Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Moments in Love	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 175861 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 14
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All rights belong to Rowling. Nor do I make any money from the story.

Chapter List
- 72
- 73
- 74
Weasley Ways

Molly Weasley waved her wand at the pan with the bacon, trying very hard not to think about her two missing sons. One had gone astray the day he had joined the Ministry, and the other was currently being held captive by the former, somewhere unknown. She took some solace in the fact that Charlie was safe in Romania at the moment, looking after dragons at the Preserve because they were understaffed.
One by one, the bacon strips rearranged themselves for a nice even crisp while she flipped over the fried eggs in the pan she was tending to. She was just arranging the food on the plates when her husband blearily staggered down the rickety stairs.
“Here you go Arthur, eggs flipped, just as you and Bill like them,” Molly beamed at her husband. “Where is Bill anyway? Still in bed? I know you both didn’t get in till after three last night, but still, it’s already seven thirty...”
Arthur flushed as he peered guiltily at his wife.
“Oh... er... Bill didn’t come back with me last night,” he muttered, focusing his attention on his steaming cup of tea.
“Why ever not?” snapped Molly. “I told him I’d feel much better if he stayed at home with us while he’s taking time off from Gringotts to help the Order...”
Molly’s husband sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t let it go. If he wanted a peaceful breakfast, he’d just have to get it all out at once and hope for the best.
“Erm... well, he met a girl last night while helping to rescue muggles from the Inferi...”
“And he went home with her already?” Molly frowned. “That’s a bit quick off the mark don’t you think? Who is she then? Another French trollop? One of the witches that Mr Delacour sent over to help the Order no doubt!”
Arthur struggled not to roll his eyes, thinking back to the French girl that Bill had met during the Triwizard Tournament while visiting Hogwarts for the Final Task: Yvette something or other - he couldn’t quite recall her last name. She and Bill had got on like a house on fire in the stands while everyone else had been eyeing the outermost hedgerow of the maze in boredom and anticipation.
Then Bill had invited the pretty blonde Beauxbatons girl to dinner the following week - the week the Potters had been in London for the trial. Ron and Ginny had been home for a few days before Ron went off to Ireland and Ginny returned to Hogwarts.
It had been a complete disaster. Molly had done her utmost to restrain herself and be on her best behaviour. Arthur had to give Molly some credit for doing as well as she had, but it had been impossible for her to completely hide her disdain. But Ginny’s attitude hadn’t helped; not to mention Ron openly ogling the girl with a gormless expression on his face.
The poor girl and Bill had felt uncomfortable the entire time, and the next time Arthur had seen Bill, his son had glumly told him that she couldn’t be with someone whose family had such little regard for the French.
After that, Arthur had taken Ginny aside for a serious conversation about not being rude to people just because her mother didn’t like them. Arthur had also tried to impress upon Ron that it was considered impolite to drool while staring at pretty girls - that it was better to just take quick surreptitious glances out of the corner of one’s eye - but he expected that his breath had been wasted on Ron.
Arthur noted that his wife was still glowering at him while breakfast began to cool. He adjusted his glasses, took another sip of tea and cleared his throat.
“No... the girl is British actually,” he began, eyeing his wife warily, “a muggle secretary he met in the building he was securing. He does seem to quite like her, but he only went home with the girl to look after her because she was frightened to be alone - her family doesn’t live in Puddleby. And I don’t blame the poor girl after all those Inferi, and then having the muggle military set loose on her town.”
“Oh!” said Molly brightly, her frown vanishing. “Well why didn’t you just say so to begin with Arthur? She sounds positively delightful! You should have Bill bring her to tea or dinner... Just remember this time not to scare her off...”
“Me?” said Arthur incredulously, forgetting himself momentarily.
“Yes, you! ...With your silly self-deprecating jokes about rubber duckies and pretending you don’t know how to say ‘electricity’ or ‘plumber’...”
“Nonsense Molly - it puts muggles at ease to think that they know things that wizards don’t.”
Molly rolled her eyes, remembering how uncomfortable Arthur had made Hermione’s parents feel that ill-fated day in Diagon Alley, before he had got in a fight with Malfoy. For such a smart man with exceptional muggle engineering skills as well as having been top of the class at Hogwarts, her husband could be quite thickheaded at times.

~o0o~
Percy Weasley unlocked and opened the door of the room that was currently occupied by his youngest brother. Percy smiled wryly and shook his head slightly when he saw Ron still digging into his breakfast, currently shoveling sausage and the remnants of the scrambled eggs into his mouth.
Ron looked up from his tea-tray, hoping his own expression was more nonchalant than he felt, his heart thumping wildly.
“Heypercewazup!?” Ron mumbled with a grin as he tried to swallow the huge mouthful of food and nearly choked.
Percy rolled his eyes and chortled. The poor table manners were a good sign that Ron was obviously feeling much better about things and that Percy’s efforts hadn’t been in vain.
“I was wondering, Ron, how would you feel about being on the Wiz-Vision again?” Percy asked hopefully. “...Without being imperiused this time? If all goes well, I’m sure that I can talk the Minister into arranging an outing to Diagon Alley... maybe even to buy you a Firebolt while we’re there...”
“Really? That sounds smashing Percy...” answered Ron, looking extremely interested. “And if I go on the Wiz-Vision enough, I’ll be more famous than Harry in no time.”
“Precisely!” beamed Percy. “Excellent, Ron! If you’re finished with breakfast, we can go downstairs and work on your lines in the sitting room for a bit.”
“Yeah, sure! I’m done eating for now...” said Ron eagerly, hastily gulping down the rest of his pumpkin juice.
Ron followed Percy out of the horribly pink room into the equally horribly pink hallway. At least the bannister of the stair railing was plain wood, mahogany polished to a high sheen. At the bottom of the stairs Ron spied the kitchen and dining room to his right, and a hallway leading to what looked like a laundry-room near the back door.
Through the threshold on his left, where Percy was heading, Ron could see a Welsh Dresser with shelves full of collectible plates with pictures of horribly pink puppies gamboling across them. Ron reckoned now was as good a time as any.
“We’ll just take a seat on the sofa...” Percy began saying as he turned his head to look at Ron. Percy’s smile was replaced with a look of horror.
“What the hell...?” were the last words that Percy managed to blurt out before Ron’s fist crashed into the side of his face. Ron furiously slammed his fist into Percy’s face two more times and his brother dropped to the floor, out like a light.
Ron scowled at his prone brother on the floor, his fist still shaking with nervousness and anger, and not a small bit of pain, his knuckles bleeding. Nostrils flaring, Ron almost kicked his brother, unconscious though Percy already was, barely managing to restrain himself.
“If you weren’t my brother...” Ron muttered savagely. “...Bastard! It’d take more than a bloody Firebolt to turn me into a Slytherin! That was for torturing Dad...”
He had hit Percy hard enough to hurt his knuckles, but still, Ron didn’t know how long Percy would be out. Ron looked longingly at Percy’s wand. He considered taking it, but thought better of it. Ron knew he’d be tempted to use it and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself once he’d departed.
“...Still, I reckon it’s safe enough while I’m still in the Minister’s house,” he told himself out loud. Ron took Percy’s wand and used a stunning spell on him for good measure, thanking his lucky stars that Fred and George had taught him the spell.
“That oughta keep you quiet for a bit,” Ron muttered again, replacing the wand in Percy’s pocket. “Wonder if that hag has a broom in this bloody place...”
Ron searched the hallway and the kitchen, looking for a broom closet, not bothering with the Floo system because he knew it was being monitored closely. He peered in a cupboard under the stairs, jumping back in fright when a few spiders scurried out. But he breathed a sigh of relief and grinned when he spied a Comet 220 which looked like it had been used more for sweeping than riding.
“Excellent! You’re no Firebolt, but at least you’re better than Charlie’s old Shooting Star.”
Remembering that it was cold outside, Ron looked in a wardrobe by the front door, happy to find a thick furry overcoat, not caring in that moment how stupid and girly it would make him look.
As he headed for the back door, Ron shot another furious glance at Percy who was still out cold on the pink shag carpet in the sitting room. Ron swallowed and fought back sudden tears, wondering if he would ever see Percy again - the annoying old Percy who was only a pompous prat, a bossy know-it-all... not this mad twisted Slytherin version of Percy that he’d become.
“...Though I suppose you always were a bit of a Slytherin,” Ron said quietly as he thought back to how Percy had always been selfish, greedily ambitious, and looked down on the rest of the family as if he were a vastly superior being adopted into a family of dunces.
A sudden flush of shame crossed Ron’s features, recognising a few of his older brother’s worst traits in himself. Percy had known only too well the buttons to push to try and turn Ron against Harry. Then Ron felt a little better, knowing that he’d managed to put most of his jealousy and feelings of inadequacy behind him. And there was no way that Perce could’ve ever got him to believe in that Pureblood rubbish.
His thoughts turned to Seamus and to some of the girls who had seemed more interested in Ron after he’d helped Gryffindor win the quidditch match.
With pleasant fantasies in the back of his mind - now much more realistic - of he and Seamus hooking up with a couple of girls together, and getting a bit of action under the quidditch stands, and of eventually becoming a famous professional quidditch player, Ron stalked out of the Minister’s back door and jumped onto the broom, soaring up into the thinning clouds without once looking back.
Even with a thick furry coat it was still bloody cold, but once above the clouds, Ron tried to decide which direction to go. He had no real idea where the hell in Britain the Minister’s house was, but it hadn’t looked like Scotland or Wales down below.
But it was still early morning and the sun was still rising, and even though he was no Hermione, Ron at least had an idea of which way was North and South. He considered trying to find his way back home, to the Burrow, but then he reckoned that there was only Mum and Dad, and that it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Ron sighed when he realised that he would be safer at Hogwarts, which was probably hundreds of miles away. And it should be easier to find as there was no mistaking the mountainous region surrounding the Castle and the Black Lake. He’d know the landscape when he saw it. There was nothing for it. Keeping the sun to his right for the time-being, Ron began heading North.

~o0o~
Minister Dolores Umbridge felt much better after visiting with the Prime Minister. The PM had been in a bit of a panic when she had arrived, but he too felt a sense of relief at the conclusion of their meeting with his good friend - the muggle media mogul who had arrived from New York on a private jet shortly after Dolores and the PM had downed their first round of brandy while grimly watching the BBC.
The deputy mayor of Puddleby had been sworn in as Acting Mayor by the Puddleby City Council early that morning, and she had been giving interviews on television ever since, demanding that Parliament open an investigation into the failure of the military and MI5 to evacuate Puddleby as the PM had promised, and expressing equal befuddlement as to how the city had survived both the rampaging Zombies and the military’s mysterious decision to attack the city instead of rescuing it.
For their part, muggle television News Announcers and Experts were having a field day speculating about the events - a few of them even going so far as to suggest that an Act of Providence which proved the existence of God had saved the town of Puddleby. A rather well known gadfly had responded by pointedly asking if that meant God hated all the people in small communities and neighbourhoods who had previously been killed by Zombies.
And there were indeed rumbles among the Opposition Parties in the Parliament about opening an Investigation. Even a few rogue members of the Prime Minister’s party had implied that they might support an Inquiry. The Royals had of course maintained their neutrality in a Press Release from the Queen’s office, expressing her utmost confidence in the government to conduct itself fairly and with openness and integrity.
The media kingpin had snorted with derision and laughed outright at the Queen’s written statement, tossing back his third whiskey before the television had been turned off. He had peered shrewdly at Dolores.
“Crikey - what a bunch o’ bloody morons, eh? So... you’re the one ‘oo introduced television to the wizard world!” the perceptive man had wryly drawled in his Australian accent. “And I ‘ave t’say, I’m quite the fan. That Bill O’Hannity fella - I could use someone like him on my new American news network.
“Don’t look so surprised Minister Umbridge, I’ve met a few wizards in my time - some that aren’t too fussy about the International Statute of Secrecy for the right price - and they are currently in my employ, keepin’ me informed of everything goin’ on in the countries that I’ve invested in the most.”
Dolores had returned the muggle’s smirk with one of her own, knowing that she had met one who would have done well in Slytherin had he been a wizard.
“Splendid,” she replied in her sweetest, breathiest tone, “This shall be much easier without the pretense then!”
“Too right, it will,” the man chuckled. “And I must say your programming’s brilliant for the most part. Looks like you and your people are doin’ just fine...”
“Ah, well thank you very much,” Dolores responded. “Unfortunately, one of my best propagandists is now working for the other side, and they have been... what is it you muggles say? Ah... yes, they have been ‘hacking’ into our feed with broadcasts of their own.”
“Yeah, I caught it just as my flight pulled into ‘Eathrow.” The mogul nodded sympathetically. “Still, I daresay you’ll need less help crafting an effective media response than my good friend here,” he added with a wink at the scowling Prime Minister.
The mogul had been right in the end. Dolores had quickly run her ideas to counter the pirated broadcasts by him to his great approval. The rest of the morning had been spent devising a media strategy to paint the Prime Minister as a victim of circumstances, military bungling, and hounding by his political enemies. Which was for the best, as there was very little that magic alone could have done to solve the PM’s problems.
As it was, he would still likely face an Inquiry in the Parliament, but it would no doubt peter out eventually after a few months of media reports blasting the Opposition as loony ‘Conspiracy Theorists.’
Satisfied that they had all done the best they could, given the situations they faced, Dolores had entered the green flames in the hearth and arrived in her office back at the Ministry to make plans with the sub-department of the Unspeakable Office which handled propaganda before returning home to see how Percy was getting on with Ronald.
It was nearly noon when she stepped out of her own fireplace at home. Dolores’s face fell when she spied Percy Weasley sprawled on the floor groaning and holding his head, one of his eyes swollen shut and purple, his cheek bruised and bleeding.
“Oh you poor dear!” Dolores gasped as she scurried to Percy’s side and helped him stagger to the sofa. “Did Ronald do this to you? Did he get your wand somehow?”
“No! He didn’t take it at all. The little bugger actually hit me... three times! I can’t believe it!” Percy moaned.
“I can’t believe it!” Percy repeated. “I was so sure... He’s always been jealous of Potter - just as much as he hero-worshiped that jumped up little blood-traitor! ... That’s why I thought he’d be easier to un-brainwash than Ginny! I don’t understand! I swear... I thought Ron had finally seen reason...”
“There, there, dear,” said Dolores in her most motherly fashion as she summoned her first-aid kit from the bathroom. “Never mind, never mind...” she sighed, pushing back at her own bitter memories.
Percy’s relationship with his family reminded Dolores strongly of her own. In her own case, Dolores’s estrangement from her father was due to her embarrassment at his appalling lack of ambition; she had sacked him from his job as a floor mopper in the Department of Magical Sanitation and sent him packing with a reasonable stipend to keep him out of sight.
As to her muggle mother and squib brother... well, they were best long forgotten, wherever they were currently living in the muggle world.
“...I know how painful it can be when family disappoints you,” Dolores assured Percy as she dabbed a clothful of Essence of Dittany on his injuries. “Please don’t fret dear. Ronald’s escape is no great loss. ... Just remember that you’re worth a hundred times more to me than any other member of your family! You’re the smart one, and you have done so much to restore your family’s good name...”

~o0o~
The smell of bacon and eggs frying woke Bill Weasley. Yawning, he looked around the living room of the flat from the sofa on which he had been sleeping, reminding himself of where he was. The clock on the wall indicated that it was after noon, fast approaching one o’clock. He had been snuggled with Miriam on the sofa watching the television until finally falling asleep as the first rays of the cold wintry sun peeked through the curtains. Apparently the recent storm which had blanketed Britain had finally passed during the wee hours of the morning while watching the telly.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” said Miriam, grinning as she bustled into the living room with a tea-tray which she set on the coffee-table in front of the sofa. “I hope you like your eggs flipped.”
“Perfect! Just the way Mum makes them,” Bill beamed back at Miriam, taking a few sips from the glass of orange juice she had brought him.
“So what did you think of the Predator films?” Miriam asked as Bill buttered a crumpet.
“More terrifying than the Inferi,” Bill chortled. “Especially that huge bloke with all the muscles in the first one,” he added with a wink and a fake shudder of fright as he dipped his crumpet into the runny yolk of the egg.
Miriam giggled.
“You were right though...” Bill continued after swallowing a bite of the crumpet and a piece of bacon. “The Predators’ camouflage is a lot like the Disillusionment Charm. It would be really interesting to see how they would fare against the creatures in the other film on the video-tape - that Alien film. I’d love to see a film where the Predators faced of with the, er... Xeno-whatsits...”
“Xenomorphs,” Miriam interjected.
“Yeah those!” Bill nodded. “Speaking of which, I know a bloke by the name of Hagrid who would give anything to have one of those horrors as a pet...”

~o0o~
Somehow, despite the number of young people in his office, Dumbledore’s office didn’t seem quite as crowded as it could have. With twinkling eyes, the headmaster warmly received the nine youths seated before him. They all appeared slightly apprehensive as they sipped cups of tea or nibbled on tea-biscuits, as if they had some inkling of the primary reason he had called for the meeting.
Fawkes nonchalantly preened his feathers, but the portraits on the wall had abandoned all pretense of inattentiveness. There was no question that the Potters and their friends were the most interesting students that Hogwarts had seen in many generations.
As he regarded them cannily, Dumbledore was struck by the incongruity of their fresh-faced youthful features - those of still young teens - juxtaposed with a bearing beyond their years which at once both heartened and humbled him. Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat.
“Well,” Dumbledore began, “No doubt you are all wondering why I asked you to join me this afternoon. To begin with, I wish to express the thankfulness of the many residents of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh. An entire town survives today, due to your magnificent efforts - due to your prodigious skills, your bravery, and your true strength of character.
“The Acting Mayor of Puddleby, Ms Barbara Spencer, and the young man of whose acquaintance you made last night, Mr Joseph Chambers, both especially wished me to pass along their utmost gratitude - and the gratefulness of their families.
“Make no mistake, despite the best efforts of myself, the Order, and Monsieur Delacour’s forces, there is no question that the town would have likely been largely destroyed had you not been there to prevent such from happening. You accomplished far more than I had believed possible or could have hoped for under such extreme conditions...”
Harry and Hermione, and the rest of the Coven, all began squirming a bit uncomfortably, reddening with embarrassment at the headmaster’s high praises. But not knowing what to say, they sat silent as Dumbledore spoke, eyeing the Potters in particular with an almost wistful expression as he carried on.
Harry gulped when Dumbledore looked right at him over the top of his half-moon spectacles with his piercing blue gaze.
“No doubt it feels quite odd to be behind the walls of Hogwarts once more, Harry. That is because you are all truly adults now, in every way imaginable, even the youngest among you.
“You and the rest of your compatriots have all faced more burdens and shouldered more responsibilities than many wizards and witches have in their entire lives, and you have all done so with great courage, grace, and dedication - more than anyone has any right to expect from those of your age.
“You have acquitted yourselves admirably, and I must confess, I am somewhat saddened for whatever vestiges of innocence you have lost, facing the terrible burdens of war. For indeed, warriors you, your wife, and friends, have all become.
“As I mentioned not so long ago, it is my hope that at some point, you would be able to resume your education, free of such burdens. And I must apologise again for the current interruptive state of affairs regarding schooling for yourself and your companions.”
“It’s alright sir,” said Harry quietly, when Dumbledore paused, clearly expecting a response. “We understand that things are different now - we’re all ready for whatever comes next, whenever you need us.”
“Indeed!” Dumbledore nodded. “However, I should like to offer the opportunity for you and your friends to rejoin us here at Hogwarts - at least on a part-time basis - if you and your friends feel up to it. It has occurred to me that you may all feel a bit isolated from your other friends, and from family members, as I know that at least two among you have siblings currently attending Hogwarts.
“You could all continue to reside together in Hogwarts’ newest, unofficial ‘House’...” Dumbledore said, his tone full of meaning.
Ginny turned scarlet, and she and Parvati giggled nervously while Luna simply smiled beatifically when Dumbledore’s gaze came to rest upon the three of them.
“I can offer you a copy of the portrait of Aphrodite to ease passage between Jennifer’s manor and Hogwarts, and more suites in the corridor of the Unaffiliated... if such are necessary,” Dumbledore added pointedly, raising his eyebrows slightly.
Dora turned beet red; Fleur couldn’t help a little titter escaping her lips. Daphne blushed and Jennifer grinned, shaking her head. Harry glanced at Hermione who was as red-faced as he, and groaned. He had been hoping that it had been his imagination, and that Dumbledore would let well enough alone if not.
“Er... How did you know?” Harry asked a bit hoarsely.
“That you and your companions are a Coven?” said Dumbledore, his own cheeks growing warm and rosy. “I first suspected after visiting Jennifer’s estate to remove the Trace from Miss Weasley. Not only due to the closeness which you all seemed to share, but because of the palpable magic that my finely attuned senses detected surrounding the estate.
“The magic was highly reminiscent of that which I once spoke to you and Mrs Potter following the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament - reminding me very strongly of magic I had sensed at ancient sites where once were held, er... Ecstatic Rituals of primordial magic.
“And last night, the potency of your spells, and the intensity of your Auras convinced me that my suspicions were correct. Please forgive me Harry. It is not my intention to cause you - any of you - any embarrassment. I will do my utmost to keep your status as a Coven secret, but I must warn you, Professor Flitwick also drew the same conclusion as I did last night. He has agreed to remain silent as well.”
Hermione felt compelled to say something, as it was all her fault to begin with.
“But we aren’t having, er... orgies,” she squeaked, her face blazing hotly. “We’re not really having sex all together...”
“We are though,” said Luna bluntly, giggling at Ginny and Parvati. Parvati buried her face in both hands.
“Shut up!” Ginny hissed, swatting Luna on the shoulder.
“Oh!” Dumbledore’s bushy white eyebrows rose even higher. “Truly remarkable indeed! If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs Potter...”
“I came up with a workaround,” Hermione confessed. “There’s an enchanted pond at Jennifer’s estate where I think that ancient Covens must have held, er... similar rituals. We all paired up, or, er... trio’d up in Ginny, Luna, and Parvati’s case, and took to corners of the pond corresponding to points on the compass.”
“Ah... of course! Most ingenious, Mrs Potter!” Dumbledore nodded, stroking his long silvery beard. “Well, I’ll quite understand if you all wish to remain at Jennifer’s estate for the time being.”
“Er... can we think about it?” asked Harry, glancing at Hermione and the others. “I wouldn’t mind staying here part of the week anyway.”
Hermione immediately caught on, knowing how much Harry missed the Room of Requirement.
“Why don’t we stay the night?” said Hermione. “We could sleep on it, and let you know what we think tomorrow, Professor Dumbledore!”
“That sounds a splendid plan, Mrs Potter,” the headmaster agreed. “Now that’s all sorted, I wish to express my gratitude once more, this time for myself.”
Dumbledore held up his withered and blackened arm and flexed the spindly fingers of his charred hand.
“This was a small price to pay for my life... I am not sure how I can ever repay you and your companions for affording me the opportunity to continue shaping young minds. If there is anything more that I can do to make your lives more bearable, by all means, do not hesitate to ask...”
“Erm...” Harry felt slightly awkward, not sure how to respond to that. “Er... really sir, that’s not necessary...”
Hermione chewed her lip, glancing at her husband as an idea impressed itself upon her.
“Professor Dumbledore, sir,” she began, “we’ve been wondering what it would take to create a Room of Requirement of our own at home. Harry’s been wanting a proper place to continue training when we’re not at Hogwarts, and anything you could do to help would be brilliant.”
Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose again; he looked most impressed at the request of his students. The office fell into silence as he considered it.
“Well, such a thing would be quite beyond me to create from scratch of my own accord,” he said finally, “and would under most circumstances take many decades and many, many wizards vastly skilled in Arithmancy, Charms, Transfiguration, and a highly specialised branch of Alchemy known as Metaphysicorum to accomplish...”
Hermione gave Harry an apologetic look for having got his hopes up.
“It’s alright Hermione,” Harry started to say, smiling at her, “You already told me as much...”
“However,” Dumbledore interjected brightly, “I do believe there is a way that I can assist you in that regard. What you need is an artifact - a piece of the Room of Requirement itself - which I would be more than happy to provide. All you need do is incorporate the stone into the architecture of the room you wish to transform - which is a simple matter - and I daresay that a session of your, er... erotic activities with Harry would do the rest...”

~o0o~
Carmine wisps of cloud crossed the purple backdrop as the day drew closer to an end. Ron was starving; not to mention being tired and thirsty and bloody freezing his arse off. He had been flying for hours, having only taken a break at midday when the sun’s position in the sky made his direction of travel uncertain. He had resumed flying the moment the sun began to descend the downward slope of the sky.
To his delight, despite the snowy landscape, Ron was sure that he had discovered the railway tracks upon which the Hogwarts Express traveled. His certainty was assured when he had spotted a bridge that he recalled from the ill-fated flight that he and Harry and Hermione had taken in his father’s car with his dad at the helm at the beginning of their second year.
Just as his stomach growled angrily at him again, demanding sustenance, Ron spotted them in the gathering dusk - three wizards on brooms in the distance. Gasping, his stomach shutting up as it clenched in fear, Ron dropped below the tree line into some nearby woods, hoping that they hadn’t spotted him. He almost set down, but then decided he was better off hidden in the snow laden branches of the trees.
“Over there - I sawr ‘im go down over ‘ere somewhere...” he heard someone shout. “Must be a mudblood tryin’ to evade capture.”
“Hah, we’ll find ‘im soon enough. ‘E can’t be far,” yelled another.
Heart pounding in his ears, Ron inwardly cursed and held his breath when the third drifted closer towards the tree he was hiding in. His eyes grew bigger when he saw through the branches and twigs how close the wizard was. Ron knew that they’d spot him at any moment, and he had no wand with which to fight. But fleeing simply wasn’t an option on the stupid slow broom he’d stolen from the Minister’s house.
The broom! That was it! Ron couldn’t believe his eyes when he realised that the Snatcher a mere metre or two away from him was riding a Firebolt. Ron gulped and wished he hadn’t looked down when he saw how far below the ground was. Ron took a deep breath to steel himself; he’d only have one chance to get this right.
The idiot on the broom was closer than ever and Ron saw his opportunity; he leapt from the tree limb onto the back of the Snatcher’s broomstick and grabbed at his wand.
“OI... WOT THE BLOODY HELL?” yelled the startled Snatcher.
Ron slugged him on the jaw and heard it crack. The unconscious wizard tumbled from his broom, crashing through the branches as he hurtled towards the ground surrounded by falling clumps of snow and icicles. Without a second thought, Ron spun the broom around and began shooting stunning spells at the other two bearing down on him.
They both returned fire and missed, shocked when Ron charged at them instead of turning tail as they’d expected he would. Ron was amazed by the Firebolt’s speed and handling. He passed right between the pair of Snatchers and stunned them both.
Ron couldn’t help hoping that they’d break their necks when they hit the ground as he flew off at high speed. And with any luck, on the Firebolt, he’d be long gone before anyone noticed that Ron had activated the Trace.

~o0o~
Harry and Hermione shuffled through the powdery drifts of snow, their breath clouding in the bitter air on that cold mid-January evening as Dora and Fleur strolled beside them, chatting amiably about the idea of returning to Hogwarts on a part-time basis.
Feeling like a bit of fresh air, the four of them had left Daphne and Jennifer in the Unaffiliated Common Room with Ginny, Luna, and Parvati, where they were all giggling about the new private quarters which belonged to the three newest members of the unofficial “House.”
Movement in the night-sky caught the corner of Hermione’s vision. She glanced upwards, her eyes widening.
“Harry!” she squealed, pointing at someone approaching on a broomstick, silhouetted against the stars and waning moon.
“Blimey! Who’s that?” muttered Harry, whipping out his wand.
“Hopefully someone alright!” said Dora, reaching into her robes for her mirror, frowning in puzzlement. “Dumbledore, Flitwick, and McGonagall set up wards to keep any Ministry folk out... Mightn’t work against someone imperiused if they’re staff or a student though.”
In the darkness, the figure was still too distant for normal human eyes, but Fleur’s pupils widened, glowing in the silvery moonlight.
“I cannot believe it...” she gasped.
“Who is it, Fleur?” asked Harry, beginning to feel alarmed, wondering if it was someone mad like Bellatrix Lestrange.
“Ees your friend, I believe... ze one who was taken!”
“It is... it’s Ron!” squeaked Hermione as the figure in the sky drew closer.
“Ron? ... Bloody hell! Are you sure?” Harry pulled off his smudged glasses, wiped them on his coat and replaced them, squinting.
“Yes Harry! It’s definitely Ron!” said Hermione excitedly.
“Wow!” Harry exclaimed, gaping in amazement as Ron drew nearer at a rapid clip. “Whatever he’s flying is bloody fast.”
Harry lit his wand and began waving it, jumping up and down to get Ron’s attention. Dora snapped out of her own amazed stupor and joined in. Hermione followed suit, and all three of them began yelling Ron’s name. Fleur shook her head and smirked, pulling off a glove and shooting up a burst of flame from her raised hand.

~o0o~
A wispy cloud drifted across the sliver of moon in the starry sky as the shadowed walls and towers of the castle loomed ahead, warm yellow light pouring from all of the windows. Ron felt a surge of relief; he’d made it, finally! As he dropped closer to the snow-covered treetops, a reddish-orange flare shot up and several moving lights caught his attention in the darkness below.
Ron was surprised to see four dark shadows on the snowy lawn at this time of night, three of them leaping wildly and waving lit wands. When he was close enough, he could faintly hear them shouting his name. Ron put on one last burst of speed and swooped down towards the figures.
Tumbling from his new broom into the snow, Ron couldn’t believe it when Harry rushed at him, beaming, and a bushy haired missile flung her arms around him. Dora and Fleur both stood back, grinning as the Potters set upon Ron.
“Blimey you two!” chortled Ron. “Let a bloke breathe...”
“Are you alright Ron? What happened with the Minister and Percy? How’d’you escape? Is that a Firebolt?” The questions flew from Harry’s mouth in rapid-fire.
Ron staggered, briefly overwhelmed by the onslaught, his muscles screaming after being frozen to the broom for so long.
“Easy you two!” Dora chortled. “Give ‘im a chance to catch his breath.”
The Potters both stepped back, blushing slightly. Hermione’s own breath caught sharply when Ron’s disheveled state became readily apparent.
“Ron!” she squeaked. “You poor thing! Your hand, it’s all swollen and your knuckles are bleeding... and why aren’t you wearing gloves?”
“Er... it’s nothing!” Ron muttered nonchalantly, “I might’ve busted a finger though - but you should see Percy and the other bloke!” he concluded with a grin.
Harry raised his eyebrows and looked impressed, opening his mouth to ask for details; but Hermione was having none of it.
“A broken finger is not nothing Ronald Weasley!” Hermione snapped, giving Ron a stern look. “And look at you! You must be frozen half to death. You’re going to the hospital wing this instant!”
“Can’t it wait?” Ron groaned, “I’m bloody famished...”
“You can eat in the hospital wing after Pomfrey’s seen to you. Come on then...” said Hermione firmly but kindly as she began to march Ron up to the castle.
Harry grinned at his wife, then shot Ron an apologetic look as he strode beside them. Fleur tittered and Dora couldn’t help letting out a muted guffaw.

~o0o~
Madam Pomfrey hadn’t the heart to turn the Potters out as she settled Ron into bed and healed his broken finger and several cracked knuckles. She had given him a number of potions for swelling, pain, hypothermia, and exhaustion, and called for a house-elf to bring Ron some supper.
It was a testament to how worried that both Potters had been for Ron, that neither of them fussed him about his dreadful table manners as he regaled them with his exploits while eating.
“You should’ve seen me...” Mashed potatoes flew from Ron’s mouth as he told them about the Snatchers. “There must’ve been at least half a dozen of them - maybe more. But I canooed the one bloke after I leapt on his Firebolt and snagged his wand...”
“Pardon?” interjected Harry, looking slightly bewildered. “Canooed?”
“Yeah... I hit him real hard like this...” Ron jerked his closed fist and a few peas rolled off his dinner plate. “Probably broke his jaw! Fred and George told me you were the one who showed them...”
Hermione looked a bit ill at the thought of someone’s jaw breaking, or maybe it was just the sight of gravy dripping from Ron’s chin. Light dawned on Harry and he grinned, shaking his head.
“Oh, you mean you Kung Fu-ed him,” said Harry with a little laugh. “You might’ve been better off with a palm strike though - at least your finger would be. Still, that’s bloody brilliant Ron!
“So how’d you take out the other five Snatchers,” Harry asked pointedly, smirking. Ron’s ears turned red and Hermione stifled a giggle.
“Erm... well... mightabinclosert’two,” Ron mumbled. He washed down his mouthful of food with some pumpkin juice before finishing his story.
“Anyway, the Firebolt handled like a champ - really fast. The Snatchers were shooting spells but they couldn’t hit me. I flew right between ‘em and stunned one, then the other. They both fell off their brooms and I hoofed it before anyone else showed up.
“I found the railway tracks again and kept flying. I must’ve still been pretty far from Hogwarts though, because even as fast as the Firebolt was, it still seemed to take a couple of hours to get here...”
Ron thought he’d better finish his dinner before telling the Potters the rest of it when he saw Hermione looking a bit green. Hastily he wiped the gravy from his chin and cleared his plate in no time flat. He had just eaten his last bite when Dumbledore entered the hospital wing.
The Potters listened as the youngest Weasley son told his story again for the headmaster, which Ron was only too happy to do. When Ron got to the bit that he hadn’t told Harry and Hermione yet, Dumbledore shared a dark look with the Potters.
Ron revealed that he’d overheard the Minister and Percy plotting something to draw out Harry and Dumbledore in an attempt to capture them, and unlock the mystery of the Secret Weapon once and for all.
“...I dunno what though. They hadn’t worked anything out yet,” said Ron. “They were going to when the Minister got back from talking to the muggle Prime Minister and some other muggle bloke - a ‘proper-grandist’ or something like that. Anyway I knocked Percy out and left before she came back...”
“And I am quite glad that you did, Mr Weasley,” the headmaster responded warmly. “You have done splendidly indeed, returning to us safe and sound - and on top of that, providing the Potters and myself with valuable information upon which we can act when the opportunity arises.
“Your parents should be very proud! Speaking of which, I had better inform them of your safe return before the night wears on much longer.”
Dumbledore twinkled at Ron and turned to Harry and Hermione.
“Well Harry, Mrs Potter, perhaps it is best that we all leave our young hero to his well deserved rest before Madam Pomfrey decides it is time to turf us all out... We can discuss our own countermeasures in coming days...”
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Moments in Love