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Kairos Devan: Last Born Goddess of Writing

Chapter Two: Back To The Burrow

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Harry's back at the Burrow after a walk with Mr. Weasley.  Just what in "Bloody Hell" is going on?

After steadying himself and dusting himself off, he looked around the kitchen.  Arthur Weasley was still running around the kitchen, talking in fragments and not making much sense.  “Arthur, dear,” Molly said, trying to get his attention.  “Arthur, look who’s . . .Arthur, please.”

           

“Molly, what is it?  I’ll be off as soon as . . .Harry, my boy, you’re here at last.  We’ll be going Molly.  I’ll send Harry back directly.”  Arthur grabbed his briefcase, adjusted his glasses, and then he and Harry went out the front door.  Mr. Weasley had a brand new car.  Well, it was new for him.  It was another Ford Anglia, green this time.  Mr. Wesley winked at Harry as they both climbed into the front of the car. 

           

It took some time, but they finally entered Mr. Weasley’s small office.  “Let’s see now,” he said as he browsed over some parchment.  “Okay, then, let’s go find Kingsley,” Mr. Weasley said, “we can’t draw attention to ourselves.  Fudge is still running around like mad.” 

           

They made their way quickly and quietly to Kingsley’s desk.  Looking quite surprised, Kingsley looked up and saw the expression on Arthur’s face.  “Arthur, what is it?  Nothing bad could have happened, I’d know . . .” He fell silent.  “Arthur, let’s go for a walk, shall we?”  Kingsley gathered his cloak and briefcase, leading Arthur and Harry back out of the Ministry of Magic. 

           

As soon as they were a block or two away from the entrance, Arthur went into detail of everything Harry had told him.  Then Arthur provided his on insight to the whole situation.  Kingsley stayed quiet the whole time Arthur spoke.  Harry remained quiet, too, in case there was something he was missing.  “So, that’s what we’re going on,” Arthur finished, “is it enough to find her?”

           

“Send Harry home, Arthur,” Kingsley finally said.  “I will talk to Dumbledore within the hour and then send word to you.  It’s the best I can do without dragging attention to myself or you.”  Arthur agreed, for the most part.  “Harry is staying at the Burrow with my family.  Send word there.  Must be getting to work.  I’ll send Harry on his way.” 

           

Harry ended up going to the Burrow with Tonks, who had come in for some paperwork at the office and wanted to see how Ginny was doing.  They used Floo Powder to get back.  It was lunchtime and Molly Weasley was busy in the kitchen.  “Oh, Harry, you made it back.  Hermoine came while you were gone.  She and Ron are out back, I expect.  Go on then and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”  She gave Harry a hug and sent him out back. 

           

“I don’t think Harry will understand,” Hermoine was saying, “I think he’ll take it the wrong way.”  Harry noticed Pig zooming around like an insect around them while Crookshanks ran after crazed garden gnomes. 

“I think Harry will be okay,” Ron was saying.  “He’s been through everything else.  It’s not like he won’t have us still.  It’s just that we’ll also have each other.”  He reached over and took her hand in his as she blushed.

           

“Well, good afternoon to you, too,” Harry said.  Crookshanks came over and rubbed against Harry’s ankles.  Hermoine and Ron both jumped and released each other’s hands.  “Don’t let me stop you.  It’s about time, you two were driving me crazy.  Let me tell you that I have had enough to worry about without wondering when you two were going to come to your senses and quite arguing all of the time.” 

           

“Harry,” Hermoine gasped, “how long have you known?”

           

“Long enough,” Harry said, picking Crookshanks up.  He quickly put Crookshanks down.  Thinking of Hermoine’s pet made him think of his deceased Godfather.  Speaking of pets, who was taking care of Buckbeak?  As Harry was about to ask this, Hermoine interrupted.

           

“Have you heard, Harry?  I’m going to train to be an enchantress,” Hermoine said, looking pleased with herself.

           

“What exactly is that,” Harry asked, slightly interested.  Hermoine started to explain.  They were females (hence the Enchantress part, she quickly described their male counterparts – Enchanters – then continued) who traveled and took care of different problems for both the magical and non-magical. 

           

“We get a mentor of sorts who takes us through our whole three year training,” Hermoine finished.  “I get to meet her soon,” Hermoine added, “she’ll come here of course.  Her letter said she had something to finish up before she could take my training on.  Get this, she started when she was three!”

           

Harry was impressed.  Mrs. Weasley called them inside for lunch.  “Now, you three, we’re going to have a guest for dinner.  Bill, Charlie, AND Percy will be here as well.  No funny business and be on your best behavior.  Bill’s kind of nervous.”

 

“Why is Bill nervous, Mum?”

           

“Never you mind, Ron,” Mrs. Weasley said, busing herself with some knitting as a rag and a bottle of cleaner did some dusting in the other room and some dishes were washing themselves.  She hummed to herself the rest of the afternoon while the three of them spent it in Ron’s bedroom making predictions of the coming year at Hogwarts and the events outside of their beloved school.

           

Harry had come close twice to telling them about Aurora.  He wasn’t sure it was a good idea, seeing as he didn’t know who she was either.  He came close to ask Mrs. Wesley about her, but decided against that, too.  He soon kept himself content with food and an old book about Quidditch that Ron was letting him borrow.  “It use to be Charlie’s,” he said, simply. 

           

Harry noticed a lot of things different about The Burrow.  He guessed that this was from Fred and George’s joke shop.  When he asked about it, Ron told him they were doing great but not to bring it up.  “Mom’s happy for them, but she hasn’t really accepted it yet.  She still thinks they’ll come to their senses.”

           

Harry hoped not. 

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Last Born Goddess of Writing: Kairos Devan