Future Nostalgia / Harry Potter Fanfic

Going Home

Mr. Weasley woke them after only a few hours of sleep. He used magic to pack the tents, and they left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage.

They heard urgent voices as they approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when they reached it, they found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys. Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; they joined the queue and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen. As they rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.

"Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand.

"Arthur-I've been so worried!"

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, Estella saw the headline: Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup, complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr. Weasley and staring around at them with red eyes, "you're alive...Oh, boys-"

And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

"Ouch! Mum-you're strangling us-"

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s!"

When they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Ms. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Odgens Old Firewhisky, Bil handed his father the newspaper.

"Who wrote this? Ah...of course, Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy furiously.

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry suddenly, unable to contain himself, "Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?"

"Hedwig, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. "No, there hasn't been any post at all."

The three looked curiously at Harry. With a meaningful look to the three of them, "All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?"

"Yeah...think I will too," said Ron at once. "Hermione? Stella?"

The four stood up and marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"What's going on, Harry?" asked Ron the moment they had closed the attic door behind them.

"There's something I haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, Ron simply looked dumbstruck, and Estella wondered why he hadn't told her earlier.

"I was dreaming about him...him and Peter, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill...someone." Estella's eyes snapped to Harry's. By someone, of course, they really meant him.

"It was only a dream," said Ron bracingly. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" said Harry, his eyes never leaving Estella's.