Ron wasn't stupid.
He knew his Mum would kill him if she caught him and Ginny practicing Quidditch manoeuvres out alone in the field in the early hours of morning without adult supervision.
But that's exactly what they were doing.
He was practicing his Keeper moves with old gloves that had once belonged to his Uncle Octavius and Ginny was ducking and diving like a proper Chaser. Ron's plan was simple: if Harry was going to drop Divination (and maybe Ron didn't entirely blame him because Trelawney was a nightmare for predicting Harry's death) then Ron would join the Quidditch team so they could spend more time with each other. It was a good plan.
Yes, he'd kind of been thinking about it anyway because Oliver Wood had graduated and so Gryffindor would need a Keeper and Ron had always, always wanted to play Quidditch for his House team. Keeper was a good position; solid and unfancy but one that usually held the captaincy more often than not. Ron wasn't expecting that – he knew the others on the team would get first go since they'd been playing for longer than him and he didn't see anyone denying Harry the badge once the current Chaser girls graduated.
He ignored the twinge of envy and focused on his long term goal: if he did well on the House team, he might wrangle a try-out with a professional team and from there…one day he might become a Quidditch manager.
It was his dream.
His secret dream that he hadn't even spoken to Harry or anyone about it because, well, his Mum would have a fit about him not going to the Ministry, and Harry and he had never really talked about what they wanted to do after school. Ron was half-scared if he told Harry, Harry would tell him how stupid Ron's dream was (not that he thought Harry would because Harry was Harry) but more because his even more secret dream was that Harry would be the Seeker on the same Quidditch team and that was far too girly for words.
His plan wasn't as girly as Ginny's plan, thought Ron banging the gloves together as he positioned his broom to counter Ginny's run at the hoop. Ginny's plan (or as he had spotted her calling it on a piece of parchment with hearts and flowers drawn all around it, the 'Harry Will Be My Boyfriend' plan) had three points (which reminded Ron far too much of Hermione's organised mind): first, become Harry's friend; second, become a fantastic Quidditch player and have something in common with Harry which they both liked doing; and third, marry Harry and have his babies.
Ron thought she was barmy.
Personally, Ron didn't think Harry was all that interested in Ginny (he went into his 'I'm very uncomfortable' mode whenever Ginny was around but then she always went into her 'I'm next to the Boy Who Lived' mode so Ron couldn't blame him) which was a shame because Ron had thought in a vague kind of way that one day, possibly, way into the future, it would be OK with him if Harry married Ginny and became an official Weasley. Not that Harry would because if it had been a faint possibility when he'd been the Boy Who Lived, it was non-existent now he was Lord Potter and likely to end up with the most beautiful woman ever. Hence, Ginny was barmy.
He was only helping her with her Quidditch because Ginny had caught Ron sneaking out the second day and had blackmailed him into it. And maybe it was useful to have an actual person throwing the Quaffle at him rather than just performing the training drills.
Ron wasn't all that bothered about girls himself although he was beginning to get teased by his brothers about looking when they were out and about. And maybe he was – looking. Because yes, it hadn't escaped his attention that some girls were pretty and cute and had started to develop in interesting ways that certainly made his teenage hormones sit up and take notice. But looking was far different from doing the stuff Dean and Seamus had been talking about in the dorm the previous year (kisses with tongues sounded very disgusting and he really didn't think Amy Fairchild, the fifth year Hufflepuff prefect had done anything to Seamus in a broom cupboard no matter what he claimed). But he knew fourth year was the year most people started dating and he didn't want to be last, but he wasn't quite brave enough to think about approaching girls and was fairly relieved that Harry seemed happy enough not to bother either.
He blocked Ginny's run and threw her the Quaffle back. She was, he considered generously, quite a decent flyer. He checked his watch. It was time for them to go back in. He signalled for Ginny to head down but she shook her head, red hair flying like a banner behind her. He grimaced and flew over to her because if he yelled their Mum was sure to hear him.
"What are you doing?" He hissed. "Mum'll be up soon." He knew; he had it timed to the second when she got up.
"We have at least another five minutes, Ron." Ginny said, gripping the old broom she was using tightly. "Come on; one more run?"
Ron checked his watch again, estimated how long it would take them to sneak back in. They'd be cutting it fine…he sighed. "One more run." He flew back to avoid her triumphant expression.
He took up his position in front of the goals, imagining again Harry's surprise when Ron made the team. It was going to be…
Ginny shot towards him and Ron focused. He could save the goal; he could save the goal…
She raised the Quaffle and threw it…
It arched through the air…
Ginny lost her balance and screamed…
And tumbled down…
Down…
Down…
"GINNY!" Ron didn't care if his Mum heard him as he dived frantically, pushing the old broom past its top speed, a twig snapping free…
He wasn't going to make it…
His heart pounded, wind rushing over him as he spurred the broom on.
They were almost at the ground…but suddenly she was right there in front of him…
And his arm went around her, catching her, yanking her falling body towards his own…
The broom lurched and wobbled as Ron sought control…
And lost it.
They fell six foot onto the hard ground.
Ron tried to keep hold of his sister but couldn't and he landed with a thump onto his side, his hip taking the worst of it. Ron tried to catch his breath but his body was winded from the fall. He rolled over, trying to find his sister.
Ginny was lying motionless beside him.
His heart froze in panic. No. No. She was fine, she was fine, she was…
"Ginny!" Ron crawled over to her.
And thank Merlin, she moved!
"RONALD!" His Mum's voice screamed in the distance. "GINNY!"
Footsteps pounded over the ground towards them.
"Ron!" Ginny's face was wet with tears. "It hurts!"
Ron paled and his stomach roiled at the sight of her arm, bone sticking up through an angry gash. "It's OK," he swallowed hard, "it's OK, just a small…a break. Mum'll see you set right."
And Charlie was suddenly there. Ron gave a sob of relief at the sight of his brother who must have apparated to get to them so quickly.
"Ron…" Charlie began urgently.
"Ginny!" Ron motioned at her. "Check Ginny!"
Ginny was crying in earnest as Charlie hurriedly started casting spells to determine the damage.
"Ginny! Ronald! Oh, thank Merlin!" His Mum was there all of a sudden, nightie tangled around her legs. Her own wand weaved as she took over damage control. "What were you thinking?! You could have both been killed!"
"Mum!" Ginny burrowed into their Mum's embrace as she knelt down in the dewy wet grass to comfort her daughter. "Hurts!"
His Dad, Fred and George arrived, Percy bringing up the rear having stopped for a dressing gown and slippers unlike everyone else whose attire of pyjamas gave away that they'd run straight from their beds.
Ron swiped at his face. "Is she going to be OK?"
Molly shot him an angry look as she cradled Ginny closer. "She needs a Healer."
Run flushed under the weight of his mother's disapproval. She blamed him.
"So does Ron." Charlie stated briskly. "I saw him from my bedroom window after hearing her scream. He fell a fair bit when he broke her fall. My diagnostic says he mostly bruised and he's sprained his shoulder."
"He broke her fall?" Arthur asked sharply.
"He dived like a mad thing to get to her." Charlie explained, waving his hand at Ron. "He caught her, almost had her, but lost control of his own broom."
His parents' ire ebbed a little.
"Arthur, take Ginny. Charlie, help your brother." Molly ordered crisply. "Percy, run back to the house and call Healer Primrose. Fred, George…"
"We'll look for the brooms…"
"…and the Quaffle!"
They took off before she could say anything else.
Charlie helped Ron to his feet and he was grateful for the support of his brother's strong hand under his skinned elbow. Ron's knees felt wobbly. He wondered if Harry had felt the same way after saving Ginny in the Chamber.
"Straight up to the bathroom with Ronald, Charlie!" Molly said as they reached the Burrow. "Get him cleaned up."
Charlie urged Ron towards the stairs as their father placed Ginny down on the sofa, Molly hurrying into the kitchen for potions. Percy was still kneeling in front of the floo explaining what had happened to Healer Primrose as Ron started up the stairs.
Charlie pushed him toward the bathroom. "Strip and shower in warm water. Your body will appreciate it later."
Ron grimaced as Charlie made him keep the door open in case he fell. He struggled out of his practice gear, wincing when his shoulder complained. He hopped under the warm water and let himself cry a little more under the cover of the noise. He could hear bangs and calls from downstairs. He washed himself quickly, surprised at the sting of soap on cuts and grazes he hadn't noticed. His left hip and thigh which had taken the brunt of the fall were covered with a huge bruise and twinges of pain spiked down his leg. He climbed tiredly out of the shower and wrapped his lower body in a towel.
Charlie helped him into his room and sat down with him. "She'll be OK, Ron."
"When she fell…" Ron swiped at his eyes again, "it happened so fast, Charlie!"
"It does. Hubert Shelling fell off his broom in a practice session once in my fifth year. Keith Teller tried to catch him but his broom wasn't fast enough…Madame Hooch was able to slow his descent." Charlie grimaced and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "He was still out for over a month with a fractured skull."
Ron stood up and retrieved a clean pair of briefs from his underwear drawer, needing to do something. He realised his hands were shaking.
"Here," Charlie ushered him under the duvet as soon as he had his underwear on, "you're in a fair amount of shock, Ron." He had just finished tucking Ron up when the Healer bustled in with their father.
Ron gave the old woman who had been their family Healer for years an anxious look. "Ginny?"
"Your sister's all sorted, young Ronald." Healer Primrose said sternly. She ran a quick diagnostic, opened her bag and took out several vials. "Calming draught." She handed him a vial and he drank it down with disgust. She waved her wand several times over his shoulder which suddenly stopped hurting so much. "The swelling and the slight sprain have been fixed." She frowned and did the same movement over his hip. "You're very lucky you didn't break your pelvis, young man."
He blanched at that thought but the sedative was already turning his mind to slush.
"Take this."
He obediently swallowed the pain relief potion.
"Use this on the bruising." She handed him a jar of ointment and snapped her bag shut. "Well, I'm done. Arthur."
"Thank you, Dotty." Arthur said softly, looking tired; his thin red hair sticking up everywhere. "Charlie, can you see Healer Primrose out? Your mother's with Ginny."
Charlie gave Ron a sympathetic smile and left with the old witch. Ron was alone with his Dad.
"Ginny explained everything." Arthur said. "How the two of you have been sneaking out to practice for the past month. How she lost her balance when she threw the Quaffle and how you saved her."
Ron swallowed hard under the relentless blue glare of his father.
"I'm very proud of what you did in saving your sister," Arthur continued, "but I am deeply disappointed that you both put yourselves at risk by sneaking out in such a way. You, in particular, Ronald, should have known better as the elder. We could have lost you both today." His father's voice broke on the last sentence and he had to turn away to gather his composure.
Ron's eyes burned with shame, and one lone tear trickled out and down his cheek. In many ways, his father's disappointment cut deeper than his mother's anger.
"The draught Healer Primrose gave you will mean you sleep off most of the shock. When you wake up, you will remain in your room and think about your actions for the rest of today. Your brothers will check on you throughout the day and bring you your meals." Arthur said firmly. "Understood?"
Ron nodded. "Harry's supposed to come over later." He said roughly.
"I'll owl Sirius and cancel."
His father made to leave.
"Dad…" Ron pressed his lips together. "Is Mum…"
"Your mother has had a very big shock and is with your sister." Arthur said not unkindly. "You need to give her some time to calm down, Ron."
Ron swallowed around the hard lump in his throat and nodded again.
"Go to sleep, son."
It was as though the words were magic because Ron felt his body give up and sleep overtake him.
When he woke up, Charlie was there. He threw down the Prophet and shepherded Ron through another round of ablutions, an application of the bruising ointment, and getting dressed in some comfortable clothes; old pyjama bottoms and a softened Quidditch tunic that had originally been Charlie's and had Weasley stamped on the back. He reassured him Ginny was sleeping.
It was Charlie who brought his lunch of two huge cheese sandwiches, and a couple of apples, all accompanied by a glass of milk and more pain potion. He promised him that the twins had been nowhere near any of it. After lunch though, Ron was left alone.
He tried in a desultory way to tackle his homework but he was too upset and his mind wouldn't settle on any of the essays. He threw himself back on his bed and had another cry, careful to keep quiet so he wouldn't alert anyone to the fact that he was crying, while at the same time wanting to be discovered so someone knew how badly he felt.
The whole thing was Ginny's fault, Ron determined morosely. She had been the one that had insisted on flying with him. She had been the one that had lost her balance and fallen. It was her fault.
He had saved her life.
And he was injured!
Why was he being punished? They should be thanking him!
But the sense of self-righteousness dissipated with the memory of his sister lying so still on the ground…
The afternoon sun travelled across his bedroom as Ron contemplated the horror of almost losing her. It would have devastated their family. Ginny as the only girl was special. Ron knew that she was valued for that alone as much as he resented it. He fell asleep again, uneasy with thoughts of what could have happened.
It was Bill beside his bed when he woke again.
Bill set his book down and his eyes scoured over Ron with concern. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore." Ron said honestly. And stiff, his muscles protested as he sat up.
"Want the loo?"
Ron nodded and blushed as Bill walked him to the bathroom. His brother did refrain from entering and Ron washed up, feeling a little better with his immediate needs taken care of. Bill walked him back and left him, returning with a tray of food for both of them.
"Don't get too excited," Bill warned him, "Charlie cooked."
The stew wasn't bad; the beef was a little tough and the pepper was a tad on the heavy side but the gravy was otherwise tasty and it warmed Ron.
"How's Ginny?" Ron asked once his initial hunger was sated.
"Out of it which is to her benefit since Dotty gave her Skele-gro." He waved his fork. "She'll be fine by tomorrow."
Ron nodded slowly and wished he could go see her if only to remove the horrifying image of her lying on the ground from his head.
"You want to talk about it?" offered Bill, licking his fork and tearing another piece of bread to dunk into the gravy.
Ron shook his head and swallowed the mouthful he'd taken. "No, not really."
"Sounds like it was pretty scary from what Charlie said he witnessed." Bill commented.
"It was." Ron admitted. He scraped up the last of his stew and set the plate aside.
Bill handed him dessert – a bowl of ice-cream with some tinned peaches. Ron took it gratefully. He wasn't sure he would be allowed dessert since sometimes his Mum used withholding pudding as a punishment.
"You know when Mum was pregnant with you," Bill began, "Uncle Fabian had brought round his and Uncle Gideon's old brooms for me and Charlie to learn on. Anyway, Dad was working a lot of hours, Uncle Fabian and Gideon were never around either, and Mum was, well, pregnant with you and dealing with Percy and the twins all the time. Everybody would promise, 'next weekend, Bill' or 'I'll come home early tomorrow' but then it never happened."
Unwillingly, Ron found himself captivated by his brother's story. Bill and Charlie rarely told stories of their childhood but there again, Ron had never really asked either.
"So, there I was feeling very sorry for myself that nobody was paying attention to me," Bill continued, "and Charlie was almost as desperate so we snuck out after lunch one day while Mum was busy with the twins. Charlie gets on a broom and he's immediately in the air looking like he was born on the thing."
Just like Harry, Ron thought, the memory of Harry outclassing Draco to get Neville's Rememberall raising a small smile.
"I tried to do the sensible older brother thing and keep Charlie close to the ground but he was off dipping and diving." Bill pushed his finished stew aside and reached for his own bowl of ice-cream. "Anyway, there was a sudden gust of wind and Charlie lost height for a sec but somehow he managed to cling on and remained in control of the broom– but it was enough to unsettle me, I lost control and I took a tumble. I didn't fall far only about eight feet or so and landed in a bush but it was enough to knock the wind out of me, give me a nice set of bruises and scratches, and somehow a twisted ankle."
Usually Ron would be annoyed that he hadn't managed to do something unique; that his brothers had once again done something first. But Bill's story was comforting, a shared experience rather than a reminder that Ron was the youngest. Suddenly Charlie's sympathy that morning made a lot more sense.
"Anyway, my fall scared the pants off Charlie who screamed for Mum and then…well…after Dotty came by and fixed me up, I was told to stay in my room and think about what I'd done." Bill made a circular gesture that took in all of Ron's room. "I spent the time feeling rather sorry for myself in truth. Then Dad came home and gave me his disappointed look – you know the one?"
"Gave it to me this morning." Ron agreed despondently, pushing his empty bowl away.
"And we talked about what could have happened and how it was important that there was always an adult watching or aware of when we flew," Bill said, "and I had a good cry on Dad's shoulder and then…" he smiled, "and then he told me how he had snuck out with his little brother when they were twelve and ten and done pretty much the same thing only he'd ended up with a broken finger."
Ron's mouth gaped open.
"I'm fairly certain that Fred and George have sneaked out to fly," Bill went on, "they've probably just been lucky not to get injured."
It was immensely comforting to know that he hadn't been the only one to make the same mistake, Ron considered with relief.
"Ginny could have died." Ron said slowly, openly acknowledging the truth of it out loud for the first time.
"She could have but she didn't and that's what you need to focus on." Bill said firmly. "That and not doing something so stupid as to go flying without telling anyone again."
"Mum was furious." Ron said, his throat closing up.
"She'll come round. She just needs to be with Ginny today." Bill assured him. "But she loves you too."
And he knew that. Mum loved all of them fiercely. Sometimes he thought she loved them too much.
"So why have you been sneaking out exactly?" asked Bill pointedly. "Charlie said it has been going on for weeks."
"Oliver left," Ron explained, "and there's a Keeper position open. Ginny…" he stumbled over his sister's secret 'Make Harry My Boyfriend' plan and opted for something less humiliating for her, "…she's thinking about Chaser eventually."
"And that's all there is to it?" Bill pressed.
Ron blushed under Bill's intent regard. "Well, I might have thought it was a way for me and Harry to spend more time together since he's dropping Divination."
He found himself confiding in Bill about his secret dream of Quidditch as a career for himself and Harry.
"I know it's stupid…" Ron mumbled.
"It's not stupid. I think you'd make a great manager." Bill said, propping his feet in bright red socks up on Ron's bed. "And I think Harry would probably be Seeker for you because it would be you who asked."
"You think?" Ron began, excitement beginning to creep past the guilt and shock of the day's events.
"Of course whether he would really want to play Seeker is a different matter." Bill said.
Ron's mouth dropped open. "Why wouldn't he want to? He loves Quidditch!"
"Maybe, he's certainly out on his broom any chance he gets and he might have even mentioned Quidditch as a possible career the other day," allowed Bill, clasping his hands behind his head, "but have you actually asked Harry what he wants to do?"
He shook his head.
"How would you like it if Dad organised a job for you at the Ministry doing the administration for the Quidditch league?" Bill asked. "I mean you love Quidditch, right? So, you'd be happy with that job?"
Ron slumped back against his pillows, seeing Bill's point. "But Harry loves Quidditch." He repeated anyway.
His brother looked at him kindly and Ron could see he was debating internally what to say. "Harry is a great kid," he said eventually, "but his muggle family did a right number on him, Ron. Sirius and Remus are helping to build his confidence up but I get the impression he's still fairly unused to stating explicitly what he wants and what he likes."
Ron opened his mouth to argue before his brain caught up with him. "Harry is confident!" He insisted. "He faced down all those traps and stood up to You-Know-Who when he was Quirrell! He took on a basilisk for Ginny! And…and he even told Remus and Sirius not to kill Pettigrew because his Dad wouldn't want them to be murderers!"
Bill shifted; resuming a sitting position and leaning forward. "He's very brave and, believe me, I know, I've seen his memories of some of those events, but there's a difference between standing up in the heat of the moment and taking charge because there isn't really a choice type of confidence, and the being able to state clearly to someone you love and care about what you want type of confidence."
There was some truth in Bill's words that touched Ron quite deeply.
"You know he threw up twice the morning of the Wizengamot session and didn't tell Sirius because he didn't want to let Sirius down?" Bill said quietly.
Ron didn't say anything because his head was suddenly filled with a picture of Harry the morning of his first Quidditch match; shaky and pale and…had he thrown up then too? Ron had been so excited that his friend got to play Quidditch, he hadn't really considered that Harry might not have wanted to play.
"Afterwards, Sirius found out anyway," Bill said, "and he told Harry that he'd wished he'd said something because if Harry really didn't want to do it, Sirius would have organised things differently. Of course, it's not that easy because Harry does have responsibilities as Lord Potter and he has to get used to having to do stuff he doesn't want to do sometimes, but Sirius is trying to instil in Harry that he shouldn't feel that he always has to do what others want and expect of him ahead of his own wants and needs."
Ron tried to sort through Bill's words. He knew Harry had hated the idea of the Wizengamot session but he'd done OK with it, hadn't he? The Prophet had been filled for the last few days with the story of how wonderful Harry had been. Ron had envied him the adulation. But had that been what had Harry wanted? He had scowled when Ron had shown him the news articles when he'd come over for dinner the next day…
"You haven't been reading those, have you?" Harry said, throwing himself down on the grass next to Ron.
"Hey, I'm not the one who made headlines!" Ron argued, a hot rush of jealousy in his belly. "Why didn't you tell me everyone was going to swear fealty to you? I would have come and done the same!"
"Why would you want to swear fealty to me? And I didn't know they were going to do that!"
"Why wouldn't I want to swear fealty to you? I'm your best mate!" Ron retorted, slightly mollified that Harry hadn't kept things from him because he knew Harry was keeping some things from him because he'd said Sirius wouldn't let him tell him everything.
"Exactly!" Harry poked him in the arm. "You're my best mate!" He frowned at Ron. "Look, who was at my side when I went after the Philosopher's Stone? Or went to fight a basilisk? Or when we faced down Pettigrew in the Shack? You, and you didn't need any oath of fealty to be there either, did you?"
"Oh," said Ron getting that it was taken as read that he would fight beside Harry as his best friend, as Harry rolled his eyes at him.
"You know I think the wizarding world has it backwards; an alliance of friendship is much more important than the others."
"I don't really know what all the alliances mean." Ron muttered.
"Well, our alliance is one of friendship which from a Wizengamot perspective means that the other Houses know you're our friends and so may be more inclined to like or dislike you because of that." Harry explained. "But to me it means that you're my friends and if I needed you, I know you'd be there for me – and vice versa."
"Definitely vice versa, mate." Ron confirmed, trying not to blush like Harry was doing. "So what about the others and the fealty thing?"
"Well, alliances of mutual aid and support, mean one House agrees with another House's political agenda in the main and if called upon would provide political support, financial backing, that kind of thing." Harry pulled at the grass. "That's the kind of alliance we have with Neville and why his Gran is helping us so much with the political stuff."
"OK." Ron nodded his understanding.
"The Potter alliance thing…Hermione says it's like a muggle political party?"
Ron stared at Harry blankly.
"Right, um," Harry searched the sky for inspiration, "well, with a mutual aid and support alliance, the Houses can agree to disagree on bits that conflict in their agendas, and generally it's bad form to call upon the mutual aid and support if you know that the House isn't in favour with that bit you're trying to push. The Houses in the Potter alliance have agreed that my agenda is the best overall and they'll vote for my agenda even if it conflicts with their own."
"That's pretty cool," commented Ron.
"The fealty…well, you have to have and be part of something like the Potter alliance before a House can swear fealty anyway. But it means that if I can call upon the Houses or the Heirs in this case to provide me with military support – wands and magic to be used under my command in battle. Neville's Gran made him apologise to me for springing it on me and I think most of the others have been grounded for doing something like that without asking permission from their parents first. But like I said," Harry pushed his shoulder, "if you're my friend, you're going to be there beside me anyway."
"Too right, mate." Ron agreed, feeling better about not swearing fealty. He was Harry's friend; he didn't need to swear fealty.
"Come on," Harry dragged him to his feet, "you can beat me at chess! That always cheers you up."
"Let me ask you this, Ron," Bill said quietly breaking into Ron's thoughts, "did anyone askHarry if he wanted to play Quidditch?"
Ron cast his mind back. "No," he said finally, "I don't think they did. McGonagall saw him catching Neville's Rememberall after Malfoy threw it when we'd been ordered to stay on the ground. He thought she was marching him off to be expelled, but she took him to Oliver and told him she'd found him a Seeker."
"That doesn't sound like he was given much of a choice." Bill remarked. He waved at Ron. "What about the pair of you? Who usually decides what you do when you're not in class?"
Ron's heart sank because, adventures aside, he knew Harry usually went along with whatever Ron or Hermione wanted, or came up with some compromise to keep the peace. It wasn't that he never expressed a preference; just rarely – and then it was usually something like going to Hagrid's for tea which was obviously because he wanted to please Hagrid. "Why wouldn't he say anything if he didn't want to do something I wanted?" He said miserably.
"Because I suspect he's been trained not to express his own wants too much by his muggle relatives, and he probably doesn't want to lose your friendship – it means a lot to him."
"It means a lot to me too." Ron said defensively.
"Seeing as you're planning on a career for the both of you, I can see that." Bill teased gently. "But it is possible to stay friends with someone and not do the same thing. Look at me and Kevin. He's off doing his thing at Unified Apothecaries with potion research and I'm working as a curse-breaker. And, you haven't gone along to all of Harry's lessons this Summer and you're still friends, right?"
"Yeah, but…" Ron sighed heavily. "That's just it! He's Lord Potter now and he has all of these new lessons and new friends and…and what will he want with me anymore?"
"Ah, Ron." His brother stood up and crossed the room and dragged Ron into a one-armed manly hug.
Ron was grateful for the solid comfort although his bruised body wasn't.
Bill patted his back and sat back on the bed. "Do you think Harry's a bad friend?"
"Of course not!" Ron said.
"Then why do you think he's going to dump you just because he's made friends with some other people and has lessons to help him deal with his heritage and position?" Bill asked patiently.
"He wouldn't, he's not like that." Ron allowed, reddening brightly. "I know that and I know it makes no sense but…I just thought – I don't how to fit in with him now. You don't know what it's like, Bill, because you were the first! I've never gotten anything new." He suddenly had a thought which pointed out the lie in the statement and blushed again. "I mean, apart from the dress robes. I did say thanks, didn't I?"
"You did." Bill reached over and mussed his hair.
"Anyway, Harry was the same, really. I mean, I know he had the money from his parents for school but the muggles were awful to him and never gave him anything nice and it's not that I wanted him to stay with them…" he trailed away, unable to put his thoughts into words. "He's got all these new clothes and a new house and – and I'm happy for him, I am, but…" he shrugged unhappily. "I mean, Hermione's being sponsored by the House of Black so even she'll fit in better than me!"
"OK, that was a lot." Bill commented. "First things first: Harry's your friend, he's not about to dump you one way or another. He doesn't care about your clothes and your social position. Agreed?"
"Agreed." Ron said, something settling in his gut at Bill's confident assertion.
"Now, I can understand wanting to fit in and not wearing second-hand stuff is part of that," Bill continued, "that's partly why Charlie and I got you the dress robes. So let's tackle that part of it first. You have an educational fund from Sirius so when we go shopping for your school stuff, you can replace your old robes – we might even be able to sneak a couple of new non-school robes for your weekends in. I'm sure Sirius will agree a broom and Quidditch gear falls under the fund."
Ron snorted. "As if Mum will let me!"
"Ron…"
"No!" Ron protested vehemently. "You know what she's like! She'll say there's no need to waste money and she already thinks of it as charity even though it was to make up for…you know. And she hates Sirius! She'll not spend any of it just to spite him!"
"I'll talk with her." Bill promised. He paused and sighed. "Well, I'll get Dad to talk with her." He gave a small smile. "She has been better about Sirius since Harry's birthday."
Ron nodded at that because she had. Poor Harry, Ron thought, couldn't even have his birthday without getting a death threat.
"Right, so materially you'll be fine by September. And I do know how you feel, Ron. Once Mum had Percy, I ended up with second-hand robes and books just as much as the rest of you because money was tight. And while I will say that Dad's view that we're rich in love and money shouldn't matter is a nice one, I understand that in reality when you're at school and standing next to your peers, it does help your confidence and your ego to feel on you're on an equal Quidditch pitch. So I'll sort it for you either way. Agreed?" Bill said briskly.
"Agreed." Ron said a little apprehensively because he trusted Bill but their Mum was a force of nature and he couldn't see her changing her mind. But he was also a little more hopeful.
"Now, status and position." Bill sighed. "Well, you know that stuff's never been important to us. Dad's always said that what's important is that you're a good person and you live your life decently and honourably."
"I know." Ron said quietly, a little ashamed that status and position did matter to him.
"But the truth is that while neither Dad nor I really took any of the Ancient and Noble House stuff seriously, the last month has brought home to us that it is important." Bill concluded.
Ron looked up at him in surprise.
Bill nodded gravely. "We're an Ancient and Noble House. We should have a seat in the Wizengamot and we should be helping to decide our society's future. But we don't because Great-Granddad gambled away the seat and the bulk of the fortune, and Gramps rebelled against the establishment in response, and Dad is a good man but who has never been all that ambitious for himself." He gestured at Ron. "You've done more to help rebuild our status than either Dad or I."
"Me?" blurted Ron, shocked.
"You made friends with Harry. He approached us for an alliance of friendship." Bill stated. "That's because of you." He prodded Ron gently on a patch of unmarred skin. "Dad and I are doing our bit now but everyone in the family has a part to play in helping us rebuild our status including you."
"Me?" blurted Ron again.
"Yes," Bill said, "you remain a genuine friend to Harry – that's why he asked us into the alliance in the first place. Second, you get your head down, stop being a lazy prat and put some effort into your school work." His gaze drifted purposefully to the desk by the window which held Ron's untouched and uncompleted homework. "Sirius isn't going to stand for Harry having less than good grades. You need to keep up if you want to fit in and I know you're not stupid. You picked up learning your alphabet and numbers pretty quick."
Ron flushed but nodded.
"Third, if you're serious about your Quidditch career which I think is a great goal, then it would probably benefit you to go along to Harry's lessons on etiquette and politics. You'll need to learn how to interact with people on a social basis and influence them as a manager. That's essentially what Harry is learning." Bill concluded.
"Do you think he'll still let me come along?" Ron asked.
"I'll ask Sirius and Harry tomorrow but I don't think it'll be an issue." Bill said.
"What about Mum? She complained that Harry shouldn't have the lessons so I doubt she'll let me go to them." Ron pointed out.
"I'll talk with Mum." Bill promised before waving his hand. "Well, I'll get Dad to talk with Mum." He patted Ron's bad leg and Ron winced. "Sorry. OK with everything now?"
Ron nodded slowly. "Bill, is Harry OK? It's just…I know there's something more going on. There was that death threat and he was really upset a few weeks back when he and Sirius went to visit the Ministry but he said he couldn't talk about it and…"
"He's OK." Bill assured him. "He's dealing with a lot of change and – do you really think Sirius isn't going to give him the best protection he can?"
Ron shook his head. "I'm happy for him, you know, about Sirius. You can tell he really cares about Harry not like the muggles."
Bill ruffled his hair and stood up. He picked up a pain potion and gave it to Ron. "Come on. Take that potion, visit the loo and hop into bed."
Ron pulled a face but he followed instructions. Bill left him tucked up in bed but Ron wasn't all that sleepy. He heard a hoot and a tap on his window and hurried over to let Hedwig in.
"Hey there." Ron said stroking her head. She offered him her leg. Ron took the letter eagerly.
"Ron,
Heard what happened!
Sirius said your Dad told him you'd saved Ginny! Go you!
Hope you're OK though and didn't hurt yourself too badly. It's a shame you're grounded (I told Hedwig to deliver the letter directly to you late on when hopefully your parents aren't watching) – Hermione says you should take advantage and do your homework.
Write soon and tell me all about it (the fall not your homework), Harry."
Ron gave a chuckle. He scrawled a brief note; just enough to give Harry the highlights with a promise to tell him more the next time they saw each other. Hedwig took flight and Ron closed the window, slipping back to his bed.
He was almost asleep when he heard the vague sound of his door being opened and footsteps padding up to his bed. A hand swept through his hair and he mumbled indistinctly, caught on the edge of sleep.
"We could have lost him, Arthur."
His Mum sounded like she was crying.
"He's safe and thanks to him, so's Ginny." His Dad's calm tone soothed Ron back towards the pull of sleep. "Come on Molly-wobbles."
Ron felt the press of lips against his forehead and it jolted him back into semi-awareness. "Mum?"
"Shush now," his Mum said, "go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
"OK," mumbled Ron and leaning into the warm touch of his mother's hand on his hurt shoulder, he fell asleep.
o-O-o
The stone on the desk looked innocuous enough, Sirius thought. Dark and oval shaped, it didn't look anything special.
He looked across the desk at Dumbledore who stared at the stone with so much longing that it gave Sirius the creeps. His gaze quickly resettled on Bertie to his right who wore a grim expression.
"You're telling me this is the Resurrection Stone out of some old children's tale of the Hallows?" Sirius said sceptically.
"The Hallows are very real." Dumbledore said, lifting his gaze from the stone for the first time since they'd entered Bertie's office.
The small cramped space didn't scream 'office of the Head of the DOM,' instead it seemed more suited for a researcher who preferred books to people. Every inch of wall space was covered in bookshelves stacked high and deep with books and journals. The desk was small with hardly any wood showing under the mountain of parchment and more books; two plain chairs took up the available floor space in front, a comfortable worn leather office chair took up the space behind. It suited Bertie.
Bertie sighed heavily and nodded in agreement with Dumbledore. "The story of the Peverells is quite based in truth, Sirius." He sank down into his chair, looking old. "You know it?"
"It was Regulus's favourite story. He wanted another brother so we'd make three. Mother laughed at him." Sirius said in a clipped tone. He had read the story for nights on end to his little brother and they had played at being the brothers or Sirius had played at being Death and Regulus had played at being the hero Ignotus who managed to hide from him.
"Three brothers came to surging river created by Death as a trap for the unwary traveller. They worked together and used their magic to build a bridge to cross it." Bertie began the tale anyway. "Death appeared and congratulated them, offering them each a gift for their ingenuity but wanting in truth to trap them into giving up the lives he felt they had cheated him out of collecting."
"The eldest brother Antioch asked for a powerful wand," Dumbledore chimed in, "so Death went to an Elder tree and snapped off a branch fashioning it into a wand. He gave this wand to Antioch and Antioch went on his way."
"The second brother Cadmus had just lost his sweetheart to a plague and asked for a way to return the dead to life. Death picked a stone from the river bank and made it into a portal allowing the owner to bring back the shades of those who had died." Bertie recited.
"And the younger brother, Ignotus, asked to be allowed to leave without Death following him." Sirius said, impatiently. "Death gave him his own cloak of invisibility. Antioch was arrogant, boasted about his wand and immediately got killed by a thief who stole it from him; Cadmus brought his sweetheart to life again only not, realised the difference and committed suicide; Ignotus hid from Death under his cloak and lived a long life until he willingly went to Death." He pointed at the stone. "You really think this is the Stone."
"See this etching." Bertie pointed with his wand at the strange marking on the Stone. "It is the mark of a Hallow." He gestured tiredly. "Regardless of the story, it is likely that the Peverells were powerful wizards capable of creating wonderful artefacts; the artefacts themselves are real even if the story of Death gifting them to the brothers is a child's tale."
"OK." Sirius rubbed his forehead tiredly. "So it's a Hallow. It can call the dead back…" he blanched as he suddenly realised; James, Lily, Regulus even – all could be called back by the small innocuous stone on the desk.
"And there you see why it is such a temptation." Dumbledore said gravely. "Who would not wish for a moment to talk once again with a loved one? To spend time in their presence and ask for forgiveness…"
Sirius glanced over at Dumbledore whose gaze was once again affixed to the stone. Sirius shared a concerned look with Bertie.
"Clearly, Lawrence realised the stone was the Hallow." Bertie sighed heavily. "I should have spoken with him more when he said he needed more time to work out how to separate the stone from the ring setting."
"How is he?" asked Sirius.
"We amputated his wand arm." Bertie said succinctly. "Unfortunately, the curse is such that cutting away the dead flesh is irrelevant. He will die within a matter of weeks."
"We may be able to prolong that," Dumbledore said dragging his eyes away from the stone, "I will speak to Severus. There may be potions…"
"I'm not sure prolonging his life would be a gift." Bertie snapped.
Dumbledore blinked at Bertie. "We should offer Lawrence the choice, surely?"
Bertie nodded grimly.
"It wasn't your fault, Bertie." Sirius said firmly. "He knew the curse was on the ring and he put it on anyway."
"I'm afraid I could have fallen into the same trap as poor Lawrence. I feel blessed that until today I haven't had time to see the ring for myself." Dumbledore confessed as he transfigured one of the chairs into a chintzy armchair and sat down.
Sirius suspected Lawrence had known Dumbledore would know what the stone was and that had spurred his hasty action. "I suspect he wished to bring his daughter back."
"It's a very dangerous artefact." Bertie agreed, leaning back. "At least that damnable ring has been destroyed."
Sirius nodded. He'd watched it melt and be eaten away in the furnace. There were two possible horcruxes left: one at Hogwarts and one potentially at Godric's Hollow. "Do Bill and Caro know what's happened?"
Bertie shook his head. "They're still at Godric's Hollow trying to make the house stable enough to enter. There's a great deal of dark magic seeped into the building. They have to cleanse it before they can deal with the structural issues. And they have to do all of it working under an illusion to ensure the tourists that stop by don't realise what's happening."
"Bloody ghouls." Sirius growled. He'd been angered by the report that there was evidently a tourist trip based around Godric's Hollow and the Potters' old cottage. He was going to sue someone as soon as Brian tracked down who was behind the business.
"I'll inform them about Lawrence when they report in this evening." Bertie sighed.
Losing a team member was always hard, Sirius mused, but Lawrence had known the dangers and ignored them despite having resisted temptation for the fortnight that had passed since they'd discovered the ring.
It had been a strange couple of weeks since the death threat at Harry's birthday party, filled with the Wizengamot session – he felt a knot of guilt again at how he hadn't realised how nervous Harry had been about the whole affair but Harry had been fantastic – and more dinners and meetings than he could shake a stick at.
Ron Weasley's flying escapade with his sister had resulted in him joining Harry for etiquette and political lessons which pleased Harry no end and Sirius couldn't help but be impressed at Bill who'd sold the whole thing to his parents as punishment for Ron's transgression.
"So we're left with the question of what to do with the Hallow." Bertie said, pulling Sirius back to the present.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd want to lock it up in some musty storeroom here for further study."
"Yes, well," Bertie shifted uncomfortably, "we can only do that if we're certain the artefact isn't a family heirloom."
"Can't it be confiscated from Riddle?" Sirius demanded, confused. "I mean, we're surely not going to give him the means of bringing back the dead even if they're just shades."
"Oh, I don't mean Riddle!" Bertie said emphatically. "I don't think the Gaunts genealogically are directly related to the Peverells. Cadmus was said to have tossed the stone and himself into the river to drown. No, more likely that some other ancestor of theirs happened across the stone and set it into the ring without knowing what it was. I don't believe Riddle knew otherwise he no doubt would have tried to access its power."
"But there is one living descendent of the Peverells who has a claim on the stone." Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling with that annoying 'I know something you don't' twinkle that Sirius hated.
"Who?" asked Sirius outright, refusing to dance around and make wild guesses for the next hour.
Bertie cleared his throat. "Well, the line of Ignotus Peverell eventually renamed itself from Peverell to…"
"Potter." Dumbledore supplied with a warm smile.
"Harry." Sirius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He should have known.
"Have you never wondered about that wonderful cloak of invisibility, Sirius?" Dumbledore chided gently. "It is the Potter family heirloom and yet its charms remain strong and vibrant despite centuries of wear."
"So, Harry's cloak is the cloak?" Sirius sputtered. He'd used the cloak many times as a Marauder. Dear Merlin! "Death's cloak?"
"Well, probably in reality the first true invisibility cloak invented by Peverell himself." Bertie said cheering up a little. "I was aware the Potters' had it but Charlus refused to give it to me for study."
Sirius frowned and sat down abruptly. "That's the stone; Harry has the cloak; so where's the wand?"
"Ah, well that's the question isn't it?" Bertie asked. "There is a marvellous theory that if all three are owned by the same person then he or she becomes the Master of Death. Unfortunately the wand has a rather tricky history and was last known to be held by…"
"Alas, it was lost." Dumbledore cut in.
Sirius's eyes narrowed on the old wizard.
Bertie subsided. "Perhaps it is better to consider it lost, yes; a very good point." He sighed. "Anyway, my previous point such as it was is that the stone and the rest of the Hallows," he glanced at Albus, "if they belong to anyone, they belong to Harry."
Sirius sighed. "I will talk to Harry but my recommendation to him will be to lock the thing away in the family vault."
They all looked pensively at the stone.
"Did Lawrence see his daughter?" Dumbledore asked eventually.
Bertie shook his head. "The curse struck before he could complete turning the stone."
Dumbledore's eyes drifted back to the artefact but he nodded slowly. "Perhaps it was for the best."
Bertie picked up his wand and levitated the stone into a box. "I will lock it up here in the meantime, Sirius." He confirmed. "Let me know once you've spoken with Harry."
"Will do." Sirius got to his feet. "Please give my best to Lawrence and his family."
"And mine." Dumbledore said rising, the chair configuring back to its usual state. "I must get back to Hogwarts and make arrangements for your visit to the Chamber next week."
Sirius walked out with him. "Are you back in the country for good now?"
"I am." Dumbledore confirmed. "The last details of the Tri-Wizard Tournament have been finalised and my Summer is once again my own. It is a shame that Bartemius remains so ill."
He placed a hand on Dumbledore's arm before they exited the Ministry. He ushered Dumbledore into an alcove and raised a privacy bubble. "Albus, this stone seems to…you seem unusually interested."
Dumbledore sighed heavily and his eyes grew dim. "In my youth, I fell in love and my partner and I dreamed of uniting the Hallows; so many grand plans we weaved. My brother objected fiercely to my leaving home and a fight broke out amongst us. My sister Ariana was caught in the crossfire. We never knew which spell was the one to…"
Sirius felt his heart squeeze tight in sympathy.
"I became penitent and sought to never again give into the temptation of power. But even today…to talk with Ariana one more time…" Dumbledore sniffed and blinked back tears. "You are quite right, Sirius. I will leave the stone in Bertie's capable hands and think no more on it. I once told Harry that it does no good to dwell on dreams; I should take my own advice."
He left, taking the privacy bubble down and leaving Sirius feeling like he'd kicked a puppy. Sirius made his way to Black Manor but immediately left again for Griffin House.
Remus and Harry were in the sun room and Sirius brought them up to speed as Dobby brought them glasses of lemonade and chocolate biscuits.
"Poor Lawrence." Harry said, compassionately. "Does he have family or…"
"A sister." Remus answered. "His wife died a few years ago and his daughter…she died during the last war at the hands of Greyback, the werewolf who bit me."
Harry folded his arms and frowned. "Why haven't I heard this story of the brothers before?"
"It's a wizarding story in a popular book called 'Tales of Beedle the Bard,' Harry." Remus explained. "Most wizarding children learn to read with that book. I certainly did."
"You did have a copy in your nursery," Sirius said thoughtfully, "if Bill and Caro ever make it actually into the house at Godric's Hollow they may find it. I'm sure James gave you the Potter copy passed down through the generations."
"But once I was living with the Dursleys there was no way they'd ever allow me to have a wizarding book or hear any wizarding tales." Harry nodded. "I'm really related to this Ignotus Peverell?"
"So it seems." Sirius said.
"I'll check." Remus offered. "But if both Bertie and Albus agreed that you are his descendant…"
"It's probable that I am." Harry said with a sigh. "I'm not having my cloak locked up."
"Nobody's suggesting that." Remus soothed him while sending Sirius a questioning look that clearly said 'are you?'
"Remus is right," Sirius quickly confirmed, "your cloak is your cloak but as your parent and an ex-Marauder I wish you'd use the thing for pranks rather than getting into dangerous situations."
Harry grinned at him. "You're so cool."
Sirius happily hammed it up and preened. "Thank you."
Remus laughed at his antics. "Only you, Padfoot."
Harry's amusement faded. "But you think the stone should be locked up?"
"The stone is…" Sirius made a half-hearted gesture and his hand fell to the table, "…a temptation to drive yourself mad."
"Like Cadmus the original brother who owned it." Remus said. "He wanted to bring his love back but Death tricked him. The stone brought back her shade but not her body. He couldn't kiss her or make love with her…"
Sirius almost snickered at the bright red colour on Harry's cheeks. There was a plan to give Harry and Neville the Talk in motion. They'd certainly do it before the boys went back to Hogwarts.
"…so eventually he realised he didn't have her back at all. She was still dead and he was still alive and never shall the twain meet for good reason." Remus finished.
Harry thought about Remus's words so hard Sirius could almost see them turning over in his head. "It must be like the Mirror of Erised."
"Hmmm?" Sirius murmured confused.
"The Mirror which the Headmaster used to hide the Philosopher's stone in showed you your heart's desire," explained Harry, "I found it at the Christmas break in my first year and…and it showed me Mum and Dad. We were together as a family and happy."
Sirius reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I kept going back to look at them." Harry confessed sheepishly. "Just to look because I'd never seen them before and…it was before Hagrid gave me the album."
"What happened?" inquired Remus gently.
"The Headmaster caught me." Harry admitted. "He told me it didn't do to dwell on dreams. I guess he wanted me to focus on the present and not the past. I suppose he was right, I mean I would have stayed with the Mirror all the time if I could back then."
Sirius squeezed his shoulder.
"And…and I guess this stone is like that." Harry said, tracing a pattern on the table top idly. "If I…if I brought Mum and Dad back just to talk with them once…" he paused and ducked his head, "I don't think I could give them up again." He admitted in a pained voice.
"Me either." Sirius admitted roughly.
Remus sighed. "Me either."
They sat in silence for a long moment, all once again mourning James and Lily.
Sirius cleared his throat. "The stone stays locked up, then?"
Harry nodded jerkily. "I think I'll go up to my room and read a bit."
Or go up to his room and mope a bit, Sirius corrected in his head, not that he could blame Harry; he was probably going to do the same when he went up to bed.
He let go of Harry's shoulder and watched as Harry wandered back into the house. "Poor kid. If it's not one thing, it's another."
"You didn't have to tell him."
The rebuke was mild but it was there and Sirius glowered at Remus. "This from the man who encouraged me to risk him in getting the stone in the first place!? I won't keep secrets from him. He needs to know he's trusted to know these things and to make his own decisions."
"I don't disagree entirely," Remus began, "but sometimes I think you overestimate how much he can handle. He is only fourteen!"
"Don't you think I debate every decision I make about Harry a hundred times or more?" demanded Sirius hotly, knowing Remus had been as horrified as he had been when Dobby had let slip that Harry had thrown up the morning of the Wizengamot session.
"I know," Remus held up a hand placating Sirius, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to turn into Molly, it's just…" he hunched his shoulders as he crossed his arms tightly around himself, "sometimes I think your original idea of wrapping him in cotton wool and hiding him somewhere safe was the one to go with."
"Me too." Sirius said in a heartfelt way that made Remus snort. "Healer Allen says he's doing better."
Seeing a mind healer to help cope with the impact of the prophecy had been a very good idea. Jasper Allen was a former protégé of Noshi's and he was an excellent choice. He met with Harry and Sirius once a week and had helped them deal with some of the immediate fears: for Harry that he had to become a murderer and Sirius's that he would lose Harry and wouldn't be able to protect him.
"Harry's enjoying his art therapy." Remus said. "Some of his drawings are very good."
Sirius picked up his lemonade and took a swallow, wandlessly switching some of Remus's lemonade for the contents of a vial of potion secreted in his robes; Remus deserved it for giving him a hard time. "Do you think the Master of Death thing could be Harry's power, you know, the one the Dark Lord knows not?"
Remus paused, his own glass almost to his lips. He set it down again while he considered the question. "It's a bit convenient, isn't it?"
"It's power." Sirius commented.
"Let's pretend for a moment that it's true," Remus said, "we would need to find the Elder wand to complete the set…"
"I think Albus knows where it is." Sirius said. "Bertie has an idea. I'm sure it couldn't be that hard to track down."
"Yes," Remus said dryly, "because the Elder wand, the most powerful wand in the world which has been lost for ages, would be really easy to find if only we put our minds to it."
"Well, when you put it like that." Sirius complained.
"No, no," Remus said, "let's not throw realism over your enthusiasm, let's say we find it and Harry unites all three Hallows…what's the power?"
Sirius looked at him blankly.
"He has a cloak of invisibility," Remus listed, "which is good for hiding and that's great but he has that already. He gets a stone to bring back the dead but for what purpose? To answer questions or help him? Well, he already has the living for that and any other use of the stone will drive him mad. He gets a powerful wand but he's a fourteen year old wizard who, despite being an excellent duellist for his age, would struggle against Voldemort with his years of experience and vast range of dark spells. If Voldemort won a duel, he'd win the wand's loyalty and then where would we be? Nowhere, that's where."
"You're rambling." Sirius pointed out. "OK, look," he waved his hands to stop Remus talking, "I admit that individually each item has its uses and its disadvantages and possibly it makes no sense but if there is more to being the Master of Death, if it comes with some kind of other power…to, I don't know, call Death himself or take a life without using an Unforgiveable or blowing the bastard up…maybe it would be 'the power he knows not.'"
Remus looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I think you're nuts, Padfoot," he said finally, "but I'll investigate the wand."
"Thank you." Sirius said feeling a little vindicated.
His friend raised his lemonade in a silent toast, placed the glass against his lips and lowered it again abruptly.
"What?" asked Sirius. Remus couldn't be suspicious about the lemonade, could he? Sirius hadn't spiked any drinks for at least two weeks with pranking potion.
"Just…" Remus's face screwed up in thought for a second, "one of the origin stories for the family magic we found last week suggested that Merlin avoided one of Death's traps and when Death asked him what he wished for Merlin said that he wouldn't ask for anything in life but he would ask for something in death."
"And he asked for the family magic?" Sirius frowned.
"No, in the story Death sent Nimue who tricked Merlin into becoming a tree; always alive and never dead and thus he would never ask for his gift." Remus said. "Merlin, in a last ditch effort to save himself, cast a counter-spell to Nimue's trap. He sent his magic to the most powerful wizards and witches of the day with the condition that when a single wizard or witch united his magic once more, the tree would wither and die. At that point, he would be able to claim his gift from Death."
"Some common themes." Sirius commented. "But it's not the same is it?"
"No…just it made me think." Remus said, finally taking a sip of his lemonade.
His hair turned a nice shade of purple. Sirius kept his face straight; a reaction would give away the prank before its surprise revelation to Moony.
"I'm not sure any of the origin stories about the family magic are actually going to make sense of Harry's use of family magic." Remus mused out loud, stretching out and staring out at the garden. "I personally think his affinity for it will be the power in the prophecy. Voldemort doesn't have any family magic to draw upon although I guess we don't know if Slytherin devised something similar but his line wasn't part of the Wizarding Council at the time they became the Ancient and Noble Houses."
Sirius coughed to hide the bubble of laughter that rose up as Remus's hair turned pink.
"I take it with Albus back we're going to be able to organise getting into the Chamber of Secrets?" Remus asked.
"Finally." Sirius managed to get out as Remus's shifted to orange.
"Harry asked me this morning if Ron could come along with him." Remus said.
Sirius grimaced. "I'm sure that would go down well with Molly." Although in truth she had stopped sniping at him since the birthday party and Sirius could admit he could settle for the strange truce that had developed between them.
"It may help the cover story." Remus pointed out. "If all we're supposed to be doing is going down there to recover the basilisk and take a better look around, Harry having someone like Ron along – who did go with him on his first adventure too – would be a useful cover."
"That's rather cold of you, Remus." Sirius said, surprised. "You know better than anyone that we're not going down there to recover the basilisk but to find a horcrux and it could be very dangerous. I trust Harry with it because he was brilliant with the ring but Ron?"
"Yes, it could be dangerous but I think Harry knows that and will keep Ron from doing anything risky. Bill will be there too so Ron will have another set of eyes on him." Remus said.
"Bill will know why we're really there and do you think he's going to agree to it?" pressed Sirius, drinking deeply from his own lemonade.
"I think he will if I tell him Ron is getting very curious about what Harry is up to." Remus replied. "Harry told me that both Ron and Hermione have been trying to get him to talk since the death threat; to confide in them. He says that they know he's not telling them everything, and he understands he can't tell them about the prophecy or the treasure hunt for their protection as much as his, but he thinks if he gives them something they'll let up. I think he's struggling keeping these types of secrets from his friends when they've been the ones to help him before."
Sirius harrumphed but settled back to think about Remus's words, ignoring the blue colour of Remus's hair. "Talk to Bill and let him make the decision. If he agrees then we'll invite Hermione along as well; she's got a sensible head on her shoulders and will be able to corral Ronald."
"Good idea."
"Hopefully, it'll give them both enough to satisfy their curiosity." Sirius said with a sigh. He didn't want Harry feeling torn.
"I've noticed that you seem…conflicted about Ron's friendship with Harry." Remus said suddenly, surprising Sirius into looking at him.
"I'm…cautious about him." Sirius admitted. "He's been a good friend to Harry these past few years, I know that, but…"
"But?" prompted Remus quietly.
Sirius shifted restlessly in his chair. "Some of his behaviour reminds me…" he hesitated and plunged on, "…reminds me of Peter."
Remus frowned but he didn't jump all over Sirius for making the observation; instead he seemed to consider the idea. He sighed heavily. "If I compare Peter – the Peter we knew at school – with Ron as a student from what I saw last year at Hogwarts, I agree there are similarities. He's bright but he's a lazy student. I'm certain Minerva's end of year notes will have 'could do better' written all over them just like Peter's did. He's attached himself to Harry in much the same way Peter attached himself to James and you."
"And you." Sirius said.
"Oh no," Remus shook his head and the brilliantly red colour caught the sunlight like a corona, "Peter wanted to be seen with the most powerful and popular. He considered me an equal – a fellow follower."
"Ron has flashes of jealousy and I remember seeing them on Peter's face when James got cheered for a Quidditch win, or brought a new broom to school, or one of us did something in class quicker and faster than anyone else." Sirius said. "I didn't think anything of it back then."
"Nobody did." Remus said quietly. "But then it wasn't all Peter was back then. Sometimes I think back and I remember how he used to sneak me chocolate the day after the full moons while I was in the infirmary, and I remember how he confided in me that he knew a rat wasn't a great form but he still wanted to become an animagus to help me, and I remember how he crushed on Kirsty Sapworthy so badly that he begged me for advice." He sighed heavily. "I have a hard time reconciling that Peter with the crawling, cowardly cheat who betrayed us and killed James and Lily."
"Me too." Sirius agreed. "I loved Peter same as you and James…I trusted him absolutely and…" he folded his arms tightly as his jaw clenched in renewed anger and pain. Peter had betrayed his trust so comprehensively and it had cost Sirius so much more than years in Azkaban. He would never forgive him.
"Ron isn't Peter though." Remus continued. "Yes, there are some superficial similarities in their current nature but that's all. Is it possible you're projecting your anger and distrust at Peter onto Ron?"
Sirius tried to consider Remus's comment without simply snapping a denial. He could be right. The similarities were superficial and hadn't Ron started to come round? He'd actually made some good contributions in the political lesson that week and Andy had commented that he'd obviously been taught good manners; they just needed to be used and polished.
He sighed.
He knew he'd fallen into casting Harry's friends into roles that were associated with his own: Hermione as Remus – intelligent and sensible, Ron as Peter – lazy and sycophantic, and possibly with some wishful thinking Neville as James – loyal and brotherly…but he shouldn't. The kids were themselves, their own characters with their own foibles, and comparing them to his friends was daft. If he asked, Sirius thought wryly, Harry would probably cast Ron as James.
"You have a point," conceded Sirius, "I will endeavour to be more objective."
"One thing you might keep in mind is that Peter was an only child with only his mother, who let's face it, was sweet but a complete hypochondriac, and Ron has a very supportive family very rooted in the Light." Remus said. "From the sound of it, I think Bill's taken Ron in hand and pointed out a few things to him – he's got him into the etiquette and politics lessons, and I overheard Ron asking Harry about his Charms essay on Monday. Since both Hermione and Harry teased him about not doing his homework at the last minute like always…"
"He's trying to change." Sirius nodded slowly, remembering a conversation with Bill about Ron's place in Harry's new life. Bill would help his brother and maybe that would make all the difference and steer Ron away from what temptations had seduced Peter to Voldemort's side. "I get it."
Remus stood up, stretched and rolled his neck to ease out the cricks. "I'll go check on Harry."
Sirius nodded absently. He had some correspondence to get to that Penelope had handed to him that morning and decisions needed to be made on a few business issues Remus had highlighted earlier in the week. He set off for his study and was half-way through a letter when he heard a shriek resounding through the house…
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY HAIR IS GREEN!?"
Sirius snickered. At least Harry would be smiling again.