Chapter 4

Hogwarts, A Mystery

Harry was bloody scary. He had always sort of known that, even though he'd always been on the fun side of it at school. Harry had never been a bully and so he had never thought about it in terms of Harry being someone that anyone who didn't bloody deserve it would be terrified of, even when it involved Malfoy cacking his pants over the Hippogriff or realizing just what it meant that his best mate had gone toe-to-toe with an ancient basilisk and the soul of You-Know-Who at the same time and won.

Even when it was less fun – having to apologize for being an arse after Harry went wing-to-broom against a Hungarian Horntail – he'd always been Harry his best mate first, and only sort of academically (and if that wasn't Hermione rubbing off on him, nothing was) had the fact that he'd outflown a dragon meant anything in terms of how scary Harry could be if he really wanted to.

And that wasn't even considering the fact that he'd been sending You-Know-Who back beyond the veil since they were in nappies, up until the point it had broken the whole bloody world.

Being back at Hogwarts had made him a bit more subdued, a bit more world weary and a bit more Harry wary, a bit more willing to accept that he wasn't guaranteed a front row see to watching Harry dish it out to some other tosser. Daphne and Astoria now held the seats he and Hermione had once held, and presumably Tonks as well to be honest, what with her being the one he had gone and made a baby with. At least for now – cripes, it did his head in. But he'd seen the way Harry had made a show of the castle, like a master performer letting them see just what sort of power he had access to in one hand, and then hiding it away again in the other. The table alone suggested there were a lot more than just the four of them hidden away at Hogwarts, even if Harry had space for guests every now and then.

Fred and George had been into muggle magic tricks for a time, impressing some muggle bird who had worked in one of the corner shops in Ottery St Catchpole. A good thing too, as it turned out. The whole thing had struck his as rather silly at the time, but the concept of sleight-of-hand had stuck, especially when the two idiots kept making his chocolate frog cards disappear without a hint of magic, so they swore. So he had an idea that Harry was up to a similar sort of trick, with him and Hermione in the role of clueless muggle shopgirl. He didn't like that.

And he'd seen how Daphne and Astoria had played up their theatrics, noted the good-auror-bad-auror routine they had adopted; how when Hermione dropped the bludger that they knew about Harry's child, Astoria had shrieked and Daphne had growled, but Harry… well, for a tiny fraction of a second there the mask has slipped, and it had been aimed at Hermione. And Ron had wished they were anywhere but at Hogwarts right then.

Merlin, he hated this cloak-and-dagger business. He knew Hermione was trying to do the right thing because she always bloody did, but there were a lot of moving parts and bright as she was, who could say she might have missed one, might have been played by someone else along the way. They hadn't told Harry – and after how things had gone he understood why – but everyone who knew what was going on was out for Harry's blood, literally. They had dragged him back to the Wizarding World (such as it remained) with the knowledge that Malfoy was after him, but the truth was vastly more complicated. Harry's blood was special. Maybe a little, maybe a lot, but everyone believed it. He knew there were things Hermione wasn't telling him about, things he had pieced together from the Auror department, from Kingsley, from Bones, from Malfoy, all the words that went unsaid. Ron wasn't going to kill Harry, or let it come to that, and he knew Hermione wasn't either – hence the plan to go to Hogwarts to warn Harry in the first place. But he wouldn't have bet even one of his extra Agrippas that the rest of the island would be so considerate. But if they helped Harry now, maybe he'd help them too. Just a little, nothing life threatening, but maybe a little. He hoped so, anyhow.

So, right, lots of moving parts that might have already betrayed them – Ron and Hermione – which in turn might make it look like they had betrayed them – Harry and… his lady friends. Wight was more an island of future ghouls than it was future ghosts. Frankly, for a tiny island of wizards and witches it really was a bit much. Always a wand lurking to take a shot at your back, holding off only for the sake of a very shaky peace and the fear there might already be a wand ready to curse your own kidney if you struck first.

But none of that, not his feelings of forlornness about Harry or foreboding about the denizens of Wight, had prepared him to have Harry's wand at his throat, and facing down an expression that was ready to see him drop dead.

"We don't know!" Ron blurted out, not risking a look at Hermione, of seeing what she must think of him for folding at the first sign of fight from Harry. "Neville – he's a complete nutter, lives in London on his own. St Mungos probably but nobody goes into London anymore and certainly not snooping around after Longbottom. He comes to Wight every few months, keeps to himself mostly, trades some plants he's managed to keep going for whatever odds and ends he needs then buggers off again until next time. I swear, Harry, I swear that's it."

Harry kept staring at him for a minute, wand not moving away from his neck. Daphne stood beside him, her face imperious as she kept staring at Hermione, wisps of blonde hair so fair as to be almost transparent falling across her face and her robes disheveled.

"So why would he even come here at all?" Harry asked after another moment. "And why would you want him to?"

"I wrote to him," Hermione replied to his side. "I explained the situation about Malfoy and he – he said he'd help. But I didn't know he was coming here. Not until Justin mentioned it. They must have arranged that separately."

Daphne scoffed. "And why would Justin of all people call him. This place doesn't see particularly keen on purebloods."

Neither Ron nor Hermione said anything for a minute, because that was a pretty good point and Ron wasn't sure himself. A wand moving from his neck and now pushing against his chest though suggested he better come up with something to say, and quick.

"I don't know. Things are bad, Harry. Really bad. Malfoy's the most deranged but a lot of people are thinking things along the same lines though, that your blood could be the answer, that getting your blood or sacrificing you or some such rot will save everyone. Maybe Justin thought he could use Neville or the other way around. Maybe Neville caught a hint of something that Nott was up to and stayed away, I don't know! But Harry… mate, I swear. Me and Hermione we didn't bring you down here to get you blown up."

Harry let out a mirthless laugh. "No, you just brought me down here knowing a number of people wanted to try. You didn't mention this last night. Slipped your mind?"

Ron swallowed thickly. Harry let out a long hum, and Ron tensed. But then Greengrass reached over and whispered something into his hear, and bless her because Harry pulled his wand off of Ron's chest and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Harry then stepped back and cast another spell – a privacy charm of some sort. Cripes, he hadn't seen one of those in ages.

He didn't move, didn't do anything that Harry might read as a sign of ill intent. Five minutes later, whatever Harry and Daphne were discussing was over and Harry was towering over him and Hermione once more. Harry very slowly pulled out a sharp silver knife. Ron swallowed again, his throat suddenly achingly dry. But Harry merely used it to prick his own thumb, and Ron's eyes widened slightly at that – he hadn't known that Harry needed to resort to pure bloodmagic, too. Maybe Harry wasn't all powerful… and was that a blessing or a curse?

A single drop of blood fell onto the tip of Harry's wand. Then, as if time had suddenly sped up Harry snapped it towards Hermione, a bolt of red flashing into her as she tumbled in the familiar half-tense slump of the stunning spell. Ron turned slightly, needing to get a better view of his wife and thankfully, she lay there with glassy eyes and a slightly shocked expression, halfway to indignant before she had been stunned. He relaxed slightly, it could have been worse.

Harry turned back to him. Harry's wand once more pressed against his skin, now his forehead, and he stared crosseyed at it, doing his best to keep a brave face. Maybe Harry was going to kill him anyway, but at least he wouldn't piss himself.

His forehead grew pleasantly warm and he felt very dizzy.

"Did you put the tracking charm on your shoe?" Harry asked.

"Nah," Ron replied, grinning slightly as he did so. Nothing to worry about.

"Do you know who did?

"Nope."

"Do you have any idea about who it could have been."

"Haven't the foggiest." An insane idea popped in his head. "Coulda been you for all I know." He snorted, that was very funny. Harry putting a tracking charm on his shoe, ha!

"Did you know it was there?"

"Nah."

Harry stepped back, and even feeling as loopy as he did he noticed the sheen of sweat on Harry's forehead and the front of his hairline. He lolled his head over with exaggerated force to look at Daphne; she was biting her lip slightly, looking quite distressed at Harry's fatigue.

"All right, mate?" Ron managed to get out before his tongue lolled out his mouth. "Ya looh tihud."

Harry looked down at him, taking a deep breath. Ron managed a rather lopsided grin. "Weh goo maa?"

"If your answers match," Harry responded mysteriously, and Ron tried to focus but then a red beam of light hit him and the world went dark.

It took Ron thirty or so seconds when he did come to, to realize he had come to, which was a good sign. If Harry was going to kill them he could have done so when they were both stunned stupid, or even after he'd hit him with whatever that spell had been that made him feel like he'd been in the middle of a bender. Instead, he had enervated both of them, and then loosened the ropes – slightly – allowing them to sit in an equally slightly more comfortable position. At least he could see Hermione properly now, looking a little worse for the wear but no more so than him, and mostly for the shitshow that had gone down with Nott than anything Harry had done since.

"I'm sorry," Harry began without preamble when they were both more-or-less capable of listening again. He grimaced. "And I'm sorry it turned out this way. I'm going to go find Neville, and if he's involved with Nott and Malfoy I'll take care of it and then take care of them, too." He sounded very tired. "You should go back to Wight. It was good seeing you both again." A pause. "Really." Harry pulled two very familiar wands from behind his back, and Daphne looked like she was trying and failing not to look too smug.

"I'll dump these by that gate," Ron turned to see where Harry as pointing at a stone wall that lined the muggle road fifty feet away, and about one hundred paces on there was a small metal gate. "By the time you get yourselves out of the ropes, we'll be gone." He sounded a bit sad as he continued. "I'm going to collapse the Express line too – not sure where, wherever is safest from the muggles catching on, I expect." He shook his head. "Fair warning and all, please don't try and find me again another way. And send my condolences to Justin and his friends, assuming they weren't in on the plan to kill me." He looked off in the direction of Holyhead. "Went very badly for them if they did, didn't it?"

Daphne whispered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like what could you expect from Muggleborns.

Well that was a kick in the teeth, but Ron couldn't say he didn't expect it. Harry had changed, and after being threatened with having his kid murdered had almost been blown up. Hermione wouldn't get it, her expression made this clear. Her mission to save the wizarding world was her purpose to keep going – he alone wasn't enough. Which he understood, too. She wasn't enough for him, but… well, he had his mum, such as she still was, and his dad. George. Bill and Fleur, in their own way.

"Harry, wait no, you have to listen to me."

Speaking of Hermione-

"You can't, you can't." Hermione hissed, voice wet. "We have magic that can help." Harry and Daphne both looked unimpressed, although at least Harry was making some effort to hide it; and he couldn't blame them for that, either. Even if Harry did have to resort to blood magic (was that an away-from-Hogwarts thing or something more? Something to discuss with Hermione when they were out of this mess), Harry was still stupid times more powerful than literally anyone else in Britain, even a blood infused Theodore Nott. And he had powerful artifacts at his command like the Knight Bus. Oh, and Hogwarts. Can't forget Hogwarts. And at least three powerful – and ok, he wouldn't say the word out loud but fit witches following him like he was the second coming of Merlin, which maybe he was. Oh, yeah, and an actual House Elf. And dragons.

"Listen, Harry, Daphne, please." Hermione sounded frantic. "Neville is crazy. Something happened to him, he isn't all there. Come with us, please. What happened today – it won't happen again. I'll get you into the Department of Mysteries. I'll talk to Kingsley and… I'll talk to Bones, too. If you want to go after Neville, you need to know what we know." She took a breath.

Ron took over. "C'mon, mate. Give her a chance. It doesn't have to end this way."

Harry actually paused at that, though Ron wasn't sure at this point this was even a good idea, but he had to try. For Hermione. For Harry.

"The veil, too."

Harry stopped. Ron stopped as well. He knew Hermione couldn't just promise that. Kingsley and Bones would have a fit on principle. But Harry was looking at Hermione now, gaze intense, like she was the Hogwarts opening feast. Ron didn't like it.

"You rescued the veil?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Very carefully."

Harry snorted at that. Then his look turned pensive once more.

"And you can get me to it? Give me some time to study it?" He gestured to Daphne, who also looked… hungry, was the right word. "And Daphne, too?"

"Yes," Hermione said at once. Then she paused, biting her lip. "An hour, maybe two. But yes."

She paused, and Ron got the sense she was deliberately not looking at him as she continued. "I'm Chief Unspeakable."

That wasn't quite the tip top secret that it would have been before things changed, but not even a tenth of the population on Wight knew it, at least not officially. Ron kept his face blank. Hermione probably could sneak Harry and even Daphne into what passed for the Department and seek forgiveness later rather than permission, but she couldn't get them to the veil without Bones and Shack agreeing as well. There would be a heavy cost to this, and he doubted there was enough blood in their bodies to cover it.

Harry hummed again, this time though in cautious approval. He and Daphne shared another look, but they didn't go off to have another private conversation.

"I'll keep these for a little longer then," Harry declared after a time, putting their wands back inside his robes. "And we'll go meet the Minister, we'll go to Wight." His look turned shrewd. "And on the way, you can tell us all that's really been going on over the past few years." Looking almost disgusted with himself, Harry waved his wand and the ropes around him and Hermione fell away entirely and slithered off into the grass.

Ron stretched his arms and then stumbled painfully to his feet, helping Hermione as best he could. Harry raised his want and let out a fountain of silver sparks, which spiraled lazily upward for a few seconds before exploding with a dull bang like distant thunder.

"We're not going back into town, not after all that," Harry explained after a minute. "Bus will come to us."

Sure enough, not a minute later the Knight Bus came roaring down the road that was at least two times too small for it and hopped over the stone wall, coming to a halt in front of them with a soft put put put.

Harry got back onboard without a second glance back, and Daphne gave them a sardonic little bow while gesturing for the two of them to get on first. Ron sat down heavily on the bed again next to Hermione, and the way Daphne was looking at him he couldn't help but feel he was being pulled into McGonagall's office again for a tonguelashing, although for Merlin's sake he really hadn't done anything! Someone – maybe Neville, maybe not – had played them, and nearly got them killed, and probably cut off any chance of working with the muggleborns going forward, so obviously Harry and Daphne were a bit miffed by that, but so was he!

Bringing Neville into this, and going after Neville now was a bad idea. He was as certain of that as he was about the rules of Quidditch, old and new. If things kept getting cocked up he'd give serious thought to trying his luck at the French border.

"You've been keeping secrets form us," Daphne began, and held up her hand when he and Hermione both made to protest. She shook her head, hair flipping this way and that. "Don't insult me by denying it, and it's fine – we haven't been completely straightforward with you either, I'm afraid." Hermione grumbled under her breath, but Daphne ignored it. "We know a bit more about what's been going on in England than we let on," Daphne continued, "but I'm sure you can appreciate us keeping our cards close." She waved a careless hand. "We need to put that behind us."

Ron looked at the woman who was Harry's… well, whatever she was, and then looked over at Harry. Harry's eyes though were clearly on the road ahead of them, navigating with much less gusto than before.

"Luna." Hermione said a moment later, out of nowhere.

Daphne just shrugged, saying nothing more. Wait, what?

The two women just stared at each other, this was ridiculous.

"Ok, so let's move on." Ron clapped his knees as he leaned forward. "What do you want to know?"

Daphne gave him a very Slytherin smile.

Curiously, and not-at-all suspiciously, the bus ride from Holyhead to Portsmouth took exactly as long as needed for him and Hermione to answer all of Dahne's questions about the real state of things on Wight, what they knew about Neville, Malfoy, and Nott, and a few odd questions about Greengrass's old dormmates. Parkinson, dead. Moon, dead. Bullstrode, doing surprisingly well for herself all thing considered. Davis, no idea.

Even Hermione had been surprisingly forthcoming, which has surprised him. They hadn't exactly had time to get their story straight after Nott's attack, but he knew Hermione wasn't eager to share too much, and he knew there were things that he definitely wasn't talking about without prior discussion, scary Harry and his scary Greengrass be damned. They got out of it alright though, and he went up with Hermione as they went over to the muggle ticket man for the boat ride back to Wight, Daphne standing on the pier with Harry and looing like a lost bird among the hustle and bustle of the muggle crowds. Unlike the weather up north, the southern coast was threatening rain, the sky a thick, dull grey.

"I agree we didn't have a choice," she explained in a hushed, almost defeated tone as they moved forward slowly in the queue. "If what we say doesn't match with what they may already know, then we're just in deeper trouble." Ron processed that, and nodded. "And we don't know if Luna was their only agent." Ron frowned for a moment, putting two-and-two together about Hermione's apparent non-sequitur on the way out of Holyhead.

"And anyway," Hermione continued, a hint of superiority creeping back into her tone. "It's nothing we don't want them to know. It's not like they asked about the Ministry, or the Department."

Ron's frown deepened. He was pretty sure they had, in fact, mentioned the Department. It had been the very thing that got them here in the first place. And they did want Harry to know about the Department, if only to stop Malfoy.

They bought the tickets and made their way back to the other two.

"I'm surprised there isn't a wizard's ferry," Daphne remarked as Harry took their tickets form Hermione. She did not look thrilled at the idea of trusting a muggle boat to keep her out of the sea. "There used to be one to Ireland, I remember riding it once as a child."

Hermione's expression was bitter.

"We tried that, at first. The magic wasn't actually a problem, but nobody could agree on who would run it. And eventually, nobody was going to the mainland enough to even justify it." Her tone turned prim. "It was more sensible to utilize existing muggle infrastructure."

Daphne looked at the ferry with a look of extreme skepticism on her face. "I see."

And to think he'd actually been having an alright time back at Hogwarts, compared to this. He couldn't even go off with Harry to commiserate the women sniping at one another, because who could say which side Harry would come down on?

It started to drizzle, which gave him an excuse to hurry onboard, staring out the window at choppy waves that foamed up the selfsame window until they arrived at Ryde. Here at least, they did have magical transportation waiting for them. One of Britain's very last, and now very legal if only used for special occasions, magic carpets.

"An Axminster!" Daphne exclaimed in genuine delight, clapping her hands at the faded and wellworn carpet. "My grandfather enchanted these you know, before they were banned. Oh, how marvelous!" She turned and gave Harry a very toothy smile. "I've always wanted to ride one, I heard so much about them!"

Harry though looked a little more skeptical at the Axminster that was more patch that rug. "It works?"

Hermione nodded. "It does." She also looked a little squeamish. "We don't use it very often. But Kingsley left it for us in case you came with us, as a show of support."

Harry looked ready to argue the point, but in the end just shrugged. "Let's get on with it then," He offered his hand to a still beaming Daphne, who stepped up onto the rug and sat herself down in the middle like a queen on her throne, her hands rubbing small circles into the fabric. Indulgently, Harry sat down next to her. After a moment's pause, Ron sat down across from Harry and Hermione followed a moment later, finishing off their little circle.

The ride wasn't particularly long, just a few miles really, sailing over muggle farms and bungalows between Ryde and Newport. They never flew higher than necessary, slowly floating by just above the muggles and the hedgerows. Hardly after they'd taken off, they landed between a muggle shop that sold furniture and a building that housed muggle carriages. The carpet flew off without them back towards where Ron knew Kingsley lived as soon as they had stepped back on firm ground of the muggle alley.

It was much less posh of an entranceway than London. He knew that was part of the reason for the magic carpet to be honest; to at least show Harry that magic still existed here. Notice-me-not charms were still one of the most stable charms still in operation, thank Merlin, but he knew Hermione and Kingsley had fretted about it, before deciding the show of force was necessary, just in case.

The drizzle was still falling but hadn't gotten any worse when they landed. Nonetheless, Harry casually threw an Impervious charm on himself and Daphne, while Hermione pulled out two cagoules from her bag and handed one to Ron, who took it without comment and a little envy.

"It's getting late," Hermione said as she looked around at the small number of muggles still in the streets. "Why don't we head over to Molly and Arthur's for the evening, if that's alright?"

Harry and Daphne shared a look.

"We can find our own lodgings, if you prefer," Daphne offered, sounding like she very much would prefer exactly that.

"There's plenty of room," Ron said, trying to sound cheery. "Well, there's room at any rate. Mum and Dad would be happy to see you, it's really no trouble. Everyone would."

Well, they might not care for Daphne, but needs must.

Harry shrugged. "I supposed that will do." A small smile broke across his face. "I've missed your mum and dad, it'll be nice to see them again." Daphne didn't look particularly pleased, but didn't argue with Harry.

Ron gave him back a shaky grin. He'd see if Harry felt that way after visiting.

Hermione made a noise of agreement, and Ron pressed forward. "Stay for dinner at least. Mum always makes too much." She made enough for the whole Weasley clan as if it were still whole and hearty.

Daphne finally nodded to Harry and Ron led them deeper into the alley they had landed in. Pulling out his wand, Ron tapped three bricks next to a muggle sign that read NO PARKING and then poked the sign, which began to spin as if there were no longer any wall behind it – which there wasn't. Then it grew, filling up the space and becoming a revolving door. He gave the two visitors a genuine grin. "We still have something," and pushed through the doorway into Newport's approximation of Diagon Alley – and it was an alley, lacking the width of Diagon what had been Newport's tiny wizard enclave had been expanded as best as it could be, fit to bursting. Some buildings – the old apothecary, a handful of shops and what still was the local oblivation office, still had the whimsical look of architecture that relied on magic as much as mundane muggle laws of engineering. The newer buildings were unfortunately much more drab.

The whole place seemed to be tottering in on itself, like it would all collapse at any moment, but Hermione had assured him years ago that wasn't the case. This far south and across the water, things had stabilized. A sad shadow of what they once were, but a stable sad shadow. As long as they took proper precautions.

"Madam Malkin's," Ron pointed to a shop that looked more like a second-hand thrift shop than the seamstresses old store in London. "Course, dabbles in all sorts of things now, not just robes anymore. Back room has all sorts of stuff, enchanted bits and bobs that still work and some muggle stuff for when we go out." He shrugged – he didn't go in there very often.

They walked past a group of witches chattering quietly to themselves, and Daphne stopped, looking at one of the few places in the alley that had something resembling Diagon's old activity.

"Fortesques?"

Hermione nodded, beating Ron to the punch. "Yes. We are still a magical community after all."

Daphne raised an eyebrow at turned towards him, "You don't have butterbeer but the ice cream survived?"

"It's charmed now, not potions," Ron admitted sourly. Then he carried on, feeling the need to defend what they had, however imperfect it was. "Tastes almost the same, you wouldn't even know." Daphne just nodded. Harry made a comment about the first time he'd ever eaten a Fortesque Nevermelt Icecream, and thankfully he didn't ask about if Hagrid was still around.

"There's a bit more outside the alley, of course," Hermione began again, unable to resist. "That's the old Bobbins apothecary – the bank now, I think we told you about that." She pointed across towards a tottering tower with an equally tottering smoke stack belching out into the late afternoon sky. "That's The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, Alchemy Today, and Top Broom! Offices – they all share a press nowadays."

"Didn't know there would be enough news to keep them all occupied," Daphne remarked. Then her face looked confused. "Is Alchemy even still a thing? What on earth do they publish? And for whom?"

Ron grimaced. "Malfoy's nonsense, mostly. Can't afford to bribe The Prophet anymore, so he bought the rights to Alchemy off the owner's grandson and puts out his own little pamphlet once a fortnight. Complete rubbish."

"I have to admit, things are better than I expected," Harry said, sounding a little impressed. "Malfoy doing Malfoy things, excluded."

"He always was an idiot," Daphne added, sounding a bit nostalgic. "Even Pansy would admit it, from time to time."

Ron and Hermione shared a brief look, Hermione's smile looked rather sickly.

"We all pitch in of course, to keep the alley going" Hermione said at last, covering a lot of ground in eleven words. Harry didn't press.

"The Ministry is outside, a little out of town – wasn't room here and we got a little nervous about the muggle's noticing too many people going in and out. You'll see the quidditch pitch though, it's right at the end of the alley just before we pop back out among the muggles."

They walked on past the mishmash of magical buildings on both side of the street, the path inclining upward slightly as it twisted and turned in its thin, meandering line from the center of Newport to a perpetually out-of-order muggle toilet on the edge of the town.

The shops came to an end and the alley was now a long strip of open greenery, a few hundred yards long and a quarter that in width, and bordered on both ends by stone walls, high enough that only the occasional roof of a muggle home could be seen beyond them. Wizards and witches were scattered about here and there, reading one of the aforementioned papers or just enjoying the evening. It was busier than usual – on nicer days the local 'druids' tended to congregate in a muggle park, but the charms in the alley kept the drizzle out on evenings like this. Light came out of the door of the last building in the alley – a small tavern still run by Aberfroth Dumbledore to those in the know, now the last magical public house in Britain and much livelier than the one he had run in Hogsmeade.

The sound of laughter and cheerful shouts soon reached them, and sure enough two dozen children, ranging from ages ten to seventeen, were zipping around on brooms about ten feet above the ground, three quaffles zipping around between them.

"Had to change the rules a bit," Ron explained unprompted by the others. "Still use a snitch and the bludgers a couple times a year for special games, but otherwise it's just quaffles now. Three at a time though, it's bloody bonkers being keeper nowadays."

Harry's attention had turned toward the players, and Ron hid a grin. Harry was, apparently, still Harry.

"What ends the game then?" He asked, eyes locked on one quaffle as it was thrown and intercepted and thrown again down the narrow pitch, before a burly looking boy chucked it past one of the keepers.

Ron shrugged. "First to five centuries, usually." He sighed. "It's still loads of fun though – maybe we can join a game before you go."

Harry nodded, still focused on the players. "Yeah, maybe." Daphne snorted. "You should have mentioned you still had Quidditch back at Hogwarts, we would have been here yesterday." Ron doubted that.

One of the kids caught sight of them and waved. Ron waved back. "Harper, they live next door to us – anyway, best we keep moving, we'll get swarmed if they realize who we've got with us."

Which was a little too on the nose, but in this context it really was innocent.

And as soon as he mentioned chivying everyone along, he wished he almost hadn't. The feeling got worse as they passed the game and arrived at the end of the alley, going through a large oak door that came out into the muggle public toilet in a park on the east end of town. Seeing Newport through fresh eyes, watching Harry watch the Quidditch game, watching Greengrass taking in the last remnants of a properly magical enclave in Britain… comparing it to Hogwarts, it felt old and shabby, like maybe it would be better if it just died a proper death rather than shambling on like an inferus.

They walked through the fields outside of town until they all too quickly they came to the weathered old farmhouse that was now the Burrow. It had none of the magical eccentricities of the original which had been a marvel of magical expansion, but even from here and in its mundane muggleness his mum had managed to imbue the place with Weasley charm. They'd all pitched in to buying the place – and thank Hermione's muggle background for that! – and so on the inside it was still the madhouse he remembered from his childhood, but on the outside it was a simple, tidy, rather normal looking stone cottage. They still called it The Burrow by force of habit, although Ron truthfully felt that in spirit, the name rightfully lived on.

Ron hadn't really wanted to do this. But Hermione had talked him into it.

"It's more important than ever," she'd said back in their bed at Hogwarts over his concerns that Harry might – not unreasonably, it turned out, given Holyhead – think they were trying to secretly murder him in their sleep.

"Don't be silly, Harry wouldn't think that," she had replied before continuing on. "Being in The Burrow will show him that even now – especially now – we trust him even under out own roof," a hint of that bossy schoolgirl coming out under the mask of false modesty she wore in public nowadays. "Harry loves your family, and your family loves him. Even what's left. This is for the best."

Even what's left. He loved Hermione, he really did. But never had he almost hated her more than in the second it took her to rattle off those three words. It quickly passed. He told himself Hermione didn't really mean them, simply didn't understand them, for all her smarts. She never really had understood the Weasleys, truth be told. Maybe that was because she was a muggleborn, that the cultural gap really was in some ways insurmountable and she had put a wall between herself and her family when she received her Hogwarts letter, had started to pull away from them every since they had disappeared over the horizon as the Hogwarts Express took her away.

Maybe it was just the product of having no brothers and sisters while Ron had… had had a half dozen. Maybe it was because her parents, as far as she knew, were safe in Australia and unaware Hermione had ever existed, while he endured the day by day decay. Maybe it was just who Hermione was. Who could say, not Ronald Bilius Weasley.

Seeing the warm light in the cottage windows brought it all crashing down upon him. They were really doing this. He stopped a few feet from the front steps. Had they told Harry that Ginny was dead? That Fred was dead. That Charlie was gone. That Bill and Fleur – well the less said the better. Even less to say about Percy. He thought he might, at least some of it, mentioned in passing at Hogwarts. He'd certainly told Harry one hundred times in conversations he'd played over and over in his own head, all the way up the country to find him. It was hard to remember which of those conversations had only played out in his head, and which had occurred around the Hogwarts table.

"Harry, Greengrass," Ron said at last as the others were looking at him, just steps away from the front door. Mum's clock would show he'd arrived at home, she'd come out here any minute. He carried on, mouth tasting bitter.

"Things have changed a bit, you know? Don't expect too much. Please."

Harry looked at him, caught his eye, and for a moment they really were best mates again. He nodded, expression somber and understanding. Greengrass was beside him, holding his hand and she was staring at him but her mouth was a thin line – no smirk or mockery present at all and she bowed her head.

He took a breath then headed up to the door.

"And you'll have to forgive George when you see him. He isn't really himself." And wasn't that underselling things just a bit.

"Is it best if we don't go in?" Greengrass asked, looking a little uncomfortable and gesturing towards the door that Ron had not yet made a move to open.

"No, it'll be fine," Hermione shooed them up the last few feet, speaking very quickly and just above a whisper. "Fred and Parvati got married a few years ago, right when we arrived here, really. They'd been in some scraps together on the way south, and it just sort of happened. And it wasn't like they were complete strangers anyway, was it?"

"That's good," Harry acknowledged, sounding a bit unsure if it really were.

"It was," Ron confirmed. He took another breath. Merlin, they'd had the whole trip down the country to bring this up and now they were discussing this on their own front doorstep of all places. "We told you about the panic after the owls, yeh?" He was pretty sure they had, and was relieved when Harry and Daphne nodded. "Well things did get out of hand, and Fred and Parvati were caught up in it…"

Ron swallowed, the world turned to raindrops. This had been years ago, but it was all coming home, and telling this to Harry, and Greengrass of all people, just –

"Padma started coming around after that," Hermione cut in, speaking even faster than before, clearly aware it was only a matter of time before the door in front of them opened whether they were ready or not. "And George – well, we thought it was good for them, having someone else who understood. One thing led to another."

"And it was fine, a bit odd, but fine." Ron picked up. "But the last few months, they've gotten a bit more odd. A bit more… well, it's different is all." He turned to Harry again. "You remember how Fred and George liked to pretend to be one another?"

Harry nodded his head.

"George has been doing that again. Doesn't even seem to notice. We thought he was having us on at first and dad went ballistic because mum cries every time. He really isn't though, it just happens. And Padma, too. Like they're in some other world where none of this happened. The healer won't even look at them, says they give him the spooks. Can't blame him for that, because they bloody well give them to me."

"I'll be careful," Harry said after a moment. "Sorry."

Ron reached out and patted him on the shoulder. Then, shaking himself, opened the door.

Careful turned out to be a tall order. No sooner had they entered the house that his mum appeared, face rosy from the kitchen heat and a tremendous smile on her face. "Oh, Harry, so lovely to see you dear. Come on, come in! You're just as handsome as I remember." Harry smiled at that, looking a bit bashful. "And you dear, sorry I don't know if we ever met," she said to Daphne as she finally let go of Harry.

Daphne looked quite surprised at being so quickly included. "Daphne Potter."

His mum's smile brightened even further. "Oh wonderful! Oh dear it's so nice to meet you, oh it's so good to see some happiness in all of this, isn't it?" Daphne was pulled into a hug, the usually superior girl looking quite lost.

"Good to have you back home too, dear," She turned to Ron next. "And you as well, love. Oh we were so anxious – now you all get washed up and settled in, dinner will be ready in just a minute. Ron, bring in some extra seats if you don't mind – expansion charm is holding up fine for now, so just pop them around the table. Goodness, Harry Potter back in my home, and all grown up and married at that! Now, scoot!" Molly wiped her hands again on her apron, and Ron glanced down, seeing the fresh criss-cross marks across her hands. He frowned, and leaned forward to look in the kitchen and sure enough, a small army of pots, pans, and utensils were dashing this way and that around the stovetop and counter, preparing enough food for half of Wizarding Britain.

His frown deepened, and he looked up to catch his father's eye, Arthur shaking his head. Ron said nothing, but turned to the other three who were heading into the dining room, where a very battered table sat surrounded by a hodgepodge of mismatched chairs. Six were already around the table, although that could mean anything – Bill and Fleur came and went as they pleased.

"Go on, Ronald," Arthur said after a moment. "Help your mother with the chairs," he finished with another knowing look. "Hermione, my goodness let me take your coat – Hugo was having a nap in the living room as well, he'll be delighted to see you. And I think Pad-"

"Hello, everyone," the Indian girl came into being as if summoned. "Oh, hello Harry!"

Ron twitched. It was not Padma who had used that exact inflection when Harry entered the common room during sixth year while she was 'making nice' with him while Ron was dating Lavender.

"Hello, Padma," Harry replied. His expression though suggested he had noted the greeting as well.

"My, my and Greengrass – this is a surprise!" Padma tilted her head to the side. "You look much better."

"Thank you." Greengrass didn't sound it.

"I can't wait to hear how you two met!" Padma went on, eyes mischievous. Though they were saved from any further depth into that discussion – one that Ron was honestly a bit curious about himself, if he were honest – by Molly Weasley returning with bowls and platters following her like a flock of baby ducklings. "Sit down, sit down! I'm sorry it's so squashed but enlargement charms can only do so much!"

They took their seats. At the far end of the table, a grandfather clock donged, and a hand with the name George Weasley thunked into the twelve o'clock position.

"And that should be everyone!" Molly announced. Her smile faded a little. "Bill and his wife are busy in town tonight, I suspect."

George strolled in through the door, looking a bit unkempt but more put together than he usually did these days and Ron felt a sense of relief at that. Maybe they could get through this without anything too crazy. He looked around the room without a word and seemingly oblivious to their guests and took a seat next to Padma, who began piling roasted potatoes and turnips onto his plate in a well-rehearsed pattern.

The food was of course delicious. "I do hope you've been feeding him well, Daphne. Oh he was such a scarecrow back in the day, but you've filled out so nicely. If you don't mind me asking, dear, what was your maiden name?"

Daphne stopped, spoon halfway to her mouth. "Greengrass."

Molly's face twisted slightly for a moment before her smile came back, a little too forcefully. "Oh, of course. You know, you look just like your aunt. Queenie, wasn't it?" Daphne nodded. Molly fell silent, then plowed forward again. "At Hogwarts at the same time, I assume?"

"Same year, yes. But… well we didn't interact very much."

Not in ways suitable for the dinner table at any rate. Hermione snorted not-quietly-enough into her roast.

"Well, that's all very nice." Molly floundered. Arthur came to the rescue with a story about a group of muggles who had ended up seeing a group of witches entering into the Alley when they hadn't applied notice-me-nots. Since moving to Wright, the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office had grown by leaps and bounds, becoming basically a second oblivation squad and as second division of magical law enforcement rolled into one.

"They'll be punished of course – these things do happen but they were negligent. We all have to do our part these days, don't we? Can hardly afford another incident like Plymouth." Arthur shuddered.

"You've got twins, too!" George suddenly blurted out, voice full of accusation, bringing Ron back into the world of half zoning out his father's story to see George glaring daggers at Harry and pointing a fork at Harry from over the bowl of peas. "Three-eyed pair of snakes."

Harry turned to Ron then, looking a little lost, and Ron just shrugged and shook his head slightly, mouthing a quick 'sorry' for good measure. His mum tensed again and he felt Hermione go stock still beside him.

"Daphne has a sister, yes," Harry said after a moment, gesturing through force of habit at Daphne who had also stopped eating to look at George. Padma was patting his other, not pointing hand and whispering into his ear, to no apparent avail.

"But she's a little younger than Daphne, not a twin, I'm afraid."

"We were both in Slytherin though." She put her fork down and dabbed her mouth with her napkin.

But George shook his head. "Can see 'em, you know. Can't feel em. The Twin Magic – it's not there anymore, but I can tell it ought to be. Gred and Forge. What do yours call themselves? Whora? They're nearby, don't tell us they aren't."

Daphne went pale, her fork clattering on her plate as she dropped it. Nobody else seemed to notice, looking horrorstruck at George. Didn't suppose he could really blame the reaction; as unorthodox as her relationship to Harry was, Ron wouldn't have liked being called a whore, either.

"George dear – that's enough!" Molly interrupted, now looking completely mortified. "Padma, why don't you take him on up, clearly he's been out with those layabouts again. Harry, Daphne – I'm sorry – its been… it's been quite hard on poor George. Ever since-"

"We told him, mum." Ron interrupted, though keeping his tone soft. "Harry knows."

Harry nodded. "It's alright."

George turned around in the doorway. "Sorry, mum." He turned to Harry, and smiled. "It's been a while, you should come by the store sometime," he spoke as if they'd only just met and he hadn't just called Harry's wife… one of them… a scarlet woman. "We mostly sell muggle tricks nowadays, but we've managed to keep a small line going of real Wheezes going." He wagged a finger in mock-admonition. "Our silent partner has been a little too silent. It's a bad look. Come by tomorrow!"

"Maybe I'll do that," Harry replied, voice completely flat.

Padma led him away. His mum looked ready to cry.

"Ronald, why don't you show Harry and Daphne the orchard before it gets too dark. We'll clean up in here." Arthur said. "We'll get your room ready in the meantime. How many nights will you be with us?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted, looking very uncomfortable. "Might just be the one, we're here on business, really."

"Oh, that won't do!" Molly said as she wiped her eyes and then prodded her wand out, all the plates zipping into a stack in front of her, cutlery whizzing past straight into the kitchen sink. "You'll have to have dinner with us one more night, at the very least. I'll make treacle tart, that's your favorite still, I hope!"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, almost sounding soft.

"Well that's settled then, now go out for a few minutes, get some fresh air."

"I'm sorry about all that," Ron said as he closed the door behind him, leaving himself, Harry, and Daphne outside and ensconced in the small garden – an open spot of grass surrounded by a crumbling stone wall. Hermione had begged off, going to see to Hugo, though Ron had an suspicion that Padma would be there too.

"It's fine," Harry waved it away. Harry looked around the greenery and then, asked the damndest question yet.

"Do you still get garden gnomes?"

Ron laughed. "You know, we do. No idea how they got here; there's an old bloke who has to be almost two-hundred who swears blind they weren't around before the rest of us all showed up. Of all the things to make it out alive and well, it was the bloody gnomes." He scanned the garden as best he could in the dying light and then triumphantly pointed to a small upturned patch of earth about two-thirds of the way down the far wall. "That'll be one, there." As if on queue, the gnome chose that moment to emerge from the earth, looking every bit like a lumpy potato.

"C'mon then," Ron said, gesturing the two to follow. "He'll pitch a fit if we don't give him a proper toss. Harry let out a sharp laugh, and gave applauded when Ron twirled and chucked the gnome as far as he could, sailing over the Burrow's wall and letting out a shrill shriek of joy as it flew through the air, landing with a dull thud somewhere on the other side.

"Bugger will be back soon enough," Ron said fondly.

They watched the setting sun in silence.

Hopefully, tomorrow would be better. At least with Malfoy they knew what they were dealing with.