Authors Note: I'm not trying to portray Mr and Mrs Weasley as stupid. I'm trying to portray them as fanatical. Let me know how I'm doing.

I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKR

Reality of a Hero

Chapter 8: Mayhem at the Ministry

Mr Weasley woke them after only a few hours sleep and once they were all dressed and standing groggily outside the tents, he used magic to pack them up and they left the half empty camp site as quickly as they could. Mr Roberts, standing as the door of his cottage, once again waved them off with a vague "Merry Christmas." For the first time since he returned to the past, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He could have done something about this. He could have told Tia earlier or even Dumbledore… maybe he was being too hard on Dumbledore… Wasn't he doing the same thing that he had always condemned the old man for: Withholding information that could save lives?

Shaking his head slightly to get rid of the thoughts, he wondered where they had come from as they walked. Hermione had been wrong; he hadn't been punishing the world because Dumbledore was dead. He honestly had been disgusted by the wizarding world's corruption and had long ago come to the conclusion that the Statue of Secrecy had nothing to do with protecting witches and wizards from muggles and everything to do with making sure that the muggle governments never got to look too closely at how the wizarding world was run. He had never tried to do anything about it because quite frankly, he felt the wizarding world deserved it.

The thoughts that had been running through his head before were the thoughts he would have expected from the real fourteen year old Harry Potter. He knew too much about the world to let himself fall into that way of thinking, so why were they bothering him? Dumbledore was far more likely to memory charm him and sent him back to the Dursleys then listen to him, so why was he defending him?

His attention was pulled back when the gentle roar of a large crowd broke his train of thought and they pushed through to reach Basil who was standing with his friend from the day before, He of The Kilt and The Poncho.

A quick discussion later and they joined the end of the queue and were soon taking a rubber tyre back to Stoutshead Hill, this time without the Diggorys. As they stood waiting for the portkey, Harry spotted two of the War Mages from the previous night, one of them was wearing a short sleeved robe and a black leather cuff on his wrist caught the light, the silver inlay flickering. No acknowledgement was given beyond meeting his eyes for a moment. I see you. I see you too. I know you. I know you too. It was all the acknowledgement he expected. It was the War Mage way. The portkey activated and they were whisked away by what felt like a hook behind their navels and Harry felt unaccountably better. He wasn't alone. He wouldn't be abandoned this time. It was the War Mage way.

They walked back to the burrow in the dawn light, a strange reluctance to speak hanging over them. Hermione kept shooting him strange looks and Fred was walking just close enough to brush his hand every few steps. Ahead of them Charlie and Bill were playing some game that seemed to involve trying to push the other without actually touching them, only their bags, but it was half hearted as exhaustion had settled over them like a cloud. As they rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the damp lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" Mrs Weasley had been waiting for them in the garden and she came towards them, her face pale and strained and a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand. "Arthur, I've been so worried… so worried." She practically screamed.

She threw her arms around his neck and let the Daily Prophet fall from her hand. Harry stepped forward and scooped it up before anyone could see the headline.

"You're all right." Mrs Weasley muttered before releasing him and turning to the others. Resigned to it, Harry let her hug him, telling her he was alright and she quickly moved onto the others. Harry handed the paper to Mr Weasley once she was passed him and fought not to roll his eyes. How it could be any surprise to anyone that she had ended up addicted to calming potion was a mystery to him.

Mr Weasley handed the paper to Bill with a meaningful look and turned to his distraught wife who was clutching the twins to her bemoaning her treatment of them the day before they left. The twins looked resigned; they knew better then to fight their mother when she was like this. Molly Victoria Weasley could go from distraught to spitting mad in .03 of a second.

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly OK." He said soothingly, prising her off of the twins and leading her back towards the house.

When they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen; and Hermione had made Mrs Weasley a cup of tea and Mr Weasley had poured four fingers of firewhiskey into it before the younger girl gave it to her, Bill handed his father back the paper. Mr Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder, "I knew it, "he sighed, "Ministry blunders… lax security… Dark Wizards running unchecked… War Mages forced to take action… National disgrace…Who wrote this? Ah… of course… Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" Percy began to rant furiously, "Last week she was saying that we were wasting our time arguing about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans…"

"Do us a favour, Perce" Bill broke in before he could get up too much steam, "and shut up."

"I'm mentioned." Mr Weasley didn't sound too happy about it.

"Where?" spluttered Mrs Weasley, choking on her tea laced whiskey, "If I had seen that, at least I would have known you were alive!"

"Not by name…"

Harry's attention wandered at that point as Mr Weasley read out the articule. The only real difference this time round was the active participation of the War Mages. The first time, they had chosen to act with the aurors and Unspeakables already there as security, rather then independently. His attention was brought back suddenly when Percy stated that he would go into work with his father and Mrs Weasley promptly got upset.

"Alright if I dump my stuff in your room, Ron?" Harry asked suddenly with a meaningful look at the redhead and Hermione.

"Yeah… think I will too, Hermione?" Ron asked.

She agreed and they left quickly.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron asked as he dumped his bag onto the floor.

"I know what Percy's been trying to get you to ask about and it isn't an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons."

"What is it then?"

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament is being held at Hogwarts this year."

"What? Hermione yelped, "I've never heard of it."

"It's a tournament between Durmstrang, Beaubatons and Hogwarts that used to be held every five years. Then the death toll got too high and it was stopped." Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore has managed to persuade the other two schools into agreeing to it. Bagman told me."

"Harry" Hermione said suddenly, her voice harsh, "What were you doing last night?"

He sighed, running a hand down the plait until it reached his collar, "I can't tell you Hermione."

"Why not? We're your best friends!" she snapped.

"Because it's classified. You do know what that means, don't you?" he snapped right back at her.

"But…"

"No, Hermione. I can't talk about it with anyone outside the organisation I was working with."

She nodded once, sharply, "Then how do we join it?"

He sighed again, "You don't. It's invite only."

Her eyes widened, "The War Mages… Harry! You're only fourteen and you're still in school! How can you know enough to be invited to join them? Even I…" there was real anger in her voice now, but the she stopped herself, either realising what she was about to say or too angry to continue and Harry sighed; once again he was being blamed for Hermione's failure to get what she believed she disserved to get first.

"Evidently I knew enough for them. Drop it Hermione!" he snarled when she opened her mouth to protest.

Ron just looked back and forth between them carefully keeping his emotions in check, "Look mate," he held up his hands in peace when Harry spun to face him, his eyes blazing, "Mum is going to throw a fit, you know right?" His voice sounded disturbingly satisfied.

Before Harry could say anything a yell came from downstairs;

"HARRY! GET DOWN HERE!"

"Yeah, "he sighed, "I know."

When Harry got down the stairs, flanked by a fuming Hermione and a still-holding-his-emotions-in-check Ron, he found Bill, Charlie and an almost shaking Mrs Weasley standing in the kitchen. Leaning casually against the wall beside the door was a man Harry didn't recognise, though he was wearing the War Mage uniform and had held a black cuff in his hand.

He pushed himself away when Harry stepped into the room, he held out his hand, "Mr Potter? Abe Canfield. The Leader sent me to get you. Wants to talk about last night."

"Oh, Harry, child! Why didn't you tell me you had gotten involved? Are you alright? St Mungo…" Mrs Weasley rushed over to him, running the wand over him and muttering about healers and St Mungo's and helpless children. Harry gently pushed her away, smiling, partly in relief, "It's alright, Mrs Weasley, I wasn't hurt. I wasn't involved in the fighting, don't worry."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry over nothing."

Whatever Mrs Weasley was about to say was cut off when the War Mage stepped forward, "We need to leave Mr Potter."

Harry nodded and reached over to touch the leather cuff that Canfield had closed around wrist while Harry was blocking everyone's view of him and then they were gone.

The portkey dropped them into a circular room that was both very familiar and spinning rather quickly. Canfield tapped the wrist cuff with his wand and stated his name clearly and the room stopped with a door to their left glowing softly.

Through the door was an open plan office filled with people. Desks were piled high with open and closed files and sheets of parchment. Guns, daggers and the odd potion bottle were being used as a paper weights. Tia was standing in the middle of the room talking to another man that Harry didn't recognise. She nodded to him and motioned him over, "Harry, this is Anthony Disraeli, the Director of the Department of Mysteries."

"Director" Harry nodded and he looked the man over. He was easily as tall as Bill Weasley with blue black hair and a pale, tired face. His blue eyes twinkled though and Harry suddenly felt uneasily reminded of Dumbledore.

"I must say Mr Potter, because of you I have had one of the most traumatic mornings of my time as director. Also one of the most enjoyable." He added with a smile, "I have had one Albus Dumbledore demanding that you be removed from the War Mages, that Hypatia be arrested and that the War Mages be placed directly under his control immediately."

"He found out quickly." Harry said.

"I suggest we enter the Circle, Anthony." Tia said, "And let the War Mages get back to work."

"Of course, of course."

The room was, as the name suggested, circular and built like an amphitheatre. Looking around it, Harry couldn't help but wonder why they weren't in Tia's office. They walked down the steps towards the centre where a table and three chairs had been placed and Harry absently ran a hand over the rows of seats as they passed them on the way down. It hadn't really been that long since he had last been here since he had always made a point to make the monthly War Mage meetings in the future. Suddenly, it dawned on him that Hermione hadn't known he was a War Mage in the future. She hadn't known that he hadn't abandoned the wizarding world completely. Frowning slightly at the thought and the guilt that washed through him, he pushed it away. Now wasn't the time to worry about what Hermione knew or didn't know in the future.

They took the three seats and Tia quickly set a diction quill onto a piece of paper, "Alright, War Mage Potter. Report."

With a small smile, he did, telling them exactly what had happened from his point of view in the battle.

Tia and Disraeli asked a few questions at the end and Harry responded with short clipped answers. They were his commanders and they wanted information, not explanations.

When they were finished, Tia pulled a sheet of papers from inside her robe and put it on the table, "We haven't been monitoring this directly. Rather we just got lucky on one of the Unspeakables general sweeps. Given both Dumbledore and Fudge's reactions to yesterday's events and to the increasing evidence that Voldemort is not as dead as we would like to believe, I feel this has to be dealt with. The minister is an idiot, but Dumbledore is a true believer. I'm not sure which of them will do the most damage in the long run.

"Anyway, back to the point. At 7.15am this morning, Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office along with his son, Percy Weasley of the Department for International Magical Co-operation flooed to the ministry. He was here for ten minutes and then he flooed to Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Thirty minutes later, he returned to the atrium with Albus Dumbledore and returned to his office. Dumbledore then went to see you Anthony, correct?"

He nodded.

"I think it's safe to assume that Weasley told Dumbledore what happened at the World Cup."

Disraeli nodded and pulled the sheet over to him "And you, War Mage Potter were his main objective. Not finding out what information we had. Hypatia tells me you know the prophecy." He rubbed his chin. "How do you feel about this, War Mage?"

Harry leaned back, taking his glasses and putting them onto the table, "My destiny is laid out before me. I have to fight. I believe Dumbledore intends to use me as a figure head –slash – secret weapon and then sacrifice me for his 'greater good'. After all, the hero can't disappoint the masses can he?"

Tia nodded, "I agree."

"Family doesn't mean much to you, does it Hypatia?" Disraeli said.

"That man isn't my family."

FWHPGW

It was nearly half ten and the Burrow was quiet when Harry appeared at the Apparition point with an almost soundless pop, his licence in his pocket. Also in his pocket was a leather cuff identical to the one Abe Cranfield had been wearing and an official document giving him permission to use magic outside school. It was more of a relief then he cared to admit. He was good with intent magic and he was one of the most powerful users of that type of magic in the world, but both he and Tia knew it was only a matter of time before the side effects started. It was something neither of them had been looking forward to explaining.

Nothing had really been decided at his debriefing, not that he had really been expecting it to. He had never ranked high enough in the War Mages to have been invited to the strategy and information meetings that didn't directly involve him and once the Voldemort issue had been dealt with, he had been content to return to the rank and file. Tia didn't want to expose him to too much scrutiny yet, not out of a misplaced desire to keep him safe or because of his age, but simply because at present he wouldn't do much good. He was glad to have his desk back though; since he could now dump things there he didn't really want to explain to Dumbledore.

Other then that, Disraeli wasn't going to try to kick him out of the War Mages, not that he actually could. Only the War Leader had that authority, Dumbledore apparently didn't know that little titbit. They had decided they would continue to monitor the old man's actions and begin an investigation into Arthur Weasley's loyalty. It wasn't what Harry had wanted, but there was nothing he could do. Mr Weasley's own actions had damned him. Tia had also informed them that Lucius Malfoy had been less then a minute behind Weasley and had made a beeline for the minister. Their relationship was also under scrutiny. Harry was rather amused that all Fudge's attempts to keep the War mages otherwise engaged were now coming back to haunt him.

In the original timeline, Fudge had died before the War Mages had got involved, having ordered the War Mages not to investigate the return of Voldemort. While no order otherwise had more then once been interpreted by the War Mages as permission, they couldn't actually go against a direct order from the Director of the Department of Mysteries, even when said Director was a crony of Fudge put in place at the first sign of interest from them. Harry had warned Disraeli not to stand too firm against the minister if he wanted to keep his job.

After Disraeli had left, he had given Tia all the information she had asked for and in return discovered that Tia had been investigating Sirius' situation and wasn't happy with what she had found. He had been on the short list of people who were to be invited into the War Mages when the events of Halloween 1981 occurred. The little morsel that Sirius was never tried had certainly not made it back to the War Mages.

The Weasley family were gathered in the living when he got in and they looked up, in relief and annoyance when he came in.

"Harry…" Hermione immediately started.

"No, Hermione." He held up his hand, "I was in a debriefing for most of it. Then there was a strategy meeting. That's all I can tell you."

"We're your best fri…"

"Hermione" Mrs Weasley said softly, "If it's classified, he can't talk about it. Did a healer look you over, dear?"

Slightly surprised, Harry answered in the affirmative before thinking about it. The healer had also given him a few other things as well. He planned to try them night, "I'm really tired. I'm going to bed."

"Alright dear."

Hermione looked somewhat mutinous as he left the room, but went back to her chess game with Ron.

Standing in the bathroom after changing into his pyjamas, Harry stared at the mirror, holding a bottle of potion in his hand. He downed it in one go, and then turned his attention to the other three bottles lined up on the sink. Quickly and decisively, he downed the next two, making a face at the taste, and then he picked up the third and looked at it. He opened it and slowly he poured it into his hands and rubbed it into his skin, using a spell to make sure he covered his back completely. Then he rinsed the bottles and cast a charm on his eyes to make them red and swollen. Taking off his glasses, he folded them on the side of the sink and looked at himself once more in the mirror, tempted to let the glamour fade, but then changed his mind and made his way back to Ron's room and then into bed, leaving the letter to Mrs Weasley on the locker beside him. He cast three spells in rapid succession and fell into an uneasy sleep.

When Hermione Granger woke the next morning, there was only one thought on her mind. Get Harry to talk. She didn't know what was going on with him this summer, but she didn't like it. Hermione Granger was a smart girl and she understood that he couldn't tell her much, but surely, surely he could tell her something! Like why he had been invited and she hadn't? Hermione was intelligent enough to realise that part of her newly formed obsession was jealousy. The War Mages were terribly difficult to get into and unless it was his fame, Harry had far less to offer them then she did. Another part of it was worry, there was no way that Harry could take care of himself without her there. He needed someone there to make sure he actually did… whatever it was he was meant to be doing.

The Mrs Weasley screamed, "HARRY!"

Whatever Hermione had been expecting to happen today this wasn't it. Harry was levitating about half a foot off of his bed in Ron's room. Ron, she noticed absently, was sitting on his bed with a strange expression of his face as he watched his mate.

Harry was levitating and he was unconscious. He was also surrounded by a pale blue light that zapped anyone who tried to touch it. Mrs Weasley was staring at him, tears in her eyes and one of her hands till smoking slightly. Hermione turned her attention back to Harry, trying to see through the blue glow. He seemed to be in pain going of the grimace on his face and his eyes were red and swollen. Wringing her hands she looked around, trying to think of something to help. And she saw the letter.

Twenty minutes later there was no change. Mrs Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny, Ron and Hermione sat around the Boy Who Lived staring wordlessly at him. Every now and then the blue light would intensify at some point on his body and he would shimmer slightly and shift and then everything would go back to the way it had been before. Hermione clutched the letter Harry had written to Mrs Weasley in her hand, the words going round and round in her head

'Mrs Weasley,

I know that you are probably very worried about me at the moment, but I assure you I am alright. I told you I had been checked over by a mediwitch while I was at the Ministry. She told me that there was a way of undoing the damage done to me over the years by the Dursleys.

I didn't tell you what I planned I didn't want to have to argue about it. I decided that this way was easier all around.

I should wake up tomorrow morning. I'm sorry for worrying you.

Harry'

GWFWHP

It was a testament to how busy the Ministry was that neither Mr Weasley nor Percy noticed that Harry was missing that day, Mrs Weasley had told them that the children had already gone to bed when they got back.

The next day, Harry woke up to find Ron, Fred and George asleep around him as the spells finally finished and he dropped rather sharply onto his bed. He ached everywhere and his eyes stung. Climbing as quietly as he could out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom, locking the door after him to make sure he had privacy. Turning to face the mirror, he cancelled the glamour.

Tracing his fingers over the eagle tattoo, he shivered slightly. He missed them, missed seeing them, the tattoos had been so much a part of him for so long… He turned slightly to he could see the Gemini sign on his back. It had been an inside joke between the three of them. The body under the tattoos had filled out a little, not much, but a little and he had gained a couple of inches of height as well. Maybe this time he would actually make it to the average height for a male in England. Rinsing his eyes off, he looked closely at them and grinned. No doubt Mrs Weasley would cast an anti-swelling spell charm on him the moment she seen him. It would work as well as a finite incantatem. He untied his hair and brushed his fingers through it before stepping into the shower.

Half an hour later he recast the glamour and, wrapping a towel around his waist, left the bathroom with his hair falling loose down his back in a black wave.

Fred was just stirring when he opened the door and stepped in. "Harry?"

"Hi Fred."

"You're alright?" he asked, climbing into a kneeling position and motioning Harry over to him. The movement woke George who blinked blearily at Harry, "You're awake!"

Grinning, he looked at them and then checked Ron. He was still sleeping soundly. Harry looked from one to the other of the twins, then at his friend again. He hesitated for only a moment before pulling his wand out and casting a sleeping charm on Ron and a locking charm on the door. Then he stepped forward so that Fred could reach him.

George climbed to his feet behind him, both poking him lightly, "You're really alight?"

"Better then I've been since I was a year old. Didn't your mum tell you what was in the letter?" he asked as George lifted his hair up so he could touch his back.

"Yeah but…" Fred cut off as his trailing finger caught something he couldn't see, "Harry?"

"Want to see what I really look like?"

"Yes…" George hissed behind him as he watched Fred's finger play with something he couldn't see.

Harry dropped the glamour.

"Oh…" George said, stepping back so he could see the tattoos.

Fred didn't say anything, simply drinking in the younger boy, his finger trailing down over the soft skin until the reached the towel.

"May I?"

For a moment, Harry hesitated, the knowledge of his current age at the forefront of his mind, but this was Fred and George. And it had been so long… he hadn't had a drink, or a fuck or anything since he came back in time, not even a hand job… The cravings that he had been ignoring hit him hard in the chest and he didn't even realise he had agreed until he felt the towel hit his feet.

He sprawled in the comfort of Fred's arms, lazing zigzagging a finger across George's side and enjoying the little tremors it caused. George was more ticklish then his twin. He body felt heavy, almost sedated. It was a feeling he hadn't experience since before the explosion that claimed the twins lives. That thought made him tense and Fred made a sleepy noise behind him, "We should probably move. It won't be long before your mum wakes up."

"I suppose so." George caught his hand as he made to pull away, "We're going to have to talk about this."

"How are those exercises coming along?"

"We can hold them…"

"For a few minutes each."

"Good, then you can move onto the next stage. Do you want to do this again?"

The twins shared a look, and then turned to him, "Yes."

"Then lets keep it casual for now, okay? No commitments, no demands and when your occulmuncy is up to scratch, we'll sit down and talk again."

"Alright, Harry."

They had just finished getting cleaned up when Mrs Weasley knocked on the door, "Boys?"

"Hold on a sec." Fred called as he finished pulling on his jeans as Harry cancelled the charm on Ron and recast his glamour. The three boys shared a grin as Ron sleepily asked what was going on.

Mrs Weasley cooked a huge breakfast to celebrate Harry being awake and alright, though she yelled at him and then hugged him when she got into the room. Hermione had been more subdued then usual, though Harry was too busy dodging questions to be sure why. That evening when Mr Weasley and Percy come home, he explained as much as he could. The mediwitch had mentioned the process, which was a small ritual and some potions, explaining that they were an altered version of those given to coma patients to help stop muscle degradation. They weren't in general use because there was so little call for them and had been primarily developed for muggle-borns. Abused wizarding-world raised children seldom showed the physical scars. It had been somewhat of a relief to learn that Dumbledore hadn't hidden the process from him on purpose. She had done all the prep work with him before he left so all he had to do was down the potions and recite the activation spells. Ironically, he had also got his 'miracle', claiming that obviously he hadn't inherited bad eye-sight off of his father, but it was from the Dursleys abuse.

Mr Weasley and Percy didn't appear too bothered by it, though both were showing signs of exhaustion. Everyone had been surprised to discover that Harry had been mistreated badly enough for anything to need to be done to offset the damage and Mrs Weasley could be heard muttering about useless guardians. Harry noted that not once, was her ire targeted at Dumbledore.

It was Sunday night and they would leave for Hogwarts the next day. Ginny was lying before the fire, fixing a school book, Mrs Weasley as trying to knit while watching the family clock. Fred and George were in a corner, quietly discussing something. Bill was playing chess with Ron and Charlie was mending a fire-proof balaclava. Harry was polishing his broomstick and thinking.

"You're father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-know-Who." Mrs Weasley sighed suddenly, "They're working him far too hard. His dinner is going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

"Well Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he? If truth be told, he was tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first…"

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote! Mrs Weasley snapped back.

Harry turned out the argument, remembered all to well how easily Mrs Weasley believed what Skeeter wrote about Hermione. Maybe it was just because Hermione was a girl, so it was alright. Even at twenty-eight, he hadn't understood girls. Thinking of the article about Hermione made him think about the Triwizard Competition and he hastily constructed plan to deal with it. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it. He didn't want to compete. At the same time, as he had told Tia, it was the easiest way for Voldemort to get his body back. According to Tia, they had almost all the horcuxi gathered, so when Voldemort revivied himself, only his new body would stand between him and death…

"His slave you mean! Hermione's shriek broke him out of daydreams of a post-Voldemort world, "Because he didn't pay Winky, did he?"

"I think you had all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!" Mrs Weasley said sharply.

Packing up, he headed upstairs with Ron. There was no way he would admit it, but he was tired. The ritual had taken more energy then he could admit to Mrs Weasley without being sent to St Mungos.

When they got to their room, Pigwidgeon began tittering and zooming around his cage like a… Harry wasn't sure there was anything to compare the little thing with.

"Bung him come owl treats" Ron said throwing him a packet, "it might shut him up."

Nodding, Harry pushed some treats through the bars and glanced at Hedwig's empty cage. He had let her out earlier to she could fly ahead to Hogwarts.

"Here's the stuff mum got you in Diagon Alley. And she got some gold out of your vault for you… and she washed all your socks."

He heaved a pile of parcels onto Harry's bed and he started opening them. It felt strange to not be worrying about Sirius right now. He remembered being almost in a panic. He was nearly finished packing the first lot away when Ron made a disgusted sound behind him.

"What is that supposed to be?" he said, holding up the dress robes Harry remembered from his forth year. He suppressed a snigger through shear force of will.

Just then, Mrs Weasley knocked on the door and came in holding a load of Hogwarts robes, "Here you are. Now, mind you pack them properly so they don't crease."

"Mum, you've given me Ginny's new dress." Ron said holding it out to her.

"Of course I haven't. That's for you, dress robes."

"What?" Ron looked horrified.

"Dress robes. It says on your school list that you're supposed to have dress robes this year… robes for formal occasions."

Ron looked at her in disbelief, "You've got to be kidding! I'm not wearing that, now way!"

"Everyone wears them, Ron. They're all like that! Your father's got some for smart parties!" Mrs Weasley snapped crossly.

"I'll go starkers before I put that on!"

"Don't be silly, you've got to have dress robes, they're on your list. I got some for Harry too, show him, Harry…" Mrs Weasley was definitely loosing her temper.

He opened the last parcel without saying a word and pulled out he familiar bottle green dress robes and held them up for Ron to see.

"I thought that they'd bring out the colour of your eyes, dear".

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley."

"Well, they're OK!" Ron snarled, "Why couldn't I have some like that?"

"Because… well…" Mrs Weasley seemed to deflate, "I had to get yours second hand and there wasn't much choice."

"I'm never wearing them!" Ron stated, "Never."

"Fine!" Mrs Weasley's temper boiled back up, "Go naked. And Harry, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. Both boys stared after her for a moment and then turned at the strange spluttering noise behind them. Pig was choking on an owl treat.

"Why is everything I own rubbish!" Ron snapped as he crossed the room to unstuck Pig's beak.

Harry watched him for a moment, seeing the echo of the arrogant, touchy, arsehole Ron had become and shuddered.