Chapter 9: In Which We See Some of the Changes that Harry Makes in His Life, and He Eventually Goes to the Burrow, to be Greeted With Not a Little Shock and Awe.
Harry slept rather well that next day. His soul was peaceful, and he felt the new purpose in his life revitalizing him, galvanizing him to action. He knew that the road ahead would be difficult, as things always are when one is trying to go against the current, but he knew he could make it, and that, at the end, he'd be able to be happy no matter what.
He was awoken, as usual, by Scruffy popping into existence in his room with a new basket of food. After setting out the new meal (carpetbag steak, cheese toast, and, for pudding, a french silk pie) he collected the previous night's basket. "Very nice, Master Harry Potter, sir, you has been eating much better. Master Tom will be very pleased that you is being able to put on weight."
Harry smiled. "Thanks, Scruffy. The food has been excellent, and I'm enjoying it quite a bit. I'm just glad that Tom is willing to do this for me."
"Oh, Master Harry Potter, sir, Tom is being a very good barkeep. He is wanting to help many people, and knowing that he has been of service to Master Harry Potter, sir, will make him very happy."
"I'm glad, Scruffy. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow."
Taking the subtle hint that Harry was ready to start eating, Scruffy bowed and vanished from the room. Harry dug into his new meal with gusto, mentally compiling a list of things to do that evening, one of which was a resolution that he should try to sleep at night, now that his nightly visitors had, presumably, stopped. "Crud!" he swore, vehemently. He had forgotten to ask Scruffy to magic him a new temporary mattress! Oh well, he'd manage until the next time Scruffy showed up. That brought back the order he'd been given to work on getting a new bed, so he looked around for Hedwig to send a note. The beautiful white owl was out, apparently hunting, so he contented himself with finishing up his piece of pie. On second thought, he took another piece, and pulled a piece of parchment toward himself, and wrote the request for the catalog, only getting two spots of chocolate on it.
Finishing up the crumbs from the third piece of pie, he decided that what he really needed was a schedule for his days. They had just become rather busy, and he wanted to make sure he didn't forget anything. So he sat down with a clean sheet of paper and a pen and started to set out which times he planned to do what, so that he could keep track, and maybe he could mark how far he'd gotten so as to have a record. First, he figured, he should do his exercising. After that was a shower and breakfast. The rest of the morning would be devoted to studying. After lunch, though, he figured he'd take a break. This would be his time to write letters, make plans, and . . . well, he didn't know what else, but he supposed as time went on he could find other things to do. If worse came to worst, he could always study some more, although that ranked rather lower than, say, daydreaming about having a girlfriend, perhaps one with red hair.
Hedwig arrived at about that time, leading what was almost a parliament of owls carrying packages with the logo for Madame Malkin's on the wrapping paper. His clothes had arrived, and Harry immediately forgot all about anything else as he divested the owls of their burdens. The owls, relieved to have successfully delivered their loads, lined up by Hedwig's cage to drink a bit of water, then take off through the window.
Harry didn't know what he wanted to look at first. For the first time, he had brand-new clothes. Well, he thought, his Hogwarts uniform had been new, of course, but this would be the first set of clothing that was for everyday wear, and he was rather excited. Finally, he just reached out and grabbed a package at random and ripped it open. As luck would have it, it was new boxers. He was rather embarrassed at this, and looked around as if expecting some giggle of girls to jump out and laugh at him, as they had every time Dudley had pointed out the rips in his jeans in school, but shook his head as he remembered where he was. Taking note of the soft fabric, silk he guessed, and beautiful green color, he decided that it was definitely worth it having new clothes, rather than hand-me-downs.
The next package proved to be shirts, then pants, then socks. After that came some new trainers, as well as dress shoes. Then a few jumpers, although he didn't figure he'd wear them, as the jumpers that Mrs. Weasley knitted for him were perfectly fine, and held a special place in his heart. There was a package with clothes intended for exercising, shorts and t-shirts, which he was grateful to Madame Malkin for, as he hadn't actually thought about that. A few sets of robes, both dress and casual, and a long overcoat made of black leather were next, and finally, a package containing an assortment of ties.
Harry shut the blinds and, grabbing a shirt, pair of pants, and a pair of boxers, hurriedly changed out of Dudley's hand-me-downs and into the new clothes. He couldn't believe how comfortable they were! The fabric was soft, there were no holes, and they actually fit. In fact, he could readily understand Sirius' comment about feeling better about himself. He wished he had thought of this years ago, but at least he was able to do something about it now. A fleeting thought of how Ginny would react to seeing him in these new clothes crossed his mind, but then he turned to other things.
Hedwig safely sent out with the request for the furniture catalog, he decided that he'd gather all of Dudley's old clothes and give them back. After all, he figured, they always complained so much about having to feed and clothe him, he might as well help out whenever possible.
oooooooooo
Harry was rather amazed at how his summer turned from being so horrendous, to one of purpose. And possibly even of some happiness. He found great pleasure in charting his progress in his exercises. Pushups and situps weren't his favorite way to spend his time, but he appreciated the feeling that came with being able to do more and more of them. Running, he decided, was much less fun than just about any other exercise he could think of, but until he thought of an alternative, it would do. Later on, of course, he would come to the point of enjoying it and give up the desultory search for a replacement.
The new bed that he had ordered made it so that his sleep each night was much more peaceful. Of course, he had known that the mattress at the Dursleys' was horrible compared with the ones at Hogwarts. But he had never realized how much of a difference having a good mattress made in his life. He still had nightmares, but even on those nights, he woke up the next morning feeling better than usual.
His study time quickly became another enjoyable time of the day. Granted, he didn't think he'd ever learn to love studying for the sake of studying, like Hermione did, but he found himself enjoying learning the material in his books. And what added more to his joy, he found that he was understanding the concepts behind magic for the first time in his life. Along the way, he discovered all the parts of his textbooks that his professors had never had time to teach, and realized that the wealth of spells that was available to him now would stand him in good stead in the future. Everyone who paid attention in charms had learned how to cast lumos, for example, but by reading the rest of his charms book, he learned lumos glosante, which conjured a set of four balls of light that floated at a set height above the caster. If only he were able to actually practice!
He also found himself thinking more and more about his friends, their relationships both amongst themselves, and with himself. Ron and Hermione would always be among his best friends, but he found himself lamenting not having taken the time to get to know Neville better. He spent quite some time thinking about Luna Lovegood, also. She had become an important person too, and he found himself grateful for the sheer, utter delight in life that she had been able to teach him. He firmly classified her as a good friend, and resolved to have a chat with the Ravenclaws that he knew to try to get them to treat her a little bit nicer. While Hermione occupied the niche of big sister for Harry, Luna became something like a favorite eccentric cousin.
And of course, much of his pondering time was spent on the subject of one Ginny Weasley. After the talks he had been given by his night-time visitors, he decided that he would really like to explore the possibility of a relationship with the red-headed girl. She was definitely beautiful, he could admit that to himself, and the fiery passion with which she approached life couldn't fail to attract him. She had proven to be an incredible help at the Ministry battle, and her ability to jerk him up short when necessary was something that he desperately needed in his life. Harry resolved to find out, subtly, if she really was dating Dean, and then to let her know of his own interest, whether or not she was otherwise engaged. After all, he thought, a girl needs to know she has options.
In this way, time that summer started to fly by, until the third week in July.
oooooooooo
Harry woke up, as usual, at 6:00, popped out of bed, and started to do his pushups. He was able to do twenty that morning, which was a far cry from the one he had done the very first time he had tried. And he didn't pass out afterward, either! Situps were the next item, then he prepared to go for his morning jog. It was at this moment that he heard a pecking on his window. Wondering why he had decided to close it the night before, then remembering the neighbor's dogs who had been howling at the full moon, he went over and let in poor Errol, who looked just about dead. Allowing the decrepit bird to flop onto the floor, he untied the letter, and sat down to read it.
Dear Harry,
After what seems like a month of petitioning every day, the Headmaster has agreed to allow you to come to the Burrow.
Harry re-read that sentence, wondering why it tasted so foul in his mouth. Then it hit him; here was just another example of Professor Dumbledore's assuming control over Harry's life without any real reason or explanation. The idea that the Headmaster of his school had any sort of authority over where he spent his summers seemed laughable, now that his mother had talked to him about it. Harry made a decision, right then and there, to stop this type of behavior. No longer would the whims of Albus Dumbledore be allowed to dictate where he, Harry, spent his holidays.
Decision made, he continued to read:
We are all very excited about seeing you again, and Arthur has made arrangements to come pick you up on the 16th of July, at about 5:30 in the evening, after he gets off work. Please be ready by then, and if there are any problems, please let us know. He's going to apparate in; Dumbledore modified the wards so that he can go right into the house. Now, we know Hedwig can travel here very quickly, so don't hesitate to inform us if you need our help in anything.
Be safe, be careful, and know that we are greatly looking forward to having you,
With Love,
Molly Weasley
Harry smiled. He was going to be able to spend a good portion of the holidays with the Weasleys! They really had grown to be his favorite family in the whole world, although nothing could replace the time he'd been able to spend with his mother and father, and Sirius of course. And this would give him quite a bit of time to get to know Ginny better, and practice the advice that he had been given.
He looked at the calendar to double-check the date; he had a tendency to let the days kind of run together when he was focused on his preparations; and found that it was the 15th. He decided that the afternoon should give him plenty of time to do whatever he had to do to prepare to leave, and then he could finish packing the next day.
oooooooooo
The Dursleys didn't react one way or another about the announcement of his impending departure. They had neglected him all summer, so Harry wasn't too surprised that this would continue. What he very carefully didn't tell them was that he had no plans of ever seeing them again. Burning bridges might look pretty, but it was rather permanent, so he just let them assume he'd be back the next summer.
The next afternoon, Harry was completely packed, sans Dudley's old clothes, which were wrapped up very nicely, tied with a bow, and sitting in the middle of his floor. He had asked Scruffy to take away the new bed and store it somewhere, offering to pay Tom for rental of storage space, and had replaced it with the thin, broken-springed one that belonged to the Dursleys. He had emptied out his cache of secret items under the loose floorboard, and sent Hedwig out with instructions to hunt for a while, and enjoy a nice leisurely flight to the Burrow. The owl had hooted appreciatively, nibbled on Harry's ear in good humor, and soared out through the window, causing Mrs. Number Six to do a rather impressive double take before the owl disappeared into the distance.
As the time approached 5:30, Harry had to work harder and harder to quiet his nerves. It was one thing to start doing things in private to prepare for the future. It was quite another to continue those preparations in front of the family that he loved, his best friend, and, if all went well, his future girlfriend. His musings were interrupted by a soft pop and a loud scream, as, presumably, Arthur Weasley apparated into the Dursleys' front room.
Harry rushed downstairs and saw that it was, indeed, the tall, thin form of the Weasley patriarch. Just in time, however, he remembered the fake Moody's teachings. "Hi, Mr. Weasley. What did you want the hospital to do to help you heal from the manticore bite you got during Christmas last year?"
Mr. Weasley smiled. "Very good, Harry, I would have forgotten to do that. First of all, it wasn't a manticore, it was a great big snake. And secondly, I wanted them to put in snitches, no, it was stitches, wasn't it?"
Harry smiled and nodded.
"Now, Harry, I should ask you a question too, shouldn't I? Let's see. Ah, what's my greatest desire?"
"Mr. Weasley, that's not a very good question; everyone knows you want to know how airplanes stay up. But not everyone knows that you have 137 plugs in your shed, right?"
Mr. Weasley grinned at the boy. "Well, that's true, my boy, that's true. Are you ready to-"
He was interrupted, and shocked into incoherence, as Harry came the rest of the way down the stairs and wrapped his arms around the older man. For a moment, Arthur didn't know what to do. He had never, that he could remember, been the recipient of a hug from Harry. He certainly cared for Harry as for one of his own, but ever since the first time he had seen the boy flinch away from a well-meaning hand on his shoulder, he had made sure to never try to touch Harry beyond a casual handshake. So this, this initiation of a hug, was a major change in their relationship. But his fatherly instincts asserted themselves, and he gently put his own arms around the teenager, pulled him close, and tried with all his might to show him how much he was loved.
The hug didn't last very long, as if Harry still weren't one hundred percent comfortable with the idea of such close physical contact. But the very idea of it was enough to make Arthur's eyes suspiciously bright. He cleared his throat, then said, in a slightly shaky voice, "So, are you ready to go?"
Harry smiled shyly at the older man, nodded his head, and gestured up the stairs. "My stuff's up in my bedroom, do you. . . do you want to come up? or should I bring it down?"
Grateful for the opportunity to leave the hostile glares of Harry's erstwhile guardians, Arthur imitated Harry's gesture. "Let's go up and just leave from there, shall we?"
Harry preceded Arthur up the stairs, which gave Arthur the chance to look at Petunia Dursley with all the feeling of his heart, which ached for the cold environment in which he had been raised. The odious couple who lived here would never really have the opportunity to feel the love that Harry had within his heart. And Arthur was just selfish enough to be grateful for that, for it seemed that Harry had decided to bestow that love upon Arthur's family instead, and they were definitely the richer for it.
Upon seeing the evidence of locks placed on the outside of Harry's door, and the cat flap installed on it, Arthur grew incensed. "Harry, what are these locks for? Did they really lock you in?"
Harry turned and looked at Mr. Weasley with a sad little smile. "Yes, Mr. Weasley, they did. But, please, it doesn't matter now. I don't want to dwell on it, and I'm certainly not going to let it affect my life. So, can we just leave? I'd like to get home soon."
Mr. Weasley almost missed the connotations of Harry's last statement, but when his mind caught up with the words, he smiled, held out the portkey, which was a beaten up old wristwatch, and said, "Okay, son, let's get you home."
oooooooooo
The portkey deposited the two men on the walkway leading up to the ramshackle structure that was home to the Weasley family. As Harry took in the familiar sight, contentment welled up in his soul, and he realized, perhaps for the first time, how much it meant to him that the Weasleys had taken him in so completely. It was as if the visits with his parents and Sirius had removed a block, or perhaps re-enervated a part of him that he hadn't known was missing; the ability to feel so strongly about something, the ability, perhaps, to love something and someone, or even many someones. Unbeknownst to himself, a smile grew on his face, until Arthur fairly stared at the change in Harry's countenance.
Harry let out a deep breath, as if expelling all the hate and poison that built up in him during his time at the Dursleys, and started walking for the front door. As he approached, he rehearsed to himself the mantra, I am a Gryffindor, I am a Potter, and Fortune Favors the Bold. Surprising even himself, he put his hand on the doorknob and opened it, walking right in. Arthur felt rather pleased at this further evidence that Harry considered the Burrow his home, and made a promise to himself that he would do everything possible to encourage that feeling and prove to Harry that he was as welcome there as any of their other children.
oooooooooo
Ginny had had an interesting day. Well, interesting in some ways, and utterly predictable in others. She had helped her mother in the kitchen, preparing for the evening meal, worked on some of her homework, and pondered the writing in her diary of six things that she remembered from her dream. This was becoming something of a habit for her. She wasn't sure it was a healthy one, as it served to increase those feelings for Harry that she had buried within her, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Her reverie that day had been interrupted by an owl from Dean, her theoretical boyfriend. He wasn't, really. On the trip home from school she had announced to the whole compartment that she had chosen Dean, but that had been mostly to aggravate Ron, who had been pushing his prat-ness in her face. In reality, she and Dean had become a little more than acquaintances at the end of the last school year, and he had asked her to be his girlfriend. She hadn't accepted the proposal, preferring not to get herself too committed to a relationship right before summer holidays, but had agreed to write to him to at least get to know him better over the summer. She had agreed to ride back to school with him in the fall, assuming that he hadn't proven himself an utter berk in their correspondence, and figured that by the end of the train ride she'd know for sure. Her reluctance to commit to a relationship with Dean at present also owed part of itself to the reaction that Harry had given when he had heard her statement on the train. She had seen a brief look of, perhaps, sadness, or longing, cross his face at her pronouncement, although it vanished rather quickly. Upon seeing that, those feelings, those previously buried hopes and desires, had started to speak up more strongly again, and she found herself reevaluating her future prospects.
So now she was curled up in the loveseat by the fireplace, contemplating the letter Dean had sent her. It had been a perfectly nice letter, very thoughtful, kind, and utterly boring. From what he had written, Ginny had learned that: 1) Dean loved Muggle football, 2) Dean's mother liked to cook, and 3) He was besotted by her and felt that she was absolutely perfect. Her reactions to the above were, respectively, a yawn, the thought yeah? Well, I'll match my mum against his any day of the week, and a wry smile as she thought about what he'd say if he knew just how imperfect she was.
Her musings were interrupted by the front door's opening, admitting the bespectacled form of one Harry Potter. As he came in through the door, Ginny caught her breath in surprise. She had expected. . . well, to tell the truth, she didn't really know what she had expected, but whatever it was, this wasn't it. For starters, he had a smile on his face. That in and of itself was enough to transform his face from the normally angst-ridden scowl into a thing of exceeding handsomeness. Once Ginny got past the smile, she noticed that he looked a lot better physically than she had ever seen him before. First, he wasn't wearing old, patched, much too large clothing. Ginny had never really paid a lot of attention to Harry's clothes. She herself was rather used to wearing hand-me-downs, but these, these were obviously made for him, and showed off his form to its best advantage. And Harry's physique! Ginny felt a rush of blood to her face as she took in the new muscles he seemed to have acquired since the end of school. She had always thought him very handsome, that was a given, and didn't mind the fact that he wasn't broadly-built; too much muscle tended to put her off, being rather slim herself. But the previously skinny boy had turned into a very well-proportioned and fit young man, and Ginny felt her Harry feelings, which had been warming up from almost dead coals into embers, spark into a tiny flame.
The smile that had appeared on his face at seeing the front room of the Burrow was beautiful, something that Ginny couldn't ever remember having seen on his face before, and she thought maybe this was the happiest she'd ever seen him. But when his eyes landed on her, curled up in her seat, and that smile grew even broader, she realized she had been wrong. He started across the floor towards her, and before she'd had time to process this, he was standing in front of her. Expecting maybe a stiff Hello, or a handshake, she was shocked to find him pulling her up and wrapping his arms around her in what was probably the first genuine hug he'd ever given her. She stood there, rooted to the spot, wondering how her father had been fooled into believing that this impostor was really Harry. Finally, though, her brain caught up to the situation, and told her, in no uncertain terms, to not lose out on what might be the only opportunity she'd have to really hug Harry, and she wrapped her arms around him too.
Unfortunately, this caused her brain to shut down again as she noticed just how good he felt in her arms. This, her traitorous heart whispered, this is what you've been waiting for. None of the times that Michael had held her even compared to the warmth, and the comfort, and the safety she felt while in Harry's arms. All too soon, he loosened his hold on her, and backed away a bit making her feel unexpectedly, and very unhappily, cold. But the chill vanished immediately as Harry leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek. Blushing furiously now, she went to raise a hand to check the spot on her face, certain that it was on fire. But then he spoke, and she forgot, again, what she was doing.
"Ginny, I'm so happy to see you! How is your summer going?"
Ginny just stared. She couldn't believe what was happening, and now he wanted her to actually talk?
"Um . . . uh . . . I'm . . .", she stammered, finally squeaking a quick "fine!"
Harry grinned at her and said, "Glad to hear it, although if you're just-" and here he tried really hard to make his voice as high as possible, imitating her squeak, "-fine-" and dropped his voice back down to its normal registers, although in a much softer tone, "I'd suggest sitting far away from any butter dishes."
Frozen in place, her brain overloaded trying to process all this new information about her friend, Harry, who never touched people, never initiated any sort of flirting conversation, and never, ever, in a million years, would kiss her, she just stared.
Harry didn't seem to take it amiss, or maybe he didn't notice, as he just smiled at her, and took his leave to go place his things in Ron's room, where her mother had directed him. Of course, his departure was delayed by his going over to Ginny's mum and giving her a big hug also, which registered itself somewhere in Ginny's brain as making this day even more incredible than it had been, as he'd never hugged Molly first, either.
Finally this paragon of un-Harry-ness left, which turned down the fuzziness in Ginny's brain, and she was able to sink back into her seat, to try to fit together the puzzle that this new Harry presented.
Arthur, who had witnessed the whole scene, and Molly, who had seen the second half, exchanged happy grins, and filed away this new behavior as something that they planned to discuss in minute detail that evening after retiring to their own room.
oooooooooo
Harry climbed the stairs, fairly agog at the happenings of the evening. His mantra had proven to be a god-send, as when he had seen Ginny sitting there in the loveseat, looking more beautiful than he had ever thought she could, his reflex action, which was to blush, stammer out a greeting, and hide upstairs, had been trumped by the new Potter boldness, and he had actually walked towards her.
He had been even more shocked when his hands, seemingly of their own accord, had pulled the slim girl into his arms. Hugging Mr. Weasley had been very satisfying, in a "small boy needing a father's approbation" sort of way, but hugging Ginny satisfied some deeper need in him, and he found himself loath to break the embrace. But he couldn't convince himself that it was entirely appropriate for him to be hugging someone else's (possible) girlfriend in such a manner, so he contented himself with what he'd done, and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. Once again, his normal, or perhaps, previous, self went into paroxysms of happiness, while his new persona, the brave, bold Harry Potter, took over the conversation. He wasn't really sure what he'd said, although he hoped to be able to remember it later, for possible apologizing, or to use as a building block for further conversation. Noticing Mrs. Weasley there, he confirmed his room assignment, gave her a hug too, which felt just as good, although in a completely different way, as the hug he'd given Ginny, and fled, albeit with forcedly slower steps than he wanted, up to Ron's glowing orange bedroom.
oooooooooo
Thankfully for Harry's peace of mind, Ron wasn't in his bedroom. Harry had the opportunity to situate his trunk, unpack a few of his clothes, and regain his composure, before Ron rushed into the room, anxious to see his best friend.
"Harry, mate, it's great to see you! How are you?" Ron was, as usual, less than skilled in the art of estimating someone's well-being by sight alone. He had always been somewhat blind to certain things, and judging Harry's state of mind was one of them. And, since Hermione wasn't there, he opted to go for the direct method, straight-out inquiry.
"Hey, Ron, it's good to see you! I'm doing really well, thanks! How are things here?"
That was all it took for Ron to launch into a recitation of the events of the summer, which seemed to fall into three categories. Most important, of course, was Quidditch, which included a discussion (more a one-sided monologue than a discussion, really) of Gryffindor's prospects for next year, and an even more one-sided diatribe against the people who chose to bet against the Cannons, which conveniently ignored the fact that said bettors always won their bets. The second topic had to do with Hermione, and her imagined love affair with Viktor Krum, which just caused Harry to roll his eyes and try to change the subject as fast as possible. It seemed to him that Ron had a rather unhealthy fascination with Hermione's love life, or lack thereof. Harry knew it was the latter, as he had first-hand knowledge, directly from Hermione, that she and the Quidditch star had never really hit it off, and she had taken some rather final steps in dismissing him as a love interest, or even a good friend, in her life. The third topic was, Harry was surprised to hear, Ginny's supposed love life. This hit a little too close to home for Harry's previous peace of mind, and he desperately suggested that it was time to eat, which handily grabbed Ron's attention, or so Harry assumed by the slamming of the door and pounding of his feet on the stairwell.
Following more sedately, Harry arrived at the kitchen to see the rest of the family seated, with a couple of empty chairs left. One was between Ron and his mum, and the other was to Ginny's left, at the end of the table. It only took him a moment to decide to sit next to Ginny, something which caused her to smile broadly at him, Ron to shoot him a rather quizzical look, and both Weasley parents to grin into their hands.
"Where are the twins?" Harry asked as the food started making its way around the table.
Mrs. Weasley answered, "They didn't know you were coming today, otherwise I'm sure they would have been here. Most of the time they eat dinner here, but when they have to work late, they order in from the Leaky Cauldron."
"Brilliant," Harry commented, "I sure enjoyed their food over the summer."
The conversation stopped completely at this pronouncement, and Harry realized that he had some quick explaining to do, judging by the look on Mrs. Weasley's face. "Um, I decided that I needed to start taking care of myself, Mrs. Weasley, and one of the things I could do was arrange to have decent food. So, I sent Hedwig to Tom and asked him to have food delivered every night. It was pretty good, and it was nice having Scruffy. . ." he noticed the looks of confusion, and quickly explained, "oh, he's the pub elf that works for Tom. Anyway, it was nice having Scruffy come over, because he made it so the Dursleys couldn't smell the food, and he even magicked me up a more comfortable bed until I could get one delivered."
This explanation, which he thought was perfectly logical, didn't seem to do anything towards calming the incipient explosion that was Mrs. Weasley, and as he watched, Mount Molly erupted. "How dare you pay for substandard food from the Leaky Cauldron?! You have a family here, and I am perfectly capable of sending you food! Or are you saying that you'd rather eat the pig swill that Tom sells? Well? I am waiting, young man!"
Harry didn't know what to say. He honestly hadn't thought about asking Mrs. Weasley to send food, although now he couldn't really figure out why not. He bowed his head, desperately trying to think of how to resolve the situation, which wasn't helped by the almost completely muffled snicker coming from his right. Finally he raised his head, then stood up and walked over to where the matriarch of the family was sitting. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her out of her chair, then wrapped his arms around her. "Mrs. Weasley, I'm sorry I didn't think to ask you for help. I'm not used to having family around to help take care of me. Will you forgive me if I promise to always come to you first?"
Mrs. Weasley sniffled a bit, hugged Harry even more tightly, and kissed him on the cheek. "Of course, dear. Just remember, though, that you're a part of this family, and family always comes first."
The other three Weasleys watched in awe as the Boy Who Lived stood up to a Molly Weasley embrace, giving almost as good as he got. Their amazement grew as he made no move to back away from the hug, something that just served to bring home to the watchers exactly how much Harry had changed over the summer.
Eventually, and it was a mutual thing, Molly and Harry let go of each other, and resumed their places at the table. Ginny leaned over to Harry, resolutely stifling the small flutter in her stomach as she breathed in his unique woodsy scent. "That was about the best you could have done, Harry, I'm impressed," she whispered.
He turned to her, very conscious of just how close his lips were to her ear. "Thanks," he breathed, not missing the slight shiver that went through her. "It was all true, too, which is the most important part, I think."