip the steps that creaked and the one with a cracked board that everyone was too lazy to fix.
It wasn't exceptionally hard to find which bedroom his children decided to camp out in this evening; all he had to do was follow the sounds of Hugo's cackling and Rose's hiccups.
"This doesn't sound like the dulcet sleep-sounds of snoozing children," Ron sang, not bothering to knock at the door of Bill and Charlie's old bedroom before opening it to lean inside.
"Surpri— Charlie?" Ron blinked, but his second oldest brother remained where he sat at the end of his old bed, which happened to contain both Hugo and Rosie.
"Surprise yourself," Charlie grinned, waving at his youngest brother. "You've interrupted story time, you know."
Ron pursed his lips, wishing his family members would stop trying to purposefully annoy him.
"Is that so?" Ron said, sternly watching as Hugo's face fell guiltily and Rosie avoided eye contact at all costs. "Well don't let me interrupt. Even if Granny Weasley sent them to bed two hours ago."
"She thinks I'm still at Ginny's," Charlie said, sending him a snarky smile that twisted the scars and burns ever-present on his face. "I'd say mum's the word but it's a bad pun."
"Like that ever stopped you before," Ron rolled his eyes, entering the room fully and closing the door behind him. "What sort of stories has your Uncle Charlie told you thus far?"
"Last month a Romanian Longhorn dragon wanted to play Quidditch with him and made him a human Snitch," Hugo piped up, any guilt quick to evaporate in his excitement. "And the week before that a Herbivore Black—"
"Hebridean," Rosie corrected.
"Wish he was an herbivore," Charlie muttered.
"Yeah, a Hebridean Black tried to make a sandwich out of him. That's why he's got a stub for a finger."
"Ouch," Ron winced sympathetically.
"That's what I said when it happened!" Charlie grinned like an idiot, which made Ron roll his eyes again. "How about a dear old Dad story, eh kiddies?" He winked at Ron. "I bet you'd love that!"
Rosie and Hugo collectively groaned at the offer.
"Now don't be like that," Charlie chastised, but any serious effect was lost when he wagged his stubby finger at them. "Daddy Dearest has a million amazing stories. Go ahead, Ronnie; dazzle us!"
Ron rested his chin on his hand, thinking of what story would be appealing both to his children and his brother.
"No more dragon stories," Hugo requested, flinching at the scowl Charlie threw his way.
"You can never have too many dragon stories!" Charlie thumped the mattress beneath him hard.
"No dragons," Ron nodded, glancing at his brother. "I've got no dragon story to top yours."
"No you don't," Charlie said, appearing mollified. "Got any good Chimaera stories? I'm distinctly lacking in those."
"How about how you and Mum met?" Rosie asked, looking hopeful.
"How about no," Hugo gagged. "I vote for the Chimaera!"
"Fresh out of those I'm afraid," Ron cracked his knuckles before squeezing a seat for himself on the rather occupied bed. "I've got a pretty good mythical sea creature story though."
"A nice subject for a bedtime story," Charlie nodded his approval.
Both children laughed at the joke so Ron surged forward.
"Oh, come on Ron, don't be such a baby!"
Ron's eyes were filled with tears but he wiped them away stubbornly with the frayed edge of his coat. The fabric scraped the welt on his left cheek and unbidden tears sprang to his eyes once again. He blinked them away this time, ignoring the blood that trailed down from the offending injury.
"Let'm go," George's crow echoed behind him and he stifled a sniffle. "A lesson learned for wee Ronnie."
His and Fred's laughter chased him and he sprinted down the hill, embarrassed and hurt. He didn't stop running until he was forced to, when his path was cut off by a stream.
He glared at the body of water as if it had offended him rather than his twin brothers. Looking at his feet, he found a sizable stone and threw it as hard as he could into the water. He did it twice more, grunting with effort on the last throw.
"I'd be careful, if I were you," a sing-song voice drifted towards him, as if it were being carried on the water.
Ron turned to glance upstream, surprised to find a small blonde girl wearing a pale blue dress that matched her eyes and large, bright red Wellington boots. She was holding a fishing rod and looked like a phantom with the fog rolling in behind her.
"You'll wake up the Loch Ness Monster," she finished her warning, seeming unfazed by the cold breeze that pulled at her frilly dress.
Ron frowned at the odd girl, taking in both her appearance and words.
"Doesn't he live in Scotland?" Ron finally spoke up, not sure he wanted to offend her.
"My father says she migrates for the winter," she clarified.
She turned to the stream and cast the line of her fishing pole out.
"Aren't you cold?" Ron asked, noticing her bare knees and lack of coat.
"Aren't you warm?" she asked in reply, eying his red cheeks.
Ron watched her, feeling a bit nervous, as he removed his coat and held it out to her. She took it, sticking her arms in the sleeves.
"You're wearing it backwards," he said when she pulled the sleeves on all the way, snuggling the back of the coat to her face.
"It feels like a hug this way."
Ron stayed still, watching her nervously. He was already regretting giving her his coat.
"Are you trying to catch it?" he asked.
"Catch what?" her large eyes turned to him, as if surprised he was still there.
"A cold," Ron huffed sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "The Loch Ness Monster."
"No, neither of those things," she replied. "There's a system in place to catch the Loch Ness Monster. First you start by catching a large trout or cod, then use that to catch a sea serpent, and then a sea serpent to catch Nessie."
"A sea serpent," Ron deadpanned.
"Yes."
"Will your pole support a sea serpent?"
The girl thought about that for a moment, watching her bobber in the water and swaying on the spot. Ron eyed her warily, not sure if she were seriously contemplating the question or doing a superb job at duping him.
"I've reinforced the line," she said eventually. "And if it's a young sea serpent I should be able to reel it in on my own."
"And what part of this Loch Ness Monster Catching System are you on then?"
"Catch trout," she said, then thought about it and shrugged. "Or cod."
She seemed to grow inpatient and brought the line in, found a new area to occupy, and cast out the line once more.
"Have we met before?" Ron asked, feeling as if he should know a girl this bizarre living in town.
"Possibly," she said, keeping her gaze on her bobber. "Have the Trencher twins been bullying you too?"
"The who?"
"Those muggle boys who live in…" she fumbled to a stop, as if realizing she had let something slip.
It took Ron a few moments to realize that she had.
"You're a witch?" Ron asked in as straightforward a manner as possible.
It was the first time that the small girl displayed an emotion other than spacey, but Ron didn't necessarily feel comfortable in seeing the fear on her face.
"I'm a wizard myself," Ron grinned brightly, jabbing his thumb in his chest to try and alleviate her nerves. "I go to Hogwarts next fall."
She still appeared flighty, but made eye contact with those blue haunting orbs.
"I've another year to wait, myself," was her whispered answer.
"All my brothers go already," Ron continued. "All in Gryffindor, too. I'll probably end up there. You know where you're likely to go?"
Just as the little girl was about to answer, a loud splash and shouting echoed throughout the foggy space around them.
"Hey, it's that Loony girl!" a tall boy appeared from behind a large tree. Ron didn't like the smirk that was on his face. "Whatcha up to, Loony? Fishing for some friends?"
The girl's pale face suddenly flooded with a bright blush. Ron didn't make a move; he wouldn't leave but didn't want to pick a fight with a kid who had to be close to Percy's age. The boy was at least a foot taller than him and Ron didn't fancy adding to his injuries list.
"Hey Loony!" a second boy appeared, nearly identical in looks to the first. "Long time no see. That's a mighty pretty dress you're wearing."
Ron had to wonder if the pair hadn't practiced those creepy grins on each other to make them that perfectly unsettling.
"That was a compliment, Loony; manners say you should thank Timmy," the first boy said, strolling over to the girl.
"Thank you," she flushed darker, keeping her gaze downcast.
"Why don't you keep walking," Ron finally spoke up, feeling residual anger from his altercation with Fred and George earlier crop up.
"Why Loony, looks like you did wrangle yourself a friend!" Timmy feigned surprise, joining his brother's side. "Can you believe it, Tommy?"
"First she's ever had, I imagine," Tommy scoffed.
"Wow, your names are Tommy and Timmy?" Ron jeered, unable to stop the surge of protectiveness he felt towards the girl. "I hope they're family names; I'd hate to think your parents were just too lazy to bother naming two kids."
"Go take a hike, ya git," Timmy scowled over at him. "Unless you want us to decorate your face some more."
"My brothers said it needed some help," Ron smiled wider. Bill had taught him a long time ago that the best way to verbally spar with a bully was to make fun of yourself before they could. "If you just wanna go for the right side and even me out, it'd be doing me a favor."
Ron wondered if Fred and George's hit hadn't caused him brain damage; he struggled to dredge up an adequate reason as to why he was instigating these bullies to protect the weirdest little girl he'd ever met.
"I'll do you a favor," Tommy strode forward. Ron didn't like the fact that it only took four mighty steps to be right in front of him. "Get out of here and I won't hurt you. There's your favor."
"If you'd just hit me and leave, that'd do me a greater favor. The less my friend and I and, frankly, any other human being with working eyes see of you two, the better."
It wasn't a great surprise to anyone present (aside from Loony, perhaps), when the punch landed a second later. Ron fell onto his back, face stinging fiercely.
"I said go for the right side!" Ron didn't back down, even from his compromising position. "Geez, didn't someone teach you the difference between left and right, or were the few brain cells you share too busy trying to remember your names?"
"Leave him alone!" Loony shouted, but Tommy ignored her as he hauled Ron back up to his feet by the front of his jumper.
"Get out of here, you little twerp!" Tommy shoved him, treating Ron as less of a threat and more of a pest.
Ron stumbled but kept on his feet.
"You shouldn't have done that," Ron said dangerously.
"What're you gonna do about it?" Timmy sneered, coming to stand at his brother's side once more.
"JACK!" Ron shouted at the top of his voice.
The twins looked at each other nervously, but when nothing happened they cackled before advancing on the redhead.
"JACK!"
Suddenly, from out of nowhere sprung a creature most vicious. It had the head of a mighty lion with blood-covered teeth, the body of a goat, and a long dangerous dragon tail trailing behind it. Both bullies screamed in utter terror and Loony fainted on the spot by the riverbank.
"Attack, Jack!" Ron urged the beast onwards.
Jack roared, blood spraying over the quivering brothers, before launching itself right at the still teens—
"And then Jack the Chimaera swallowed Tommy and Timmy and the weird little girl whole—!"
"Hugo!" Ron shouted, clearly consternated that his story had been hijacked by his son. "I said no Chimaeras in this story."
"Just thought I'd try to give it some appeal," Hugo shrugged.
"I thought it was a good effort, squirt," Charlie flicked the end of his nose with his half-finger.
Ron leaned forward to pinch playfully at Hugo's arm. He squealed, digging into his sister's side for protection.
"Now, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…"
"Why don't you open you ears, you great prat!" Ron shouted, wincing at the pain radiating from the left side of his face. "I'm not going anywhere! And, for the love of Merlin, can you aim for the right side this time?"
"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" it was Timmy's turn to approach him. "What's wrong with you?"
"I really am an idiot with an asymmetrical face at the moment," Ron said, as if it were a mundane announcement. "And the only thing wrong with me is that you're picking on a little girl who's like half your age and with more smarts than the both of you combined."
"We're good friends with Loony, you little troll," Tommy stepped forward menacingly. The way he said friends made it sound more threatening than the gesture of cracking his knuckles, which he did a moment later. "We could be your friend instead, though; you seem very keen on winning us over."
"You could tie a steak around your necks and still wouldn't find a dog in town to be friends with you," Ron rose to his feet once more, willing to get a few more good verbal jabs in before these kids physically killed him. "I'm not even sure how you put up with each other, really."
"Oh, he's there, Tommy," Timmy marched forward, looking particularly fearsome. Ron held his ground even when his brain was screaming at him to run far away. "He's about to become my best friend."
"Don't tell your mum; it'll break her heart," Ron couldn't help the insult slide past his lips. Honestly, he couldn't help it with a setup like that.
Timmy's fist hit true, and Ron was on his back for the second time in as many minutes. His ears were ringing but he smiled up at the two bullies towering over him.
"Thank you," he didn't move from his spot, but continued grinning at the now confused twins. "Finally got the right side of my face. Bit sad to think of how long it took to get to this point."
Bit sad that it got to this point, Ron couldn't help but think. He hoped Loony had run off back to her house or whatever strange dwelling she inhabited. And he really hoped Fred and George weren't the ones to find his body. These idiotic Trencher twins might murder him, but the only twins Ron feared were the ones that lived under his own roof, and it was unpleasant to think of the many ways they would use and abuse his corpse.
"It's so hard to find good thugs these days," he finished, his famous last words.
"Oh, you've found 'em," Tommy sneered.
"No! Don't hurt him!"
Everyone ignored Loony and Ron frantically dodged Timmy's leg when it swung out at his side. Unfortunately Tommy's foot was waiting on the other side and Ron grunted when it connected with his arm.
"Please don't! Please stop it!"
They didn't; Tommy grabbed the back of Ron's shirt and lifted him bodily. He held the abused redhead by the arms and Timmy smirked, taking his sweet time and relishing his victim's predicament.
"Any last words, best friend?"
"I've already said them, and now you've ruined that moment for me," Ron spat, annoyed at how long this was taking. Fred and George would've been done and gone for a broom ride by now.
"Weird choice," Timmy actually appeared perplexed for a moment before sinking his fist into Ron's unprotected stomach.
Ron hissed, drawing his knees up on reflex, but Tommy held on firmly. It wasn't surprising, given the fact that the kid was the size of a troll.
"Stop it! Stop!"
When Timmy pulled his fist back, readying himself for round two, Ron shut his eyes. He had a suspicious feeling it was going to go as well as round one had.
"STOP!"
The hairs on the back of Ron's neck stood up and a chill ran down his spine. He blinked his eyes open and gaped in surprise.
Timmy was in the river.
"What the…" Tommy appeared as dumbfounded as the redhead. The twin held on for a moment in stunned silence before promptly dropping him.
"You're a freak, Loony!" he shouted out as he rushed over to the water, not really fancying jumping in after him considering how cold it was.
"Come on!" the blonde little girl appeared before him, looking frantic, still wearing his threadbare coat backwards. She reached down and tugged at his uninjured arm. "Come, please!"
"You threw that kid in the river," Ron stated, not sure he was able to get over the fact even as he stood painfully and ran away with her from the scene. "You threw him in the river."
"I didn't mean to!" the girl wailed, close to tears. "It was an accident, I swear it!"
"Are you kidding? That was wicked!"
The smile that wanted to break out on Ron's face turned into a painful grimace. Those Trencher twins really had evened his face out nicely.
"Thanks," she gave a sad smile at seeing him hurt.
They ran for a few more minutes, until certain they were far enough away that they felt safe.
"I'm sorry," Ron panted out, wincing when he tested his punched stomach with gentle fingers. "About what those bullies said. I hope they don't bug you for that."
"If they do I'll toss them in the river again," she replied so seriously Ron stopped in the middle of a laugh to nod, mostly to boost her confidence. "They were very mean to you and I'm sorry."
"S'not your fault, I literally asked for it," he rubbed his arm self-consciously. If his entire head weren't pulsating so acutely he would wonder if the last 10 minutes had all been a very elaborate daydream.
"I better get home before my dad worries about me," she said, taking off his jacket and holding it out for him to take.
Ron grabbed it and she turned to leave, as if the whole underage magic, Loch Ness Monster, bully-infested incident hadn't been the most exciting part of her day.
Then again…perhaps it hadn't. She had been fishing for the Loch Ness Monster, after all. Who knew what kind of mythical creature she had been after before breakfast.
"You forgot your fishing pole," he called after her, noticing her bare hands.
"I don't need it anymore," she cried out, not stopping.
"Why not?"
She turned on the spot abruptly, eyes impossibly wide as she took in his battered appearance.
"I've got something better."
"Better than the Loch Ness Monster?"
"Better, yes."
"What's better than the Loch Ness Monster?" Ron asked incredulously.
She seemed to struggle as she swayed on the spot, making her dress swish by her knees. A soft blush was forming on her face as she broke into a shy grin.
"A friend."
Ron opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say, but he ran out of time. She squealed before rushing away in her bright red boots, making Ron feel as perplexed in her parting as he had on her arrival.
It took a solid minute of standing there, still open-mouthed, before realizing he hadn't even learned her real name.
"Who was she, Dad?" Rosie asked when the story was completed.
"Was she a ghost?" Hugo rose an eyebrow suspiciously and crossed his arms.
"It was Luna, and no she wasn't a ghost," Ron rolled his eyes at the suggestion.
"No way," Charlie's mouth dropped and his eyes looked distinctly Luna-like as he gazed at Ron before breaking out in fits of undignified laughter. "That crazy little girl was Luna Lovegood?"
"Who's Luna Lovegood?' Rosie asked, looking alarmed at her cackling uncle.
"Luna Scamander," Ron cleared up the confusion. "Auntie Luna, you know."
"That crazy little girl was Auntie Luna?" it was Hugo's turn to burst out laughing. "That's so weird!"
"Yes, it was all very weird," Ron said, rising from his spot on the crowded bed. "A very accurate explanation, if I do say so myself. And with that rather weird story out of the way, and considering the fact that it is midnight and your mum would kill me if she knew you were up this late, it is time for bed."
"Aw, come on, tell us more Auntie Luna stories," Hugo pleaded, knowing his father's ultimate weak spot.
Ron teetered on the edge of proper parenting and the proper storytelling technique of the few Luna stories he had in his arsenal before Charlie stood to intervene.
"Sorry kiddies, but your Uncle Charlie has been a poor influence on your father and it's time I put him to bed."
"Can I tell you a story before you tuck me in?" Ron asked in a saccharine tone that made both his children giggle uncontrollably.
"Isn't it normally the other way around?" Charlie slapped a powerful arm on his brother's shoulder and steered him towards the door.
"It's like you don't know me at all," Ron huffed. "Good night, my children."
"Night Dad!" brother and sister got out between fits of laughter.
"Good night, my niece and nephew," Charlie said melodramatically, forcing Ron into a bow before performing one himself. "It has been an honor and a privilege regaling you with our stories tonight."
"I don't know what that means—!" Hugo got out as Charlie and Ron left the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
They looked to each other with smug grins and shook each other's hands in a congratulatory manner.
"Always nice having you around, Charlie," Ron said, taking to the stairs.
"Always nice hearing you got your arse handed to you by some bratty Muggles," Charlie chortled, squeezing his brother's shoulder.
"It had its…benefits."
"What kind of…" Charlie drifted off, looking as if an epiphany had just struck him. "You told Mum it was Fred and George who did that to you!"
Ron grinned impishly and practically marched down the steps with glee, not bothering to skip the squeaky ones. Charlie elbowed him in the ribs on their way.
"She was so mad at them; they had a chores list a mile long for a month!" Charlie exclaimed in awe.
"They deserved it; they threw angry bowtruckles at my face!"
"Remind me not to get on ickle Ronnie's bad side!"
Ron made to head towards his own bedroom, which happened to be Percy's old one, but was halted by Charlie's broad arm linking with his own.
"Come take a walk with me, brother of mine," he drawled, practically forcing him down into the living room. "We need to have a discussion."
"Sounds serious," Ron smirked, taking a seat on the couch.
"It's about Harry."
Ron stared at his second oldest brother, whose expression turned uncharacteristically grave.
"Please don't hurt me," Ron held up his hands defensively. "Even with half a finger missing I'm still certain you could seriously maim me."
"I know I could seriously maim you, but I'm not going to hurt you. Harry, on the other hand, needs some serious sense beaten into him. Ginny and I have concocted a new plan."
"Oh boy," Ron sighed, not sure whatever this plan was would be a better idea than having Charlie attack him. "The criminal masterminds of the family; I can hardly wait to hear it."
"It's quite ingenious, actually," Charlie's eyes lit up in amusement once more, and Ron was glad to see it. "Get every member of the family to confront him about ignoring you, then hold him down while you have a nice reconciling chat."
"No, I was wrong, I think I could've waited to hear that," Ron rubbed his eyes. "I'm not sure how you didn't lose your entire hand if this is your ingenious idea of conflict resolution."
"We're ready to implement the plan the second Harry returns from his mission, Ronnie. There's no point in fussing over it now, so stiff upper lip, eh?"
He took a glance at the family clock hanging on the wall and rose an eyebrow when Ron frowned. Harry's hand was ticking idly between Home and Mortal Peril.
"See? Ginny's probably shouting at him as we speak. Poor stiff. If he weren't being a git I'd feel bad for him. No one really deserves our sister's tirade.
"Now you sit tight, ickle Ronniekins; once Harry is properly restrained I will call for you."
Charlie waved cheekily before Flooing over to Harry and Ginny's home. Ron felt exasperated; he was mostly annoyed by this unwanted familial devotion, he wasn't anticipating a talk with Harry in front of an audience, and he definitely didn't want that audience to consist of Charlie and Ginny, easily his most hot-headed siblings.
He slouched forward, placing his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Closing his eyes, he wondered how upset Charlie might get if he decided to go to bed instead of wait for his inevitable return.
He jumped when said older brother was spit out of the fireplace a minute later. So much for his brilliant escape plan.
"Little bugger wasn't there," Charlie explained his sudden return. "Guess we'll have to save the reunion for tomorrow, eh?"
"Does Ginny know where he's at?" Ron asked, an inkling of concern worming its way into his heart.
"Before this whole mess started I'd say your house. Now I've gotta guess at one of the many Weasleys who want a piece of him," he replied with a wink, jutting his thumb at the clock. "I'm off to let Mum and Dad know I'm still lurking about their house."
"At this hour?" an unsettling feeling was beginning to form in Ron's gut.
"They'll worry otherwise. They often forget the fact that all of their children are grown adults who have been able to take care of themselves for the past quarter of a century."
"Not about Mum and Dad," Ron said. "I mean about Harry. You really think he's with Bill, Percy, or George at this time of night?"
"Morning," Charlie corrected, pointing at the clock that read ten after midnight. The expression on his face, though, seemed to fall in concern. "You want to go look for him?"
"I have a bad feeling," Ron confided, looking back to Harry's hand on the family clock. "I think he's at my house."
"Why on earth would he go there?"
Ron chewed on his bottom lip anxiously, thinking. His mind, which was so ready for sleep a few minutes ago, now felt in overdrive.
"What did Ginny say when you talked to her?"
"That he never showed up for dinner. But he's been on that mission all week, so she assumed it'd been extended."
Ron thought about what Nigel had told him earlier, that Harry had run into trouble during his mission, and about what he knew so well about his best friend, that he never failed before to send an owl to his boss, wife, and best friend if he was running late.
He had initially felt insulted at thinking he was the only one left out of the Harry Potter updates, but now that he knew Ginny hadn't received word from him either, all he felt was exceedingly sick, especially when his parents' never-fail clock continued ticking Harry's hand stolidly between Home and Mortal Peril.
"I know that face," Charlie said. "Bad things tend to happen when you make that face, Ron."
Ron shook his head, his stomach in knots. Everything about the situation screamed impending doom, and Ron didn't really like to think about how often in the past year alone that he had felt that way. Instead of voicing his thoughts, however, he repeated the basest statement his mind would supply.
"I have a bad feeling."
A/N: This whole chapter just got out of hand. Seriously, seriously out of hand. Cameos GALORE, Ron has become a human punching bag, my first Luna dialogue attempt, and a horrible cliffhanger that's bound to make you all upset with me. Not to mention the fact that this chapter is looooong! Not as long as last chapter, but still looooong!
And so soon after birthday drama you get post-birthday drama. What a fun chapter I leave you with.
A special thanks to those (many of you) who have taken to favoriting my story or myself recently. It seems every day this week I've opened up my inbox to find someone new is following and/or favoriting. You guys are great! I hope this chapter makes your day like your favoriting and reviewing makes mine!
I've got finals on the horizon (in like two weeks), and as soon as those have been surmounted get ready for the next chapter! I can't leave you with a cliffhanger this mean for too long! I love you guys too much for that!
Until the next time then!
~dieselwriter