Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Harry felt shattered inside, as though something vital had broken into pieces that could never be whole again. Everything blurred together, so that even arriving at the Burrow with the Weasleys barely registered. Ron and Ginny kept shooting him worried looks without speaking.
"Welcome home, Harry!" Mr. Weasley's voice broke the silence, taking Harry by surprise. He managed a smile as he noticed everyone looking at him.
Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat, her gaze fixed on Harry. "We've decided you can have Percy's room as your own now, dear."
Harry stared at her, stunned. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. They couldn't be serious. "But, why? Percy—"
Mr. Weasley cut him off, saying, "Percy moved out already, Harry. He decided to live on his own and was happy to give you his room."
Without letting Harry respond, Mrs. Weasley ushered him to follow her down a narrow, zigzagging staircase upstairs.
Harry and the others followed her up to the first floor and stood outside Percy's room. Molly opened the door and let Harry inside.
"Ron gave us some ideas about how you'd like your room decorated," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling nervously as Harry looked around the room, open-mouthed in shock.
"If the Gryffindor colors are too much, just say the word, mate. We can change them," Ron quickly assured him.
Harry's eyes widened in amazement as he exclaimed, "It's perfect!" He was overwhelmed with gratitude, his throat clenching as he fought back tears. He hadn't expected this - his very own room with a bed, desk, books, and drawers. Glancing at the walls, he saw Ron had covered them with Quidditch posters.
"I wasn't sure which team you support, so I picked a few random ones," Ron explained quickly.
Grinning widely, Harry said, "Thanks, Ron." Living with the Weasleys was a dream come true. They had been like family, and he still couldn't believe it was real. He turned and hugged them, emotions swelling as he tried to convey his thanks.
"Welcome to our family, Harry!" Mr. Weasley said, choking up himself. "We've always thought of you as our own son. Having you under our roof is a responsibility we'd take on in a heartbeat. You're a good boy who deserves to be loved for a change."
"Climbing four more flights of stairs to visit my room isn't such a bother for you, right?" Ron reminded Harry, "You still have your stuff in there, by the way. Or I can switch with Ginny since her room is right next to yours."
Ginny glared at her brother. "There's no way I'm switching rooms with you!"
"Come on, Ginny," Ron pleaded, "Harry needs his best friend."
"I don't hear Harry complaining!" she retorted. Ginny smiled at Harry, who blushed. She went to her room, throwing one last glare at Ron.
That evening, Ron assisted Harry in moving all his belongings to his new room. As they carried items up and down the stairs, Ron grumbled about Ginny refusing to switch rooms, forcing him to do extra work. They managed to transfer everything before Mrs. Weasley's voice rang out, summoning them and the others for dinner. Hearing her call felt strange to Harry, since this was his first night as an official member of the Weasley household. He felt a true sense of belonging with this family, and he was deeply grateful. Before going downstairs, he stashed the library books he had hastily wrapped at Hogwarts under his bed, reminding himself to read them later before sleep.
In Harry's opinion, the dinner in the kitchen was a profoundly fulfilling experience. Mrs. Weasley demonstrated yet again her exceptional talent for cooking all kinds of food. Harry thought her skills would surely intimidate his Aunt Petunia. Surprisingly, just thinking of his relatives dampened his mood. He wondered, for a moment, where they were now before he found himself being pushed down in a chair and force-fed by Mrs. Weasley.
Ron and Ginny sat on either side of Harry, while across from them were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Harry noticed the table felt quite empty without George, who was likely busy running Weasley's Wizard Wheezes alone now that his twin, Fred, had passed away. Bill and Charlie were also absent, busy with their own lives. This gave Harry another pang of sadness as he grieved Fred's death and remembered his funeral, knowing how difficult it would be without seeing Fred with George, who often got into trouble together. One particular memory that stuck in Harry's mind was the twins bewitching snowballs to hit Professor Quirrell, unaware that they were actually pelting Voldemort's face, which made Harry chuckle internally.
The family ate in silence, savoring each dish. Though not very hungry, Harry knew better than to argue when Mrs. Weasley handed him a full plate with a look that brooked no dissent. He murmured his thanks and began eating dutifully.
It was awkward for Harry to have Ginny beside him while her family was there. He wanted to reach for her hand under the table, but held back. Instead, he shot her a quick glance, which she returned with a smile.
"So... Harry," Arthur began, chopping his steak. "Settling into your new room alright? Any plans tonight?"
Harry had intended to read more about souls, but didn't want them to know. He needed an excuse. "I thought I'd just turn in early, Mr. Weasley."
on stared at Harry in disbelief. "You slept for hours on the train, and now you want to go to bed early? What are you, eighty years old?"
"Alright, what do you think I should do instead?" Harry asked.
"I don't know, normal seventeen-year-old stuff?" Ron said mockingly.
Harry looked at Ron blankly, not following his implication. "Like what exactly?"
"Not go to bed at nine o'clock, that's for sure."
Ginny rolled her eyes at their bickering, while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley let out exasperated sighs.
"Did Hermione mention job applications to you?" Ron asked Harry suddenly between gulps of his drink.
"She might have brought it up," Harry replied wearily, his mind too preoccupied to consider employment just yet. The new information from Professor Slughorn made him even more reluctant to apply for work now.
"She's been badgering me to start putting in applications," Ron grumbled irritably. "Blimey, we just survived a war. Don't we deserve a break?"
"Yeah," said Harry, disinterested in the topic. "But you know Hermione - I'd start applying if I were you."
"What are you going to go for?" Ron asked curiously.
The career advice session with Professor McGonagall in their fifth year had been very helpful, but his current illness made that path even more unlikely now.
Ron's persistent questions were starting to annoy Harry, whose mind was clearly elsewhere.
"What are you asking me for?" Harry asked irritably.
"I thought you said you wanted to be an Auror."
"I do. So?"
"Well, I thought I'd become one too, you know," Ron responded, chewing his food.
"Then do it!" Harry said forcefully. "Don't wait for me."
Ron looked confused. "Why not?"
Harry didn't respond. He was aware he might not survive to become an Auror, and it pained him. He didn't want Ron to hold back because of him.
"Why not, Harry?" Ron asked again, oblivious to Harry's rising temper. The Weasleys stared at Ron, bewildered that he couldn't see Harry's anger growing.
"Just drop it, okay?" Harry snapped. He scooped up his plate, thanked Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and stalked off to his room.
Ron looked stunned and puzzled at the same time. He sat there with his mouth agape, eyebrows furrowed, trying to comprehend what had just transpired.
As Harry stormed up the stairs, he overheard Ron asking his parents, who had silently witnessed the scene, "What was that about? Did I say something wrong?"
"No, you were just being a prat," Ginny chided Ron. "Couldn't you give him a break?"
"But I was just asking—"
"Clearly he didn't want to talk about it, Ron," his mother cut in firmly. "Just let it go and don't bother him tonight. Let him rest."
Harry knew Ron wouldn't let this go; he would want to know why Harry got upset. Sure enough, after dinner Ron bounded upstairs and knocked on Harry's door.
"You still awake, mate?"
Silently, Harry opened the door and walked to his bed, picking up a book.
"Whatcha reading?" Ron asked, following Harry inside and sitting beside the desk.
"Nothing," Harry mumbled.
Ron mocked, "Must be nice to read nothing, huh?"
Harry set his book aside and met Ron's gaze. "What do you want?"
"Why'd you run off all upset before?" Ron asked.
"I'm fine," Harry said casually, though it sounded rehearsed. "Don't worry."
Exasperated, Ron exclaimed, "Don't give me that! You always say you're fine when you're not."
"Then stop asking stupid questions," Harry snapped.
Ron stared at him in disbelief. "What's gotten into you? You seemed fine earlier, but now you're acting like a complete jerk."
Harry heaved a weary sigh. "Nothing's wrong. I'm sorry, but I'd like to be alone right now."
"There you go again, always thinking it's best to shut everyone out," Ron retorted.
"What's wrong with asking for privacy?" Harry responded defensively. "You've done the same when you wanted to be left alone."
"Fine! Have it your way!" Ron spat bitterly before standing abruptly and storming out, slamming the door behind him.
Harry buried his face in his pillow, trying to calm himself. Ron could be quite irritating at times. Right now was not the time to provoke him. Harry understood his friend's concern but couldn't convey how desperately he wanted solitude. He was dealing with too much anxiety and pressure already.
A knock sounded at the door, and Harry sighed heavily. "What now?!" he barked from across the room, his temper finally erupting.
"Harry..." Ginny called gently.
Harry bolted upright and dashed to open the door. "I'm sorry, Ginny," he said remorsefully. "I didn't mean to shout. I assumed you were Ron." Unable to meet her gaze, he stared at the floor.
Ginny cupped his cheek, coaxing his eyes to hers. "It's alright. We heard Ron bellowing all the way in the kitchen."
Harry's face flushed with embarrassment.
"I'm worried about you," she said softly. "I wish you'd confide in me, tell me what's wrong."
He whispered, "I can't," turning away once more.
"But why? Why is it so difficult for you to open up to me?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, worry filling his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, or any of you. You're already dealing with too much, and I don't want to add to your burdens," he explained.
"When we talked the previous night, you did find something out for certain, didn't you?" she asked intensely, daring him to lie.
Harry let the silence stretch on, but he knew Ginny wouldn't drop the subject without the truth. He glanced at her and nodded, confirming her suspicions. His heart pounded.
"What is it, Harry?" Ginny asked gently, tracing the worried lines on his face, trying to soothe whatever turmoil he felt inside.
"I'm sorry," he said sadly, avoiding her gaze. "I can't tell you yet. I'm not ready to share this, and I don't expect you to understand. Hell, I hardly understand it myself. But this isn't the right time."
Ginny looked disappointed, but she took his hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "Whenever you're ready, I'm here," she said softly. With that, she turned and slowly walked back to her room, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.
Harry awoke early the next morning, eager to make breakfast for the Weasleys. He felt like part of the family now, and wanted to show his gratitude for taking him in. His poor attitude the previous night had been inexcusable, and he hoped this would help make amends.
Entering the kitchen, Harry was greeted by the sight of mismatched, colorful chairs surrounding a large wooden table. While several magical cookbooks were neatly stacked atop the mantel, Harry didn't need them. Cooking breakfast had been one of his chores with the Dursleys.
Gathering ingredients, he placed a pan on the stove and started frying eggs, hoping Mrs. Weasley wouldn't mind him using her kitchen.
By the time Mrs. Weasley entered, Harry had already set the table with plates and goblets laden with a variety of breakfast foods and drinks.
Stopping short, Mrs. Weasley looked around wide-eyed until she spotted Harry scrubbing the sink. "Harry?"
Harry turned to face her and cheerfully greeted, "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley!"
She was rendered speechless. Never before had someone done something so thoughtful.
"Did you make all this yourself?" she asked incredulously, gazing at the laden table.
Harry nodded apprehensively. "I didn't mean to take over your kitchen, I just wanted to—" But before he could finish, she had already wrapped him in a grateful embrace.
"How kind of you, dear," she said between hugs. "Thank you!"
Just then, Mr. Weasley walked into the kitchen wearing flowing green robes. He stopped short and blinked in surprise at the scene of Molly and Harry.
"Look what Harry's done, Arthur!" Molly excitedly presented the lavish breakfast spread on the table.
Mr. Weasley remarked, "I'm impressed, Harry! Not many young men would wake up early and do what you did." Harry beamed as Mr. Weasley sat at the kitchen table.
"Living with the Dursleys, I got used to it, Mr. Weasley," Harry explained.
Mrs. Weasley said in her sweet, motherly voice, "You have talent, that I'm sure of." She added, "Now, sit down while I call Ron and Ginny."
A few minutes later, Ron shuffled downstairs, yawning widely. Seeing Harry helping himself to pancakes, Ron lowered his head to avoid eye contact as he sat beside him. Staring at the spread, Ron asked his mother, "What's the occasion? Are we celebrating something?"
"No, dear. Harry made all this food this morning."
Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry but looked away quickly before Harry could meet his gaze. Remaining silent, Ron settled down with some bacon, eggs and a muffin and began eating. Harry felt certain that Ron was still upset about their argument last night.
"Oh, George will come by for dinner in two days," Mrs. Weasley told them.
"Will he be staying for a while?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"I hope so," she said wistfully. "But you know George - he's been so busy managing the shop lately. He doesn't have time for much else now."
Mr. Weasley squeezed her shoulders gently. "Without the shop to distract him, he'd probably lose himself dwelling on his twin all the time. I remember when he was at his worst. He was deeply depressed for days and no words could comfort him. He only started to recover when he began visiting the shop again. Focusing on making Fred proud as he managed the shop alone helped him move forward despite the grief."
Molly nodded in understanding. She and the rest of the family ate breakfast quietly.
Arthur had already left for work and Molly was outside feeding the chickens when Ginny descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. Though sleepy-eyed with her hair pinned up, she looked lovely in her pyjamas. But when she slid into the chair across from Harry, her usually cheerful face seemed downcast. Had their quarrel the night before upset her?
Forgetting their disagreement, Harry turned to Ron and asked, "Could I borrow Pigwidgeon today to send a letter?"
Ron frowned over his breakfast. "To who?" he demanded gruffly.
"To someone," Harry said evasively, wondering at Ron's persistent questions.
Ron cast Harry a dark, annoyed look and rolled his eyes. "Right," he muttered sarcastically before turning his attention back to his food, clearly dismissing the conversation.
"So...is that a 'yes' then?" Harry asked uncertainly, confused by Ron's vague response.
"No," Ron stated flatly.
"Why not?" Harry pressed.
Ron glared at Harry in irritation. "Because I said 'no'," he snapped.
Ginny shot Ron a nasty look, which he completely ignored.
Harry sighed in frustration, knowing from experience not to push Ron further when he got like this. He had learned before that annoying Ron would only make him more stubborn and vindictive, refusing to help and making things worse. Ron could certainly hold a grudge indefinitely unless Harry made the first move to reconcile, which he refused to do this time. Harry was tired of Ron's immature behavior and unwillingness to grow up.
"Ron, listen," Harry began, but Ron cut him off angrily, his ears flushing red. "I know what you're trying to do. You think I'm stupid, but I'm not!"
Harry's temper flared in response. "It's none of your business what I do!"
"Like hell it isn't!" Ron shot back.
"Give him a break, Ron!" Ginny interjected sharply, glaring daggers at her brother.
"No, he needs to know that hiding things hurts people. Believe me, Ginny, it's not good!" Ron insisted.
"I'm sure Harry has his reasons for not telling you," Ginny argued desperately, though deep down she had to agree with Ron.
Ron scoffed derisively. "Oh yeah, like he doesn't trust us!" His words pierced Harry like scalding knives.
Harry sat motionless, his head bowed as he stared at his nearly empty plate. A knot formed in his stomach and sadness washed over him as he told himself, I trust them. I trust them so much that I don't want to hurt them.
Unable to endure Harry's silence any longer, Ron slammed his fist on the table in frustration. He pushed his chair back forcefully and stormed out of the kitchen.
The tension between Harry and Ron did not abate over the next two days. Ron remained stubbornly defiant while Harry secluded himself in his room after making them breakfast each morning. He contemplated getting a new owl, but the mere thought pained him deeply. He missed Hedwig terribly. She had been his sole constant companion and he felt they shared a profound bond. The idea of replacing her now seemed pointless when he knew his own time was short.
Oddly enough, he hadn't experienced any chest pains recently. He felt completely healthy. Usually, burning sensations would flare up inside him twice a day for a few minutes. Perhaps what he had felt before was not necessarily about his tainted soul. It may have just been a fluke or misguided notion that caused him to become worked up over nothing. The library books he had borrowed were not helping to assuage his paranoia. There were no mentions of healing charms or potions for the soul; it simply described the importance of having one, along with some philosophical perspectives on their meaning. He desperately needed to speak with Professor Slughorn again, but had no choice except to wait for Ron to calm down.
Ginny was also quiet most of the time as she assisted her mother with chores. She couldn't help but wonder how long she would have to wait for Harry to open up. She didn't want to start nagging him if it would only lead to an argument. She hoped to avoid that if possible. But as days passed, she was beginning to feel that perhaps Ron was right. Maybe Harry really was having difficulty fully trusting them. She didn't want to give in to that notion, of course, but it was starting to take hold in her mind.
The day of George Weasley's visit arrived earlier than Molly had anticipated, much to her delight. When George stepped out of the kitchen fireplace that afternoon, Molly embraced her son tightly, giving him a thorough once-over. "How's my handsome boy?" she asked.
Though solemnity clouded his freckled face, he quickly plastered on an enormous grin. "I'm as well as ever, mum," he replied.
Molly beamed. "Your dad will be home soon. Anything you'd like for dinner?"
George shook his head. "No, anything is fine," he said.
She squeezed his shoulder and went to prepare for dinner.
Meanwhile, George spotted Harry sipping tea.
"George," Harry said, setting down his teacup and going over to give him a brotherly hug. "It's good to see you. How are you holding up?"
"I'm alright," George replied as Harry settled back into his chair. "What about you?"
"I'm okay, I guess," he said. "How are things at the shop?"
"Still very busy," George told him. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."
Harry could detect a glimmer of sadness in George's eyes.
"Are you getting settled in alright in Percy's old room, Harry?" George asked curiously.
"Yeah, everything's great," Harry replied.
George smiled with satisfaction and nodded at Harry, reminiscing fondly, "I remember when Fred and I turned Percy's bedroom walls bright pink because he refused to stop blushing whenever his first girlfriend was mentioned."
Harry chuckled at the memory.
"It irritated Percy so much that he never spoke of that relationship again. Of course, Fred and I were devastated, so we changed his walls to an even brighter, raging pink to match his frustration," George said with a proud grin.
Harry laughed again.
"Those kinds of pranks really make life more fun, you know? Annoying for Percy, but who cares? We certainly enjoyed it," George declared.
The mention of Percy made Harry wonder how he was doing. The last time he had seen Percy was at the Battle of Hogwarts over two weeks ago. "Have you spoken with Percy recently?" Harry asked.
George stated matter-of-factly, "Yes, I was the one who suggested he give his room to you, or else I would revert it back to its former pink décor."
"And he simply complied?"
"I anticipated he would resist, giving me reason to bewitch his room once more. But he acquiesced without protest, like an obedient pup. He claimed it was time he moved out and embarked on his so-called new life. When Cornelius Fudge resigned as Minister, he opted to return and work for the Ministry..."
"Kingsley Shacklebolt replaced Fudge as the acting Minister for Magic," George said knowingly. "I was glad when the wizarding community voted for someone worthy to be the next Minister."
Just then, Mr. Weasley arrived home, beaming when he saw George."Son!" he exclaimed, embracing George in a warm hug. "It's wonderful to see you!"
"Me too, Dad."
Ron bounded down the stairs, hearing George's voice echo from the kitchen. "George!" He rushed in delightedly to hug his brother. "We didn't expect you until dinner!"
"I missed my Ickle Ronnie-kins," George said, ruffling Ron's hair. "You're as tall as me now." He shook his head affectionately.
They sat chatting until Molly called to say that dinner was ready. The hearty meal was enjoyed by all, except Ron, who scowled at Harry, and Harry, who was silent. George thought their behavior odd, but Ginny seemed to understand.
After everyone finished eating, Molly looked at George hopefully and asked, "Are you staying longer, dear?"
"Just for tonight," George replied. "Then I have to leave early tomorrow morning."
"Wonderful," Molly said with a sweet smile. "I've already put fresh sheets on your bed."
"Thanks, Mum," George said.
The night crawled by as Harry stared blankly out his window. A knock at the door jarred him from his reverie. He opened it to find George, butterbeers in hand.
"Fancy a drink in my secret sanctuary?" George asked. "I brought enough to share with Ron too."
"I'll join you," Harry said, "but Ron won't. We had a bit of a falling out."
Seeing Harry's glum expression, George raised his eyebrows. "Trouble in paradise, eh?"
Harry's silence told George everything he needed to know.
"Well, it can't be that bad," George said consolingly. "Maybe a long talk would help. What do you think?""That's just it...I was trying to avoid that," Harry admitted."Why's that?" George asked. Harry just stared back blankly."Come on then," George coaxed, nudging Harry. "Let's chat a bit, shall we?"
To be continued...
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Khauro
Khauro My one-shot Draco Malfoy story called "Troubled Mind" is now posted. Do check it out!
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