“What did Dad say?”
Harry was sitting on Ginny’s bed, having just come upstairs after a long conversation with her father. He had asked the opinion of everyone in the house, but it was Mr. Weasley’s that he had wanted the most. Having worked his entire adult life in the Ministry, Harry had hoped Mr. Weasley would have a useful perspective on the choice he was faced with.
“He wasn’t helpful at all,” Harry shook his head. He had been surprised at how unwilling Mr. Weasley was to give any sort of advice. I guess I understand, Harry thought, he doesn’t want to push me one way or the other, he was just trying to let me make my own decision. But that’s the whole problem! I don’t know what the right decision is!
“That’s strange,” Ginny said, rubbing Harry’s shoulders, drifting off into her own thoughts. He could tell what was going through her mind: her father was never shy about giving advice, especially when directly asked for it.
“I know,” said Harry. “That’s why I thought he would be helpful. No luck, though. And there was something else. I don’t know what it was, but there’s definitely something he wanted to keep a lid on.”
Ginny sat up straight. “No, that can’t be right. What would he have to hide from us?”
“I don’t know, Ginny. Maybe you can get it out of him? I bet he can’t say no to you.” He’s not the only one, either!
“I hope you’re right,” she replied.
***
A week later, neither Harry nor Ginny had discovered Mr. Weasley’s secret. That in itself was frustrating, but what made it far worse was that Hermione, of all people, apparently knew it, and she was infuriatingly tight-lipped about it.
Even Ron had proved unable to worm the information out of her; it had led to several rows, including a particularly memorable one at the dinner table that had ended with mashed potatoes all over the walls, the floor, and Ron’s head.
On a cloudy Saturday morning, a distraction arrived in the form of a peck of owls, carrying letters for Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry.
Each of them received an identical Hogwarts letter, detailing the book and supply lists for the upcoming year. Ron, Ginny and Hermione each had a second letter from the school as well; all three letters were much heavier than usual, and the reason was revealed as they were opened and a badge fell out of each one.
“They must be joking!” Ron exclaimed as he inspected the shiny new Head Boy badge in his hands. It’s his vision in the Mirror of Erised coming true, Harry realized as he watched his friend marveling over this new and unexpected honour. Hero, check. Outshining all his brothers, helping save the world ought to count for that, check. Head Boy, check. The only thing he’s missing is…
“Quidditch captain?” Ginny breathed, running to Harry and throwing her arms round him. “Me, Quidditch captain? That’s so…but it should be you, Harry.” He hugged her back and gave her a quick kiss before replying.
“I’m sure McGonagall thinks I’ll have too much going on, if I agree to help teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. No time for Quidditch, I reckon,” he said, quickly adding, “But you’re the better choice anyway!”
“Nice save,” Ron muttered under his breath with a laugh. “So what’ve you got there, as if we need to ask,” he said, turning to Hermione. To no one’s surprise, she held the badge for Head Girl in her hands.
Harry, too, had a second letter, but his was not from Hogwarts. “That’s my father’s writing,” Hermione said, taking the letter from him. “What’s he doing writing to you?”
“I wrote to him and asked for advice. I asked him how he decided to become a dentist. I thought it would be good to get a different perspective.” He took the letter back from Hermione and tore it open.
Dear Harry,
I completely understand your dilemma. I was faced with a similar one when I was only a few years older than you. I hope you will find my experience useful as you make your choices.
I began my University education with the intention of becoming a physician. I performed tolerably well; I was not at the top of my class, nor did I embarrass myself.
In my second year, I enrolled in a two week seminar on Oral Surgery. In part I wanted to expand my knowledge in an area that I knew very little about, and also in part, I wanted to sit next to a lovely woman named Jean whose attention I had been trying to attract, unsuccessfully, for many months.
To my surprise, I took to the subject, and not merely because of the person I was sitting next to. I looked forward to each day’s lecture in a way that I had not looked forward to any other courses. I felt that I had an intuitive skill that I had not previously discovered. It was very exciting.
I signed up the next term for an elective course, and my feelings were confirmed. I had a real talent. I could excel in dentistry.
That raised a difficulty. It was not practical to study both medicine and dentistry. Becoming a physician had been my goal for years, but this new field I was learning about appealed to me far more.
I could be a mediocre physician, or an excellent dentist. That’s how my father put it to me when I asked his advice. I had feared that he would be angry or disappointed, but he was not. He told me something that I have never forgotten. “Hugo, there are far too many average people in the world, and far too few outstanding ones. If you have the chance to be outstanding, don’t waste it by being average. The world won’t thank you, and more importantly you won’t thank yourself.”
He was right. So I will pass his advice on to you. If you think that you truly excel at teaching, don’t deny yourself “ or your future students. You will be happier, and you will be doing a greater service to the world.
I hope you’ve found this helpful. Please write me back and let me know what you decide to do.
Sincerely,
Hugo Granger
PS Please give my love to Hermione
As the letter was passed around, everyone “ except Harry “ failed to notice that there was another letter addressed to him. He picked it up and opened it…
***
“So your Dad only went to dentist school because he fancied your Mom? That’s brilliant!”
Ron was, in Ginny’s opinion, enjoying the revelations of Hermione’s father far too much. She’s one more joke away from cursing him into next week, she decided. “Let it go, Ron. Before Hermione sends those birds after you again.”
“Thank you, Ginny. I’d forgotten all about that,” Hermione replied, brandishing her wand threateningly. She sat next to Ginny on Harry’s bed; Ron sat across from them on his own; he shrank back a bit at Hermione’s words.
“What was Harry doing writing to your Dad anyway?” he said, trying his best to change the subject.
“He wanted the opinion of an adult who doesn’t already work for the Ministry of Magic,” Ginny said. “I can see why. Our Dad isn’t going to tell him not to go work for the Ministry, is he? Especially now the war’s over and we’ve got a real Minister for a change. He just wanted some advice from someone who’s…”
“Objective?” Hermione finished for her. “That’s what he told me. He actually asked me if it was alright to write to my father.”
That’s Harry. Polite to a fault. Usually, anyway. “Did Harry tell either of you where he was going today?” He had headed off first thing in the morning, leaving with Mr. Weasley and Percy. Ginny was mystified; he hadn’t even waited to say “goodbye” to her.
As if by magic, as though her thoughts had summoned him, the door opened and Harry appeared in the doorway. He held several letters in his hand.
“I’m sorry I ran out this morning. I had something to take care of at the Ministry. And…uh…at…well, you’ll see.” He handed a letter to Ron, and one to Hermione, and watched, smiling, as they opened them with puzzled expressions.
They had nearly identical reactions. Both Ron and Hermione read, and re-read their letters with disbelief etched on their faces. After several minutes, Ginny had had enough, and tore the letter from her brother’s hand.
Reward? Bounty? Five thousand Galleons? What in Merlin’s name?
“Harry,” Hermione said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “What did you do?”
“I did what was fair,” he answered. “Did you know that there was a twenty five thousand Galleon bounty on Voldemort’s head before Scrimgoeur was killed?”
There were blank stares all around. “I didn’t know either. But there was. And I guess even after the Death Eaters took over, nobody bothered to rescind it. It was there all along. That was the other owl I got yesterday. It was from the Ministry, saying I was entitled to the reward for killing Voldemort.”
“So…not that I’m complaining, mind, what the ruddy hell is going on with this?” Ron said, gesturing to his letter.
“Isn’t it obvious, Ronald?” Hermione said, going over to Harry and hugging him.
“I didn’t do it alone, did I? There were seven Horcruxes, weren’t there?”
“We each destroyed one…and one of those letters is for Neville, isn’t it?” Hermione asked.
“Right. And the other is for Aberforce. Dumbledore destroyed one, too, so I reckoned his brother ought to get his share. One share for me…”
“None for Crabbe, I hope,” Ginny said with a grin.
“No,” Harry said with a shake of his head. “Split five ways, five thousand Galleons each, seems fair to me.”
Ginny agreed. She knew some of Harry’s share would be spent on her; he wouldn’t be able to resist buying something extravagant. Not that I don’t want him to, but he should treat himself. It’s his reward, he certainly earned it!
“It’s my money, Ginny, if I want to spend some of it on you, I can,” he answered her thought, receiving a pillow over the head from her in response.
“Noble as ever. That’s my Harry,” she said, putting an arm around him. “I suppose my birthday is coming up in a few days, isn’t it?”
That got her a kiss from Harry, and then, a moment later when her guard was down, a pillow in the face right back.
***
The next few weeks seemed to Harry to fly by. He had indeed spent some of the reward money on Ginny; she now had a brand new Nimbus 2002 to match his own.
Her whole birthday was Quidditch-themed; in addition to the broom, Harry bought tickets to a Holyhead Harpies match. Afterwards, Ginny declared it the best present she had ever received.
Harry spent the majority of his time mulling over his choices; he had finally come to the conclusion that he didn’t actually need to make a final decision now. He could teach the first years this year as Professor McGonagall asked and see how it went, and with that experience he would “ hopefully “ have a better idea whether he wanted to be a professor or an Auror.
Besides that, Harry busied himself with buying his supplies, playing Quidditch with Ron and Ginny out in the backyard, and trying to guess who the regular Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be. Between the three of them and Hermione, they could not agree on who it might be.
***
The day before he was to leave for Hogwarts, Harry, along with Hermione and the entire Weasley family, visited George at St. Mungo’s. They were only allowed to see him one person at a time; the Healers were concerned about overwhelming him.
It seemed to Harry that his spirits were slightly improved, and the desire to hurt himself appeared to be, mostly, passed. He knew that Mrs. Weasley would continue to visit every day, and that Mr. Weasley was reading Muggle books on dealing with grief and depression as fast as Hermione could provide them to him.
“He is going to be alright,” Harry told Ginny in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. “He’ll be back home before you know it,” he continued, praying silently that his words were true.
As they stood in the sterile white hallway outside George’s room, Ginny squeezed his hand. “I know you’re not as confident as you sound. But thank you,” she said in reply.
After everyone had spent time with George, they all returned to The Burrow, to pack and prepare for the morrow’s journey.
Mrs. Weasley came close to tears during dinner with the realization that her home would very soon be empty again; Mr. Weasley was evasive and scattered, and, in the middle of the meal, departed without explanation via the Floo after receiving an owl, the contents of which he shared with no one. He returned an hour later, carrying a large, wrapped box, about which he would say nothing.
He continued to say nothing for the remainder of the evening and the following morning, except to wish his children, as well as Harry and Hermione, good luck. He then left Mrs. Weasley to shepherd them to King’s Cross and the Hogwarts Express.
It was, Harry thought, a very odd way to begin his final year of school.
Harry Potter and the Castle of Dreams by starkllr
Chapter Notes: Sorry for the long delay! Chapter 8 is done, and Chapter 9 is in progress...