CHAPTER 10: BETWEEN SILENCE AND SLEEP

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of Mr. Weasley's words settling over them. Each of them was grappling with the enormity of what had been laid before them. The war might have ended, but its echoes were still reverberating through their lives, pulling them into new battles, new challenges, and new responsibilities.

Hermione turned towards Harry, her eyes searching his face. "Harry?"

But Harry didn't look at her. His gaze remained fixed on Mr. Weasley. "Mr. Weasley, Fudge and Scrimgeour once asked me to become the poster boy for the Ministry. If this is another attempt to—"

"No! No! No! It's not like that, Harry," Mr. Weasley interrupted, his voice earnest. "It's not like that at all, at least not according to what Kingsley told me. I brought this up with him a few days before the incident at Gringotts. He said he was aware of how Fudge and Scrimgeour tried to recruit you, to make you the Ministry's mascot. He assured me that he wouldn't do that. He knows how you feel about it."

Despite Mr. Weasley's reassurances, Harry's expression remained unconvinced.

Mr. Weasley sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world. "Harry, you don't have to agree if you don't want to. Kingsley isn't going to force you. That's the guarantee he gave me. The main reason he wants to recruit you is because of your experience with Voldemort. He values that, and the best way to integrate that experience is through the Auror Academy. He sees potential in you, Harry. He's convinced you could become an excellent Auror. Maybe even better than Moody."

"And he asked you to talk to me—to us—about this," Harry stated, his tone more resigned than questioning.

Mr. Weasley's shoulders sagged slightly as he nodded, guilt etched across his face. "Yes. I'm sorry, Harry. I told him it should be him speaking to the three of you. But he thought it would be better if I started the conversation since I'm the closest adult to you besides Molly. I said I could speak on his behalf, but I wouldn't influence your decision. You can say no if you don't want to, Harry."

Silence stretched between them as Harry processed the information. Minutes passed before he finally spoke. "I'll think about it." He then turned to look at Hermione and Ron. "We'll think about it."

A thin smile appeared on Mr. Weasley's face, relief softening his features. He patted Harry on the shoulder gently. "Take all the time you need. You still have a few months of schooling left. Focus on that, and you can make your decision once you graduate."

Harry felt a pang of concern as he watched Ginny retreat up the stairs, her silence more unsettling than any words could have been. He stood there for a moment, his mind swirling with thoughts of what could be troubling her, but he knew that pressing her now might only push her further away.

With a sigh, he turned back to the room, where the rest of the Weasley family was still exchanging farewells. The warmth of their goodbyes contrasted sharply with the cold distance that had just passed between him and Ginny. It made him feel more isolated, even in a room full of people who had become his second family.

Charlie gave a final hug to Mrs. Weasley, who clung to him as if reluctant to let go. "Take care, Mum. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"You do that, Charlie. And stay safe," Mrs. Weasley replied, her voice thick with emotion.

"Always," Charlie said with a reassuring smile before stepping into the fireplace. With a swirl of green flames, he was gone.

George was next, offering a brief but heartfelt goodbye before leaving for Diagon Alley. The house seemed quieter, emptier, with each departure.

Mr. Weasley watched them go, then turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "You three should get some rest. Tomorrow will come sooner than you think."

Ron nodded, his face drawn with exhaustion. "Yeah, let's get to bed."

As they made their way to their respective rooms, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Ginny's silence weighed heavily on him, and he wondered if he should have tried harder to talk to her. But the exhaustion from the day, from everything that had happened, was pulling him towards sleep. He decided to leave the conversation for tomorrow, hoping that whatever was bothering her would resolve itself by then.

Harry lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling as the soft light from the candle flickered, casting moving shadows that danced across the room. Ron's words hung in the air, mixing with the quiet sounds of the Burrow settling for the night. The notion of becoming an Auror, once a dream that had seemed so clear, now felt like a weight pressing down on him.

"It's not just about the qualifications, Ron," Harry finally said, his voice low but steady. "It's about what it all means. I wanted to be an Auror because I thought it would make a difference, that it would be my way of continuing to fight for what's right. But now... now it feels like every step I take, someone is trying to push me in a direction I didn't choose. Like the Ministry wants to use me, not for who I am, but for what I represent."

Ron listened quietly, his expression serious as he considered Harry's words. "I get that, mate. I do. But you gotta remember, you've already done more than most Aurors ever will. If anyone's earned the right to decide their own path, it's you. Kingsley knows that too. He's not like Fudge or Scrimgeour. He respects you, Harry."

Harry nodded slowly, absorbing Ron's reassurances but still feeling the lingering doubts. "I know Kingsley is different. But what if joining the Academy just makes it harder to escape that role? What if I lose myself in what they expect me to be?"

Ron, already half-buried in his blankets, looked at Harry with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "You won't lose yourself, Harry. You're too stubborn for that. And you've got us—me, Hermione, everyone. We'll make sure you don't get lost in all the expectations. But you have to decide what you really want, not just what you're afraid of."

Harry didn't answer right away, his thoughts drifting back to the conversation with Mr. Weasley earlier that night, to Ginny's unreadable expression, and to the uncertainty that had become a constant companion in the months since the war ended. He sighed and turned onto his back again, feeling the comfort of the bed beneath him but finding no comfort in the thoughts swirling in his mind.

"Thanks, Ron," he said quietly, more to fill the silence than anything else. "I'll think about it."

"That's all you can do," Ron replied, already sounding half-asleep. "We'll figure it out, Harry. We always do."

The laughter between them faded into the quiet of the night, leaving a comfortable silence that felt like a brief reprieve from the weight of the world outside their room. For a moment, the familiar banter between friends made everything feel almost normal, as if they were back in their earlier years at Hogwarts, before the war had upended their lives.

"Can you imagine her assigning us extra homework just because we're her friends?" Ron chuckled softly, still amused by the idea of Hermione as a professor.

Harry grinned. "She'd definitely keep us in line. Can't say I'd be surprised if she became the strictest teacher at Hogwarts. But she'd be brilliant at it too."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, she would. And I bet she'd love it. But honestly, Harry, I'm not sure I want to go back to school life, you know? Not like before. We're different now, and it just feels... strange, thinking about going back to classes and pretending everything's the same."

Harry understood what Ron meant. The thought of sitting through lessons, worrying about exams, and dealing with the usual school drama felt so distant from the life they had been living. They had seen and done things that most of their classmates couldn't even imagine, and it had changed them in ways that made returning to Hogwarts feel like stepping into a world that no longer fit.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his voice softer now. "It does feel strange. But I guess we just have to figure out what comes next. Maybe it won't be what we expected, but we'll get there. Somehow."

Ron turned on his side, facing Harry. "Yeah, we will. Just gotta take it one step at a time, I suppose. And maybe, just maybe, we'll figure it out together."

Harry smiled in the darkness, comforted by Ron's words. "Yeah. Together."

With that, they let the conversation drift away, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry found himself thinking again about the choices ahead, about Ginny and the unresolved tension between them, and about what kind of future he wanted to build now that the battle was over.

But as he lay there, the warmth of friendship and the promise of a new day ahead slowly began to ease his worries. They still had time to figure things out, and for now, that was enough.

"Good night, Ron," Harry whispered.

"Good night, Harry," Ron replied, his voice already tinged with sleep.

As Harry settled into his bed, he closed his eyes, finding solace in the comforting knowledge that he wasn't alone. Though sleep eluded him, he found a sense of hope in the quietude of the room, a gentle reminder that he had friends who cared.

After a while, Harry wiped the tears of laughter from his cheeks. "Well, at least it's not Trelawney teaching our Potions class."

Ron burst into laughter. "Oh Merlin, can you imagine? She'd probably predict a catastrophic disaster every time someone drops a bezoar."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I can just see her now—clutching her crystal ball and muttering about doom and gloom while McGonagall stands there looking like she's about to turn her into a toad."

Ron's laughter subsided into a grin. "That would be something to see. I bet McGonagall would get a kick out of that."

The room fell into a brief silence, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the fireplace. Ron's voice broke through the stillness. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry turned to face him, his curiosity piqued.

Ron hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Do you think Fleur will ever really move on? I mean, she's been through so much."

Harry pondered this, his brow furrowing. "It's hard to say. Fleur's still young—early twenties, no kids. She's got a whole life ahead of her. It's possible she might find someone new."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "And she's—well, she's stunning. Hard to imagine her staying single for long."

"True," Harry agreed. "But you know, Fleur's not just about looks. She's strong and resilient. I think she'd want to be with someone who understands that, someone who can make her happy."

Ron smirked. "Probably someone from France, then. Her family is still there, and I'm sure they'd prefer she stays close to them."

"Yeah," Harry said, his voice softening. "I imagine her parents would like that too. After everything that's happened, being near family could be comforting."

Ron let out a small sigh. "You're probably right. Well, we'll see what happens."

Harry glanced around the dimly lit room, his mind shifting to the day ahead. "We should get some rest, Ron. Tomorrow's going to be a long day—returning to Hogwarts, dealing with everything. We need to be up early."

Ron yawned, stretching his arms. "Yeah, good idea. I'll try to get some sleep. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Ron," Harry replied, his voice trailing off as he waved his wand. The candles around the room flickered out one by one, casting the room into darkness.

The silence of the room was now a comforting blanket, and as Harry finally closed his eyes, he hoped for a restful night, readying himself for the challenges of returning to Hogwarts.

But despite the serenity of the night, Harry found himself wide awake. The stillness of the house was occasionally interrupted by the grating snoring competition between Ron and the ghoul living in the Burrow's attic. Harry had grown accustomed to the ghoul's noisy habits over the years, but tonight, the sounds seemed particularly loud, almost mocking his insomnia.

The true cause of Harry's restlessness was far from the ghoul's snoring. His mind was preoccupied with Ginny and her strange behavior earlier that evening. For the past hour, he had been turning over every possible explanation in his mind, trying to make sense of her unspoken words and the pensive look she had given him before she walked away.

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