Chapter Four â“ âFatherly Adviceâ
He was stirring, trying to wake up, but he couldnât. He had been asleep for so long. It felt as thought he hadnât been awake for years.
No, that wasnât right. He had never been awake. He had never felt even these weak stirrings of consciousness before. He had been sleeping forever. This feeling of wakefulness was something new.
If only he could move. He struggled to sit up, to stand, but his body would not respond. It would not move; it held him prisoner within himself.
He would have screamed, but he had no throat to make a sound. He would have cried, but he had no eyes for tears to fall from.
He slept, again. As he always had and forever would.
***
Growing up with the Dursleys, Harry was no stranger to household chores. He was amazed, however, at the difference it made to be asked to do them politely by a smiling Mrs. Weasley.
Cooking breakfast for a family who cared about him and would be grateful for his effort was, to him, no chore at all. It also doesnât hurt, Harry noted, that itâs a thousand times easier when you can use magic!
âMmmâŚthese are very good, Harry!â Mrs Weasley exclaimed upon tasting the scrambled eggs. âI donât think any of my children cook as well as you.â
âWell, I had a lot of practice growing up,â Harry answered. Mrs. Weasley looked uncomfortable; she knew all about the Dursleys, but Harry had never mentioned cooking breakfast for them every morning. He could see in her expression that she had just guessed it.
âThatâs terrible â“â she began, but then stopped herself. Harry saw a sudden gleam in her eye. âOn the other hand, it probably wouldnât have killed any of them to go hungry for a night if it got them to pay attention to their chores.â She sighed. âOh, itâs too late now. Theyâre all grown, and not one can make a decent meal for themselves.â
âIâm sure thatâs not true, Mrs. Weasley,â Harry said automatically, but then he wondered. The fact was, it might be true. He knew from experience that Ron couldnât cook, and although he had no basis for it, he assumed that the twins â“ George, he caught himself â“ ate out for every meal. He wondered about Ginny; he had no idea about her domestic skills. It doesnât matter, he decided. I wonât mind cooking every day when weâreâŚWhen they were what?
âHarry!â
Harry waved his wand and got hold of the whisk, which had wandered off from the eggs and was attacking Mrs. Weasleyâs hair. âIâm sorry. I got distracted for a minute.â
âOh, no harm done,â she said, giving him a knowing smile. I know what sheâs thinking: âOh, Harryâs such a good boy; heâll cook for my Ginny, heâll take such good care of her.â He hoped that was what she was thinking, at any rate; he dreaded how things would be if Mrs. Weasley disapproved of him and Ginny together.
Ginny chose that moment to come walking into the kitchen, yawning as she did. âI had the strangest dream last night,â she said by way of greeting.
I did too, come to think of it, Harry realized, just now remembering his own odd dream. âWhat was it?â
âItâs hard to describe. Nothing happened, exactly,â Ginny began, but stopped when she saw her motherâs expression. Mrs. Weasley was looking at her warily; it was a look that Harry had never seen Mrs. Weasley direct towards any of her children.
âWas itâŚdid you feel like you were trying to wake up, but you couldnât move? Or feel your body at all?â Mrs. Weasley spoke slowly, measuring every word.
That was it. That was my dream. âDid you feel like maybe you didnât even have a body? And then you wanted to scramble or fight or do anything, but you couldnât and you were trapped forever?â
Ginnyâs face drained of colour. âHarry? Mum? Whatâs going on?â
âDid you guys all have that dream too?â George asked, poking his head in and joining the conversation.
âI think everyone in the house did,â Mrs. Weasley said nervously.
Harry had never heard of such a thing. He had shared dreams with Voldemort, true, but that was thanks to their unique connection. And he and Ginny had a connection of their own, but it was a very personal one; not like this strange dream that⌠âIt didnât feel like any dream Iâve ever had before. It was likeâŚit didnât have anything to do with me, except that I was the one having it, if that makes sense.â
Ginny nodded. âIt does. Thatâs exactly what it was like. As if someone was sending it outâŚsending that dream to all of us.â
Harry would have wagered every galleon in his vault at Gringotts that, when Ginny had said âsomeone,â everyone in the room had precisely the same thought. Except me. I know what Voldemortâs dreams were like, and the dream last night wasnât anything like that.
He said as much to the Weasleys, and when that wasnât reassurance enough, Ginny pointed out that she, too, had once had Voldemort in her head, and this dream felt nothing like it. In the end, Harry suspected that Mrs. Weasley dropped the subject more because she didnât want to talk about those awful events in the Chamber of Secrets than because she was actually reassured, but whatever her reason she was willing to chalk it up to a one-time occurrence, and let the conversation turn to a more pleasant subject.
Ginny could not recall ever seeing Hermione Granger happier than an hour ago, when she walked into the Burrow with her parents in tow. She was absolutely beaming. And why shouldnât she be? Sheâs got her Mum and Dad back, sheâs a hero of the wizarding world, and after taking only seven years to do it, my brother finally managed to stop tripping over himself and realize that he belongs with her.
She did admit to a bit of surprise that Hermioneâs parents were asâŚwell, normalâŚas they appeared to be. Ginny had never met anyone whoâd been put under such a powerful Memory Charm and then lived with it for as long as they had. Sheâd expected them to betray some signs of what had been done to them. Sheâd seen firsthand the effect of the limited and relatively weak Memory Charms that her father and his colleagues at the Ministry sometimes had to perform; the subjects would be disoriented, would skip over their words, or have odd and unnerving pauses in their conversations.
But the Grangers did not show any side effects that Ginny could see. The only curious thing was the owl Hermione had sent from St. Mungoâs:
Ginny,
Mum and Dad are fine. The Healers took care of everything. We are staying here a little while longer to let Mum and Dad rest before we come to the Burrow.
They are perfectly normal, but please tell everyone NOT to ask them anything about the past year, and if they should bring up the topic, please go along with whatever they say. Do NOT let on that you or anyone know about the Memory Charms.
Iâll explain everything later.
Love from,
Hermione
Ginny had dutifully passed the word along, not that she thought anyone in the house needed to be told. The only concern she actually had was the same one her mother repeatedly voiced: that Dad would spend the whole time interrogating the Grangers about the details of Muggle life.
Her father behaved himself, though. It was actually her mother who ended up questioning them in detail. Everyone sat down to eat in the freshly de-gnomed garden (Ginny had bite marks on both hands thanks to an afternoon spent at the task), and somehow the topic of conversation turned to the Grangersâ profession. Mrs. Granger mentioned drilling, and her mother was unable to keep her curiosity in check.
âWhat do you mean when you say drilling? Arthur says a drill is a big metal tool that you use to make holes in the ground, or in walls.â
âWell, thatâs one kind of drill, yes,â Mrs. Granger replied. âBut we use smaller ones in our work.â
âI see. Arthur also says that drills run on eckeltricity, and they spin extremely fast.â
Ginny could see that it took some effort for Mrs. Granger to resist the temptation to correct her mother on âeckeltricity,â but somehow she did. âYes, thatâs exactly right.â
âSo what you do is, you take eckeltrictic tools that spin extremely fast, and you use them to make holes in peopleâs teeth.â (Mrs. Granger nodded in agreement.) âAnd then what?â
âWell, we fill in the hole. Back when I was in school, they still used lead, but now we use an artificial filling. Itâs sort of like plastic.â
âAnd people come to you voluntarily for this? Itâs not some sort of punishment for criminals? ThatâsâŚamazing.â Ginny had to agree with her mother; it sounded more like a torture method that an especially creative Death Eater might come up with than a legitimate medical procedure. But then again, a lot of Muggle medicine sounds horrible. Like when Dad was attacked by that snake, and they tried to sew up his skin with a needle and thread. As though he was a set of robes that needed mending, and not a human being!
Her Dad had eased the tension. âMolly, Iâm sure that the things our Healers do sound just as strange to them as their techniques do to us. But they work. Hugh and Jean here are experts. They have people lining up to come to them, isnât that right?â
Hugo â“ Ginny was finding it difficult to think of him as âHugoâ and not âMr. Grangerâ despite his and his wifeâs protestations all night long on the subject â“ blushed a bit. âWell, I wouldnât sayâŚwe do have something of a decent reputation, I suppose.â
âDad!â Hermione burst out. âYou were first in your class, and Mum was second! You were both written up in the Sunday Times, âLondonâs top dentists.â I had it framed for you, itâs probably still hanging up in the living room!â
âNow thereâs a surprise,â Harry said, a little more loudly than he intended. Not that every one of us wasnât thinking exactly the same thing! Heads turned to him, and he smiled sheepishly. âWhat? Hermione had to get it from somewhere, didnât she?â
Now it was Hermioneâs turn to blush. âItâs just too bad she missed her chance to finish her last year. Iâm sure she would have been Head Girl,â Jean said, causing Hermione to turn even redder.
âUhâŚabout that,â Hermione said in a very small voice. âIâŚwell, last week, I owled uhâŚProfessor McGonagall.â
âYou didnât,â Ron said. Oh, Iâm sure she did, Ginny thought, I should have known she would.
âI got her reply while we were at St. Mungoâs.â
âWhen?â Ron protested. âWe were together the whole time!â
âNot the whole time,â Hermione answered, now a shade of red that Ginny had never before seen on a human being. âI did have to go to the bathroom.â
âThe owl found you in the bathroom? You have got to be joking.â
Hermione was not joking. She had asked for permission to go to Hogwarts for her seventh year so that she could graduate properly, and, as she revealed to no oneâs surprise, Professor McGonagall had agreed. âShe also said,â Hermione continued, addressing Ron, âyou and Harry could come back as well. If you wanted to.â
Harry had been having a conversation with himself all day; he couldnât shake the question that had come to him while he was alone with Mrs. Weasley.
What do Ginny and I do now? You get married, and you have a whole load of children, and you live happily ever after.
Well, that sounds easy! It is. Whatâs the problem?
Letâs see. Iâm not even 18 yet, and sheâs not of age. Youâre 18 in a month, and sheâs an adult two weeks after that.
I donât have a job, or any plans for the future. Kingsley Shacklebolt â“ heâs the Minister of Magic, remember? â“ has done everything but give you an engraved invitation to join the Aurors. And even if he hadnât, you are the one who killed Voldemort. No oneâs going to say ânoâ to you.
I suppose thatâs true. Itâs not as though you need a job to support yourself anyway. Do you even know how much gold youâve got in your vault?
A lot, I guess. But I still donât knowâŚMuggles donât usually get married this young. And when they do, it always goes wrong. Look at the stories my aunt and uncle used to watch on the telly. Youâre going to believe stories on the telly over what you know in your heart? Youâre an idiot.
I never said I wasnât! Well, thereâs something we can agree on! What are you really afraid of?
That was the question. Harry couldnât say exactly what he feared. He loved Ginny; he had no doubts on that score. He knew she loved him; that wasnât up for debate. Her family liked him. Everyone (well, everyone except Ron) thought they belonged together. So what was the problem?
I wish I had someone to talk to whoâs been through all this already. I wish I could ask my Dad. Or Sirius. Or Remus. OrâŚsomeone. If the girl in question hadnât been Ginny, he would gladly have asked Mr. Weasley. Harry was sure heâd have good advice, but considering the circumstances, he wasnât an option. Neither, for the same reason, were Bill or Charlie or any of the other Weasleys.
Harry was so deep in these thoughts that he didnât realize he had walked back in the house, and he didnât see Mr. Granger there. He walked right into Hermioneâs father, knocking the man to the floor.
âIâm sorry,â Harry said, extending a hand to help him up. âI got distracted for a minute.â
âItâs no problem, Harry,â Mr. Granger said. âNo harm done.â
It occurred to Harry that Mr. Granger was someone who was experienced. He was married, and he had a child. He had made all the decisions that Harry was having such trouble with. Best of all, he wasnât related by blood to the girl that Harry had to decide about.
âCan I talk to you for a minute, Mr. Granger? I mean, in private?â
âOn one condition,â Mr. Granger said. âYou have to stop calling me âMr. Grangerâ and start calling me âHugo.â Iâm going to insist on that.â
Harry laughed. âIâll try,â he said, pulling up a chair.
Hugo did likewise. âWhatâs on your mind, Harry?â
A lot! âIâŚwell, I just need some advice. I mean, I hope this isnât too personal, I know I really donât know you very well, but youâre...â
Hugo smiled, clapped Harry on the back. âI think I know where this is going. Hermioneâs told us all about you and Ginny.â All about? What does that mean? âOh, donât take it the wrong way, Harry. She didnât tell us anything that anyone with a pair of eyes couldnât figure out from watching you and Ginny together.â
âUhâŚthatâsâŚgood?â Harry stammered.
âWell, are you happy when youâre with her?â
âHappyâ isnât the word. You have to go pretty far past âhappyâ to describe how I feel when Iâm with her. âDefinitely.â
âThen itâs good,â Hugo said. âSo whatâs got you so worked up?â
If I knew that, I wouldnât have to ask! âIâm not sure,â Harry answered, fidgeting in his chair. âI just feel likeâŚI donât know, as though Iâm too young to be making these decisions.â
âWhat decisions?â Hugo was serenely calm. Harry wondered if heâd be quite this calm if Hermione was the girl in question. I bet she is, too, Harry realized. I bet Ronâs having these same questions and doubts.
âIf I should marry her or not!â Harry spit out.
âYou cut right to the heart of things, Harry, Iâll give you that,â Hugo replied with a thoughtful expression. âDo you love her?â
âYes.â
âDoes she love you?â
âYes.â
âYou answered that pretty definitively. It must be nice to know that,â Hugo said. âI wasnât nearly that sure about Jeanâs feelings when I proposed to her.â He stared into the ceiling.
âWaitâŚyou proposed and you didnât know if she loved you or not?â
Hugoâs eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. âI thought she did. I hoped she would say yes, and I assumed she would,â he said. His eyes drifting downward, finally meeting Harryâs. âBut if you had asked me then if she loved me, I couldnât have answered as surely as you did.â
Harry could not imagine how much courage it must have taken for Hugo to propose like that. It was difficult enough thinking about building his future with Ginny when he knew for certain how she felt. âSo why did you propose to her?â
âWell, I was sure that I loved her. AndâŚoh, you wonât like this, but itâs the truth. I just knew it was the right time, and she was the right woman. There wasnât any logic or calculation to it. I felt it in my gut. And if you donât mind my saying so,â Hugo said, with a severe look in his eyes, âIâll wager you can feel it in yours, and all these questions are your brain trying to interfere with something your heart already knows.â
Is it really that simple? âButâŚâ
Hugo shook his head. âI know. Youâre still so young. Iâll tell you something else; weâve seen it with Hermione. Sheâs a lot more mature than any girl her age Iâve ever seen, and I think a lot of it has to do with being magical. I think that being a wizard forces you to mature faster. Youâve got these powers that you have to control, you have to master yourself a lot earlier and a lot more thoroughly than kids who arenât magical.â
Harry had never considered that, but it sounded reasonable. âSo youâre sayingâŚâ
âIâm saying youâre old enough to make a good decision. And that you already know what the right choice is, if youâll just get out of your own way long enough to see it.â
When he says it that way, it sounds so easy! Maybe it really IS that easy⌠âThanks, Mr. Gr â“ Hugo. Youâve been a big help.â
âOh, itâs nothing,â Hugo said, standing. âIf you do manage to figure it all out, Jean and I wouldnât say no to a wedding invitation.â
And with that, Hugo stood up and headed back to the party.
Harry Potter and the Castle of Dreams by starkllr
Chapter Notes: Thanks to LoonyPhoenix for Beta-ing!
There are four more chapters in Beta; we'll be getting to Hogwarts soon!