CHAPTER 11: A FATHER'S WISDOM

It all began when Ron mentioned Fleur. The conversation about Fleur and her potential future, her beauty, and her resilience had struck a chord with Harry. Fleur was undoubtedly stunning—Harry knew that firsthand. Even Bill, who was usually quite steady, had struggled to maintain his composure around her.

But Ginny… Ginny was beautiful in her own way, too. Her pale skin, the freckles that dotted her cheeks, her bright brown eyes that sparkled with emotion, and her flaming red hair. Harry adored her hair; it was like a fiery halo around her face. And more importantly, he loved her.

Harry realized that his heart was fully occupied by Ginny, which was why he felt immune to Fleur's allure. He cared deeply for Fleur, but it was a different kind of care, one of friendship and respect. Just as he valued Hermione's friendship immensely, Fleur held a special place in his heart. But Ginny was his true love, and that was something he couldn't deny.

Frustrated and exhausted from the constant tossing and turning, Harry finally sat up in bed. He glanced over at Ron, who was soundly asleep, his rhythmic breathing a stark contrast to Harry's turmoil. Ron had always been able to fall asleep easily, like a light switch flipping on and off without effort. Harry envied him for that.

"I need some fresh air," Harry murmured to himself, feeling the weight of his sleeplessness. He quietly swung his legs over the side of the bed and slipped on a pair of pants. With a final glance at Ron, he tiptoed toward the door, trying not to disturb his friend.

The hallway outside was dimly lit by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. Harry crept down the stairs, careful not to make any noise. The cool night air outside would hopefully clear his mind and offer him some respite from his thoughts.

As he stepped out into the garden, the crisp night air hit him, invigorating his senses. He took a deep breath, letting the tranquility of the Burrow's garden wash over him. The stars shone brightly above, and the gentle rustling of leaves was the only sound accompanying his thoughts.

Harry leaned against the garden wall, letting his mind drift through the quiet of the night. Ginny's behavior earlier was still a troubling mystery to him. The calm, serene night seemed to mock his unrest. He hoped that the stillness might offer some insight into her troubles, but his thoughts remained tangled.

As he reached the third landing on his way down the stairs, Harry paused outside Ginny's room. The house was shrouded in darkness, and he imagined both Ginny and Hermione were fast asleep by now—it was well past midnight. An urge to knock on her door nearly overtook him, but he shook his head, deciding against it. Instead, he continued his descent and made his way to the ground floor.

Once outside, he walked briskly to the porch. The sky above was clear and uninterrupted by city lights, offering a breathtaking view. Far from the hustle and bustle, the Burrow provided him with a canvas of stars, including a faint stretch of the Milky Way arching from southwest to northeast. The absence of the moon made the stars even more prominent.

Memories of his time at the Burrow with Ginny resurfaced vividly. They had spent countless nights sneaking out to the porch, where they'd sit together on the small swing. They would talk for hours, wrapped in each other's warmth, until the rooster's crow heralded the dawn. The recollection brought a wistful smile to Harry's lips, but it faded quickly as he considered the present.

He missed those moments dearly and yearned for them to return. The weight of recent tragedies and Ginny's strange behavior had cast a shadow over their once-simple comfort. He told himself not to read too much into her actions—she had just lost another brother, and grief could manifest in many ways. Perhaps she simply needed time alone. He was willing to give her that space. When she was ready, he hoped things might return to how they used to be. Regardless, he would be there for her, always ready to offer his support.

Harry's gaze wandered to the surrounding darkness. The area around the Burrow was pitch black, but he felt secure. The security measures had been significantly bolstered after Bill's death, thanks to Mr. Weasley's diligent efforts.

He continued to ponder, lost in his thoughts, until a voice suddenly interrupted his solitude.

"Can't sleep, Harry?"

Startled, Harry spun around, drawing his wand instinctively and pointing it towards the source of the voice. The darkness revealed a silhouette of a man leaning against a nearby post, casually observing him.

"Who's there?" Harry demanded, his heart racing as he tried to make out the figure.

The silhouette stepped into the dim light filtering from the porch, revealing the familiar features of Mr. Weasley. "It's just me, Harry. Didn't mean to startle you," Mr. Weasley said, his tone calm and reassuring.

Harry lowered his wand, though his suspicion remained. "What are you doing up, Mr. Weasley?"

Mr. Weasley gave a small, weary smile. "Couldn't sleep either. Thought I'd check on things, make sure everything's alright."

Harry nodded, feeling a bit sheepish. "Just needed some fresh air. Been thinking a lot lately."

Mr. Weasley's eyes softened with understanding. "It's been a rough time for all of us. Sometimes a bit of fresh air and quiet can do wonders. But remember, you're not alone in this. We're all here for each other."

Harry appreciated the sentiment. "Thanks. I guess I needed to hear that."

They stood together in the quiet of the night, the stars twinkling overhead like a scattered tapestry. Mr. Weasley's presence provided a reassuring sense of camaraderie, a small comfort amidst the chaos and loss that had recently engulfed their lives.

Suddenly, Harry's sense of unease returned. He squinted at the figure beside him, feeling an odd sense of recognition. "Who are you?!" Harry demanded, though the voice was unmistakably familiar.

Arthur Weasley turned to him with a smirk. "Arthur Weasley, Harry. At your service."

"Arth—" Harry began, but he was cut off as he muttered, "Lumos!" A small orb of light sprang from the tip of his wand, casting a warm glow over the porch. The man before him was indeed Arthur Weasley—or someone with an uncanny resemblance.

Harry's wand remained raised, and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Mr. Weasley?"

The so-called 'Mr. Weasley' stepped closer, his demeanor relaxed. He leaned in conspiratorially and said, "During our, um, alone time, I like to call Molly 'Mollywobbles.'"

Harry's eyes widened in recognition. "Ah, I see," he said, lowering his wand. "But how did you know that we—I mean—"

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Remember the time when we had to use our unique passwords for entry? Molly once scolded me for revealing our password in front of you all. I figured you'd know by now."

Harry scratched his head, a chuckle escaping him. "Yes, that was rather embarrassing, even for us. I'm sorry about before."

Mr. Weasley waved off his apology with a warm smile. "No need to apologize, Harry. It's good to see you're still cautious. It's a trait that serves you well."

With that, Mr. Weasley motioned towards the swing on the porch. Harry followed, noting the small groan Mr. Weasley made as he sat down. He saw Mr. Weasley rubbing his knee vigorously.

"You'll have to forgive an old man," Mr. Weasley said with a rueful grin. "My knees aren't what they used to be."

"That's okay, sir," Harry replied as he sat down beside him on the swing. "I'm sure you've earned a few creaks and groans."

They sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. The tranquility of the night enveloped them, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

Arthur Weasley was the first to break the silence. "It's a shame," he said, his voice carrying a note of wistfulness.

Harry turned to him, curiosity piqued. "Sir?"

"This," Mr. Weasley said, gesturing broadly to the serene night sky. "A peaceful night like this is rare for us. You know how it is in Britain—always so much turmoil and unrest. A night like this, with such a beautiful sky and a gentle breeze, should be savored. It's a reminder to appreciate the quiet moments when we can."

Harry nodded, absorbing Mr. Weasley's words. "It is beautiful," he agreed, glancing up at the stars. "It's easy to forget to appreciate these things when everything feels so chaotic."

Mr. Weasley gave a thoughtful nod. "Indeed. Whether you're awake to enjoy it or need to find peace to sleep, moments like these are fleeting. They're reminders of what we're fighting for, and why it's worth it to keep going."

Harry looked back at Mr. Weasley, his expression reflective. "Thank you, sir. I think I needed to hear that."

Mr. Weasley smiled, patting Harry on the back. "Anytime, Harry. We're all in this together. And sometimes, a bit of wisdom from an old friend can make all the difference."

As they continued to sit together, the serene night provided a much-needed break from their worries, allowing them to find some solace in each other's company.

"Your point, sir?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Mr. Weasley shook his head with a nostalgic smile. "No point at all, Harry. It's just that it's been a long time since I enjoyed a night like this. Back when things were quieter, Molly and I would sit on this swing, talking and enjoying the stars. We only did it when you lot were at school. Things started to change when You-Know-Who returned."

Harry listened attentively as Mr. Weasley continued. "I still come out here at night, but not to look at the stars. I'm out here to keep watch. It got worse after Bill and Fleur's wedding. We were constantly being watched, and the nights felt oppressive. For the following months, the nights were shrouded in mist. You could feel the dread seeping into your bones, wrapping around your soul." Mr. Weasley shuddered at the memory. "I could only stay outside for a few minutes before the fear drove me back inside."

"Dementors," Harry said softly.

Mr. Weasley nodded. "That's what I suspected. The Dementors were used not just as punishment but as a means of control. They drained all hope and happiness, making it nearly impossible to stand up for yourself. It was effective, I hate to admit. But now, with You-Know-Who gone, the nights are clear again. Yet, it's still hard to truly enjoy them."

"Some wounds take time to heal, sir," Harry said, offering a sympathetic look.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "True. But it's not just the wound that's the problem." He paused, his gaze distant. "It's everything that's changed since Fred died. Molly, the Burrow, the whole family… It's just not the same anymore. It feels like living in a morgue, where you're always waiting for the next death to come."

The weight of guilt pressed heavily on Harry. He turned away, staring at the ground. "I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley. I never wanted anything bad to happen to your family. I never wanted anyone to die, especially not because of me. If only I had been faster—"

Mr. Weasley's hand gripped Harry's shoulder firmly, pulling him to face him. "Harry! Listen to me. Molly and I do not blame you for what happened. Not for a single moment!"

"But Voldemort targeted me, Mr. Weasley! I was his focus, and everyone connected to me was at risk. That was his plan—" Harry protested.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley interrupted gently but firmly, "You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters hurt and killed anyone who didn't align with them. Even if you hadn't been friends with Ronald, they would still have come for this family. The Weasley family has always been labeled as 'Blood Traitors,' and it comes with its own set of dangers, if you understand what I mean."

"I just wish I could have done more," Harry said, his voice tinged with regret.

"And you did," Mr. Weasley assured him. "You did more than anyone could have asked. You defeated him for us, Harry. That's more than enough."

"But so many people died," Harry said, his dejection evident. "It feels like it wasn't worth it."

Mr. Weasley placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I know it's hard to see it that way, but what you did was brave and necessary. You gave us a chance at a future. We have to hold onto that, even if the cost was high."

Harry nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the conversation settle heavily upon him. The night sky continued to shimmer above, an unspoken witness to their shared grief and hope.

"People die in war, Harry," Mr. Weasley said quietly, his voice laced with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. "And many more would have died if you hadn't defeated You-Know-Who. When you had him cornered, he was at his most dangerous. Like a cornered snake, he would have struck out viciously. Nobody would have survived if you hadn't taken him down—probably not even his Death Eaters. We owe our lives to you. Remember that."

Harry, who had been intently listening, now looked down in discomfort. "Nobody owes me anything. I simply did what I had to do," he said slowly, his voice almost a whisper.

Mr. Weasley's smile was warm and reassuring. He squeezed Harry's shoulder gently. "And that's what makes you exceptional, Harry. Your selflessness is something we need more of in this world. It's a rare quality."

Harry remained silent, deeply absorbed in Mr. Weasley's words. The conversation had stirred a lot of thoughts within him.

Seeing that Harry was lost in thought, Mr. Weasley took the opportunity to continue. "There's a reason I'm sharing all of this with you, Harry. There's also a reason I mentioned the Auror Academy."

Harry's head snapped up, his brow furrowing in confusion. "You want me to join the academy," he stated, more a realization than a question.

Mr. Weasley nodded, his expression earnest. "Yes, that's the idea. I truly believe you could make a significant difference if you join. Your reputation and talent could lead to meaningful changes. More importantly, you're one of the few people I know who can't be bought. We need that kind of integrity to make real progress. This isn't about being a mascot. It's about finding a way to pave the path forward."

The silence that followed was thick with contemplation. Harry's mind churned over Mr. Weasley's words. The idea of joining the Auror Academy had seemed distant and abstract, but Mr. Weasley's perspective made it seem like a genuine opportunity for change.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to, Harry. There's no pressure," Mr. Weasley added, his tone gentle and understanding.

Harry considered this. He thought about the wizarding world's needs for reform and improvement, and how his unique position might offer a chance to influence it. The thought was both daunting and inspiring. Perhaps Mr. Weasley was right. It wasn't about fame or being a figurehead; it was about making a real impact.

He looked at Mr. Weasley with a newfound sense of clarity. "I'll think about it, sir. Thank you for giving me something to consider."

Mr. Weasley smiled, clearly relieved. "Take your time, Harry. Whatever you decide, know that we support you."

The two sat in silence again, the comfort of their shared understanding easing some of the burdens they both carried. The night sky above them remained a silent, starry expanse, a symbol of the hope and potential that lay ahead.

After giving it a lot of thought, Harry finally spoke up. "Mr. Weasley, I told Ron the other day that I want to become an Auror. I'm not planning to back away from that. If it's true that Kingsley wants to make real changes, I'm all for it. I'll join the academy and become an Auror. That I can promise. But I have one condition."

Mr. Weasley looked at Harry with a mixture of curiosity and encouragement. "And what is that, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath, his resolve clear. "I want to be allowed to attend the academy only if I score the required grades. My parents were the best of their time. I want to honor their memory by doing things the right way. If I don't achieve the necessary grades, Kingsley will just have to find someone else."

Mr. Weasley's eyes softened with pride as he patted Harry on the back. "And I believe you will, Harry. You're James and Lily's son. Their blood runs through your veins, and their spirit lives in you. We're going to make a difference, together. We will."

The stars continued to shine in the clear night sky, their gentle light a silent testament to the promises made and the future ahead.

Flash back ends.

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