Avalon - Chapter 53 - Muggles
Muggles
It wasn’t lost on Harry just why Scrimgeour requested they meet in his office. It meant that he needed to pass through the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, where a slew of journalists and dozens of other members of the public would be.
“Have they not fixed it yet?” he asked Dumbledore with a frown.
The old man smiled from beneath his beard.
“It is not so simple to fix damage like this, Harry. Some things are even beyond magical repair. I expect the Ministry will have to pay a considerable sum to right it.”
Harry merely nodded in response and frowned at a rather keen woman stepped in front of them.
“Harry, is it true that you are here to submit your name to become the next Minister of Magic?” she asked.
The quill floating next to her seemed to be waiting for a response and was poised to scribble it on the parchment it rested upon.
Harry only quirked an eyebrow in response.
He had no intention of speaking with Rita Skeeter after the damage she’d done in the past, to both him and Hagrid.
For now, Harry chose to ignore her, but if she persisted in being a thorn in his side, he would not show such restraint, even if they were in the Ministry of Magic itself.
“She is a tiresome gossip,” Albus murmured as they continued on their way. “I’m afraid in your absence, she has only become more brazen. She spearheaded a campaign of blame against me for what happened to you and was quite vocal in her thoughts on my mental capacity when I told the truth of the Dark Lord.
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
“Maybe my wife would like to have a word with her, if she continues to hassle me.”
Albus only shook his head, but Harry didn’t miss the look of amusement the man wore.
“You can go straight through, Professor. Mr Scrimgeour is waiting in his office for Mr Potter.”
“Thank you, Derrick,” Albus replied.
The man’s gaze was fixed on Harry.
It was something he’d managed to avid for the most part over the last decade, but being back here, he knew he’d have to get used to it once more.
“Just this way, Harry,” Albus explained, gesturing towards a large golden lift.
As they entered, the headmaster pressed one of the many buttons and reached up to grab hold of one of the dangling handles. Harry followed suit, just in time to prevent himself being hurled into the wall as the contraption shot sharply to the left.
“Perhaps I should’ve warned you.”
“Maybe,” Harry chuckled. “If I worked here, I don’t think I’d leave this. It’s fun.”
“Not many think so. There have been countless attempts to replace the transport system within the Ministry, but all have fallen on deaf ears. It is certainly a unique way of ensuring we keep our wits about us.”
Harry nodded and steadied himself as the lift came to a screeching halt.
“Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” a feminine voice announced.
They stepped into the corridor and found themselves in a large rectangular room full of men and women milling about in red robes.
With Voldemort’s return having been made public, Harry expected the Aurors were busier than ever.
“It has certainly caused quite the stir.”
“It has indeed,” Albus sighed. “I fear the Ministry is facing quite the uphill battle, and I expect much of those are from concerned citizens who believe that Tom is lurking in every corner of the country,” he added, pointing to the dozens of paper aeroplanes shooting back and forth above them.
“People are scared, as they should be.”
Albus nodded and nudged Harry’s shoulder.
“Here comes Rufus. He is a very respected man, Harry. A decorated Auror in his own right, who earned his position here. That does not mean he isn’t beyond reproach, and his motivations, though pure for the most part, may prove to be irksome. I urge you only to listen to what he says. Remember, he is looking to curry favour and use your influence to help him.”
Harry frowned but nodded his understanding.
He despised politics, but if he was to avoid Riddle seizing any power within the Ministry itself, he knew he would need to play his part.
“Mr Potter!” Scrimgeour greeted him enthusiastically, almost tearing Harry’s shoulder from its socket from the vigorous handshake. “Please, join me in my office away from the prying eyes and ears.”
He felt as though he was a prized colt on display as Scrimgeour wrapped and arm around his shoulder and led him through the heart of the department he was in charge of.
Most of the Aurors looked at him with an expression of curiosity, some offering him nods of recognition, and a few even waving as they passed them by.
“Seems as though I’m popular,” Harry snorted amusedly.
“They respect you,” Scrimgeour replied. “You stood up against the Dark Lord and you fought him off. Do you have any idea how few people can claim to have done so and survived? During the first war, I lost many of my colleagues for trying to do the same thing. I only know of two people who have lived through an encounter like that, and you’re both walking next to me.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to sweeten me up.”
Scrimgeour shook his head.
“I speak only the truth, Mr Potter. It is not in my nature to kiss anyone’s arse, and I have no intention of starting now. This way.”
Scrimgeour had paused outside an office on the far side of the department and gestured for Harry and Dumbledore to enter. Upon doing so, Scrimgeour followed and closed the door behind him before drawing his wand.
With it, he locked the door and cast a series of detection charms, nodding to himself when he was done.
“We cannot be too careful,” Scrimgeour sighed. “During the last war, the Ministry was not a secure place. I do not doubt that we have our share of spies, even within my own department, but they will be rooted out. Anyway, that is not why I asked to speak with you, Mr Potter. As you are undoubtedly aware, Fudge has resigned from his post as Minister of Magic, and a replacement must be found.”
“And you would like me to advocate for you.”
“Yes,” Scrimgeour said unashamedly. “I fought against him during the first war, and I clawed my way up the ranks here to the position I have now. I am not a man dazzled by gold, I just believe I am the very best chance we have at defeating him and his followers.”
Scrimgeour was honest, at the very least, or he believed himself to be truthful.
Regardless, Harry believed what the man was saying, and he nodded.
“I have my own stipulations.”
“As do I,” Scrimgeour returned evenly. “You first.”
“I will not be speaking to the press, or shaking hands with people, or kissing their babies. I want no part of the politics.”
Scrimgeour held up a hand.
“That would not be something I require of you, but I would ask for you to accept a position on the Wizengamot. Your grandfather held a seat, as did many other Potters before him.”
Harry looked towards Dumbledore who nodded.
“I can do that, but only if Sirius Black is given a fair trial. He is innocent of what he was imprisoned for, and the matter should easy enough to clear up. I have memories that can be shared, and Veritaserum will serve to clear his name.”
“Is he truly innocent?” Scrimgeour asked sceptically.
“He is.”
The man hummed thoughtfully before nodding.
“Then he will be granted a trial, but if he is found to be guilty, he will be imprisoned again.”
“That’s fine. What else?”
“You will work with me, Harry. Most of the Aurors out there have no understanding of what the first war was like, and do not know what is coming for them. You showed them that he can be beaten, and it would go along way for them to know that you are on our side.”
“And they will see that when I take up a seat on the Wizengamot, and even more so when I prove to be wherever the Dark Lord will show his face. I will not hesitate in confronting him at eery turn.”
Scrimgeour nodded.
“Then I would say we have reached an accord,” he declared, offering Harry his hand.
He accepted it, and though he could think of nothing worse than working with the Ministry, doing so would certainly afford him some additional protection from any ramifications that might arise from what he may have to do to seize the victory he intended to achieve by any means necessary.
“Then I will speak on your behalf. I’m sure Rita Skeeter and the rest of the nosy gits out there will be interested to hear that I am supporting you.”
“That would be most appreciated,” Scrimgeour said sincerely, clapping Harry smartly on the shoulder.
He wasn’t certain how he felt about the man, not yet, at least, but Scrimgeour at least had the guts to put himself in the firing line in a bid to see the end of Voldemort once and for all.
To Harry, that said much about him, though just how good as a Minister he would prove to be remained to be seen.
Harry would reserve his judgement for the time being, but he would be watching closely.
(Break)
Morgana continued to pick the grapes from the stem, aware that Hermione was shooting furtive glances towards her. With a sigh, she turned towards the girl.
“If there is anything you’d like to ask me, you can.”
Hermione looked nervous for a moment before releasing a deep breath.
“It’s just something I overheard about Harry being friends with King Arthur.”
Morgana frowned and nodded.
“They are friends.”
“Well, in the stories we know about King Arthur, you’re not exactly depicted in the best light.”
“I’m not?” Morgana asked interestedly.
Hermione shook her head.
“In the stories, you’re an evil witch who can shapeshift, use telepathy, and lots of other things,” she finished weakly.
Morgana giggled amusedly before changing her features to replicate the girl sitting opposite her, eliciting a gasp from Hermione.
“You’re a metamorph!”
“A metamorph?”
“It means that you can change your appearance.”
“I can,” Morgana confirmed, “but I can do much more than that. I am not an evil witch, however. Maybe I could’ve been. Harry came into my life when I needed him most. Who knows what may have happened if he hadn’t, but make no mistake, I could be a plague on this country if I chose to be.”
Hermione swallowed deeply as she nodded.
“Then I’m glad you met Harry. He’s…”
“Everything he should be,” Morgana interjected. “Back home, he is highly thought of by most. He was even knighted by Arthur, for what that is worth.”
“That is the highest honour a king can give, even here, in the muggle world.”
Morgana snorted.
“The magical world here is confusing enough for me,” she sighed. “I’m still getting used to using a shower and those toilet things. It feels strange to me, and it scared me when the water sprayed…well, I don’t need to tell you where it sprayed.”
Hermione fought the urge to laugh but failed miserably.
“It’s called a bidet. It cleans you when you’re finished.”
Morgana shook her head.
“I think Harry didn’t tell me about it intentionally. He found it rather funny when I screamed.”
“He definitely did it on purpose,” Hermione grumbled amusedly. “He does have a mischievous side to him.”
Morgana hummed.
“Like sticking me on the back of a broom and flying as fast as he can?”
“Oh, that’s just Harry. I’ve never seen anyone who can fly as well as him, so you’re safe with him. Did you know he outflew a dragon?”
“I did. Did you know he killed one?”
Hermione’s eyes widened.
“He killed a dragon?”
“And saved hundreds of lives. Back home, they call him the Dragonslayer, or the Crow. It depends on who you ask.”
“How did he kill a dragon?” Hermione whispered.
“That is where my second moniker comes into it,” Harry sighed as he entered the kitchen.
Hermione’s eyes widened comically as Harry turned into a crow and jumped onto the table in front of her.
“Harry?” Hermione asked. “Is that really you?”
She gasped as he turned back into his human form, and Harry shot her a grin.
“It’s me, but I don’t think I need to tell you that this is one of the secrets I wish for you to keep.”
Hermione nodded.
“You’d trust me with that?”
Harry shrugged as he took a seat and began peeling a banana.
“You were the only person that believed me when I said I didn’t put my name in the goblet. You more than earned my trust.”
Hermione smiled and shook her head.
“You know, when you first arrived, I couldn’t believe it was really you. I can’t explain the magic that has taken place for this to happen, and for you to have spent more time away than it has passed her, but it is you, isn’t it?”
“It’s me,” Harry chuckled. “Would it help if I told you I shoved my wand up a troll’s nose during our first year at Hogwarts, and that you and I used a time turner at the end of our third year to help Sirius? Remember when I thought my father was still alive, that he had been the one to cast the patronus?”
Hermione swallowed deeply and wiped an errant tear from her cheek.
“Of course I remember,” she murmured. “This is all just really strange. You’re a grown man now, Harry.”
“Don’t you think it is odd for me to see all of you almost the same as you were when I left? It’s been almost ten years, Hermione. My life isn’t what it once was. You went to muggle school for a while. You must’ve learned about Britain a thousand years ago.”
“I did, and I may have visited the library today,” Hermione admitted. “Britain is in for some big changes.”
Harry could only chuckle in response.
“That is Hermione’s answer to everything. Not that it hasn’t proved useful in the past, but if it isn’t in a book, it isn’t worth knowing if you’re her.”
Hermione rolled her eyes at him before throwing herself at him.
Harry managed to catch her and prevent the chair he was sitting in from toppling over.
“I missed you so much,” she whispered. “I thought…”
Harry rubbed her back comfortingly.
“I know,” he murmured. “I saw my own grave.”
“You just never came back. When the time ran out, Dumbledore spoke with the Chieftain of the Merepeople, and he said you’d never arrived in the village.”
“I didn’t make it that far,” Harry sighed. “The lady came for me.”
“So, King Arthur really is real?”
Harry nodded.
“It’s not the same as what I expect the stories here tell, just like Salazar isn’t the same. He’s a pain in the arse at times, but he is one of the kindest and most caring people you could ever hope to meet. All of the Founders are in their own way, Rowena was especially.”
“Was?”
“She died not so long ago. It was like losing a mother.”
“I’m so sorry, Harry. I don’t think any of us have really thought about how hard your life has been.”
“It’s not been so bad,” Harry said with a smile. “It’s been kinder to me than being here ever was. Yes, there’s war and other unpleasant things, but my life is simple enough. We live simply, but we are happy. All that matters is that you’re healthy, warm, well-fed, and that you have someone to love as much as you love them,” he added, nodding towards Morgana.
“Even if she is an evil witch,” Morgana broke in amusedly.
“I didn’t mean that’s what you are,” Hermione defended.
Morgana held up a placating hand.
“If I hadn’t of met Harry, I may well have become that very thing. I despise Myrddin with everything I am because of how he influenced others to treat me. Only Salazar stood up to him when it mattered, and until Harry came along, he looked out for me. Since Harry arrived, we have looked out for each other.”
Hermione smiled warmly at them both.
“You don’t have any children yet?”
“No, but Harry will be very busy when he has finished fighting,” Morgana answered. “I want as many as he can give me.”
Hermione’s cheeks reddened, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Sirius as he entered the kitchen.
“You’re looking rather flushed,” he commented.
“Hermione just learned that Harry and I would like to have lots of babies.”
“Ah, I didn’t need to hear that either,” he grumbled as he took a seat.
“Well, would you like to know that you will be having a trial in the near future?” Harry asked.
“I will?”
Harry nodded.
“A part of the deal I made with Scrimgeour was that you would be given a fair trial to prove your innocence.”
“What if he double-crosses you?” Sirius asked worriedly.
“Then I will make the damage I did in the atrium look like a happy accident,” Harry replied darkly. “You have nothing to worry about. We both know it’s only a formality. You’ll be a free man soon enough.”
Sirius nodded uncertainly.
“I trust you, Harry,” he assured his godson.
“Good,” Harry declared as he stood.
“Where are you going?” Morgana asked.
“I am going to take you into the muggle world,” Harry answered. “I want you to see for yourself why it is best that magicals do not involve themselves in the affairs of our counterparts. Are you coming, Hermione? You’re more knowledgeable about it than me?”
Hermione nodded and Harry took Morgana by the hand.
“Just stay close,” he implored. “This will be quite the shock.”
Morgana suddenly felt apprehensive.
It wasn’t like Harry to be so cautious, but she trusted him to know that she would be safe with him.
Still, that didn’t stop her feeling nervous, and as the trio exited Grimmauld Place, she got her first real glimpse of what Britain would one day become.
(Break)
“What are your thoughts, Severus?” the Dark Lord asked curiously.
Severus could only shake his head at the question.
“My Lord, such magic is beyond my understanding,” he murmured. “It is imprecise, unexplored, and something that should not be delved into. The consequences could be quite catastrophic.”
The Dark Lord nodded thoughtfully.
“I agree with you, Severus, and my intent is only to understand what magic was used to transport Potter through the veil. Augustus?”
Rookwood released a deep breath.
“We know nothing of it, my lord. Many of us have studied the veil extensively, and we could not even decipher the runes etched into it. They are like no other language that has been discovered. All we know is that anything that goes in never returns.”
“But it must lead somewhere.”
“Or to nowhere,” Augustus replied darkly. “It could be a one-way opening, and anything attempting to go the opposite direction could be sent to a purgatory of sorts. We tried all manner of magicks, and even simply tying a rope to an object. The Unspeakable that did that was killed by whatever power lurks in the veil.”
“Could it be sentient?”
Augustus frowned for a moment.
“Perhaps,” he said carefully, “but it does not speak, nor can it be controlled. It is rather benign unless provoked.”
The Dark Lord hummed as he leaned back in his chair.
“Then perhaps we will leave it be, for now,” he mused aloud. “Severus, how are my followers recovering?”
“Well enough, but they will need another day or so to be at their best. I will administer the final potions tomorrow morning. To do so sooner would do more harm than good.”
“Then our work will continue tomorrow evening,” Lord Voldemort declared. “I will pick a suitable location. It will be quite the welcome for whomever is chosen to be the new Minister of Magic.”
“It will, my lord,” Rookwood said with a smirk playing at his lips.
Severus said nothing.
As ever, the Dark Lord had given him little of use.
There was no details of where the attack would take place, but he knew that the Order, or the Aurors, would be faced with the very best of the Death Eaters.
Still, Severus was in no doubt that Potter would show.
Perhaps then he would be able to see and feel for himself what had become of the mediocre boy who’d been unable to complete even the simplest of brews without assistance.
Dumbledore seemed to think Potter had become something unlike even the headmaster himself and the Dark Lord, but Severus would reserve his judgement until he had seen it in the flesh.
(Break)
Never in her wildest imagination could she have envisioned what she did now.
For several minutes upon arriving in the centre of London, Morgana had been rooted to the spot by all that surrounded her.
Both Harry and Hermione had given her a brief description of what all the lights and sounds were, and even the metallic vehicles passing them by in the roads that had been built for them.
Even so, as overwhelming as each of these things were, it was the sheer number of muggles here that caught her off guard.
“Millions,” Harry explained. “There are millions all around the world.”
“Billions,” Hermione corrected.
“And how many magicals?”
“I don’t know the exact number, but just in Britain, we only number in the thousands.”
Morgana swallowed deeply as she nodded, but flinched as something loud sounded overheard.
“What is that?” she whispered worriedly.
“It’s called an aeroplane,” Harry answered. “It transports muggles from one country to another.”
“They can fly?”
“And they even sail across the seas in enormous ships. Horses aren’t used here anymore, and if you think what you see here is beyond what you could’ve imagined, just think of the weapons and other advancements. Magicals live in secret for a reason. It is safer for us, and safer for the muggles, that’s why the Statute of Secrecy was created,” Hermione explained.
Morgana nodded her understanding.
“That is why you are so against Myrddin doing what he is,” she said to Harry. “You see what the world will one day become, and how dangerous it will be.”
“Exactly,” Harry murmured. “Do you want to get out of here, or look around a little more?”
Morgana didn’t know how she felt about being here.
She certainly felt vulnerable, but she was also undeniably curious about the new world she was experiencing.
“We can stay a little while longer,” she decided. “It’s not as though I will get another opportunity like this. Maybe we can find something else useful.”
Harry nodded, and Hermione shot them a questioning look.
“You’re going to go back, aren’t you?” she asked sadly.
“It’s our home, Hermione,” Harry replied honestly. “I don’t belong here anymore. When Riddle is dead, we have to go back. There will be a goblin uprising soon, and my work is not done.”
Hermione nodded her understanding.
“I think I already knew,” she sighed. “You’ve built a life for yourself away from here.”
Harry offered her an apologetic smile.
“We did. I have friends, and responsibilities back there, and all of this is just not me, Hermione,” he explained, gesturing to the world around them.
“I get it, Harry,” Hermione assured him, “but I don’t think Sirius or Ron will. You know what he’s like.”
“He’s still the same then? I’ve not had much of a chance to speak with him.”
“I think he’s finding this difficult. You vanished a few years ago and came back a much different person. I imagine to him it’s like losing you all over again.”
Harry released a deep sigh.
“I will speak with him. Maybe we can play some Quidditch or something.”
Hermione nodded her appreciation.
“Come on, I don’t even think you have seen the underground, have you?”
“The underground?” Morgana asked with a frown. “What’s underground?”
“Trains,” Hermione answered with a grin. “You’ll see.”
(Break)
“I had hoped he would’ve decided to be a little more cautious after what happened,” Albus murmured unhappily.
“I thought he would,” Severus returned, “but the Dark Lord believes he still holds an advantage. All we can do is wait and see what it is he will do, and where.”
Albus deflated.
“There will be much more blood spilled, I fear. The Dark Lord will not confront Harry soon. He will rely on his former tactics.”
“I believe that is his plan, headmaster. He has seen how dangerous Potter is, and the Death Eaters will be instructed not to engage him. He knows enough of the prophecy to know that it would be foolish to do so.”
“Indeed,” Albus agreed. “I will call a meeting, Severus. The Order must be made aware of what is coming.”
(Break)
It had been an eye-opening day for his wife, but Harry understood it.
He’d known what to expect for the most part, and yet, he had felt the same anxiety as Morgana, the same suffocation of being surrounded by so many people, and the same concern at being so overwhelmingly outnumbered.
He did not expect that she would again venture into the muggle during their time here, and Harry had no intention to either. If anything, the experience only reaffirmed his belief that he truly did not belong here anymore, and further steeled his resolve to return home.
Before then, however, there was still much to do, and the very first thing Harry intended on remedying, is whatever Ron had been dealing with since he’d returned.
“Come in,” the familiar voice called as Harry knocked onto the door to the room.
Entering, he found Ron lying on his bed, perusing one of the many Quidditch magazines he’d always been so fond of.
“Alright, Harry?” the redhead greeted him uncertainly.
“Not so much,” Harry answered honestly. “I get this is hard for you, Ron, but shutting me out like this isn’t going to help.”
Ron shook his head as he sat up.
“I’m not shutting you out, mate, I just don’t know…this is weird for me. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. We had a funeral for you, and you just suddenly come back, only older and married.”
“You’ll be married too, one day.”
Ron snorted as he shook his head.
“I don’t bloody think so. Growing up with my lot has put me off that sort of thing.”
Harry chuckled as he took a seat at the nearby desk.
“You’ll change your mind. You’ll realise that what you’ve got is much better than most could ever hope for, but that’s for you to realise. Anyway, I just wanted to see if you wanted to get the twins and the others and we can go for a game of Quidditch?”
“Where?”
“Why not the orchard at the Burrow?”
Ron shook his head.
“Mum says it’s not safe. That’s why we are here.”
“I’m not going to tell her,” Harry said with a shrug. “Besides, I don’t think Riddle’s lot will be coming for me any time soon, not unless they fancy being folded in half the wrong way.”
Ron looked at him curiously for a moment before deflating.
“You really are different, aren’t you?”
“Not really,” Harry denied. “I’m just not scared of everything anymore. I grew up, and I got better. I still love Quidditch, and treacle tart. I might even let you kick my arse at a game of chess or two if that helps. I never got better at that.”
Ron grinned at the mention of his second favourite hobby before standing.
“I could do with a game of Quidditch, but only if I get to use the Firebolt.”
“Deal,” Harry agreed. “Where are the twins?”
“They’ll be in their room with Ginny, and maybe even Bill, working on their products.”
“They’re still doing that?”
Ron nodded.
“They plan to open a shop in the alley when they can afford it.”
Harry grinned at the thought.
“You know, I think that might just be a brilliant idea,” he mused aloud. “I think I may know who’d be interested in seeing that.”
“Sirius already tried to give them the gold, but mum went spare.”
“I wasn’t talking about Sirius,” Harry replied, “and it’s not as though your mother needs to know until everything is a done deal,” he added, nodding to himself as he concocted a plan.
(Break)
Morgana eyed the screaming woman amusedly.
She could see the resemblance between Walburga Black and her son, though Sirius lacked the innate insanity his mother had evidently been plagued with.
“I told you that she’s a delight.”
Morgana nodded before closing the curtains with a flick of her wand.
She’d been insulted many times during her life, but being called a filthy harlot and a mudblood was new to her.
“What was Harry like as a baby?” she asked curiously.
Sirius’s eyes lit up at the question.
“Very mischievous, and I suppose I didn’t help much,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck. “I brought him a toy broom when he was a year old, and he almost killed the cat with it, and Lily almost killed me. She was a fiery woman at times, but she put up with a lot from me and James. I expect it’s the same for you with Harry now.”
Morgana shook her head.
“He has a way of finding trouble, but always gets himself out of it,” she replied fondly. “When we first met, he was lost and quiet. It wasn’t until he told me about his life here that I really began to understand him. If I had my way, I’d pay a visit to his aunt and uncle, but I know Harry wouldn’t want me to.”
“I’ve thought about doing that myself,” Sirius admitted, turning as the front door opened. “Meeting?” he asked Tonks.
“Dumbledore just sent the message, so, something must be up.”
Sirius released a deep sigh.
“Something is always up,” he grumbled. “I can’t wait for this all to be over with. Before I went to Azkaban, it was war, and when I escape, it’s just more war. Maybe I’ll take a long holiday when Voldemort is dead, but not before I piss all over his grave. Can you send for Harry? He’ll want to be here for this.”
Morgana nodded before closing her eyes and feeling for the connection she shared with her husband before apparating away, pleased she had been able to spend a little more time with Sirius, but very much eager for this war to be concluded so that she and Harry could return home.
After all she’d seen today, there was not a single part of her that felt that she and her husband belonged here.
(Break)
It was a sense of nostalgia that filled Harry as he zoomed around the orchard at the rear of the Burrow on Ron’s broom.
It reminded him of the summer after his second year after the Weasley siblings had come to rescues him from the clutches of the Dursley’s, and though this was only a spot of light fun, Harry found he appreciated it no less than when he’d played for the Gryffindor House team.
“Nice save, Ron!” George praised as his younger brother blocked the Quaffle from passing through one of the conjured hoops.
Ginny was not so please that her shot had been intercepted, and she scowled at George in response.
She’d been paired with Fred, and Harry was with the other twin.
There were no Bludgers nor a Snitch involved in the game, which meant they were playing two against two, attempting to get shots past the steadfast Ron.
“Time for a rest,” Fred declared before landing and helping himself to a goblet of water. The others joined him, sweaty from their efforts, but happy for the reprieve.
“Well, you haven’t lost your touch, Harry,” George praised. “Why didn’t you ever try-out to be a Chaser?”
“I never really thought about it,” Harry mused aloud. “Besides, the girls were brilliant together.”
“Yeah, sod off,” Ron snorted. “The only time Harry didn’t get the Snitch was because of the Dementors. He would’ve wiped the floor with Diggory, the smarmy git.”
“Cedric was alright,” Harry chuckled. “We even helped each other during the tournament. What happened to him?”
“Bloody Bagman got him a trial for the Wasps,” Ron chortled. “He’s their reserve Seeker.”
Harry nodded approvingly.
“Well, he was good enough.”
“And you’d probably be on your way to playing for England if, well, you know,” George broke in. “Oh, but you might be in trouble. Your wife is here.”
Harry looked to see Morgana approaching in the distance.
“What’s it like being married?” Fred asked.
“It’s like being kicked up the arse but getting the best hug you could imagine at the same time,” Harry answered. “Plus there’s many other benefits to it.”
Both Fred and George snickered amusedly.
“Something to say, Harry?” Morgana asked as she reached them.
“He was just telling us about the joys of marriage.”
Morgana quirked an eyebrow at Harry who shrugged as he fought the urge to grin.
His wife rolled her eyes at him.
“Dumbledore is calling a meeting of his group,” she explained. “I think he will want you there.”
Harry nodded, but before he could reply, he suddenly felt something rather disturbing in the air around them, and he immediately drew his wand, only to be confronted by an ethereal phoenix as it appeared in front of him.
‘Harry, the Dark Lord is attacking the home of Amelia Bones! I am rallying the Order, but if you can get there quickly, we might just be able to save her.’
The phoenix vanished, and yet, the disturbance Harry had felt remained prevalent, and as he scanned the area around them, he realised why.
“Amelia Bones isn’t the only target,” he murmured, nodding towards the group of robed figures approaching the Burrow a short distance away.
“Merlin, what happened to the protections?” Fred asked.
“There weren’t any when I arrived,” Morgana explained. “How many are there.”
“Just over a dozen,” Harry answered. “They were expecting the place to be empty. Either this is supposed to be a distraction, or attacking Bones is, but I am guessing it is the former. Amelia Bones mustn’t die.”
“Then go to her,” Morgana urged. “I will handle this.”
With a nod is response, Harry placed a kiss on his wife’s cheek.
“I’ll be back,” he promised.
“I know,” Morgana said with a smile, though her expression darkened as she turned to face the approaching Death Eaters.
She would be fine.
With the twins, Ron, and Ginny, Morgana was more than a match for Riddle’s followers.
Amelia Bones, however, no matter how talented and brilliant she might be, could not hope to survive Riddle, and with that in mind, Harry apparated away from the Burrow to ensure the woman did not become the Dark Lord’s next victim.