The Lewis House 44 страница

Ron blanched. "Don't - Ginny -"

But Ginny was feeling merciless. "'I get into bed at night,'" she read.

"Oh, bloody hell," George said, and started laughing. "This is classic."

Ron growled furiously, and shot towards Ginny - she shrieked, spiraled out of the way, and flew to George, reading loudly: "'I get into bed at night, and for a second, every time, I'm absolutely sure you're about to walk in and lie down next to me. It would be the rightest thing in the world. You could curl up behind me with your arm around me...touch me -"

"Touch me!" George cried, in a high-pitched voice. "Oh, Ron!"

"Right, that's it, I’ll kill you," Ron yelled, purple in the face, before barreling at Ginny again. This time, he connected with her, nearly sending her off her broom; Ginny gasped and let go of the parchment, afraid she would fall. She clutched the broomstick with both hands and Hermione's letter fell towards the ground. Ron sped after it, caught it in his hands, and flew immediately to the goal posts where he hovered, looking especially murderous as he tucked the letter under his shirt, pointed his wand at himself, and muttered some sort of spell to keep it from falling again.

"I have a feeling you didn't even get to the good parts," George said wistfully to Ginny. "Ah well. It's enough to torture her with when she gets back - I won't forget a word of that. Let's play." He clapped his bat against Ginny's and flew off to the opposite side of the pitch.

Ginny threw herself into the game the moment it began, and while she played she felt like herself again, laughing and smacking at Bludgers, working to keep up with her brothers. For a little while there was no Empathy; her mind felt clear and even and her worries seemed to shrink away to nothing. Still, she couldn't quite forget that, somewhere to the west of them, Harry was flying too, on dragonback, in the darkness. And towards the end of the game, when Ron "accidentally" flew into her for the eleventh or twelfth time, she wondered what Harry would think if she wrote him a letter before she went to bed. Not like the one Hermione had apparently written - Ginny snickered to herself - but if she couldn't touch Harry for awhile, or even share space with him very often, then they were going to have to find another way to communicate. Ginny smiled a little. She didn't have anything in Harry's handwriting - they'd never kept in touch that way, during the summers. Perhaps letters would actually be... rather nice.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Enquiring Minds Want to Know

~*~

Authors’ Notes: Writing AtE is like jogging, as Zsenya recently discovered. The first quarter-mile was difficult and took a long time. The second quarter-mile was very easy and just flowed effortlessly. The third quarter-mile was not as strenuous as one might think, but the thrill of jogging wore off a bit. Then you stop and walk. That’s where we are now. This chapter is a nice, long walk. But then! If you jog a lot (like Arabella does) then that next mile is a breeze….

Thanks to everyone for patience in waiting. Hey, we’re all Harry Potter fans – what are we, if not patient?

Additional thanks to Moey, who could be wicked, but won't, and knew just what to do to Petunia.

~*~

"Mum? Mu-um?!"

Molly Weasley stood up quickly at the sound of Bill's voice and banged her head on one of the low rafters in the attic of the Burrow. The ghoul started an old rocking chair in motion, and the photo album that had been on Molly's lap slid to the floor with a thump. She’d been looking at pictures of her children when they’d been young. For over an hour, she’d laughed and waved and blown kisses back at happy faces of people who couldn’t really see her. Blinking back tears, she pursed her lips and made her way over to the trap door.

She was about to yell down to the kitchen to tell her oldest son to be quiet so as not to wake his nephew, when she realized that her voice had the potential to do the same thing. With a deep sigh, she pulled a wand out of her apron pocket and Apparated downstairs.

Molly needn't have worried. Leo was already awake. Penelope was stirring the stew that Molly had set cooking in a large cauldron earlier that morning, and Bill had started numerous brightly-colored tea towels dancing in a synchronized pattern above Leo's head.

Molly looked guiltily at Penelope. "I'm sorry dear - I didn't mean for you to do that - you have work to do."

Penelope continued to cheerfully stir the cauldron. Her mood had been much improved in the months following Leo's birth. All of Molly's worries about her daughter-in-law had quickly faded as she'd watched mother and son together. Penelope shooed Molly away with her free hand. "Sit," she said. "Goodness knows you've done enough to look after me lately. Besides," she added, sending an amused look in Bill's direction, "you must have tired yourself out with those gnomes this morning."

Molly felt herself blush - something that she did much less frequently than her children.

"Were you de-gnoming the garden, Mum?" Bill laughed, and Leo laughed with him, although it was most likely because a snowman had just jumped out of the scene on the tea towel and pinched him on the nose. "What did Fred and George do this time?"

"Very funny, Bill," said Molly, crossly, rubbing her upper arms, which were throbbing painfully from her morning exertions. "It needed to be done, and I can’t count on you lot to come by and help me anymore, can I?"

"But you do," said Bill. "You asked me to do it last weekend and I did. And I told you I’d do it as long as I was in England. ‘I won’t have headlines about the Minister of Magic de-gnoming the garden’ is what you said…"

At the mention of headlines, Molly narrowed her eyes, and remembered the whole reason that she’d had such a terrible day. She reached for a bowl and began to mix together a cake – she’d forgotten that Bill and Charlie were due for supper this evening. And they were eating early to accommodate Charlie’s dragon-riding schedule. She’d hoped to see Arthur before everyone arrived, but Arthur had been in a Diagon Alley Reconstruction meeting since early morning. Rose Brown had assured her from the fireplace that Charmed Life was not on the official Ministry subscription list.

That Rose Brown was a pretty girl. "Bill?" she asked, trying to take her mind off of things. "Wasn’t that Rose Brown Head Girl when you were Head Boy? Bill?"

"Huh?" Bill answered. His head was now hidden under a tent of tea towels, and he appeared to be playing "peek-a-boo" with Leo. He came up for air, his long hair falling out of the ponytail and sticking up in odd ways. "Oh, never mind!" said Molly, waving her wand so vigorously that some batter flew out of the bowl and landed in a blob on the table. She wasn’t going to attempt to match-make for him if he couldn’t even be bothered to cut his hair. Molly couldn’t see it, but she had a feeling that the fang earring was still dangling from his ear as well. Maybe she’d have better luck with Charlie. She only hoped that her own boys would be less inclined to gallivant in public with a girlfriend the way that Harry had with Ginny...

Penelope wandered over to the table to sit across from Bill and Leo. She opened up the Daily Prophet with a sigh. After a moment, she said, "I suppose now is the time to buy property in Diagon Alley."

"What?" Molly couldn’t imagine this day getting much worse. Was Penelope planning on moving out? "It’s too crowded and noisy in Diagon Alley," she said briskly. "Not a good place to raise a child. Arthur and I lived there when we were first married and didn’t come here until his mother needed looking after. Bill and Charlie were born there and - "

"And look at us now!" Charlie was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Not too shabby."

"I beg to differ," Molly answered with a huff, but she smiled when Charlie leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek. Despite the fact that it was now November and quite cold outside, Charlie was dressed in a T-shirt and his dragon-riding trousers. She wasn’t surprised, but decided to keep the bit about Charlie’s frequent toddler striptease routines on their balcony in Diagon Alley to herself. That story was best saved for the day he brought a girlfriend home. It was strange, reflected Molly, how children turned out. Charlie had always been adventurous, and she hadn’t been surprised when he’d decided to turn his fascination with dragons into a career. For all their wild ways, Molly had been able to read the twins from the beginning, and although they’d been exhausting to bring up, she’d understood them. Percy had always been responsible and quiet, as had Bill. But Bill had gone off to Egypt and returned with that long hair. Now he was near thirty, and showing no signs of settling down, and Molly knew that he really would rather be back in Egypt, or some place else far away from England. Ron had been nothing but surprises from the beginning. For so long, he’d been the "youngest boy" and now he’d played a major role in destroying Voldemort, had a wonderful girlfriend, a promising job and he’d only been out of school a few months. And Ginny - well, it was obvious now that she’d had other reasons for not wanting to return home to study in September. Molly was going to have a few words with Remus and Sirius when she calmed down just a bit.

"They’re selling flats for a Galleon," said Penelope, running her finger along the article, before Molly could begin to fume again. "It’s part of this whole reconstruction project. You pay one Galleon for an empty flat, but then you’re responsible for all of the repairs and you sign a contract that you must stay there for a minimum of five years."

"That’s tiring, fixing up a flat all by yourself," offered Molly, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious in trying to discourage Penelope. She loved having Penny and Leo at home to fuss over. Penelope had started her work for the Ministry about a month after Leo's birth – she was able to do most of her work from the Burrow, although recently, she'd left Leo in Molly's care two days a week in order to do research at the Ministry archives. Now that Leo was becoming more mobile, however, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Penelope to concentrate.

"That’s really not a bad deal, though," said Bill. "We could all help you – I bet you could find a really nice one on one of the park squares."

"We’ll have to ask Arthur about it," said Penelope, folding the newspaper and pushing it towards the center of the table. "What’s this?" she asked, pulling at something colorful from underneath the newspaper. "Charmed Life?"

"Yeah, Mum has a subscription," chortled Charlie. "There’s all sorts of rubbish in there – stuff you wouldn’t believe. You know, ‘Love Child! Minister Weasley and Canadian Seeker Maureen Knight Hide Secret from Family!’ and the like…"

"Charlie!"

"Well, Mum, you have to admit, that Maureen Knight’s quite attractive, and she’s doing quite well for the Cannons."

"Wait, wait," said Bill, holding up a hand. "How about this one? ‘Minister’s Wife Helps Gilderoy Lockhart Escape from St. Mungo’s…."

Molly groaned. The Lockhart jokes were growing old.

"Or," Bill continued, "’High Headmaster: Lifetime Supply of Billywig Stings Found in Albus Dumbledore's Secret Vault.'"

"'Simply the Best: Harry Potter Enjoys Life in the Arms of the Minister’s Seductive Daughter,’" read Penelope. Molly felt her stomach somersault. It didn’t feel any better than it had the first time she'd heard it.

"Good one!" said Charlie, laughing. "’William Weasley Caught in Goblin/Veela Love Triangle…’" but his voice trailed off and his eyes widened when Penelope held up the magazine for him to see. Molly looked away. She didn’t need to see it again.

"What the hell?" All amusement was gone from Charlie’s voice. "Mum? Have you seen this?"

She nodded.

"What?" asked Bill. "Let’s have a look!"

But Charlie cleared his throat and read aloud in a shaky voice:

"'Simply the Best: Harry Potter Enjoys Life in the Arms of the Minister’s Seductive Daughter. It seems that the Boy Who Lived is working on improving his life since he saved the world in June, writes N. Flummery, special reporter for Charmed Life. On Halloween, Potter exchanged more than just conversation with Ginny Weasley, the attractive only daughter of the Minister of Magic. The couple grew close while spending the summer together at the home of former Hogwarts professor Remus Lupin.’"

"Well?" asked Bill, looking perplexed. "What's wrong with that? It's sort of sweet, I think." He turned to address Molly. "No need to worry, Mum," he said, sounding authoritative, "it's all very innocent. Harry's a proper gentleman."

Charlie turned the magazine around so that Bill could see the accompanying photograph.

He turned pale, and yanked it from his brother's grasp. After a brief inspection, he threw it on the table in disgust.

"I mean, can they publish that?" Charlie’s hands were now balled up into fists.

"It’s not real," Penelope said calmly. "I mean, they were probably, er, kissing or something, but you know, there’re special potions to make the people in the photographs react certain ways. It’s even possible to place a sort of love charm on a photograph."

"I know that," said Charlie. "But, I mean, she’s attacking him. And he’s got his hand … I think I’m going to be sick."

"At least they've still got their clothes on," joked Penelope. Three pairs of angry Weasley eyes turned to her. She shrugged and picked up the magazine again.

Just then, the clock on the wall made the grinding noise that it was wont to do whenever any of the hands moved. A moment later, Arthur and Sirius were standing in the kitchen.

"’Lo, dear," said Arthur, giving Molly a kiss and then rubbing his hands together. "Dinner ready?"

"It will be soon," she said, and then, because she couldn’t hold it in any longer, marched past them both and grabbed her copy of Charmed Life from the table. She thrust it at Sirius, who looked confused, and took the magazine out of her hand. Sirius unfolded it and after looking at the front page, raised his eyebrows and laughed.

"You think this is funny!" Molly cried, exasperated. "Well, I can see he’s got a lovely role model, then."

Sirius shrugged. "I’ve already seen it. Ron showed it to me this morning."

"Ron did?" She hoped Ron hadn’t gone off and done anything too rash. The usual twinge of anxiety that she felt whenever she knew Harry to be in any sort of danger surfaced, but she pushed it out of her mind.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, hesitantly. "Do I want to know?"

"Maybe you should sit down," said Molly, throwing what she hoped was a vicious look in Sirius’s direction.

"It’s not a big deal," said Sirius, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "Ron seemed quite pleased. Said they’d had some sort of row but that he helped patch it up. I’m just glad to see them both enjoying themselves."

Molly’s mouth fell open, although she pursed her lips again when she heard a snort from behind her. "Arthur Weasley, don’t you dare laugh. This is very, very serious!"

But the Minister of Magic’s lips were curved into a smile. Bill laughed, although Charlie still looked rather pale. "Molly," said Arthur, soothingly, reaching out to grab hold of her skirt and pulling her onto the bench next to him. "I’m not going to hang the photograph in the hall next to the picture of Uncle Bilius, but Sirius is right – at least they both seem happy. And anyway," he continued, putting an arm around her, "that article was written by Flummery; she’s been fired by the Prophet."

"Well, then, I’m not surprised," said Bill, sounding a bit relieved. "Can’t trust a word she writes. Who took that picture, Dad?"

"Photograph by Crispin R. Peltier," read Arthur, his eyes scanning the name below the picture - and Molly was pleased to note that, for all his seeming permissiveness, her husband winced when he glanced up at the photograph itself. "Never heard of him. Sounds French or something."

"Maybe you can ask your girlfriend," said Charlie to Bill. Molly turned in surprise.

"Girlfriend?"

"I haven’t got a girlfriend, Mum," said Bill, looking very cross and punching Charlie on the arm. Molly winced for him when she saw him pull his hand back and rub it – Charlie’s arms were quite muscular from all of the dragon training.

"Well, if that’s the case, I think one of you should ask that Rose Brown to go out some time. She's lovely, and she dropped off some papers for Arthur last week and was positively wonderful with Leo, wasn’t she, Penny?" Penelope nodded, and scooped Leo up in her arms to keep him from rolling off of the table.

"Blondes aren’t my type," muttered Bill.

"Well, what about you, Charlie?" she looked hopefully at her younger son. He made a face.

"Blondes aren’t his type either," Bill said with more confidence. "He likes girls who have short hair and besides, ‘Rose’ doesn’t go as well with the name ‘Charlie’ as –" He was cut off by Charlie grabbing onto his ponytail and pulling his head back. "Ow! Oy! Mum! Tell him to quit it!"

Well, thought Molly, looking around the room, it was loud, and busy, but she preferred the kitchen like this, with her boys fighting, Leo cooing, and Penelope humming. It had used to be like this all the time. She missed it. She watched Bill and Charlie for another moment and then turned to her husband.

"I suppose you’re right," she said, feeling suddenly quite tired. "But honestly, can’t you do anything? Poor Ginny’s reputation – I mean, I’ll have a word with her and make sure she understands about… things."

Arthur squeezed her shoulder and Molly looked sideways at him, shocked to notice just how little hair was left on his head. What was there was a muted rust color – a far cry from the brilliant red that had caused her to thrill when she caught a glimpse of it coming through the portrait hole at Hogwarts. That all seemed so very long ago. Most of the time, when she looked at her husband, she saw him as he had been – a tall, lanky boy in faded robes, with a laugh that she could pick out from the opposite end of the Great Hall. They were so very fortunate, she thought – they hadn’t had to worry about photographers and magazines, and terrible, special potions as they’d made use of dark corridors and abandoned classrooms. Her heart suddenly ached for her daughter. She sighed and put her head on Arthur’s shoulder.

"Sirius will have a talk with Harry, I'm sure," he said. When Sirius didn’t respond, Arthur craned his neck, and Molly shifted in her seat to see Sirius rocking Leo in his arms. Penelope was drawing a crude diagram of Culparrat on a piece of parchment and mumbling as she pointed out various key boundaries.

"… so, you really think it’s possible for anything to get through that level of protection?"

"It was possible for a dog to slip away from Azkaban when the Dementors were in place," Penelope reminded him. "Putting up layers and layers of common charms and enchantments won’t stop anyone. We need to create something entirely new…"

"And the Thinker didn’t come up with anything? No ideas?"

"No, she couldn’t conceive of a spell. She agreed to look over our research, but even so, she said she couldn’t promise anything. It’s not easy." Penelope shook her head. "That’s what I’m helping with now. Percy and I had started to do research out of desperation. I know the history – what’s been done, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what to do. All I’m doing right now is compiling a list of all of the past attempts at Imprisonment Charms and making sure that they really won’t work at Culparrat. And so far, I’ve been right. They all won’t work. But maybe someone will be able to make sense of all of these notes, once they’re compiled."

"Hmph," was all Sirius said.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Sirius," he said again, a bit more loudly, "have a word with Harry, will you?"

"A word?" asked Sirius, looking confused. "About what?"

"About the, er, photo," said Arthur. He sounded very ministerial. "He should understand that he needs to be more, er, discreet."

"Discreet?" said Charlie. "He needs to keep his hands off of her, is what he needs to do!"

"Come on, Charlie," said Bill, trying to soothe his brother’s growing agitation. "You heard Penny – you know it’s all rubbish."

"I’ll talk to him," Sirius said, shrugging. "Although I’m not sure what good it will do. They’re young. They’ll carry on no matter what I say."

"I’ll tell you what we can do," said Charlie, whose face was now becoming quite red. "We can make the little runt’s life a bloody living hell is what we can do. There’re things you can put in a dragon’s food to make them more excitable…"

"More excitable than usual?" asked Bill. He was smiling, and Molly shot him a warning look. It wasn’t good to tease Charlie too much about the dragons.

"Really?" Sirius seemed much more interested in the dragons than he had in the magazine. "Why didn’t O’Malley tell me that last week? Do you think someone could have slipped Norbert something to make him act like that?"

Charlie shook his head. "No, Norbert was lethargic and his eyes were unresponsive to stimuli - he was just feeling weak. Sign of viral infection. But if you put an entire Flutterby Bush in with their food, the dragons start to bounce a little bit."

"Charlie!" Now that she’d calmed down, Molly was feeling fully protective of Harry once again.

"What?" he answered, somewhat defensively. "It won’t hurt him – permanently. We use those bushes all the time when training keepers. It helps them expect the worst. And really…" he gave an angelic smile, "all the new riders should be put through the test. We didn’t do it before because we were on such a strict deadline."

Sirius turned to Arthur. "Can’t you forbid that somehow?"

Arthur held up his hands and removed his Ministry badge. "Sorry, mate," he answered, clapping Sirius on the back. "I only have so much power."

"It won’t hurt him much," Charlie said, Summoning a spoon and dipping in to taste the stew in the cauldron. "His bum might be sore for a few days. And – he might be dizzy. Nothing he can’t handle."

Molly decided that now was the time to change the conversation. "Charlie Weasley – you will do no such thing!" She turned to Sirius. "Now, Sirius, dear, are you staying for tea?"

"No, thank you," said Sirius, casting Charlie a dark look. "I should go home and talk to Harry," he said. He handed Leo back to Penelope and reached across the table for the magazine. "But I’ll take this along to show to Ginny, shall I? Hear her side of the story?"

Before Molly could stop him, he was gone. She made a mental note to destroy the Howler that was written up and sitting in her bedside table. She’d just invite Ginny over to have a chat tomorrow after her lessons. With a small smile, she began to clear the papers off the table, bending down to kiss Leo on the head as she did so. Her children were grown, but at least all but one had survived the war. She thought about the Diggorys and their son. They had never even had the blessing to see him grown, and married. She barely heard the noise as Bill and Charlie continued to mock-wrestle by the fireplace, with her husband encouraging them and acting as a referee. At least they were there, and Molly suddenly felt that she was very fortunate indeed.

~*~

Two nights after Halloween, the sky was cool and purple. Harry and Ron had left a window partway open in the front room of the Notch, where they were relaxing together after work by playing a game of chess. Wind flicked at the fire, making light dance across their abandoned mess of dinner plates and the expressions of their chessmen.

"You sure that's the move you want?" The tip of Ron's index finger rested on the parapet of a white castle and he raised one eyebrow at Harry. "Don't lower your wand unless you're really sure..."

But Harry had been playing chess with Ron for many years, and this particular tactic was older than dirt. His day at Azkaban had been horrible in every way, but he couldn't help feeling a familiar sense of comfort as they played. It almost seemed that one of them might pull out a stack of Divination homework, or start to complain about an incomplete star chart. The memory cheered Harry, a little. "You're transparent," he said, and rested his wand hand on the table, signaling that his move was complete.

Ron's eyebrows shot up in dismay. "Oh no," he lamented, looking dismally at the board. "That one's really going to hurt." He seemed crushed for a minute, then cocked his head and raised his wand. "But maybe if I just move this bishop a bit..." he said slowly, and gestured with his wand. A white bishop slid within striking distance of Harry's king, mercilessly stabbing a knight on its way, and an arrogant smile crept across Ron's face. "Check," he said distinctly, and let out a satisfied sigh. "Brilliant bluffer," he added, tapping his head with his wand.

Harry blinked at the chessboard, certain that he could not be losing. He had been very clearly in the lead. "But - that move wasn't there a second ago."

"Sure it was." Ron grinned. "Don't beat yourself up, Harry - it's just that I'm a genius."

"Or an idiot savant," Harry muttered, studying the pieces and trying to work out an escape.

Ron snorted. "Smart enough to keep my love life out of the papers, anyway," he said, but his grin faded when Harry looked up. "Joking," Ron said quickly, putting up his hands in apology. "Joking."

Harry nodded curt forgiveness and looked at the board again. He had no desire to talk about the tabloid that Ron had brought home and reluctantly showed him - Charmed Life, it had read across the cover. Bringing you the intimate lives, loves, and leisures of the rich and famous since 1893. Ron kept trying to make light of it, but Harry couldn't laugh. It wasn't funny. Every time his brain so much as touched on the subject, he cringed. He and Ginny - making no secret of themselves. The wizarding photograph moved far too realistically; Harry had gasped at the sight of it and had Banished it out of Ron's hand and into to his own room, feeling himself plunged back in time. Whoever had taken that picture could have been Rita Skeeter's partner, although what Flummery had written for Charmed Life was worse than those old Witch Weekly articles about Hermione - far worse. Those had been lies. They had been embarrassing, of course, but Harry had known all along that there was no substance to any of the accusations, and that fact had made them bearable.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04