From a Serpent to a Lioness: Year Two

The morning sun was just cresting the horizon as George Weasley brings the baby-blue Ford Anglia lower, towards the Burrow. As soon as all fours wheels touch down, George cuts the engine, coasting near-silently to a halt near the pigsty, and I smile at Harry.

 “It’s good to see you,” I say, using my girl voice. Fred and George are smirking, as their younger brother and the Boy Who Lived gawp at me. I wink, and open the car door, slipping out and stretching.

George pops the boot of the car, as Ron and Harry extract his trunk from the compartment. Fred tidies every speck of evidence the car’s been used with practiced ease. It’s clear the twins have been up to no good with this vehicle before.

 

George slips on ahead to open the door into the kitchen, beckoning us to follow with a quiet, “okay, come on,” and we follow, Harry in the middle of our little group. As Harry silently wanders around the kitchen, staring in fascination at a frying-pan washing itself, and a clock with far too many hands to be used for timekeeping, the twins sneakily purloin a couple of large, freshly-made scones. Ron helps himself as well, taking a huge bite out of his stolen prize.

Three of the clock hands, which look like spoons set with a moving portrait of Ron, George, and Fred, shift across the clock’s face, landing on ‘HOME’. I sigh. “Thank Merlin my father doesn’t have one of those, I’d never have a moment’s peace.” I say, having slipped properly back into my femme voice.

Over in a well-stuffed armchair, similar to the ones in the Gryffindor common room, a pair of knitting needles click and whisk against each other, yarn coiling out from a basket as some unidentifiable piece of knitwear. Ron chimes in cheerfully, through another mouthful of scone, “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Harry’s grinning widely, and I feel a pang of sympathy in my chest as he murmurs, almost without meaning to, “I think it’s brilliant…”

 

As if from nowhere, Molly Weasley appears at the bottom of the stairs, so quickly that you could swear she’d apparated there.  “Where HAVE you been?!” she shrills, and the three Weasley siblings guiltily hide their pilfered scones in pockets or behind backs.

As if she’d only just noticed, she starts to beam. “Harry, how wonderful to see you, dear.” She bustles forwards and puts her hands on her hips, her three sons looking like scolded hounds.

“Beds empty! No note! Car gone! You could have died! You could’ve been seen!”

She holds her hands up towards Harry and myself. “Of course, I don’t blame you two, dears. Max, you should be careful with what you follow these reprobates into!” 

Ron, who’d seemingly forgotten the need to hide the snack he’d… ‘acquired’, chimed in, swallowing a bite, “They were starving ‘im, mum! There were bars on ‘is window!”

Wagging a stern, imperious finger in front of his nose, Mrs Weasley snaps, “Well you’d best hope I don’t put bars on your window, Ronald Weasley!”  He both goes a little cross-eyed to keep the finger in view, and pale, as if that’s not an idle threat.

Turning to us, she smiles again. “Come on, Max, Harry. Time for a spot of breakfast!”

As we get seated around the long, old wooden table, I can hear the sound of loud, light footsteps. Ginny must be on her way down. Mrs Weasley dishes up yet more enormous quantities of delicious home-cooked food. “Here you are, Harry. Tuck in, that’s it, there we go!”

A second plate lands before me, brimming with toast, sausages, mushrooms, eggs, bacon, and tomatoes, and I pick up my fork and knife, cutting into a sausage deftly. Good manners cost nary a knut, after all!

The redhaired girl bursts into the kitchen in her pyjamas and dressing-gown, anxiously asking, “Mummy, have you seen my jumper?”

Molly smiles fondly, “Ohhh, yes dear! It was on the cat!”

Ginny pauses, staring, and Harry looks up. With a shy smile that seems out of place on his boyish face, he says, “Hello,” and Ginny backs up, her eyes almost bugging out, before she turns and bolts in a swish of crimson hair. The twins begin grinning, nudging each other and chuckling under their breaths. Poor Harry looks quite confused. “What did I do?” he asks, and Ron shrugs.

“Ginny. She’s been talkin’ about you all summer. Bit annoying, really.”

I sit there, trying not to explode. Merlin’s beard, she LIKES him! Ginny has a crush on Harry! Oh, this is too precious for words; she’s so shy about it, too!

Luckily, Ron and Harry are kind of… oblivious when it comes to matters of the heart. I’m not any more experienced, but… call it a woman’s intuition. Looks like I count, after all!

The door opens, and Mr Weasley tramps in with a cheerful call of, “Morning, Weasleys!” A chorus of returned greetings answer him, and he tugs off his pointy hat.

“What a night. Nine raids. Nine!”

Harry looks askance at Ron. “Raids?”

Ron works a mouthful of toast down his neck before muttering, “Dad works in th’ Ministry of Magic, in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office.”

He adds, “Dad loves muggles. Thinks they’re fascinating!”

Arthur takes a seat as his wife dishes up his breakfast. “Well now!” he says appreciatively, before looking up at Harry. “And who are you?” he asks, only curiosity in his tone.

Harry swallows his last bite of eggs. “Oh! Sorry, sir. I’m Harry, sir. Harry Potter.”

Mr Weasley’s eyes light up. “Good Lord. Are you really??”

Harry looks a little sheepish, and Mr Weasley turns his attention back to his plate. “Well! Ron’s told us all about you, of course!” he tacks on, asking seemingly at random, “when did he get here?”

Mrs Weasley turns and purses her lips. “This MORNING,” she says tartly. “Your sons flew that enchanted car of yours all the way to Surrey and back last night! And they roped poor Max into it, too!”

Arthur looks at us all, intently. “Did you really? How’d it go?” Molly immediately whirls round to scold her husband, swatting him on the shoulder. He hastily amends, “I mean—that was very wrong indeed, boys, very wrong of you.”

As the table settles, Mr Weasley resumes his breakfast, before selecting a topic, seemingly at random. “Now then, Harry, you must know all about muggles. Tell me, what EXACTLY is the function of a rubber DUCK?” he crams a chunk of black pudding into his mouth.

As Harry grasps for a way to explain, a screeching sound disturbs the relative peace, coming through an open window. Molly leans toward the window to peer out. “Well that’ll be Errol with the post.” She mutters.

In the distance, a large owl, a Great Grey by the size and look, swoops towards the Burrow, beak clutching a bundle of letters. He banks, spreading his wings-

 

And collides with the CLOSED half of the window with an indignant screech, tumbling out of sight. Everyone winces. Molly clears her throat. “Fetch it, will you, Percy, please?”

Percy Weasley rises and heads for the window. “Errol?”

To Ron’s beleaguered, “He’s ALWAYS doing that!”, the large owl hops onto the windowsill and beaks over the post. Opening the bundle, Percy makes his way towards the table again. “Oh, look! It’s our Hogwarts letters. And they’ve sent us Harry’s and Max’s as well.”

Arthur blinks, “Dumbledore must know you two are here. Doesn’t miss a trick, that man!”

 Fred, or is it George, looks over his twin’s shoulder. “This won’t come cheap, mum. The spellbooks alone are expensive!”

She responds, quietly but firmly, “we’ll manage. Anyway, there’s only one place we’re going to get all of this. Diagon Alley.”

About half an hour later, everyone’s wearing their cloaks, the breakfast things are put away (I helped, though probably not very much since I don’t know where everything belongs), and we assemble in the living room as Mrs Weasley grabs a small earthenware pot from a holder by the fireplace. I can see the tell-tale ashy dust in it is Floo powder. After all, it’s the same stuff I used to get here in the first place. Almost every wizarding household has a container of it standing by.

 

Molly turns to us. “Alright, here we are. Harry, you go first, dear.”

Ron interjects, “but mum! Harry’s never travelled by Floo powder before.”

Harry’s blank expression is proof enough that he has no idea what Floo powder even is.

 Molly rallies quickly. “Then you go first, Ron, so that Harry can see how it’s done!” Ron steps forwards, and Mrs Weasley holds out the pot to her son as he steps into the empty fireplace, turning round to face us. Taking a good handful of powder, Ron raises his clenched fist as Molly backs away.

“Diagon Alley!”

Ron’s voice rings out, nice and clear, and he gently throws the handful of Floo powder at his feet. A burst of blazing emerald flames that last for a few brief moments leap up with a booming roar, before snuffing themselves out as quickly as they’d erupted into life. The fireplace is empty, no Ronalds here.

Molly bustles towards the fireplace again. “Now your turn, Harry. Come on, no need to be scared!” she gently ushers him into the fireplace, reminding him to duck under the mantelpiece. Once Harry’s situated, she holds up the pot.  “Right, now take your Floo powder… that’s it, very good. Now, don’t forget to speak very, VERY clearly!”

With a look on his face like he’s about to sneeze, Harry raises his fist and speaks, before hurling the powder.

“Diagonally!”

 

Once the flames die down, Molly inches towards the now-vacant hearth. “What… what did he say, dear?”

Arthur clarifies, “diagonally.” Molly winces a little. “I thought he did.”

 

 

DIAGON ALLEY, OUTSIDE EYLOP’S OWL EMPORIUM

 

I nervously look around, hoping Harry didn’t end up lost forever. There’s no guarantee he’ll be able to make his way back to the Burrow, so we’d all come through, hoping to find him wandering around. Hermione had joined us, and she already looks taller and more assured than she did during our first year. A small growth-spurt has put her on my level while I’m boymoding now, so I’ll likely be a couple of inches shorter when I get back to myself again. She hugs me, and hands over something. A medium-sized bottle containing a gloopy, muddy-coloured potion, and a familiar twist of mixed hairs. “I came prepared. Your clothes are in my trunk, I’ll get them out for you before we board the train!”

Taking the potion and hair, I tuck them away safely and hug her. “It’s good to see you, Hermione.  You look very well; I hope your break was relaxing!”

She smiles. “Actually, I did! I take it yours was… less than satisfactory?”

“Oof, yes! I can’t wait to get back to Hogwarts, and being myself!”

Suddenly, Hermione’s eyes widen. I whirl to see… “Harry! And Hagrid, too!”

 

The bearded giant’s face crinkles into a warm smile. “ ‘Ello, Hermione! ‘Allo, Max!”

Hermione and Harry exchange greetings, and I smile, Mini appearing from wherever she’d been exploring and scrabbling at my leg. I lean down and scoop her up, wincing as her claws dig into my calf. “Easy, Mini, you’re my good girl. I think I need to trim your claws a little, though!”

I snicker a little as Hermione tuts, “what did you do to your glasses?!”

I look over. Sure enough, they’re a bit cracked and dinged up. I remember how she’d scowled at me when I beat her to the punch in fixing them last year.  I’ll let her have her turn.

“Whipping out her wand, the brunette witch recites, “oculus reparo!”

Harry’s grateful look and chuckle of, “I definitely need to remember that one!” causes a small earthquake as Hagrid chortles briefly. “Yeh’ll be alright now, ‘Arry? I’ll leave yeh to it, then. Bye now, see you at school!”