In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 90: Ron 17
Harry woke Saturday to the bit of light that crept into the window, rolled over onto his elbows, right leg hooked over Ron's; Hermione to the other side. Eyelids beneath that red hair, the eyelashes that moved, above the freckled face, eyelids that fluttered to reveal the blue eyes beneath them, eyes that focused onto Harry's.
"Happy birthday," Harry said.
"Make it happy," Ron thought, "Let me sleep."
Harry rolled back over, kissed Gia, and climbed over her. He went to Hedwig, stroked several feathers, gave her an owl treat. Orange moved, Crookshanks jumped, took the spot Harry had been on the bed, rolled over into Ron. Harry went out of the room, across into Richard's bedroom.
"Ready?" Harry asked.
"You overslept," Richard said.
Harry grabbed a loose bit of paper, aimed his wand. Richard held it, closed his eyes. A jerk behind the naval, they were pulled away, dropped by trees on a footpath, one that went into a thicket of bushes.
"Not sure," Richard said.
Trees brushed to either side as they ran into it.
"Haven't told my Mum it's Ron's birthday?" Richard asked.
"She'd…" Harry stopped. He knew the reaction, the offer to drive.
"One word and she'd relent," Richard said, "Starts with the letter M."
"I can't go deliberately spilling it," Harry said.
"As much as people shouldn't go deliberately trying to kill you?" Richard asked.
"If only I knew who was causing problems," Harry said, "I don't mean Voldemort, I mean which Death Eaters are in on it."
"Capture one," Richard said, "Invite them for tea."
"If that'd work," Harry said, "No, they…Voldemort doesn't trust them. A couple are in on it, not everybody."
"Aw," Richard said.
"One name," Harry said, "That's all I need to crack it."
They ran.
"One moment," Harry said as they huffed, a bit exhausted a half hour after they started, "Here. I'll come next."
Harry activated his Portkey, dropped it into Richard's hand. Harry thought about it, disapparated, only to apparate at Waterloo. A fast run, Harry went to the newsstand, handed over a couple of pound coins, picked up the Daily Sport, went for a fast stroll into the crowd coming off the platform, disapparated.
"Morning," said Ron, spread out on the bed, The Daily Prophet before him, Crookshanks behind him.
"Peruse," Harry said, putting down the Daily Sport, "Don't tell Hermione."
"Huh?" Ron flipped the pages, his eyebrows raised. "Interesting."
"See?" Harry sat next to Ron, pointed to two topless girls, "Think this one has implants."
Ron went through those pages slow, took his time with each picture. Harry went over, stroked the feathers of Hedwig; he sat down, reached, scratched behind Crookshanks' ears.
"Swimming?" Harry asked, "Need your swim suit."
Ron shrugged as he closed the paper. Harry took that paper, buried it into the stack of others. Ron stood, stretched.
"Sure," Ron said.
"Public pool," Harry said.
They left the bedroom a short bit later, went down the steps. Wands out, the disillusionment and SEP; they went out the house.
"Gia would be nice," Harry said, "She can't apparate."
"Yet we're walking," Ron said.
Harry jumped, avoided the car in the zebra crossing. A duck around others, a left, a right, a few more, they came to the Noigate Public Pool, walked around the attendant, and entered. Changed, into the water, they swam for hours.
…
Harry and Ron were still in the water several hours after they had started, when Harry slowed down.
"Need to…" Harry said, eyes on the clock, ticking late into the morning.
Harry pushed, got out of the water, Ron used the ladder. Water off their swim–suits, dripped.
"Getting something to eat," Ron stated, "You too, my birthday."
Harry and Ron went into the locker rooms, changed and left the pool. Both renewed their charms, walked. An eye out for canary yellow, one burger restaurant had zero canary yellow in or around it, and they entered.
"One double bacon cheeseburger, extra brown sauce," Ron said to the teenage girl behind the register, "A single little hamburger. Chips, a large, and two milkshakes, for here."
Harry handed over a ten pound note, ignored the change, caught a glance from the cook behind the serving bar rushing to the grill.
"Heh!" complained another customer, "Where's my food?"
"Sam," the lady with him said, "Please be considerate."
Harry and Ron sat at a table, waited. Ron put his hands behind his head.
"Last year…" Ron muttered.
Harry read it in those blue eyes, that they've had a big adventure since then, another year together.
"HEY!" same complained, "I wanted BROWN sauce, this ketchup is unacceptable."
Harry watched the girl behind the counter take from their tray, handed it to Sam.
"See if this lives up to…need…one moment," Sam got up, went to the lavatory.
"Yours," the girl said, setting down a tray.
Harry went over, grabbed the tray, and carried it back to Ron. Sam returned, ate into his double cheeseburger at the same time Ron began to nibble at his.
"Eat," Ron said to Harry.
"I…" Harry stalled, as he heard the choke.
A turn of Harry's head, Harry smacked the burger out of Ron's fingers as Sam collapsed.
"SAM!" screamed the lady with him.
Sam's head hit the floor, the face turned blue, and no other motion came from him.
"HELP!" the lady screamed.
That girl behind the counter rushed over to Sam.
"CALL 999!" the girl shouted to the kitchen.
"He was fine until he ate your burger!" the lady exclaimed, "What did you do—?"
"They should be fine!" the girl protested.
Harry spotted it, the cook that darted past them all, in a fast run, and went out the door. Harry ran, chased after that man, the cook, and tackled him to the pavement in the middle of the road.
"What did you do?" Harry demanded.
A glint of steel under the cook's belt; Harry wrestled the cook, removed the knife, and threw it aside toward Ron. Harry stared into the cook's eyes, the opportunity to collect the bounties.
"Figures," Harry muttered as the flashing blue lights approached.
Harry recognized Frank coming up, fast from that police cruiser. Harry stood.
"He poisoned the food," Harry stated to Frank, finger pointed.
"How'd you—?" the cook demanded.
"You're certain?" Frank asked as he pulled the cook up.
"I am," Harry stated.
Another officer went into the restaurant with the paramedics. Frank detained the cook in handcuffs. Harry sat on the curb, Ron next to him.
"Sam's insistence," Harry said, "He ate the one intended for you. Glad I didn't take a bite?"
"Not the reason," Ron said, "He's worked here, certainly—"
"Opportunist," Harry said, "Cook recognized us, added rat poison."
Paramedics carted off a gurney, a white sheet draped over Sam.
"Before you do anything—" Ron started.
"Jumping to conclusions!" Harry snapped.
"Cook's the one who did it, not you," Ron said, "Want you to remember that."
Harry glanced at the bank clock.
"Got other things to do," Harry said.
Harry touched his Portkey against Ron's skin, the jerk, they landed on their rears in the living room of Lupin's manor.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" shouted a chorus of people.
Fireworks flashed, the lights, the sounds; Harry waited for the spots to go away before he stood up. Harry pulled Ron upright, to stand before the crowd. A crowd of people peered on, beneath the banners and confetti raining down.
In the center on the arm chair, Albus Dumbledore. However, lining the room, Hermione, Gia, and Ginny among a sea of red haired Weasleys.
"Percy?" Fred asked.
Percy, in a pinstripe suit, walked decisive and quick, went for Harry and Ron, pulled them aside.
"We need to talk," Percy whispered.
Harry and Ron followed Percy up the stairs, into an empty loo. Ron turned, aimed at the door.
"Imperturbment," Ron explained.
"You're not supposed to—" Percy started.
"I'm of age—TODAY!" Ron said.
"We need precautions," Harry said, "Enough incidents to prove that."
"Clear you're both in a mess with legislation," Percy said, "Money flowed to buy it. Your gift Ron is being owled, it's the last I can get my hands on—the missing one being the Minister's personal handbook."
"Ta," Ron said.
Harry unsure if Ron was being sincere or not.
"Now, hiring's also getting suspicious," Percy said, "I'll have to show you, later, as the documents aren't with me."
"Thank you," Harry said.
"Happy Birthday," Percy said to Ron, "Now that you're of age, keep your head."
Ron grinned.
"Now excuse me," Percy said, "Need to get back to that audit, had to pull an all nigher already."
Ron waved his wand, the door opened, to show Tonks to the other side.
"An Imperturbment charm on the loo?" Tonks asked.
"Should be glad we used it," Harry said.
Ron chuckled, followed Harry down the stairs. Harry spotted Percy walking across the living room, for the balcony.
"Hi Perc—" Fred started.
Percy disapparated.
"How rude," George said.
"At least he came," Arthur said.
Flaming red hair, Ginny stepped to Ron, extended her hand diplomatically.
"Happy birthday brother," Ginny said as she leaned forward.
Ron shook her hand as the lights dimmed. A cake levitated out, the song that came from everybody else's lips, and Harry watched Ron's face go red. Ron blew out the candles, candles that exploded into fireworks.
"Happy birthday Ronald," Dumbledore said as he reached for the knife.
"Albus!" McGonagall snapped.
Ron reached and grabbed the knife. He sliced off two pieces onto plates, handed one each to Dumbledore and McGonagall.
"Thoughtful Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said.
"Which Mr. Weasley?" George asked.
"The mature one," McGonagall said, "Ronald."
"We're disappointed," Fred said.
Fred walked after McGonagall. Hermione reached, held Ron, kissed.
"Get a room," George said, smile on his face, to Ron and Hermione.
"It's my birthday," Ron said, "We'll bang right here, dammit!"
Harry noticed the glances at Ron and Hermione. Harry mingled.
"Harry," said Charlie, the red haired, the white shorts and T–shirt.
"Instead of brooms," Harry said, "Can we ride dragons for Quidditch?"
"Sure," Charlie said, "Fireproof the stadium, have no grass, and keep plenty of burn ointment on hand."
Harry snorted.
"Also have to convince the dragons it'd be fun," Charlie said, "Can you do that without roasting the spectators and the players?"
Harry turned, spotted a man in silver hair, one he hadn't seen before, one with calluses on his fingers, along with various cuts to the skin. Harry unsure to the man, before the call came.
"PRESENTS!" Ginny demanded.
Harry turned, eyes toward the flaming red haired girl. Ron went toward the small collection of boxes, went into one box with its assortment of chocolate frogs, more sweets.
"Easier going in as a group," said Mr. Weasley.
"Except us," Fred said as Ron reached for a long thin package next to a book shaped one.
Harry recognized the shape.
"One moment Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall.
A glance to her eyes, the deception that brewed with in.
"It was a pleasure with this party," Dumbledore said, "Ginny, you need to use the fireplace with us. Nymphaodora too."
"Huh?" Ron asked.
"We are not allowed to be party to deliberate violations of any recently passed legislation," McGonagall said.
Harry glanced at Ron.
"We're not supposed to have them," Harry thought.
"I…what?" Ron replied.
"You that thick?" Harry snapped.
McGonagall, Dumbledore, Tonks, and Ginny went into the fireplace, handfuls of Floo Powder, all vanished.
"Now that they're gone," Bill said, "Let's see."
That silver haired man in silver stood nearby, Harry glanced at him, the bemusement, the anticipation. Ron, though, already had his fingers into the packaging, revealed two broomsticks, small ones.
"Follow," said the silver haired man in silver.
Harry caught the grin, the recognition of that man, by Charlie.
"It's fine," George said, "Downstairs."
Harry and Ron went down the steps, down into the Practice Hall. Fred, George, and the man in silver followed. On two pedestals, covered in a solid gray, including the twigs, were brooms, one bore the black etching of Ronald Weasley, the other Harry Potter.
"I'm Devlin Whitehorn," the man said, extending his hand to Harry first, to Ron second.
Harry unsure if Ron's mind processed this.
"Happy Birthday," Fred said.
"Yeah, what he said," George said, "Go ahead Ron, try it."
Ron reached for his, leg over it, the gray vanished to reveal the golden brown, that of a Firebolt, and he flew up, back down.
"It's…" Ron started.
"Not a Firebolt, not exactly," Whitehorn said, "It's the prototype, it'll outperform the Firebolt II, though be careful, no safety charms are on it, this one will break your neck, kill you, if you're not careful."
"And…" Harry reached, however, it jumped up into Harry's hand, red sparks shot out the end. Grey became holly wood.
"That's not a broom," Whitehorn said, "Not the same as his, that's an experiment."
"It's…?" Harry asked.
"These two aren't the same," Whitehorn said, "Yours isn't legal for professional Quidditch."
"It's not?" Harry asked.
"It's symbiotic like a wand," Whitehorn said, "It's core is phoenix feather."
"Think I know which one," Harry said.
"It binds to you," Whitehorn said, "Should be jinx resistant, though not completely sure about that."
Harry swung his leg over the broom, it took him up, lapped the hall effortlessly, and he came back down. Whitehorn handed Harry a note.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Dear Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley,
Your brooms will identify as wands.
Mr. Ollivander
Harry showed Ron the letter, which caught fire and disintegrated to ash.
"What'd that mean?" Ron asked.
Harry unsure.
"Oh," George said, "He'll happily replace these if you shove those handles up You–Know–Who's arse."
"Never promised…" Whitehorn said.
"We'll cover," Fred promised.
"We fly," Ron said, "Thank you."
"Thank you," Harry said to Whitehorn.
"Get rid of a certain dark wizard and we'll call it even," said Whitehorn said.
Harry and Ron carried their brooms, up the stairs. Fred, George, and Whitehorn followed them up into the living room.
"Whoa," Charlie said, "Can we?"
Ron held it up, waited for Bill and Mr. Weasley to inspect it.
"Your doing?" Mr. Weasley asked Fred, George, "Good thinking of your brother."
"About profit," George said, "They need them to stay alive, keep business booming."
Arthur Weasley sighed.
"Must've cost—" Hermione started.
"Gryffindor Seeker's looking good," Fred said.
"We're flying home," Ron announced.
"That's—" Mr. Weasley started.
"Some distance to the neighbors," Lupin said.
Ron handed his Portkey over to Hermione. Harry leaned, kissed Gia.
"Guess this is it," Bill said, extended his hand to Ron, "Congratulations."
Charlie shook Ron's hand. Bill disapparated first, Charlie went for the fireplace. Arthur Weasley lifted Edward, went for the fireplace.
"Watching you fly them," Fred said.
Harry aimed at the french door, they opened, and gestured. Ron went first, flew up into the evening air. Harry followed.
"This is—great!" Ron said, accelerating.
"Disillusion!" Harry snapped.
Wands in hand, Ron applied the charms, like Harry did, and they flew along the inlet, over the boats moving in, lights against the blackness. Harry edged faster than Ron, pulled back to keep level.
"It's…these are different?" Ron asked.
"Don't think of it like that," Harry said, "Both experimental, like he'd do the same thing twice."
"Aw," Ron said.
Harry kept an eye on the motorway below, and flew upward, until they hugged the clouds.
"Not too much more," Ron said.
"Cardiff?" Harry asked as he pointed at the large glow of lights.
"Maybe," Ron said.
Harry flew over the water, toward the lights in the distance; Ron followed.
"Hope you know where we're heading," Ron said.
"Worse case, apparate," Harry said.
"That's no fun," Ron said.
Harry flew more, another sea of lights below. Harry spotted a motorway, the busy thing, with a string of red tail lights.
"This way," Harry said, as they followed that motorway.
Darkness with that string, a smaller sea of night street lamps, and headed along.
"It's east," Harry said, "Which we need."
"You're sure?" Ron asked.
"Best guess," Harry said.
Harry flew down for that string of cars, Ron followed, close enough above it, and cars honked. Harry's wand out, reapplied his Disillusionment and SEP. Harry read the boards, flew back up.
"Reading now," Harry said, "That's the M-4, it'll get us there."
More flying, a right at the junction, and Ron followed Harry.
"How fast can that go?" Ron asked.
"Dunno," Harry said, "Making better time than we would with our old brooms."
"Yeah," Ron said.
Lights became familiar, and Harry went back down, the signs.
"HERE!" Harry shouted.
A right, over the country club, the cemetery, Harry recognized it, the familiar Oak Street, the footpath over to Pine Court, and he settled down by the upstairs window of 26 Oak Street. Hedwig to the other side, and Harry slid the window open.
HOOT!
Hedwig flew out, landed on Harry's shoulder, and he flew into the bedroom. Ron flew in, shut the window.
"Well," Ron said, "They work."
"These are…good," Harry said, "Now…"
Words came back to Harry, the letter, the broom identified as a wand. A thought, Harry banished his broom.
"Harry!" Ron shouted.
Harry opened his wand holster, next to his Holly wand, a fourth loop had been added, a miniature broom. Harry summoned it, the broom jumped out, expanded to full size before him. A banish back, the broom jumped back into the holster.
"That's what it meant," Harry said.
Ron focused, took a few minutes, his did the same, into the holster, back out, before it settled back into the wand holster.
"Gia's—?" Harry started.
"Best be careful," Hermione said, "Kristen's in the living room."
"Brooms work excellent," Ron said.
Harry disapparated, apparated down in the living room, behind Gia. Harry leaned over the sofa, kissed Gia.
Date: Sun Oct 1 05:46:28 2023