End of last chapter:
~And that was when the happy family, including Hermione, heard it. A sort of scraping, scratching sound from the sitting room. Mr. Weasley heard it first. He stood up, followed by Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and lastly, Molly Weasley. When they reached the room, they realised that the noise was coming from the fire-place. Flakes of soot flew from the grate, and, rather suddenly, a black figure burst from the fire-place, startling Mrs. Weasley, who screamed.~
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The black figure was lying on the mat, covered in soot. A rather familiar cough was sounding from his mouth. After a moment of shocked silence, Ginny stepped forward, and whispered,
“Harry? Is that… You, Harry?”
The person lifted his head from the mat and stood up.
“Yeah, who did you think it was?” he asked, grinning.
Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley seemed to hug him all at the same time. Hermione said curiously,
“Harry, what are you doing here? You’re a day early! Ron hasn’t even finished getting his room ready!”
“I have, Hermione!” Ron said indignantly. “For your information! Hiya, Harry, mate.” Ron slapped his shoulder.
“Harry dear!” Mrs. Weasley fussed, bustling forwards to sweep more soot off of Harry’s shoulder. “Come on, you go and have a shower, and I’ll rustle you up some dinner!”
An hour later, everyone was crowded once again around the table, Harry eating, and Ron eating seconds, or maybe it was thirds…
Harry told the Weasley family that Uncle Vernon had sworn that it was today that he was to be packed off to the Burrow, and although Harry had insisted that it was too early, he was sent anyway.
“How was that bit of your summer with them, then? They seemed to let you use the felly-tone, from what Hermione told me,” Ron asked, before stuffing a forkful of mashed potato into his mouth.
“It was the same as, really, except I was allowed to call Hermione. I was ignored though, as usual,” Harry answered, shrugging.
“Oh, Harry, you look underfed! More chops?”
Harry accepted more food from Mrs. Weasley with a polite, “Yes please, thanks!”
Mr. Weasley had been quiet for a while, but now he spoke up.
“Harry. We have been sent the letters from Hogwarts early, yours included. Here,” he passed it to Harry. “Read it.”
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Dear Mr. Harry Potter.
We are pleased to welcome you to a new year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment for your seventh year at the school.
Term begins on 1st September as normal.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress
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“Professor McGonagall is the new Head?” Harry questioned, although, really, he wasn’t that surprised.
“Yes,” Hermione answered, rather confused. “Didn’t Ron tell you?”
Ron’s ears went crimson. “Oh- Oh yeah, I might have missed that part out…”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said stubbornly. “I’m not going back, anyway.”
Hermione suddenly seemed to find her nails incredibly interesting, and Ron stared down at his newly filled plate.
“You can’t be serious, Harry!” Mr. Weasley objected. “This is your most important year, with N.E.W.T exams coming up!”
“What does an education matter when the world is in danger and you could die at any minute?”
“Harry, it matters! And, the world isn’t just yours to save. There are powerful Aurors out there at this very moment, tracking down You-Know-Who!”
“It won’t make any difference! They won’t be able to destroy Voldemort, it is for me to do! It’s my destiny, Mr. Weasley, according to a prophecy. I need to track down the Horcruxes.”
Arthur Weasley went white.
“Hor- Horcruxes? I’ve heard about those… Splitting your soul into another piece… So, Harry, are you saying that Voldemort has killed enough people to split his soul into another piece, and sealed it into a- A different item, or living thing?”
“Yes,” Harry nodded slowly. “But you missed out one little thing. He hasn’t split his soul into one piece. He’s split it into six.”
Mrs. Weasley gasped; as did Ginny, who had only heard Harry mention Horcruxes. She hadn’t realised that they were of so tremendous importance.
“Harry, you can’t do this alone-!”
“That’s why we’re going with him!” Hermione interrupted. Ron sank even lower into his chair.
“Ronald Billius Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley cried. “What, were you just going to sneak off in the middle of the night without telling us? Do you want to make me have a heart-attack with worry?” she turned to Ginny. “And I suppose you were planning to run off too?”
Ginny was just about to shake her head when Harry yelled,
“No! Ginny’s NOT coming! Its too- It’s too dangerous for her. If she were-.”
“Don’t you dare!” Ginny cut him off with a shout. “Don't you dare finish that sentence with, ‘if she were a bit older…’! I am just one year younger than you so don’t you dare!” she repeated. “I proved myself last time you refused to take me, didn’t I? Left Malfoy in a ‘flap’ in the fifth year, if you KNOW what I mean!”
“Yes! But this’ll be more dangerous!” Harry insisted.
“MORE dangerous? More dangerous than fighting a castle of Death Eaters at the end of last term? I don’t think so, Harry. How are going to manage this on your own, eh? If you’re worried about me being sucked into your world, then it’s too late. I was sucked in long ago, in our second year, to be exact. Stop trying to protect me and let me help you!”
There was a painfully long silence. Then…
“Are you- are you sure? After everything that’s happened…”
“Of course I am, Harry!”
“No.”
Just one, small, significant word from the end of the table. Everyone turned to meet Mrs. Weasley’s forcibly calm face. “No.” The word was repeated. “My daughter is staying right where I can keep an eye on her.” She turned to Ron. “And so is my son. I cannot stop you, Harry, Hermione. You are of age and not my offspring. But I am keeping Ronald and Ginevra here where I can keep an eye on them for as long as I can!”
Both red-haired children began to argue at once.
“MU-UM-!”
“But mum you can’t stop us-!”
“Why can’t I-!”
“-I’m the same age as Harry and Hermione-!”
“-go?”
“-and of age, right?”
“-And I’ve been in danger before-!”
“Although Ginny isn’t-…”
“-I want to go!”
“IT’S NOT FAIR!” they both finished on a louder note.
“That’s enough!” said Mr. Weasley. “Molly, Ron’s of age, you can’t stop him, really.”
“Arthur! I’m not letting my children get killed-!”
“They won’t get killed!”
“You can’t be sure of that!”
“Mum! I’m sixteen! And besides, Hogwarts will be just as dangerous as anywhere else, now that- Now that Dumbledore is dead,” Ginny finished softly.
Mrs. Weasley hiccupped. There was now a silence that seemed to stretch out for hours, which was finally interrupted by a musical knock and a loud, flowery sounding,
“Hellooooo!”
“Mum?”
Mrs. Weasley stood silently and went to the front door, opening it. Before she did, she asked who they were ““It’s Fleur and Bill, Mum!”- and made sure it was them. They swept in, Fleur saying in her heavy, French accent,
“Eet is us, Molly Weasley! Bill ‘as been wanting too come visit you before ze wedding!”
“Yeah, she’s right. Seen as our wedding is in… When is it, Fleur?”
“On ze twenty-fifth of August, do you not remember?” Fleur said with a light laugh.
“Come into the kitchen, dears…” said Mrs. Weasley wearily, giving Bill a small hug.
Fleur flounced gracefully into the kitchen, and Harry heard Ginny whisper to Hermione,
“Urgh, not Phlegm again…”
Hermione gave a small laugh, and the two girls glared scornfully at Fleur as she embraced Harry, crying,
“Oh ‘Arry! Eet ees so good to see you again! Ze wedding ees so soon, no?” before kissing him twice on each cheek and doing the same to Ron, who grinned stupidly.
Mr. Weasley checked his watch. “Come on, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, up to bed. It’s quarter to twelve already!”
“Thank God, couldn’t bear to be around Phlegm any longer!” Ginny muttered, and the four left for the stairs.
“Where are you sleeping? Percy’s old room?” Harry asked Hermione, halfway up the stairs.
“No, Ginny’s, on the floor.”
“How come? Percy’s room is empty, and so’s Fred and George’s…” Harry wondered aloud.
“Because Fred and George filled theirs with all their rubbish, failed sweets and experiments and stuff, and you can’t even get through the door now, it’s so full!” Ron answered. “And Percy’s room is being kept for Bill and Fleur, Mum has been expecting them for a while now.”
“Oh yeah, I remember, the last time I stayed over they used their room for storage.”
“Well, this is our stop,” Hermione said, motioning at Ginny’s door. Ron was quite shocked when Hermione leaned forward, kissing his cheek, then hugging Harry, saying, “Well, ‘night. I’ll see you all in the morning…”
She opened Ginny’s bedroom door, and said, “Come on, Gin, it’s late, and tomorrow I want to show you that book…” the disappeared into the room.
“’Kay, I’ll be there in a minute,” Ginny answered, turning to the door before saying, “Goodnight Ron… And Harry.”
“’Night,” Harry answered, following Ron up to his room. When they had reached the door with The Chudley Cannons poster on it, Harry said, laughing,
“Ronald, you have a rather silly-looking smile on your face, and I don’t think it was from Fleur’s kiss.”
Ron’s ears, for the third time that day, went red.
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-GRUNT!!-
Harry Potter woke with a start. It took him a while to work out where he was, but after a couple of confused minutes it registered in his brain that he was at the Burrow, in a sleeping bag in Ron’s room. And to the left of him, was the cause of his abrupt awakening; Ronald, who at that very moment let out another grunting snore.
Groaning and rubbing his eyes, Harry sat up, throwing a pillow at Ron, who yawned and muttered,
“Wazzamatta, Potter, it’s the middle of the night and I’m trying to sleep!”
Harry glanced at the telltale ray of sunshine snaking through a gap in the curtains.
“Oh yeah, sure it’s the middle of the night,” he said. “That’s why your mother is cooking bacon downstairs then, I guess…”
Ron sat up too at that, moaning, “Fine, I’m up for Merlin’s sake!”
Harry got dressed while Ron dozed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a green T-shirt.
“Ron, get up! I have to go and face your parents now, after the argument where I sounded like a stubborn brat, and you’re coming with me. Now get up!”
Harry left Ron’s bedroom, starting down the stairs. He met Bill halfway down, who was coming out of the bathroom with toothpaste down his pyjamas, who said sleepily,
“Harry, good morning!”
Before disappearing back into Percy’s old room, which now had the words ‘guest room’ written on a piece of wood and nailed to the door.
Harry continued down the stairs, passing Fred and George’s empty, cold-looking room, then Ginny’s flowery smelling one. He reached the bottom and paused, thinking about his entrance. Should he apologise for insisting to stay away from Hogwarts? Should he stay silent? Should he-
“Well go on then!”
Harry jumped about two feet into the air, and whirled around to meet Ron’s happy, although admittedly rather tired-looking face.
“Scared? Paranoid, much?” Ron asked, grinning.
“Shut up, you!” Harry said, returning his friends grin and pushing open the kitchen door. Inside was Hermione, Ginny, and instead of Mrs. Weasley magically frying the bacon, Mr. Weasley stood in her position.
“Dad?” Ron said, surprised. “You’re cooking breakfast?”
Mr. Weasley nodded. “Your mother wanted a lie-in, so I came down instead.”
The two boys sat down at the table. Hermione glanced worriedly at Harry’s face. He had small blue lines underneath his eyes, and his black hair was sticking up in a way that somehow made him look tired.
“Are you… Are you okay? You look like you didn’t have a good night’s sleep…” she asked.
Harry smiled. “Have you ever tried sleeping with someone who snores and snorts like a pig in the vicinity?”
“I do NOT!” came an indignant voice on Ron’s side of the table.
“You do,” said the unusually quiet voice of Ginny from next to him. Ron was in a huff all through breakfast and ate his fried bread in silence.
It was a half an hour before Bill finally came down, Fleur behind him. The couple sat down, and Mr. Weasley offered them something to eat. After being served, Bill turned to Harry.
“Eh, Potter, how about a friendly, mini Quidditch match in the yard after breakfast? Me and Ron against you and Gin’? Fair?”
“Fair!” Harry agreed on a happier note, laying his plate on the counter next to the sink.
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After a while, the game drew to a close. Despite the ‘referee’ “ Hermione “‘s short attention span on the game (she had ended up reading a book after just three and a half minutes), Harry and Ginny won, twenty goals against fifteen; three of which Ron had scored.